• Published 23rd Feb 2013
  • 6,376 Views, 430 Comments

The Adventures of Trixie if Her Father Was a Badass Alien - totallynotabrony

After some irresponsible age spells, radiation exposure, and adoption, Trixie is...changed. Rated M for machine gun.

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Chapter 2

The tavern was quiet and dark, a good place to rest from the sunny afternoon or perhaps an ideal brooding spot. The customers’ reasons for visiting the establishment seemed to be split about evenly.

A blue unicorn mare with a silver mane sat in a booth far from the door. Her back was to the wall, and her pointed purple hat was pulled low. The matching cape she wore had been folded around her body, concealing her cutie mark and mostly disguising the enormous firearm crammed into the booth with her.

The machine gun did not raise any eyebrows, mostly because the other ponies did not know what it was. That was fine. Trixie didn’t want any unnecessary scrutiny.

A part of her still wanted to be the star of the show. Her crazy adopted father hadn’t seen anything wrong with it, as long as she did it in the most badass way possible. It had taken Trixie a while to figure out the meaning of that word, as with much of Valiant’s vocabulary.

She sipped her beverage quietly and did her best to stay invisible. That was a little difficult with her outfit, but Trixie recognized the value of clothing. Better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

That was a common theme with Valiant. He did a lot that he didn’t need to. Mostly for entertainment because he was bored, but there was also evidence of pre-planned preparedness. Trixie had learned a lot about him from Twilight during the time she was training in magic with the librarian, particularly that Valiant unfortunately had flaws. Still, she was able to look past them to see the better qualities. There were a lot of practical things he did.

Things like paranoia. Trixie had unfortunately made quite a few enemies during her radiation/rage fueled rampage across Equestria. Valiant too had plenty of ponies after him. Lying low and being watchful was the best way to stay out of trouble.

The door opened and a pair of unicorn stallions came in. They wore matching hats and vests. In fact, they appeared to be nearly identical. Trixie shifted slightly. Based on what she had heard, these would be the Flim Flam Brothers.

She pulled out a few small capsules fashioned from the raw medicine Zecora made. These pills kept further radiological mutation at bay. As long as Trixie took them and didn’t throw around too much magic, she would be fine.

There was no hard limit line for usage, however. Trixie’s body had been substantially altered, to the point that her magic was actually based on radiation. That was one reason she had left Ponyville-to protect everypony else.

She took a pill with her drink, finishing the glass. Leaving enough enough bits to cover it on the table, Trixie mounted her skateboard and rolled out the front door.

The wheels on the board had no trouble with smooth surfaces and only experienced roughness on the most uneven cobblestones. Dirt was another matter, making the skateboard troublesome to use effectively. Trixie often found herself walking.

The small city of Whinnypeg was to Equestria’s north. It had taken a reasonably long trip to get there. Trixie didn’t mind. She had nothing better to do. The oil stock Valiant had left her provided a steady income. She could have spent more, but didn’t want to appear irresponsible if he came back. When he came back, she reminded herself.

Trixie glanced sideways at a large contraption that sat outside the tavern. Fancily-painted letters indicated that it was a Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. The Flim Flam Brothers came out and saw her looking at the machine.

The stallions walked over to Trixie wearing broad grins. As they reached her, the two of them broke into song.

Howdy hi, howdy ho,

We’re going to give you a show.

I’m Flim, he’s Flam, and we’d really like to know…

Have you ever seen our show?

The two broke into an associated dance and kept singing.

Our show is composed of our favorite mix.

A lot to choose from, our favorite picks!

I’m Flam, he’s Flim, and we’ve got our tricks!

Have you ever seen our di-

Trixie cut them off. “Are you trying to have sex with me?”

Their rhythm broken, the two stallions deflated somewhat. “Er, yeah, that was sort of the idea,” admitted Flim.

“You aren’t supposed to say it!” chastised Flam. He turned back to Trixie. “How did you know?”

“I used to work in show biz myself.” The mare cleared her throat and put on a fancy lit. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

“Dear Celestia, run!” screamed Flim in terror. His brother was right behind him. They fled down the street, forgetting about their machine.

“Well that was weird,” murmured Trixie to herself. She knew her reputation had spread somewhat during her little radiological scorned-mare-with-mutant-superpowers period, but hadn’t realized that common showponies had heard of her.

Another realization came to her. She wasn't sure she could ever have sex again, at least not without seriously harming her partner. While Valiant might not be enthusiastic about himself in a relationship with a pony, Trixe was fairly sure he would not do more than mildy terrorize any stallion she brought home.

Trixie kicked her skateboard the other direction, deciding that maybe she would head out of town. A cloaked pony stepped into her path before she reached city limits, however.

Dragging her hoof to stop, Trixie stared at the newcomer. The unicorn mare was grey in color, but with a tangle of multicolored mane that looked like ten kinds of cotton candy in a blender. Her cloak was pink and decorated with orange starbursts, not a complementary color scheme to its wearer.

Trixie opened her mouth to ask the fashion-impaired pony why she was standing in the middle of the road, but the grey mare cut her off. “Did I just hear you called the Great and Powerful Trixie? I’ve been waiting to meet you. I heard you were some sort of freakshow for a while, but you look rather ordinary to me.”

Her tone was not one of pleasant conversation. Sensing oncoming conflict, Trixie shifted her gun slightly and said, “Just Trixie.”

“Regardless, I challenge you to a magic duel! If I win, then I claim all your showmare territory and fanbase.”

“I don’t think you really understand how the life of a traveling magician works. Anyway, I don’t do that anymore. Go bother somepony else.” Trixie turned her skateboard to go around the persistent pony but was blocked again.

This time, the mare came so close there was nothing but Trixie’s sunglasses separating the two of them. “You and me. Magic duel.”

“The last time I was in a magic duel, all of Ponyville was held hostage and nearly destroyed by combat robots,” said Trixie, diplomatically taking a step backwards. “If you were nearly powerful enough to match that, I would have heard of you.”

“I’m an up-and-comer,” said the grey mare. “You’d better know my name. Starburst. Memorize it.”

“Uh huh.” Trixie thought for a moment. “If I agree to a magic duel and forfeit, will you leave me alone?”

“Never!” Starburst’s horn glowed and small sparks of magic began to build as she generated a complex spell. Trixie, though powerful in her own right, was no Twilight Sparkle and couldn’t tell what the spell would do just by sensing it.

“Prepare to be amazed!” announced Starburst as she got closer to release. She had begun to pant and closed her eyes in concentration, approaching climax. Her horn was charged and full to bursting with a load of magic just waiting to be expelled. To avoid any further sex-related puns, Trixie whacked her in the face with the M60’s considerable bulk. Starburst dropped to the ground, out cold.

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Amateur.”

She rolled the skateboard away and out of town. Her travel the rest of the day went well, and Trixie made camp on a grassy embankment beside the river near Fort Horse. Her style of camping saved money and kept her out of cities. She was still worried about anything harmful that might happen to innocent ponies if she spent too long around them.

During her performance days, Trixie lived in a wagon. While primitive, it wasn’t quite as bad as sleeping under her cloak with nothing but a gun, a skateboard, some pills, and a supply of bits to her name. Still, it felt liberating, and breaking the mindset that she had to stay near civilization freed Trixie to travel wherever she wished.

A wagon train rolled through in the morning, waking Trixie. She had gotten a decent sleep so the interruption was not irritating. She trotted beside one of the wagons, asking the driver where the convoy was going.

“Just down the road to Fort Horse,” he replied. “We have a problem, though. Somepony messed up the shipment and all we’re carrying is apples. We need applesauce!”

Trixie thought for a moment. “I might be able to help you.”

She slung the M60 off her back and checked the feed tray and ammunition. The other wagon drivers pulled up and curiously watched her work over the strange device.

“Stand back and cover your ears,” advised Trixie. She lifted the cover on the first wagon, spotting the pile of apples it contained. After careful mental calculations to determine the best angle for the machine gun barrel, she pulled the trigger.

The hammer of bullets firing was blocked by a hearing-protection spell Trixie had cast. She carefully kept the spent brass casings from falling into the wagons, which were quickly filling up with applesauce rather than apples.

As the end of the ammunition belt ran through the M60, the firing stopped. All the fruit had been satisfactorily converted into paste. Trixie stowed the empty casings, knowing she would have to reload them.

The wagon ponies were happy. They offered Trixie all the all-natural, fresh-made applesauce she could eat. It made for a healthy if slightly bland breakfast.

“What does that thing use to make applesauce?” asked one of the ponies.

Trixie smiled. “Seven-six-two millimeter, full metal jacket.”

She bid them goodbye and headed toward Fort Horse. Surely there had to be somewhere in town she could find supplies to create fresh cartridges. Tracer bullets were more difficult to manufacture than regular ones. Trixie had a spare ammo belt, but that was only one hundred more rounds.

Fort Horse was a little dry and dusty. The river that could have provided water to green things up was set in a canyon that prevented the moisture from spreading very far. The town wasn’t a desert, however. Its location in the southwest was ideal for a trading post for the surrounding area.

The wind ruffled Trixie’s cape a little as she rolled down the street. She found various shops selling copper sheeting, lead, and gunpowder. Party cannons were not common, but the powder to fire them had to come from somewhere. Trixie understood that the stuff was also used for blasting in mining operations.

Far down the street, Trixie spotted a flash of pink. She lowered her sunglasses, staring at the unattractively-attired Starburst. The other unicorn’s appearance could have been coincidence, but Trixie was doubtful. She turned and strode into a back alley to conceal herself from view before making her way out of town.

In the bluffs overlooking the canyon, Trixie sat and built a small fire from scattered flammables she was able to find. While she might have been able to forge bullets with magic alone, heat made the process much easier, softening the materials.

Trixie formed the slugs of lead, wrapping them in bright copper jackets. Along with a carefully measured amount of gunpowder, she inserted them into the brass casings. It took a little work to get the primers refurbished, carefully ensuring that they would ignite the powder when struck.

Satisfied with her work, Trixie put the new cartridges into a belt and packed it up for when she needed it. She mounted her skateboard and toured close to the edge of the canyon, looking at the river far below. Her thoughts touched on the Flim Flam Brothers and their frightened reaction, but mostly she was concerned with Starburst. The grey mare had seemed like a pushover, but it was not a good idea to pass judgment based on appearance alone.

Trixie’s thoughts shifted again as she studied the walls of the canyon. I bet I could get a sick grind off those rocks.