I'm happy to be a Reploid, so it's not often that I envy humans. I have nothing against them specifically and I'm meant to protect them anyway, but there's no changing the fact that those of us built for combat are superior to them in almost every way that counts.
Note that I said 'almost'. I'd love to be able to eat and drink the same things they do. It's my understanding that tea's supposed to be good for the nerves. Anything to be able to keep my non-existent heart from racing!
I stayed hidden behind the air conditioner and tried to organize my priorities while doing my best to stay calm. Alright, I told myself. First, get down from here without being spotted. Second, find a decent shelter, preferably one that isn't already occupied. Third, try to find sustenance that's compatible with my systems. Fourth, either find someone capable of doing repairs on me, or--failing that--find tools that can help me do the job myself. Preferably the former: I don't think I could fix any damage on my back solo.
Fifth and most importantly, determine the full extent of this society's tech base and see if they can return me to Neo Arcadia. I got here through some scientific means, and those means are going to bring me back.
I'm not foolish enough to believe that my home is truly a paradise, not with the situations we've been facing and the conditions our society lives in. The thing is, I'm worried. I might hide it behind a veil of self-confidence and combat drive, but I fear for the citizens of Neo Arcadia. There is a tyrant in charge of the city now, and he's not going to care who lives and dies. Assuming Harpuia and Fefnir survived and are still active, they're going to need help to keep the citizens safe.
I've said before that I didn't care if the world burned as long as I got to keep fighting Zero. Knowing what I do now of the outside influence I was under back then, it was a mistake for me to say that. Make no question about it, those battles bring me life... but is life really worth living if those who were counting on you went to their deaths believing you betrayed them? I'm a Guardian, not just of Master X but of Neo Arcadia, of the people within. Zero might be the one tasked with fighting Dr. Weil at every turn, but can someone of even his awesome combat ability hold the line? Maybe, maybe not, but either way he's still going to need help.
I have to go back. Even if no means of returning to Neo Arcadia exists here, I will not permit myself to give up until every possibility is exhausted. I owe everyone--my closest compatriots, Phantom, Master X, the citizens who are just trying to live, even Zero and that ragtag Resistance--that much at least.
I still want to fight Zero again, there's no question of that... but I like to think I have a better grasp of my priorities now. Heh... amazing what crosses one's mind in the middle of what's potentially enemy territory, isn't it?
Having calmed down with that bit of rumination out of the way, I decide to see if there is in fact a way down from here. A look across the street shows me that the two advertising ponies have finished their work while I was occupied and are making their way down via a ladder, talking to each other about something I can't quite hear... there will be more on that later, for sure. The right side is a no-go, as it confirms for me that the building I'm on top of is located at an intersection, and both that and the back of the property are visible from the road. I don't need to see anything to know that there are plenty of pedestrians going about their business down there, as the noise of a day in the life is unmistakable.
Left it is. After making sure my Frost Javelin is secure, I stalk towards the other side of the building, keeping low to the roof so as not to attract attention from the ground. Reaching a gap between buildings with no hiding places or discernible ways down, I make a short jump across and continue on...
---!
And realize a second too late that there's someone up here with me. I freeze up entirely (heh), hoping against hope that whoever it was doesn't scream and attract attention my way; I'd rather not use force to silence them if I don't have to. I know enough that I'd be seen as an alien myself, so those things are bound to happen sooner or later.
...
Twenty seconds of relative quiet succeed in surprising me further. There's no noise that would call attention to me. My eyes flick about before settling on the figure nestled in a corner of the roof, hidden away from prying eyes. It was another pony, obviously, with a light gray coloration and a black mane and tail. That at least is pretty close to what I imagine a horse would look like... but there are two things that are visually throwing me off. Three, if you count the fact that it's curled up like someone's housepet.
The first is a marking of some kind at the top of its hind leg. I debate with myself whether to check it out or not, and eventually I compromise by taking a single step closer and no more. Far as I can tell, the marking seems to resemble a pair of green-yellow cat's eyes. It almost looks like a tattoo, but it is incredibly detailed to the point that I almost feel like the eyes are staring out at the world. I don't know if it really is a tattoo or if it's their idea of branding, but whoever created it was an artist. I can recognize that much.
The second's making me take that one step backwards as my eyes widen: the pony has wings. Wings!
I'm not entirely a stranger to the concept of pegasi. There's a weather control station back in Neo Arcadia, and the Reploid in charge of the facility was built to resemble said creature... "Pegasolta Eclair", I believe his name is. The thing is, there's nothing to indicate that the concept was more than just that, a concept. A myth. Thoroughly non-existent.
And yet there's no denying what I'm seeing. Once more, I have to force several overrides on my internal processes to keep myself from freaking out at the sight of a genuine pegasus just snoozing in the corner without a care in the world. I can even hear the quiet neighing sounds it makes when it snores, which in most circumstances would probably sound adorable.
These are not most circumstances, and I'm already very nervous as it is. I move as quietly as I can across the rooftop to avoid waking her up, and look down across the edge. I smile, relieved at what I see: there's a fire escape on the side of the building that leads down into an alley. Said alley contains a chain-link fence that divides it in half, a sizable dumpster, and enough containers and debris to potentially conceal me from view. Today must not be trash day, I joke silently. I won't complain. One step at a time.
Examining my escape route, I note with some dismay the doors on each landing. Far as I can tell several of them are open, most likely to let the air circulate. There are no cooling units connected to this building, so I have to assume that if this is a residence, it's low-rent. Of course, that's also assuming that economics and housing work the same way here that they do in Neo Arcadia, but that's not important. What is important is that if the doors are ajar to keep the building cool, there's likely someone keeping watch. If there's any sort of crime in the district, they would be stupid not to.
Maybe I should just jump straight down to the ground? ... No, better not risk it. Even damaged I can manage a fall from this height easily, but the landing would still attract more attention than I'd need. I'm certain I can hear someone shouting inside the building, though it's not directed at me just yet.
And it just occurred to me that if there's one pegasus, there's doubtless going to be more. I'm surprised that there isn't more of them in the skies right now. Why not?
No point in wondering these things right now. Instead of climbing onto the fire escape, I sit on the edge close by and slide down next to it, pushing myself against the bricks. Makes less noise, and I'm not dropping quite so quickly.
Or at least, that was the plan. As I reach the fourth floor, a housefly meanders out of the building and decides to make my acquaintance by landing right on my eye. Not a deterrent, but still an inconvenience. Grabbing a railing to steady myself and stop my descent, I raise my other hand to shoo it away.
"DIE, FLY!"
Wait, that wasn't me shouting---!
KER-SMACK!
Another plan without a flawless execution. A green-outlined jumbo-sized flyswatter swung out the door and hit me squarely on the eye, obviously aiming for the bug sitting there. Turned out to be of no avail, since it flew free just before impact and buzzed on its merry way.
Well. Points for enthusiasm, I guess, I think, giving the pony who had appeared in the door a look of bemused wonder that hides my anxiety. So much for staying hidden.
Ebony Evening was a mare on a mission.
Well, not quite a mission. More like a “quest”. A quest to exterminate any intruders that dared enter her personal fortress, to teach them the error of their ways before she removed them from this world. None would slow her down, let alone stop her, and she would emerge victorious.
Yes, the mare known as Ebony Evening—or just “Eebon” to her friends—was a legend in her own mind. Dealing with the full force of adolescent invulnerability will do that to a pony.
With a coat of darkness beyond blackest pitch and deeper than the darkest night, paired up with a long gray mane and tail that waved about in the slightest breeze, she was certainly attractive from the perspective of other ponies. Several of those that her mother was acquainted with in the entertainment and modeling industries had suggested that she start learning the tools of either trade. It would certainly help with the finances were she successful, and after a few years it would get her family out of the cheap apartment they lived in.
But of course. Her Cutie Mark of a crossed flyswatter and can of bug spray certainly showed that she was cut out for modeling. What could possibly go wrong?
No. She had no interest in such things, as they were best left to those who knew what they were doing and had the necessary talent for them. She had a much loftier goal.
“One, two, three, four, shut your mouth and close the door. Five, six, seven, eight, set the traps and place the bait...”
On this fine summer afternoon, Ebony was parading up and down the hallway outside her family's apartment. Softly chanting something she'd made up to keep herself marching, she kept her eyes constantly on the move for intruders. Nothing that entered the building would cause trouble for her mother.
Wherever she was. Why did she never want to sleep in her own room? Sure, it got too warm during the summer, but that was hardly a point against it, was it? Even during the spring and fall, when temperatures were much more reasonable, she refused to take her naps in the apartment. It just seemed strange to her.
And it was a mite embarrassing, too. Whenever ponies found her sleeping in places she had no place being, they kept calling her a hobo. They knew she had a roof over her head to return to at night, and Ebony knew that her parents earned enough bits to get by, so why---
A very slight motion interrupted her musings, and her eyes narrowed. The flyswatter on the homemade bandoleer she wore was immediately engulfed in a corona of green magic, and in a blur of motion it slammed against the wall next to her. “HYAA! I gotcha!” she crowed triumphantly, basking in the continued success of her mission.
...Or not, as the fly she was aiming for buzzed in a few haphazard circles before drifting unhurriedly towards the open door that led outside. Gritting her teeth, Ebony chased after it. The flyswatter shook a bit in her magical grip as she ran. “Oh no, you are not getting away from me! I see you over there! Get back here!”
Not understanding Equish and lacking the ability to care, the fly didn't listen. Upon exiting the hall, it made a sharp left and disappeared from view. Ebony's ears twitched as she registered the lack of buzzing, which told her that the bug had made a landing somewhere.
An eager grin. Perfecto! As she reached the door, she swung the flyswatter with all the magical force she could muster at where she'd estimated the bug had landed. "DIE, FLY!"
The flyswatter made contact with something, but the continued buzzing was proof enough that she had missed. Grumbling, she idly leaned out the door to see what she'd hit...
...
...!
!!!!
The thing was plastered to the outside of the building. One appendage had a death grip on the fire escape to keep itself from falling, another was held up as if it were about to swing at something, and its latter two were bent and pressing against the wall. Ebony didn't see any of the blue, white and gold clothing it wore, or its body and face having two different colors entirely, the damage the thing was covered with, or even the fin-like objects on the back of its head. And not for a moment did she wonder how it got there to begin with. She saw what she perceived as off-white skin, empty eyes, its mouth permanently set somewhere between arrogance and curiosity... and it was staring straight at her.
Ebony's eyes dilated, her breath hitching at the sight. Her heart raced as she struggled to get any words out, any at all. “M—M—M--...MANNEQUIN!” she finally shrieked. Magically hurling her flyswatter and bandoleer at the thing's face, she turned tail and galloped for the safety of her home down the hall. No no no no no no no NO NO NO NO NO!
I look down to see the objects the pony had chucked at me bounce off the railing before dropping four stories to the ground. Huh. I've been called a doll before, but I have a hunch that this wasn't flattery.
I don't think getting struck in the face with those things would have inconvenienced an average human, never mind a metal-bodied machine like myself, but I don't think she--sounded like a 'she' to me, anyway--thought it through. I had a feeling my appearance would have unnerved the populace, but this was a few steps beyond what I'd anticipated. This had the markings of a phobia.
I don't have any deep-seated fears myself, though I've known a few who had. The late elephant-esque Maha Ganeshariff of my own Deep Sea Squadron, for example, was suriphobic—that is, he was afraid of mice and mechaniloids modeled after them. It was bad enough that I started having a qualified therapist brought in to see him whenever he was off duty. Of course, he never got over his fear before his division by Zero, but the point is that this isn't the first time I've seen something like this in others.
I shake off any thoughts of my past subordinates as I risk a quick peek into the hall, just in time to see one of the doors slam shut. Logic and common sense would say not to get involved in this, since I don't know what her deal is and I could very well end up making it worse. At the same time, this misconception needs to be cleared up: I am not a mannequin. Just because I don't have a beating heart or working lungs, I don't need to blink, my pupils and irises are the same color, and I have this suit beneath my armor that makes me look like a mannequin, and... and...
"Eh-heh..." On second thought, maybe that little pony's fear is justified?
Yeah, I'm not getting involved... but it's not going to stop me from playing “nice gal” for once, though. Where's those things she threw at me? … There they are. It's just the work of a few moments to retrieve them from where they've fallen. It'll save her a trip, I think.
It's certainly a surprise knowing just complacent folks can be. The average passerby doesn't seem to be any more inclined to look down alleys here than they did back home. I've been keeping one eye on my surroundings the entire time, and whether it's one of the building's residents or the pedestrians strolling by, no one's bothered to investigate that pony's scream. That would indicate either one of two things: that no one here cares, or that expressing her fear this way is a common enough occurrence that it doesn't warrant an investigation, regardless of whether they care or not. Part of me is hoping it's the latter, because I don't want to be a pessimist right now.
Either way that's going to help me plenty, because this would have been incredibly risky otherwise.
The floor in the hallway is carpeted, something else I haven't seen too much of in my life. Granted it looks like it hasn't been replaced in decades, but it'll still muffle my footsteps well enough. Good thing, because trying to do “stealthy” while wearing heeled armored boots is what the humans call "boneheaded" even on a good day. I approach the door that the pony fled through, place the items against it and knock on it gently a few times...
...and race off as fast as I'm capable of, the built-in dash thrusters in my boots giving me metaphorical wings of my own.
I reach the fire escape just as I hear the door open. Taking care to keep my head tilted up so that my helmet's fins don't hit anything, I make a short hop to the left just high enough to clear the railing, while coming within a hair's breadth of hitting my head against the landing above me. In the same motion I do a 180° spin in mid-air and grab the railing to arrest my momentum, following it up by slamming my feet and free hand against the building's brick exterior. No longer in a hurry, I let go of the railing and let myself slide slowly to the ground.
Doesn't matter what condition I'm in. I am just too good at that.
Would I have been able to do those sorts of moves if I hadn't been a combat Reploid? Just in case anyone is able to download my memories in the future, I'd like to issue a warning: If you try these sorts of stunts at home, make sure you've signed your Will first.
Looking across both ends of the alley, I'm pleased to see that no one saw my little stunt. Looking above me to see if there's any pegasi, I can confirm that the air above me is clear. Too, the noise level from the streets hasn't changed any. Excellent.
Now then: the problem I have here is that I'll stand out if I try roving about in broad daylight. I'd like to see if I can accomplish anything when it gets dark, but I don't know when that's going to be. My internal chronometer is telling me that it's late morning, but since the last time it was calibrated was a few weeks ago--read: before I was blasted into another world--I can't trust it right now. So, I think I'll take the opportunity to hide a while.
My eyes roam around the alley. Now, how to go about doing that...
Leviathan's belief that she'd been unseen was off the mark.
When the scream reached her ears, the gray pegasus on the roof snapped awake immediately. "Ebony!" she'd whispered fearfully, taking flight and hovering over the alley.
She'd quickly scanned the area for whatever it was that had her eldest foal so frightened, spotting the "mannequin" in what seemed to her like an awkward position. She'd watched as it dropped to the ground and picked up several items, both of which the pegasus recognized as belonging to Ebony, and returned upstairs by repeatedly kicking off the wall. She'd drifted down and watched as it snuck over to their apartment and placed the items against the door, knocking to get her daughter's attention before bolting like a bat out of Tartarus. And she'd immediately returned to the rooftop out of sight before it could arrive back in the alley, her pre-parenthood reflexes and speed not failing her.
She counted to fifteen under her breath, then peeked back over the edge. The "mannequin" was putting together a makeshift shelter out of several crates, a tarp, and a few loose boards, all of which were left over from a remodeling just prior to the Summer Sun Celebration and were due to be taken away in a few days. She caught the detail that the shelter was positioned in such a way that no one who looked into the alley from the street could see inside.
After nodding in satisfaction with its work, it crawled beneath the tarp into one of the crates and did not come out again. The pegasus snorted softly. Dolls are looking more and more realistic these days. The way it was acting, you'd think it was really alive. She smiled. Well, alive or not, it was nice of it to be considerate of Ebony's phobia. Seemed in poor condition, whatever it was.
With nothing keeping her on the roof, she flew down towards her apartment with the intention of consoling her foal, dismissing the sheer oddity of a bipedal acrobatic doll taller than she was outright.
Never let it be said that Ponyville had a monopoly on Equestria's absurdities.