Chapter 42 - Cat's Paw
He didn't try it, if you must know. The disguising ability, he didn't want to risk it, not on this ship. He didn't know how to make it work on purpose or even if Thorax was right about it at all. He remembered his own time in that forest, how it had messed with even his own mind. It was the same mind that, if his suspicions were correct, seemed resistant to any attempts to alter it magically. Thorax might have merely been suffering under the same delusions, for delusions they were and certainly not real.
There is no road.
So it was that he slouched back in his uncomfortable box, gathering an impressive collection of interesting aches and pains, hour after hour, awaiting the time when the ship fell asleep. He felt the brightness of his senses dim. The tugging feeling he had begun to adapt to diminished in severity and clarity as the changeling blood ran its course and its power waned, leaving him with only the bare powers and not their fullest extent. Still, it left his thirst sated and his mind at ease. He liked it when he remembered his humanity and was not reminded of his needs.
So it was that he waited. The thestral mare came back, the smirking one, to see the white pegasus. Cloud Skipper and Midnight Blossom were their names. He would not bother to remember them. They stayed there a while still, in the storeroom, with their quarry nary five feet away and none the wiser for it. He could not see them, for he dared not peek beyond the box. He could barely hear them, so hushed were their whispers and inaudible was their speech as they sat in the quiet of the store. He felt them, however, a strangeness to their beings he could not identify, a calmness to their roiling emotions. He did not mind, for it left him well enough alone. So it was that they left in their turn, leaving him to his thoughts and his churning stomach, for Handy was not a man with sea legs born to him.
His arm ached and he ignored it, thankful for the darkness hiding the sight of the blemish that became his left arm day after day. It spasmed and he bore it with gritted teeth. He wished to vomit but rebuked his urges. And then night fell, and he felt the ship grow at ease, the soft noise that was the beings of everyone aboard falling asleep, lessening the strain on his mind's eye. Mercifully, the tugging grew lighter.
So he emerged.
He quietly made his way out of the store, knowing intrinsically where everyone was in relation to him. Even if he could not tell one tugging sensation from another, it still aided him. He effortlessly avoided them, unburdened by his armour, navigating the near pitch blackness of the ship's interior, from store, to hold, to galley, guided by the faint glow of lanterns and candles in the few cabins he passed. The majority of the soldiers were asleep in the hold, the cabins largely given over to the crew. Everything else appeared to be taken up by supplies or goods to be traded. His only issue was occasionally tripping over something, in one case a discarded, armoured pony boot. Otherwise, he made no noise, or as little as humanly possible, his uncovered feet chaffing against the rough wooden flooring.
It was foolish, he knew, but he needed to know more. Perhaps find a better hiding place, find something edible for when he got hungry in a few hours. His sated bloodlust would only hold off his natural, physical hunger for so long. And so it was that when he had made it to the galley, staffed only by food and a stone oven for the cooking, he was nearly discovered.
The door slammed open and Handy, in a state of distraction as he looked among the perishables for a recognizable vegetable or root tubers, fell to the floor. He pushed up and under the wooden counter, between bags of turnips and a barrel filled with something sweet and scented. Thus hidden, he willed his heart to slow and struggled to not make a sound.
He needn't have bothered. The pair that entered made plenty of sound for the sake of it.
"Get back here!" the first mare hissed. Wasn’t that Midnight? Golden-eyed, light purple hair, smirked a lot? Seemed she was her consulting with someone. White Boy perhaps?
"Just leave me be, Sergeant."
Nope.
His jaw set in place and his fist clenched as he heard that accursed voice again. When he had said he would deal with her another day, he hadn't meant it to be so soon.
"I'm not your sergeant right now," Midnight said, closing the door behind her. "You mind telling me what’s wrong?"
"You know what’s wrong." Stellar settled down somewhere to Handy's right. Briefly, Handy was thankful he had chosen a hiding spot that had something that smelled so strongly within it. He heard chainmail shift as the other mare drew nearer.
"Look, what happened in Blackport wasn't your fault. So he got away – big deal. Th–"
"That's not what I am talking about," Stellar interrupted angrily. Their voices were hushed, but their feelings were all too clear, or as clear as they could be. Midnight was calm, but Stellar…
Well, Handy wasn't quite sure. It was stormy and felt blackened and hard. He could not read it, but it was loud and erratic.
"Back at the bar, where I lost him first, when we were attacked by that drunk."
"I wasn't there, but I got the report."
"The hate…" Stellar breathed. "I saw the hate in her eyes…"
"Well yeah, Equestrians aren't all that popular in the Enclave, but I wouldn't say we—"
"No you don’t understand. Us! She hated us! She didn't just fight us, she went after us, the thestrals in particular. The things she said…"
"Look, Stellar, listen to me. It's not as bad as you think. Most ponies aren't really sure what to think about the whole thing, and they know better than to judge us all by the pelt. You know this. Stop beating yourself up over it. You already paid the price."
"A short suspension and being stuck in the princess' bad books for the next stars know how long is hardly enough to make up for it! You know what we've went through. Ponies always avoided us on the streets even before the human showed up. Before I, somehow, defied the impossible and turned him into something like us and passed the curse and made things so much worse!"
"Oh yeah. Ponies step out of the way when they see armoured royal guards walking past them. Clearly they are hiding deep-seated fears and not, you know, stepping out of the way of intimidating professional soldiers or anything. Wait ‘til I tell Sergeant Cloud. He will be so shocked considering not a single day guard he knows has ever felt the same way." Midnight sighed sarcastically.
"You know damn well what I mean. My friends have suffered enough because of it. And it’s all my fault."
"Stop that."
"But it is! I've brought back the ignorance and the fear an-and all because I couldn't help myself. All b-because I lost control and sucked somepony's blood, like a, like a—!" The slap was loud enough that Handy could hear it from where he was. It certainly shut Stellar up.
"Get a hold of yourself. Listen to me. Are you listening? Good." Midnight breathed heavily. "If you think you're the only thestral to have broken the law when it comes to taking blood from other ponies, you are so badly in denial it would be hilarious if it wasn't so sad. And you know others have done it from time to time, and you know some have willing donors. Most others have their own ways of doing things: the occasional chicken, getting 'delayed' on patrols in wooded areas, taking leave to go back home to the Hollows, Blackwoods, and Fetsworth. And you know why they do."
"But the potion—"
"Works, yeah, I know it does. We all do. But it tastes like ash and vomit."
"…How do you know wha—?"
"Not the point! But would you expect a griffon to eat fake meat that gives them what they need but tastes like stale bread if the bread were made from wood chippings? Don't give me that look, I know a guy. You had been putting it off for a while, weren't you? When it came to that night, how long had you been going cold on the rations?"
"…A while."
"And you had no backup plan. That was stupid."
"But I bit somepony…"
"Yeah you did, and you didn't even have the courtesy to buy dinner first." She laughed lightly, but it slowly died off. Judging by what he was sensing, Stellar was not particularly amused. She sighed. "Yes, okay, you messed up. What you did was wrong, but nopony could have foreseen you'd… you know, change him. That's never happened before."
"I still shouldn't have done it. There's no excuse. I failed everypony. I-I disgraced the princess."
"Luna is still sore from the Celestial Wars. She's just scared that what happened would cause the same scare as it would back then. She is just trying to protect us. She doesn't understand ponies are different now. They're… well, okay, still freaked out, but it’s not like it was back then. I don't see thestrals driven out of their hometowns, do you?"
"But the wars are ancient history."
"And until six years ago, so was the princess." That gave Handy reason to raise an eyebrow. "That’s why she was so furious with us, with you in particular. In fact, that’s why you were on this mission, because of your relationship to the human."
"But he hates me! Why would she want me here because of that? That's more likely to make the mission fail than anything else."
"Because there is no way he couldn't respond to you because of that," her senior replied. "Maybe he would've seen reason, maybe he would've attacked, but it would have kept him busy long enough to corner him, maybe get him away before the Enclave could stop us. What we didn't account for was you going off on your own."
"Yeah, well, we didn't account for changelings either," Stellar replied, suddenly uncertain of herself. He heard chewing and the next time Midnight spoke, her words had to pass through a mouthful of, apparently, bread.
"So…" Midnight said, chewing noisily. "How did he take it?"
"What?"
"The news. I imagine you tried talking to him before, you know, getting into a bar fight. Now, I'm not a stickler for regulations and rules most days of the week, but it was a lllliiittle early for that, don't you think?"
"That's not funny."
"Matter of perspective. So?"
"He… He said he can't. He said the reason he was even here is because he was chasing something."
"The pony with the freaky power?"
"Yeah, he'd been chasing it for weeks before we showed up. He said that’s why he can't go back to Griffonia, because what we saw there was what… what killed him."
The chewing stopped.
"Need to clean my ears out. Come again?"
"The pony at the port, the… things that attacked the train when we first… when I… back then… Those things that we fought, and the giant monster on the roof that knocked me out of the air – they were the same thing. They had the same magical source of whatever it was. It was the same thing that caused that mess at the festival that supposedly killed him. He couldn't go back until he was sure it wasn't a threat anymore."
"And do you believe that?"
"I don't know. He may even be behind it. But he stopped the thing on the train; he stopped the pony back in Blackport and… Well, after he disappeared, the festival stopped having weird magic affecting everything."
"And Blueblood?"
"Nothing. If he knows or did anything, he didn't give anything away."
Blueblood? What did he have to do with anything?
"And you say he is hunting this… whatever it is? This magic?"
"It seems like it. We found one pin from the time on the train. Another was found at the festival, and here we have confirmation. He's linked to it somehow."
"Now see, do you think anypony else would have gotten that out of him?"
"Probably."
"Don't sell yourself short, kid."
"…You're younger than me. By a year."
"Ah ah, I outrank you. That’s enough. And now we know that whatever those events were, it’s important enough to cause the human to not go back to Griffonia, even if his kingdom is potentially in danger. Heh, and you said you would hurt more than help."
"But that's not much."
"It’s more than nothing, which is what we otherwise would have had. Now we just need to find out where he is going next. Either he's a threat, or what he's chasing is, and we still have our orders."
"And the changelings?"
"Well, he did throw them under the wagon to get away from us, so your guess is as good as mine, but hey, don't worry about it."
"Yeah… Yeah, I guess."
"…Hey, you alright?"
"Fine. Just need to think, I guess."
"Right, but don't beat yourself up any further."
"Ow!"
"You're already beat up enough as it is. Have you washed those cuts yet?"
"Yeah." So that’s what he smelt. He could just about make out something strange yet familiar through the pungent aroma of whatever the hell was stored in this barrel.
"Well get them covered, get some sleep, and get your head cleared. We're going to have a Tartarus of a field report to make. Those are orders."
"I thought you weren't here as my sergeant?"
"And now I am. Good night."
"Yeah. Good night."
And those were the last spoken words he heard that night. For the next hour, he would be sitting stock still underneath the counter of the ship's galley, the waves rocking the boat gently underneath, and a moping bat pony sitting just above him. The moping bat pony, who sat there in silence, chewing away on a piece of bread. Whatever internal conflict that was raging within her hadn't let up just because Sergeant Smirks-a-Lot left the room. And as uncomfortable as that unwitting company was, it left Handy alone in the quiet, with only his thoughts for company.
He didn't feel any guilt, or sadness, or sympathy for the plight of the thestrals. None whatsoever. Their fellow ponies distrusted and distanced themselves from each and every one of them? Handy was perfectly fine with that. The one who ruined his life had deep doubts and self-loathing over what she had done— No, correction, the consequences of what she'd done for her people? Frankly, he was surprised nothing worse had befallen her. Maybe he'd correct that at some point. That the entire damned race of vampires being treated with increasing suspicion and hostility, even because of his lies and myth-making was something he was fine with. Even if the regrettable harm he had dealt Shocks was his doing, he was content that it should be to their detriment. That he was not saddened in anyway came as no surprise to him.
What he found strange was that these revelations weren't making him happier.
And he was left with that conundrum when the mare finally left the galley, unaware of his presence and leaving only the light of the moon that shone through the window for company.
--=--
He didn't go back to his hiding place to sleep.
He opted not to at first. Seasickness aside, he had managed to eat something of substance in the galley, then proceeded to continue surveying the ship from the shadows. He avoided the inner hold entirely, given the soldiers that slept there, and tried to find an alternate way above deck when the time came to it.
It had proven elucidating. He had learned that the captain had accepted payment for quartering the troops. He also learned something had happened up north in the Kingdom of the Hebrides in Griffonia that had delayed the ship in the first place. Such was gleaned while he listened in on a trio of crewmen playing a strange board game with pegs, just visible through the slightly ajar doorway to their cabin. Nothing more substantial than that was heard, unfortunately. The conversation soon turned to matters of payment, women, and what they planned to do when the ship arrived at port for the winter. Handy moved on.
With the exception of what an observer might call a humorous moment when a sleeping guardspony on the ground grabbed his leg while in the fit of a dream, Handy had no problem extracting himself from the bowels of the ship to the deck. Getting from the entrance to literally anywhere he could hide was another matter. The moon was shining strong and the ship was bathed in bluish-white light and sharp shadows despite the gathering fog. Indeed, it was so luminous that Handy felt he risked exposure.
He didn't notice that every single lantern was dosed, and the ship was enshrouded in mist. Hushed whispers came from the ship's castle above him, near the wheel, barely audible. There were two of them up there, one on the wheel and the other talking to him. What were they talking about and why the fear of being overheard? And where was everyone else? There should have been more than just two people above deck even at night, and the captain wasn't in his cabin as far as he could sense. Was that him up there?
And then he saw it. A looming darkness rose out of the mist off the ship's port side. It was strange and jagged in shape, uneven with jutting protrusions, like a dagger made from diseased bone. It glided on the water, its momentum barely slowed by the friction and causing no more noise than that of the water folding over on itself as it passed by. The whispering hushed from the castle above him, the steering stopped, the wood of the ships settling under the strain.
He heard it.
It was the sound of something clattering against stone. He just made out scuttling shapes over the form of the strange vessel off their bow, separated from them by a thin veil of water vapour, not making a sound other than what their movements would allow. He couldn't make them out, their hulking, distorted forms dark and mysterious on the other side of the mist, crawling over the terrible mass of the vessel that bore them passing them by. Handy felt his skin crawl. The sheer menace the presence of the passing ship inspired was enough to dredge up the horrors of the Greenwoods, of being surrounded by wood and mist and the things they hid.
There is no road.
The ship eventually passed, leaving them unhindered and unmolested. Its dark form disappeared into the grey, and peace returned to the world in its wake. He heard a sigh as one of the people above him exhaled in relief, the taut and tenseness of their beings relaxed as Handy felt them let go of their anxiety. He retreated back below deck, mindful of the positions of those who were still awake and moving in the dark, making his way to the store and his hiding spot.
He had thought to make work of the night, to explore and to investigate, taking advantage of the fact that the most dangerous ponies, the ones accustomed to the night, would be just as tired and as asleep as their diurnal brethren after the debacle back at Port.
Now he thought otherwise. Some nights were for the sleeping and leaving the terrors outside where they belonged.
--=--
It was noisy when he woke.
He withheld a groan as he felt his unsettled stomach grumble and protest. It was dark, and he was still in his hiding place though the boat had ceased moving. He heard the busy noise of a port, like the one in Blackport but bustling with activity. It was rather startling once he dragged himself from nocturnal oblivion.
Once he had plucked up the daring, he peered from the small window of the store. Sure enough, they were in port, but his vision was marred by the hulking form of a much larger ship saddled to the pier next to the Ironmonger.
He shook the grogginess from his eyes, suppressed a yawn, and reached out with his senses to—
Ow, ow and ow. Wow, okay, that was a mistake. Hot damn, there were a lot of people in this city. He crawled his way over packed crates and barrels, going deeper into the store as if to physically get away from the city. Every morning it was the same: wake up from oblivion and then, slowly but surely, the tugging sensation began as his brain caught up with his consciousness. It was like rolling down a hill that became increasingly covered in nettles the further you went, only to land in thorn bushes at its end.
One can imagine why Handy had avoided ever getting a hangover since he attained the ability. He was not indulging the demon’s drink with this experience every morning. Not until he learned to turn the damn thing off at least.
When at last it settled, he decided to try and concentrate on the blips closest to him on the radar. The ship, it seemed, had emptied, with only a few of the crew on board. The soldiers were gone, and a good thing too. Wait, no, he felt a substantial number of people just off the ship to the starboard side. You called it the starboard side, right? Handy did not know how to ship.
Cautiously approaching the window, small though it was, he positioned himself so that he could look out and up. Sure enough, there were the royal guards up and about, standing in lines on the pier, the evening sun resplendent on their armour. The golden ones at least. Evening already? How long did he sleep? His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed one of the guards turn their heads back towards the boat, and he ducked beneath the window. Thankfully, no one seemed alarmed, so he doubted he was spotted. There was a shout, and he both heard and felt the guards marching off to God only knew where.
Well, he was in Equestria now, on his own and without even the dubious support of the changelings to rely on. Plus he was hunting down a warlock with magical prowess an earth pony should not have as a default, one who had already handed his ass to him. Yippee.
Handy was ignorant when it came to magic, but he knew that most races had some kind of magical connection to the world around them, something innate. That was why you had griffons capable of studying wizardry and becoming staff-wielding mages and the like. But Thunder… there was something disproportionate to old magic that didn't seem right. And that was obvious even to him, a man to whom the entire world seemed wrong. He had to be clever about this if he wanted to beat the stallion and get what he came for.
First thing was that he had to wait. Ah yes, more waiting. It was either for the majority of the crew to leave, to fall asleep, or to slip out under the cover of night. Story of his life. And then…
Shit. And then what? It was not as if he could just ask for directions. The letter had not been specific about where he needed to go once in Manehatten, only that Thunder had definitely been seen and verified. It would take months to find him, all alone and in a large city he was unfamiliar with. It was not as if he didn't stick out. If anything, it'd be good practice for that illusory ability Thorax said he had, but that was scant comfort. It was not as if he had a built in GPS tracker that could… find… what he was after.
Handy sat down on a crate and cradled his face in his hands.
"I am an absolute, irredeemable, fucking idiot."
A quick jaunt out of the store and a careful, so very careful, handling of a closed lantern later, he got to work. He dug through the bundle of stuff, bags, and armour pieces, all bundled up in his cloak which in turn was covered in some cloth he had found in the storeroom itself. He found it and pulled out the witch torch. Placing the lantern on a crate and surreptitiously opening it from a distance by means of a small iron fire-stoker, he lit the torch. The small, caged stone burst into heatless, smokeless blue flame, and he held it before him.
"Can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." Sure, doing it literally anywhere else would have meant pointing him in a cardinal direction, and it would have been time-consuming on his lonesome to narrow his search down. Now that he did have his search narrowed down, it was more reasonable and expedient to do so. Still didn’t excuse the weeks he went without using it back in Blackport, however. Complete brain fart on his part.
He focused on a name and an image, desiring to find his target.
As if fluttering about in an invisible wind, the blue flame bent and flickered, pointing in the direction of his quarry.
Handy smiled.
--=--
Manehatten, in a word, was astonishing.
Handy was not what one may call well-travelled, at least not back on Earth, but he had been to London, seen Barcelona, Rome, Berlin, and was intimately familiar with the cities of his own homeland. In his time in this world, he had seen the gleaming spires of Canterlot, the rugged homes of the griffons of Firthengart, and the deceptive simplicity of the mountain-clinging structures of High Town in Skymount that so emulated King Johan's castle. He had seen the dour streets of Black Port, the dire and sepulchral opulence of Lepidopolis, the canyon city ruled by winter in the Greenwoods, and the unspeakable majesty of the Whisperwood. He had seen bigger cities, grander cities, older cities, more elegant, more storied. He had seen taller buildings, grander streets with more people, and more pleasant smells.
But he had never seen anything like Manehatten.
There was a frenetic energy to the very air that did not sleep even though the world seemed to grind to a stop after nightfall. The streets were still alive as candle bearers went from street to street, igniting the flames upon each light pole's glass house. Each and every building stood, proud and dauntless, made of mortar and brick and stone, drab colours turned majestic and noble in defiance of convention. Whether it was by a trick of the light or a trick of the mind from the atmosphere, Handy could not say.
Dark clouds arose from the ground in the distance beyond the city, across the strait to the houses of industry, from where the factories, mills, smelters, refineries, coal yards, ironworks, and the famous Manehatten train yards called home. It was where the wrought iron leviathans and the great wyrms of steel and fire were constructed and brought in the lifeblood of the city, the ore and raw materials harvested from the fields and the bowels of the earth in the mining and farming townships that so defined eastern Equestria.
There stood a great bridge that connected the island to the mainland, a marvel of the age, a suspension creation that Handy had yet to meet the like of in this world. It was constructed of cold iron, great blocks of stone and granite, sweat and tears, transporting the workers of the city from their places of toil to their places of rest and play on the island that housed the city. The fools probably did not understand what a wonder they had created. That ponies were capable of such things was amazing in itself. The same train that so utilised the bridge cut through the city itself, all the way to the port and harbour where its goods were loaded and unloaded for the bustling port. It was so much larger than that of the city he left, and much busier too, winter be damned.
And yet, so unlike its namesake on Earth, Manehatten defied convention, with a circular street pattern rather than a grid based one. For a reason Handy could not fathom, this city of industry and labour, at some point in its founding, had been constructed around a central point on its coast. The streets radiated outwards in straight lines, and these were connected by concentric semi-circles that began at the coast, went around through each street, and all the way until it hit the coast again. These radiating streets were known locally as ‘high roads.’ This was due to the proclivity of some of them to rise up off of the ground, suspended on great pillars or brick walls in places as they went over the low roads, including the central 'Golden Mile' that bore the train. These high roads led to bustling streets and a secondary level to the city, bearing up bright gardens and parks that dotted the city scape with hanging vines, flowers, and garlands that reached all the way down to the streets below.
Though the day had come to an end, the city was vibrating with life. Late night shops, districts given over for commerce and revelry, bars and dancing halls, buskers playing music, theatres and plays gave cause for the very stones of the street to sing with life and to dance with energy. Restaurants, eateries and cafes, where the workers and their work masters mingled and conversed over lagers and teas. Tiny satellite townships on the same island replicated the city’s layout as they spread out across the island. Droplets rippled upon the water, echoes of their larger cousin.
And for all of that, the unique pony touches were to be seen everywhere: in the small heart and horseshoe decors wrought into the black iron fence work upon the sidewalk bordering the quays, as well as the frosted glass windowpanes of shops and restaurants and homes. Even the poorer districts where the workers of the city dwelled possessed a work-worn dignity that demanded respect. The streets were lined with greenery and well-maintained trees, cherry blossoms if Handy had to guess. They were small, easily maintained, and pretty in the spring time. Their presence, even now as bare skeletons of their former glory, broke the grey monotony of the flagstone paths and brick stone streets. The foul stench of the factory and industry that defined the far side of the bay barely reached the city, the smog and pollution gathered by teams of pegasi taken God only knew where else. A thankless job, but one whose benefits went without saying. A small sympathetic part of his heart hoped those poor bastards had some kind of protection for their poor lungs.
Handy had to take this all in, for you see, the streets of Manehatten were very much a living thing at night, and it was not easy diving from building to building to stay out of the light in order not to be seen. He had secreted his goods away, taking only his chainmail for minimal protection and his boots for running, his cloak for cover and warmth from the biting chill as the first signs of frost and freezing began to show. He got to experience first-hand what it was like to walk head first into a wall where there should have been a street as he turned a corner, as well as figure out when the best times were to hurry through the thoroughfare and going underneath a high road with the minimal possibility of someone seeing him. Diving out from a secluded alleyway, risking several seconds of exposure to lamp light, diving through the obstruction in order to get to the other side and into another hiding place before he was spotted was far more adrenalin-inducing than it should be. The psychic radar he picked up was helpful but imperfect. He could tell where someone was, but not what direction they were looking. He got to see the townhouses of the well-to-do in their gated communities as well as the more roughshod homes of the city-dwelling work pony. He enjoyed the fact that he got lost due to the city's confusing street structure in spite of having a magically-guiding fire in his hands.
Well okay, he did not enjoy it. Not at all. Neither did he enjoy having to about face and run in the opposite direction when he nearly ran out of an alley, headlong into an unlit street where there appeared to be a substantive crowd gathered outside a tavern. They seemed to be entertained by a drunken brawl or another. Handy didn't know; he could just about make out the sound of a violin being abused by someone who clearly had no business playing such an instrument.
But it all paid off in the end.
The flame led him along a street facing the water and the industrial bay area on the far side. It was a quiet, secluded area of the city. Townhouses of the well-to-do-but-not-quite-rich lined the way, an anomaly given that this street lay at the very edge of a rather squalid part of the city, far from the city centre and far from their similarly moneyed fellows.
That likely meant this was a street of the rich who wanted to be left alone and had the money to stay secure even in a location like this.
The candle-bearers with their long sticks had yet to light the wicks of the street lights here. While it was a blessing in allowing Handy to go about without being easily discernible, it did make the fact that he held a creepy blue firelight aloft all the more noticeable. He made do, for he was led to a rather palatial-looking estate. The building towered four or five floors off the ground, not counting the ground floor. It possessed tall windows, a white coat of paint upon its façade, and a subtle opulence too grand for Manehatten and too subdued for a greater city like Canterlot.
He crept closer, leaning against the wall of a townhouse that bordered the half-fence, half-wall enclosure, just enough to spy around the corner and through the bars. The flame was pointing towards the building, slightly upwards. One of the higher floors was where his quarry lay, but he had to be absolutely sure. He pulled back after only a few seconds of exposure. None of the windows appeared to be open, their blinds drawn, but a few rooms had lights on. He could not be seen.
Nor too could he even begin to think of sneaking in there. God only knew what magical traps and tricks an old magic warlock could put in place. No, he had to try something else instead.
Perhaps one may wonder why it was Handy was in such a hurry to find his quarry after arriving at port? Surely it would be more prudent to have waited even longer, perhaps until it was the dead of the night and the streets were more clear and unlit? Surely he had enough experience by now, skulking about in the dark, to know that such a course of action would be more favourable?
Ah, but he had to hurry. The night was still young, and he had much to do. His mind had raced and travelled far in its haste since that time in the galley, listening to the woes of the accursed. He had to act fast before those who had already gone so far to seek him out left the city for greener pastures. To that end, he needed enough time to find out where they had gone while in the city. He had already ruled out traveling outside via train. A plan gestated in his mind as he circled around, skirting the spaces between houses and streets, confirming his prey was in the building he suspected. His breath frosted on the air as he struggled to think. He needed a means of egress, of running away from the scene when all was said and done. In particular, he needed a certain something he was sure he managed to snag from his room back in Blackport, something he was planning on Thorax being able to use, but he'd have to make do. His mind worked, and he smiled.
After all, there was a thestral who wanted to atone for her failings.
Handy had a good idea where she could start.
--=--
It was good to not bear the brunt of a dressing down.
Sure, standing amidst the ranks of the solar and lunar guards, lined up as they were against the yard wall of the Manehatten militia barracks meant they were in the 'splash zone' of the regional commandant's verbose rebuke. Thankfully, it was their newly-minted sergeants who had to deal with it, front and centre. Stoic Skippy stood straight and tall and took the onslaught like a champ. Midnight, on the other hoof, had her ears pressed firmly against the side of her head, her more sensitive thestral ears making the ordeal much worse for her. Stellar could sympathise.
Ordinarily, this sort of occurrence wouldn't be happening. It was a rare absurdity, having a jumped-up marquis' son, the commander of the local militia for Manehatten and its surrounding land, in a position of power over royal guards. Alongside the chief of the city watch, the city’s local police force, he was commanding the city guard, which was a distinct and more militarized patrol force dedicated to the Manehatten Island itself, separate from the marquis’ military forces. Both were leading a contingent of Goldcloaks, the princesses' quasi-professional soldiers whose actual garrison was over a dozen miles away in a castle granted to them by a nearby duke. They stood before a cadre of the princesses' own royal guards and proceeded to treat them all like misbehaving foals. Involving all of these various forces had made sense on paper for the smooth transition of the human from point A to B with minimal fuss, maximum security, and zero exposure to the public. A small royal guard contingent raised fewer eyebrows after all.
Yeah, that all had gone to Tartarus, and right now they were suffering the consequence of giving their after action report.
The young lording in question, arrogant and vainglorious though he was, was actually a capable diplomat when it actually mattered. That was precisely why he was placed in charge of receiving the target and organizing the means of translocation once safely on Equestrian soil, because he was to then make his way right back to Blackport and smooth things over with the Enclave with all the niceties and politicking he was born and bred for.
So one might be able to understand that once he got the news, he was a tad upset at the mess he was being left to clean up, since he was now needed more than ever.
And that was the reason why they had spent the better part of an hour being yelled at by somepony who, ordinarily, had no real right to be speaking to a royal guard much less spewing this level of vitriol. She didn't care too much, not even bothering to commit his name to memory. She just wanted this night to be over and done with.
Eventually they were dismissed as their commander walked off, fretting over the diplomatic nightmare he was now at the centre of. They were each given their dismissal. Some went to whatever spare bunks they could commandeer. Most of the rest tried to forget about everything, hanging around, talking quietly amongst themselves. Stellar took to the air, flying over the barracks wall and alighting on the street on the other side.
The barracks was located close to the outskirts of the city, and this far from the lights and life of the city centre, it was quiet, relaxing. She went for a walk, having left most of her armour behind at the barracks. No sense weighing herself down anymore, and only an idiot would attack a soldier with hoof claws. Especially a thestral at night.
She wandered the streets, the tall buildings and high roads of Manehatten to her right. The much smaller, sparser houses and dwellings were to her left, and beyond them were the sweeping grass fields of the island, bathed a silvery blue in the light of Luna's moon. Her head was a mess – it had been for a long while now. She shook it and then rubbed down the front of her mane. She'd been meaning to have it cut so she'd have less of a case of helmet mane to worry about, but she'd been neglecting it for a while now. Just like a lot of other things that had slipped her mind.
So it was her mind wandered. Had it not been for her training, she might have missed it altogether.
A bright blue light shone from behind a closed-up storefront to her right. Curious, she squinted her eyes to try and discern what it was. It flickered and danced, and she could just barely make out a shadow tha—
And it was gone. Stellar's wings shot out in surprise as she looked left to right before approaching the store carefully and as quietly as she could, lifting herself off the ground slightly and gliding across the empty street, conscious of the noise her armoured boots made. She spied around the corner of the shop. There it was, flickering and flitting. The light emerged from a space between the shop and the next building on the block. Then it disappeared again, retreating farther into the back alley. Alarm bells rang in her head, and she took to the air, hovering above the roofs of the buildings below, scanning the maze of small side streets and narrow thoroughfares from above.
It was gone. She couldn't see it anym— Wait.
"What the…" There it was again, farther away now, blinking into existence in another alley, between a rundown series of houses and an abandoned mill house. Now she was genuinely interested. She flew over and above where the light was as it disappeared beneath wooden crossings that linked the roofs of buildings together and obscured the narrow lanes beneath them, hiding the pony who was leading her on. She was forced to land and entered into the lane, clenching her hooves inward to lower her claws just a bit in anticipation.
"Private Stellar Eclipse, Equestria Royal Guard!" she called out. "Come out now and explain yourself!"
Nopony responded. Her pupils dilated, and her keen night vision picked out the details of her surroundings as sure as if they were lit by the sun. Odd, the ground seemed to be littered with wooden planks wherever solid ground gave way to mud and muck. But despite that, nothing seemed out of place, and she couldn't see the blue light anywhere. She cautiously trudged on. The light winked into existence in a lane to her right, long and winding and far away.
"Ah ha!" she shouted, launching herself down the lane towards it as it danced away. On and on it went. Each time she got close, it disappeared, only to reappear a short time later in another direction. It was almost as if the pony with the light knew where she was every step of the way. It was obvious she was being led closer to the city and farther away from her comrades, but why? She could not say. She had long since lowered her hoof claws fully in anticipation of trouble.
It was deeper into the city, but not too deep. The light led her to the underside of one of the high roads, the first one on the edge of the city that rose above the ground in fact. Instead of a wall, it was supported by stone columns. It was dark under here, surprisingly vacant. She kept aloft in the air, hovering in place. She saw the light in front of her, hidden amidst the garlands of the hanging garden that spilled over from a park above her. Nothing seemed out of place here. There didn't seem to be anypony around. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, but she wasn’t picking out any of the tell-tale signs that there was anypony waiting.
She backed off, flew up and over the park, spooking a few late night ponies on a walk on the high road before coming down on the far side of the road and under it, approaching the hanging garden from the opposite side. Same story here – no signs of anypony. All other avenues of access were blocked off by buildings to her right and left. Yet she could still just about make out the blue light hiding within the garden, waiting.
She didn't like this. She knew she should go back and get reinforcements, for there was something wrong about it all. Nonetheless, she landed, her wings outstretched and her sparkling green eyes darting, covering all the angles as she approached the hanging garden. The greenery was slowing dying off as the winter chill grasped them, but still bountiful enough to obscure what lay within.
The light disappeared again as she entered, the garlands splitting as her head broke the barrier, her boots clacking on the marble tiles of the lower garden. During the day, these walls of garlands would get their sunlight from above. The floor of the park of the high road above was littered with a checkerboard of thick glass squares in a latticework, held together by iron. Each glass was both clear and coloured, interspersing unadulterated sunlight with a rainbow of colour. A small stone fountain and reading benches littered the under-park. The garlands surrounded the space like a curtain. Some lattice work held up additional flowering vines and plant life, complicating the limited space, creating little enclosures of privacy in the already enclosed space. In the spring, the garlands would bloom and flower, making these some of the most treasured public spaces in the entire city for their quiet beauty and majesty.
Now, with the chill of winter biting at her nape, the fountain was silent. What water remained was freezing upon its stone rim. The greenery was losing its life and slowly dying, and the moonlight that shone through casted a mixture of darkened lights upon the ground. It made for an unnerving atmosphere, made all the worse for the near deathly silence.
"Okay," she said slowly, looking around. Her tail flicked once in agitation. "I am here, so what do you want? Show yourself already!"
Still there was silence. She turned on the spot, wings shooting out and dust kicking up in the haste of her movements. All that, just to turn on a spooked street cat that hissed at her from under a reading bench before scurrying off. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, chastising herself for jumping at the slightest noise.
"I'll admit," she rounded on the voice, her weapons clacking against the ground as the blades descended on her hooves with force in her shock as she adopted a battle ready stance. There, from behind a small archway, strode a tall, dark figure, carrying something under a heavy leather cover. "I would have thought I had my work cut out for me trying to get one of you on your own. Maybe even had to scrap the idea altogether and go for something else if all of you held up in that barracks till morning. I do not suppose you ponies have heard that saying about the cat and curiosity, have you?"
"… You," Stellar stated, eyes wide and disbelieving. Handy spread his arms wide.
"Me." Stellar froze, for once genuinely unsure of what to do. He shouldn't be here. How in Tartarus did he get here so fast? Why was he here!? Her wings shot up as she prepared to take to the air again when Handy spoke. "Run now and Manehatten will burn to the ground."
That stopped her in her tracks.
"What are you talking about…? How— Why are you here?" To which the human smiled lightly.
"That'd be telling, but suffice it to say, our interests are mutual for once."
"What interests? You made it quite clear you wouldn't come with us."
"Of course I wouldn't. Would you?"
"I would if it was to help protect my kingdom!"
"And would you have been so eager to do so if it were someone like me to have asked you to? Hmm? What say you, Stellar? Come with me and save all of Equestria from the horrible threat of old magic? That sounds reasonable and trustworthy, right?" She didn't answer, and Handy's smile grew more sincere. "I had been hoping to get White Boy, your shiny new sergeant. Sooo grim-faced and serious. He would have been fun to have led on like this. In truth, any one of you would have done for the message I want to give. Ah, but you…"
He crouched over, hand on knees so he could look her in the eye. From a distance of over five feet of course. "It just had to be you, didn’t it? Ha, to think it'd be you out of all people to have fallen for my ruse."
"I am in no mood for games, Handy," Stellar stated, a hoof raised to her chest in preparation, her wings splayed and ready for a launch. "What do you want? And what gives? You’re talking differently."
"I think you and I are a little past the point of my pleasant formalities," Handy said, his smile slightly more strained and his tone a little colder than the air around them. "But fine, if you so wish to get straight to business, there is some information I want to pass on. Think of it as a little favour from Gethrenia to Equestria."
"Why would you want to give us anything?"
"Oh I don't, especially not you, dear Stellar. Oh my, no. But you see, you and your princesses are very much in the way and in the dark. One state of affairs I am in favour of. The other I am not, and so it is to my advantage that I get you out of my way. And what better way to do that than to alert you to a threat in your very midst?" He paused. "I mean besides me."
"You admit you're a threat?"
"Would it matter if I did? I am treated like one all the same, therefore you have made me one. What choice do I have? You ponies are all stuttering fools, flailing about in your own ignorance and jumping at the lightest of shadows. It is no wonder the Mistress has gone unnoticed as long as she has."
"…Mistress?"
"Ah, have your attention, do I?" he continued, striding calmly around Stellar. She moved, keeping him well within sight but at a distance. She kept the blades on her hooves lowered and ready. "The elemental on the train, those ghosts that proved such a delightful distraction when we first… met. The festival. Blackport. Everything has to do with old magic, and now it is here in the fine, old city of Manehatten."
"Stop dancing around the issue. What are you talking about!?"
"There is a pony I have been hunting since that day in Firthengart. He was behind most of it all, I am sure. He goes by the name of Thunder, and he is right here in this city." Handy paused, stopping mid-stride as he turned to look down at Stellar. "And he plans on destroying it. It'll look like a freak weather accident – storms and waves and all that good stuff. I do not pretend to care for you ponies, least of all Equestrians, but I do intend on stopping him."
"You're lying. There has to be more to it than that. What are you really here for!?"
"Vengeance," Handy said honestly. Stellar stammered. "Oh no, not against you. Not yet at any rate. I'm rather busy I'm afraid, so mayhap some other time. I just really wish to see Thunder shown where he ought to belong, splattered beneath my boot heel."
"I don't believe you." Handy leant back, extending his arms upwards and letting them fall to his side, shaking his head.
"Try to do someone a favour and they throw it back in your face. Such a shame." Handy turned around and took another step before stopping. "One would think you'd want to redeem yourself in the eyes of dear old Ciara."
"What?"
"Oh dear, I meant Luna. My apologies. Names you know, such funny things."
"Wait, what are you saying?!" Stellar demanded, advancing on Handy, only stopping when he swept his cloak back and gently tapped the head of his hammer.
"Another step, little pony, and I swear to God you'll regret it," he said with venom in his voice, his scowl lessening after a moment as he eased back into a calmer tone. "But yes, I know about your little falling out of favour with the princess, how much it hurts you. I can see it; the shame of what you've done and the suspicion and difficulty it has brought down upon your ilk."
"H-How do you… Where did you hear about that?"
"Oh, I have my ways, Eclipse, many ways most mortals should not even be aware of. The dead know many things and told me much during my time among them."
"That’s nonsense. Nopony can come back from the dead. Y-You're just making that up."
"Am I? Was I not annihilated so that not even a trace remained? Did I not appear as if from the ether like a spectre from the mist?" Stellar studied his face for any hint of a lie. He was smiling, enjoying this. He was strutting about without his armour on in full confidence of his security before her. That, more than anything else, gave her pause. There had to be something she was missing. "If your heart beats, do I not hear the blood flowing through your veins from a great distance? While you skulk about, do I not know when you are coming, even in the blackest of nights? Can I not see into your heart and bear witness to the turmoil there? Oh yes, Stellar, I see. I see far more than you could know." He advanced on her slowly. She stumbled back through a lattice fence, knocking the light construction over.
"I know your secret little shame. Oh-so-devout and loyal but cannot stand to keep up with her rations. Cannot bear to obey her oath like so many other thestrals, for the sake of nothing so venial and petty than the fact that you cannot stand the foul taste of your medicine."
"It's not like that!" Stellar shouted back, wide-eyed and alarmed. "I n-never meant to. It was an accident; I slipped up!"
"And created me," Handy finished. "A nightmare of your own fashioning. A mistake born of your own heedlessness. Oh yes, Stellar Eclipse, I am well acquainted with your faults and failings. It is only with every ounce of civility and patience that I do not exact my vengeance upon you right now. We are not done, you and I, and there will be a reckoning between us."
He stopped and backed up a few steps.
"But not now and not here. Your princess wants me to go north to Griffonia? Fine. She has my word I will leave Equestria post haste once I am done here. Then I shall do my very best, as soon as I am able, to ease the tensions and threat to my kingdom. Do you suppose that would be enough to ease Ciara’s and Sorcha’s concerns, or shall I have to dance for their amusement as well?" He threw something at her, and she lifted a hoof to avoid being struck as a heavy leather glove hit the ground. "Tell your superiors the truth. What happened in Blackport will happen here in Manehatten and that I have come to stop it. That it will be worse, for the warlock is much more powerful, and he is great and terrible. Tell them I am here. Tell them where they can find me."
"Why?" Stellar asked. Handy raised an eyebrow. "Why now? If you're not here to come along quietly, why tell us about this… this warlock's presence at all? You weren't too happy when we interfered in Blackport."
"That’s because Blackport was not in Equestria. You shouldn't have been there, and your presence upset a delicate balance. Here? Here you have more of a right to know and… it is advantageous that you know I am not entirely full of spite." She wasn't sure if he was telling her the full truth. In fact, she was certain he was not. Still, she had seen that thing back in Blackport, felt it, and heard the voices screaming in her head. She couldn't afford to dismiss anything out of hoof.
"…And where will we find you?" she asked cautiously. Once more the smile returned to his face.
"At the waterfront to the west, on Seminal Street. There you will find an enclosed estate with a silver lily on the wrought iron gates. The one known as Thunder is an earth pony, has light blue fur, almost white, soft-spoken, prefers garish clothing. He will be on one of the upper floors. Do remember to ask him about the Mistress. Please, it is rather important."
"And who is this Mistress you keep talking about?"
"Why, she is the very reason I am here in these lands in the first place, and who I have sworn to kill. That will have to do for now. Enjoy your proof, Stellar." He gestured to the leather glove before turning around and disappearing behind more latticework.
"Wait! Wait, stop!" she cried, bounding after him and turning a corner and—
The next she saw was the human standing there waiting. His hand gripped the leather cover over his right hand, revealing the bright blue flame he carried as he shoved it into her face. Stellar's night-sight focused eyes were ill-prepared for such a sudden burst of light at such proximity, and she shrieked and fell to the ground, rubbing her burning eyes with her fetlocks.
She was breathing heavily when sight finally returned to her, blinking away dark blotches on her vision as she struggled to see again. She was amazed her face wasn't burnt, not so much as singed. She wasted no time. As soon as so much as one eye was good at seeing half-decently, she launched to the air and flew the entire underside of the high road, from low road to low road. She couldn't find him. Handy was gone, the blue light gone with him, and all she had left to show for it was the story he had given her.
And the glove left lying on the ground.
When you're done, I highly recommend checking out Truekey's Inquisition, a rather enjoyable read in the same adventurous vein as his other works.
Below you'll find a map, Handy's current location is noted by the silver hammer. A useful key to understand what you're looking at as well as other maps can be found here.
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“Other evils there are that may come for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
As always Handys Rep is going to take a rather twisted turn because of this.
And Handy proves to be able to turn the sourest of Lemons into some sweet, sweeet lemonade!
Great addition!
(Will we hear from the Breezies that was in the Woods?)
Bad Mondays is my drug.
Oh, Eclipse. Handy'll soon have you jumping at shadows in a closed room.
Well, Handy technically WAS amongst the dead for a time. A dead city at least. Heh, truth. Tis funny. CARRY ON!
"Dark clouds arose from the ground in the distance beyond the city, across the strait to the houses of industry, from where the factories, MILFS, smelters, refineries, coal yards, ironworks, and the famous Manehatten train yards called home."
I'm pretty sure that should be 'mills', unless your milfs work in factories; if so, carry on :P
Otherwise I'm loving this.
6071284 GOD DAMNIT JBL I AM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE YOU LITTLE TRINIDADIAN FUCKER AND USE YOUR HIDE TO WRITE A BOOK TO BIND YOUR SOUL FOR ALL ETERNITY!
6070878 If his reputation is going to suffer because of this, it would suffer no matter what.
He's all but admitting he is very angry at the single thestral who hurt him, but is willing to put that side for the greater good, to rally against a threat that concerns both of them.
6071319
i.imgur.com/GEgIcAM.gif
i.imgur.com/kW3TeGJ.gif
That should be 'rate'. Didn't really spot anything else but I wasn't really looking, too enthralled in the story, and another excellent chapter.
...It's finally sinking in that Jacques isn't in the story now, and probably won't be for a long while. Damn it, I liked that character.
Also now I definitely can't point out any of his speech errors if/when they happen.
I am empty.
6072002
Funny that you should mention him...
i.imgur.com/IfJtAYB.gif
I first thought that read 'niceties and plotlicking he was born and bred for'
6072195 Either one works
Dance my little puppet! DANCE! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Wooo go Handy go! I still want him to remember the 'nothing in this world has genitalia' thing. That was so amusing.
Great as usual!
6072090
MON VISAGE QUAND
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I'm sure we here at FimFic can help you with that, Handy!
Oh wait, wrong kind of shipping.
Carry on!
i.imgur.com/M7RYRBm.gif
He sure is good sowing confusion and rumors.
6070850 Hush you, no need to tell people secrets of reality that they otherwise would never know.
6070878 Handy enjoys his reputation, as bloated, overinflated and likely to bite him in the ass as it is. When one of the few things you have left to enjoy is the fear of others, might as well use it.
6070919 (Only when you hear the sound of honeysuckle and lime amidst the dewfall and starlight)
6070954 Careful, overdosing is bad.
6070978 If only.
6071065 ...Okay?
6071273 In fairness he wasn't thinking about that when he spun that little waft of bullshit to feed the ponies.
6071319 Considering his reputation as it stands, what difference would it make eitherway?
6071415 Shh.
6071688 Thanks for spotting that, I'll fix it.
6072002 Eh, he'll make it back in one way or another.
6072195 I think that says more about you than you'd like to admit.
I kid, but ass kissing is a fundamental part of politics.
6072242 See, this guy knows whats up.
6072435 One of many things in the giant pile of 'don't think about it' gathering at the back of his mind.
God help him if it should all fall at once.
6072609 Danke.
6072763
6073051 Calm down there.
6073102 Its fun.
Ohhhh, yisss. Story update = Birfmas present. All of the internet points to you my friend.
Oh yes, Handy needs more opportunities to let loose like that, and I can't wait to see how he plans his revenge. Perhaps worsening the rep of the thestrals and making sure they all know who to blame?
6071301
I think you might be missing Stellar's reply here, in between these two paragraphs.
6075154 Thanks for pointing that out, it is now restored.
Iffy, but tripped me up while I was reading it so pointing it out; leave to go back home
Slowly
6075169
Least I could do. Just keep on doing what you're doing.
Also, give those editors a raise. Those guys are doing a stellar job in maintaining immersion through fluent and consistent grammar.
Also...
"Not yet at any right." That's supposed to be RATE.
The editors are good, but they're not perfect.
That's why you got people like me.
6075666 I know this may have only been my first chapter on Bad Mondays but we appreciate the compliment, nonetheless
A surprisingly notable issue is that we're all from different points on the globe. Different statements, expressions, etc. interpretations of the English written language put a strain on understanding what is intentional and acceptable, and what is not.
You're uncomfortably likely to unwittingly create an error by recklessly making changes as you are to fix one. This story's more delicate than any others I've edited before.
-
That's what you have Handyman; a delicate story. How do you feel about your baby?
6075996
I feel spiteful, neglectful and abusive.
I am okay with this.
6077118 Hey. This is a group effort. You can't do this alone.
Let me miss work all the time, become thoroughly addicted to alcohol, and then routinely blame your young and innocent story for all my life problems.
This is the pinnacle of my dreams.
6077228 I am already living the dream.
I wonder why Handy's arm flips the fuck out, I mean, what's wrong with it?
6077894 Its where he habitually applies the salamander salve every chance he got back when he had access to it.
He's been going cold on that little addiction for quite some time now.
6077956 Oh yeah! I forgot that was a thing he did.
I know it's stupid, but i can't stop shipping Handy x Stellar.
It makes for a good hate/love/ hate relationship, like Moriarty x Sherlock, Joker x Batman, Doctor x Master, etc.
6078405 Dude, don't you know that Stellar is Handy's mother? She turned him; she created who he is today; she brought him into his new life.
6078746 0/10 trolling/joke
6078810 Good... because it wasn't.
6078405
6078746
6078810
To be fair, thinking of Stellar as some kind of estranged 'parent' for Handy is... not entirely inaccurate. Depends on how you view the siring process of vampirism. Although there's another magical creature that has a better claim to that title.
As for the shipping well... I've heard of crazier pairings.
I keep thinking the changelings had a part in turning him while he was cocooned. The thestral just finished the job.
Every time you have the chance to make an ally handy you jus gotta go fucker it up with your mysticism and hand waving, the same shit you absolutely loathe when it's done to you....whyyyyy.
6080883 Because what goes around comes around.
Also, he did it because Handy is an asshole and he hates them.
6080705 He'll certainly have a chance to ask about it.
6073648 Ehhhhh, you'll see.
6073322 Thank you.
Ooh, waiting all week for this.
33.media.tumblr.com/b63353e6d2a042355d4574c961828f83/tumblr_n507uqpnLo1smcbm7o1_250.gif
Silly Handy, Manehatten without a tour guide is only half as beautiful.
6084343 You're still annoyed I didn't include the statue of Harmony, huh? =]
6084378
Nah, wasn't even mad. More like a bit disappointed. You also said yourself that you totally forgot about that silly little statue nobody in the world cares about. Well, I don't. I just noticed it missing... Do they have twin towers? I know a location were Handy could hide ^^
6084433 TOO SOON
6090073 Who knows what the future holds *whistles Innocently*