CharmingRhythm and SlateMeasure make their way through the streets of Los Pegasus, the headquarters building in clear view to the south. They pass many tight houses, apartments and shops. Several guards are making their patrol around the streets of the inner city while young recruits are on their way to report their missions.
“Well, this should be interesting,” Rhythm says. “Us on a mission together. Reminds me of when you’d train me as a teen.”
“And look at you now,” Slate notes with a proud smile, “You’ve got your own camp and head your own missions.”
“Yeah well, I still like going on these kinds of missions every now and then,” replies Rhythm. “Anyway, I kinda miss going on adventures with you.”
“Hmm, well, it’s been a long while since I’ve been on a mission like this. Not sure if I’m really cut out for it,” Slate admits.
“Then why the hell were you so insistent on going alone?” Rhythm blurts out.
His father turns his gaze to him with a single eye squinting.
“What? It’s a serious question,” Rhythm tells.
Slate doesn’t reply to that. Instead there is a brief pause.
“So, where are we headed?” Rhythm asks the older Unicorn.
“North Gallopdale, but we may need to catch a cab to get there faster. Can’t see myself walking that far,” Slate reports.
“And it would just take too long,” Rhythm agrees. “But, we’d need money for a cab and… I don’t have any.” He puts his muzzle down in disappointment.
“Out of all the things you packed, you forgot money?” Slate quips.
“Yeah…” Rhythm says with a smile that’s closer to a grimace.
"Well lucky for us, I brought some," Slate mocks playfully.
They start walking in the direction of the headquarters building. A tall, off-white building, a signal for ponies looking for safety. Around it is a community of close houses and shops. Its neighborhood guaranteed to be safe from Hybrids or bandits. This was one of the few beacons of hope in the wastelands of Equestria, all thanks to the unity of the Resistance.
Slate halts his pace and Rhythm follows his gesture. They notice a stop for a cab and both wait until one arrives. It is quiet, with a few shouts in the distance, and a soft hum of electricity emitted from lamps and wires.
“What exactly do we need from Gallopdale?” Rhythm questions Slate.
“I guess you should know if you’re on this mission now,” Slate mutters, in a somewhat disappointed tone. “Something was stolen from the Resistance headquarters. They were able to trace it back to some rogues that are located in Gallopdale. They needed someone to retrieve the item.”
“Woah, woah. We’re going against rogues?” Rhythm bellows. “Do you know how dangerous they could be? I’d rather go against Hybrids than rogues. And we basically have to steal something back from them? Dad!”
“Hey, calm down. We are going to try our best not to fight them. I believe we can negotiate. Besides, these rogues can’t be as bad as the ones outside the city. They’re still technically in Los Pegasus,” Slate replies.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Rhythm grumbles.
“It means they may side more towards the Resistance than other rogues. They are in a Resistance city afterall.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rhythm says as a cab pulls into the stop.
They enter the small, crystal powered car. Its windows are exposed, and only half a door keeps any passengers from slipping out. The driver, a pink Earth Pony, looks over her shoulder. “Where to?” She requests.
“North Gallopdale, Maple Street,” Slate announces.
The car starts with a slightly bumpy path. Rhythm and Slate are silent for another moment, only the quiet clunk-clunk of the cab is heard.
Rhythm looks to Slate and asks, “So, what exactly are we looking for?”
“That’s not something I can disclose right now,” Slate retorts, his brown eyes glaring at the driver.
While arriving at their destination, Slate pays the driver. After she leaves, the pair start walking several blocks west. Flickering lamps still shine down on the streets. Rhythm’s vision turns to the left, observing the skyline of Los Pegasus, its buildings highlighted by the orange morning sky. There is no sun to see and the shadows are faint. Everything is at an odd silence, for the neighborhood is predominantly abandoned.
A purple hoof is held out to halt Rhythm. Slate pivots it towards an old, fenced scrapyard. There is a gold Earth Pony guarding the outside. They carefully gait towards the scrapyard. The colt notices them, and quickly jolts up.
“Stop! Nobody gets in Gear’s refuge.”
“Well, we will,” Rhythm says dryly. Slate gently jabs him.
“We are looking to speak to the ponies inside. We want to negotiate,” Slate addresses.
“Negotiate what?” The small pony sneers, cocking his head
“There is something you may have that we need. Perhaps there is something we can trade for it,” Slate carefully explains.
Silent for a moment, the gold Earth Pony thinks of something to say, but a voice from behind the gate speaks up for him. “Let them in.”
The gate opens with a creak, and the colt leads the two Unicorns into the scrapyard. When inside, several pairs of eyes follow them. All of the rogues scowl at the Resistance recruits. Suspicious of the outsiders, one of them grasps their gun.
“Gear!” the gold Earth Pony shouts.
“What a convenient name to be in a scrapyard,” Rhythm mutters, but only loud enough for Slate to hear. He glares at Rhythm, unamused.
An olive green Pegasus steps out of a makeshift shack. His piercing yellow eyes search and lock onto the two Unicorn in front of him.
“What are you doing here in my territory?” Gear queries in a rough voice.
Slate starts, “We believe you have something of ours that we need back. Perhaps we can offer something in return.”
“What exactly would that be?” Gear rolls his eyes. “We’ve taken many things from you… idiots.” He seemed to be referring to the Resistance as a whole.
Rhythm’s muzzle wrinkles, but Slate speaks before he can say anything. “It’s a… poster tube. It looks like a scroll. It has yellow caps.”
A red Unicorn is rummaging through a crate, and Gear turns to her to watch. She telekinetically pulls an object out, matching Slate’s description perfectly. “This?” She spits.
“Yes,” Slate lets out, desperation in his voice and his eyes wide.
“Hmm, not sure if we can give it to you,” Gear taunts.
“Why not?” Slate snaps.
“Well, I can’t just give you what you want just like that,” Gear laughs. “Besides, you said you could offer something in return. Tell you what, if you can pick something of mine up, you can have this.”
“Okay?” Slate listens.
“It’s a small chest, with a golden rose embroidery. I left it behind in my old house near Griffon Park. But the area was taken over by Hybrids. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me. You do fight Hybrids, don’t you?” Gear clarifies with a crooked smirk.
“Dad, I don’t know about this,” Rhythm mutters.
Slate contemplates for a few moments, and finally decides, “Alright. We’ll do it. As long as you promise to give me the poster tube. Just give me the address.”
“You got yourself a deal. River!” Gear calls. “Get some paper.”
The rust colored Unicorn called River searches for some paper. When he does, Gear tells him the address to write down.
“What are you doing?” Rhythm demands. “This is dangerous.”
“Griffon Park is always guarded by sentries. It might not be as bad as you think,” Slate replies.