//------------------------------//
// Ch 10: Steel Toes at the Ritz 
// Story: Our girl Scootaloo 1 of 3 
// by Cozy Mark IV 
//------------------------------//


Our Girl Scootaloo


by Cozy Mark IV


Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release


Chapter Ten: Steel Toes at the Ritz

It was late spring when Scootaloo took Conner up on his offer and contacted the ambulance corps as a volunteer. There had been a lot of forms and waivers to fill out, but soon enough the evening came where she was to ride along and see what an EMT did.

She showed up after dinner to ride with the night shift and was greeted at the door by Linda. "Nice to meet you Scootaloo, I'm the volunteer manager and you'll be riding in my ambulance tonight. I must say I was pleasantly surprised at some of the answers you gave on the application; I've learned not to expect much when a celebrity comes calling."

"You think I'm a celebrity?"

Lina laughed. "You don't? Well, we will soon see. The mark of a celebrity, at least the one's I've seen, is they show up once or twice, find this can be difficult, dirty, stressful work and then we never hear from them again. Wanting to make the world a better place sounds great until the first time you have to see a broken bone that has ripped though the back of somebody's leg."

Linda seemed to be watching Scootaloo closely as she said that, but she didn't flinch. "I've been studying biology for a while now, and I've done a few dissections. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could handle it."

Linda watched a moment more, then smiled. "We'll see. Goodness knows we could use the help some nights. Come on, I'll show you our ride." She finished, gesturing to the box truck style ambulance that took up most of the small building.

They went through proper use of the most common tools, then on to the different on-board systems the ambulance carried. Mid way through an explanation of the oxygen system the radio crackled to life with a call, and within moments the rest of the crew poured out of the brake room, the doors slammed and they were underway.

Linda pushed Scootaloo into the corner seat then quickly took her own and buckled in, motioning for her to do the same. Scootaloo's heart was soon pounding as they sped along, pulling G's though turns, sirens blaring all the while.

"What was that call? I couldn't make it out."

"We were told we have a child who fell from a tree on the west side of town. Dispatch said he's awake and told the parents not to move him until we get there."

They soon pulled up the house and everyone piled out of the back, two of them carrying the stretcher between them around to the back of the house where a boy, probably about ten years old, was laying on the ground in the deepening twilight. Scootaloo took one look at his arm and winced –it sure wasn't supposed to bend that way.

She stood by watching as the EMT's carefully lifted him onto the stretcher and began running though the questions about what year it was, and who the president was. Unfortunately they weren't getting very coherent responses, because when the little guy wasn't groaning, he was asking if his kitty was going to be okay.

Following the pointed finger on his good arm, Scootaloo looked up into the tree he had fallen out of, and way up there, at least 80 feet off the ground and just visible in the gathering darkness, was a fluffy orange cat clinging to a branch.

"You have to save her! She's all alone up there!"

Linda stepped over and followed her glance upward, then whistled with respect. "The kid is lucky he wasn't a very good climber. If he had gotten closer we would have a lot worse than a broken arm to deal with."

Scootaloo glanced at the boy who was still squirming and pointing to his pet. "What are we going to do?"

"We'll just let the fire department know, they should be able to sort it out."

Scootaloo thought of her (admittedly hot,) new boyfriend Conner getting the call to come fetch a cat out of a tree and smirked. "I don't think that will be necessary." She spread her wings and lifted off, soon coming level with the distressed feline who didn't look at all happy to see a big orange pony reaching for him out of the darkness. There was a flurry of claws, teeth, and a lot of yowling as Scootaloo tried to coach, then lift, then drag, and finally pry the cat out of the tree with both arms as he made his catly rage very clear.

"Come on you little fur ball!"

She pulled and yanked, and as the cat traded his grip on the tree for a grip on her arms, she felt her left hand go numb. She looked over to see the fluffy orange cat biting her left hand for all he was worth.

"Oh come on! Now I have to install another sensor panel and those things take like an hour!"

She carefully settled back onto the ground in front of Linda who had observed the proceedings with amusement, and gestured at the cat, then put a hand on her throat.

"I should, but he's just a cat and doesn't kno-" She looked down at the cat who seemed to be turning blue and was flailing at her left hand which had clamped around his neck. "Oops! Sorry, kitty!" She released her hand a bit and the cat panted for breath as he eyed her warily. "What? You broke my hand! I can't feel how hard I'm gripping something without that."

"You realize you're having a conversion with a cat right?" Linda interjected with a smile.

"But... I..." She shook her head. "I'll just show him his pet is okay."

In the back of the ambulance there was a heartfelt reunion between boy and cat, and he calmed down almost immediately. After a moment, his dad took the cat back to the house and his mother got in with the rest of the crew for the ride to the hospital.

After dropping them off, most of the EMT's returned with coffee and they set out on the road again, this time in search of dinner.

"You did good back there, I got to admit I didn't see that coming."

"Well thanks, but it was no big deal. I guess most of your volunteers can't fly." They both smiled. "But is that really what an average call is like? A broken arm? Pulling a cat out of a tree? I thought that was like a 1950's comic-book cliché?"

"In this line of work we see it all. I've seen kids and adults get hurt falling off of trees, houses, tractors, telephone poles, out of windows, you name it."

Another EMT chimed in: "Yeah, remember that guy that fell though the rotted outhouse floor?" The second EMT and Linda both winced at the memory.

"Was he okay?" Scootaloo asked.

"More or less. That's the only time I've ever had to hose off a patient before taking them to the hospital, but the poor guy had chemical burns all over his body from swimming in... Yeah. That was nasty."

The driver opened the window separating the cab from the back of the vehicle "Okay, where does everybody want to eat?"

"Jesus, Jim, you have a hell of a sense of timing."

Scootaloo's stomach growled. "Could Burger King be an option? They have a great vegetarian burger."

"Ah, fine dining." Jim responded. "That okay with you, boss?"

Linda agreed, and the vehicle meandered though traffic to the nearest Burger King, while the EMTs related stories of past calls, good and bad. With the partition window to the cab open, the occasional blasts of noise from the police scanner could be heard, making Scootaloo wonder how they knew which calls meant what, and which medical calls this team was responsible for.

They soon found a Burger King, and to her surprise, Jim ordered a vegetarian burger for himself along with the normal fare. She asked him about it as they pulled up to the drive though window to pay; "Huh? Oh, I didn't know they even offered a vegetarian burger until you said something. Its been years since I had one and I'm curious." He shrugged.

The teller had just given back his credit card and told them to pick up their order at the next window when the radio crackled to life again and in the same calm voice announced a code two four six, followed by an address. All conversation stopped as Jim pulled away from the drive-though, hit the sirens and roared into traffic, all thought of lunch forgotten.

Scootaloo looked from face to face as the team checked gear and prepped the blood plasma for use. "Um... Whats happening? Whats a two four six?"

Linda glanced at her and continued getting ready. "Its a time when we hope somebody's aim is as poor as their judgment. You stay here for this one, and keep out of the way."

They soon squealed to a halt outside an average looking home on a suburban street where two police cars were already waiting with their lights on. All three piled out with the stretcher and raced into the house. In what couldn't have been more than two minutes they were back with someone on the stretcher. With a start, Scootaloo saw it was a teenage girl who wouldn't have been out of place at her old middle school. She looked like she was dressed up for a date; a nice dress, hair tied back... except now she had a big red stain on the front of her blue blouse and was crying and gasping for breath. As soon as the doors were closed the ambulance began its race back to the hospital as Linda and her team cut away the girls top. There was a bloody hole on her right side just below her breast where it looked like someone had driven an inch wide drill bit to her flesh.

Scootaloo's mouth hung open as Linda poured some kind of clotting powder into the wound and the other EMT's started plasma, connected the heart monitor and fitted the girl with an oxygen mask. A rapid beep started as the heart rate monitor kicked on.

She seemed to be trying to ask a question, but couldn't stop coughing, and suddenly the translucent green oxygen mask was stained red from the inside.

"Intubate, now!" Linda barked.

Scootaloo flinched as one of the EMTs shoved a horrible-looking steel tool into the girl's mouth and was soon feeding a tube down her throat and connecting it to the oxygen supply. The team packed bags of ice around her as the ambulance took another sharp turn, and her head went limp and her features blank as she lost consciousness.

The girls body coughed involuntarily and shuttered as the blood pressure warning went off lending its high pitched beep the controlled chaos.

"Start another IV!"

Her body continued to cough and shutter for breath even after she lost consciousness, but she was obviously getting weaker. As Scootaloo watched the girls body went limp and the heartrate monitor gave began a long sustained note.

Without a word, Linda gestured to the other EMT to take the intubation tube while she started CPR. On the fourth or fifth round of chest compressions there was a sickening crack as one of her ribs gave way, but only Scootaloo seemed startled by this. They kept it up for another minute to the steady 'beeeeeep' of the heart-rate monitor until the ambulance slid to a stop at the emergency room. The doors were flung open and the team heaved the girl out of the ambulance and raced her into the building where the staff were waiting to take her to surgery.

Scootaloo just sat there in the corner of the ambulance in stunned silence. The lights were still on and though the open back doors she could see them sweeping against the hospital building, but after all the rush and noise, it was eerily quiet. She slowly unbuckled her seat belt and trotted out, trying not to step in the blood that had dripped on the floor.

It couldn't have been more than two minutes since the team had entered the hospital, but it already looked perfectly normal again, like nothing had ever happened. A nurse directed her to the ER staff room where she found Linda washing her hands and arms. She stood watching for some time before Linda finished, turned and saw her.

"Is... Is she dead?"

Linda sighed as she toweled off. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" This unsettled Scootaloo more than the answer she expected. "Maybe?! How can she be sort of alive?"

Linda seemed to really see Scootaloo for the first time, not as a veteran used to this, but as a scared tenth grade girl who was trying to hold it together, but was out of her depth.

She gestured to one of the seats in the big ER waiting room just though the door and they both took a seat.

"You really want to know how this works?"

Scootaloo shook her head angrily. "Yes, I wanted to be here to get a feel for what it was like; being a doctor or a nurse. Its... hard, but I have to know whats happening."

Linda considered her answer before speaking. "This job can take a lot out of you if you don't separate yourself from some of what you see. One way to do it is to know the mechanics well, and maybe that will help you as well."

"You asked how she could be 'sort of' alive. Scootaloo, tell me where you are. What organ is the entity called Scootaloo with whom I am talking?"

"You're saying that I am my brain. Its true, the brain is who we are, all the rest can be removed or replaced," she tapped her arm against the chair "but we are our brains."

"Good, I don't have to explain that any more. When that poor girl was shot, it disrupted her life support system. It tore into her lung, interfering with her ability to put oxygen in her blood, and it ruptured all kinds of blood vessels leading to a rapid fall off in blood pressure -she was losing blood faster than we could put it back into her. As her blood oxygen level fell along with her blood pressure, she went into shock and lost consciousness. Eventually, without enough blood to pump, her heart shut down. All though this we were trying to keep oxygenated blood flowing to her brain, to her, but we can't just jack in an external life support system and disconnect her own."

Scootaloo interjected "But you can! I saw a video where a Russian doctor did just that to a dog in the 1950's or 60's. The dogs head could live hooked up to the machines, we have video of it."

Behind them a middle aged man and woman came racing in and gestured frantically at the receptionist at the desk. She gestured to the waiting room and after some kind of back and forth, the couple sat down to wait. The man put his arm around the woman, but she angrily shrugged it off and he reluctantly sat alone.

"You know more medical history then I thought," Linda added, glad that the technical conversation seemed to be distracting Scootaloo from what she had just seen. "But you probably also realize that trying to connect such a device in the field would be impossibly hard, and that even if you could, a glorified heart lung machine like that can only keep someone alive for a limited time.

"We couldn't replace her body, but we could attempt to pump the blood for her with CPR, and we used ice to cool her body and brain to slow the oxygen starvation. When the life support system is damaged that badly the brain will die without help, but it takes time, usually several minutes to go from 'alive' though the levels of increasing brain damage to 'dead'. If we're lucky the surgeons were able to put her life support system back together enough before she died completely. That's what I meant by 'maybe'."

Scootaloo swallowed hard as she stared across the room at the couple who had to be the girls parents. "You think she still has a chance?"

"As long as she was out? She'll almost certainly have some brain damage if she lives -some of who she was will have died in that ambulance. But even cooling will only buy so much time; if the surgeons weren't able to repair the damage by now, then its too late. Even if they got her heart working again right now, her brain would be dead and there would be no one left to save."

Linda got up to leave but Scootaloo reached out and took her hand, her eyes pleading. "Could... Could we wait just a little longer?"

"Well..." She looked at the couple, then back to Scootaloo. "At least until the next call comes in."

The minutes ticked slowly by as they waited with the mother and father across the room. After almost five minutes a doctor entered the room and spoke with the receptionist who pointed at the couple. He walked over as both parents stood to hear the news.

Scootaloo couldn't hear what he said, but she didn't need to. The girls mother collapsed onto the floor wailing while the girls father sat down and put his head in his hands sobbing openly. After a moment the girls father tried to take her mothers hand, but she lashed out and clawed at his face, her wails of grief flashing to rage. "I HATE YOU! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

Linda put a hand on Scootaloo's shoulder. "Come on, we'd better go."

The mothers sobbing gradually faded as they left the ER behind and walked back to the waiting ambulance. Scootaloo sniffed and tried to dry her eyes as she asked; "Is this what every night is like?"

Linda put an arm around her and they sat in the open doors of the ambulance. "No sweetie, this was a bad night. If I had known, I never would have brought you, but things like this do happen. I just wish you hadn't seen it on your very first night."

Scootaloo watched as the distraught father stumbled out the doors of the hospital, his face streaked with tears and blood from the claw marks on his face. She sniffed again, trying to hold herself together. "But why did her mother attack her father like that?"

For the first time since they had met, Linda's face registered shock. "You didn't know?"

Scootaloo shook her head.

"He mistook her for a prowler when she came home from a date."

A look of horror grew on Scootaloo's face. "You mean?... He killed his own daughter?!"

Linda nodded. "I know, these are really sad, but we only get one every few months. With enough ambulances, each one of us only sees one of these every couple years."

"Wait, this happens regularly?!"

"Well yes. This is why I don't keep guns in my house. A single mistake is far too... permanent. There are lots of ways to stay safe; bats, tazzers, knives, mace, but some people just love their guns, can't use them responsibly and all too often we get to clean up their mess."

Scootaloo was staring off into space, mouth half open as she tried to process everything.

"Look, its been a rough night, how about I take you home."

...

Kevin and I had waited up for her, but we hadn't expected her back so soon. She had a lot to talk about, and we all finished off a box of Kleenex before the night was over.

Scootaloo had already led a full and interesting life, but she had never experienced death in such a graphic, personal way and it scared her. That girl could have been one of her friends from the squad, it could have been her, and the best medical care available hadn't been enough to save her. No matter what anyone said or did, her parents would never see their daughter again all because of one mistake...

Despite it all, she was determined to keep going, and though we asked her to be careful, she insisted that it was something she had to do.

We stayed up talking well past midnight, and though she had been going to bed on her own for a long while by now, that night, we tucked her in and kissed her goodnight just like when she was little.

After the evening with Linda, Scootaloo was looking for a distraction to take her mind off everything that had happened, and as the school year wound down the last real work was finished up in most classes, the high school prom fit the bill. Everyone important was going to be there, or would at least be stopping by on their way to another party where the booze flowed more freely.

We knew our daughter was no exception, and as her academic load tapered off, she had been spending the evenings with Christina, Conner and Kevin working on dress designs and sketching out concepts for each of them.

While a tenth grade girl would not normally get to attend the prom, Conner was still a grade ahead and had kindly volunteered to take our little girl, and we were only too happy to see her having a good time. Neither of them told us they were dating, and Kevin and I just assumed he was another of Scootaloo's friends.

After much debate over the serious issues involved, both girls eventually decided on dresses, and the sewing machine was soon humming as the garments began to take shape. It was a bit odd to see Christina holding parts of a dress with two hands, while our daughter fed the machine with two more plus two of her automotive arms from the tool chest in the garage. Having two arms and two metal tentacles with pincers did make the work go faster, but it still looked odd.

Christina was glad to be spending time with her friends, but she still looked sad as she watched Conner and Scootaloo working together.

Scootaloo noticed and spoke up. "Don't look so down Christie, we couldn't have done this without you. I've made some of my own clothing, but I don't have your natural talent for this." She smiled as she looked at her own dress taking shape on the table. "The dresses are coming out fine, and in yours you'll be fending them off with a stick."

She smiled weakly. "Yeah, with a stick..."

"Oh, don't tell me you still haven't found a date for the prom? I know you would need an older guy, but you're on the squad like me and even I've had to turn down a few offers!"

"I guess... I just haven't found the right person yet."

Conner looked up from the table where he was pinning some of the delicate parts together. "If you need a date that badly I know a guy who might oblige. Have you ever met Curt?"

"You mean Curt from the skate park? I don't know..."

Scootaloo looked from one to the other. "Who is Curt? I don't think I've met him."

"Oh I guarantee you've seen him even if you haven't met. Tall, lanky guy, lots of facial piercings, wears a lot of black? He used to skate board at school until they built the skate park downtown."

As they both gave him skeptical looks he put a hand up. "Hey, don't judge the guy by appearance alone. He's a good person, and he helped me out of a jam a few years back... He also cleans up nicely -you should see him in a suit." He added with a wistful look.

Scootaloo didn't notice as she had gone back to her sewing, but Christina gave him a raised eyebrow before conceding with a sigh. "Well I do need someone to go with. You think he would take me?"

Conner smirked "Well, he doesn't normally do formal events, but if you ask nicely he might be persuaded... I wouldn't wait though, I don't know how much longer he'll be without a date."

There were a few moments of thoughtful silence before Conner asked. "By the way Scoot, I know you learned some impressive gymnastics from the squad, but has anyone ever taught you how to dance?"

Christina blushed and looked intently at her work as Scootaloo answered. "Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. The football coach knows a surprising amount about dance and he's been teaching a bunch of the girls on the squad; Chrissy and I have been practicing for weeks now."

"But how do you...? I mean I've seen you carry three cheerleaders at once, but you're only three foot eight and -"

"Hey! I am four foot two and don't you forget it mister!"

Christina was still blushing, but she walked over and took Scootaloo by the hand, pulling her up from the sewing machine. She teetered on her back legs for a moment, then Christina grabbed her front hooves and held one on her hip while the other rested on her shoulder. Scootaloo's arms flailed a bit and with a resigned sigh she tapped her back legs together three times, folding her arms away on her back. They managed a few short steps before Christina was winded and had to put her down.

"Not bad, not bad at all. But doesn't that pose hurt?" Conner asked.

"Oh, a cheerleader learns to put up with a lot, but I have it pretty easy compared to... Why don't you let me show you."

Conner helped her up and took her by the hooves as they moved though a few steps. "Oof! Wow, no offense, but can't you support more of your own weight?"

"That's... not a good idea. I have to lean into my partner or I could fall over backward. My body just isn't built for this. I'm... I'm sorry I'm so heavy..."

Conner smiled at her as he looked into her eyes on the level for the first time while not seated. "You're not heavy, I just wasn't expecting it. I've never danced with anyone quite like you dear."

Scootaloo blushed and they continued the dance as she showed him what she could do. The basic steps were easy, but the more complicated ones almost always put more strain on her partner, so after showing off briefly they focused on training Conner in the basics.

Christina started as she remembered something. "Oh! And you'll want to buy new shoes!"

"Why would I...?"

Scootaloo blushed again and looked down. "I'm sorry, but... my hooves aren't as big as your feet, and I already outweigh you..."

"Yeah, we should get you to the shoe store tomorrow, they have a good deal on men's steel toe dress shoes. Poor coach nearly broke his foot before we figured that out."

...

The night of Prom Kevin was helping Scootaloo with her makeup when the conversation turned to her date.

"It was so nice of Conner to offer to take you to prom this year, I should help you bake him something as a thank you."

Scootaloo laughed so hard she almost choked, before finally managing. "Um, Papa? I don't think baked goods would be the most appropriate 'thank you' in this case."

Kevin looked confused. "But he's going out of his way to help you get in and enjoy the Prom. Just because he didn't have a date this year doesn't mean you should take him for granted."

"Um... Papa, I thought that was clear. Conner and I have been dating for weeks now; I am his date for the prom."

A look of confusion clouded his face. "But he... You..." He shook his head to clear it. "Scootaloo, I don't think you two dating is a good idea. Jayne and I though you were just friends."

"What? Why would you say something like that?" Scootaloo asked defensively.

"I just don't think you two would make a good match. You really shouldn't be dating him, it will only end in heartbreak for you, and I don't want to see that happen."

Scootaloo bristled visibly at this. "And you don't think I can tell a good boy from a bad one? Conner is a good person. He would never hurt me, and I'm surprised at you for judging him like that!"

Any further argument was cut off as a car pulled up to the front of the house and blew its horn. With a hard glance back, Scootaloo grabbed her purse and trotted down the stares in a huff. Jayne heard the door slam and the car pull away as Kevin walked unsteadily down the stares and met his gaze across the room.

"Kevin, what's wrong?"

"Conner isn't just getting Scootaloo into the prom. The two of them are dating."

A look of concern crossed Jayne's features. "Oh... Did you try to tell her?"

"Yes. You must have heard the door slam on her way out."

Jayne grimaced. "She took it that badly?"

Kevin nodded, and Jayne sighed. "Well, I suppose she has to figure this out on her own. It won't be fun, but Conner strikes me as a good guy. He'll let her down gently... eventually."

…

This year the prom was held in the main ballroom of a large hotel, and the banners and decorations seemed almost out of place among the marble columns and opulent settings of the room. They soon found Christina and Curt talking with a group of friends, and after introductions were made they dug into the buffet.

While everyone ate, Curt's skater friends started passing cell phones videos of various tricks and epic flops. "Check this one out: flip, spin the board, then – Ooh!"

"That did look pretty awesome, right up till the end. Did you break anything? I mean that looked painful." Scootaloo added.

"It wasn't that bad. Sometimes it takes a few spills to master a new trick."

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you about that." Curt interrupted. "Not to be rude, but on the show you're pretty fly on a scooter. I know that's not you anymore, but, I don't know, have you ever tried skating? You sure have the gymnastics skills for it."

This did happen from time to time, somebody would see the show and assume she was the same little filly, with all the same wants, skills and fears. She usually laughed them off, but Curt wasn't being rude, and if she really admitted it, it did look pretty cool. "No, I've never tried it. When I was really little I didn't get to play outside in the road, and since then I've had other things to worry about." She paused in thought for a moment. "I might like to give it a try if you're offering though."

Conner smiled. "How about that Curt? Looks like you might have a new convert."

"Yeah, we could always use another girl to keep these guys in line." Said a girl with florescent green hair that matched her outfit surprisingly well. "You can usually find us at the skate park in town after school."

"Cool, I'll try to catch up with you there sometime next week." Scootaloo said as she pulled her date away. "Come on Conner, lets hit the dance floor!"

After a quick glance to confirm that Conner had worn his steel toe dress shoes, Scootaloo was able to relax a little and really show off her skills born of many weeks practice. The two of them were by no means the best dancers on the floor, but Scootaloo managed to hold her own quite well despite being a quadruped by nature.

After a few songs they took a break to catch their breath. As a faster song played, Scootaloo watched in amusement as one couple ground their hips together in a display that would make a pole dancer blush, until they were run off by one of the chaperones.

"Wow! Did you see that? Talk about something they'll regret in the morning." Scootaloo said pointing to all the other students who had taken video with their phones and were already posting it online.

"What do you expect from a bunch of horny teenagers?" Conner asked with a shrug.

Scootaloo stood up on her back legs again, and Conner steadied her as she leaned forward. "I expect them to get a room." She leaned in and kissed Conner with more than a little passion. "Just as I hope to latter." She finished with a sly smile.

Conner looked a bit shocked at this sudden advance, but pulled himself together quickly. "Are you sure that's what you want?" He replied in a serious tone.

Kevin's words still stung in her ears as she whispered. "Yes, I do want this. I've burned though enough double A's to power a car over the years, and I'm ready now. I know what I like, and if you're willing, then I can finally say I know who I like as well."

Conner smiled at her and gently returned her kiss, but his response was cut off.

"Hey gay wad, what the hell are you doing here?"

They both turned to see three juniors of moderate build in poorly fitted rental tuxedos leering at them. Conner helped Scootaloo down and did his best to stare them down.

"Easy Robert, I'm not looking for any trouble here."

"Shut up faggot, this is our dance and you aren't welcome here."

"Yeah, clear out you gay fuck, we didn't give you permission to show your face around here."

It was obvious these guys knew Conner, and Scootaloo could see him beginning to wilt under the verbal assault. A few people watched to see how this played out, but no one stepped in to help, and that, after all the other stresses of this night made Scootaloo's chest burn. She glanced over the drinks table and grabbed an aluminum can of grape soda.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced." She said walking over and staring up at the leader who stood at least two feet above her. "I'm am trying to enjoy this dance with my date, and you rednecks aren't helping. Why don't you go find somebody smaller and weaker to pick on."

The group laughed and 'Robert' leaned down into her face. "Hey, what are you doing hanging around this guy anyhow? You should come with us so we can show you a real party."

In a flash that was almost to quick to follow, Scootaloo brought the can of soda up over his head and did something she almost never did. She squeezed as hard as she could. Her right hand contacted on the unopened can, and it imploded in a spray of sticky purple soda, completely soaking Robert and spraying the other two bullies and herself.

Robert backed up sputtering. "You fucking bitch! This is a rented tux!"

Scootaloo completely ignored his rage and calmly regarded the crushed can in her hand. "That's one of the draw backs to prosthetics. Sometimes I just lose track of how hard I'm squeezing." She looked meaningfully at his crotch and the can in her hand gave up its last drops of soda as she changed her grip and flattened it into a biscuit without even looking.

All three of them started backing away, all the while keeping a close eye on Scootaloo's hands. "This isn't over gay fuck. We'll be waiting for you outside."

When they had gone Scootaloo's expression softened and she let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Conner still looked shaken and she took his hand. "Conner, are you okay? Do you know those guys?"

Conner angrily wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "You remember the 'jam' that Curt helped me out of a few years back? It involved some of them and a baseball bat."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "Oh my God! You only talked about it like he helped you with a school project or something; what happened?!"

Conner led her away from the crowds to a quiet corner before continuing. "Guys like them are part of any kids life, but some of us have it worse than others. They had been threatening me at school and generally making my life hell for a long time when I ran into them in the park down town." He shuttered at the memory. "Its okay, the bones and bruises healed up in a few months, but that's because Curt and some of his friends happened by and stopped them before they got too far. That little scar under Robert's hairline? It matches the metal lip of one of Curt's skateboards."

"But that's insane! Why didn't you tell anyone?!"

"I did, and a lot of good it did me. My parents didn't want to listen, they just said boys will be boys and that I had to settle my own problems. The school said it happened off their property and they couldn't do anything about it. Curt's had some experience with the local cops, and he didn't want to get booked on assault charges. Said they wouldn't care about details, just that the other kids parents new some of the cops, and that it was better not to make a deal of it."

He sighed resignedly. "And now I have to think of how we're going to make it out of here without another fight."

A new voice spoke up from behind them. "Actually, no, you don't have to worry about that."

They both whirled around to see the high school principal, Ms. Baker standing behind them with a kind smile. "After what we found on them I don't think you need to worry about seeing two of those three at our school ever again. One of the other students got the whole exchange on video. I'm Sorry about your dress Ms. Scootaloo, seems they just don't make cans like they used to."

They both stared at her for a moment before Scootaloo managed; "Thank you Ms. Baker! I didn't realize you were looking out for us like that."

She laughed. "Well I would hope not. Its not your job to protect yourselves from violence –this is a school not a prison." She smiled sadly. "I suppose this will also be my last opportunity to say its been a pleasure being your principal. I hope you both go on to do great things."

"Oh, no I'm only a sophomore. You still have two more years to put up with me." Scootaloo corrected.

"I wish that were true, but I've accepted another job out of state in a different school, so regardless of grade, I'm afraid this really is it. Don't worry though, they already chose my replacement -a Pastor Gray if I remember right."

"Oh, well I'm sorry we didn't have the chance to get to know each other better." Scootaloo added. "Thank you again for your help."

"Not a problem. Now I'll leave you two to get back to where you were before you were so rudely interrupted." She added with a grin as she turned and walked off.

Conner and Scootaloo looked at each other. "Did she just...?"

"Yes, I think she did."

After a moment Scootaloo smiled. "Who are we to turn down such good advice? Come on Conner, after all that soda, this dress is badly in need of washing and so am I."

"But where will we...? The hotel is not likely to rent rooms to prom guests."

She stood up and kissed him again, enjoying the feeling of him holding her up. "Yes, and as a result, the upper-class girls have all but started their own travel and reservation company. Come on, I know a place that's not too far."

...

Due to prom and the upcoming graduation we had to move her monthly medical exam around so everything fit, but when she did make it in Stephanie had news and a request, but first, she had a friend to introduce.

"Jayne, Kevin, Scootaloo, I would like to introduce you to a mentor of mine, Dr. Gregerson." She said of the woman who had to be in her late 70's and wore a doctors lab coat and stethoscope. We all shook hands as she continued. "Dr Gregerson is a good friend of mine, and she and her husband head up the team that's been working to understand your synthetic biology."

Dr Gregerson took over. "We just finished analyzing your brain MRI data from the last few months, and it helped us put together several pieces of the puzzle we hadn't been able to make sense of before. We know you have synthetic cells that help hold your biology together and act as a patch enabling changes to be made, but we didn't know how. We knew you had some kind of modified metabolism, but we didn't understand how it worked. We -"

Scootaloo spoke up. "Modified metabolism? But that means I should be thin right?" She shuffled self-consciously and stared at the floor "I know I shouldn't worry about this, but I weigh almost 300 lbs! If I have a fast metabolism, shouldn't I be able to burn off weight faster?"

Stephanie smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Scootaloo, you're not fat; 300 lbs is lightweight for most ponies. And as to your metabolism, fast doesn't begin to describe it. Your body fat ratio has always held at a healthy level, the question we were asking is how you are able to generate such a huge energy output in the first place. Even with your very efficiently EMFR wing drive to lift you, you still need energy to climb, and climbing up a ten story building takes about the same minimum amount of energy whether you fly or take the stairs. You can climb at a rate that would put Olympic athletes to shame and when we figured out how you store and release energy for these bursts of flight we discovered your... batteries for lack of a better term."

"You mean a biological battery?"

"Exactly. And when Dr Gregerson's research team dug into the design, they didn't just find battery technology, they found a way to reprogram your synthetic biology!"

"Reprogram me? Why would you want to do that Dr Gregerson?" Scootaloo asked.

"Call me Betty" Dr Gregerson smiled. "And not you personally. We were able to reset the DNA the synthetic cells perceived as their own, and were able to grow your synthetic cells first in petri dishes, and then in mice and chimps. We started human trials recently and the results are impressive; your synthetic biology has a lot of internal programming of its own, and we are finding that it is pre-programmed to recognize and fix a lot of different problems. Haven't you wondered why you've never been seriously ill? You have what amounts to a synthetic immune system, or at least a heavily augmented one. I wouldn't be surprised if the culture you come from has much less disease, all without conventional medical care."

"But I have been sick, I get colds from time to time, and even the flu that once."

Dr Gregerson, Betty, frowned. "That's true, your programming doesn't protect you from everything, but in humans, its looking like it prevents some 20 to 60% of illnesses, though unfortunately, many of the really lethal ones like Dengue Fever aren't affected. Our best guess is that by the time this code was written, a lot of the really nasty bugs had been exterminated, and hence your synthetic biology doesn't recognize them."

Our daughter thought this over with a smile. "This is going to be a new line of defense against illness isn't it? Your work is going to save thousands of lives."

Dr Gregerson smiled. "Oh no, this will be well into the millions, and quickly too. You see, one of the things we figured out was how to set metabolic speed. This injection of customized synthetic cells allows the patient to choose their weight by choosing how fast they burn calories! The process to configure the cells to a new user is still expensive, but once in place? No more obesity, vastly less heart disease, lower blood pressure, reduced incidence of diabetes: All the big killers in western culture will be reined in by what our team discovered."

"That's great! I'm so glad that I could help make this possible."

Mary had been hanging back during this discussion, but now she stepped forward grinning from ear to ear. "There was one major side effect though, and when people figure it out there will be hell to pay... But it will be so worth it!"

Everyone looked at her expectantly.

"It looks like Scootaloo's aversion to meat products was programmed into her synthetic biology."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, anyone who uses your synthetic cells to live a happy, healthy life will find that all meat products suddenly taste awful to the point of being inedible."

"Sounds like karma to me." Jayne added.

"Its okay," Scootaloo laughed "I know a certain Girl Scout who has a great veggie burger recipe."

Stephanie chuckled as well. "While the fallout from this should be amusing to watch, this is all leading up to a request. The Doctors Gregerson, Mary, and a number of other scientists think we have underestimated how adaptable your body might be. We want to run an experiment, with your approval, and if it works, it will help you and a lot of other people with disabilities."

Scootaloo looked a bit concerned. "What do you have in mind?"

"Remember how your body built clusters of nerves around the places where your prosthetic sensor 'hat' picks up the signals used to control your arms?" Dr. Gregerson asked. "We think there could be a lot more to it than that, and with the new ability to give other patients your synthetic cells, if we can get your body to adapt to your arms, then we could conceivably use the same methods to restore sight to the blind, or motor function to patients with spinal cord injury."

"I don't understand. Mary; you helped fit my arms, how could I be more 'adapted' to them?"

"Well, right now your saddle bag has electrode panels pressed against your sides to give force feedback so you can pick up a tomato without squeezing it to pulp. With the current system, the resolution we can deliver is limited by your skin and so is the area -we can't wrap your whole body in electrodes. We have designed an implantable device -" She produced a small jewelry sized box with a clear lid and handed it to Scootaloo "that should allow much better feedback. With this you should be able to feel very fine detail, like the texture on the front of a penny -if your body integrates with it as we think it might. If this works it would mean you wouldn't have a sweaty back and flank on hot days because of your prosthetic, it would cut the weight of your arms and allow you to do much more delicate tasks then you can today. You may not think about it, but most people can reach into a box and pick out an object by touch alone, and if you've ever worked on a car, I don't have to tell you how useful that could be. There are lots of other things we could use this for, but it has to work first, and quite frankly, this is an experiment that will benefit others more than you."

Kevin stepped in a bit defensively "Mary, our daughter has already saved millions of people from cancer by her participation. Now you want to implant something in her body? At what point has she given enough?"

Stephanie answered; "This is completely voluntary. If you don't want to do this, then we don't do it, but it isn't some hair-brained idea ether. You know we can already build robot arms faster, stronger, and more precise than any human arm because you use them every day. You haven't needed eyes before, but those who do aren't so lucky. We can build cameras that are far better than the human eye, but that is useless to a blind patient because we haven't been able to get biological parts to talk to electrical devices. You know that a electrode-on-skin contact pad can only send so much information, and for vision it just isn't enough."

Dr. Gregerson stepped in. "If you are willing to help with this, we will use local anesthetic to numb you, then insert this tiny radio controlled device on the underside of a rib. If this works, we expect your body to build up nerves around the device over a few weeks to receive the signals, and we don't know if we want that kind of nerve cluster exposed close to the skin surface."

Scootaloo was looking thoughtfully into the clear top case at the dime size wafer inside. "That doesn't sound so bad, you had me worried there for a moment. You just numb the area and insert the wafer right? Heck, breast implants are a much bigger deal than that, and I know a few people who want to pay money for them. You're saying this could improve the control and feel from my arms, and lead to a cure for blindness? How could I say no to that?"

Kevin crossed his arms. "I'm still not comfortable with cutting holes in you or putting things into your body."

"Papa, how many piercings do I have? You know, ears, nose, nipples?" Scootaloo ran a hoof down her belly drawing attention to the twin rows of nipples, and Kevin squirmed in his chair looking even more uncomfortable. "And how many tattoos do I have? Skull and cross bones, curse words in other languages?"

"Okay, okay! You're right, you've never gotten into any of those things. I... I just want you to be safe."

Scootaloo held his hand while Mary continued. "There is no reason to be worried here, we all care for Scootaloo too, and we would never suggest anything that would harm her. We can setup the surgery for next month and get new skins made for your hands with denser sensory nets to deliver the greater volume of information. You need to leave the saddle bag electrode pads on for now, and we hope that with the crummy low resolution signal coming through your sides as always, and with the same information being delivered in much greater detail to the implant, your body will figure this out and begin to rely on the implant over the external pads. Its the same thing that happens if you put on an eye patch over one eye for a few weeks -pretty soon your brain is relying more and more on the eye with good signal, and when you take the patch off you will notice if you focus on something, your brain reaches for the eye usually left uncovered."

"This sounds good to me, but let's not wait. You have training as a surgeon, don't you Mary? Take an hour, round up who and what you need, and lets do this."

We were all a bit startled. "Scootaloo, are you sure? We could do it tonight I guess, but we hadn't planned on it."

Scootaloo looked from Mary to Stephanie. "Guys, I'm studying biology at the college freshman level and I want to be a doctor. I'm not some ignorant kid anymore. You've got laparoscopic surgical robots here, and if I know you Mary, you've already been practicing this on the simulator haven't you?"

Mary looked a little sheepish "Well yes, I know it's a simple surgery, but I want to be at my best."

"So lets skip the waiting and the drama. I'm here, along with the surgeon, the tools and the parts. I already get how many needle sticks every month? A few numbing shots and a stitch or two are no big deal."

And so with a shrug and and some quick work by Mary, Scootaloo had her new implant less then two hours later. We said our usual goodbyes and Stephanie admonished Scootaloo to take it easy for the next week so she didn't pull her stitches.

And when Mary called the next week to check up on her progress, we all looked up from our dinner table at Scootaloo's cell phone: "We are the Borg. You will be assimilated."

Kevin grinned at her; "Really Scootaloo? You ripped the audio from the movie to use as Mary's ring-tone?"

Scootaloo looked a little embarrassed, but we all had a good laugh.