Mares und Panzer

by re- Yamsmos


Start A Bang To Beat The Earth!

"Panzerkeil."

"That's a big one out at the front. Dunno about those hips, though."

"That's a III on that left. Looks like the commander's directing."

"Have a subordinate drive the big one. Smart tactic, ya damn birds–"

"Your tongue, Sightseer. You're on camera."

The scene taking place inside of the massive screen shook and jumbled about, blurring and disfiguring the large grassy valley stretching out for miles beyond the too-high cliffside. Swinging first horrendously left, then violently right, and finally panning calmly upward, the screen revealed a golden coated Unicorn, her horn sticking out of her olive green helmet and displacing the navy blue hairs in a kind of Y-shaped parting. Smudged on her face were vigorously rubbed streaks of oil. They did their best to hide the bruises and scratches that came with the sport she was taking part in, but their collaboration was hard to ignore as she grinned widely and showcased her one missing tooth.

"Sorry, everypony!" She called, looking at the ground for a second before simply shrugging. "Get a little caught up out here..."

The camera bounced around once more before settling on a quartet of jacket-wearing mares facing past the edge of the cliff, their backs turned and pairs of binoculars in their dirty hooves. Tails swished idly. They regarded one another with a head nod or a clearing of their throat, more than likely exchanging friendly recommendations, intelligent tactics, and chipper advice.

They stood on an outcropping of dry, sand-colored rock stretching out a good few feet or two over a long dirt trail that came in from way on the left side of the camera and zipped all the way past the far right, disappearing behind the curving mountains they all had trudged through the hour before. The tips of pine trees, a sage shroud concealing anything that might have been creeping along underneath them, took residence along the entire side of the road just inches from its borders, a good place for a sneaky ambush or genius reconnaissance. Situated about fifty feet up from the trail, the cliff gave Ponyville's team a wide visual on the massive, bush-ridden plains sitting far down past them. Like an oblong circle, it was as flat as could be with nary the slightest bit of usable cover in sight.

A perfect trap.

"How're we doin', Lead?" Sightseer shouted from safely behind the shutter.

The one closest to the screen, mane braided and draped over a shoulder, turned at the sound and narrowed her golden eyes.

"Keep it down, or they'll hear us."

"Pumpkin Seed. Ponyville's fearsome leader," came a voice close to her.

That wasn't on the screen. Who was– oh.

She swiveled about in her seat and stared at her left side.

Her mother glared straight ahead, as if the scene that was neatly unfolding electronically before her displeased every little, waking cell in her old, rehearsed body. The brown garrison cap atop her tied-back mane was prim, proper, and expertly furnished. Her sturdy spine was as straight as a bow's fletched arrow, her upright posture fixed and unmoving, and her straight frown set on stubbornly fighting for the rest of its eternal life.

She made no real motion nor stirred up any belief that supported her having just spoken, but, her hard eyes shimmering, she suddenly continued. "Strong, brave, and tact." Her gaze drew to the right and downward. "A true Tank Warrior. A true leader." She looked back up at the screen again. "A fine example of Ponyville's hidden genius, and a fine commander. Just like her mother, isn't that right, Duck Bill?"

Duck felt her nose crinkle in the beginnings of a well-deserved yawn, but clenched her mouth shut just long enough to respond in a normal tone, "Of course, Mother." Expecting some kind of smile or head nod, Duck shimmied her mane and faced the screen again.

"They're moving west," Pumpkin spoke crisply, binoculars in one hoof and the other pointing to her left side like she was signaling on a busy road. Perfectly lined up atop her outstretched foreleg in the distance were five small boxes and five gargantuan clouds of dust following very aptly behind, both traversing across the open plain at a noticeably rushed pace. The birds must have flown the coop. "We need to flank them before they get to the hills."

Duck couldn't really remember where Ponyville's team was at the exact moment, as even their opponents of the hour escaped her mind, but, judging by the fact that she herself hadn't heard mention of any valleys such as the one on the screen, she'd have to guess somewhere just inside the mountains of Griffonia, near the train station. The team had had a bit of trouble upon hitting griffon dirt against a rogue 38(t) light tank, but, being light, it hadn't been able to prolong their echelon for long.

A trio of very light knocks—almost causing Duck to jump before she realized they'd came from the screen — sounded out in rapid succession before a voice, eerily muffled, asked, "Honesty Team, how are we looking on your side?"

Another bout of plastic crashes and thumps.

"They're moving toward us. Doing twenty." It was a long, long while before the voice resumed, this time sounding a tiny bit irritated with the accompaniment of hooves against interior metal. "Should we dig in, Blossom?"

BREEEE!

THUNK!

Sounded like the top hatch of a tank. The radio operator must have been poking her head out to be heard more easily.

"Commander."

Pumpkin about-faced, her poise lady-like but firmly assertive. "Yes, Pear?"

"Should Honesty Team pack up?"

Pumpkin let out a small hum and scowled at the rocks at her hooves. Sightseer, her clothed figure having been just barely out of camera view the entire R&R session, rose from her haunches, stretched her limbs out to elicit sickening pops, and trotted forward to join the observation mares still standing vigilantly on the cliff. There, she snatched a pair of binoculars straight from the first pony's hooves and let loose a cheek-to-cheek grin as a glare was shot her way.

"They should stand their ground," came Duck's mother, catching her attention once more. Her jade irises were reduced to mere slits as she narrowed her eyes and more muttered to herself than spoke to Duck. "The Vickers' 6-ton may be able to keep them at bay until the rest of the team arrives on the far left side. And then, the game will be nothing but a fish-barreled siege."

Duck looked away.

"Tell them to stand their ground. Have them use their 6-ton to take potshots."

Her mother's small grin, both a sight to behold and as rare as a blue moon, could be seen out of the corners of Duck's eyes as she softly beamed, "That's my daughter."

A few light-sounding metal thunks made a small tune, and the radio operator's voice, muffled once more, phoned the other parties. "Honesty Team, this is Loyalty Team. Dig in and keep them where they are. Hit just before their tracks. Try to make them stop."

Pumpkin brought up a hoof and rapped on the rocks, capturing the attention of the cliff-watchers, who followed her lead. "We'll head over there from the left trail and broadside them. Aim for the bases of the turrets and blow them sky-high."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Copy."

"Awww yeah!"

Pumpkin stopped, brandished a tiny, almost absent smirk, and made a circle with her hoof. Duck knew what was coming, and rolled her emerald eyes as Pumpkin expectedly, giddily quipped, "Mount up!"

"Moooount up!"

"Mount up!"

"Mount up."

BREEEE!

THUNK!

Pumpkin faced the camera midstep, paused for a quick few seconds, mhm'd softly, and trotted just before its now refocusing lenses. Standing motionless, and, apparently, scaring a few foals in the audience if their outcry of sudden bawling was any indication, she, at once, raised up her right foreleg in a brisk L shape and gave a crisp, finely rehearsed salute.

At that, the considerably enormous, cringingly deafening, sickeningly echoey, disgustingly putrid, absolutely overenthusiastic stadium went up in cheers, Pegasi, Unicorns, and Earth Ponies alike jumping to their hindlegs, raising up their fores, and shouting at Celestia's sun like they'd hated its current orientation nearing the peak of the sky above. Duck, at once, flattened her ears against her head and double-secured them with both hooves, shutting her eyes and baring her teeth as well once the masses began stomping in a torrent.

The nose-bleed section. Rowdier than the others and high, high up in the Ponyville Stadium for nopony to—more than thankfully—never witness her, tucked behind some rude, round father with a tray of admittedly intoxicating nachos and a jumbo Sippy from the Sippy vendor near the entrance, and his small kid of a filly who wouldn't stop asking questions about what kind of tanks Ponyville were fronting, or how fast they could load another shell to rain fire on their enemies, or what Pumpkin Seed's favorite color was. It wasn't the questions themselves that grated on Duck's brain, and, hay, it wasn't even the filly in the first place, even if her guardian so happened to dismiss both her and her mother when they first sat down.

No, it was the mere notion that all questions about tanks be directed to and answered by her mother, who was more than happy to explain the deep, deep, deeper descriptions of each tank's origins and strengths, the gloves that helped each crew's loader grab onto their "lover's" shells for another powerful reply, and why Pumpkin much preferred yellow to orange, despite being named after something so very strongly the latter.

Ugh. The stadium. Shaped like a crescent moon with countless rows of ascending seating and placed smack-dab in the middle of town, it faced the large—much, much too large—movie screen that broadcasted the year's Tank Warudo matches for everypony to come and see. No matter where Ponyville was fighting, be it the flowery plains outside of Ponyville itself, the arid deserts near Las Pegasus, the hard concrete of Manehattan's garbage-lined streets, or over some lucky old mare's precious tea stand in Canterlot, the ponies back home could all gather into one half-circle and stare at a big, buzzing screen for as short a time as Ponyville stood in the rankings. As such, the viewings tended to last about an hour or so before following some other team that nopony in their right mind would feel satisfied with watching.

Duck didn't really understand that. Manehattan's team was one worth its bits thoroughly analyzing. Not to say she was up for it. It was more for Pumpkin than anything else. She just knew a good team when she saw one.

The noise of the crowd only died down once Pumpkin Seed finished boarding the tank—disappearing from view—presumably doing a 360, and hopping into her commander's cupola. A piercingly violating screeeeeeeech boomed from the screen's colossal speakers before gutterly puttering for five whole seconds, stopping for one, and finally being aggressively replaced by a bestial roaaaaaar that caused a round of clapping and hollers to emanate from the battle-hungry crowd.

BOOM!

Said round of clapping and hollering suddenly halted at once.

The stadium was dead silent.

The screen, however, beeped like her grandfather's flatline, wielding the same, hushed, anxiously anticipatory results.

Once again, out of the corners of her eyes, Duck saw her mother with a blue moon face, with the blue to fit it as well.

This time, her mouth was agape, and her eyes were wide as could possibly be.

Duck pondered the screen.

Upon it, appearing casually and hurriedly, were the words...

TANK DISQUALIFIED.

Duck flexed her chin. Oh boy.

Duck's mother let out a gasp, and, hooves shaking, stuttered, "S-son of a–"

The crowd, as if they'd rehearsed it countless times before—which... honestly... wouldn't surprise her, considering—once more rose to their hindlegs and, with waving, waggling, punching hooves, screamed, shouted, yelled, cursed, swore, bellowed, roared, and howled their complete, irrefutable fury at the screen of their prior enjoyment, which was now displaying rapidly reddening nameplates on its rightmost side.

Underlining the Combat Camera, as it was called, were words much too familiar to Duck.

PONYVILLE HAS BEEN DEFEATED.

A field of bright, light blue—save for one red space—buzzed audibly on the left, to which somepony finally, comprehensibly cried out.

"Those damn, cheating griffons!"

"It's the Shadow Sherman!"

"The Shadow Sherman!"

Shadow Sherman. Pfft. As if the griffons would use something so terribly inferior to their own creations. They'd gotten more and more intelligent these past few years, seeking Equestria out as soon as possible and using tactics not one pony had ever witnessed nor thought of before. Equestria may have been an immensely patriotic, proud country, but there weren't too many positivities to smile at and bring up when staring kooky-eyed at the basic, vanilla M4 Sherman lying smugly in the mud. It was easy to build and not too unreliable, but... well, the griffon tanks were a force to be reckoned with for more than that, and a dozen or so, reasons. That being firepower in the form of larger cannons, armor in the form of stronger, thicker, sloped metal, and reliability in the form of positive kill/break-down ratios. Uuuugh why did she know that?! No, she knew why. Less schoolwork, more Tankery! You can always do your homework later, Duck!

UUUUUUGH!

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

"Aaaah!"

She shot up in pitch blackness, her hard-working heart thumping away deftly at her eardrums and blocking out any sense of awareness she could have been properly employing at the moment. The beep beep beeping suddenly made its position known to her, in the form of the little gray box on her nightstand directly next to her skull. Shaking her head to dispel the rising amount of tiredness threatening to wash over her figure, she turned at the hip, eyed the box, and brought up a hoof.

And promptly shattered it.

Her hoof having gone completely, unnoticeably, through the whole machine, Duck smiled in satisfaction, returned her hoof to her chest, and threw her covers off the rest of her body, where they layered atop one another rather ununiformly, leaned forward a tad, and unraveled to cascade down the foot of her bed in a defeated, fatigue-ridden shoompf.

Duck, blinking the crust from her sights and nipping softly, brought up a hoof and rubbed at her right eye. She swiveled about, letting out a peaceful yawn, and hopped off her bed to head toward the jet black curtains firmly hoof-tacked onto the adjacent popcorn walls. Simply flinging a hoof about and knocking them off their mounts, she smoothly blinked first one eye, then followed it with the other, and parted the dog-patterned sheets.

Her action, immediately regretted and regressing her to a small child capable of only shying away on the verge of tears, brought in an unwelcomed collection of bright, blinding white light that took its sweet time getting adjusted to. Once it finally did, and Duck was able to safely peer into the window, she was presented with a sight to see that everypony in the world was meant to bear witness to, lest they consider themselves having lived in the first place.

Her living space, right at the corner of a three-way intersection of road, greeted her a good morning as a single unit. The gorgeous, countless peaks of the Macintosh Mountains tried their best to save her from her heat-radiating opponent for the too-early day, taking another's place and blocking its rays from view to no real avail. The grassy fields and recently-wooden roofs in her immediate sight stretched for seemingly miles and miles around her, bright red birds with little brown nests atop their oak posts and orange butterflies dancing quietly in the breeze. Ponies traversed the streets, their conversations observingly quiet and calm as they went to and fro in the morning light.

Duck closed the curtains, unimpressed.

Letting her eyelids fall down over her eyes, she felt a few tears coming on and took a second to plop herself onto her rump, bring up her forelegs in a cock-eyed Y shape, and stretch her muscles out to loosen herself up for the morning. Lulling her tongue and blinking away salt, she rolled her shoulders forward, back, and forward again before rising back to a standing position. A whinny escaped her lips as she stood still for a good few seconds, her brain's inner workings getting off their bent-back lawn chairs to start up the old machine again.

Scratching her neck, she collected the mass of her mane in a hoof and threw it over her shoulder, rolling out her tongue in another yawn as she trotted into her bathroom and blew out a long overdue raspberry that created drops on her mirror. She frowned and wiped them off with the nearby towel, then reached for her toothpaste and toothbrush absent-mindedly. Hoof into tap head, brush under water, paste onto brush, brush into mouth.

School, school. That's right. School. School school school.

Ponyville High School, for the first time in her life. The School Of Harmony, as they'd advertised it. A junior, and finally attending public school. The thought gave her a small grin, but switched between that and a slightly smaller frown rapidly. Oh Gods, public school? How different was it all? Was it going to be a big school? Was everything on campus? Were the teachers nice? Were there a lot of them? Would she be made fun of? No, of course not. She was just a regular Pony Joe. Jane. Jane? She was just another cog in the machine... descended from one of the hands of the clock they all collectively powered. Maybe they didn't have to know that. School. School...

The stutter and now pregnant pause in her inner musings directed her to stare up at herself as if she'd had her hoof deep in the cookie jar. Eyes softened, and she droned a low note as they traveled down, down, down her scalp falling all the way on first the left side of her neck and then the right, where her mane sat idly and innocently. She pouted out her lower lip and glared. Gods, if she could just lop the whole thing off. Okay. Maybe not the whole thing. Like, half of it. At least to the point of not getting in her way all the time when she desperately needed all the time. She could nail a short haircut. Oh, definitely. But long hair was traditional in her family, and going without was about as close to treasonous as you could get...

Her frown was booted out of the way in favor of a smirk, which she gave the mare in her mirror all cocky-like.

She was a grown mare now! Well, technically, at least. She could do whatever she wanted! Her graciousness grew wider by the second, bunching up her cheeks. Duck nodded, then promptly slowed her roll as she realized what exactly she was doing. She worked her throat around and cleared it to the best of her ability, which would have had catastrophically foamy results had she not been clamping her mouth shut. Ahem. Right then.

She hummed as she worked, almost choking on her toothpaste. Let's see... first bell at seven-twenty-five, second at seven-thirty. First period EQ History, but they should be signing up for electives in place of class today. What would she take? Duck paused her chore for a second, but shook her head and continued it as quickly as she'd stopped it. No time to waste. First bell at seven-twenty... no, seven-twenty-five. Second at seven-thirty. Yeah. Alarm set for seven, leaving her twenty minutes to get ready.

She minded the small little clock situated in the corner of her bathroom facing the toilet. What did it– oh, all right. Seven-fifteen. Perfect.

Duck scrubbed at one of her troublesome molars that wasn't currently agreeing with her pastime. Over to her... other teeth. She didn't know their names. Dentistry wasn't her strong suit.

...

Duck's eyes became the dinner plates she had been fondly looking at in the store the other day. Very simply, very aptly spewing her toothpaste onto the surface of her mirror, she twirled about to rush out of her bathroom, skidded across the wooden floor, caught herself before she fell face-first onto her last moving-in box, and sprinted toward her closet. All but throwing the whole thing wide open, she let out a little yelp and barely caught herself from falling deep within the dark abyss that was the deep end of the claustrophobic space. Steadying her hooves, she reached up and yanked her school uniform's jacket off its hanger, wrestled it onto her body, and adjusted its white, gold-and-purple-lined collar absent-mindedly.

Her pace in a small gallop, Duck went about her living quarters and accidentally—read, accidentally—crossed the threshold marking her little kitchen.

Breakfast.

Did she have time for breakfast?

Oh Gods she was a bit too close to the edge of nearing tardiness, but she couldn't do her best on her first day without sustenance!

Something quick, then, she thought, her head pounding alongside her heart.

Something quick. Snappy. Swift. Fast.

Ah!

Cereal!

She went to her cupboard and retrieved a plate, placing it onto the countertop.

Her predicament getting the better of her, she craned her neck around and searched for the nightstand next to her bed.

She scrunched up her eyes and mumbled a few unsavory words, scouring the entire piece of furniture from top to bottom.

Where was her alarm clock?!

What time was it?!

She turned to the plate in front of her and shook her head.

Screw it! She'd buy something from the vending machines!

Criss-crossing her four legs around like a world-class Coil champion, she narrowly halted herself from crumpling onto the floor, hopped off the bleach white tiles, grabbed her bag sitting peacefully near the door, and collided head-first with the door she'd prior thought was unlocked. Biting her lip, she slowly collected herself and rose to her hooves, reached for the knob, twisted it, and finally found the welcome mat situated on her step.

"Welcome!" it, as a welcome mat, routinely mimed to her.

"Shut up," she told it in a general mumble.


As it turned out, the welcome mat was a strong believer and righteous supporter for a one-sided conversation, having successfully kept her completely enthralled as her daze took the best out of her. Once she'd remembered where she was, who she was, how many hooves she was holding up, and what she needed to be doing at the moment, Duck had jumped, planted all four onto firm ground, and sprinted down the staircase to head toward the school.

She found herself huffing and puffing her entire way, zig-zagging a few pony couples here and there with a quick, "Sorry!" and a red-cheek-crested simper that only made her inwardly interrogate herself further than before. Her brisk canter evolved into a very astute gallop as the schoolyard appeared on the horizon, its tall flagpoles bearing Equestria's pride and equally imposing white walls marking its large, expansive boundaries. Oh Gods, she hoped she wasn't late. She hadn't been able to look at the time her entire flight to her destination, mind set on mostly her possibly being tardy and minorly on being an impossibly cool filly and barely squeezing into her class on time. Cue cool filly shades, and everypony cheering for her, "Yeah! Go Duck Bill! You're the coolest mare ever!"

This was a bit of an odd motivator. Nevertheless, she found enough of it instilled into her veins to pick up her pace, lower her head, and do a sweet drift around the corner of the first concrete wall bearing the hung-up sign informing her that she had just laid eyes on Ponyville High School, proud home of the Ponyville Horsepowers!

Proud was a word.

It was not one she'd affiliate with the Horsepowers. Maybe in passing, or while gritting her teeth through a conversation with her parents too, but not in her own head.

She halted both her brain and her pumping legs, skittering and kicking up a few clouds of dust in the yard as she did so. If she hadn't been looking where she was blindly running toward, she'd have more than surely bumped noses with what looked to be the popular jocks of the student body. Which would have ended her school day before it had even started. Hay, it would have ruined the whole first week of school before it had started. Using rapid hoof motions and mane-flipping nods, they puffed out their already jersey-boasting chests and pompously belly-chuckled about being something called a Cue Bee for this year's team.

Duck cleared her throat and retraced her steps, noticing the large amounts of ponies occupying the same general space as she. Groups of two, three, four, and even more, young mares and stallions both, crowded the entire front schoolyard, their conversations mixing in with each other and creating a strange kind of alien child that only caused Duck's ears to peel back in pain. Though she'd give a lot to be a part of even two casually talking ponies, the idea of standing out in the hot sun while stranger ponies probably made fun of her from the opposite side of the grass made her begin questioning exactly what she'd give, which, now considering, wouldn't be all too much.

What were they all doing out here, anyway?! It was almost first bell, if her skewed estimations were correct–

B-RIIIIING!

It was first bell! Why wasn't everyone gathered inside, sitting in their chairs, and waiting for the teacher to arrive? Why was everyone still casually talking to one another like it was an hour before school started? If she knew a public school—which she, honestly, didn't really—the halls were like mazes that you couldn't hurry through in the span of a bare minute. These ponies must have been the day-and-night tardies of the school. That was the only reason they'd still be out and about.

Quietly walking past, scarcely through, and mostly around the school factions, Duck ascended the first few steps toward the front door, placed her hoof on its fine, hoof-carved mahogany exterior, stared at its every groove and grain, and exhaled deeply...

...just in time for the door directly next to it to fling open, depositing a little company of what appeared to be overly excited Freshmen with binders and pencils and backpacks in their hooves and on their backs. Oh Gods, she'd forgot to buy som of those. First day of public school and already behind. Teeth grinding against each other, Duck barely heard their rushed apologies before she quickly scooted away from the herds and into the supposed safety of the building proper.

Safety in more than just its walls and...

She looked around and felt a smile tint her lips.

...its relative quiet compared to the outside.

Ponyville High School meant distance from the one thing she knew in her life. For once in her life, she could go a single day without putting down her pencils and paper, rising from her chair, putting on her garrison cap and jacket, and heading outdoors to start up the family tank. For once in her life, she didn't even have to be around tanks! No contact whatsoever! Ponyville High may have housed the town's team, but without actually enrolling in Tankery—which, being independent now, was actually achievable—there was not a single way she'd have to see a tank for the rest of her school career! No more neglected homework, or early morning drills, or Combat Startups, or deafening main cannon fire ringing her skull apart!

As far as she was concerned, her family's Crumphill Valentine was a thing of the past! Let it rot, for all she cared!

Her brightness positively glowed, and Duck lifted her chin as she turned a left corner and proceeded down toward her first class. Immediately, she had to shake her head and blink her eyes a few times, the new hallway stretching before her giving her a hardcore feeling of vertigo that about knocked her to the ground. Feeling a shudder run up, down, and up her spine, she noticed her own hectic breathing and picked up her pace to alleviate it as quickly as possible.

She craned her neck around to try a distraction and grabbed hold of her schedule with her teeth. Placing the blue piece of paper onto one of her hooves as she trotted, she mumbled what she read to herself and looked at each and every sign that met her gaze. Room A13 was to be her first class—with Mister Bon, it apparently seemed to be—which meant that it was first floor, reasonably close by. Duck scanned her immediate surroundings and looked back at her schedule. "Reasonably close" may have been a couple leagues higher than she previously thought.

CRKKT!

Duck directed her attention to the speakers situated in the top corners of each door's little home.

A voice came on, clearly a student's.

"Attention students! Class will begin shortly! Make sure to check in with your first-period teacher before retrieving your elective forms! That is all, thank you! Welcome back, everypony! And if you're new, have a great year!"

CRKKT!

A middle-aged mare—if her slight wrinkles were telling—with glasses propped atop her nose approached her from her left side. Duck had noticed the figure earlier, but hadn't made the connection between convenient lamp and living Equestrian. With a big grin on her face and her mane short and frizzy, the mare chipped cheerily, "Duck Bill! Oh, we're so happy to finally have youuuu!"

She knew her name?

"Uhh... thank you, ma'am," Duck replied, trying her hardest to avoid eye contact. She minded her schedule. "Do you know where... Room A13 is?"

The staff member, she assumed, nodded vigorously, "Of course I do! They didn't make me work at the front desk for nothing, hahaha!"

Duck pretended to join along in the supposed joke, working her jaw around to dislodge the expert lock it was trying to create.

A hoof went up and pointed further down the hallway. Duck groaned.

"Just down the hall!" Repeat, just. "Take a right, and then a left! Mister Bon should already be in there."

"Thank you," Duck murmured, prompting the office worker to turn around and trot back into her room where she belonged. Duck, sniffing in air and blowing it out her mouth, placed her schedule back into her messenger bag, adjusted its position across her shoulder, and headed toward the end of the hallway. As she went, ponies fled open classrooms with laughs in their bellies; teachers stood before their respective doors, fiddling with keys before finally flinging the darned thing open. A few wandering staff members looked her way and, after a friendly hello, waved at her and carried on with what they were doing.

Had they known she was coming, or something? Sure, she may have had a parent and a sister enrolled in the Tankery class before her, but both of them were more well known than she was. Even after her little escapade outside of town, it wasn't like the name "Duck Bill" was something worth discussing on the topic of Tank Warudo. She was just the daughter. She didn't vocally enjoy the sport, nor did she even acknowledge it outside of her private schooling. Why did they welcome her with such cheery embrace? Did they expect something of her?

A gathering of loud noises finally met her ears, and she pressed them against the sides of her head and gently approached them. Her frown, having only a second ago crossed her face, deepened once she realized the sounds were emanating from the right side of the hallway's end ahead of her, lying exactly where she needed to be going. Whinnying, Duck braced herself for audible impact and met the corner of the corridor cautiously. Peering around it, she found a long, long line of ponies standing in front of a half-door kiosk labeled Student Services.

She oh'd.

"Oh."

That was the line where you went and received this year's elective form, to fill out whatever classes you wanted to take for the semester and next, if it applied. She was supposed to be in that line, now that she thought about it, but only after she reached her classroom and got marked as present for first period. Gods... how did they expect everypony to get their forms before second period started? The line looked like it was reaching the end of this hallway, which, might she add, looked to be even longer than the one she'd just been in!

A voice, entirely separate from the others' due to its volume, roused her from her thoughts.

"Music, he said!"

Duck narrowed her eyes and walked on.

"Music?! Are you kidding me?!"

The culprits made themselves out to her as the crowd parted. The other students in the line must have been smart enough to not get close to an argument the first day of school. A dark gray, light yellow-maned Unicorn was standing over a slightly shorter, light blue Earth Pony with an equally short smokey mane, cackling to himself and causing his presumed compatriot, another Unicorn, to chortle next to him. The Earth Pony, though much less well-equipped for such an encounter, narrowed his eyes and glared up at the two easily recognizable bullies.

"Black notes on white paper. Too hard for you to read?"

The first Unicorn opened his mouth and looked surprised. "Haw! You implying I can't read?"

"Was that what you were implying, little guy?" The other joined in.

Duck felt her brow furrow, but she couldn't deal with this at the moment. She took a few more steps forward, having just noticed she'd stopped, and planned how best she'd squeeze through the crowd to reach her first class.

The Earth Pony cleared his throat. "I'm just saying that maybe you'd be able to see yourself right now and have some kind of stunning revelation."

The pair broke into fits. "What in the hell are you saying, Arco? Big words don't make your insults any... insult-i-er."

The apparent Arco, though Duck knew was himself noticing his own tongue, stood his ground.

"You should just take Photography," one said, prodding him with a hoof and pushing his bag's straps into his gut. "At least there you'd fit in with the stupid hipsters."

"Could make a nice headline with your mug plastered on the front page..." Arco muttered enough for Duck, farther, to hear, and not enough for the bullies, much closer, to not. Which caused a pause in her step. She resumed without a word, but kept her ears propped up for further words.

"What would we call it?" Another, more feminine voice, piped up. Duck turned around to look for the source, and found a light pink Unicorn stepping through the crowd to join Arco's side.

Arco, not expecting a stranger to do such a thing, was caught off-guard, but brandished a grin and replied, "'Local Unicorn Confuses Scientists With Almost Unnoticeable Brain Damage.'"

The bullies growled.

Duck raised a brow. Was that a burn?

"Flurry Heart," one of them hissed, like they'd just read the name on a plaque.

Flurry Heart bounced her mane with a hoof and hummed. "Mocha Frappe."

"Go away, teacher's pet. Surprised you even remembered where the school was..."

It was at this point that Duck realized that the only way past the crowd without talking to anypony was through... the bullies, as they and Arco and Flurry's little scene was creating quite the sizable gap in the line. She didn't want to risk someone making fun of her later for her quivering voice, but she obviously didn't want to simply try and walk through a conniption like this. What was she gonna do?

Flurry put a foreleg around Arco's neck. He flinched and stared at her wide-eyed.

"My friend here isn't too all right with your guys' attitudes, and, frankly," she began, pointing a hoof at herself, "neither am I. You mind just moving along for Gods' sake?"

Arco regarded her, "I literally don't know you."

Flurry shot him a glare.

"Don't care what you think, shrimps. You bumped me and almost cost me my elective, loser," Mocha spat, stepping toward Arco. "That sounds a lot like a nice punch across the face to me."

Oh Gods, please. Get over yourself.

Duck steadied her breathing and began to near their location.

"Could you please get over yourself, Mocha?" Flurry asked. Thank you!

"How about you be quiet, little miss perfect. You're only in this school because your mom's a princess."

Wait, what?

At that, Flurry broke Kayfabe and scowled. "That has hardly anything to do with it."

"That's why you still have good grades despite being lazy all the time."

"I know my stuff."

"Your mom's just paying off the school, aren't they?"

Duck scrunched up her nose. This was becoming a bit too far of a stand-off.

The other Unicorn, his presence not well utilized—being the sidekick—looked around and spotted Duck in a flash. He lit up in a second and pointed her way.

"Hey, you!"

The entire crowd, as well as Arco, Flurry, and Mocha, looked at her in kind.

Duck's head went through a shockwave, almost spilling her to the ground in a cold heap.

"Well if it isn't Pumpkin Seed's little sister..." Mocha began, turning away from his argument to amble toward her. "What do you think you're gonna be doing this year? You're not gonna screw us up like she did, are you?"

Duck's words barely came to her consciously. "I... I... uh..."

"Or should I say, 'like your mom did', instead? A family of screw-ups! And another here to follow in their hoofsteps."

Duck's gaze drew to the left. Even the staff member managing the kiosk had stopped, apparently much too old to hold any measurable authority that could send the two stallions off.

She looked for something to say back. A general reply, or an insult, or a farewell so she could just be rid of the whole thing forever. What was he talking about? Her sister and mother both? What did he mean? Screw-ups? She knew the team was poor but... no. Were they both at fault? How? That couldn't be true, could it? Her face felt lighter and hotter; her forehead began to cling to her gamboge bangs. Each breath she sent out came to her shaky and underwhelming. Oh Gods what was happening oh Gods no no no.

"Hey, back off, boneheads! Leave her alone!" Flurry yelled, taking a step out from next to Arco.

Duck, head swimming, looked Flurry's way. Arco joined her side, raising up a hoof and placing it against his cheek.

"Leave her alone!"

Mocha guffawed, bending his neck back and letting it out to permeate the air around Duck. "Leave her alone, huh?" He asked, almost touching noses with her. "I'll leave her alone, all right."

He brought up his hooves and lightly shoved her backward.

She caught herself and bent her wobby legs.

"Hey!"

Duck stared up into Mocha's eyes as he took another step forward.

He shoved her again.

Duck's heart sounded like it was ready to pounce from her chest.

The students in the background, the walls and ceiling and light fixtures—even the floor—became an unimaginable blur to her.

She was being trapped. Encircled. Cornered. She had an opponent, and he was successfully keeping her from defending herself and stepping away. She felt a wall bump against her back, only increasing her mind's manic, runaway train of thought.

"You're nothing but an idiot, Pumpkinhead," Mocha told her, staring her down. "Go on back home where you belong. You'll only ruin the school if you stay here."

Duck looked up.

Her eyes were having a hard time pinpointing exactly where Mocha's face lay in its kaleidoscope-like positioning.

But she felt one of her hooves rise up and strike as true as an AP shell.

Mocha's face whipped to her left, and the stallion was sent to the floor.

Duck clapped a hoof over her mouth and gasped behind it, staring down at the stallion's injured figure.

A flurry of clips and clops met her ears, and she barely managed to duck in time as Mocha's partner tripped over Mocha's body and banged his head on the wall Duck has previously pressed against. She scurried away from the sight, discarding her messenger bag by accident and spilling her graph papers and pens to the floor. They crumpled under the weight of each other and rolled around on the waxed floor.

Oh Gods what had she just done?! She didn't know how to fight! What in the hay was she doing?!

Mocha and his partner rose to their hooves and growled like feral dogs.

The former charged in an instant, causing Duck to clam up and almost cease moving out of fear. Quickly, she reached for her now empty bag and attempted to make a shield for herself, but instead watched as Mocha misplaced her pens, found them underneath his hooves, and spun onto the ground again. The other, trying to save face for his leader's failure, lowered his head—presumably to scan the floor as he sprinted—and charged her as well. Duck, her basic motor functions churning up, side-stepped her out of harm's way and twisted her about to witness her new opponent screeching to a halt a yard away.

Her brain thought up a quick solution, and she dove to her stomach to grab as much of her bag's original contents as she could. Shoving papers, books, and now open pens past its flap, she closed the accessory and saw another charge taking form. Grabbing hold of her shoulder strap and thunking the bag itself onto the ground with an audible thump, she waited patiently for an opportunity to arise.

It came quickly.

As the Unicorn neared her position, Duck gritted her teeth, clenched the strap, and flung it with all her might.

What she had intended to be a thrown strike instead ended up being the opposite of it. She had to jump out of the way as the stallion, having been bent completely around from the weight against his head, skidded over where she'd prior stood.

As the sounds of groans met her ears, Duck's breathing rushed back to her like a wave, and she looked at both Unicorns with sweat pouring down her face.

She looked at the line of ponies.

Flurry Heart was wide-eyed, mouth set in a nope frown.

Arco looked to be in the middle of a gasp, but his lips were upturned like he was smiling at the same time.

Someone in the line coughed.

Another piped up.

"Sweet dodge."