//------------------------------// // 3 - Trial and Error // Story: In The City That Never Sleeps // by Moonatik //------------------------------// 16:56 - 16/06/1008 - Hoofboken, Manehattan Nightmare and Sol hopped off the bus that took them into the suburbs around Manehattan. A few strangers got off at their stop as well, one of them grumbling at the fact it was two minutes late. Nightmare quietly scoffed at their ungratefulness. Their destination was a short walk across the street, which, at a glance, was nothing spectacular. A cubic brick building on a slightly isolated part of the street with blacked out windows and a large sign on top that read ‘HOOFBROKEN GUN RANGE’ in plain, bold text. Two flagpoles on the roof hoisted the Imperial Lunar flag and the modern Lunar Equestrian flag, fluttering in the wind. “This cannot be the most distinguished business of this type in the city,” Nightmare noted. “Eh, I just come here cuz I know the owner. Guy called Blown Fuse, we met while we were in the Army,” Sol answered. “Also, I’m gonna need that bag back, the one we dropped in that pocket dimension of yours.” Nightmare quickly retrieved the bag from her pocket dimension, completing the necessary magic like it was nothing. Sol took the bag into his own magic. “Another reason for coming here, Blown’s a bit of a Griffaboo and stocks Griffonian bullets.” Sol slung the bag onto his back. “You’ll see why that’s important in a moment.” Disregarding his cryptic behaviour, Nightmare Moon followed Sol as he pushed through the door to the little building. They were presented with a small lobby area that felt like an exhibition of gun-nuttery. A gun wall behind the counter held weapons of every caliber, military and civilian grade alike, with the wall opposite featuring posters depicting an assortment of weapons captioned with vaguely threatening jingoistic slogans, many of them prominently featuring Nightmare Moon herself. Nightmare wondered for a moment how a nation like Equestria which prided itself on peaceful harmony for over a thousand years could be home to something like this, only for her to swell with pride as she acknowledged her hoof in the emergence of a national culture celebrating aggressive weaponry. A door behind the counter swung open and a thestral stallion in a black sleeveless jacket trotted through. “Hehey! If it ain’t Sergeant Nightsoil! What can I do for you?” A grin flashed on their face and their ears flicked up as they dashed behind the counter. He must have been the Blown Fuse character that Sol was referring to. “Hey Blowhard.” Unzipping the bag, Sol trotted up to the counter. “Just need a lane to give this a whirl.” With a deliberate grace, Sol removed the item from the bag like he was unsheathing a sword from its scabbard, revealing a machine gun. Its sleek, elongated barrel extended out of the robust cubic receiver. Intricate technical detail up and down the device signalled the meticulous craftsgriffship. A small handle and trigger, clearly designed for griffon’s talons, stuck out the bottom whilst a thick wooden stock protruded out of the back. Sol was eyeing the weapon up like it were a succulent portobello steak, or a seductive mare calling him to bed. “Holy-” Blown stammered. “Is this a MG05?” Sol laughed. “Damn right!” “Where the hell did you even get this beauty?” Blown had stars twinkling in his eyes. “Perks of being married to the Warmaster,” Sol answered with a broad grin. Blown Fuse reached for the gun, only for him to pull his hooves back inches away as he turned to look at Sol pleadingly. “Can I?” “Hrmm…” Sol rubbed his chin, his eyes gliding over the room. He took his hoof away and cast Blown Fuse a smirk. “Be my guest.” Immediately Blown Fuse scooped up the gun, giggling through his grinning teeth, cradling it like a newborn child. Nightmare cast a raised eyebrow at Sol. “You had me carry a gun?” “Not just any gun!” Sol leaned back on the counter. “That is the Reichswaffen Maschinengewehr 1005, built for the Griffonian Reichsarmee. Fires nine hundred 7.92×57mm Blautal rifle rounds per minute up to an effective range of two kilometres, all while being light enough to be carried by a single griffon. Or in our case, a single pony. If you believe the press releases, the most advanced machine gun in the world.” Blown was practically drooling over the gun. “I believe ‘em, alright. Nightmare forgive me, for I covet that which belongs to my neighbour,” he whispered, licking his lips as his eyes scanned every intricate detail of the lethal machine. A few moments later he carefully set the gun back on the counter, clearing his throat whilst regaining some of his composure. “Say, Sol, who’s your friend?” Sol put up towards Nightmare. “This is-” Nightmare pushed past Sol. “I am Dream Scaper,” she announced. Blown’s smile disappeared, and he blinked. “You a vet, Dream Scaper?” he asked, his smile reappearing albeit with a raised eyebrow. “Sol shoulda told you we have a 50% discount for veterans if you wanna rent a lane.” “Yes. I have dedicated much of my life to fighting for Equestria,” Nightmare answered, having chosen her words carefully. “Oh, sweet!” Blown’s wings fluttered. “Which branch? Where were you stationed? Ever deployed overseas?” “It would be more efficient to ask where I have not fought.” “Alright, wow,” he chuckled, giving a sardonic look in his eyes as they widened in disbelief and admiration. “Well, I’m a North Zebrica vet. Sol and I met at, um… Ain Trotgourait, right? “No, we met at Douaouda Mareine!” Sol said with a smirk. “You sobered up in Ain Trotgourait.” “Were you engaged against the Storm King’s occupation or against the Hippogriff-instigated terror campaign?” Nightmare followed up. Blown narrowed his eyes, quietly staring at Nightmare for a few moments. “...the Storm King? Equestrian troops weren’t used against the revolt.” “Some were,” Nightmare countered. “Anyway!” Sol butt in, before the Empress herself may have mistakenly revealed any state secrets. “Shooty shooty! You got the right rounds for this?” “Oh yes! Of course.” Blown Fuse smiled. “And you’re in luck, the place is empty right now so you can have whichever lane you like.” After Sol’s money and Blown Fuse’s bullets switched hooves, he and Nightmare proceeded into the range itself. The range itself was bland and empty, with white concrete walls on each side of the area with metal barriers dividing the lanes and keeping ponies out of the range. Sol cast an ear protection spell on himself. Promptly Nightmare cast a much stronger ear protection spell on both of them. Sol chose a lane near the middle, setting up a paper target on the target rails and sending it some fifty meters down. On the far end of the range, a massive heap of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of spent rounds formed a wall of lead and copper. “I have to ask,” Nightmare craned her neck towards Sol, whilst he was loading bullets into the gun’s drum magazine. “Are you permitted to possess this sort of weaponry?” Sol glanced over his shoulder. He cast Nightmare a smug smirk. “You tell me, Empress. I believe the charter enshrining our right to bear arms carries your seal. But yes, I’ve filled out all the right forms and got permission from all the right ponies.” Sol clicked the magazine on, slammed the feed cover shut, stood up on his back legs whilst heaving the weapon up with both his front hooves. A cheesy grin spread across his face as he cocked back the handle. “And I thank you for it.” “You would be more proficient if you used your magic to carry the weapon.” Nightmare asked. “Probably,” he admitted. He firmed up his stance, bringing the gun up and aiming down range. His horn twinkled with magic, an aura enveloping the weapon’s trigger. “But this is way more fun.” The gun roared to life. Nightmare jumped back as Sol burst out into screaming laughter. Head-splitting bangs, more than anyone could count, filled the range sounding like a chainsaw held up to their ears. Though he held on tight the forceful recoil kicked him back. The torrent of lead nearly tore the target in half within moments. The drumming continued seemingly without end, with Sol’s faint hollering barely audible beneath the cacophony until it all coalesced into indistinct noise. Barely half a minute later, as suddenly as it started up, the gun stopped exploding, only clicking, having expended all its ammunition, leaving only a fading echo and the lingering scent of smoke. Sol nearly fell forwards once the barrage had ended. “Haha, woo!” he howled, dropping the gun on the surface in front of them and removing the magazine. “Okay, you gotta try this!” Owing to Sol’s quick magical work, the magazine was refilled in no time, and the gun was ready to roar. He retrieved the ruined target and replaced it with a fresh one. With everything ready, Sol stood aside allowing Nightmare to take the lead. Remembering how Sol held the gun, she picked it up with her hooves and hoisted herself up onto her hind legs. It felt light as a twig to her, and just as fragile. “So what you want to do is-” A single bang cut him off as she tapped the trigger. It rocked her ears and there was some recoil, but Nightmare’s tight grip held it exactly in place. At the centre of the target was a single, clean bullet hole. “I was gonna say what you want to do is lean into it and aim down the sight,” Sol said. “But it seems you got the hang of it.”  Taking on his advice and adopting a more appropriate stance, she let off a few more shots. They too were exactly on target, the gun barely moving in her grip. The sound was by far the most intense part of it. “Try holding it down!” a grinning Sol suggested. Holding down the trigger, she let loose a barrage of bullets into the target. The target whipped back, but the bullets continued in a straight uninterrupted streak. Before the magazine was empty, she stopped. Nightmare looked over the weapon and looked at Sol. “I’m not sure this is for me.” “Really?” said Sol, the smile falling from his face. “I thought you loved training with weapons. I know Selenite mentioned it once or twice.” “Melee weapons, yes. I enjoy the thrill of hoof-to-hoof, sword-to-sword, or mage-to-mage combat. This does nothing for me. This ends the fight in a flash.” Nightmare bowed her head. “And if I ever wanted to end a fight instantly…” A burst of lightning streaked from her horn and struck the target, incinerating it instantly and leaving only ash. It happened so quick Sol had no chance to react before it was done. Nightmare herself didn’t even flinch, during or after the action. “Really thought it’d be up your alley.” Sol’s eyes drifted to the floor as he lightly kicked around some spent casings. “Nothing makes me feel tougher than having some iron on my hip.” “For you, perhaps. But, for me…” Nightmare turned the gun on herself. “Woah, what are you-” A sharp bang and the light sound of metal hitting the floor. Nightmare was unscathed, even her face unmoved. The spot the bullet had struck bore no sign of such an impact. Infuriated, Sol snatched the gun out of Nightmare’s hooves. She made no attempt to hold on. “Don’t do that,” he panted. “Ever! A ricocheting bullet is no joke, okay? Always keep it pointed down range or at the floor.” “Exactly,” she asserted. “This machine empowers and threatens you. The projectiles it expends could end your life in the blink of an eye. To me, it is nothing but a long piece of metal. It poses no threat to me and does not alter my combat capabilities.” She drew in a long sigh, her eyes sliding to the ground. “I suspect this is where my estrangement originates.” Sol put the gun down. “I suspect,” he groaned, making no attempt to hide the frustration in his voice, “if you want to understand regular ponies, you can start by dropping that attitude.” Nightmare felt her breath catch in her throat, her body went stiff. “I beg your pardon?” She glared daggers at Sol. “The whole ‘I’m so far above you little ponies’ thing,” he said with a dismissive wiggle of one of his hooves. “Like, you literally just said you think you don’t get regular ponies because you’re too good. Heck, I don’t think I’ve heard a single ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ out of you this whole trip. You just demand things from ponies and act like you automatically deserve it.” “Just who do you think you are?” Nightmare sneered. Rolling his eyes, Sol used his magic to start reloading the gun. “I’m the pony you chose to show you an ordinary perspective, in case you don’t remember. That’s what I’m doing. And you’re never going to get that ordinary perspective if you see yourself as a god.” “But I am,” Nightmare stated plainly. Sol froze, his magic dissipating and dropping the partially loaded magazine. He slowly turned to Nightmare Moon. His mouth hung open. “You’re really gonna go there?” “Didn’t you hear your friend earlier? Didn’t you hear what he said, ‘Nightmare forgive me’? It is not what I feel I am, it is not what I see myself to be, it is what I am,” she insisted, with certainty behind her voice. Sol sighed, furrowing his brow at Nightmare. “As far as I can tell, you’re a pony. A strong, important pony, but still a pony. Just as falliable as any of us.” “I am more than a mere pony,” she spat back. “I am more than any of you ponies. I have brought about the births and deaths of myths and legends. I have walked the surface of the Moon and seen the whole of the Earth. I have spilt the blood of ancient gods once thought invincible. I have banished the bane of the sun’s light from this world. Through blood and toil I forged this very nation, my nation, my Empire, and I am leading it to a prosperous future! Does that sound like any old pony?” “Oh, boy,” he mumbled, looking away from her. “Look me dead in the eye, Nightshade.” The power behind her words forced him to meet her glare. “Tell me that I am not exceptional. Tell me that I’m anything like a normal pony. Tell me that I am not deserving of worship!” “Then what’s the point of us doing any of this?” Sol blurted out. Nightmare bared her teeth and felt ready to lunge forwards. She stopped, pulling back. She blinked. “The- the point?” “Like, what do you want to get out of this?” Sol pled. A few moments passed without an answer from Nightmare, so Sol carried on. “You wanted to come out to Manehattan disguised like that to get some perspective, now that I give it to you, you’re upset with me? You had plenty of chances to see a different perspective at the gallery, and as soon as you got one that offended you, you stormed out! So come on, tell me, what do you want out of this?” Nightmare kept her mouth shut, pulling in a breath through her nose. “I believe my aims were made clear before we left,” she asserted. Sol rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Well, they weren’t.” He looked up at her. “Look, I’m here to help you, Nightmare. If I don’t know what you’re looking for, I can’t do that. So please, for your own sake, if not mine, tell me what you want out of this.” A moment of tense silence passed with the pair staring at each other. Nightmare’s eyes soon wandered to the floor. A few moments later she looked up, sighing. “I want to better understand my subjects. I want to see my Empire as they do. I want an understanding of their interests, their attitudes, their values, their concerns. So much has changed in the years I was absent, the Equestria I knew is long gone. I thought that by spending time with a normal subject, I’d see what I needed. Then, I could form a deeper connection with all my subjects.” Sol was quiet and still as he listened to Nightmare’s answer. “Right.” He nodded his head slowly. “Okay. You’re probably gonna find that a lot harder if you dismiss the perspectives of everyone who doesn’t fall over you.” “When those perspectives are misguided, ignorant, and ungrateful, they are worthless,” Nightmare insisted. “What, completely?” Sol shook his head with a sigh. “You couldn’t imagine why they feel that way? You couldn’t think about how you might need to change?” “I don’t need to change, how dare you insinuate that.” Nightmare’s lips curled like she’d caught the scent of rotten eggs. “I said ‘might’. There’s no shame in admitting you might have to do things differently.” “What would I need to do differently?” “You tell me.” “Tell you what?” “You know yourself more than I do, so you’d know.” “I know that whatever you’re telling me is ridiculous.” “Really?” said Sol. “How about you look me in the eye, and tell me that there’s nothing in the last eight years that you would’ve done differently now that you’ve got hindsight.” He looked at Nightmare patiently. “It’s not a rhetorical question. I’m really asking. Take as much time as you need.” Nightmare’s eyes wandered around the room. “There are… A few things.” She sighed to herself. “There were a few ponies I’d placed in positions of authority I later learned I couldn’t rely on. Or assigned certain ponies to the wrong task. A few treacherous worms escaped my notice.” Sol raised his cheeks. “So you are capable of mistakes, you have gaps in your knowledge, and you’ve had to rely on other ponies. Or in other words, you’re not a perfect god, you’re a pony.” Rolling her head back, Nightmare rubbed her hoof into her forehead. “Ugh.” “Hey, you wanted my perspective,” Sol said, shrugging. “This is it.” “And you’re so much better, aren’t you,” Nightmare groaned. “Oh, hell no,” Sol snorted. “I've made all kinds of mistakes. Ask Sel any time and I’m sure she’ll give you a list longer than Starwhirl’s collected works. Difference is, because I know they can happen, I can do more to make sure less of them do.” “Coming here and having this conversation was a mistake,” Nightmare grunted. Sol raised his hoof and opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked at the ground, and brought his head up with a nod. “You know what, you might be right about that.” Nightmare’s eyebrows shot up. “So you admit that you spoke in error?” “No, no!” Sol laughed. “Specifically coming here. To the range. You wanted to get to know regular ponies and, well, this is definitely more of a ‘get to know me’ thing than a ‘get to know regular ponies’ thing. I’m glad we got to have this conversation, though.” Nightmare rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Come on, someone had to tell you that,” said Sol. “Just get to the point,” she groaned. “Tell me where I should go to mingle with commoners.” Sol opened his mouth, closed it, and quietly sighed. “Sure thing.”