Midnight Rail

by daOtterGuy

Call of the Wild IV

Scootaloo stepped away from the mountain and surveyed her surroundings. The rest of the team were in the final stretch of their descent and gingerly dismounting from the wall of plush.

The HasGal factory, or factories, were just as Scootaloo remembered: permeated by the thick scent of mildew and on the verge of collapsing. Claustrophobic alleys clogged with rotting toys swerved between squat square buildings made of all sharp edges and no decoration. They were burnt-out hollowed husks of what they once were, their tall chimney stacks that once spewed neverending streams of smog reduced to dead giants.

There was a rather morbid pleasure in standing in the corpse of something that used to be so strong.

“So, where’s Pip’s hideout?” Golding asked.

“In the main office.” Scotoaloo glanced out of the corner of her eye and noticed that the rest of the team had gathered nearby. “It's near Joy’s nest.” She smirked as some of the group wearily eyed the Deviant that could still be seen atop the mountain. “I’ll lead the way.”

She strode forward confidently, these alleys having once been her home turf. Winding through the passages of the husks, the faint scent of mildew lessened as they neared the heart of the HasGal factories.

Golding caught up to her, matching two of her hurried strides with one of his long ones. She suppressed a growl of annoyance at his presence, as she knew he wanted to grill her for information.

“So, how do you know him?” Golding asked.

“Who?” Scootaloo tried to feign ignorance.

“Pipsqueak.” Golding wouldn’t let her.

She sighed, ruffling her hair in irritation. “Do I hafta tell ya?”

“...No, but I thought it might help to talk about it since the Trauma is supposed to be tied to you in some way and he seems important to you.” He looked directly at her. “We don’t really know what to expect, so any information might be helpful.”

Trauma. Capital T. Something that may or may not be related to her trauma. Lower case T. Based on the name alone, she was pretty sure it was closer to the prior than the latter.

Leap had told them there were twelve Traumas, that each of them contained something they wanted inside (which Scootaloo didn’t know since she hadn’t bothered to ask and no one had told her), and that each were tied to one of the passengers of the Midnight Rail, which was why they had been given tickets to board in the first place.

She didn’t like any of it. They had no idea what to expect and, out of twelve passengers, she got chosen as the test guinea pig. Leap had not elaborated on why them, but the lack of knowledge grated on her nerves because of how little she felt that she was in control of her own decisions. It reminded her of Pipsqueak.

And that made her mad.

“He’s a stupid know-it-all,” Scootaloo said. “Always talkin’ down to ya like he knew somethin’ you didn’t… which he usually did.” She growled out the last word. “He took over as leader of the Smoke Stack Urchins just before I ended up down here and established the new base at the HasGal Factory. Made sure there was a place for all the factory kids to live. Thought it was cuz he cared, but looks like all that was a lie since now I know he’s been workin’ for Ole’ Moon Head.”

A bout of silence followed as Golding digested the information. That suited Scootaloo just fine as she felt all her old complaints about Pipsqueak flood back into her, her anger rising.

“...So he was protective?” Golding asked.

Scootaloo snorted. “Nah. He’s more like one of’em wizard types from old Equestria. Give ya all the things you need to succeed along with some cryptic nonsense with how to use’em, then he just sits back watches as you fumble your way through.”

“But you always eventually learned and came back better for it?”

“...Yeah,” Scootaloo relented. “But that doesn't mean he wasn’t a massive pain in the butt.”

Golding nodded. “Then to summarize, he’s smart, cryptic, and prefers to help people improve rather than just help them even when things get bad?”

Scootaloo nodded.

“...He sounds like the worst.”

She released a sharp bark of laughter. “Yeah, that he is. Biggest knob in the Stacks.” She scowled. “We’re here.”

‘Here’ was a squarish needle-shaped building that pierced through the upper smog layer above. It was made of square glass panels, all of which were either dirty or broken. The upper floors of the building were filled with toys fit to burst, the conglomeration resembling a cloud. The words ‘HasGal’ were imprinted in block letters just above the entrance.

“What’s with the nest?” Bradbury asked.

“That’s Joy’s home,” Scootaloo answered.

Several of the team flinched.

“I thought you said it was just ‘near’ Pipsqueak’s base?!” Salinger exclaimed.

“Above is ‘near’.” Scootaloo smirked. “Technically, I didn’t lie.”

Salinger looked ready to argue the point, but held his tongue.

“So, Pipsqueak’s in there?” Golding asked.

“Right in the lobby as he usually is,” Scootaloo replied.

“Ready to head in?”

No. “Yes.”

He nodded and waited on her lead. She took it.

The building grew in her view, becoming an even bigger presence as its shadow loomed past her. Rather than feeling nervous, Scootaloo instead felt her frustration grow as her thoughts turned to Pipsqueak.

He was reliable, but a pain. He was helpful, but a pain. He was one of her best friends, but a pain.

He got her entangled with the Midnight Rail without nearly enough warning. On top of that, the whole point was to get away from the Stacks. If she was just gonna end up right back where she started not even a week later, then why did she join the Rail? This question was made even worse since now she knew that he was Leap’s main scout. That meant that when he offered up the ticket, he already knew that she was the first passenger on the Trauma docket.

She slammed open the double doors of the building. They smashed into the walls on either side. She didn’t care. She had worked herself up into a bit of frenzy and was chomping at the bit to find the source of her ire.

Speaking of, said source was reclined on an office chair that had been placed amongst stacks of papers and office supplies made to look like a throne. Typical.

Pipsqueak sat hunched forward, his wiry body ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. He had always been the cautious type, and his tired brown eyes proved to Scootaloo that he slept as badly as he used to. He was in his early teens, like her, but looked more like an adult in his worn tan suit, minus the jacket and bright red tie that hung like a noose around his neck. He had messy brown hair that, knowing him, hadn’t been brushed even once, and had patchwork white and brown skin (he’d told her the word for it once before, but she couldn’t remember what it was).

Scootaloo continued her forward advance.

“Hey, London, how’s the—” Pipsqueak started to say.

Then Scootaloo punched him in his stupid face.

Comments

[The Sleepless Beholder]

“Hey, London, how’s the—” Pipsqueak started to say.

Then Scootaloo punched him in his stupid face.

Perfect. This meeting is promising to be quite fun.

[TCC56]

I find it curious he calls her 'London'.