//------------------------------// // Silverstream // Story: The Reservation // by Kyuubi325 //------------------------------// United States Lincoln Citadel Roanoke Estates 5:30 am A pink talon felt around a nearby nightstand in a desperate attempt to shut off the beeping. Once it was shut off, a solitary lump in the center of the bed started to move the covers off, revealing a shaved blue Mohawk-looking mane. Silverstream yawned, rubbing her eyes before glancing at a framed photo near her clock. A faint smile forming on her beak, seeing Gallus in his dress uniform next to her in her white wedding gown. He always tried to look so severe and inflexible… it certainly hadn't changed when he joined the military. But if one likes closer, they could see he was ready to cry. Yawning again, she struggled out of bed, rubbing her talons through her messy head feathers before peaking over into the nearby crib and grasping its occupant. Or rather occupants, she hummed, reaching down and lifting the large egg. "Morning, little ones…." Pressing her cheek against the shell, listening to the two distinct heartbeats followed by two gentle kicks. Giggling, she placed the egg back into the crib, heading to the bathroom to begin her morning rituals. The faint sounds of the pouring water could be heard from the shoilet. After a few moments, she existed the small room-shaking herself off under a towel fluffing up a bit before heading to a nearby closet opening it to reveal dark green coveralls with a yellow safety helmet. Pulling it down, she stared at the Crosspoint detail on the back, a faint smirk forming on her beak before slipping into the uniform. Working her wings through the holes in the back before zipping it up. Once it was on, she slammed the helmet onto her head with the matching glasses. Glancing into the nearby mirror, she playfully stuck out her tongue at the somewhat silly-looking get-up; turning her attention to the clock, she sighed, heading back to the crib. Slipping her precious cargo into an egg cozy, she cradled it close to her bosom as she made her way through the trailer. Glancing at the kitchen area, she briefly debated grabbing the leftover Chinese before seeing the time. "Well… I guess it's break room bagels again…." Heading out the door, she awkwardly locked it before heading to the waiting Duzgo. Leaning over the passenger door, she set the egg into the baby seat, strapping it down tight. Once she was sure it was safe, she made her way to the opposite side; pulling down the visor, the keys fell down right into her talons. With a flick of the wrist, she started the engine and made her way out of the trailer park. Briefly glancing at her neighbors as she followed the twisting road, seeing many were just getting ready to leave for work. She was already debating what to bring to the next pool party as she passed the communal pools and bbq pits. Imaging everything from the dreaded macaroni salad to bbq fish tacos. Suppressing the urge to drool as she pulled the car out onto the main drag. The drive to her job wasn't exciting, just the odd fast food place, diners, and gas stations lined the road. Turning off, she quickly parked before The Shepard's Daycare Center. The building wasn't terribly flashy, a relatively simple wooden façade that made it seem more vintage than it was. With a gentle wood burn sign above it all, complete with a kindly-looking dragon Shepard next to it. Grasping her egg from the passenger seat, she quickly made her way inside. Fizzle was already waiting behind the desk, sipping his morning coffee catching a glimpse of the hippogriff; his eyes seemed to brighten. "Silver! Good morning." He hummed gently while adjusting his Shepard-like uniform. "Morning, Fizz." She hummed, heaving her egg onto the desk. "Just here to drop off." A friendly smile covering her face. "Ah, the twins!" He chuckled, passing the paperwork over to her. "Have you decided on names yet? I feel so awkward not having anything else to call them." The dragon rubbed the back of his head. "No… I'm waiting for Gallus to get back on leave…." She shook her head. "Ah… I'm sorry, Silver… I know the laying wasn't easy without him…." He shook his head sadly, taking the egg carefully in his arms. "It's alright; once he finishes his patrol, we'll have a whole month together." She said, trying to sound a bit more chipper. "Heh… I hope he'll be at the BBQ this summer; he knows how to make some great punch." He winked. "Some pickup time as usual?" "Naturally, thank you, Fizzle." She nodded her head, leaving just before the rush of over young parents came in. After she pulled off the main road, the remaining drive was relatively short, heading out to a rather sparse forest. But as she drove, the trees eventually gave way to a large compound surrounded by high razor-wire fences. Stopped by her car at the gate, a bored-looking feline in a heavy ballistic vest leaned over. "Ah, morning Miss Silver…." He said after taking her ID badge, looking it over closely out of formality. "Morning Juro, hope the summer heat isn't getting to you." Silver leaned out of her car, looking concerned. "Eh… it's not too bad in the mornings… it's midday when it gets awful. Any word on when they can get an AC unit for the guard post?" He asked only half-jokingly. "Well, if we get the Taiwan contract, I think I can convince the boss to spring for one." She hummed, taking her ID badge back. "I hope so… rumor is this summer is gonna be the worst…." He mumbled, pressing the button, lowering the metal barricade. Once it was out of the way, she drove into the large parking lot, pulling right up the personal parking space near the entrance to the large factory. Slipping out of the car, she quickly walked inside, barely paying attention as she moved through a second checkpoint. Making her way through the metal detectors, she pushed her way through the massive heavy metal double doors… and was greeted by a symphony of industry. Countless machines worked around her; some turned brass cups into cases, others pressed out lead bullets, even primers we steadily spit out of others, before being fed into yet another, then put all together with a bit of powder to make the final product. Be it .223 or something as significant as .50 cal. The whole operation spanned at least a few blocks, and it was only the tiny arms portion of the facility! Even the employees seemed to be mechanized to a degree; a lanky centaur passed by her without a word pushing a flatbed loaded down with crates of small munitions. At the far end of the vast building, a row of various tactilely gifted species and the odd human picked out defective rounds from a conveyor belt, tossing them to a bin. Those were just the most obvious, so many others simply blended into the background monitoring the occasionally dodgy Chinese machines for any issues. Before she could take a moment to close her eyes and appreciate the variable symphony of work around her, a chubby zebra approached. "Oh! Miss Silverstream!" Sighing, she quickly put on her professional demeanor. "Hello, Abiola. Are we on track for the South Korean NPA contract?" The young Zebra glanced over a clipboard flipping through the pages. "The 9mm hollow point and 12 gauge rounds are within expectations… but we've run into an issue with the 5.8x42mm." He swallowed nervously. "What's the issue? Those bullets make up nearly 35% of the contract; if we don't deliver, it could cost us the golden goose that's coming up." She tried to hide her concern, but old habits died hard. She was always expressive, after all. "If we can't ship, we lose those bonuses." "It's quality control, ma'am; we're tossing nearly 25% of the rounds out because of defects!" The Zebra retreated a bit, feeling like he was being blamed. "…Machine 6 was always a lemon… what are the options?" She mumbled, rubbing her beak in thought, a deep frown growing. "The deadline was already tight… with the delays, I'm unsure we're going to make it. Maybe if we serviced number 6… but honestly, we'd likely have to break it down to the nuts and bolts… that could take weeks…." The Zebra flipped swallowed, knowing it wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Is there any other way we could fix the issue? We don't have weeks to rebuild it!" She shook her head. The Zebra's eyes darted side to side, attempting to come up with a solution. "I-I'll ask the engineers… maybe they can come up with something?…." "Yes… just… go see…." She shook her head again. The Zebra quickly rushed off, leaving the hippogriff in thought, sighing; she began to make her way to her office on the far end of the facility. Just as she started to fish out her keys, a tired-looking Arabian Stallion approached her from behind. "We have a situation, ma'am…." "Yes, I know we're struggling to make the deadline for the NPA…." She shook her head, glancing at his nametag, seeing he was head of sales. "Actually… it's about General Munitions…." His eyes shifted side to side as if worried someone else would overhear. "Get in my office…." She shoved the door open and quickly sat at her desk, motioning for him to sit down. The brown-coated stallion inhaled deeply, calming himself, putting on what could only be described as his game face. "What's this about our largest customers in Civilian Arms?…." She clasped her talons together after collecting herself. "They want to renegotiate their supply contract… they are complaining that the price we charge is above MSRP…." He stared into her eyes. "I told them they were paying for quality, but it's obviously wasn't enough…." "They help even out our income… if we lose them, it will hurt our bottom line…." Silver exhaled. "Well, I have some good news… they are willing to talk in person… Mel Bernstein, while unavailable, has given Spot authority to handle the matter…." The Arabian responded. "When's the earliest we could meet?" Silverstream got right to the point. "Lunchtime?… he's already made reservations at the Slaughterhouse Steakhouse…." "That's awfully presumptuous…." Silver shook her head. "Excuse my colorful language, but he knows he has us by the balls. General Munitions serves customers all over Lincoln, and much the American Westcoast, their more recent expansions into middle America only make them more valuable. If we lose them, someone else will take our place in a stamp." The brown-coated Arabian slammed his hoof down and shook his head. "Americans are using and stockpiling more than they ever did pre-convergence, just their sales of Surplus MREs is staggering!" "Is there anything else I should know?…" She glanced at the Calendar on her desktop, seeing she lacked meetings. Part of her prayed a faint thank you for small miracles. "Spot might be hot-headed… but he's dedicated to his job. Don't underestimate him; he's a lot smarter than he looks; he convinced the infamous White Tail militia to sell their famous Krupp Mountain Gun as a museum piece at a loss! Most people visit their shop just to get a photo op with the gun that helped terrorize General Stonehock in the Rocky Mountains Campaign. That thing brings in several thousand a week just sitting in front of a green screen!" Mumbled as he shook his head. "He also helped secure a lot of supply contracts with militia and National Guard groups from here to Montana!" "Is there anything else I should know?…" Silverstream was struggling to suppress her growing anxiety over the situation. "Well… he likes Jack Daniels?…." ———————————————————————- United States Lincoln Madison Fields Riverside Bachelor Flats 5:30 am An alarm blared on a small nightstand centered between three beds arranged around it. After scarcely moments thought, three paws slammed down on the annoying device at once. Three sets of yellowed eyes then opened and stared at one another, seemingly waiting for something. "… me first!" Rover burst from the covers, scrambling to the nearby bathroom only for his leg to be grabbed by his younger brother Fido. "Nuh-uh! Me first!" The much larger dog dragged the lanky mutt backward while practically running over him. Just as he cleared Rover, a much smaller mutt dashed between his legs, tripping him over. "Nice try! Me first!" Spot yelled only for his tail to be grasped. "I'm the oldest! I should get to go first in the mornings!" Rover growled, trying to stop the smaller dog from reaching the bathroom. "I'm the biggest!" Fido yelled as he tried to clear both of them, running over Rovers head, causing him to lose his grip. At that point, Spot practically shot off like a rocket, zooming through his younger brother's legs and right into the bathroom. Making sure to slam the door right behind him just in time to meet Fido's muzzle. The two other dogs groaned in annoyance, knowing that once again, they would have to deal with lukewarm showers. While Spot didn't take long, but the small water heater wasn't meant for three thickly furred individuals. They were still on a waitlist for an upgrade; even with the studio apartment, they were used to close quarters. Spot would eventually walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, looking rather smug while his two brothers began to fight over who was next. The smaller dog headed back over to his bed, grasping a drawer below the mattress, and began to pull out his work clothes. Starting with a short sleeve collared white shirt, black pants, followed by a woolen vest. Glancing at the mirror near the door, he grasped a comb and began to comb the fur around his muzzle. Tilting his head side to side, he would eventually sigh, taking a bottle of mouthwash, swishing the burning substance in his maw before spitting it carelessly into the kitchen nook sink. Just as he was about to walk out, he spotted Rover working into his fry cook outfit while Fido worked himself into his overalls and miners helmet. Before turning to leave, the walk down the hallway and stairs was rather dull, a faint smile on his muzzle. The brown hallways lacked many decors; once he was outside, things were far more interesting; he made his way to a small line of garages opposite the building. Pulling out his keys, he shoved them into the lock before lifting up the door, revealing what appeared to be a military green 1970s Minsk 125cc; sadly, despite the appearance, it was only a Chinese Knockoff he bought at auction. Climbing up and slamming his surplus helmet on, he pulled out the kickstart and began kicking; it took a few tries to get the engine rumbling. Letting the engine rev for a few minutes be pulled out of the garage, turning out onto the road. He couldn't help but stick out his tongue a bit, enjoying the feel of the wind against his face. Once he had reached the country road, he began to open up the engine. Watching the after-market speedometer slowly tick upwards to 50mph. Sadly this only brought his ride to a swifter end, as he could already see the vast warehouse-like building in the distance. Pulling into the sprawling parking lot, he pulled around the back of the building. He made sure to chain his bike up to a nearby rack, eventually fishing out his keys and opening the backroom door. Opening it, he came to a second heavy metal gate for which he had to work through his key ring, opening the second door after letting the other close behind him. Once he was through the final door, he was greeted by the vast warehouse, crates upon crates filled with countless calibers, with others locked in cages filled with various firearms from Ruger to surplus weapons bought at Chinese auctions. Every now and then, he'd like to imagine how different things would have been if all Canids always had such weapons. Shaking the dream away, he made his way over to a circuit breaker and began to switch on the power. Bright lights two stories above him switched on, bathing the sprawling shelves in an off-white glow. Closing the panel, he made his way deeper into the warehouse, heading to the workshop, wanting to see if the latest imports were ready for the showroom floor. Peaking through the reinforced windows, he saw a line of partially disassembled Type 67's on one of the tables. Snorting, he pulled out his phone and dialed the machinist. "Come on, come on…." He mumbled under his breath, waiting for an answer. "Hello?…" A tired voice echoed through the speaker. "Mind telling me why I see 20 plus guns on the table still in pieces?" Spot rubbed his eyes, sighing. "They were missing several components… I needed the approval to start machining them." The guy on the other end responded tiredly. "What?… we paid for complete guns!" Stop growled angrily. "Welp, half of the trigger mechanisms are missing… I can machine the missing parts easily enough, but I'm gonna need approval and the funds to do it." The man responded. "How did this happen?…." Spot leaned against the wall muttering. "My guess is that the pictures of the completed rifles were the sum total of the actual complete rifles in the cases… We might have been able to catch it earlier if we did the auction in person… the good news is that the bulk purchase of Type 56s was complete." Spot nodded his head slowly; those were much easier to move. "Alright… I guess we can be thankful so small miracles…. How much will it cost to machine the missing parts?" "I'd say… maybe a week or two… they aren't too complicated, it's really a matter of how close to the original you want them to be… flawless matches would take longer then… say using what I already have around the shop…" he seemed to take a moment to respond. "What about if we split the difference? Made them look like original parts at first or second glance?" "I'd say…. 30-50 bucks each?" He responded. Spot crunched the numbers in his head. "I think we can live with that…." "Alright… I'll get to work on machining today…." The man yawned again. "See you do…." Spot quickly hangs up, making his way towards the showroom. Opening the door, he was greeted by a sight that seemed like a combination of Mad Max's Alamo, with a hint of an Arms bazaar. Making his way past the counter and the numerous racks of rifles and cases of handguns. Walking around the large room, he would occasionally stop and straighten a stack of MREs or polishing a meter on a radio. He even took a moment to inspect the small cannon that sat in the center of it all, gazing over the photographs of its past owners in combat. Making his way to the entrance, he stopped to rest his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath as he looked over it all. Once he soaked it all in, he unlocked the door making his way to the counter, glancing at his phone to see a message. Once he sat down on the stool, he opened it, a big smirk formed on his face. ——————————————————————— United States Lincoln Madison Valley Slaughterhouse Steakhouse 12:17 pm Silverstream fidgeted in her rented suit, not entirely comfortable in the stifling outfit. But tried to keep her look of professionalism while clutching a gift basket of Jack Daniels as she made her way inside. The Steakhouse inside was filled with mouthwatering smells and had a ranch esthetic that fit in well. There was just one thing out of place with the scenery… numerous humans and other species in suits sitting at the various tables talking business. Futures were in the area were made and lost in this restaurant over steak and baskets of bread. Before she could say a word, the hostess beat her the punch. "Ah, I believe your Spots plus one?" She young woman asked cheerily. "… Yes, actually…" Silver smiled to try to hide her surprise. "Wonderful! Please follow me." The woman grabbed a menu and lead her deeper into the restaurant, passing numerous booths before seeing the small dog. Unlike her, he wore a more casual outfit, jeans, and a sport coat, not particularly flashy. It was one of the few times Silver felt like the overdressed one; oddly, it felt worse than when it was the other way around. "Good Evening, Spot. I look forward to our meal." "I do as well, order what you wish; it's on me today," Spot said while lifting his own menu. Silver nodded appreciatively as she sat down and looked over the options. While she usually learned more on a pescatarian diet… she did enjoy the occasional bit of red meat. "I've never been here before… what would you recommend?" "The Walker is always popular," Spot said while setting down his menu, glancing at the basket Silver rested on the seat. "I'll take your word for it…." She set down her menu. A waitress came and took their orders, quickly coming back with their drinks. Spot sipped his coke gingerly, not seeming particularly worried about what they had come here to do. Just intent on enjoying the cool glass. "So…what can I do to keep you on as a client?" Silver clasped her talons together "Ah… right to business… much better than ponies…." He swirled his glass for a moment before reaching into his pocket before resting a 12.7x108mm cartridge on the table. "How much do you think this costs?" "I'd say… somewhere between $3 or 4?…." She did some rough calculations. "Yes… when we buy from you…." He set a second seemingly identical round on the table. "How much do you think this one cost?" "The same?" Silver was unsure what he was getting at. "Wrong… less than $1 sometimes even as low as 25 cents." Spot leaned forward. "Do you understand what I'm getting at?" "Your talking about surplus munition from China…." Silver began to put the pieces together. "Mhm… they are auctioning everything they have just to keep the lights on in Beijing… it's not difficult to source from them." Spot gently toyed with the surplus round with one of his clawed fingers. "…. You really think they can match our quality?… What about when it runs dry? You're not the only one taking scoops from the rice pot; it's only a matter of time until the shamoji starts scraping the bottom…." She pushed the basket over. Spot raised an eyebrow pulling the basket over. Silver could almost see his eyes brighten. "True… but there are other manufacturers who offer better prices…." "You mean Evergreen Ammo, with their notoriously high operations cost deficit? Or what about Minnesota Munitions with their worker strike that's on its 8 month anniversary? Oh, don't tell me your betting on Beaver Ballistics!" She chuckled, only have jokingly. "We're the best in town, and you know it." Spot raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you are, maybe you aren't, but don't pretend our relationship is one-sided. We're the biggest retailer in the US and still growing!" "Exactly… we need each other… being the biggest retailer of arms means little if the shelves are empty…." Silver smiled, glancing at the bottle. "But if your so concerned about the price of our products… how about we negotiate…." Spot eyed the bottle, grinning. "Ohhhh, I like where this is going… I'm willing to go as high as… $1.50 a round with a 40 percent decrease in price for the others." "I couldn't possibly go any lower than $2.00 and 20 percent decrease…." Silver crossed her arms. "Well, we are at an impasse…." Spot pulled out the bottle and motioned for the waitress to bring two shot glasses. "How about we settle it with a game?" "Oh, before we eat? Your sure that's wise?" Silver watched the glasses get set on the table before Spot began to pour. "It will make it go much faster." Spot set the bottle down. "But it only matters if your willing to play." "I studied under the premier party p-... creature." Silver leaned forward, smiling widely after catching herself. "And learned to drink every dog in my clan under the table when I was 12!" He grasped the glass, smirking, looking deep into her eyes. "One….two…..three!" They counted together and took a slug…Then again…and again… and again. 8 shots in Silver realized regardless of the size difference, Spot was holding his own. The small dog didn't seem bothered at all; meanwhile, the alcohol was just starting to catch up to her. Up, swallow, down, pour, they two of them repeated like machines, taking turns filing the glasses. Something that was steadily getting harder for her to do cleanly. But it seemed the shots were finally catching up to the canid across from her. "N-Mmmmf… y-you ready to submit h-half breed?" Spot struggled to keep his composure, but his flushed cheeks showed his blood-alcohol level was rising. "Not… on your l-life…. Mutt!" She took another slug after he poured. The two of them were so focused on their little game they hadn't even noticed my meals had arrived. Two vast medium-rare porterhouse steaks sat untouched while the sides of potatoes, peas, and carrots began to cool. But neither one of them cared; it seemed even the business deal had become just noise in the background. They grew increasingly competitive, wanting to see who would relent first, like a game of chicken. Eventually, Silver would try to pour another round… was it the 15th?… or 18th?… she wasn't sure… only to realize the bottle was empty. Spot raised his paw, motioning for the waitress to come back. "Bring… R-Rotgut…" He slurred a bit while Silver became nervous; this dog was at least as drunk as she was… but still happy to go on! The waitress would quickly come back with a clay jug capped off with a large cork. Just looking at it made her heart sink, even she wasn't sure if she could keep going with that foul drink. He began to pour the clear liquid into the glasses, a smell that could be easily compared to jet fuel… with a hint of salmonberry of all things. Just bringing the glass up to her nose made her wince, but she opened her beak and swallowed just in time. About a quarter way through the jug, the two of them were reaching their limit. The hippogriff and Diamond dog increasingly lean on the table to support themselves while visibly struggling to keep the toxic drink down. Both of them having to suppress heaving while staring the other down, hoping the other would buckle first… "Looking…. L-light… S-Spot…." Silver wobbled a bit in her seat, glancing down at the glass while the dog struggled to pour the oddly colored drink into the glass. "H-heh…. You… l-look ready…. To drop! G-give in!" Spot finally managed to fill the two glasses, while the drinking got slower, neither one stopped. But just as the jug began to reach the halfway point, Spot stopped. "$1.60….and… hic… 35 percent…." He looked at her. Silver had to take a moment to register what he said before swallowing. "$1.80…25 percent…." "…..$1.70… and 25 percent…final offer…." Spot stared into her eyes. Silver stared back for a few moments before nodding. "Alright…." After that, they both blacked out. ——————————————————————— Silver began to slowly come too… with the strong taste of steak favored vomit filling her mouth, making her gag. Pushing herself up from the toilet, she struggled to open her eye to see where she was. The familiar walls of her bathroom surrounded her, though she couldn't remember how she got home. Looking back down in the bowl, she saw about 30-40 dollars worth of steak alone filling the container. Shuttering, she flushed it down before pushing herself back against the closed door, huffing a bit. As she steadily became more aware of her surroundings, the annoying blaring of her phone became increasingly hard to ignore. Feeling around for the door handle, she rolled out of the bathroom, seeing her coveralls by the bed. Dragging herself over, she grasped the phone from the pocket and placed it to her ear. "Y-ya?…" The worried voice of Fizzle filled her ears. "Silver?! Where are you? I've been trying to reach you for hours!" His shriek voice hammered into her hangover. "W-what?… what time is it?…." She mumbled, letting out a beak cracking yawn. "9:23 pm!" Silvers's bloodshot eyes widened as she glanced at her phone and cursed. "I'll be there in 15…." "Nope… I'm driving over." Fizzle responded before she could hang up. "N-no, it's fine." Silver leaned against the wall as she held her phone. "You're hungover; you shouldn't even be near a car right now." Fizzle said firmly. "I'll be there in 15…" the dragon hanged up before she could argue. Staggering to the door, she sat on the steps watching, attempting to massage away her headache. After a while, the sound of a large SUV could be heard as the dragon pulled up. Once his car was parked, the pale dragon stepped out, pulling the large egg with him. "Evening Silver…." He yawned, looking somewhat exhausted, not doubt of handling screaming children for 12 hours. "Fizzle, I'm so sorry I-"She was cut off by the dragon raising his hand. "Silver, I get it… I know how your job is; Martha told me all about your meeting at the Slaughterhouse…." He gave her a faint smirk. "Taking on Spot? I'm impressed…." "H-how the pluck did she know!?" Silver looked horrified. "Language!" He nodded his head to the egg. "Oh come on, you know that woman hears everything… also, it doesn't help you were seated right next to her." He raised a scaly eyebrow. "Hmmmmf…. She should mind her own business…." Silver muttered, crossing her forelegs. "Come on, she doesn't mean any harm… she was impressed you held your own. Keep in mind that's coming from the biggest realtor in the county! That has to mean something." Fizzle handed over the egg. "Doesn't make her any less nosey…." She pouted before nuzzling her egg. "No… no, it doesn't…." Fizzle shook his head, chuckling, turning to head back to the car only to be stopped by Silver grasping his tail. "Hmm?" "Before you go…." She made her way back into the trailer, setting her egg in the cradle before coming back with her purse. "Let me pay you for the extra time…." "Silver, it's not-"The look on her face made him swallow those words. "O-ok…" She dug through her purse, eventually pulling out a small wad of cash pushing it into the dragon's claws. "Fizzle… thanks for watching the twins… I'm sorry I put you in that position…." "Silver… the twins are the easiest kids I have to watch! It's no trouble, I promise!" He hugged her tight. "Have a good night, alright?" "I will…" She smiled, hugging him back before letting the drake pull away. Eventually heading back into the trailer before peaking out the window watching him drive off. Just when she was about to collapse into bed, the obnoxious beeping of her RPi 400 computer pulled her attention from the pillows. Mumbling, she reached over to the nearby table, hitting her talons against the small Bluetooth keyboard, attempting to shut it up. Only to inadvertently switch on the zoom call… "Silver!" The voice of Gallus filled her ears. "O-oh Gallus! S-sorry, it's a bit late!" She struggled to sit up, trying to hide the fact she looked ready to collapse. "I know… but I managed to get a signal out here and wanted to check up on you and the kids…." A smile formed on his beak. "I'm sorry I wasn't there…." A frown started to form. "Gallus…. Neither one of us even knew we could have kids! We couldn't possibly have planned for this." She shook her head, scooting closer to the camera. "Still…" He was about to continue only to be cut off by Silver. "Uh-huh… I won't hear you blame yourself when there's nothing you can do about it." She puffed out her cheeks and stared into his eyes as best she could. "You're a navy gryphon; you have a job to do; just be happy you'll be back for when they hatch." A weak smile formed on her own beak. "I guess your right… how was work today?" He asked, seeming to relax a bit. "Well… nothing special… I just managed to keep someone on as a client…." She shrugged, giggling a bit. "Heh… I'm willing to bet it was a bit more interesting than that…." He leaned forward a bit. "How can you tell?…." She looked surprised. "Bloodshot eyes, ruffled feathers, and somehow… I can smell the booze through the screen." He deadpanned. "I… might have gone to the Slaughterhouse… and it got a little outa hand…." She rubbed the back of her head, blushing. "Silver…" He shook his head. "I hope you didn't drive like that… especially with the kids…." "N-no no… I'm pretty sure I was towed home…." She avoided eye contact. "Fizzle brought the twins home for me… so.. they didn't have to hear all that…." "Towed?…" He didn't seem to like that much better. "Well ya… a lot of business creatures get a little… tipsy at that place!" She giggled a bit. "They probably called Tipsy Tow for me… like most patrons…." Gallus muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Just promise you won't do any business deals involving that kinda drinking until I'm back?…." "I promise." She giggled a bit. "You worry too much…." "I think I worry plenty, Silver…." Gallus crossed his forelegs. "Hmmm… soooo… what have you been up to?" Silver pouted a bit in response, trying to change the subject. "Mostly just patrol… thankfully I've been able to fly a bit more… it's not quite the same as… before but… the Grumman Otter is pretty fun to pilot..." He looked distracted. "Gallus… is it about you-" The look he gave made her drop it. "It's fine… just a long patrol…." He exhaled tiredly. "Did you find anything out there?" She tilted her head to the side. "The usual… out of place Chinese fishing boats, cargo ships, a drunken party boat miles off course…." He shook his head. "They're still doing that? Wait… drunken party boat?" She looked surprised. "Mhm, we had to escort them back to Chinese waters…. Cause the Japanese Fleet was itching to try their new McKinley Destroyers…." He rubbed the bridge of his beak. "They're used to fishing with impunity…." "Well ya… that's all over the news… especially after what happened in Colombia… but what's this about a Party Boat?" She looked curious. "Well… apparently, some people still don't know the difference between cruise control and autopilot… morons got piss drunk and left the thing running through the night… they had been adrift for days living off cold cocktail wieners and deviled eggs… oh and BuzzBallz… a lot of BuzzBallz." "Why was it your guy's problem?" "Several days with nothing to drink but alcohol and salty snacks? It was a miracle they weren't dead when we found them! I doubt they would have lasted another few hours…." He shook his head. "What is with stupid creatures and water?" "I dunno… apparently, Florida is full of them…." Gallus chuckled. "Ohhhh, that sounds like a fun trip~…." She giggled. "I'm sure when the twins are old enough, we could visit… I'm sorry I can't call more often, Silver…." Gallus rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Your working Gallus, you don't have to explain anything… all you have to do is look forward to leave." Silverstream smiled tiredly at her husband. "Can… I see the twins?…." He asked, smiling faintly. Silver nodded her head, leaving the camera's view for a moment before coming back with the large egg. Holding it up for the camera with a small smile, Gallus meanwhile seemed close to tearing up. Silver hummed happy, despite the hour. ——————————————————————— United States Lincoln Madison Fields Riverside Bachelor Flats 10:47 pm Spot stumbled down the hallway, brushing against the walls before finally finding his door. Digging into his clothes, he eventually found the key and started to try and shove it into the lock, taking a few tries before he got it right. Nearly falling toward, he stumbled into the apartment seeing his two brothers already passed out in their respective beds. Working to the kitchen nook, he started to pour himself a glass of water before collapsing into a chair, glancing at a nearby wall. His blurred vision just managing to focus on a small black and white photograph of the three of them… so long ago. Despite torn edges and faded print, one could easily see the three were much younger, weary smiles covering their faces. They bunched together with River holding a deed, which was hung next to the photo… the deed to Ponyville Flats, and more importantly, the mining claim. Despite the poor image quality, the eyes said everything… three pups who had lost everything. Poor Fido had a forced smirk, but looking at the sides of his eyes, one could just see the tears threatening to leak out, Rover stood firm.. as he always had, putting on a brave face, but it wasn't hard to see through it… even Spot himself looked ready to sob in the photo. Just above the photograph as a framed newspaper article from the Fillydelphia Gazette, scarcely a blurb but its contents told it all. "Fillydelphia Train Tunnel Collapses, over 100 Canid Laborers Dead!", despite the seriousness of it… it was scarcely 200 words, all of which the three of them had memorized. 193 words… turning a tragedy into a hit piece, blaming the laborers for the collapse… but all Canids knew the truth… supplier raised the price of buttresses, ponies didn't wanna pay. Sipping his water, he remembered that white-coated and brown maned stallion at the office. Offering them peanuts to sign a waiver and non-disclosure agreement… pups barely out of school… with so many others, all pressured into signing the contract not knowing just what they were entitled to… Rover did… he fought… they didn't get more money… but they did get an old claim… it wasn't much, but it was better when the others. Part of him wondered what happened to the stallion… a faint smile imagining him wasting away on the Reservation, though being a city pony, he was more than likely long dead… Profits were lean… but they survived for years; Rover pledged they wouldn't work for ponies like their parents did… Despite the hardships, they managed to grow the operations, soon having more than 10 other canids working for them… then the White Unicorn came and ruined everything… Signs were posted.. though they couldn't afford a fence… they tried chasing her off… she always came back… then Rover saw how she could locate gems… Despite their success… it was instinctual to want more, but deeper… she reminded them of that stallion… the coat and smell… he would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy making her pull the carts instead of one of their own… but it wasn't meant to be, her friends came and "rescued" her. A few weeks later, news spread about how Diamond Dog Mining kidnapped an Element of Harmony… they didn't know! It's not like newspapers were delivered to the flats, and they avoided pony settlements as much as they could, just ordering supplies from a catalog. It wasn't worth the trouble of going to Ponyvillle; they couldn't even handle a zebra after all. Many of their clients pulled out or demanded lowered rates… when they were already below market! It was a stupid plan… it was only through Princess Luna's pity they avoided the dungeons… but the rumor mills and tabloids did plenty more damage. Still, they survived… up until Convergence… he was thankful Rover was able to hide these few things in the old mines… it wasn't much… but it reminded them where they began… smirking faintly, he saw a more recent photo. It was taken less than a year ago of the three of them all in uniform, of all the things he imaged Rover doing, being a glorified fry cook wasn't something he had ever expected… But that confident smile told him his elder brother was happy, maybe for the first time since their parents passed. Fido was a simple Canid, becoming a heavy equipment operator at the Devils Pits Mines, ferrying ponies deep below the ground to work and moving countless tons of sulfur ore, he'd likely never leave the tunnels… then finally himself. If anyone told him he'd be making the most of all of them, he doubted he would have believed it… but while he could afford his own place… in fact, they all could… they couldn't bear to be apart… Finishing his water, he set the glass in the sink, slowly sneaking to his bed, slipping under the covers hearing the familiar snores of his brothers. Closing his eyes, he was out like a light, the clock in the center of the three beds slowly counting down to when the day began all over again.