The unnecessarily long, crackling and really quite annoying buzz that signified the day's end finally sounded, a bit later than it should have according to the dusty clock on the wall. I looked over my shoulder to check the other clock - the alarm was late - and finished my load, sighing in annoyance while I heaved the chunk of rock from the ground onto the now-halted conveyor belt, leaving it there; It'd get finished tomorrow.
I yawned and stretched, giving a groan of pleasure as several satisfying cracks run from the bottom of my spine up to my neck, subtracting some of the stiffness from my aching muscles. Today had actually been relatively easy, compared to other days, but it was still hard work nonetheless.
I helped a few of my coworkers out from the gaping pit which I sat next to and slapped 'em on the back as they trotted away. I myself dawdled a bit to save myself the from the bustle of other workers that were undoubtedly flooding the hallways and locker rooms. I'd done this a hundred times, but each and every time I couldn't help but look at the large room in which I resided and explore it with my eyes.
It was a big room.
Several curved, steel supports stuck from the ground, hugged the wall, and anchored themselves in the ceiling, most of which was composed of dirty, yellow glass.
I couldn't really tell through the windows because of that filth whether or not it was a nice day., but of course, up here there's never really a "nice day," far too much smoke and stuff for that. But there were warmer and colder days, so there's that. I even saw a bird every now and then.
After I decided that I had waited long enough for the trickle of miners, smelters, masons and other industrial workers to stop, I got up off my haunches, brushed myself off, and set off toward the opening near the other side of the room.
Several feet above my head, many, many sets of catwalks criss-crossed, leading to some of the more delicate workrooms such as specimen handling and geology and so on and so forth.
Down on the ground floor, however, was where the hard work was done. Several different types of welders, TIG, MIG, Oxyacetylene, and whatnot lay scattered about, typically around half-finished projects. Toolboxes, forgotten hardhats, and empty bottles of soft drinks - no alcohol at work - also helped complete the collection of junk.
The air smelled of burnt metal, steam, gasoline, and quite a bit of sweat, but I loved it anyway; it's the scent that's filled my nostrils every day for the past two years.
I had to squint my eyes a bit as I finally reached the open double-doors that led into the brightly-lit hallway. Gah. Far too many lights in here.
I ran into a few fellow stragglers such as myself along the way and gave them each a small nod of greeting. They all returned it. Unfortunately, when I first got here, not many of my "hellos" would be returned. I guess I kinda scared the ponies who already worked there.
Ya see, I'm not an Earth Pony, a Pegasus, or a Unicorn - Luna knows not an Alicorn! - I'm actually a bit of an oddity, a, uh, "Bat-Pony."
As you may have guessed, reptilian-eyes, leathery wings, and fangs didn't do me much good when it came to gaining other workers's trust. What did that was my actual work.
Been Employee of the Month for the past year and a half. Yeppers, I'm good, helps cut down the work that the other's have to do.
Funny, since all I ever do is haul various sized chunks of ore about a foot and a quarter from the opening of Mine No. 12 and onto the conveyor belt where they get wheeled off to get smelted and chiseled or crushed, among a whole host of other horrible possibilities.
Since then, the only serious shit I get are from a few select racists - ignorant bastards - but most of the time I ignore them. They never go too far, first time they did one of 'em crawled away with a black eye and a busted leg. My handy-dandy fangs did a good number on 'is coat too. He didn't taste very good, though.
Eventually, I made it to the locker room - cramped little place - and opened up my own creaky guardian of deodorant and spare socks.
Quickly hanging up my hardhat, removing my working bridle, and unzipping my coveralls, I hucked everything inside and swung the beat-up locker door shut, making sure it was locked. Not sure why, nothin' really valuable in there.
I punched my card and left the massive facility, entering the brightness of the sun. Like I said earlier, lotsa clouds and smoke, but today the sun seemed to smile down upon us.
I scowled back. We Bat-Ponies aren't really nocturnal, as most cliches would state, but night is our natural element. I actually personally don't like the sun, even less so than most of my fellow fanged friends.
As much as I would have liked to, I didn't simply go home, get a snack, and flop onto my bed, oh no, my day was only half over. Thirty-two past four, as my watch informed me.
So I went home to one of three independent houses in the entire town. I was quite proud of it, it was rather pricey, so, rather than shabby old apartments, I got a shabby old cabin. I got to enjoy three whole rooms, dont'cha know?
The snack was easy, I always set them out before I leave in the morning, so after I ate I entered my bathroom. I'm not really a bragger, fillies and gentlecolts, but I do indeed consider myself a pretty good Bat-Pony, and I don't exclude my looks either. As comes standard with bat ponies, I have a dark mane and tail, two shades of purple, one really dark and the other just a smidge lighter. My eyes weren't amber as with most Bat-Ponies, but rather a light violet, and my entire coat was dark - pure Bat-Pony here - so that's that. My cutie mark is interesting; it consists of two cogs, one of which is an amber metal, bronze 'er somethin', the other being made of some weird pink smoke, I guess?
Rather than filthy coveralls, and rather than, well, nothing, I slipped on the, uh, kinda scant uniform for my next job - a bit drafty - drank something with lots of caffeine and headed outside.
My place was a bit secluded - classic Bat-Pony behavior - on top 'o a hill outside of the main town. I could see the massive mine/factory/lab/whatever jutting from a mountain, the mass of rusted metal and glass down below me, the town not much further off to the left. Much less a "town" and more a "village" but whatever, I called this place home.
Just as I had waited back in the mine hundreds of times before, I had my the trip from home to bar hundreds of times before, so I didn't take me long at all.
My second workplace was on the right side of the end of the main strip, kinda Appleoosian style town we got here, a large building with a sign reading "Luna's Palace" swinging outside the door.
Every time I see that sign, I can't help but scoff. Luna's Palace was far more splendid than this bar ever would be. Yes, by the way, Luna does indeed have her own palace. For some reason, lotsa ponies are pretty surprised to learn about that.
Whatever, despite the fact that the real Luna's Palace was something that this bar'd never touch, "this bar" was probably the nicest, cleanest building for miles.
It most certainly got the most business, that's for sure.
Whores, alcohol, games, attractive waiters - that's me - and the available purchase of temporary living space and of mining gear made this the hub 'o the town.
I've been griping so far, but truth be told I liked it there. Pays less than my first job, but was also really fun; I got lotsa tips 'cuz I'm "exotic" or something or other, and It's pretty fun seein' stallions get all flustered at'cha when you blow 'em a kiss and playfully bare your fangs at 'em.
Employee of the Month every month for the past while there too, if I do say so myself.
Once I had double-checked my uniform I entered the bar, preparin' myself for a busy night.Never happened. As I entered, the place was about a million and a half times more quieter and less smellier than I ever remember it ever being.
There were still lots of ponies there, but rather than laughing happily, singing songs and getting into hoof-fights, everyone inside was huddled to their own tables, quietly playing poker or whatever else struck their fancy, murmuring. It was still tumultuous, mind you, just not near as much as before.
I was also a bit confused when I didn't see any other waiters.
Hmm...what's goin' on here?
A bit disconcerted, I stepped inside all of the way and the bartender gave me a glance. That was it. No hello or nothin'. I decided to try and ignore it and weaved through the tables full of muttering stallions, eventually makin' it to the dressing room.
Ah. There they are.
I saw six other mares, all dressed in their uniforms, huddled in the corner, whispered to each other in hushed tones.
"Hey gals, what's up?"
They all turned to me, looking a bit surprised at my arrival, and one of them, Bright Flare, motioned me over.
I raised my eyebrow and trotted over the hard floor, looking at the tan-coated mare who had motioned me over in the fist place.
"Should we tell her?" another mare, Viola, asked the group. There was few words of agreement and Flare looked at me. She smiled and said, "Sorry about what's been going on, I'll show you here in a second. Come with me."
I smiled back. Someone who wasn't in some sort of trance, hooray!
She led me back out into the main room and sat me down at the bar. Again, the bartender eyed me, but didn't say anything as he dried a large mug.
"What's his problem?" I asked Flare.
"Same problem as everyone else," Flare answered.
"And what would that be?"
Flare's bright orange eyes began to twitch a bit and she got visibly more nervous.
"Come on..." I groaned, a bit louder than intended. After waiting for the attention of the bar-goers to wane, I leaned and and whined, saying "Tell meeeee."
Flare gulped and jerked her head to the right, toward a dark corner.
I followed her gesture with my eyes and gasped when I finally saw what she had been talking about.
"W...wha...is he...?"
Flare nodded, her eyes wide with seriousness.
"Is he...?"
Again, Flare nodded.
"Woah."
I looked over back at the parlor where "he" was sitting, alone.
The figure, even sitting down, was tall. I couldn't see much of his body, most of that problem stemming from the fact that he wore a long, dark, beat-up trench coat. What was visible though was pretty impressive.
Rather then grasping the mug of steaming liquid - coffee, I assumed - between two front hooves, he held the cup with some sort of claw. He was wearing fingerless gloves, exposing the tips of his claws and showing them as they really were; fleshy and kinda gross appendages. No talons or tentacles.
His other foreleg, arm, whatever, was resting on the table, a small, closed book under its claw, and on top of his head was an old, dusty fedora with a bit of an oversized feather messily protruding from it. On the table lay some sort of contraption, not sure what it was.
From that far away, only being able to see the side of his face, I couldn't tell you much more about that area.
The bottom of his face was covered in some sort of mask, at least I thought it was a mask. Several tubes, a couple larger ones and a few smaller ones, stuck out the bottom of the leather and all went to somewhere inside of his cloak.
"Why's he wearin' that mask?" I leaned over and asked Flare.
She only shook her head. She didn't know.
That, if my eyes weren't lying to me, that is, was "The Alien." Ponies also called him "'Ole Deadeye." He, as far as I knew, was some sort of monkey-like, albeit bigger and smarter, alien that had entered our world from a rift leading from his about three years ago. It took him a while, but he eventually convinced the Princesses that he could be trusted and he was given permission to roam Equestria as he pleased. Not much had been seen of him; he was really quite the hermit. I already was a pretty big hermit myself, but I could still understand. Having to leave your world for entire new one must be tough.
I sat and looked at him for a bit more when something hit me.
"Flare...has anyone taken his order yet?"
The brightly-colored mare, instead of answering, looked to the ground and hid behind her curly blonde mane, her teal eyes avoiding my gaze.
After a few moments of silence, she whispered, "Not really. Frosty gave him a mug of coffee when he walked in, on the house, I guess, and that's about it."
I sighed. He may have been an alien, but there was no rule that stated that aliens could not be served here.
I said this to Flare, but she only shrugged.
I sighed again.
"Gah, fine, I'll go do it."
Flare's head straightened up and her eyes widened with concern.
"Are you sure, Crimson?"
I nodded.
"Yeah, I mean, why not? I'm pretty sure he's safe..."
"What about that burglar a while back?"
"Oh...that..."
Ya see, a while back, when 'Old Deadeye had first arrived, Celestia and Luna had given him some accommodations in the city, an old house, after they had judged him responsible and harmless enough to be let out of their site.
Well, a few days later, a burglar, completely unaware of the building's resident, broke in.
It was bad. 'Ole Deadeye was rumored to have broke his neck, chopped him into pieces, and eaten the corpse. 'Course, that was probably not true, but one had to wonder...
"Well, Flare, I'm not a burglar, I'm a waitress, and this stallion or whatever he is obviously wants something to drink. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take his order."
I looked at the bartender, Frosty Brew, by the way, and he nodded encouragingly, his smile just creeping from under his big, bushy brown mustache and his bald head shining a bit in the light.
I shrugged and dismounted my stool. I began to walk over to the parlor where the alien sat, sipping his coffee through a tube stuck in his mask, pride in my step.
I must admit, though, I was being a bit over-courageous over there, so I began to falter and stumble a bit as I got closer.
What if he did eat ponies? Maybe he somehow went crazy over the years of loneliness and is waiting for some cute waitress to come near him so he can-
I shook my head.
"Come on, Crimson, you're being ridiculous," I scolded myself.
I continued, sweating a bit, and finally reached the creature's table. He didn't look at me.
"Uh...um...hello? May I...may I take your order?"
Suddenly, he turned to face me and I had to bit my tongue to keep from gasping. He'd earned his nickname well.
His left eye was indeed dead, white as a marble it was. In fact, his other eye seemed a bit dim, too...
His face, at least what I could see of it though was surprisingly smooth. The only scar was that across his eye and what little I could see of his mane stuck out from the sides of his hat; it was a dark brownish color.
His eye, the good one, kinda surprised me. It was a really pretty blue, even if it were a bit dim.
Then he spoke. I had to bite my tongue even harder that time.
That mask did something to his voice besides muffle it, that's for sure. His tone was deep, mechanical and...for lack of a better word, gargly.
"Ah. So this place does serve its customers. I was beginning to beleive otherwise..."
I gulped and said in a halting voice, "Um, yeah, sorry about that. It seems that I'm the only one who was brave enough to come near ya, and I'm...a bit late...."
Despite the fact that he was wearing that mask of his, I could tell that he was smiling by looking at his eyes.
"I'm just kidding; I understand. Not every day that you get an alien at your restaurant, eh?"
"N-n-no, sir."
He chuckled heavily.
"Well, I never got a menu, but I'm going to assume that you have fish and chips?"
I nodded.
"Vodka?'
Another timid nod from me.
"I'll have the fish and chips, large please, but not the vodka; I don't drink alcohol."
What?
"Just another coffee will be fine, thank you."
He hoofed me his mug and I took it. He hadn't stricken me as evil, so I manged not to scamper away like a little filly when I walked away.
I let out a relieved breath when I reached the bar.
"Frosty, he wants a large fish 'n chips and another coffee."
The large stallion grunted happily and got to work.
I turned to Flare who was looking at me in wonder.
"And that's how ya do it," I said, smugly.It took a while but eventually everyone grew used to the presence of 'Ole Deadeye and the noise slowly increased. The other waitresses eventually mare'd up and abandoned the dressing room in favor of the drinks and noise outside.
Frosty apologized to me about his behavior earlier, explaining that he no idea if anything he might have said would offend his unique guest.
Bit of a weird precaution, I guess, but it made sense.
So the night dragged on and on. Deadeye never ordered anything else, but neither did he leave, instead opting to take notes or something in the little book that had previously been under his claw.
In a kind of creepy fashion, however, he followed me out when my shift ended, startling a bit of the patrons.
When we were outside, he said to me, "I never got your name."
"Bloom. Crimson Bloom."
The alien chuckled.
"What?"
"I have been here for three years and I never think I'll get used to these ponies and their names."
I chuckled myself at that, then I said, "Hey, speaking of names...?"
"Well, here I guess I get called 'Ole Deadeye, The Alien, or Freak."
"D'ya have a real name?"
"Yep. Can I walk you home?"
"Erm, well, I live pretty far out..."
"I promise that I won't eat you. It's just you are literally the fifth pony, Bat or not, ever to speak to me without me talking first. It's enjoyable. I hope you do not mind if I make friends with you, Miss Bloom?"
"Uh, no, I guess not, and call me Crimson."
I inwardly shrugged and we set forth. If he did end up trying anything on the way home in the dead of night I told myself that I could take him.
After a while, I asked him, "Wait, I'm only the fifth?"
"Yes."
"Really? Wow, I thought that we ponies were a lot nicer."
Deadeye chuckled.
"I thought so too, the Princesses and most of the Elements were nice enough, but that's where it ended."
"That's too bad."
"Indeed."
After a bit more silence, I began to feel awkward.
Do aliens get awkward?
I had literally millions of questions, but I had no idea whether any of them were offensive or something.
"I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable, Crimson, but the fault is yours if you cannot bring up a topic of conversation, seeing as I know next to nothing about Equestria as a whole," Deadeye said abruptly.
"Well...uh...why do you talk like that?"
"Like how?"
"All...intelligent-like and stuff.."
Deadeye chuckled and answered, saying, "Well, back on Earth, I was a scientist. Still am I suppose. The education made it so, I would beleive."
"Oh? What did you study?"
"Weapon systems."
"Weapon 'systems?'"
"Affirmative. CTCAMs, Orbital Fuel Rod Cannons and the like."
"I have no idea what any of that means. I take it that you're quite an advanced race, compared to us."
He shrugged.
"Yes, I suppose...but we don't have magic."
"Woah, really?"
"Indeed."
"How do you...how do you live?"
"When I was on Earth, mostly through rapidly depleting fossil fuels."
"Alright then, why are you wearing that mask?"
"Well, on Earth, at least where I was, the pollution was high enough to the point at which it was toxic to all of those who inhaled it."
"Wow...but that was on Earth. We're not on Earth."
"Interesting observation, but guess what? The air here is toxic to me as well; to much carbon dioxide."
"Does it ever get uncomfortable?"
Deadeye gave and amused snort.
"Well, no, not really, considering I haven't taken it off since I've been here."
"You sore?"
"Was. I'm not sure when I say this, but I beleive that the edges of the mask are beginning to become grafted to my flesh."
"Eww."
"Indeed."
"..."
"Is this your house?"
"Oh, yeah, it is."
The alien hurried forward and opened the door for me. I smiled at him and walked inside.
"Well, thanks for being willing to come into contact with me, Crimson, I'm glad you did."
I smiled.
"No problem. Thanks for walking me home. I'll see you...?"
"I don't know, perhaps tomorrow. I'm kind of exploring around here, feel free to interrupt my work to say hello if you see me."
I nodded.
"I will. Goodnight...Deadeye?" as soon as that sentence left my mouth I clamped my hoof over my muzzle. My face began to feel quite hot.
"Deadeye" snorted bemusedly.
"Call me Doctor Alexia."
"Uh, okay, night then, Doctor Alexia."
He nodded and turned away toward the gleaming lights in the distance.
I shut the door behind me and looked at my kitchen.
I had just made friends with an alien. Sweet.