Racer And The Geek

by kalash93

Daytime

Thanks to Sayer, MrSing, Nahmala, and La Barata for their help.

Chapter 8: Daytime

The wolf lunged for the throat of the pony soldier, jaws stretched wide. The pony stood there as his foe hurtled towards him. Then, just at the very last second, he ducked out of the way as he shot out his hoof and struck the wolf soldier in the throat. With a squeal of pain, the wolf was pinned to the dusty, rocky, ground, and the pony threw himself on top, clamping down on the airway and kicking the beast viciously in the ribs. Crack. The bones gave way and the wolf writhed, howling in agony, even as it was being strangled. Its gaping jaws stopped snapping for just a second. The pony seized the opportunity to draw his knife, pull back his arm, and stab. The wolf’s eyes widened when it saw the deadly steel. Impact! The blade sank through the tender flesh of the belly. Grunting with exertion, the pony jerked upwards, slitting open the entire abdomen, causing the wolf to almost scream, thrashing like a snake as its life’s blood spilled out onto the hilltop. Pulling out, the pony switched to a reverse grip and swung at the wolf’s throat! The blade went in. The pony pulled the blade outwards, ripping open the throat, unleashing a torrent of spurting red blood that got everywhere; on the ground, on the wolf, on the uniform, and on his face.

Sunny Breeze awoke with a shudder. He rubbed his face with his hooves, trying to physically scrub away the memories and sensations. He could feel the hot, wet, sticky blood on him still, even years after that battle on Hill 20. He felt all the sensations, still heard all the sounds, smelled the rancid odor of death mixed with burnt powder and sweat, tasted his dry, bleeding, cotton mouth, and saw the ghosts every day of his life. Groaning, he forced himself out of bed and looked out at an day. Yawning, he remembered that he had three dates today. The first was with Zecora. The second was with Fluttershy. He’d intended to also meet with Faraday, but she’d had to reschedule. He’d pretty much be meeting them all more or less one day at a time, and Zecora was today Zecora… something about her had seemed off at their meeting. There was something that just made him uneasy and stirred something in the faint reaches of his memory he did not find pleasant. At least Fluttershy wouldn’t be too hard to deal with, hopefully. And thinking of her, he recalled her mangled wing. It reminded him of some injured pegasi from the war, their eyes distant and glazed, knowing that they’d likely never fly well again. However, her eyes had somehow been different, but no less sad.

All that would have to wait until after work. Sunny put on his usual ensemble of Afghneighnka, balaclava, telnyashka, and FAL. The commute was the same as ever and he arrived just in time for the manager and Shades to turn up. Goggles was already there and Keffiyeh would take Telny’s place at the change.

The morning shift was long and boring. Goggles seemed to have learned his lessons from their earlier meetings. Well, he’d mostly gotten better, but at least he put on a good semblance of professionalism this time. Perhaps those extra shifts on monitor duty were doing some good after all. Goggles asked Sunny: “Telny, did you hear about the bank robbery in Clopham?”

Surprised, Sunny jumped and turned to face the other gunpony. “Negative, Goggles. Why? Is there something I ought to know?”

“Well, Clopham is not that far from here, and over the course of recent months, there have been significantly more bandit incidents than usual. Just thought you’d like to know…”

“Thanks for telling me, Goggles. I’ll take that under advisement in case if I see anything suspicious. And speaking of suspicious, those three ponies have been around the bank thrice today and they keep on eyeing us. They were also here last week. The pegasus took a long time to open a checking account, and another one inquired about getting a security job. She claimed to be ex Afghneighnistan Protectorate Army and qualified on the M16. The last one just sits on that park bench over there and stays there all day alternately reading and either writing or drawing.”

“About whom are you speaking?”

“Over by the chestnut tree in front of the fountain.” Sunny pointed with his hoof towards a trio of ponies. One was a pegasus. One was a unicorn. One was an earth pony. They were all easy to spot on account of being more heavily dressed than the weather required, wearing long clothes, sunglasses, and hats. “Have you yet informed Keffiyeh?”

Goggles blinked for a second. Then he understood. “Affirmative; I made the supervisor aware of the trend at my first opportunity.”

“Good. Do the same about this lot. My shift gets ends at midday; I’m going to try something then if they haven’t yet scarpered.”

“Do you mean confront, Telny?”

“Nah, Goggles. I’m just going to have some fun with them.”

“And you mean what, exactly?”

“Just wait and watch. We’ll see if they’re posers or predators.” Telny checked his chamber to ensure that a round was present. Goggles stopped talking. The other stallion could plainly see the slight unsteady nervousness in him, indicating that he was still untested by fire and was not yet properly prepared for his role.

At the appointed time, Keffiyeh arrived. They spoke briefly as Keffiyeh took over the shift from Telny. Now that he was free and not under company shift protocols, Sunny casually began to walk away. The ponies were still there. Smirking, Telny marched right up to them with his FAL already, as it was always whenever he went to work, set to semiautomatic fire with a live round loaded in a ready chamber.

The three ponies took notice of the masked figure dressed to kill rapidly approaching them with a battle rifle in its hooves. Sunny noticed that except for the pegasus, the other two were mares. The gunpony looked them in the eyes, put his gun in ready position, and reared up on his hind legs as he let loose a shout in his thickest Griffon accent. “Nu, scho zhe vy delaete?!”

“Ah beg ya pardon?” Asked the unicorn, slightly taken aback.

Sunny fixed her a cold glare. “I asked: Vat zie hell are you doing?”

“Nothing,” replied all three of them.

The gunpony intentionally motioned with his weapon. “Davaj, tovarisch durak. Then why don’t you go do nothing someplace else? Last week was loitering week, so ve let it go. But…” growled the stallion, “you are vearing theen on our patience, and if you want to avoid unpleasantness, then you leave now.” Their faces blanched. You are understanding us, no? Ponyatno? Da? Nyet?”

“G-Got it,” stuttered the earth pony.

Sunny suddenly became much quieter, growling, “Otlichno. Don’t try anything; I alvays watching you.” He shouting. “Why you still here. I sayed go. Prygaj -- SEJCHAS!” The ponies panicked and bolted. Sunny slung his FAL onto his back and promptly left the scene, struggling not to laugh. He disappeared behind the bank and then stealthed his way back home.

Sunny opened his closet doors and put on a button down shirt and a pair of slacks before capping it all off with his broad-brimmed panama hat. Since he was going into the Everfree, bringing a gun along certainly made sense, but it wasn’t worth the hassle it would doubtlessly draw. After brushing his teeth, he went into the kitchen for lunch. He stomach clenched a bit around emptiness. How long had it been since he’d eaten a proper meal? He couldn’t count the days, though it was more likely months or years. He just simply was never in the mood to eat; it all just tasted flat, dull, and uninteresting to him most of the time. He grabbed carrots and poured himself a glass of orange juice. It was over quickly and he did a quick cleaning of the crockery.

On his way out, he looked at the bottle of whiskey. He’d promised his mother that he wouldn’t drink, but all that went through his head was the thought of having to deal with ponies and winning over mares romantically. He took three large gulps of the fiery liquor and then turned to the picture of the zebra stallions. He saluted and sighed with moist eyes, “Ich lasse”. Then he slogged off, slamming the front door behind him.

Sunny looked up at the sun in the midmorning sky. He knew that he had to go to the east, to where he was told that Zecora’s hut was located. He’d heard about it from conversations with Pinkie Pie – that it was a really kooky but okay place. It would’ve been helpful last week if he’d been told that there was a dirt track leading to it so that he wouldn’t have spent several days stalking through the Everfree Forest.

The trek down to and through Ponyville was pleasant enough. His hooves clopped pleasantly against the dirt, gravel, and cobblestones which shone in the golden sunlight. A few ponies even waved greetings at him. Despite his good mood, he was too tense to speak, and so just gave an affirmative hummed hmm-hmh back and nodded as he trotted past. Birds sang in the tepid spring air, feathers ruffling comfortably in the frequent warm, pleasant, gusts of wind. In that moment, Sunny’s mouth tipped up and he gained an extra spring in his step with a tingling in his body and brain from the alcohol. The world was smiling at him, and for once, he was smiling back.

His good mood remained unbroken as he reached the edge of the woods. For the first leg of the journey, he gradually slowed from a jaunty trot to a purposeful stride in which he was keenly aware of all his surroundings. The forest was a dangerous environment, and as such, it was no different from any other unsafe place. Sunny’s body was a bit more unsteady than desirable, and his brain felt wrapped in a fuzzy haze. Despite his intoxication, he slipped into vigilance mode without incident, for it was so practiced as to be his default way of being.

The sunlight bled through the forest canopy in golden, ethereal shafts. The path was smooth and unobtrusively colored compared to its surroundings, and also being fairly clear of rocks, roots, moss, and undergrowth, which meant that it had to be a fairly recent development and not too heavily frequented. It was almost intimate; a private way used almost exclusively by very few.

Sunny continued to walk for a while. As he pressed deeper into the darkness of the forest, the darkness of the forest pressed deeper into him. The familiar tightness in his chest returned as he thought about Zecora. Their encounter in his apartment had been their first and only meeting. Sure, she had seemed nice enough there with everypony watching, but how would she behave once they were alone together without witnesses? Zebras weren’t inherently untrustworthy, and Sunny knew that from direct experience. After all, many of his comrades and friends had been zebras. The natives of Zebricy hadn’t been stupid, cruel, or backwards – just different from him in some respects. Klee, Haye’s wife, was a Zebra and one of the few individuals Sunny really trusted. Of course, she was a Flachland Zebra from the cosmopolitan plains of the Bundesland. Zecora seemed odd, in a way that reminded him of the Gebergszug Zebras of Chechneya, a mountainous tribal region, whom had often made numerous attempts on his life, and killed many of his friends. If she was a Chechneyan, then he’d just have to adapt as the situation evolved. He could take her in a fight without question.

As the stallion advanced, the smells of charcoal, mulch, and flowers met his nostrils. There was only one explanation, and it looked like an unusually wide shaft of light; easily big enough to mark a clearing in the thick woods. Sunny approached it cautiously and surveyed the scene while taking cover behind a shrub. Surely enough, it was a clearing with a house in the middle, if one could call it a house. It was more like what would happen if a tree tried to disguise itself as a domicile. There was a stoop, some front steps, a door left ajar, and some windows, two of which were lit with a yellow glow, making them look uncannily like hungry eyes framing a mouth. The thing looked unusually bulbous and gnarly, like a poor carving of an octopus.

Sunny stepped into the clearing, squinting slightly in the bright light. In this moment, he was glad for the alcohol keeping his nerves down. He paused at the threshold, about to knock on the door, though he could have simply squeezed through easily enough. Zebricans generally didn’t mind company just wandering in when they left their doors open; they had a remarkable openness about them and did not believe in habitually closing and locking doors, only doing so for serious reasons. He could definitely hear activity coming from the interior. Second thoughts swirled around his mind. He then remembered that he had a date and was loathe to renege on his promise. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was asking around for wanted insurgents in Grazny. Clop clop. Sunny knocked twice on the door and stood on the unopened side just in case. It was something he had learned to do in Afghneighnistan, and the habit was so deeeply ingrained that he had to make conscious efforts to not do it.

Seconds passed with only the sound of quickened activity. A musical voice came from somewhere inside the dwelling. “Greetings, guest -- good day. Come inside my home, you may.” Sunny opened the door just a little bit and complied. His senses were immediately hit with a distinct sense of otherness. His eyes perceived a welcoming, if provincial, main room with a steaming black cauldron in the middle and tribal decorations, such as a dream catcher, weavings, and two masks, adorning the single round wall. He instantly smelled that indescribable yet infuriatingly familiar musty, primal, calming, scent endemic to such places. He felt modest but not stifling warmth in the humid air, which carried the ghost of some nameless flavours. He heard the crackle and bubble of the cauldron fire and its contents, the metallic soprano jingling of the door and wind chimes, and the sound of something heavy being put on a shelf out of sight followed by approaching hoofsteps.

Zecora appeared around a corner, wearing only the same rings and ornaments as she had at their last meeting. Her mane was still done up in that distinctive mohawk style as before. “Hello,” said Sunny.

The mare looked him up and down as she answered, “It is a good day for me, and good day to you, Sunny.” Conversing with her wasn’t half bad, or hard at all. He could do this!

“Good to hear that Zecora. What are you doing?”

“I am going into that garden of mine to harvest blossoms of columbine.”

Sunny blurted out, “For a potion, right?”

Zecora nodded, approaching him with two small baskets. “Indeed, for I have a client in need.” They stepped out the front door and the zebra led the pony into the garden. It was surprisingly large, sprawling over at least two acres. And it wasn’t just filled with decorative and medicinal plants either; much of it was filled with vegetables and fruits.

The stallion’s eyes widened as he took it all in. “Your garden is quite impressive,” he said. “I had no idea that the forest had clearings this big, let alone any gardens. I thought that you gathered wild things out in the Everfree.”

At this, Zecora stopped, turned to lock eyes with Sunny, put a basket on the ground, and smiled. “Your flattery is sweet, but please help me this task complete. It will be done sooner with two instead of one, and though my plants are many, please do not eat any.” Sunny blushed as he magically levitated the basket and followed along behind her. He blushed a deeper pink as he got an eyeful of her voluptuous plot and shapely legs walking and bouncing with a slight rhythmic, almost deliberate, sashay previously absent.

Seeking to distract himself, Sunny looked elsewhere in the garden. Their narrow path was flanked by roses on the left and sunflowers on the right. The way twisted and turned at the corners of the beds, which were all arranged in a grid pattern. “Say, Zecora?” inquired Sunny.

“Yes?”

“Who did the surveying and planning for you? I mean, this is seriously good work.”

“All this work was done alone; a lady’s garden is her own.” Zecora’s tail twitched. “Thank you, Sunny, but did you come for my garden or for me.” She pronounced the last five words with just a faint hint of annoyance. Sunny’s ears drooped. Damn his inebriated loquacity!

“Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

“I can understand, being surrounded by the unfamiliar plants of a foreign land.”

“It’s all quite impressive, really.”

“Please keep your wits about you.” Zecora stopped, turned ninety degrees to the right, and sat down. “We now have work to do.” Sunny did the same, but kept his distance. He watched the mare use her hooves to smartly twist and separate the mature and wilted blooms from the stalks before gently laying them in the basket. She left the buds, immature flowers, stems, and leaves untouched.

Sunny did his best to keep up with Zecora, but he very rapidly fell behind. She collected three blossoms in the time it took him to get one. He almost watched spellbound as she worked so quickly and efficiently, never missing a beat, never making a mistake, and never seeming to give the task anything more than minimal effort while his own motions were so clunky and uncoordinated.

In a bid to make conversation, he asked, “What do you do?”

“You might not have guessed this, but I am an herbalist. From plants, I collect natural remedies and use them to make healthy bodies.”

“So you’re pretty much a doctor,” said he, twisting off a red and white blossom from its stem.

“No, I am not a doctor trained in sciences and reasons. I am a shaman steeped in the wisdom of many seasons. I know the ways of my ancestors to heal the sick. Our methods are ancient and heuristic. Magic is not something I do. I wish to know about you.” Sunny sighed as he placed a blue and lilac flower on his modest pile. “If you do not want me to know, then you can just say so. However, do not attempt to deceive, for through it I always perceive. I shall not forgive that so long as I live. You trust that I make no dishonest claim, and I expect you do the same.” Crap, he’d forgotten just how seriously Zebricans took dishonesty, though it wasn’t entirely unforgivable. At least they didn’t believe in lie by omission. He had to pick his words with utmost care.

“I work at the bank. That’s all I’m willing to say.” He looked over at her flank and saw the tattoo on it. It was a stylized sun drawn as a spiral with triangles surrounding it. Sunny froze. A dreadful question was forming in his mind and threatening to jump from his tongue. That tense feeling he had, had returned fully. Alcohol; he wanted alcohol to silence his brain and stop the flow of memories. He was trying to suppress it all when Zecora caught him staring at her.

“Are you alright? You seem to have quite a fright.”

He nodded exaggeratedly. “Uh, yeah, I- I’m fine. Just a little spaced out is all.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure? If you have a problem, I’ll give you a cure. But do not lie; I will know it, so don’t even try. Why is your face so white? Do I offend your sight?”

Sunny was trapped in an impossible situation with no good solution. He couldn’t lie his way out without losing her forever. If he told her the truth, then she’d almost certainly hate him for who he was and what he did. If he said nothing, or just ran away, then she’d never stop asking, and think that he was really weird, if not a racist. He swallowed and braced himself. “Zecora, please do not take offense, but are you from Chechneya?”

“I am Chechneyan, ‘tis true. But of what concern is it to you?”

Sunny almost physically recoiled. His mind felt like it had hurtled over a cliff. “I…” Words failed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He looked away and resumed picking flowers with more force than necessary.

“Very well; I shall not force you to tell.”

Heaving a massive sigh relief, Sunny, in an effort to keep the conversation going, replied, “By the way, I’m from Baltimare.”

“Baltimare you say -- that port city of decay?

He laughed nervously, scratching his scalp with his hoof. “Yeah, that one. It wasn’t all that bad. It’s surprisingly easy to get used to armed robberies, gang clashes, and the odd bullet sailing through your living rom.” Zecora gave him a skeptical look. “I was being sarcastic.” She relaxed and cracked a smile, not hearing him quietly mutter, “But not that sarcastic.” He did his best to regain composure. “So, what about you?”

“I am from a small village, Kamyshev, by name -- a place beholden to much fame.”

Sunny was finding it difficult to talk. In truth, he wanted to run away and drink. He had to get away from here, from this place, this zebra, and this conversation that was dragging so many memories to the surface that he didn’t want to recall. But still, he could not simply abandon his task. He swallowed. “Can you tell me more about Kamyshev, Zecora?” He mentally had to clamp down on his body to stay in control.

“Certainly I will tell you an ode about my youthful abode.” Her eyes lit up slightly. “Kamyshev is an old place among the Zebra race. The old ways are still alive, and along the alpine waters we thrive. We have a great river, and between it and the lake, no water is clearer. Kamyshev is almost an island in the lake, connected by a stone bridge of ancient make. For three thousand years, our race has inhabited that place.”

Curiosity distracted the pony. “Wait, really? It was already old when the diarchs were young?”

Zecora paused briefly to look into Sunny’s dilated eyes. “It is true; I do not deceive you. In fact, some of our legends spoke of the arrival of you pony folk.” She turned back to work, but moved more slowly than before.

“May I hear one, please?” Sunny asked.

The zebra mare nodded and hummed. “Alright. Thank you for being more polite. But now this work is done, so come with me, little one.” Sunny swore that he saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, even though he inwardly groaned when she called him little one. At least so long as they were moving and talking, he’d have other things to focus on than being in close proximity to a Chechneyan in a high pressure social situation which required a firm grasp of nuance; things which didn’t do his condition any favors. He saw that her basket was positively overflowing.

“May I help you with that? I can levitate both of ours and hold them steady no problem.

“Thank you, Breeze. Your kindness doth me please.” They stood up, with him levitating both of their baskets with magic, careful to avoid spilling any of the beautiful multicolored columbine flowers. It was not until the walk back to her hut that Sunny noticed that his body and steps were neither tremulous nor drunkenly sloppy. Zecora’s own strides had just a little bit more of that delicious sashay to them than before; too much to be accidental, but not enough to be clearly advertising anything, assuming that Sunny’s memory about zebra mares was accurate.

Zecora was significantly, although not massively bigger than Sunny, being roughly average size for zebras, which were typically larger than ponies. Klee dwarfed Haye, who was a fairly big pony himself. She was just massive; maybe even bigger than Big Macintosh. The walk back to Zecora’s home was pleasant, with her humming a jaunty tune as they went along. Even the birds and winds seemed as if they conspired to make the situation as comfortable as possible, which did help to calm Sunny’s mind. Unfortunately, it was over all too quickly, and they found themselves back in the house. The zebra motioned for the pony to take a seat while she fetched her mortar and pestle to grind up the blossoms. The mare first began to pulverize the columbine before she spoke, even though as she recited the tale, which was more like a rap or chant than either speech or a song, her hooves beat against the ground in a rhythmic, tribal beat similar to the manner in which Canterlot bards of antiquity would clop their hooves and play their lutes as they sang their lays. Sunny sat spellbound and absorbed every word.

“The elders spoke of a lime long ago when there were no pony folk. They say that yes, there was a foal named Kves. Kves was colt, who though a true striped zebra born, had wings and a horn, and his mane was long, straight, and did shine as if the hairs were crystalline. The shaman prophesied that he would herald the arrival of a strange breed from a far off land unknown to the band. After he became a stallion mature, the land was gripped in a strange winter. Starvation seemed near, and the village was gripped with fear. Kves swore to appease the spirits offended so that the freeze would be ended. After a long journey across the land, atop the holy black mountain he did stand. He was told that windigos were responsible for the snows, and to scatter the clouds above, he had to fill a heart with love.”

Zecora stopped her grinding and placed the mortar and pestle down next to her. Drawing a deep breath, she continued, “His love would have no stripes, and have colors of two different types. And so off Kves went, to find this mare for whom he was meant. He searched high and low, far and close, but in vain, until he found her on a frozen plain. They courted and an end in the snow was reported. A messenger was sent to find where Kves went. He came back alone and his offer of return denied, for Kves planned to make the stranger his bride. He inquired of her what must be done before they could become one. She, named Atriy, asked for a gem sublime to represent their love for all of time. Deep in a cave beneath a lonely lake, Kves found a massive drake. The two did fight, for two hundred days and one more night. With a might final blow, through the dragon did his blade go. And thus to bring back the gen he swore, he cut out the dragon’s core. It was a sight scant seen, a heart of flawless aquamarine.”

Zecora stopped again to catch her breath. Sunny was completely silent and fixed on her, even smiling slightly. She continued, “When he showed it to her, she said that this perfect crystal heart meant they would never be apart. The glow of their love appeased the spirits above. That warmth melted the tundra snow and allowed Atriy’s folk to grow. She and he soon created a family, with two fillies given astral names, with large bodies, horns, wings, and gossamer manes. So you see, that is how you pony folk came to be.” She concluded her tale by crossing her forelegs.

“Impressive and fascinating – thank you,” said Sunny. “Unfortunately, I have no such stories I care to tell. Just one question: does the term, Equestria, come from a portmanteau of Kves and Atriy?”

“Fear not of offending me. I merely recounted our history. I do not know if Kves and his mate are the origin of the Equestrian state.” They conversed some more after this, but the sun was getting low in the sky and Sunny knew that he would soon need to meet Fluttershy.

He yawned and stretched. “Thank you for the hospitality, Zecora. It’s lovely getting to know yo, but now I must go. It’s getting late and I have things to do.”

She nodded. “Sunny, I must say that you made this a good day. In the future, feel free to come see me. Unless it’s the middle of night, it’ll be alright.”

“Got it,” said he. “I’ll be off then. Auf Wiedersehen,” he said as he stood up.

“Wait.” That wasn’t a request; it was an order. He stood still and looked at the mare as she approached him. That damned anxiety came back with a vengeance. “My friend, I would say that we are closer than auf Wiedersehen. Tchuss is much better for our use then.” Zecora was close now. Sunny didn’t know what to do. He tensed. Suddenly, the Chechneyan reared up and he flinched, awaiting the blows that would inevitably come. To his surprise, something warm curled around his shoulders and neck. He felt the tickle of warm breath on his ear. “Relax,” half soothed and half chucked Zecora to the stallion. “With me, you never have to fear attacks. I have never for violence wished; I am a pacifist.” The stallion made a face for a moment before he let out a long whistling sigh and snaked his legs around the mare. “Well, take care. You are needed elsewhere.” She released him and he walked out the front door, thanking her once more.

Sunny trudged alongthe forest path, singing Soldatushki to raise his spirits like he had done on the wagon after the Spring Equinox Festival, for meeting Zecora had taken a lot out of him. His voice was raucous and coarse, as if a few rocks had gotten into it. “Soldatushki, bravy rebyatushki, gde zhe vasha slava? Soldiers, brave guys, where is your honor?” This chorus repeated after he sang a new verse, some learned, and some of his own invention. The leaves crunched pleasantly underneath his hooves and Sunny presently found himself trotting up the hill to Fluttershy’s house at the edge of town.

His first impressions of her cottage were nostalgically rustic, as if it belonged to a simpler time of days past, made all the more endearing by the fading light of the sunset silhouetting it against the dark forest on one side and the amber plains on the other. Sunny drew himself up and knocked solidly on the door. Clop clop. After several minutes, the door opened just a tiny crack.

Sunny could just barely make out Fluttershy, but from what he could see, her mane was slightly disheveled and her eyes looked anywhere but at him. “Hello?”

“Um… hi, Sunny…” The words were so soft that for a moment, he didn’t realize that they’d been spoken. Sunny’s smile faltered. He kicked out nervously with his front hoof.

“Sorry, is this a bad time?”

Fluttershy coughed. “No… it’s just that… I don’t feel well today.” She rasped every word and then shook her head. “Could you come back later if it’s okay with you?” The pegasus began to withdraw and turn. Sunny glimpsed an ice pack on her bad wing. His ears drooped slightly.

Sunny nodded. “Of course. Just focus on healing. See you then.” He turned and walked away. He could have sworn that he heard a squeak that sounded suspiciously like thanks just before the door.

It was dark when he got home. His mother was idly flipping through a handicrafts magazine in the living room. Without delay, she turned to him and asked, “How did you make out?”

Taking a seat on the couch, Sunny answered, “Work was fine. Zecora threw me for a loop. It turns out that she’s Chechneyan, which is not going to be easy to ignore. Fluttershy was a waste of time, though she is getting more interesting every time I see her, especially that wing of hers.”

“Just focus on Zecora for now. Did you like her?” Sunny nodded. Ginny continued, “That’s all I asked. Did you get a second date?”

Sunny blushed a little. “Well, sorta. She told me that I could come over pretty much anytime.” He then proceeded to fill her in on a rough outline of what had happened. She listened to the whole story, nodding her head and making occasional mm’s and hmm’s.

“That’s nice. Now, can you at least try to get over the past?”

The stallion froze. The gears in his head whirred madly like little buzzing bees. His voice didn’t sound confident at all. “I don’t know. I really just do not know if I can. You’re asking me to drag up to the past while putting myself in really high pressure social situations.” He paused, took a deep breath, and asked her, “So, how was your day?”

“Nothing special,” replied she. “Though you did wake me up when you slammed the door this morning.”

“Sorry.”

“Remember that you’re not the only pony living here. So, I went down to the spa and got pampered. I ran into Rainbow Dash, and she’s looking forward to seeing you again.” Sunny startled at the name, suddenly sitting bolt upright. His mother’s eyes took it in, but she made no comment. “Anyway, she doesn’t like ponies touching her hooves, although she loves having the space between her wings rubbed.” Ginny winked. Sunny was completely unfazed by her comments now that the conversation was in private. She had always made raunchy comments, and so had he before the war. The two of them spoke for a while until Sunny yawned. “Tired, Sunny?”

“Yeah, mom. It’s been a tough day. I should probably go to bed; I have work in the morning.”

“Well, goodnight.”

“Gute Nacht, Mutter.” Sunny stalked off to his room and locked himself inside. He slowly took off his clothes and threw them on the floor. He grabbed his AK-74 from the closet and held it close to his body as if it were a teddy bear. After the first good day in quite a while, Sunny Breeze fell asleep quickly and easily without a drop of alcohol in his system.

Author's Note:

There you have it. Thus ends what I project to be the first third of Racer and the Geek. Act of 1 of 3 has concluded. Thank you all for reading, commenting, and upvoting this piece. It's become more successful than I imagined and I thank you all for your part in it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank you very much.

Support me on Patreon.

Comments

[Sayer]

I really enjoyed this chapter. We learned a bit more about Suny, and that even though he's not very fond of Chechneyas zebras (can't spel that damned country), he's not a racist (That's what everypony says). And you made me feel bad for Fluttershy, you bastard! I'll kill you for that, I'll kill you! (Gets dragged away screaming).

[kalash93]

2757361

Are these ponies, anthro, or humanized?

Do you see a human tag? Eenope.
Do I ever mention the ponies having arms, hands, or feet? Eenope.
Therefore, these are normal show style ponies.

[Camshock55]

MOAR please MOAR this is so good

[kalash93]

2768661

I'm glad that you're really liking it. Rest assured that chapter nine is in production.

[Samey90]

I really like the German and Russian parts (even though I'm not used to English transcription of Cyrillic) - they create an unique atmosphere of this fic. Also, is it strange, that I found Sunny's war flashbacks even more interesting than the main story?

[kalash93]

2823632

Sorry for leaving you hanging for so long.

Thanks for the feedback about the usage of foreign languages and war flashbacks. I was concerned about readers reacting negatively to those things, but it seems as if you guys like them. I transliterated the Russian and Ukrainian parts because otherwise, how are most of the people here going to read it?

2768661

Thank you very much. Chapter 9 is done and I'm just waiting on my helpers to get back to me on it. Then it will be uploaded. Have patience, for the wait will not be much longer.

[kalash93]

2897297

Thank you. Could you please hold off for another day or two? Chapter nine is undergoing final revisions before upload.

[Desrium]

2897734

It's gonna take me a few days to read up all the way, so no problem. Expect comments in the preceding chapters leading up to the later ones, like the one I just posted.