//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: Safety Off // by Daemon McRae //------------------------------// Chapter 5 “Hey Powder?” “Hm?” “Why do they call it Las Pegasus?” Powder, a pegasus himself folded down the newspaper he was reading. The train they were on clack-clack-clacked in the background. “What?” “Like, I get the pegasus part. But what the fuck is Las?” Jobs stressed the word in confusion, looking up from his own paper. Specifically the comics section. “It’s like… a foreign language or something, I dunno. Maybe the town was founded by foreigners?” Powder shrugged, returning his attention to the newspaper. “But it was founded by ponies. I think? I mean, have you ever met a pony who spoke a different language? What… what other languages are there?” With a sigh, Powder set aside his paper entirely. It was going to be one of those conversations. “Are you dumb? There’s like, a bunch.” “Well, what are they?” Job insisted, putting his own paper down. “Well, there’s Fancee,” Powder pointed out. “Is that the one that makes you sound like some kinda hipster douchebag?” “...kinda yes? I mean it’s supposed to be the language of love or something.” “But… we have a Princess of Love! You know what language she speaks? This one!” Job whined, throwing his hooves in the air. “Well, yeah, but Fancee is supposed to sound like, romantic or something. I dunno.” “Is Las Fancee for somethin’?” Powder shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s like… that ‘Taco Taco Burrito-sama’ language or something.” “I feel like you just offended thousands of ponies across the land and they don’t even know why.” “...Job, we regularly appropriate other people’s belongings for a living. I’m pretty sure they’re already offended by what we do.” The unicorn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “True. Still doesn’t answer my question.” “What the fuck does Las mean?” “Yeah.” “No fuckin idea,” the pegasus answered, and went back to his paper. “You’re kind of awful, you know.” ----------------------- “Ok, Powder, I’ve figured it out.” “What?” “What Las means.” Powder put down his paper. It was maybe an hour later. “Oh this should be good. What does Las mean?” “It means ‘lost’. Like, some pegasus a bajillion years ago got ‘lost’, and decided to just built a town where he was, and then named it after himself. The Lost Pegasus. Ooh, ooh! Or there was a bar called the Lost Pegasus in the town before it became Las Pegasus, and everypony thought the old name sucked or whatever, and named it after the bar! Ooh, or-” “Sweet Baby Celestia impale me upon your tiny horn that I might bleed out and die.” “-or some pegasus got lost -no wait here me out- and then a bunch of other ponies went looking for him or her or whatever and couldn’t find him and they set up the town or something!” The pegasus looked across the table at his unicorn ‘friend.’ “Are you done?” “...maybe.” “Good, we’re here.”