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This Is Why I'm Not A Morning Person

It was the Tuesday after my...encounter with Vinyl at her place. Twilight had been poking and prodding as to what made me that much more cheerful all of a sudden, I kept feeding her some lines about finally having a job. I didn't want to say anything about Vinyl and I before things became more definite between us. She seemed to believe it well enough, and didn't ask about it any further. I had gone out for a walk around the town, get some fresh air after being inside almost every waking moment since Friday. Everyone was acting friendly enough, a few odd looks here and there, but no one was running for the hills yet. There were a few ponies that had been following me the last couple of minutes, I assumed they were just gawkers, come to look at the big and wondrous shape-shifter. I passed through the market, stands going down the street as far as the eye could see, and a small sea of ponies, all shopping. A pegasus flew up over the rooftops and yelled something to the crowd. Everyone turned their heads at once in the direction of the pegasus, I think his name was Short Stop, he repeated himself,

"RUNAWAY CART!"

Right up ahead was an intersection, choked with ponies shopping, rapidly turning into a mosh pit of ponies trying to get out of the way of the inbound cart. I saw it racing down the street towards the crowd, easily going 40mph. If they didn't get out of the way soon, there were going to be pieces. Distance to initial point of cart's impact, 15.3 meters; Time to impact, 6 seconds; Probability of route being clear by then: Low. Even if they did get clear, the cart didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. I started shoving my way through the crowd to the throng of ponies at the intersection, keeping my eyes locked on where the cart would first hit. There were three ponies that'd take the first hit, two fillies and a mare who appeared to be their mother. Time to impact, 4 seconds. I forced my way through the crowd to them, grabbing each, speaking with the kind of authority only afforded through imminent doom headed towards innocents,

"Behind me, now."

They obeyed without question, quickly getting as far behind me as they could. Time to impact, 2 seconds. I shifted all of my weight to my legs and dropped to one knee, I could feel the dirt compress under my weight. I crossed my arms in front of me, forming the strongest shield I could make at a moment's notice. Time to impact, 0.5 se-smash. Apparently someone had decided it was a good idea to put roughly 800 kilograms worth of anvils on a 70 kilogram cart and have a pegasus that weighed half as much as the cart push the whole thing uphill. When I let the shield dissolve, I found myself looking at a heap of smashed metal, along with more than a few shocked ponies staring at me. I took my weight off of my feet and looked back at the mare and fillies, "You alright?"

They nodded slightly, shaking like leaves, the fillies looked ready to cry, the mother was trying to calm them. Short Stop came rushing over a moment later, looking plenty out of breath, half exertion and half panic,

"Is everypony okay?"

I got back to my feet, dusting off my jeans, and turned to face him, "No one was harmed."

He let out a huge sigh of relief, "Oh, thank Celestia, I thought for sure that somepony was going to get killed. All because of my stupid mistake."

I put up a hand to stop him, "Were you the only one moving that cart?" He nodded, "Who is your manager?"

He landed, shifting slightly, "His name is Tight Shift, he runs the moving company I work at."

I felt my fists curling and uncurling, "And he thought you were able to move that cart on your own?" He nodded again, "Where is Mr. Shift at the moment?"

As if on cue, said earth pony came sprinting down the street, coming to a dead stop a few feet away from Short Stop, marching over to him, eyes alight with anger,

"You incompetent little buckwit! Do you know how much that is going to cost me?"

Short Stop shrank under the abuse of his manager, "N-no, sir, I don't know."

Tight Shift loomed over him, "A whole bucking lot, that's how much! By Celestia, I should fire you right now."

Panic sparked in Short Stop's eyes, "No, please, sir, I need this job."

I felt anger bubble up in me as Tight Shift looked at Short Stop viciously, "Well, tough horseapples, Short Stop, you're fi-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Both snapped to look at me, Short Stop with an expression of shock, Tight Shift leaning much more towards indignant anger, "I wasn't talking to you, you hairless ape."

A faint red tint asserted itself over my vision, "Well I'm talking to you."

Tight Shift fully turned to face me, "I don't care how special ponies think you are, you don't get to talk to me like that."

I knelt down to his eye level, keeping my voice even, "Why did you have Short Stop try to move close to a metric ton of steel uphill?"

He gestured vaguely to the pegasus in question, "I didn't think the turkey was so weak and clueless that he could buck up a simple delivery."

I locked my jaw in place, the crowd behind us had gone dead silent, "So you expect him to move 25 times his own weight uphill, and he's the clueless one?"

I caught a whiff of his breath, it smelled like he drank pretty regularly. He had a bit of a beer gut, a dirty off-white coat, there was a small band of fur near one hoof that seemed to have been compressed. Recently removed wedding band, maybe? I knew that ponies customarily wore bands of metal around their hooves when they got hitched, similar to wedding rings on humans. Likely recently divorced. He didn't flinch at my reasoning, "If he knew anything about manual labor, he'd know to work smart, not hard."

I felt the all-too irritating feeling of arguing with someone that just plain isn't smart, "At that level, either one becomes an impossibility without any special equipment, which I am not seeing on Short Stop, the cart, or you."

He set his mouth in a hard line, "Even still, he could've at least put in some kind of effort to stop it."

I swung my arm back to point at the crowd behind me, "Had I not intervened, there would be 23 ponies dead, 9 severely wounded, in this plaza alone. If that cart had kept going, there would have been further deaths and injuries. I don't think there is a judge in this country that would buy that line that you just fed me about working smart when the pony in question weighs a twenty-fifth of the cargo he was pushing, which you had him do alone and with no equipment."

A crack appeared in his facade, "Well, it can't be entirely my fault if that hap-"

I cut him off, feeling venom taint my voice, "Yes it could. How would you have enjoyed 23-plus accounts of involuntary manslaughter and dozens of accounts of reckless endangerment?"

That gave him pause, "I don't think I would enjoy that much at all."

I shot a vicious glare at him, "Get a crew out here to clean up this mess, and give Short Stop a raise for saving your sorry hide from those lawsuits by warning everyone of the cart." I got up and walked off before he could respond. The crowd parted without a word, I stalked off with my hands in my pockets.

It was maybe an hour later that I passed by a dilapidated building, it looked like it could have been something akin to a church at one point, but it had clearly been a long time since it had served any kind of purpose. One feature stood out more than anything else, though. It had the design on the back of my jacket painted on the front in pain-staking detail. I stared at it for a moment, making sure I was seeing it correctly, and damned if it was, a perfect copy of the design. I went to the front door and cracked it open, peeking in, to find a sight I certainly didn't expect to find. The interior of the building was restored almost perfectly, pews cleaned and re-stained to a mirror finish, not a trace of mold or dust in the whole place. Even stranger was the fact that there was roughly a dozen ponies in the first couple of rows. At the altar stood an older pegasus, and behind him was a stained glass depiction of myself, claws on one hand, armor on the other, nearly fifteen feet high,

"What the hell...?"

"It would seem that we have spawned a religion, Boss."

The pegasus at the altar hadn't seemed to notice me yet. He had a brown coat, slowly fading to white on his wings, as well as a grey mane and tail, cut short. His eyes were a faded blue, alight with fervor and a new purpose in life, which seemed to be worshiping me. He was standing at the altar, speaking to his congregation,

"...selflessly saving the lives of many ponies in the Market today. He was their salvation, as he will be ours."

The members of his flock all nodded and uttered what sounded like a prayer. They were of various ages and races, all shapes and sizes. There was one colt that looked like he was maybe 14, if not younger, "Anyone else getting just a little creeped out by this?"

I craned my neck to try and get a better view of the church, but unfortunately that made the door squeak what seemed to be loud enough to wake up the whole town, only further amplified by the church's massive interior. Every pony in the building snapped to look at me, their eyes lighting up with reverence when they saw me. They rose from their seats, coming over and kneeling in front of me, looking at the ground, not uttering a word. The pegasus trotted over just after them, he didn't kneel, but he did keep his head down, "Your Eminence."

I stood there in silence, looking at the ponies around me, 25 all together, most of them looked relatively young as far as I could tell. Rebellious youths looking for something to believe in, I guess,

"If I may, Boss, maybe we should stay a little while, see if they are just harmless fans or an issue to be addressed."

I nodded to the pegasus politely, "What is your name?"

He looked up at me, filled with awe, "White Wing, Your Eminence."

I looked around the building properly, still surprised at how complete the restoration was, "Tell me, White Wing, what is this place?"

He allowed himself a small, prideful smile, "It is our temple, dedicated to you."

The other ponies were glancing at me furtively, quickly looking back down when I looked across them, "And who exactly is 'we'?"

White Wing gestured to the group, "We are the Order of New Life."

I nodded thoughtfully, looking at the kneeling ponies, "You may stand if you wish to."

There was a brief moment of total silence before the first stood, she was a unicorn, dark blue-grey coat, black mane, a couple of piercings, seemed like the stereotypical goth girl. She was also the first to look directly at me, while the others were still rising. She seemed less nervous than the others, it almost looked like she was prepared to meet me. I looked back to White Wing, "Would you lower your head a moment?" He did so without argument, the others watching intently. I walked up to him, placing my hand on the top of his head, hair-thin tendrils slipping out of my hand and going into his ears, "You will feel a slight pinch."

He flinched slightly as the tendrils pierced his skull and connected to his brain. There was a sudden explosion of imagery and memories blazing through my head as I began reading him. 59, unmarried, never received his cutie mark, no signs of significant mental instability, saw my arrival and story as inspiring, believing if I could get a second chance, so could he, and founded the Order on that principal, inviting all blank flanks to join, and to worship me as the symbol of second chances, "A bit strange, but his intentions seem harmless enough. I would advise remaining formal and neutral for the time being."

I retracted the tendrils, stepping back. White Wing shuddered from the disconnect, stumbling slightly, "W-what was that, Your Eminence?"

The others were looking at me, their expressions ranging from fascination to barely-concealed revulsion, "It was...a test. You passed."

The unicorn mare suddenly stepped up, "Will you give us your blessing?"

White Wing snapped back to look at her, "Hold your tongue, child."

I put up a hand to stop him, studying her, "And what is your name?"

She looked at me steadily, clearly trying to look brave, "Ice Dancer."

I watched her for a moment, noting her body language. Chest puffed out, taking short breaths, standing tall, ever-so-slight shaking in the knees. She made a point of maintaining eye contact, hers were a deep purple, like so many protagonists in those shoddy romance novels you find in bookstores. I kept looking at her as my hand shifted to claws, "Very well, Ice Dancer, you may have my blessing."

They watched me silently as I made my way to the altar. Generously sized, made of smooth, if roughly-hewn, granite, it felt oddly comforting to touch. I placed my clawed hand flat on the altar and excreted a mild acid from the blades, burning an etch of my hand into the stone. I looked out to the crowd of ponies in front of me, "May you all have a second chance, as I did."

I left without another word, White Wing's following watching me silently. As I closed the door to my church behind me and seeing the sun again, there was only one thought on my mind, "I need a coffee."

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