Clash

by sweetiebotzombie

Sweetie-bot Blues

Between the water and the ceiling was a crawl space. It had been there for ages, holding bolts of old fabric and scraps of ribbons. At the present moment it was a hiding place and impromptu repair shop, now complete with its own swimming pool. The 'pool' was dirty, as one might expect from water which has been swilling around a dirty basement floor. However, quite unlike her sister, Sweetie Belle didn't mind being wet and/or dirty. What she did mind, though, was get the dirty water on the delicate- and currently exposed- circuitry in her chest.

Sweetie Belle fumbled with the panel that usually covered her innards, fear causing her hands to tremble. Fear was a ridiculous thing for an artificial being to experience. It was the product of glands and organs that she did not possess. Nonetheless, she was afraid. The water slapped the lower edge of the crawl space. Across the room it gushed from the multitude of broken pipes that twisted through the basement of the Carousel Boutique. Sweetie dropped the panel again, picked it back up, and struggled to refit it. A crude mess of tape and wires rested beneath it. Clearly there was something still wrong, which was preventing the panel from operating properly. Sweetie pushed it into place as best she could, then covered the edges with a thicker variety of tape. Given more time, she could have repaired herself nearly as well as her sister could.

But there wasn't more time, and Rarity couldn't help her anymore. Water now began to trickle into the space. Sweetie grinned bitterly. This place had been her safe haven ever since her first program start. It had seemed like a good place to go into sleep more after everything had happened. The pipes hadn't even registered as a threat in her dazed, injured state. It seemed almost funny that the place she had once considered safest was now something of a death trap.

With a few extra pats to the edges of the tape, Sweetie finished her repairs and tugged her shirt back down. It wouldn't hold up to anything strong, but hopefully it would be able to support her until she could swim to the stairway. For a moment she considered running probabilities, but rejected the idea quickly. She'd rather not know her chances of shorting out. She tossed her repair kit back into her bag, sealed it tightly, then scooted forward. Her toes touched the top of the shelf she had so often climbed to reach this place. It was already knee deep in water. Taking a deep breath (more out of habit than necessity), Sweetie slipped in. Her eyes glowed in the murky depth. Old scarves drifted through the water like snakes, attempting to tangle her feet. Aware that time was running short, Sweetie kicked off the edge of the shelf and began swimming. The busted pipes continued spewing water, but she ignored them. There wasn't any reason to save this place. She had what she really needed in her bag.

Sweetie's hands bumped the lower step, and she scrambled from the water. Tugging an oily cloth from her bag, she quickly wiped down the panel and the areas around it. No water had gotten through, but the tape was already peeling. She climbed the stairs, pulling away tape as she went. At the top was the shattered remains of a door, and beyond that the Boutique lay in shambles.

Gore splattered the walls, dripping onto torn fabrics and scattered gems. Mannequins had been toppled, displays destroyed. Sweetie plopped down on one of the still standing chairs and plucked her repair kit up once again. Beside her was a scattered array of broken teeth and a shattered baseball bat, both of which she ignored. Somewhere down the hall, something growled and pounded on the door of its room. Sweetie ignored it as well, confident in her security measures. She did a proper rewiring, and then fit the panel back in place. This time in clicked in properly, then faded into her skin. This done, Sweetie stood and moved down the hallway. She stopped in front of the door from whence the growling originated, then bent down to peek through the keyhole. Bloodshot blue eyes met hers, but if they saw her, they gave no sign. Sweetie Belle sighed and stood up.

"I'll be back soon, Rarity." she said softly, then stepped away, moving towards the front of the boutique and out into the wasteland beyond. A few of the beasts shambled by, but none of them paid her any mind. Whatever these things were, they didn't seem to recognize her as prey, and for that Sweetie was thankful.

She shouldered her bag and jogged down the street, clothes leaving a dripping trail behind her. Images, maps, names and histories of those she passed, flickered through her mind. She quickly came to the conclusion that more than half of the residents of Ponyville were dead (to some degree, at least). Those who weren't dead had probably long since left the area, although Sweetie's probabilities told her that there was very little chance of things being much better elsewhere.

A memory arose, unbidden, to her mind. Standing beneath a tree, watching the other children running and playing, dirt on her knees. Her movements were still accompanied by a soft whirring sound, and her vocabulary was limited to a few phrases. "Hello, how are you? Welcome to Carousel Boutique. Do you need any assistance?" Repeating those phrases at anyone who approached, until someone (Silver Spoon, her records quickly filled in the knowledge her memory had lacked) had pushed her over and called her a freak. Rarity running out and taking her hand and pulling her away (whir, whir, whirring from her knees as she scurried to keep up), taking her inside, telling her "You're not ready! You're not ready! Stay away from the other children! And look at the mess you've made of yourself!"

Sweetie Belle wrinkled her nose and dismissed the memory. The outskirts of Ponyville had appeared before her, and she stopped. A few of the beasts nearly ran into her in their slow, meandering quest for flesh. For a moment she let the gravity of the world she now lived in sink in. Then, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth (something Rarity had done quite often), she set out once more.

It was day two of the outbreak in Ponyville, and Sweetie Belle was alone.

Comments

[Forgotten]

I am deeply interested. Continue fine sir and know that you just received my first comment on FIMfic.

[Green-Venom]

Interest caught. Should you read this, please continue…