Dragonfall

by DannyJ

Chapter 16: Human Nature

>Give Dynamite back command of his platoon and hope this situation resolves itself.

Dynamite is still babbling inanely as we sit in the command tent. Outside, the rain continues to pour while a pair of my soldiers stand guard at the tent flaps. A conjured orb of light floating near the ceiling illuminates our meeting as a junior officer pours out coffee from a flask for us.

"No, I'm serious, I'm not Lieutenant Dynamite!" says Lieutenant Dynamite, annoying me. "My name is Explodey McGee! I was created by Lord Second, the human! I was with my friends in the giant spider temple on Mt. Celestia, and we'd all just returned from the afterlife when one of them came out as a vampire, and just as he was about to explain himself, we were all shot by the time cops, because—"

"Dynamite, stop." I hold up a hoof to cut off his mad raving. "Look, I don't blame you for getting some wires crossed, considering you were just eaten by a giant blob of jelly, but I need you to come back down to reality for me now, okay?"

"I'm trying to tell you, I'm not who you think I am! Whoever this Dynamite guy was, he was probably killed when I consumed him. I am the slime monster. Don't you get it?"

I sigh and roll my eyes.

"No. I don't get it. I don't get any of this. I don't get why we're in this miserable city, why I of all ponies had the shit luck to be saddled with this Smooze situation, or why I now have to deal with your crazy talk on top of all that, but I'm pretty damn sick of it all now. Let's just say for a moment that you're telling the truth, and that you really are the Smooze, not Dynamite. You're still talking bullshit, and still have some scrambled memories, so why should I listen to you?"

I sip my coffee, while Dynamite crosses his hooves.

"Like what, for example?"

"Well, for one thing, if by 'Lord Second' you mean the King of the Valley and the patron deity of Secondism, he's an alicorn, not a human," I say. "That says a lot about your current mental state right there."

Confusion crosses Dynamite's face.

"...What?"

"Yup. So you're obviously confused, which means that whether you're Dynamite or the slime monster who ate him, either way you should probably shut up and listen to me."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dynamite holds his hooves up. "If Lord Second is an alicorn and not a human, then how do you know what a human is?"

"Uh, how about because of your sergeant?" I turn to the officer next to us. "You, go fetch Sam."

"Sergeant..." Dynamite mouths, staring down at the table.

Less than a minute later, the tent flaps open, and a stupid, gangly, pink-faced biped in a cowboy hat and a soaking wet duster coat strides in, an emblem of Dynamite's exploding pony cutie mark pinned to his chest.

"Sergeant Sam, reportin'," he drawls in his thick southern accent, chewing on a wad of tobacco as his giant grey moustache bristles.

"Dear Celestia!"

Dynamite trips and falls over the table, landing on the other side with me. He scrambles behind me, putting myself between him and the human. Sam's expression remains unchangingly neutral the whole time; like every other Sunheart, he's long since grown jaded to seeing ponies lose their minds, superior officers included.

I grab Dynamite by the scruff of the neck, shoving him back in front of me.

"He's your sergeant!" I shout. "What the hell are you so afraid of?"

"But he...! How is...? Huh?!"

Dynamite desperately looks between the two of us.

I sigh. "Human, reintroduce yourself for the lieutenant, would you please?"

"Ah'm Sam," the monkey-man drawls. "Sam Calhoun. Folk call me Sam the Man. Ah'm yure sergeant."

"But how?" Dynamite splutters. "Where did you come from? Why are you here?"

"Ah was drawn into this world not by choice, but to serve a purpose." His expression remains blank, his voice not wavering an octave, aside from his comically thick accent. "Higher cosmic forces move in our re-a-li-ty. Ah am here to face a reckoning, as foretold by—"

"Yeah, yeah, blood and prophecies and dark gods, whatever," I say, rolling my eyes. "Nobody cares, Calhoun, you upjumped interdimensional hobo. The point is that you're currently a mercenary in the employ of the Sunheart Company under Lieutenant Dynamite, correct?

The human thing folds his hands behind his back.

"Ah am," he says with a nod.

"Good. So do you think you can help reorient the lieutenant to reality so that he can get back to command already?"

He unceremoniously spits his tobacco on the floor. "Ah suppose."

Dynamite looks at me like I'm the crazy one.

"Where the hell am I?!" he screams. "What is this place? What world am I in?"

"Scenic Hell-on-Earth," I say, lifting my coffee again. "A meat-grinder that chews up soldiers and spits out corpses and mental cases. A job we probably won't survive, and definitely won't get paid for, thanks to you, slime-boy. You're living in the dark timeline now. I'm sorry that you had to hear all of this for the first time twice, but that's just the kind of day you're having, I'm afraid. Welcome to Dragonfall, Lieutenant Dynamite."

Dynamite, if it's at all possible, goes even whiter than he already was.

His sergeant has to drag him from the tent kicking and screaming.

---

Minutes later, Sergeant Breakspear stands alone in the tent with me, spear clutched closely and a stern expression upon his face as I remain at the table.

"You know, I really hate humans," I say, pouring bourbon into my coffee. "Always going on about 'car crash' this and 'the Merchant' that, and 'Woaaah, a talking pony!' I just wish they'd shut their stupid monkey faces and piss off back to whatever parallel universe they came from. Equestria gets enough interdimensional detritus as it is without this wave of annoying ape-creatures."

"You mean there are others?" Breakspear frowns. "I always thought Sam the Man was the only one."

"I wish," I grumble. "Did Yellowbelly or any of the other old timers ever tell you about the Abyssinian naval campaign?"

Breakspear shakes his head.

"Yeah, thought not. Embarrassing chapter in the company's history. Eight straight weeks of getting our asses kicked by shithead pirates while Blackheart tried to prove to daddy that he could command too. I was there at the sinking of the Unsinkable, and let me tell you something: Our reports to the Abyssinian government might say that Hoofbeard got us, but it's a bold-faced lie. We sunk because this one ship full of humans were so persistently, unbelievably annoying that Blackheart broke away from the main fleet and chased them halfway across the Marelantic, directly into a wild hurricane. Then the humans picked us up from the wreckage, and held us hostage for nineteen days.

"Can you even imagine what it's like spending nineteen days around an entire crew of human pirates, who don't even believe that our universe is real? Seriously, they assumed that they'd all gone mad from the sun or something and were just hallucinating us. They did not wash the whole time we were with them! They put reins on us, and rode on our backs while they raced us around the deck! Every time somepony neighed, they'd all laugh and pinch his cheeks and call him a cute little horsey! It was absolutely humiliating! And the sea shanties! Every single day, without fail, sea shanties! Some of them heartsongs!"

"Uhhh... yeah, that sounds... rough...?" Breakspear says uncertainly.

I stare down into my coffee, revulsion shuddering through me as I remember the pirates' cooing voices, Killjoy's mocking laughter, and my own panicked squeaks as their brushes ran through my mane. I shake it off and take a warm, bitter sip, reminding myself that my tenth therapist was right, that I am a brave, fearsome mercenary leader, and that I am only cute when I want to be, not when others make me be.

Sergeant Breakspear takes a step closer.

"Listen... permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission granted," I say, lowering my cup again to glare at him. "But don't make me regret it."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to put Lieutenant Dynamite back in command so soon?"

"Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have done it," I say through clenched teeth. "Breakspear, this Dragonfall situation started out bad and is only getting worse. We're already dealing with the sudden disappearance of our captain. Now is not the time for another big leadership change. Times like these, the chain of command is all that we have."

"Right, I get that." Breakspear pauses. "But do we really want a mentally unstable slime monster in pony form commanding a platoon?"

"What would be your suggestion, sergeant?" I slam the coffee back on the table, spilling most of it, but too angry now to pay it any mind.

"Put one of his sergeants in command. That's what they're there for, sir."

"I wouldn't trust Dynamite's sergeants to make me breakfast, much less command a platoon!" I shout, leaning over the table. "I'm pretty sure he picked most of them for comedy value rather than martial skill, and I know for a fact that Sergeant Beanstalk only got promoted by virtue of how many barrels of high explosives he could carry on his back at once."

Breakspear tilts his head, looking at me oddly.

"And yet you trust these same sergeants to see to his rehabilitation, sir?"

"'Trust' is the wrong word in this case," I say, holding up a hoof. "I'm making do with them for now, because the alternative is sending him to a therapist, and we don't have any left since Fool's Errand got locked up in that asylum."

Not that I blame him for trying to stab Candy in the neck, but if he wasn't going to do us the favour of succeeding, then he should've saved the effort and not cost us our last qualified counsellor.

Breakspear sighs. "I hope you know what you're doing, sir."

"Let's just assume I do for now. In the meantime, we've got a new task, and it's actually some good news for once. I had a little talk with Killjoy before I got here, and she's finally worked something out to deal with this barracks situation. Since she needed to reshuffle anyway to get Candy's lot away from the orphanage, the Mining District is officially not our problem anymore. Candy will be taking over this dump, and we've been reassigned to a more comfortable posting."

"Oh?" Breakspear visibly perks up for the first time in the conversation. "Do tell..."

WHAT NEXT?:
1. Take Dynamite's place and move the platoon to the Trade District.
2. Take Candy's place and move the platoon to the Industrial District.
3. Take Ulysses' place and move the platoon to the Financial District.

Author's Note:

My thanks go out to Oliver for editing this chapter while Posh was off on his yearly world tour of famous sex toy factories.

You are now technically reading a human in Equestria story. I apologise for nothing.

I'm once again going with a two week voting period for this chapter, so let's say voting ends... Monday, 8th March? Thereabouts?

For those in need of a reminder of Dragonfall's districts, the Trade District is the area near the city entrance where Agony picked up Redwood in chapter ten, and contains the marketplace, the Flying Golem pub, and the fortress where Killjoy is now based. The Industrial District is the run-down area where Agony got stabbed in chapter five, and contains the East Side Orphanage, numerous ruins, and Dragonfall Prison, though the prison is managed separately by Lieutenant Peacemaker. And the Financial District is an area we haven't been to yet, most notably containing the Fourth Bank of Dragonfall, where All Trades works.

Comments

[Fylifa]

3. Take Ulysses' place and move the platoon to the Financial District.

Mainly to see what new places Agony can get stabbed in and/or find more illegitimate children in.

[derpyvio]

Let's see, I'll go with option number one. For two reasons really, one being that it might actually lead to some potential plot development. What little of it that exists, at least. The second reason has mostly to do with that we may get more Explodey if he'll be informed that he's not in charge of that district anymore. I'm certain he'll be grateful and also continue his spiral towards complete madness.

[FanOfMostEverything]

Huh. I wasn't expecting this level of human presence. Or, you know, any. Neat.

The first choice presents the lovely option of guarding the entrance to the town, and thus offers a relatively simple exit strategy. Also a pub. We obviously can't trust Agony with either. Let's plumb the depths and see what else comes skittering into visibility. Option 3.

[Jaro45]

Option one ( 1 ).

[The Sleepless Beholder]

I love how a human suddenly appearing sounds absolutely believable in this chaotic, nightmare-inducing section of the world.

I vote option 1 in the hopes of more Killjoy, and more Agony annoying Killjoy

[DannyJ]

10689878

You know, trace it back far enough, and this is all indirectly your fault.

[FanOfMostEverything]

10690038
Hey, I just brought it to your attention. Don't shoot the messenger. Or let Agony anywhere near him, as the case may be.

[azrael2001]

Option 2

[Hymmnos]

Option 3. New area is new, and therefore interesting.

[Posh]

I shake it off and take a warm, bitter sip, reminding myself that my tenth therapist was right, that I am a brave, fearsome mercenary leader, and that I am only cute when I want to be, not when others make me be.

You’re projecting, aren’t you?

Option three.

[DannyJ]

10711140

No. Unlike Agony, I am cute 24/7.

[DannyJ]

Narrow win for option three this time. I hope you guys like THE STOCK MARKET.