Bulletproof Mirage

by PaulAsaran

Another Day, Another Airship

“I can’t believe he agreed to this.”

Rarity was paler than usual, though her face otherwise betrayed nothing about her growing anxiety. “I can’t believe I’m going to get on another one of these things.”

They were leading Ophelia and Ray Jr. into a hangar bay on the edge of Manehattan, wherein there hovered four small airships. They were sleek things, designed for speed and maneuverability. ‘Produce Runners’, the chancellor had called them, apparently owned and operated by some Manehattan agricultural family for the purpose of delivering fruits and vegetables to far off places swiftly. Highly specialized and only intended to be used by the uber-wealthy, but Neighsay was a pony who could pull strings.

Rarity hadn’t asked for these specifically, only for something that could catch up with Autumn’s ship. Mirage was pretty sure the only reason he agreed so readily and gave them one of these was so as to get them out of his house and city as quickly as equinely possible.

The idea of flying ahead had come to mind, but she didn’t bother to voice the idea. She might be an alicorn, but she was new to Sunburnt Equestria. What good was speed when you didn’t know where you were going?

They approached the nearest airship, which bore the name Highwind in gold lettering across its wooden bow. The ship couldn’t have been more than forty-five feet in length and perhaps fifteen in width. It was held a dozen feet above the dirt by an envelope that was at least a third longer than the ship itself. A pair of ‘wings’ held two propellers each to a side. The wood on the hull was painted an unflattering pale green. A rope ladder was already extended to the ground on the ship’s side, but there was also a rear cargo hatch that was opened to a ramp in the back of the hangar.

By unspoken consensus, they made for the cargo hatch. The space there was wide enough for their two lizards to stand side by side with room for their riders beside them. It had to have been twenty feet long, which meant there couldn’t be a lot of room for pony habitation in the front half of the ship. Mirage wondered how cramped things would be in there.

Sitting at the front of the cargo deck on a large bag was an earth pony with a coat so dark red it was almost black and a mane and tail that was a much lighter shade. She was adorned in sleeveless blue overalls and a black shirt, and stood promptly when the two mares approached. “Ladies,” the mare said in the kind of gruff tone that reminded Mirage of Applejack on a bad day. She even had the accent. “Y’all must be the special guests what shoehorned us into this venture.” Scratch that, her accent was actually a little stronger than AJ’s.

“Rarity Belle and Sunset Shimmer.” Rarity pulled some papers from Ophelia’s pack and set them in the mare’s expectant hand. “I believe you’ll find everything in order.”

The mare studied the paper for all of three seconds before shrugging and tossing them aside. “Seems legit. Name’s Bosun Berry, boatswain. Captain’s up top getting things ready. Should be almost done by now.” She shook Rarity’s hand and, judging by how tense the unicorn’s face grew, had an iron grip. “It’ll just be the four of us. We usually have a crew of four, but you got us on short notice and two of our boys are astray. Young stallions, a week’s shore leave, just got paid. Luna knows where they are.”

She went to shake Mirage’s hand, and yeah, she had an strong grip. Luckily, in this world she could match it. Something flashed across Bosun Berry’s eyes – respect, perhaps – as they released the shake, and Mirage couldn’t help feeling a measure of pride.

“We’re eager to get going,” she said, then gestured behind her with her thumb. “Just need to get these two situated.”

Eyeing Ophelia and Ray Jr., Bosun Berry said, “This boat’s meant to haul produce, not lizards. Ain’t got any stables. Still, I betcha we can make do. Y’all head upstairs now, I’ll see to our scaly cargo.”

Ophelia shuffled from claw to claw and let out a quiet trill, prompting Rarity to rub at her scales and give her a nuzzle on the cheek. “I know, sweetie, I don’t like it either. I promise, it won’t be like last time.” The big lizard made a rumbling noise that sounded almost like a purr and rested her head on Rarity’s shoulder.

Mirage watched the scene with casual amusement. She tried to imagine her own Rarity cooing over a giant lizard like that. The idea was… entertaining. That said, she somewhat envied the bond between those two. It was no wonder the mare had been so determined to rescue her before. She cast a look at Ray Jr., who returned the look with a bored expression. “You good?”

He continued to stare as if to say ‘Don’t coddle me.’ then, with a heavy thump, dropped to his belly and began cleaning his frills with a lone claw.

“Fair enough.” Grinning, Mirage made for the door at the front of the hold. “I’m going to go talk to the captain.”

Not looking back, Rarity waved her off. “Yes, you do that. I’m going to stay with Ophelia and make sure we’re— She’s going to be alright during liftoff.”

That. That right there. That’s what made Mirage just a little jealous. Rarity could take comfort in Ophelia and vice versa. She wondered how long they’d been riding together. Mirage was tempted to try and call Twilight again, but she knew by now that it was a useless endeavor. What she wouldn’t give for just a taste of home right now…

Pushing such depressing thoughts away, she pressed on into the ship’s interior. There was a cramped hallway that she barely fit in, with sliding doors on either side. All were open, and revealed living quarters. Surprisingly, each room was designed for only one occupant, although it was every bit as small as she’d expected; a bunk set high over a work desk, both beside a locker, a narrow bookshelf over a viewing port, and a bare wall opposite the bed and desk. Mirage had seen closets with more space, but at least there was the illusion of privacy. Also, she was now glad that the other two crewmembers weren’t joining them.

At the end of the hallway was a larger room that was clearly intended as a kitchen and common area, with one corner taken up by a closet-like space that a sign told her was the restroom. Going by its small size, Mirage seriously questioned if a pegasus’s wings would fit in there, much less her own. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d have to fly to the ground or a nearby cloud to do her business on this trip. Then again, her mortal form probably would be fine. Maybe she should sleep like that tonight.

Poor Rarity. Not a single shower or bathtub to be seen.

A set of stairs so steep they might as well be a ladder led to the deck, coming out at the fore right beside a small cabin. Mirage stepped aside to peer through the door and found an earth pony in what she could best think of as a brown navy uniform. His coat was a yellow that reminded her a lot of Fluttershy. He looked up from the console he’d been staring at and, upon seeing her, flashed a smile that was missing a tooth. “Ah, you must be my passengers. Welcome aboard the Highwind. Captain Birchleaf Pear, at your service.” He wasted no time shaking Mirage’s hand, all smiles and bubbly energy.

She couldn’t help but return the expression. “Sunset Shimmer, or Mirage if you prefer. Sorry for interrupting your shoreleave.”

“Bah! Shoreleave. Who needs shoreleave? Madame, I live for this job.” He brushed his wavy red bangs from his face and gestured for her to join him in the cabin. “Where would I be on shoreleave? Back at home with those pompous seed counters at the Pear Estate. Nothing but ‘crop yields’ this and ‘annual surplus’ that and a bunch of rot about beating the Apples again this year. Bunch of phooey. This—” he slapped the hard wood of the ship’s wheel “–is where I belong.”

Mirage was outright grinning by now. She was going to enjoy this guy’s company, she could already tell. “You must be the life of the family reunions.” She settled on the stool he gestured to, careful to keep her wings from hitting any of the instruments.

“Eh, they put up with me,” he said, running his hand lovingly along the wheel. His expression turned soft, perhaps even adoring. Mirage was hard pressed to guess whether it was intended for his family or the ship. “I ain’t the farming type, but they love me anyway. Mostly because I’m the one they trust most to haul their urgent cargo wherever they need it at a moment’s notice.” He looked towards the door as if expecting something. “Wasn’t there meant to be two of you?”

“Rarity’s in the hold with the dust devils,” Sunset explained. “The last airship she flew on came to a, er... abrupt landing. And fiery. Very aggressive, if you get my drift.” She awkwardly avoided mentioning exactly why that was the case. “She wanted to make sure her lizard stayed calm on liftoff.”

“Fair enough.” Captain Birchleaf perked up, ears and all. “What are we waiting around for? We got the food to last us a week’s worth of travel, and Bosun’s a fine ship’s cook.”

“I thought she was the boatswain?”

He laughed and reached for a blue gem embedded in the console by the wheel. “Miss Shimmer, we’re a crew of four. We all got to learn to be multi-talented.” He pressing two fingers to the gem, which shifted to a green color. “Bosun. You got things secure down there?”

A moment later Bosun’s voice rose from the gem itself, a slight echo making her a little hard for Mirage to understand. “Ready as we’ll ever be. We can cast off at any time.”

“Then tell our passenger down there to get ready, because I’m starting the engines.” Captain Birchleaf flicked a few switches and touched the gem again. “Chuck Wagon, this is Highwind. We’re launching. Guide us out.”

“Yes, sir. Starspeed, Highwind.”

“You ever fly an airship, missy?” The captain set one hand on the wheel and another on a lever to his right. Out ahead of the ship walked a pegasus carrying a pair of triangular flags.

“First time ever being on one,” she admitted, hoping he wasn’t about to suggest what she thought he was.

“That’s fine, that’s fine.” He pointed to the console she was sitting at. “See those two gauges side by side, in the same window? Got red meters.”

Yep, it was going where she feared. But then, they were down two crewmen. She examined the console, quickly finding what she thought he was talking about. “Does it read ‘free space’ on bottom?”

“That’s the one.” He pushed the lever forward lightly and the four propellers hummed to life. They were loud, but not near as much as she had expected. With a light rocking motion, the airship moved forward. “Just keep an eye on them. If either one falls below fifteen, let me know which one.”

The pegasus out front began waving their flags, gradually guiding the Highwind out of the hangar. Mirage did as instructed and kept watch, soon realizing that the two gauges were intended to let them know if they were getting too close to something on either side. She didn’t have to say a word, save to reassure the captain they were fine whenever he asked, and soon they were out in the open. The glaring sunlight was less so in the cabin, the windows tinted to block the worst of its rays.

The communication gem flashed green. “Chuck Wagon to Highwind, you’re in the clear for altitude. Make heading one-sixty until clear of the city, then you’re on your way.”

A quick press of the gem. “Highwind confirms. Until next time, Chuck Wagon.”

Mirage eyeballed the gem. “Is that his actual name or just a callsign?”

He shrugged. “Actual name.” He fiddled with a knob on the side of the lever he was using to determine velocity, and the airship began to ascend. “It’ll take about twenty minutes for us to clear the city airspace, then we’re off. Which reminds me: where exactly are we taking this dingy?”

Mirage blinked at the query. Shouldn’t he already know that? What kind of pilot lifts off without a destination in mind? Maybe this was a matter of ‘different world, different rules’. That or this whole ride was so last minute that there had been no time. Shaking off her uncertainty, she answered, “Rarity would know the details better than me, but she did give me a name.

“Does ‘Little Longhorn’ mean anything to you?”

---

Mirage lay on her back, watching the sky and few clouds above pass by as the Highwind made its way to Little Longhorn. She felt the air on her mane, ruffling around her horn.

She wasn't technically supposed to be on the roof of the cabin. There were no handrails, no security fences to keep people safe in case of an accident up there, unlike at the deck level. But she wasn't too worried. When she had been transported to this world, just like crossing the magical mirror, she had emerged as an alicorn, making her even stronger, more resilient, more powerful.

"And more of an idiot," she muttered, feeling a cold grip in her heart. She sighed, her thoughts shying away from the issue at hand until she forced herself to admit that she was scared. Not of this world, but of herself.

Playing a video game, people seldom got hurt. Unless there were some extreme circumstances. Like some megalomaniac frying the player's brains with microwaves, or a twisted genius using her as a battery for his own mad schemes, or idiots like her who could physically become part of certain worlds. But, outside of crazy stuff like that, a stray bullet or grenade fragments were nothing to worry about.

Entire raids could take place with fire, explosions, blunt force trauma, and other kinds of body harm and everyone else would shake it off. Either a quick infusion of healing items or, worst case, respawning in perfect condition back in Glocken. Before here, the only one she really needed to worry about was herself, as the one person in there that could really get killed (and sort of had been, once).

But the latest encounter had shoved in her face just how frail people… ponies… were here. Rarity was the toughest cookie she had ever met, so good at all of this that Mirage had been tempted more than once to ask for her RL contact before reminding herself that this was not a game. And yet, it was obvious now that hadn't really taken in as she had hoped.

Tempest had been the type of personality that brought back her gamer instincts. Brash, fearless, kind of oblivious, and wanting to test her strength against an obviously superior opponent. It was the kind of gamer she'd always have fun fighting. At that moment – with things having gone so well so far – she had dropped her already questionable guard and embraced the chaos, never giving a second thought of how she was putting Rarity in danger by doing so.

Of course she had felt the shots, and of course she had been aware that she herself could've died. But she was used to worrying only about herself. She had, for a solid moment, forgotten that Rarity was relying on her. She hadn't tossed the grenades, but provoking Tempest had carried with it all the weight of provoking a n00b into messing up in her mind.

The mental image of Rarity in such a sorry state made her wince and close her eyes.

It was her fault. There was no misplaced blame there. She had been baited, and willingly taken the bait because she had wanted to let loose and fuck the consequences. And then the consequences had been more than she had been expecting to deal with. Her loss of control and almost brutal murder of Tempest as a result was a reminder that she was out of place here, and that she could cause much more damage than she had even been aware of.

What really struck her was the… savagery of her actions. The guilt-fueled transformation into a murder machine.

If Rarity had died because of her actions, who would have stopped her from ripping apart the entire estate to hunt down the chancellor? Who would have stopped her from sowing through the police like a grim reaper after his grim harvest? Each unknown face attacking her would have just pushed her more and more and more into a frenzy. It hadn't been calculated at all. She had no control. She had allowed the magic to blaze through her, the exact thing she had been terrified of happening in her world outside of the game.

She took a deep breath. "We're finding a way for me to go home. It'll be alright. I'll talk to Isekai and she'll… she'll know what to do."

Sure, Sunset. Make it another mare's problem.

The truth was that she couldn't trust herself here. Not really. A single mistake now could doom Rarity and anyone else around her. It was like being stuck back in that short period of time between Gun Gale and Canterlot High where she couldn't trust her magic to not burst out and corrupt her.

She ran her hands down her face and then just let her arms fall, extended, to her sides as she returned to staring at the sky as if it held the answers. "I can't risk it. I can't."

She'd have to second-guess all of her decisions now. But that was better than losing Rarity.

“You look like your best friend just died.”

Mirage stiffened for a second before realizing that the voice belonged to Rarity. She tried to relax her posture a bit before sitting up and turning to the voice. The mare in question looked up at her from near the ship’s cabin. Very near, her back pressed to the wall and one hand on a rail. Though she was trying to make it look like a casual wall-lean, the way her widened eyes kept shifting over to the rail-less edge of the ship was a dead giveaway.

Mirage eyed the clearly fearful mare from her spot atop the cabin. “What are you doing up here?”

Rarity’s smile was strained. “Bosun suggested I, um, ‘get some air’.”

With a slight smile, Mirage asked, “You got enough yet?”

“Yes. Yes, I think I have.” Without another word, the gunslinger moved back below decks. By the way she moved, she couldn’t get there fast enough. It seemed even the great Bulletproof Heart had things she wasn’t prepared to face.

Mirage chuckled even as she felt guilty. She had wings. She’d be fine. Come to think of it, none of the rest of the crew did. She supposed they were just used to it.

You look like your best friend just died.

Was that how she looked? It must have been a pitiable appearance for the tactful Rarity to say so despite being up here. She’d probably wanted to talk about it. Which meant that if she went down that stair… ladder… thing the mare would likely be waiting for her. No, she’d definitely be there, hoping to be a friend to her. Mirage wasn’t sure she wanted or needed a friend right now. Then again, avoiding Rarity would make things look worse. And if she was half as stubborn as the other Rarities she knew, there’d be no escaping her. Especially on a ship this small.

To talk or not to talk? That was the question.

She almost flew off. The option was staring her in the face. Just flap her wings and go for a fly, keeping just far enough away she couldn’t see or hear anypony on the Highwind. Come back at night when everypony was asleep. Such a tempting thought. Such a cowardly one, too. And really, did she expect it to work against Rarity? So, heaving a sigh, she climbed down the ladder and into the ship’s mess.

Rarity was at the small table carefully making repairs to her jacket. She spared Mirage only a glance, her needle and thread not pausing for an instant. Not a word was offered. Even so, Mirage tucked her wings in tight and settled on the bolted-down chair to the unicorn’s left.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes felt like hours. She tried not to fidget as she waited for her companion to start the conversation. And yet Rarity just kept stitching up that old, beat-up jacket. Was this some kind of mental torture? A trick to lull her into a sense of ease? If she tried to leave, would Rarity choose that exact moment to speak? Mirage needed an icebreaker.

Luckily, one was right in front of her. “Why are you repairing that?”

Rarity gave her a look as if she’d just asked if the sun was hot. “Because it has holes.” She switched to a fresh rip and selected a different thread.

Frowning, Mirage eyed the jacket. It didn’t seem to be special in any way. It was just a jacket. “Why not get a new one?”

“Many reasons,” the former seamstress replied, her tone ever-patient. “Sentimental value, primarily. It was a gift, its previous owner is dead, it’s seen me through some of my worst fights. Take your pick.”

“Oh.” What was she supposed to say to that? “Okay.” Probably not that.

Probably not what came next, either. “Best friend just died, huh?”

Rarity didn’t look up. She hardly reacted at all. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright, then.”

She said that, and yet when Rarity looked at her from the corner of her eye there was a clear expectation. It said, with shocking clarity, that she knew better. Mirage felt played, because once those eyes moved away she knew for certain that she was going to talk and that Rarity had, somehow, made it happen. Not that she begrudged the mare that fact. If anything, she felt relieved.

“I don’t know if I should keep fighting.”

The needle stopped. “Ah.” Still staring at the jacket, her lips turned in a sad smile, Rarity muttered, “We’re at that point, then.”

Mirage blinked. “That point?”

Rarity nodded, setting down her needle and thread and offering her full attention. “That point where you question if fighting has been a big mistake. Where you wonder if it wouldn’t be safer for everypony involved if you just quit.”

Wow, aiming right for the heart. Mirage folded her hands on the table and asked, “Isn’t it, though?”

With prim confidence, Rarity replied, “Not even remotely.”

Was the mare trying to give her whiplash from all the unexpected answers? “How could you say that? You saw what I did back there.” She closed her eyes and saw the bloody and broken face of Tempest. She held onto the sight, wanting to keep it firmly in place as a reminder. “I can’t go uncorked like that again.”

Rarity hummed and went back to her sewing. “Yes, I remember. It was rather painful.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

The haughty primness came back in a flash. “I was the one who got hurt, I am the one who decides if it is fine. And I say it is.”

She didn’t understand. How could she? Mirage looked away with a scowl. “Try telling that to Tempest and Neighsay.”

To this Rarity shrugged. “Whether they forgive you is entirely on them.”

Oh, how logical and pleasant it sounded. Mirage sighed and considered going on that flight after all. Just a quick climb up the stairs and then she’d be free from this conversation that clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

Just as she was about to commit, however, Rarity spoke once more. “There were times when I considered not being the Bulletproof Heart. In truth, the first few seasons were filled with little more than an utter hatred for this life.” She paused as if considering something, but soon went back to her repair work. “And, to be fair, I still would rather be a clothier. But then what would have happened?”

She seemed to be waiting for Mirage to respond. The alicorn had no idea where Rarity was going with this though. “You’d be making clothes?”

“Well,” Rarity continued casually, “I’d be dead for starters, clearly not an improvement to my current situation. I would not have met Ophelia, or A.K. Yearling, or Fluttershy, or any of a number of ponies. A corrupt banker would have gotten away with land fraud. A sheriff would be dead. My sister and best friend would be slaves. I’d have lost both my parents instead of j-just one.” A beat. Rarity’s eyes grew moist, but she shook whatever emotion she was feeling away and continued. “The Flaming Vermilion would still be out there, murdering scores of innocents to feed her fury. Several ponies would still be imprisoned at Ponyville. Really, I could keep going.”

Mirage rolled her eyes. She could act calm and serene all she wanted, gloating was gloating. Even across dimensions, there were some things that never changed. “I get it, you’re amazing.”

Rarity’s fist banged the top of the table, not hard, but forceful enough to make her jump. Azure eyes pierced Mirage, making her shrink in her chair. “I don’t want to be amazing. I want to make ponies beautiful through my tools of preference, those being needle and thread.” She sucked down a long, slow breath and turned back to her work. “But no matter what I think about it, I have a gift. It may not be fashion, but it helps ponies regardless. The most selfish thing a pony can do is keep their gifts to themselves.”

Mirage kept her back pressed against her chair, still recovering from the sudden aggression. Seeing that Rarity was apparently done, she slowly relaxed. How odd that a simple, mortal pony could instill fear in an alicorn with such ease. Not that Mirage thought she was immortal, but still… “So, what? You’re saying I have a gift?”

Never taking her eyes off her jacket, Rarity cocked her head and asked, “Are you suggesting you don’t?”

“Well, no.” Funny, Mirage would have been boasting if this were GGO. Now she just felt lost. “But things are different. I have to control myself in this world, and… I’m not sure if I can.” Admitting that felt like she were kicking herself. She was tempted to grab her phone and look at Luna’s picture, but resisted. It had run out of power anyway.

Things got quiet after that. Rarity kept sewing, and Mirage kept watching. It wasn’t the most interesting scene, but she didn’t want to leave. It somehow felt like the conversation wasn’t over, even as the silence between them lingered for several minutes. Mirage let her ears rotate about her head, picking up the sounds of the airship’s engines, the rattling of plates in the cabinet, the barely audible ruffle of fabric.

Rarity finished her work and began putting away her sewing kit. Once the jacket was back on her shoulders, she met Mirage’s curious gaze. “There’s you to consider as well.”

Mirage blinked, not sure what that was supposed to mean. She chose not to answer, preferring to let her confusion show in her expression.

“The things this world’s Sunset went through are…” Rarity pursed her lips, a moment of revulsion passing through her features. “Traumatic. When I found her, she was a shell of a pony. Just talking to her could be a little heartbreaking, because I knew that there was something stronger trapped inside that meek form. I wanted to see the real Sunset Shimmer break free. I thought, for a brief time, that she wouldn’t.”

She reached out to grasp Mirage’s arm. A warm smile decorated her face. “But then she did. She broke free, she acted out, and it was one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever seen.”

Mirage shivered at the mare’s touch, recalling for just a moment that this version of Rarity was nothing short of a bombshell. “I’m not her.”

“No. But I see similarities.” With that, Rarity stood and stepped to the hall. “More than enough of them to have faith that when the time comes, you will command yourself with dignity, skill, and good will.” And then she left, presumably off to spend more time with the lizards.

In a way, Mirage appreciated what Rarity had been trying to do. That didn’t change facts. She wasn’t Isekai Sunset. She wasn’t this local Sunset who had somehow impressed the mare. She was a powerful but fallible young woman being led around on some adventure she’d never wanted any part of. The excitement she often craved didn’t come with real world consequences, and she couldn’t back away from this with the press of a few buttons. Twilight wasn’t around to monitor her and make sure she could get out safely. She shouldn’t even be this overpowered in a real world.

Mirage had already saved her world. Why did she have to be a hero in this one?

Come to think of it, that was a wholly selfish and arrogant assertion. Maybe she could justify it back home, but she wasn’t a hero here. Not like Rarity. She had skills and an unnatural biology, but she lacked Rarity’s… maturity.

With a heavy sigh, Mirage realized that her thoughts were going in circles. She questioned a lot of what Rarity had just told her, but she understood one thing: all this thinking? Not helping. What really mattered now, above and beyond her ever-present sense of unease, was getting home. Then she could wrap herself around Luna until the guilt was only a background noise. And maybe put a grenade in Twilight’s computer for good measure.

Mind made up, she climbed back up the ladder and opened the door to the Highwind’s cockpit. “Hey, Captain. How long before we hit Little Longhorn?”

Comfortable in his chair, Captain Birchleaf didn’t look up from the book he was reading save to glance at some indicators on the panel before him. “Should get there around tomorrow evening.”

Far too long. With her mercurial emotions, Mirage expected she’d explode before they got there. Time to take that flight after all. “This thing got an airhorn?”

“Thing?” He shot her a disdainful look, but didn’t let it linger. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going for a fly. Sound off if you need me.” She’d leapt off the airship before he had a chance to respond, wings opening wide to catch air and send her gliding over the plains. The exhilaration of flight would make for a fine distraction from the urge to go hunting for kirin.

Author's Note:

I don't think there's a single chapter in this story that better showcases the difference between my own and WD's writing than this one.

Comments

[Admiral Q Ponyform]

Rarity again gets it. Sunset, look at superman. If your adopted world has a superman show need to look up is Cardboard speech