//------------------------------// // Chapter Fourteen // Story: Clipped Wings // by Desrium //------------------------------// Chapter Fourteen One's appearance speaks volumes about them before they even open their mouth. Baltimare Chic was a dress boutique located on the corner of Oats and Crunch street. There the classy ponies meet, talking, shopping admiring pre-war dresses that were kept ever so neat. But the two ponies had no business with these city folk, for their focus was on the Shadow Sweep. No, their business rested only with the shop keep. For Baltimare Chic was not just a mere dress store. It was -- apparently -- the city's premier outlet for anything related to apparel. And that meant it was the ideal place to get a ripped up vest fixed. "A vest!? Only a vest!?" the lavender unicorn pony at the decorated counter exclaimed, exasperated. Falcon Wing narrowed his eyes at them, annoyed at the display which drew the eyes of other patrons. Alana maintained a pleasant smile. "Yes sir, mister Scissor Snip!" she said amiably despite the shop keeper's overly dramatic outcry. Scissor Snip shook his head and tutted at her. "My dear, you obviously have heard of my great talent, I could do much more than just repair a bit of torn clothing!" As if to demonstrate, without even a hint of focusing his magic, Scissor Snip's horn glowed pink and the vest laid out before him came to life, frayed strands of leather extending and weaving together. In seconds the vest was in pristine condition. The stallion was playing with his stringy gray mustache with a fore hoof all the while, a bored expression on his face. "Neat trick," Falcon Wing retorted evenly. "how many caps will that be then?" "Do not be so hasty my little colt acquaintance!" "Little?" Falcon Wing replied quickly with a raised brow, but was ignored for the pony continued without halting. "You are a Wastelander! You will no doubt be up against a great amount of adversity even in the wake of the NCR's formation! Do you not want to be given the utmost protection available?" "I suppose --" "What are you offering?" Alana interjected. The lavender pony smiled confidently. His horn flared and in a flash of light two large wooden crates appeared, one on either side of him, suspended in a telekinetic field. They were floated down behind the counter, out of sight of the colt and mare. Falcon Wing shot Alana an uncertain look. She looked at him, grinned and then patted him on the head. "Not helping," he thought. He looked back to the unicorn. The dress maker's eyes were closed and his face was devoid of emotion, as if he had slipped into some kind of inner zen. The vest was floating over the counter, completely filled out as if it was being worn at that moment by an invisible pony.An invisible, floating pony. Plates of metal and straps of leather were floated up to the vest. Two smaller pieces of metal were molded into shape by the unicorn's magic, becoming concave and being fitted onto the shoulder area; shoulder guards. A few straps of leather were placed over them, the material bonding seamlessly with the vest and, amazingly, the fixtures became a stark black to match the vest. The same was done to the rest of the vest, a metal plate was taken apart piece by piece and the metal slices were fitted in such a way that each fragment overlapped. They were secured together by leather fastening and the entire thing was then fitted to the black tunic, forming a flexing chest piece that integrated perfectly, color and all. "It will not stop bullets," said Scissor Snip, opening his pearly pink eyes, "but your vest will be less likely to fall apart on you now. I give it to you for...105 caps. Seems fair, no?" Alana's expression became thoughtful -- seriously so for once -- for a few moments before nodding. "Yes, it does." The two left through the double doors, Falcon Wing's overcoat falling nicely over his armored vest, though he still looked troubled as they walked down the sidewalk. "You don't like it?" Alana asked, reading his expression. "The vest is fine; I'm more worried about our caps situation. A simple repair job would have been enough, I didn't need an upgrade," Falcon Wing replied. "You heard what Scissor Snip said though... and we aren't just going day to day wandering anymore," Alana responded, "we're looking for trouble. And knowing the Wasteland, Falcon, when you look for trouble you tend to find it very easily." "Yeah but --" "And, as I recall yourself saying, you're not much older than the victims of our Sweeper..." Alana continued, trailing off to let the red colt fill in the blanks. "...Well then. That's... unnerving" he stated, struck hard by the implication. "When you are trying to hunt the hunter, you have to be prepared for the possibility that you may be the one hunted. To make things worse... after they get wind of you... the Shadow Sweep might think you're their competition." "What? That's insane. How would a foal killer think I am compe --" Falcon Wing said in disbelief, to which Alana replied, "Because -- again -- as you said, you both are really good at sneaking around. Sweepy might be inclined to see which one of you is better." And that was when the dread crept up on him. "You think... I could become their rival? Their nemesis...?" City Hall was a white, monolithic structure with a domed roof, a statue of the nightly alicorn, Luna, on top. The once-ruler of Equestria was caught in sculpture reared up, wings fully extended. Her visage was especially striking against the sun which shone down from behind. Falcon Wing found her ominous to look at, a dark, shadowy specter in an otherwise bright and hopeful place. It was especially jarring for him as he had read about Luna, about Nightmare Moon, the redeemed princess and eventual leader of Equestria she was. She was not an omen of misfortune, in spite of her appearances. And besides, the red colt did not need hexes and superstitions to find more than his fair share of bad luck. He was perfectly able without them. And that fact did little to fight back his growing trepidation. The Shadow Sweep to him had been a vile thing kept at a comfortable distance from himself on the basis of obscurity, that he was just a little colt in a very large city. But Alana's words destroyed that conception entirely. It was disturbing enough to think a serial killer could establish a personal connection with him around the fact they were both patrons of the darkness. It was completely horrifying to think it was well in the realm of possibility. Other ponies may have delved into the art of stealth... but most ponies did not have an enchanted cloak that could beat an E.F.S... He steeled himself. He could not back down down. How could he? Disregarding the amount of caps spent on the endeavor already, wasn't this his special talent? Wasn't being righteous and decent what earned him the shield and wings that made up his cutie mark? What kind of pony would he be to abandon the cause because he scared himself out of it? His troubled gaze hardened and he looked over to his side, at Alana. She looked uneasy as well, but upon catching the look in his eyes, she followed suit, readying herself. "Right then. This is happening," he thought as he started up the stairs leading up the massive building where he would formally challenge the Shadow Sweep... and overtake them. At least, that was his intention.