General Winter

by SONBoomer

Комколзград экспериментальная установка

"Hey, look at this! The first issue of the "Red News"!" exclaimed an excited Spike "The very first of the Hungerian Council Republic's papers! What a find!"

Twilight smiled wryly, following her assistant among the display stands. Since the Journal and Magazine Museum was open, they jumped on the occasion to visit. Well, the drake jumped on it. Much like his adoptive "smallest big sister", Spike also had a strange passion for collecting written work. Unlike the purple unicorn, however, he preferred to go after issues more lighter than the hardcover books they dealt with on a daily basis. Old newspapers were more fitting for his fancy, and the periodic exhibitions of the small Museum offered him a taste of what a collector's paradise would look like. Within the halls of the small, glassed building (bearing a striking resemblance to an oversized gazebo), among the esthetically displayed magazines, comics, broadsheets and such, the little dragon seemed to be on cracked cockatrine-dust and reaching the state of Neighvana in the same time.

Yet, it wasn't his reaction to the discovery (or his obsession) that made the mare wince slightly (nor was it an eerie moment of self-reflection when facing the striking similarities between Spike's, and her own behavior during wee moments of nerdgasm).

No, it was the paper in question, that she felt to be cringeworthy.

The "Red News", the bihebdomadal printed work of the Hungerian Party of Communalists, was a remnant of the past, like many other issues that could be found here. Insignificant in content when compared to others (with each issue being about four pages long, aside from the special editions), it still served as reminded of an... Uncomfortable period of time.

Sunset once explained it to her: following the end of the First Panequine War, the Astro-Hungerian Monarchy, one of the two main members of the Centrum Powers, has collapsed, crumbling into several, newly formed nation states. What followed was a roughly two-year-long period of chaos (the political kind), during which numerous governments came and went in the now small country of Hungery. Teetering from kingdom to republic, then back again, the emergence of the Hungerian Council Republic was like having a piece of red-hot iron jabbed into the hide of an animal, writhing on the ground - both painful, and oddly reinvigorating. Emerging from the failing democracy of the recently formed Ponies' Republic, led by the Revolutionary Command Council, it lasted for 133 months, roughly eleven years, before it's inevitable collapse. It was a surprise that it lasted as long as it did - the quite similar Bamareian Council Republic, formed and fallen during it's existence, was another, even more short-lived, attempt at repeating the revolution that occurred in the Northern Republic. Ultimately, both attempts were thwarted, and for good reasons. As a region of the Germane Empire, now reformed as the "Waymare Republic", the Bamareian Council Republic was dismantled by the anti-communalist Freiregs, it's leaders killed, it's headquarters in Munchen burned to the ground, as Barmareia was molded back into the former empire, as a region and federal subject it once was. While the inner opposition brought forth the end of the Munchen Räterepublik, it's Hungerian "sister" was brought down by both civil unrest (legitimate, as it was caused by the instituted 'red terror' that the increasingly paranoid Command Council ordered to go underway) and foreign pressure, namely, the invasion of the Roamenian Army. With the collapse of the Council Republic, and the "Kommün" fleeing the country, Hungery suffered not only from a collapsed economy and a rampaging invading army, but also, from a crisis of values, something which has been present since the collapse of the old, joint empire, and the failure of the democratic Ponies' Republic and the councilist Council Republic only increased this sensation. The ponies were desperate, and wanted none of the "weak-willed" liberal policies that have been around for a couple of decades. They wanted a strong-hooved leadership, something which the Kommün has provided, but in the wrong way. This sensation of loss, this desperation and disorientation, coming hoof-in-hoof with the loss a vast amount of territories, given to new, malignant surrounding countries, born from the defeat of the Empire, and thorn away from the land by victorious, and supposedly "civilized" foreign powers that weren't even there, only fouled the Hungerians' relationship with it's new neighbors. It left them weak and vulnerable to the other extreme of the political spectrum, which, much like in the case of Germaneigh, proved to lead into their tragic disposition in the second "Great War".

The issue, the very first issue of the "Red News" that Spike held in his claws, already contained the subversive stance of the H.P.C., with the first page reading, in bold, straight letters, the demand for "CLASS WAR!", calling out for volunteers to join the struggle for a 'dictatorship of the proletariat'.

It was... Uncomfortable, looking back at history, and seeing how ideas can be twisted out for one's gain, or even corrupted by the same, age-old concept, that the End justifies the Means. It was a learning experience, in hindsight, but one where the lesson learned was almost immediately forgotten.

"Huh... Strange..."

Quiet as it was, Trixie's uttering derailed Twilight's train of thoughts - considering the azure unicorn's usual level of volume, the fact alone, that she was only uttering, was shocking enough.

"What do you mean?"

All four of them were at the "Hungery" display, gazing at the poster collection that the blue pony was levitating.

The page it was opened up displayed the one created for the declaration of the Council Republic, featuring an odd, completely hairless, bipedal red creature, or rather, figure, considering it's rough design. It seemed to marginalize the positive, muscular features of it, whilst gingerly covering up where it's genitals should've been by making the drawing particularly "scribbled" at that. Wielding one hunk of a hammer, the completely red figure turned them into living question marks. His mere existence did so to many others throughout history, probably including it's creator as well.

"Who... WHAT is this thing?" Sunset blurted out.

"Never seen anyone like it." Trixie mumbled, memorizing the image "Though... He... It... Seems strangely familiar."

"Yeah... Same here..."

"Mmm-hmmm..."

"Well, whoever this... Thing is, he seems to have caused quite a reaction back in his day..." Sunset mused "This figure is still publicly "frowned upon" in Hungery."

"Because it's weird?"

"No, Spike, because it's considered to be 'subversive'.

"Oooooh. Why is that? Because he's naked?"

"How do you...? No, not because he's naked, because he's red!"

"Ah... That... Sounds... Abit... Rac--"

"DON'T! Even get started...!"

After that conclusion, they exited the museum, stepping into the sunlit morning.

The difference was stark, compared to the rest of the land. Here, it felt like it was already spring, with the grass green and fresh with mildew, and flowers blooming. Clouds, sparse and playful, passed before the bright sun. The vast, rectangular meadow of park was criss-crossed by maze-like pathways, going around small clumps of trees, tiny lakes and statues, with ornate gazebos placed on key locations, forming the constellation that was the area's namesake: Orion.

Orion Square was among the most famous sights of Komkolzgrad. The city, originally an enormous mining and factory complex, was abandoned half a good thirty years ago (for reasons unknown), and it's rediscovery brought life back between the walls and streets of the old research center. For this city of factories, foundries and refineries was also the Union's head research center, in the fields of cosmonautics, aerodynamics, and ordnance, most prominent among a myriad of research projects carried out here. Surrounded by the tall mountains that once contained the mines and fed the massive combinat with ores, coal, and gems, now mostly barren, and forlorn as ever, life in Komkolzgrad could be described by having the ever-present, yet, not overbearing feeling of being watched, but never judged, by stoic sentinels.

The park itself was surrounded by tall buildings, the old living quarters of the workers, now converted into more comfortable, residential apartments... Though, most of them were still inhabited by local workponies, who, nevertheless, welcomed the improvements. The brown brick buildings, with walls painted yellow and roofs composed of tin tiles, salient, fully built-in balconies that protruded like the bastions of old, Brutish castles - and were mostly used as winter gardens to grow the ingredients of woodka.

These "steelinkas", as they were known, were simple and solid, self-contained, like fortresses - however, their interior design left much to be desired. Renovations were an [integral part of the city (no pun intended). Bordering the square like a wall, they overlooked this bustling garden of life. A spell, casted centuries ago, turned one, huge block's worth of land into a meadow of eternal peace. No howling wind, no freezing blizzard, and not even the smog-smothered atmosphere of the complex that built around it. Simply known as "Убежище", or "Haven" by the locals, it came as a surprise to many foreign visitors that no commercial venues - besides the small museum and a concert and exhibition hall built on it's grounds - were set up around such an exquisite phenomenon.

"Where to now?" the drake asked "We've visited the local leaders."

"Which was, oddly enough, the Board of Directors of Komkolzgrad's Gogorin University." Twilight mused "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

The rectors assured them that the 'univer-city' would be attending the "Winterval", as they called it, revealing their finest achievements in science, aimed for the betterment of all life on the planet.

"Vee've gotten DIS klose into unkovering de sekret behind de spell of Орион!" one of them exclaimed excitedly, gesticulating with his hooves to show the exact proximity they came to solving the riddle of magic.

"We've still got quite a few exhibitions to go around." Trixie replied, spotting a public map near by.

Trotting up to it - and subsequently figuring out that it was one of the older city maps which still contained many archaic letters and numeral characters from before the grammar reform - they began to decipher it the best their expertise allowed it. However, even with Trixie's fluency, Sunset's knowledge of the language, Twilight's knowledge about grammar, and Spike's general knowledge about the Serialic alphabet, they were struggling with it. It also didn't help that the map had become a victim of the elements, and was, for the most part, completely smudged.

After about ten minutes, the purple unicorn gave an exasperated sigh:

"AAAARGH! This is taking forever!"

"Then, don't bother with it." said a voice.

To be fair, they weren't as startled by the sudden presence of another as they were startled by a number of things since the beginning of their days-long vacation of a journey. Still, they were startled by the intruding speech.

Calming down, they waited. And waited. And waited. Hoping for an answer, an advice to follow the cynical sentence. When it didn't, Spike was the one to investigate the board holding the map. Walking around, only to see that behind the board stood... Nopony.

The others joined him in his surprised stare.

"Huh... Strange..." he mused.

"No it isn't." said the voice.

Thoroughly confused, they came out from behind the map.

A stallion stood a few trots away from them, down the walkway, beside an ornate lamp. Jet black - fur, crest, tail, every inch - with black eyes, and pupils so deep that they outmatched the intensity of his irises. Speaking of intensity, the snakey, pronounced eyebrows he had only enhanced the scowl he had on his face. His gait was normal, as was his overall posture, though a thin, but fine line could be seen around the base of his neck, where the fur overlapped the coat of his torso, hinting that he regularly lowered his neck. His mane was licked back, as if held in place by grease, though a few loose strands and locks lurched forward. An earth pony, but the height of a pegasus stallion, he was on the short side, but far from being stocky. Not particularly muscular, either, but by no means feeble - he definitely didn't had that aura around him.

As the silence grew weary on them, and the lack of communication increasingly jarring, they approached the stallion - telling scowls be damned.

As they drew closer, they could make out a few other, smaller details.

The stallion's eyes were surrounded by dark circles, a sign of deprivation, most likely of sleep, though, his eyes weren't baggy at all. The closer they got, the more his expression slipped from an irritated scowl to a condescending leer. His small size meant that he was just taller than Sunset, who was the tallest among them. He was, at least, half a head taller than Twilight (second youngest after Spike, though his age and aging was an entirely different case), and a head's worth taller than Trixie (second oldest behind Sunset and second shortest behind Spike). He also seemed to be a year older than Sunset, making him the oldest among them. Light dully reflects from his mane and tail, though it doesn't looks greased, or naturally greasy. Everdeep eyes stare at them from behind half lowered lids, not eyeing them up, but merely gazing in their general direction.

Finally, he breaks the silence, as abruptly as he did the first time:

"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" he snapped, turning away from them, revealing his all-crimson cutie mark.

Baffled by his crassness, it took time for the three mares and dragon to respond, and, as per usual, Sunset was the first to react sensibly.

"H-Hey... You... Wait!"

...Kinda.

The stallion didn't stop, instead, he continued to trot down the pathway, paying no heed to the yells of the three mares... Up until they caught up with him.

"I said, "wait"!" Sunset exclaimed.

"And I didn't give a toss." he replied sharply, increasing his pace. Slightly shocked, they stopped for a moment, exchanging bewildered glances, before catching up to him once more. He gave an exasperated sight, haring the rapid clopping of hooves behind him.

"Hey! Just who do you think you are?!" Spike yelled.

"Someone you shouldn't bother with, scaly!" the stallion snapped back.

Once again, they were taken aback. "Scaly" was kind of a racial slur among ponies, kind of archaic, but an insult, none-the-less. Thankfully, Spike was to young to know of the term, so he just shrugged it off as name-calling.

"Hey! Just who do you think you are?!" Trixie exclaimed, getting over the initial shock, and rushing after the stallion. The others, now rather reluctantly, followed pursuit. The stallion seemed to comply to the blue mare's wishes, anyway. With an exasperated sigh, he slowed his pace, allowing them to catch up to him. Trixie quickly caught up, but before she could even begin to chew him out, he snapped at her:

"Would you be as kind as to tell me just WHAT bloody business you lot have with me?"

For the first time in her life, the azure mare was left completely speechless. This colt's attitude was almost grizzly. The others remained observant. Sunset was quick to notice that he appeared a tad more muscular up close. His gait gave her the impression of being stooped, a common physical demeanor among those working in the heavy industrial sector. His fur smelled of iron and coal. The fiery unicorn wasn't surprised, when a gentle nudge revealed that his fur lost it's lustrum due to a layer of soot covering it.

What caught Twilight's eye was his cutie mark. Initially, she thought it was the classic Hammer'n'Sickle, with the Red Star above it - a recurring mark, it's variations found among the scholars of Marksist studies, and on certain old-school council members as well. But upon closer inspection, it was clear that it wasn't the same she had seen many times since her arrival into the Northern Region. The hammer was actually throwing or battle axe, complete with a small "counterweight" blade on the back, and a spike on the top. The sickle was actually a Muletov cocktail, with the bottle serving as the "handle", and the rag and flame arching in a crescent to form the "blade" of the sickle. The red star above it was the classic, "chubby" star, and only served as backdrop to a black capital 'A', encircled, that stood in it's center, or more like cut into it, using the negative space created by his normal, pitch black fur. Oddly enough, the cutie mark appeared to be worn and chipped - not as if it was fake, but naturally.

"You tell us off...!" Trixie began, but was quickly interrupted.

"I did not tell you off, I merely suggested that you don't waste your time trying to read the hieroglyphs of an outdated public map." the stallion growled.

"...And then, you just leave us there!" the mare added, without skipping a beat.

"Naturally. I considered my part in aiding you complete, so I decided to leave. That is, until I realised that you kept ogling at me, quite rudely."

"...No, we weren't!" Sunset snapped.

"Weren't you?" he asked back, narrowing his eyes. To the others' shock, this made the unicorn retreat.

"Now." he grumbled "If you ladies don't mind... I'll be on my way."

"Wait! Don't go yet..." Twilight called out.

"Why not? I've got things to do." the black pony replied.

"Where are you going?" she asked "Is it work related?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"What's it to you?"

"Well..." she muttered "If it isn't work-related... Could you help us?"

"...With what?"

"Well... We don't exactly know what sights are here to be seen, so..."

"You need a tour guide."

"Yes."

He thought for a moment.

"Sorry. It's both a personal matter... AND work-related."

"Couldn't we... Tag along, still?"

He closed his eyes, and pondered for a long time. Finally, with a deep sigh, he turned.

"Come."

Following him through the workers' city, the mares were lead through... Simply streets, alleyways, over-, and underpasses. They saw a few sights, such as the unnamed square which served as the terminal for city's busses - all articulated, for some reason -, colloquially known as "Lamps Square" ('Лампа Площади'), due to the numerous streets light suspended above the area via an elaborate, checkered pattern of wires. Another one was the 'Серебряная Стрела' or "Silver Arrow", a rather futuristic-looking radio and television transmitter, one of the tallest free-standing broadcasting towers in the world. Inspired by the TV tower in the once separate, eastern part of Burlyn, in close proximity to the former "Palast der Republik", now an exhibition center and museum, still bearing the coat of arms of the now defunct, assimilated country of (North-)East Gearmaneigh. On 'Lamp Square', they got onto, oddly enough, a trolley bus, one of the few that was in service. Originally designed here, in Komkolzgrad, it wasn't until the complex was rediscovered and expanded into a city that they were introduced to the very place that saw them being designed and built. Still, only a few streets and three districts had trolleys instead of busses, for only that three had the right circumstances to support such service on it's roads. Getting of at a noticeably older part of town, they found themselves, sitting at a tram station.

Trams only functioned in one district of the complex, arguably the largest one by both the average height of buildings, and area.

Добыча Сайта. The mining district.

The most notorious part of Komkolzgrad. Also, the innermost section, far further from any rail links leading out of town than any other district was.

It was at that exact moment of realization that prompted Trixie into bursting out in a shout-whisper:

"Twilight, just what the hay were you thinking?!" she hissed.

"Yeah, we don't even know this guy!" Spike added.

"He seems like a solid person." Twilight retorted, as quiet and firm as she could "Besides, we know how to defend ourselves, right?"

"Not JUST defend." Sunset murmured, audible for anyone to hear. The others looked up.

The stallion, who introduced himself as Gronk ("Gronk? What kind of name is that?" "My name. If you're oh-so-willing to adopt me at this age, for example, I'll be inclined to change, of course."), was at the ticket booth.

"Solid person..." Trixie huffed "Yeah. Has the cutie mark of a punk, sounds like he came from the north of Eagleland, and has the manners and mood of a superannuated skinhead."

"Don't be so prejudgemental!" Twilight snapped.

"Prejudgemental?! Twilight, we've talked to him! We've seen how he behaves!"

"We haven't known him for that long of a time! AND it's not right to judge somepony based on their cutie mark!"

"Or lack thereof." Sunset mused.

"If you lot have finished discussing what tactical use I may serve to you, I suggest that you hop onboard. The tram's here." Gronk muttered, stepping into the small chatting circle.The three mares shrunk slightly, feeling slightly ashamed for talking about him behind his back.

The trolleybus rattled into the station, it's quartered doors folding in. As they boarded the bus, it became apparent that Gronk has paid for all of their tickets, while he himself had an annual pass.

The ride was rather uneventful. They passed through old, wide, cobblestone streets and small squares that bare more resemblance to road junctions than leisure areas. It wasn't until the tram entered even narrower streets, with two floor houses standing from wall to wall on either side of the pavement, that they actively began to observe their surroundings.

Finally, the tram stopped at what appeared to be a terminal. In reality, it was a street made inaccessible for carts, carriages and trucks, with a cobblestone pavement, with two rail lines buried into it. The overhead wires secured directly by the walls of nearby buildings. The sidewalk was raised, going around the terminal buffers, with traffic barriers keeping any darediscordish driver from going down the tramline's street.

Getting over the odd terminus, the mares and the drake followed the dark stallion beyond the barrier, entering what can best be described as a square of a campus, surrounded by old, two-or-three story buildings. An asphalt road passed trough it's middle, but that little divider took away nothing from the place's gray integrity. Concrete slabs covered the ground, leaving only tiny islands of vegetation, where they have been torn up in a Tetris-y pattern, allowing the grass, some shrubbery, and even a few, spindly trees to grow. Aside from the road (which lead to incredibly narrow streets on either side, which, despite barely having two lanes and half-a-meter sidewalks on each side, still had old, wooden telephone poles holding the wires and street lamps, making it impossible for pedestrians to NOT use the road for traverse), and Terminus street (yes, that's what it was called), there were only a couple of gateway houses that led to the square (and a wooden palisade in between the main building on the other side, and a burned out house next to it, but more of that later).

The other side of the square was dominated by a large, factory-like building, with large windows, a ground-level entrance that resembled that of a modern hospital's (complete with societal-realistic concrete work and glass doors), and complete with the saw-tooth like roof, and the smoking, tall chimneys in the background.

But it wasn't a factory. The Serialic words were quick to state that.

"Комколзград Технической Академии" read Spike "Komkolzgrad Technical Academy. Not Academy of Science, not Academy of Technology. "Technical Academy"."

"Seems... Rather..." Sunset began...

"Simplistic? Straightforward?" Gronk asked.

"Along those lines..." came the reply.

The inside was as expected: the different halls were used to locate different brand of classes, with hanging corridors and upper offices serving as upper classrooms, and teachers and prefects using special permits to utilise the old overhead cranes within each hall for ease of traverse between the hanging corridors, travelling in their cabins, though the ones in the larger main halls have been converted into travelling platforms, capable of carrying entire classes across the open air. Of course, many had to be updated and regularly maintained to use them, and they were out of service during school breaks, for the sake of maintenance, not to mention receiving annual safety overhauls if necessary. Checkered tiles covered the ground level halls, cheap linoleum, or nothing, covered the corridors. Despite being a large, open space, the building was well-heated: they fixed up some old furnaces, placed them in the small buildings at the base of the smokestacks (where the industrial filters usually went), did a bit of repiping, and bam! Heating and hot water solved!

Though, to be fair, the workshops made out of old garages and a railway roundhouse were still cold as a witch's tit.

"So, you're a student?" Twilight asked, excitedly. The others just smirked, and rolled their eyes. They've known that twinkle in the lavender unicorn's for some years by now.

"Yeah. End term." came the gruff reply.

"...Odd name for your final year..." came the less-than-chaffy reply.

"Not if you're studying in this dump." Gronk hissed "Anyways. Follow me."

"Were are we going?" asked Spike.

"To the dormitories. We'll meet up with my... Associates... And then..."

"Then...?" the mares asked, in rather worried manner.

"You'll see."

The dormitory in question (Dorm III/A) was once an old tenement house, built in Eastern Europonian style, complete with the internal "ribbon balcony" or "round corridors", which were, as the name implied, long balconies covering the inside walls, forming corridors on each level, providing access to the individual apartments. in the middle was usually a concrete-covered courtyard, with usually nothing more, than an iron carpet-dusting stand. Sometimes the tenants placed their plants into the courtyard as well. Certain tenements also had a balcony-corridor on the first floor as well, which were encased with bars against thieves or robbers, or have been extended in width, and turned into greenhouses. Some tenements also had a elevators as well (one shaft to go with two staircases). But everything about them, courtyards, railings, elevators, and even tenants, were old. They were like the predecessors of the prefab houses: once a dominant, low-price feature of the countries within the Councilist Sphere, soon replaced by newer designs.

Dorm III/A was an upgraded version - the ribbon balconies on each level had been rebuilt with more beams supporting them, and splitting them up into "porches" for each flat, via the usage of vertical beams, and had two, easy-access elevator shafts. These old houses usually had a greater interior height (five to six meters), so they split the levels in half, and built additional corridors, extending from the half-level landings within the staircases. With this, of course, came the update and general overhaul of the heating and ventilation systems, electric installations and piping. This economization, however, didn't saved them from the fact that the dormitory was crowded.

Comfortable for all students there, but still crowded.

It was coed, and it wasn't in the same time - the two staircases and elevator shafts separated the mares' and the colts' section.

The area around the dorms were unremarkable. There were five packs of them - groups of four - scattered in a loose, almost haphazardly, checkered pattern. They weren't connected by any pathway or road, and vegetation was sparse around them, growing wild, apparently. It was rumored that the once small mining community resided in these old homes, that were once, indeed, located on streets that have long been erased from every map. And indeed, the few trees and shrubbery or tall grass that grew here did take up unusual, yet familiar patterns as well as the buildings. Behind them stood the increasing incline, leading up the rocky hills this place was so famous for.

Stopping short before the dark, arched entrance of the dorm, Gronk turned to the mares.

"I'll discuss the change in plans with my comrades. Feel free to come inside, but I suggest you stay away from the stallion's fraction of the dorm."

"Why?" Spike asked.

"Cause it'll blow up, you silly boy!" Gronk replied, entering the cavernous entryway.

And so, the three mares and the young dragon ascended the staircase soon after, and, arriving at the top, where the world of mares and the world of stallions were split, they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited...

And ordered a pizza.

"No, I said, TOP floor! Dorm III/A. THREE-AYE! Yes. Yes, we'd like extra cheese on it. It's not the "Royal We", I'm with friends! OK. Thanks."

And waited...

...for the pizza.

"Thanks, and... Hey! I SAID NO BEET SLICES!"

And ate the pizza.

And waited...

Finally...

"Well... We've reached an agreement."

They turned their heads towards the source of the voice. Gronk walked in, from the colts' side, with a few "friends" of his (though, HE certainly wouldn't call them such) trailing behind him.

"We'll do it this afternoon." he said, with a smirk.

"Do what?" Twilight asked.

"Just a little something we've been planning since we've came here..."