"An' then, I barged in the room, and I told 'em straight, 'Oi, Perry! Keep your pants up!'" The room collectively roared with laughter. Glasses smashed on wood and clinked against each other.
"Calm down, I ain't done yet!" Ricky waved his hands for silence. Slowly, the room quieted back down.
"As I was saying before some lugs interrupted me," Ricky verbally jabbed, "I barged in on Perry and his girlfriend right when he was finally earning his stripes, and he stops, right?" He paused. "So he stops, and he looks me dead in the eye and says, 'What the fuck you doin', Richard?' And I'm standin' there, and I pause for a second, and then I-"
"What'd you do, damnit?!"
"Shut up and maybe I'll get to it, damn fool!" Ricky drunkenly yelled. The voices immediately silenced themselves again.
Ricky slammed a palm on the counter. "Another, strong," he asked one of the soldiers behind the counter, who nodded before rummaging under the bar.
Ricky turned his attention back to his tale of his boyhood friend Perry. "So I'm standing there, interrupting some steamy shite, roaring drunk." Ricky paused for effect.
"And the first thing I say is 'Grabbing some popcorn,' and he looks at me in some form of hatred and says 'What?' And I says back, "It's amazing to see a miracle!'
The entire bar cracked up. The ceiling shook with the laughter.
Ricky himself had nearly keeled over when his new glass of whatever alcohol the ponies had on tap slammed down next to him. Lots of it seemed to be hard cider, strong apple taste.
"That's nothing, Commander!"
"Call me Ricky, soldier! And if you've got something better, tell it to our boys!" A general sound of assent backed up the challenge.
The voice didn't reply. "That's right, you got nothing!"
Ricky grabbed the wooden mug on the bar next to him. Slowly, he pulled it up to his lips and downed the whole thing. "Holy... crap. What's this stuff... made of?"
"Dunno, but you asked for strong. That's what we found." The bartender-soldier shrugged.
"Yeah..." Ricky put his head down on the bar, trying to stop the vision swimming.
The bar eventually broke down into more private conversations. Ricky stayed silent, trying to let the alcohol pass. But that would take time. And judging by the increasing wooziness, time wasn't on supply.
Slowly, Ricky began to drift further into the black void. "You know where the beds are?"
"Door across the bar, over there," the soldier pointed to a closed wooden door. Ricky nodded, before heaving himself up from the barstool and beginning to stumble across the floor.
After much shuffling and banging into people, Ricky arrived at the door. Slowly, he twisted the knob and leaned on the door, slowly swinging it open. He stumbled over to the bed, and flopped down onto the mattress. He made sure to prop his head up, then promptly passed out.
The darkness seemed to last only a second, but when consciousness returned to Ricky's brain, sunlight streamed through the room's window.
"Ugh. Christ that's a hangover," Ricky swung his legs out from under the covers, sitting up in the bed. It took another minute, but Ricky managed to stand up, despite the headache from the hangover. He shuffled to the door, and slowly opened the doorknob.
Light streamed in through the tavern windows, a mostly cloudless day. Most of the bottles behind the counters were now empty. Empty glasses lay everywhere.
"Wonder where everyone is," Ricky thought out loud as he realized he never learned where the new barracks were. ‘Well, town hall’s probably a good start,’ he decided as he slung his rifle back over his shoulder, which had fallen onto the floor after Ricky had passed out.
Running a hand through his greasy nest of black hair, Ricky sighed. "I need a bath," he mumbled as he opened the bar door.
The brilliant sun greeted him. "Ah!" Ricky stumbled back, running into the door frame. He squeezed his eyes shut and held a hand up to try blocking the light that irritated his hungover mind.
Slowly, his body adjusted to the light. By squinting, Ricky was able to make his way through the streets without being blinded by the sunlight. After a bit of wandering, the town hall came into view.
Ricky slowly picked his way through the red brick rubble that used to be the front wall. 'Thank god,' he thought as he spotted Decius, who was pouring over a report.
The Roman veteran noticed the teenager stumbling over. "What did you do last night?"
"Too many drinks," Ricky grimaced.
Decius sighed. "Chrysalis was worried. In fact, she's out looking for you right now."
Chrysalis. Ricky had plenty of time to meditate on matters while walking over, and Chrysalis was one such topic. "Decius," Ricky started slowly, "I have to talk to you about Chrysalis."
"What about?" Sensing this was important, Decius stood up to his impressive full height, facing Ricky.
Ricky blew out a sharp breath through his mouth. "Karl and you both noticeably seem to dismiss her; I've seen Karl even shoot some dirty glares her way. What I need to know is why. She is our ally, after all."
Decius slowly nodded. "I see. Thinking back on it, I was pretty flippant to the changeling. Karl doesn't trust it. He's told me so." Ricky raised an eyebrow. "But what about yourself too, commander? You've been pretty dismissive of her multiple times as well," he pointed out.
"I'm not! I just..." Ricky struggled for an explanation, before throwing up his hands. "Agh! You're right, I have been!"
"Hey Ricky," Decius struggled to hold in a laugh, "why don't you tell her? She's right behind you."
Ricky went rigid. 'Oh... great.' He turned around slowly to see the changeling queen, who had also brought Bessus. "Hi, Chrysalis. Bessus," he addressed both.
Chrysalis walked right up to the teen, only as tall as his chest. "Where the Tartarus were you! I swear to Celestia, you vanish every two seconds!" She planted a hoof on Ricky's chest. "And it scares me half to death every time!"
Ricky snorted. "Sorry, Mom," he snarked, which only made Chrysalis more frustrated. "But seriously, I'll be more careful," he promised. That seemed to placate the changeling, although she still gave Ricky a good glare.
"Ahem," Bessus lightly interrupted the awkward silence, "if I may, Commander Ricky, I have some news for you."
Ricky brightened. "Hopefully it's something good. Keep the streak of good luck rolling, eh?"
"Unfortunately, it's not. Our changelings in the towers tried to stop them, but it was too late. The ponies got a message off to Canterlot Castle, warning of Las Pegasus' capture."
Ricky bit his lip. 'Alright.'
"Not world-ending information, but this throws a wrench into our plans," he divulged aloud, grimacing. "But it should take them some time to get down here and get organized."
At that moment, Flaminitus and Aeneus strode in through the blown-out wall, stomping a salute to the commanders. "We've figured out what the building is down there," Flaminitus announced, "and it's an interesting read."
"What is it?"
"We confiscated this from one of the main rooms inside the building itself," Aeneus slapped a manila folder onto the desk, everyone crowding around. "The contents include a letter from 'Princess Celestia'."
"Let's see, shall we?" Ricky opened the folder, and pulled out the sheet of paper on top.
"To Assembly Line, Head of Project Reflection," Ricky began to read aloud, "I hereby give you clearance to build the requisite facilities needed to continue Project Reflection in Las Pegasus. With luck, I expect that Project Reflection will be at 100 percent production within the next four months at worst. I have the utmost faith in you and your ability to carry out this vital mission for all of Equestria. Her Highness, Princess Celestia."
"Based on the schematics enclosed in the rest of the folder, Project Reflection seems to be described as a way of manufacturing by way of duplication."
Ricky made a small gasp of understanding, the symbolism of the codename Reflection dawning on him. "Duplication... how?"
"It's best if we show you all. Trying to describe it is hard to do otherwise."
Ricky nodded. "Alright, let's go then," he prompted everyone to get up and start the walk to the building that housed Project Reflection.
Ricky whistled. "This is one hell of a setup," he observed the interior of the building, which the Scot could now tell was a factory.
Instead of the normal dirty and cramped factory, the floor was vast, and quite open. The assembly line in the middle was the only real obstacle inside the factory. Shiny pink and blue gems were built into the concrete floors, gleaming with light that the catwalks that made up the second floor reflected back down, lighting up the whole factory.
"Those bright gems in the floor are supposed to lend unicorns enough magic to do the duplication spell. Most can't do it naturally, at least, not that many times in a row," Flaminitus explained.
"How many unicorns that know the spell are still alive?"
"We've rounded up about forty," Aeneus grimaced, "less than half of the supposed workforce of 110."
Ricky tapped his chin with a finger. "Hmm. Chrysalis, what do you think?"
"We could force the unicorns to teach some of the changeling how to do the spell, or get them to write it down," the queen mused.
"How many changelings do we have on hand?"
Bessus cleared his throat. "Around two hundred, more than enough."
Ricky brightened up with a smile. “Great! Bessus, if you could get on that, that'd be just great.”
Bessus took a sweeping bow. “As my Queen commands,” he rumbled, before leaving the factory.
“Well, it seems like right now there's nothing to administrate,” Ricky began, “so I'm going to take a little morale walk among the troops. Jeremiah, Flaminitus, Aeneus, on me.”
Ricky walked out back under the scorching sunlight. Suddenly, he realized something. ‘Where exactly are the troops?’ He turned back to the others, looking at the medic with a pleading expression.
Jeremiah sighed good-naturedly. “Ricky, you're a mess sometimes,” the American chuckled, before waving for the others to follow.
Eventually, Jeremiah led the group into the middle of the makeshift barracks, which was commandeered from the original Western Army of Equestria barracks, plus the surrounding buildings.
Cots and rifles lay everywhere, bullets and grenades stacked neatly in piles next to each bed. Most of the men were huddled around the back end of the barracks. Ricky made his way over, smiling as the friendly shouts of competition began to take over his hearing.
A table had been set up, comprised of 4 smaller tables end-to-end, which stretched the width of the barracks. A few dozen soldiers, the majority Germans, sat in wooden chairs that buckled and threatened to break under the strain, while many more surrounded them, placing bets and cheering on friends, squadmates.
Ricky pushed in and joined the throngs watching what was apparently poker. Most of the coins were stacked between two Germans, three Romans, and a lone American. Another German was dealing out cards. ‘Texas Hold ‘Em,’ Ricky recalled the name as he watched the American in particular.
The drab-colored soldier looked at part of his hand. Slowly, he looked around at the others sitting at the table. A few returned his stare, the others either not noticing or not caring.
The dealer slowly went around the table, collecting bets into the pot. Most folded out, including two of the three top Romans.
By the time the last card was about to be laid down into the five-card set, four were still in. The American Ricky had been watching had gone all in, and so had the Roman. The other two, both Germans, were almost all in.
The dealer put down the last card. Ricky and everyone else around leaned in subconsciously to observe the cards.
‘A queen, two sixes, a four, a three, and an ace,’ Ricky listed in his head.
The first German threw down his cards. A five and a queen. ‘Not bad, but not great either,’ Ricky mentally noted.
The Roman was next. Grinning, he turned over his cards. A four and a three. ‘Two pairs, pretty good.’
The other German slowly flipped his hand, pushing it into the middle of the table. ‘An ace and a queen! Highest pairs so far,’ Ricky excitably realized.
Everyone’s eyes turned to the American. Nobody spoke. Quietly, he flipped his cards, before standing up from the table, his chair making a screech that was magnified a hundred times over by the stillness of the room. He walked away, his expression unreadable, as everyone leaned in to see his hand.
An ace and a four stared back lifelessly at the crowd.
‘He gambled everything… and lost.’ A wave of deep uneasiness washed over Ricky. Unsettled, the teen turned around to leave.
‘Gambled it all… and came up short…’ Ricky stepped back out into Las Pegasus, mulling over the thoughts running rampant in his head.