//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 Duty Calls // Story: Super Dad // by tallestbrony //------------------------------// Chapter 2 Duty Calls School was not Stars favorite subject. Recess and P.E. were good, but everything else was just... boring. Math was slow and tedious. Science was just overly complicated. Writing and arithmetic was for old ponies and business ponies, and Star was neither. In his mind, he was a super pony in training. He should be learning to jump from building to building and fighting crime! That's how he felt about it though. His father, on the other hoof, thought differently. School was important to him. He wanted Star to study hard so he could go to college one day. It was his dream to watch him walk down to the professor and accept his diploma. That didn't make sense to the young colt, but he didn't question him on it too much. Moon went to college, and he's a super pony now! He summarized that when he said 'college', he meant 'super pony training academy', like the X-Ponies! So he tried his best in school. He wasn't a straight A student, but he didn't have issues with his studies either. "... and that ends our lecture on the Cabbage Revolt of three eighteen." Mr. Guidelines droned on as the class behind him attempted to stay awake. It was history hour, and the little foals were trying their best to listen to their teacher. He was an old stallion, grayed by his years. His monotone voice didn't help the epic tale of feuding farmers from old Equestria. In his younger years he was far more enthusiastic about teaching. But in his later years his luster had faded tremendously. Now, he taught his lesson by the pre-made lecture guidelines. He was very much a 'by the books' pony. "Does any pony have any questions?" THUD "Somepony please pick up Mason before he drools on the floor." This got a few chuckles from the foals. He may be old, but he still knew a thing or two about regaining foals attention. "Recess will begin -*RING*- shortly." All of the colts and fillies cheered as they ran out for their thirty minutes of freedom, racing to either their other friends or favorite playground location. Among the hoard of screaming children, Star Gazer raced to his friends' usual meeting location; the swing set. He smiled as he saw his few friends meeting up at the spot at the back of the playground. His smile fell though when the bullies from earlier were also walking up to that same location. He came to a stop when he realized their intentions were less than desirable. He could easily turn around and go play tether ball. This didn't have to be his problem, but that's never how it goes for the heroes. Full of gusto, he charged towards the group of bullies with little to no plan beyond 'save the day!' In hindsight, maybe if he had paid a little more attention about the Cabbage revolt of three eighteen, he would know better than to charge into a fight with five to one odds. But, duty calls. Moon Gazer breathed heavily as he marched through the dimly lit hollowed gem mines. His sight was narrow, the suit over his body was making him sweat profusely, and he had little to no hearing beyond his breathing trapped in the gas mask. This wasn't the first time he had to march his way down these tunnels. But with every day of digging, his treks became longer and longer. It would eventually get to the point where he would have to wait in a halfway room to be deployed any further; as his breathing mask could only hold so much air. He hated the halfway houses, commonly called Digger Dens. No matter how much vulgarity he surrounded himself with, he was a Canterlot pony. He rarely swore, never spoke of is former love affairs, and hated spitting. The miners there were crude, lewd, and practically vomited the contents of their mouths, both literally and figuratively. He tried to make friends with them from time to time, but they were simply of different cloth. He would ask of family and home, where they would ask of bedded mares and alcohol consumption. He wanted to fit in, but refused to lower his standards. He slowly came to a stop at a fork in the tunnel and pulled out his map. Even though he knew where he was going, he always double checked his map. It never hurt to be sure of where you were going, especially when getting lost meant suffocating. After a quick scan of the markers on the wall, he made his way down the right turn. He had to swallow his fears as he entered the lower depths of the mine. He was scared, for obvious reasons. He knew his destination was quickly approaching and dreaded what it would entail. There had to be an easier way to deal with the toxic gas beyond blowing yourself up. Perhaps a collection spell that would suck the gas up, or perhaps a dampening spell that would stop it from exploding! But, for reasons beyond his educated mind, sending a unicorn to blow themselves up was the common practice. He didn't like it, he wish it would change, but it gave him a job outside of his mark. So he did it. The beating wasn't too bad. He lost, obviously, but not before busting two noses and bucking one unfortunate colt clear off his hooves. Even better, the teachers have no clue what just happened. All they know is that three colts are injured from 'playing'. His bruised side and swollen lip would heal quick enough, but the ego boost from defending his friends would last forever. "You didn't have to do that." News Break, a grey and white earth colt, scolded. "All they wanted was our lunches." "Yeah, but it was cool seeing that one jerk fly!" Blockhead, an ash red unicorn colt with cement grey hair exclaimed. "Hows the lip?" "I've had worse." Star recalled nonchalantly, examining the back of his hoof as he swung from the swing softly. "Besides, if nopony stands up to them, then they'll never leave us alone." "You've been saying that all year. At this point, I think they're too beaten to learn to stop." Blockhead grumbled, joining his friend on the other swing. "Maybe we should just start bringing two lunches and give them decoys." "That won't work for me. I get lunch here." News mused as he took the last swing. "And I don't think I can get my dad to give me two lunches every day of school. Not without getting questioned." Star's father just had a way of knowing things without Star saying. Telepathy made the most sense. "If they want something from me, they'll have to come take it from me!" "Wish I was that strong." News muses, making Star beam with pride. "But I guess I'll have to settle for not being beat ta heck." "Yeah, you just keep taking the hits for us Star." Everypony laughed at Blockheads comment. On the inside though, Star was exhilarated. He may have lost the fight today, but he's slowly getting ready for the fights tomorrow. Soon, he'd be as strong as a pony as Super Dad! The rest of recess was spent with his heads in the clouds, dreaming of what the future would entail for him. Drips and tiny slashes echoed down the dimly lit tunnel as Moon made his way into the suspected area. First things first, he had to find the canary in the tunnel. The poor birds were used as a cheap tool to identify deadly gases in the air. There were spells and enchanted items that could do the same thing. They were safer and far more effective than killing dozens of birds a year, but, they were specialized items. And anything with that specific word usually also came with a higher price tag. So, the D.M.C. has stuck to the old ways in an effort to cut cost. "Poor guy." Moon muttered as he walked up to the bird cage and levitated out the dead bird. He pitied the thing, but it's death was his (and to a greater extent, his sons) survival. He was the only one to ever take the birds out and bury them. Now all he had to do was find the cause of the gas and deal with it properly. This was also somewhere he differed from the other miners. Many were fine with doing the bear minimum down here. The owners were always cutting cost, so why would they do the work as efficiently as possible? This way, they created more work for their fellow workers. Moon did not share this sentiment. Most of it was his pride as a Canterlot pony to do the best he could. That, any work he did would be a reflection of himself and should be to the standards he wished to be held to. On a lower level, he hoped that doing the best job would guarantee him more hours. As of now, he averaged forty hours a week doing this job. Most of the time he was on standby, waiting to be sent in. This earned him about the same amount of pay as the other miners. Plus, they usually had something for the stallion to do while waiting, whether it be cleaning tools or sorting gems. But, more often than not, somepony had to be sent in to deal with the gas buildups. Most of the time he did a satisfactory job. He wasn't the best, but he wasn't the worst either. Realistically the only thing holding him back from being the best was the fact that he had to come back to an area he cleared out recently, again. He couldn't understand why there was a build up again. He cleared it, twice now, but it came right back. He checked the gauge strapped to is right hoof and noted that he was an hour in. He could spare ten, fifteen minutes before having to turn back. He checked the miners log and made a mental note of where they were doing their digging before hefting his way further into the tunnel. He was going to clear this Celestia forsaken tunnel for good this time. He refused to have to come down here again. He simply couldn't make it again. Lunch was an odd time for Star. Most of the time he would eat his lunch and play with his friends. He would say that was the case four out of five times. With his weekly run-ins with the local bullies, he would find himself in one of two situations. Either he would sit with his friends and watch them eat, or play by himself. When he sat with his friends he had a myriad of questions. Why did News get lunch at school and he didn't? Why was it consistent that he would lose his lunch once a week? Why didn't the teachers ever stop the bullies? They were very obviously against bullying, if the lectures and bulletins were anything to go by. But, they were never there to do anything about it. And whenever he, or another student, tried to bring up past mishaps, it always ended the same. 'What did you do to them? They say the same thing, so whose at fault?' Because they're never caught in the act, they make up stories about how Star and his friends bully them as well. It wasn't fair to Star, but that was a part of being a Super Pony. You can't just imprison somepony because one pony is asking you to. You need evidence, compelling testimonies, and a business suit. Well... unless he went the vigilante way, like Batstallion. But he didn't have the money to be like that, so he would have to stick to the facts. This is how he spent his lunch. Lost in his thoughts as he friends ate around him. They didn't think to offer him any of their food. It wasn't that they were trying to be inconsiderate. But with this being a weekly event for the four of them, it was just normal. Some day this week one of them would be in the same position. It didn't help that they also had the mindset that he would just get a bigger meal at home, as was their case. Their families were better off, so getting a snack without asking was second nature to them. Their families didn't worry about where every bit went, so losing one meal wasn't that big of a deal. But, Star powered through it. It was his duty, or, soon it would be. For him to suffer so others wouldn't have to. One could even say it was his calling. Star wouldn't,mainly due to the lack of a insignia on his butt. "This has to be it." Moon mumbled to himself as he made his way into a dark section of the mine. Typically speaking; the darker the area, the newer it was. And with this spot being nearly pick black, this had to be the location. Before he did anything further, he checked his oxygen levels. He was just past his last third in his reserves, meaning he had to work fast. Reaching out with his magic, he brought up a flash light and started inspecting the walls. More often than not, the gas leaks came from pockets in the ground. He had to try and find the area that had exposed one of these pockets and burn out the gas before the miners could come back to work. Well, he didn't have to. He could just ignite it now and call it a day. But, with this being the second time he had to come down here, he ha to make extra sure that the job was done right. So he began the arduous task of searching for the leak pocket. He started to pace up and down the narrow passageway with his flashlight lighting the wall. There was obvious work being done here, but none it seemed to be the area he was looking for. He saw plenty of gems in the walls though. He knew better than to try and take a few though.They were very thorough about that. Before you could leave the mine they made sure to check you over completely. The ponies in-charge of this were very loyal to the forepony, thanks to the handsome salaries they made. Crevice by crevice, gem by gem, he marched down the tight tunnel before he came to a stop near the end. He stepped closer to the small opening in the wall as he spotted something that simply ruined his day. Hanging from a jagged gem inside a crevice was a fluffy grey substance Moon knew all too well about. Kerosene Cotton, as it was known by. A fluffy, cotton like substance that formed in dense pockets of gas build up, hence the name. It wasn't necessarily a natural substance though. It usually only grow in a large pocket of natural gas that was trapped in a vein of gems. If lighting natural gas wasn't bad enough, this was adding fuel to the fire, literally. Back in the day, way back in the day, ponies would gather these up into balls and use them in their catapults to destroy cities, whether they be on the ground or in a cloud. Due to their gem like nature, they burn for hours at a time at high temperature and are extremely volatile. It took a skilled unicorn to handle the substance. Sadly, Moon was not that skilled a unicorn. Moon had two options. He could go back and tell the forepony what he found, forcing him to deal with the problem in a safer manner. Or he could back up to a somewhat safer distance and light it himself. If he did it himself and didn't do it correctly, the mine would be shut down for weeks. The fire would burn too slowly and heat up the mine to a point where it would be shut down for weeks. If he went back there and told the forepony what he found, he could very well lose his job. With little air left in his tank, he had to make the choice quickly. Attempt to deal with the issue himself, or call it in. End the issue without causing any problems, or cause himself even more problems. He didn't have much time. Quickly, he rushed back a few feet until he felt confident he was a safe distance away. Before anything else, he checked his suit to make sure that it was sealed properly. One false latch and he could burn half his coat off. Once done, he started to check his surroundings. In case something went wrong, he may have to make a run for it. So he would check to make sure that there wasn't anything to trip him before doing his duty. It was time. He hated this job. He hated everything about this place. He especially hated having to blow himself up. But, he had to do it. There wasn't any other way for him to provide otherwise. He reminded himself of this every time he had to do it. Otherwise he wouldn't do it. "He we go," he muttered as he ignited his horn. KRA-BOOM