> The Journey of an Inventor
>  by Inquisitor Seigmund
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter I: This is Some Serious Bull****(REVISED)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
When I had decided to become an engineer, I had some great expectations for myself. I when I was a child I was constantly keeping myself up to date with all the newest machines being released by engineers all around the world. I know for a fact that Boston Dynamic's PETMAN was what sealed the deal for me. It's almost human like movements and its ability to adapt to changes in balance inspired me to create something of equal significance, I wanted to give the world something as amazing as that, maybe even more. Come the year of my graduation I had enough scholarships to get me into any technical institute of my choosing, I was ready to start the path to my dream.

For years, I spent all my time studying various forms of engineering and physics. there were periods of time where I must have gone weeks without speaking to anybody. It would often take the pleas of my friends to get me to take a break for a few days, or even just to coax me out of my dorm.

But once it was all said and done, I had finally finish all my schooling. I had a master's degree in robotics engineering, along with a minor in applied physics. My family was proud, my friends were proud and I’m sure my granddad would have been proud if it hadn't been for the late onset dementia.

Everything had fallen into place for me, the world was my playground...

But of course, nothing is ever as easy as you hope it'll be.

I began working at a technical college, conducting my research. Over the next 3 years, I had several ideas, all of which worked in theory. But the things stopping me from starting to work on any of them was a lack of funding, and people willing to work with me. I had plans to create prothetic limbs, far more sophisticated than the plastic ones limited to simple tasks. but the parts I needed to create such things were expensive, and the college isn't too keen on funding something that works only in theory. Not to mention the fact that I could not, for the life of me, find a medical consult to help me with the interfacing. Thanks to those two factors, every Idea I've come up with was shot down before it could get up in the air. 


From how things were going, it seemed as if this brutal cycle would continue until the  institute go sick of paying for somebody that wasn't making any progress whatsoever. I was sure that I would get nothing out of my career, let alone achieve that childhood dream of mine.   
That is, until I was visited by... IT at work one day.





It was early in the morning, and I was quietly walking down the halls of the college to my lab. I was hoping to reason with the board that day, begging them to fund one of my projects to the point I was willing to pay back the Institute if I had the great misfortune of failing. The whole thing was a reckless gambit, I know, but I was willing to do anything if it meant getting my career to at least budge, if only slightly. I was heading down to my lab to grab the presentation off the lab computer, something I had spent the last week writing up and revising, making it the perfect case to sway the board in my favor.

I was taking my keys out of my pocket, when I noticed something suspicious. The door to the lab was slightly ajar, when it was supposed to have been locked. In fact, I could recall exactly what I had been thinking about while locking up my lab for the night the day before: that Stanley is a giant asswipe, and thats all I'll be going into on that subject. Trust me, It's best you never know.

I thought that maybe the janitor had come in the middle of the of his nightly round to sweep up my lab, but leaving a door, not only unlocked but open too wasn't like him at all. I began wondering if anybody had broken into my lab. I quickly perished that thought, as it seemed stupid to think that someone would break into MY lab of all places. I came to regret that line of thinking once I actually stepped inside.

I opened the door, darkness fooling with my vision. As I took a step inside, I heard a sound that caused me to freeze. At first, it had sounded human to me, but after my mind processed it further, it sounded like a wheezing gasp. I thought that there was some kind of wounded animal inside, and was getting ready to run; but my eyes finally adjusted and my blood ran cold.

I saw IT.

There was a small creature, roughly the size of a toddler, croutched atop the lab-counter. It's skin was a shade of dark brown, and it had patchy, black hair all over it's back. It's eyes were the size dinner-plates, which glowed against the light of the hallway, making it so that I could see it's tiny pupils staring straight at me. It had large, pointed ears and it's head was shaped like s human's, only malformed. Finally, the expression its face bore was that of surprise and fear and it appeared to be perspiring profusely.

I could only describe this creature as being a Sweat Goblin; in fact, to this very day, I still call it that.

We both stood there for what had seemed like an hour, It's eyes burrowing into my soul as we both stood paralyzed by each others gaze. just when I had snapped out of it and was about to bolt, the sweat-goblin pointed it's skinny digit at me and screamed:

"OFF TO EQUESTRIA WITH YOU!"

Before I could even formulate the sentence 'what the fuck' in my head, a beam of energy shot from the creature's fingers.

"ZAP, MUTHAFACKAAAAAAAAAA!"

I then felt as though a kangaroo wearing moutain-boots hit me in the chest. It was the last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness.





ACTIVATING SELF-DIAGNOSTICS

What the….

REBOOTING ALL SYSTEMS

Wait what? What is all this?

REACTIVATING DIRECTIONAL-SENSORY SYSTEMS

A vertical compass appeared at the top of my blackened vision.

REACTIVATING VISUAL-RECEPTOR

In a flash, I could see again. What I saw was a clear, blue sky. 

REACTIVATING AUDIO-RECEPTORS

I began to hear the slow crashing of ocean waves, which obviously meant I was on a beach or close to one.

REACTIVATING MOTOR-SYSTEMS

I could now feel my body. My first reaction to this was to raise my hands to see them. When I did, I got a bit of a surprise.

What I saw were two arms, coated in metal. I sat there, silently marveling at my arms. It didn’t take me a long time to piece together the fact that I was covered in metal and the fact that-

REBOOT COMPLETE

-I kept getting messages about my body to come to the conclusion:



“I’m a fucking robot.”


‘How in the fuck am I a fucking robot?!’

I began ranting in my head, trying to figure out what I had missed in the time I was out. However, I quickly remembered the thing in my lab.

"DAMN YOU, SWEAT GOBLIN!"

Realizing that the creature was probably nowhere near me, and there was now point in yelling at the accursed thing, I thought that the  best course of action would be to stand up and assess my current situation. I rolled over and stood up, looking around me. My suspicions of my being on a beach were confirmed, a few feet away from the water to be exact.  Looking behind me, I saw grassy knolls that block out the horizon. In addition, there were a couple of temperature and wind-speed readings flashing across my HUD……. Yeah, suppose it would be appropriate to call it that, and they all seemed to state that it was somewhere between 40 to 45 degrees Fahrenheit with 30 to 40 mile an hour winds.

“Well, I now know that I’m on a northern beach, but what beach am I-“

“Oh! Hello, Sir?! Sir are you alright?!” a voice said at my right in a peculiar British-accent.

‘Oh shit, did that guy seriously drop me in England?!’

I turned around-










………………Welp, I’m on an alien planet.

This became very evident when the person who called me turned out to be a beige pony with a pink mane, dressed in Victorian style grab. She had a look on her face that was quite similar to a mom whose kid just fell down and scraped his knee.

“I found you just lying there a few minutes ago. I tried to get help, but the guards back at Steamport just gave me looks like I gone mad; I suppose I should have left out your appearance…...”

“Oh no no no, I’m fine, I was merely……..err……..taking a nap!” I said lamely.

“Really; on the beach?”

“Yep…”

“A few minutes before high-tide?”

“… I like to take risks…”

“…Rrrrrrrrright. Anyhow, I’m glad to see you ok; but, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you?”

Hm, that was actually a good question, now that she mentioned it. Come to think of it, I actually hadn’t gotten a chance to take a look at myself. As if on cue, a blurry shape appeared on my HUD. As it cleared up it became obvious that it was an image of my body. I was humanoid in shape, a blue lens in the middle of my face, my bodily structure resembling that of a human with a medium build, and my hull was a shade of silver. I looked down at my legs and realized I was dressed. I was wearing a pair of loose, black, baggy pants that were tucked neatly into a pair of leather boots. Further investigation of my chest revealed that I was wearing a gray vest with two rows of four, silver buttons. Around my waist was a dark red sash of some kind.

‘Well, at least little shit-boot had the courtesy of giving me some nice new duds.’

I had then realized I had left the young mare hanging whilst playing a game of “checking myself out”, so I looked back at her and simply said:  

“I’m not quite sure; actually…..perhaps I’m just a mere robot?”

“A-a what?” 

Right, they probably have no concept of robots.

“Oh, never you mind. Anyhow, thank you for your concern, but I really should be heading off now. If you could do me one last favor….?”

“What would that be?”

“You mentioned Steamport earlier; I assume that’s a nearby town?”

Once again, as if on cue, my HUD threw another image in front of my face; but this time, it was a map of what appeared to be a map of the continent. Just as she was about to speak up and give me directions, I waved my hand.

"Wait, never mind, I have a map, I can find it myself. Take care now, and thank you again!" I said, heading toward a path that lead off the beach.

"Err...... farewell!" I heard her tentatively say before she muttered something that led me to believe I had advanced hearing.

"What a strange person...."



 

'Now, let's have ourselves another look at this map' I thought as I brought it up on my HUD. taking another look at it pretty much confirmed the fact I was on another planet, given that there are no landmasses like what I was looking at on earth.

aside from this, it had hundreds of tiny markers, representing the towns and cities. Oh good LORD the names....... 

'Tailton? What kind of shit is this?'

'Manehattan? What the-'

'Stailliongrad?! Are you fucking kidding me?!'

'Canterlot... well alright, that one was sort of clever...'

'...Ponyville...PONYVILLE... who the hell came up with this crap?!'

Horrible horse puns aside, it was time I got a move on. I thought about how I would use the map to get to where I was going, before I thought back to every open-world game I had ever played.

"Set destination for: 'Steamport'" 

With a quick *boop* there was now a dot with a a number above it on my compass telling me which way the town was and how far I was away from it in meters.

"Well, that was easy."  





 
	
> Chapter II: 'Aving a Giggle in Steamport
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As I walked briskly down the road, I mulled over my current predicament. Considering I was now stuck on an alien planet, and, if that pony’s clothes were any indicator, this place was at least a century behind Earth, in terms of technology, and possibly culture. That said, what was I going to do with myself, given that the thing I excel in is nowhere on this planet? How am I going to get money? And, more importantly, why did that thing think it was appropriate to turn me into a goddamned robot and send me to a planet lagging behind in terms of technology? I’m an engineer for Christ sake!

Although, considering my extensive knowledge in the field of robotics engineering, I should be able to apply what I know to build some kind of clever thingamabob to dazzle the inhabitance. Sure, granted I probably couldn’t make something like, say, a radio; however, given what little technology they were likely to posses, it probably wouldn’t take much to impress them.

On another note, how exactly was I supposed to eat? Given the fact that I was a robot, my energy wasn’t going to be maintainable by mere mortal means of sustenance.  So I guessed that it was best to hope that I was solar powered; if so that would be pretty convenient. I mean, if it doesn’t have to eat, it doesn’t have to excrete…

That’s when I was hit with a rather nasty epiphany; so nasty, that I stopped dead in my tracks.

Slowly, I looked down at the waist-band of my trousers.

‘Nnnnnno…’

I seized front of my trousers, and then attentively pulled them forward.

‘Ooooooh…’


Well, it looks like that last swing I had with the brunette working in the entomology department, was, in fact, my last swing.   

I took this news with a few moments of bitter silence before letting out an exasperated sigh. Good thing I wasn’t a teenager, or I’d be a hysterical wreck right now. 

Then again, I am a robot after all, so I probably wasn’t susceptible to the same primal instinct or even desire to copulate (or, in layman’s terms, horniness) that mammals tend to suffer from.

So, I simply shrugged and went on my merry-way. 






After a couple of numerous and varying concerns I had about the future of my career and the functions (or lack of functions) of my body, I could finally see the town of Steamport resting on the sea-shore.

It seemed the speculation I had made of the town, based on the two nouns in its name, were mostly correct.

It obviously got the “steam” part of its name from the abundance of factories it clearly had. It was obviously an industrial town, based on the amount of cranes, weather-vanes, small airships and the fact that the amount of pollution the smoke stacks were spewing every second was so abundant that I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an epidemic of lung-cancer plaguing this town.

The “port” part of its name came from the fact that it was on the sea-shore. And, of course, what kind of sea-side town would it be if it didn’t have a dock. Fishing ships, trade ships, ferries, freighters, and what was possibly a battleship.

As for the architecture, I had also made a correct speculation; this place significantly resembled Great Britain during the industrial age. Although the brick wall surrounding it did seem a bit out of place 

“Well, time to amaze the masses with my creations…right after I get a job.”





I approached the gate, hoping to god they didn’t charge me an entry fee. I spotted a door opening inside the wall, which probably lead to a barracks built inside, expecting another one of those ponies to step out, dressed in a Scotland Yard outfit. That, however, wasn’t what he was dressed in. Instead of something that even remotely matched the town in any way shape or form…

‘They’re dressed in golden, pseudo-roman-legion armor… what kind of sense does that make?!’

So we have a world that’s in an industrial age, but, at the same time, soldiers dressed in ancient roman attire?! What the hell is wrong with this place?! Next they’ll be using swords and spears!

As the guard stepped out the door and took a better look at me, what I assumed to be his usual, stoic expression quickly dissolved into one of befuddlement and trepidation.

“…Uuuuuuh, Captain?” he said, looking back inside.

“WHAT?” a crotchety voice coming from inside the barracks replied.

“I may need some help out here…” the guard looked back at me with a worried expression.

I heard the sound of creaking wood and the clip-clop of hooves before another guard (obviously the guard-captain) stepped out, his coat the same off-white color as the other.

“What exactly was SO important that you had to interrupt my….”

He almost immediately caught sight of me, his angry expression switching over to confusion in less than a second. Then, he seemed to recognize me; and, thanks to his expression, I didn’t need to be psychic to know what he was thinking.

‘Shit, I should probably apologize to that mare the next time I see her’

But he quickly regained his composure and put on his “stoic-lawman” face.

“What is your business in Steamport stranger?” 

“I’m looking for work, sir.”

The captain paused for a moment, sizing me up, checking for any signs that I was dangerous in any way, he seem to feel a bit unsure of me, not that I could blame him. Given I was a robot (something that was obviously completely alien to this world), I probably looked like the weirdest thing he had ever seen.

“Very, well; but before you go in I’m going to have to ask you to relinquish your armor, non-combatants aren’t allowed to wear it here.”

Oh shit, this is going to be hard to explain…

“Uhhhh this isn’t armor… it’s my body.”

“W-…what?”

“It isn’t armor, it’s basically my skin.” I rapped on my head a couple times, emitting a few low clangs that suggested that it was too thick for there to be anyone inside.

“How…?” 

“I’m a robot”

“…A what?”

Oh god, if I have to explain this the same way to everyone I meet; I’m going to go fucking insane.

“I’m a living machine.” I deadpanned.

They, of course were skeptical of my claim from what I could tell from their expressions, but I guess they decided it wasn’t worth questioning.

“Alright, fine. But don’t cause any trouble while you’re here. I doubt there’s anyone else in town that looks anything like you. So if we get any reports of a metal creature standing on two legs causing a ruckus, we’re coming after you.” The captain said in a stern tone.

“Oh, absolutely sir; good day to you.

“Mrgh…whatever…”





I swear, stepping inside the town felt like I’d stepped into the Sherlock Holmes movie; you know, minus the humans.

The streets were packed with, to my surprise, many different species.

Turns out, there were actually three types of theses ponies. First there were the normal ones (by that I mean in shape, but there wasn’t anything normal about their color-schemes). Then there were unicorns and pegesi… no, seriously, I’m not making shit up, there were fucking unicorns and pegesi; it was like I was in some kind of fairy tale for little girls.

Another weird thing I had noticed about them was the fact that they all seemed to have tattoos on their asses that I had guessed was supposed to represent their role in society.

Then I saw these bird things that I knew instantly were griffins.

And then there were these dog creatures, varying in shape and size.

‘…yeah, I’m beginning to think I’m just on a really intense acid trip.’

“Extra, Extra!” a small colt shouted on top of a crate, waving a newspaper around, “Read all about it: Hindentitanic Sinks Minutes after Its First Takeoff!”

‘Hindentitanic? Ha! Of course something named after the two biggest engineering fiascos of the Twentieth Century failed…wait a minute, how the hell is he holding that...?’

“Alright, alright, yar had enough tah drink, now git outta here!” a stallion yelled, dragging a very drunk
Old pony out of a bar.

“He,he, what wouldja do with the drunken sailor-“

‘NO, seriously; how in the flying fuck is that colt holding that thing?!’

“Look, I’m sorry, ok! I’ve had a really slow week. Listen, I promise I’ll have the money for you tomorrow, alright?”

I overheard what was probably either a shakedown, or a landlord collecting rent; so, I naturally turned my attention n the direction of the conversation.

What I saw was a bronze unicorn standing in front of some kind of repair-shop, making him the owner. Facing him, was a group of five of those dog-things, one of them probably being six foot eleven, with yellow colored fur, wearing a bowler-hat. They all wore suits without jackets that all looked askew and were covered in soot.

It was clear that these wear no landlords.

“Oy don’t fink so, Cogsworth. Lock-jaw may be a patient stou-yen, but he sure as hell don’t like taw-dee-ness.” The tall one said, in a thick, Liverpool accent.

Yup, this was definitely a shake-down.

“You pwomised to ‘ave da bits by noon tah-day… eet’s now half-pawst twelve, an’ you cleawly don’t ‘em.”

My inner paragon was starting to kick in; there was no way I was just going to stand there and let these thugs beat this poor guy senseless for not being able to pay money he obviously shouldn’t owe. But what could I do about it? …then again, I do have a new body, so maybe I have built-in weapons?
Just as those thoughts crossed my mind, my HUD, once again, began conveniently telling me about my body’s features.   

TASER-HAND. DELIVERS SHOCKS AT 1000 VOLTS. RECOMMENDED FOR NON-LETHAL METHOD OF TAKEDOWN.

SOLDERING BLADES. TWO FOOT LONG RETRACTABLE BLADES LOCATED IN THE TOP OF THE WRIST. CAPABLE OF REACHING TEMPRATURES OF UP TO 1,000 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT. RECOMMEND FOR LETHAL METHOD OF TAKEDOWN.

STROBING OCULAR LIGHT. FLASHING LIGHT, BUILT INTO OCULAR LENS. RECOMMENDED BLINDING AND DISORIETING ASSAILANTS.

‘Whoa, I’m armed to the teeth! But what am I made of?

TITANIUM ALLOY

So, I’m also durable as hell and light-weight, nice. So, I CAN do something about these thugs.

“You we-mem-bah wot Lock-jaw said about being taw-dee. Oy fink it was somefing about bweakin’ your legs, ‘an smashin’ your teef een.”

“W-wait! You can’t just beat me in the middle of the street! There are witnesses all over the place!”

“Cah-mon now Cogsworth; you know thewe ain’t nobody wit eenuff balls to stand up tah the Jug-Street Colts. Now hold still, this’ll take less toim if you just-“

“Is there a problem here, gents?” I suddenly spoke up.

The entire group of dogs and the stallion (apparently named Cogsworth) turned their heads in my direction. The smaller dogs looked a bit pissed off at me, while Cogsworth just looked at me with an expression that said: ‘What the hell are you doing?! Get out of here!’

But the tall one had a look that was a mix of confusion and irritation. 

“Oy, piss off, wanka. Dis ain’t none ‘a your business.”

“I’m sorry, but it seems as though you’re harassing that innocent pony; and I just can’t abide by that…”

Now the Dog was really pissed. He turned away from Cogsworth, facing me full-front. He took a few steps toward me, before stopping, arms length away.

“You listen ‘ere shwimp. If oy wutin’t dealin’ wif dis deadbeat, cok-suka right now, oy sweh on me mum, oy’d bash ye fookin ‘ead in.” he said, poking with his finger.

“Well, that would be a rather impressive feat, considering ‘m noggin’ is made of titanium” *DONG DONG* “just like the rest of me!” I knocked on my head to get my point across.

“Are you bein’ smaht wif me?” the dog’s anger was rising.

“Now, now; just because I’m using words you can’t understand, dosen’t mean I’m ‘bein’ smaht wif you’”

The Dog’s jaw went slightly slack, giving him a slight ‘duuuh’ expression, as he cocked his head to the left.

“And before you feel inclined to ask if I’m implying you’re stupid, I’m not implying it… I’m inferring it.”

The dog’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.

“Oh… It means you ARE stupid.”

It was as if the light-bulb in the idiot’s head flickered to life (or, in his case, a candle). But now, he was pretty much seething.

“YOU WOT, MATE?!” 

And he balled up his fist, rearing back. Suddenly, all time began to slow to a pause, as my HUD began to work its magic. First it highlighted the projected arc of the dog’s swing, so I now knew exactly where he would strike me if I didn’t stop him. It then showed me exactly where I should meet his punch and when I should do so. I could do anything at this point, but I decided to go with the most obvious answer.

In a flash, time sped back up again and I put up my hand, meeting his strike with a *SMACK*.

“Uh- urgh?!” the dog made a sound akin to my granddad when he has no idea what was going on (which was about ninety percent of the time.)

“Oh wow, three hundred pounds of force, impressive, though not enough to even faze me…” I said with a slight bit of haughtiness. If my face didn’t lack any resemblance to a human, I would be smiling like a maniac.

Before the dog could say anything else, I sent a charge of 1,000 volts into my hand, delivering a very nasty shock. The dog began to violently convulse, saliva foaming at his mouth as he screamed in agony.  

“GAAAABRRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAH!”

After a few moments of letting the mutt cook, I released his fist, allowing his to stagger about before falling flat on his face.
The other dogs just Stared at their biggest guy’s unconscious, smoking body. They all began to stutter uncontrollably. Cogsworth just stood there with his jaw touching the cobbled street, awestruck at what had just occurred. Geez, I really must have broke these guys.

“He… HE KILLED DREGER!”One of the medium sized dogs cried.

“YOU BASTARD!” the littlest one added.

“Oh, no I didn’t! He’s only stunned…although you may want to get him to a doctor; and change his clothes, he seems to have soiled himself.” 

The dogs hastily took my advice, hoisting Dreger over their heads, and rushing down the street. satisfied with my  victory, I placed my hands on my hips.

“And that takes care of that!”

“That… that was amazing!”

I turned to see Cogsworth staring wide eyed at me.

How in Celestia’s name did you do that!” he marveled.

‘Celestia? ‘Must be some kind of deity.

“Errr, even if I did explain it to you, you really wouldn’t understand. But enough about me; are you alright? And who were those thugs?”

“You must be new in town… those were some of the Jug-Street Colts; the gang that basically owns the whole town. I… I owed them protection money, but I couldn’t get them the bits on time.”

“Ah, I was right; but if you’re having trouble with these punks, why not take it up with the authorities? Surely they can take care of them?” 

Cogsworth shook his head “They would if they could, but the Jug-Street colts outnumber the guards twenty to one! And most of them are diamond dogs, and they can hear all the way across town; so even if the city guard tries to pick off one group at a time, they can just call for help and the others will come running! Most of the time, guards will accept bribes to look the other way anyhow”

‘So, we’ve got a gang that controls the city, corrupt guards, and helpless merchants being bullied… this looks like a job for vigilante justice!’

“I might be able to do something about this. Do you know where they like to hideout?”

Cogsworth looked at me strange “Well, yes, everyone does. They live in the old whiskey distillery on Jug-Street; it’s on the other side of town. But what are you going to do about it?”

“Their boss, lock-jaw was it? I’m going to pay him a… oh, what’s that word again?”

“…Visit?”

“Beating, I’m going to pay him a beating.” I said, smugly.

“Oh… well, g-good luck with that?”

Right before I headed off, I noticed something on the ground. Apparently, Dreger dropped his bowler-hat. 

‘Hmm, I’ve always liked those.’ I thought to myself.

I bent over, picking up and wiping the dirt off of it. It looked surprisingly clean, considering who it belonged to. I placed it on my head, turning toward a shop window to take a good look at myself. I admired myself for a good minute before saying.

“It’s a keeper.”
> Chapter III: I'll hook ye in the gabba, I swear on me mum
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Günter was a simple dog. He was never known to be the smart type, nor inquisitive. As long as something seamed to sway in his favor, he was perfectly content with it.

So when Lockjaw appointed him as the front door’s guard, he didn’t give so much as a groan of annoyance, harrumph or depressed sigh.

So, here he would sit, day in and day out, a crate full of whiskey at his side and a knife and a block of wood in his paws. He would sit here for hours on end, letting fellow Jug-Street colts in and keeping trouble-makers out.

But, of course, this is not Günter’s story.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Cah’min, cah’min” he grunted, picking himself up off his seat and moving toward the door.





I waited patiently at the door of the old distillery. It was easy enough to find this place, what was going to hard was probably getting into this place without having to kick the-

A small window in the door opened, revealing a pair of eyes.

“Watcha ‘ere for?” droned the doorman.

‘Oh fuck, gotta improvise…’

“I’m here on account of business; I’d like to see your boss, Lockjaw.”I said as calmly as I could, hoping I would pass off as one of Lockjaw’s benefactors.

‘Well, it looks like I’m going to have to smack a-‘  

“…Alroight, cah-mon een.” The Diamond dog said as the he closed the window and began unlocking the door.

‘Wait, that actually worked?!’

The door opened, revealing a dog that was slightly shorter than me that had a seemingly permanent nonchalant expression plastered across his face. With a wave of his hand (or paw, I suppose) he invited me in.

“Thank you, kind sir”

“Sure, sure…” he mumbled, plopping down on his chair, carving a block of wood with a knife.

‘Hmm… either he’s simply stupid, or he just doesn’t particularly care… either way, bonus for me.’

SUNLIGHT OBSCURED. 48 HOURS OF POWER REMAINING

‘And I’m apparently solar powered; double bonus.’





Well, I must say they have a pretty nice set up in this old place. For a bunch of squatters turned street gang, they really know how to spruce things up.

I was on the distillery floor, and I had just stepped into what seemed to be this town’s version of the “Ragged Flagon”.

The bar was made of old shipping crates, most likely stolen from the harbor. The hutch (which appeared to have been fished OUT of the harbor, judging by the amount of mildew on its surface) appeared to be filled with nothing but crappy, knock-off whiskey, which seemed appropriate, considering this place, was once used to make such drinks.  

There was also a large collection of round, musty, wooden tables, that some of the gang members were using to play cards. There was also an old billiard table that was missing a few pockets; this became evident when one of the dogs playing sunk a ball into one of said pockets, causing the ball to land on his opponent’s foot.

“Oi’m tellin ya mates, Oi know wot Oi saw!”

I heard a very familiar voice talking at very audible volumes. I looked over to one of the playing tables, and spotted the small dog from Dredger’s debt-collecting posse. He was literally standing on top of the table, waving his tiny arms as he blathered on about me roasting Dredger like a turkey.

“He just caught Dredger’s panch loik it was nuffin! Den he used some koind of freaky magik an’ zapped him!”

“An’ loik Oi said: Oi don’t give a rat’s ‘airy arse! Now git off da fookin’ tay-bull!” one of the other dogs shouted.

“But Dredger’s in the bloody ‘ospital! An’ that shiny met’l bloke is probably ‘eadn’ this way roight-“

“*AHEM*!”

Right after I cleared my throat (or, rather made the sound, since I don’t have a throat to clear) every yokel in the bar redirected their attention toward me. They appeared to be trying to give me their best murderous glare but were failing miserably thanks to them being utterly stupefied by the sight of me.

The moment the small dog saw me his eyes grew to the size of soccer-balls.

“Oy! That’s him, mates! That’s the guy Oi’m on about!”

“Who? Me?” I said, in a faux innocent tone.

The other dogs scoffed at this.

“This is him?! You shittin’ me, Scrappy? Oi could take this pencil-neck any day a da week!”

“Oi sweah it, mates, that’s him!” Scrappy (yeah, literally, Scrappy) shouted, before turning back to me. “It’s thanks tah this wanka, that Dredger in da ‘ospital, cryin’ loik a pup!”

The entire tavern exploded with laughter; I suppose Dredger wasn’t as popular as I had originally hypothesized.


“I don’t think you’re doing your friend any good.” I chuckled slightly.


Scrappy shrunk a little, as the tavern’s Patrons continued to guffaw at the thought of the big, tough Dredger crying like a baby. I joined in, chuckling along with them until the laughter finally died down.  

…

I briefly wondered how long it would take these idiots to remember that I was here, trespassing in their little clubhouse.

…

“OY! Wait a secund! Wot choo’ doin in ‘ere!?”

‘One minute and five seconds, faster than I’d thought.’

“Oh I’m so glad you asked… you see, I don’t like the fact that your boss has you dimwitted thugs strutting about this town, bullying people into paying for protection, beating the weak in the streets in full view of the populace, acting like you’re hot shit, and... OH. MY. GOD. Half of you idiots are wearing trilbies; fucking TRILBIES! But aside from that, I don’t like your little gang’s attitude. So, I’m here to do something about it…”

In that moment, the bar’s patrons stood up, knowing full-well where I was going with this.

“Simply put: I’m here to kick ass and chew bubble-gum… and I can’t chew gum.”

The gang immediately got into offensive stances. A handful of them pulled out knives, batons, leather-billies and broke the bottoms off of the empty whiskey-bottles lying around. A few of them even picked up what looked like make-shift machetes made of fan-blades.
Time slowed to a pause as I began counting each of the patrons. 

‘Ten dogs……..six griffins……..four ponies…..this’ll be fun….”

UPDATING COMBAT SYSTEMS

Suddenly, there was an intense surge of activity in my coordinative-matrix.

LOADING…

LOADING…

LOADING…

UPDATE COMPLETE

After the activities died down, all I could think was:

‘I know kung-fu…’

Well, not really, just some mixed martial arts. But, joking aside, I was primed and ready to crack some skulls.

ACTIVATING COMBAT MODE

NON-LETHAL PARAMETERS ENGAGED

My HUD began highlighting each of the thugs with circles; each one of them displaying their vitals 

9 ARMED HOSTILES, 11 UNARMED

CHANCES OF SUCCESS: 98.5%

Oh, I love my new body better every second.

ENGAGE

I balled up my fists and took up a defensive pose. At that moment the group of thugs tensed up, ready to fight. As they began to draw closer, I said the first thing that came to mind:

“Your move, creeps.”

One of the dogs took that as an invitation to charge in. He reared his right fist back, going for a haymaker punch. I responded by raising my left arm, stopping his punch. With the dog now open for a counter attack, I delivered a swift, under-handed punch to the dog’s gut. The dog reeled over from the pain, granting me another opening. I took advantage of said opening by upper-cutting him in the jaw, sending him flying backward.



HOSTILE ASSESSMENT


SEVERAL BROKEN RIBS


JAW BROKEN


POSSIBLE CONCUSSION 


STATUS: INCAPACITATED 

‘One dimwit down, nineteen to go…’

Just as I was about to pick another target, my vision flickered slightly as wooden splinters flew over my head.

I turned around and saw a griffin standing before me. He was holding the remains of a chair that he’d evidently bashed over my head. Given that I don’t feel pain, and the fact that the chair was rotting to pieces anyway, I was left completely unfazed. It was thanks to my indifference to being struck with something that would have rendered any mammal of my size unconscious, the griffin that had assailed me had a slack-jawed look on his face.

Before I could make some sort of witty one-liner, one of the dogs rushed up behind me, putting me into a full-nelson. The griffin then snapped out of his trance and put up his claws, his intentions of attempting to rip me apart apparent. Despite the fact that he’d have no chance of cutting through my titanium hull with claws made of keratin, I wasn’t going to let him try and risk damaging my vest.

So, right as he approached me, I did the only thing I could do and I kicked him…

…right in between his legs.

Right after doing so, I came to regret it as I suddenly understood the gravity of that action. Given the substance my body is made of, and how hard I hit him, I more than likely reduced the poor bird’s testicles to mush.

But I supposed that there was no use crying over spilled milk.

As the bird dropped, I twisted my arms around, grabbing a hold of the dog’s head, sending a charge of electricity through his skull.         

Right when the dog released me I saw movement to my left. It was a more slender dog, armed with a knife he was holding underhanded.


Just as he was right on top of me, he attempted a downward stab. However, I simply seized his wrist, twisting it around and pinning it to his back. The dog dropped the knife from the pain.

“Hey, guess what?” 

“W-w-w-w-wot?” the dog said through the pain.

“Kidney-punch!”

BAM

“AAAAAAAAAAAH, WHY?!”

I responded by forcing my foot down onto the back of his leg, consequently forcing him down to his knees. His head now accessible, I delivered a strike to the back of his head with the blade-edge of my hand, knocking him out.

“Wot choo gits doin’?! Kill em’!” one of the dogs shouted as I turned to face the rest of the group. I spotted a fairly large dog standing two meters away from me. He had picked up one of the lengths of chain lying around and was heading for me. Just as I readied myself for his attack, he swung the length of chain. Time once again slowed to a pause as I planned my rebuttal.

‘What to do with this one, I could catch the chain and pull him right into my fist, or maybe… wait a moment…’

Using my HUD, I measured the length of chain, then the distance between me and the dog, and came to the very amusing conclusion that-

‘That isn’t even going to hit me, not by a long shot’

So I simply stood idle, allowing the dog to take his swing. Time returned to normal and the dog swung the chain. As I had predicted, the chain passed swung past my face, missing me by five inches. To make matters even more amusing, the chain slipped from his paws and went flying, hitting a griffin and two ponies in their faces, knocking them unconscious. As the dog responsible gawked at his handy work, I took an opportunity to rush at him.

“Looks like someone rolled a natural 1!”

And with that one-liner, I delivered a round-house kick to his face, sending him tumbling to the ground. Right before my foot returned to the ground, something slammed into my side, knocking me to the wet ground. 

I looked up to see my attacker, a griffin, holding his left arm as he winced in pain. He must have dislocated his arm when he slammed into me, judging by the fact that it was dangling in a weird way. Despite this, the griffin quickly shook off the pain and lifted his machete.

I quickly began looking around me for something to use to defend myself, as I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to test how effective the griffin’s machete was going to be against me. In an instant, I found an object within arm’s reach; a ball-peen hammer.

‘Perfect!’

As I looked back up, the griffin was charging for me, machete held overhead. Hastily, I held up my left hand.

“STOP”

The griffin did as I told him to out of confusion for my choice of words. As he gawked, I grabbed the hammer with my right hand and held it over my head.

“HAMMER TIME!”

And with that, I threw it right into his face, knocking him out before he even hit the ground. But that small victory was short-lived as a group of seven of the thugs came at me with weapons, clearly preparing to mob me.

‘Oh fuck, what do I do now?!’ I panicked as the chances of my success began to dwindle. But just as I was prepared to brace myself for them to dog-pile me, I remembered I was lying in a half an inch of water. It was then that I got a very nasty idea. Right as the group closed in on me, I sent a charge of electricity to my hand and slammed it down into the puddle I was lying in.

The entire group began to convulse as the electrified water they were standing in fried their nerves. After giving it enough time, I took my hand out of the water. The entire group collapsed in a heap, moaning from the pain.

I quickly sprang to my feet, ready to take the rest of the gang on. I did a quick sweep of the room with my vision, checking the number of the rest of the gang, all that remained was one dog, a griffin and a unicorn. Just as I prepared for one of the saps to charge me a loud metallic clatter rang throughout the distillery. I looked over to the source of the noise and saw that the griffin had dropped his machete and was shaking in his boots.

“F-f-f-fuck this noise; I don’t wanna die!”

And without warning he took flight and flew out a hole in the ceiling. As I watched him go I shook my head in disappointment.

“Pity.”

I suddenly noticed another sound, a light hum. I looked down and saw that the unicorn’s horn was lit up, as if charging a beam of some sort. Before I had a chance to react, a pulse of light shot from the unicorn’s horn and hit me in the chest. Right as it hit, my HUD was reduced to static and my limbs began to malfunction.

“GAH! What the fuck, shit shit shit!”
It became clear that the beam had similar properties to an EMP. This meant that I was vulnerable to this “magic” unicorns seemed to posses; I was going to have to be cautious from now on if I needed to deal with them.

Went I regained control over my body and my vision returned to normal, I saw that the pony was awestruck that his attack had done anything at all. He then snapped out of his surprise and began to charge his horn again, but like hell I was going to let him do what he did to me again. So, I rushed him, rearing both my hands back with my palms open, with the intention of slapping him in the ears. However, I didn’t anticipate that he was going to lower his head down to point the horn at me, so I missed his ears and hit his horn instead. The result was a shattering of bone as my hands crush his horn.

What happened next was odd. In a split second, he screamed, vomited, soiled himself and passed out simultaneously. I would later find out that a unicorn’s horn was basically an insulated nerve, which explained his reaction.

As I stepped away from the pony, making sure none of his fluids got on me, I turned and faced the last of the thugs; none other than Scrappy.

I began walking toward the now terrified dog, his ears drooping down. Right as I reached striking distance, the tiny and helpless dog began to stammer.

“W-w-w-w-wot are you?”

In response, I bent down really close, to the point where he could see the aperture of my ocular lens, and I said:

“I r guy… that’s gon t33ch you lesson” 

Before he could even ask what I was talking about, I punt kicked him across the room.

CONFLICT RESOLVED 

Well, now that the patrons were no longer an issue, I could go after the one person I had come for, Lockjaw. I then realized that none of these guys could tell me where he was, on account of them all being unconscious. But with some quick deductive reason, and using my knowledge of movies, I concluded that Lockjaw was likely in the foreman’s office.





I wandered the upper floor of the distillery for a few minutes before my audio receptors picked up music being played from a phonograph. I followed the music coming to a door with an opaque, glass window with ‘Foreman’ painted on in black letters. I went for the door handle, only to find that it was locked. Me jiggling the handle caused a voice to call out from inside.

“Huh, what, who’s there? I told you idiots to leave me in peace!” the voice said.

Deciding I wasn’t going to politely ask permission to come in, I punched a hole in the window, grabbing the door handle on the other side and letting myself in.

I stepped inside the office, greeted by the sight of a gray stallion with a black mane, an angry and confused look on his face. His butt-tattoo was what appeared to be a bear-trap. I continued to scan the room, admiring the furniture, pictures and what appeared to be a map of the town with thumb-tacks pinned to certain parts of the town.

“W-who are you…WHAT are you?!”  The stallion yelled, who I’d deduced was Lockjaw the moment I saw him.

“I must say, you’ve got a pretty nice office for some wannabe Al Capone.” I said, ignoring his questions.
“How did you get in here, how did you get past my boys?!”

“Well the doorman just let me inside, and your boys… well they’re incapacitated at the moment.” I said with a chuckle. Lockjaw seemed to grow angrier at this, gritting his teeth.

“Bloody… what do those idiots think I’m paying them for?”

He looked up at me, still angry.

“What do you want from me?!”

“Well it’s funny you should ask” I said, taking a few steps toward him. “You see, I just came into town and I couldn’t help but notice your little club harassing the citizens of this town. If there is one thing I hate most, its scum who can’t make their living without shitting on the weak. You and your gang are a prime example of that.”

I’m not going to lie, I was spewing complete bullshit, but I was crushing the whole “heroic speech” thing. As I stepped toward him, Lockjaw began to nervously back away from me, until he was stopped by the wall behind him.

“N-no! Get away from me!”

“Pathetic… all these thugs prostrating themselves to you, the town cowering at your gang’s presence, all this fear of your wrath, and as soon as you’ve got no one to back you up you fold?! This is it; the fearsome Lockjaw, leader of the Jug-Street Colts?! I came up here expecting a stallion, but instead I get a sniveling little colt!”

Totally crushing it.

Just as I reached arms length of him, Lockjaw made one final act of resistance and tried running past me. Of course, I was able to stop him by put out my arm, clothes-lining him.

“Ah ah AH!” I waggled my finger on my free arm. “You’re not getting out of this that easily!” I seized him by the throat, bringing him to the wall and pinning him there. Just as I pinned him to the wall I noticed a “wanted” poster on pinned to it right next to his face.

WANTED

10,000 bit reward for Lockjaw

Racketeering, drug dealing, fraud, counterfeit, assault and battery, vandalism, destruction of public property, arson, theft, armed-robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, forgery, vagrancy and loitering.

“Oh look, it’s you!” I humorously pointed out. “Tell me, is this poster up to date?”

Lockjaw began stammering, trying to formulate a sentence.

“You know what; don’t tell me, I want it to be a surprise!”

“Wuh-what do you mean? What do you want-“ Lockjaw stuttered out.

“You and I are going on a little trip down-town!” I said whimsically.

“W-wait, no! don’t turn me in; I-I-I can make you rich! I’ll promise you a cut of my quarterly!”

“Oh, you’re already going to make me rich, silly!”

“Wha-“

“Nighty-night!”

BAM





Lockjaw slung over my shoulder, I walked with a spring in my step, satisfied with my deliverance of raw justice. And with my task through, I was prepared to collect ten thousand bits, whatever that was worth.

Just as I turned the corner to the exit, I remembered that I’d forgotten to remember something: the doorman. I froze up as I saw him, expecting him to charge at me that very moment. But instead, he lazily looked up from the block of wood he was widdling and stared for a few moments. When he noticed Lockjaw’s unconscious body he raised his eyebrows.

“Hm, ‘see Lockjaw finally got wot was cah’min to ‘em.” He said quietly, looking back down at the block of wood.

Hell yeah, I was confused.

“You don’t care…?” I asked. He just shrugged.

“Nevah really cared much for the Jug Street Colts to begin wif.”

“But… what are you going to do for a living?”

“ ‘Job as a carpenter sounds noice.”

I quietly stared at him for a few moments.

“Well… um… have a good night.”

“ ‘Ave a safe trip ‘ome.” He said without looking up.

As the door shut behind me and I walked down the cobbled street, I thought to myself:

“What a swell fellow…”
	
> Chapter IV: Getting Paid Before Getting a Job
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I was quite proud of myself, as well as surprised that I had any of what I’d unleashed upon the thugs in me. I had never fought in my life before then, mostly because I’d didn’t look like a nerd as a child and managed to stay out of any fights. The fact that I could do all of that from some kind of programming update was almost mind-boggling. Then again, I wasn’t human anymore so I’d naturally be able to do extraordinary things.


While carrying the unconscious Lockjaw, I continued to ponder on the other things I might be able to do. Considering how my bodies features seemed to reveal themselves when the situation called for them, I guessed I had to wait and see. 


After asking around for the town for directions, I made it to Steamport’s police headquarters. On the way to the door, I noticed a few ponies dressed in what I had expected the police of a Victorian society to wear: blue uniforms with those stereotypical tall helmets. I thought back to the ponies I saw wearing that silly golden-armor. I had theorized that they were some sort of military detachment; even then, the armor was a bit too ridiculous no matter what the reason they had for using it. The only reason I could think of was that they were trying to be traditional, but still, golden Hoplite-armor is just stupid. 


I opened the door of the station, revealing a not-so-busy floor full of police officers. The place was full of desks, most of them occupied by ponies that seemed to be hardly working at all. Just as I was about to ask how to turn Lockjaw in, my audio-receptors picked up a heated conversation between two ponies, one of whom I recognized by their voice.


I followed the sound and saw the guard-captain I had spoken to at the gate earlier that day. In front of him was a pony I quickly deduced to be police chief, judging by his more decorated helmet and bushy mustache.


“I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running here, chief, but it sure as Tartarus isn’t a police force,” The captain said angrily, “How in Celestia’s name could you just let this town be run by these hooligans?!”


“Look, captain,” the chief began, “I understand your concerns, but were just too under-staffed to tackle these issues. We can’t just waltz in to the distillery and-” 


“*AHEM*” 


I made a throat clearing noise to catch their attention. Sure enough, they, along with the rest of the police station, looked to me. The captain was the first to speak, thanks to the fact that he recognized me.


“You again? What in Equestria are you-“ 


His gaze trailed toward the unconscious pony slung over my shoulder. Within an instant his expression changed to anger as he came to the worst possible conclusion.


“I knew I shouldn’t have let you in!” he shouted as he turned his head to the left, using his teeth to grab the short-sword at his-


‘OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!’


“Oh, calm down,” I said, putting my hands up, “I’m here to turn in a bounty,” I took Lockjaw off my shoulder and held up his head to show them who he was. The entire staff’s eyes went wide as they recognized Lockjaw’s ugly-mug.


“I-is that Lockjaw? The leader of the Jug-street Colts?!” the chief said, dumbfounded by the sight of the wanted criminal. In response, I took an opportunity to be a sarcastic dick.


“Noooooo! See, this is Lockjaw’s secret, identical twin brother, Stiff Chin! He runs a pastry shop down the lane!”  I said as I had a hold of Lockjaw’s mane and was shaking his head about comically.


The captain was still shocked by all of this, but he hesitantly sheathed his highly impractical sword.


“How did you manage to capture him? How did you get past his thugs?” the captain inquired.


“Well, I introduced myself to them and after mopping the wet, moldy floor with every last one of them, I went upstairs, decked our friend here in the shnoze,” I pointed at Lockjaw, “And here I am!” 


“Is that so,” the captain said, his expression souring as he turned his head and looked at the police chief. “I suppose that it would be appropriate for you to be reimbursed for this.” He turned to one of the armored guards “Escort this creature to the bank.”


The guard stepped forward, motioning with his head for me to follow him. I let go of Lockjaw, prompting two officers to drag him away. While heading out the door, something crossed my mind that I found so amusing that I couldn’t help but share.


“Oh, by the way,” I said loud enough to collect the attention of everyone in the station, “since the Jug street Colts’ leader is being locked-up, I suspect that there will be a power-struggle that will result in the formation of several other gangs…” the last few words caused the chief’s face to sag with an ‘Oh god dammit’ expression. “Sooooo, you guys have fun with that! ‘Toodles!” I did jazz-hands as I backed out of the station.







Cogsworth had just had a very eventful day. Just this morning, he was scared to death that he was going to get beaten to a pulp by Lockjaw’s debt collectors. Just as he was about to be, a strange bipedal creature came by. Not only did he rescue him, but also sent the gang members packing. Last he had seen him, the creature had set off to confront Lockjaw. He wasn’t entirely sure what the creature was thinking when he thought he could take on Lockjaw and his gang. Still, he admired the creature’s nerve.


Cogsworth was closing up shop, getting ready to head upstairs; his last costumer had left an hour ago. As he trotted toward the stairs, he briefly wondered what became of the stranger that helped him.


*KNOCK-KNOCK *


“…At this hour?”







After rapping on his door, I heard Cogsworth moving toward the entrance of the workshop. After retrieving the reward I had received for Lockjaw's capture, I decided to pay Cogsworth a visit. The way I saw it, he was the only one in this town that I’d actually engaged in friendly conversation with, and he was the only one who could do anything to immediately benefit my career as of right now, what with owning a workshop and all.


I heard a few *snik* sounds as Cogsworth unlocked the door’s several locks. When the final latch was undone, the door opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Cogsworth. It took him a second to process what he was looking at before he recognized me.


“O-oh, it’s you…” he trailed off.  I had guessed at the time that he had not expected to see me again, and I would later find my speculation to be correct.


“Yes hello, I’m dreadfully sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but I’ve come to give you a bit of good news.” I began “You’ll be pleased to know that Lockjaw has been incarcerated.”


Cogsworth’s expression was blank for a moment before he was able to take in what I had said.


“…You mean… you actually went down to that horrible place and caught him?!”


“Oh, not only that, I also managed to hospitalize nineteen of the members he had stationed outside his little hidey-hole.”


“You…n-nineteen of them?!”


“Well, it would have been an even twenty, if one of them hadn’t chickened out. I honestly expected for them to put up a better fight. I mean, it was a twenty on one open brawl.” 


Cogsworth’s mouth had dropped open, wondering how I could possibly be serious.


“But really, they aren’t relevant anymore. Thanks to fact that I single handedly captured a criminal of Lockjaw’s standing, I have now come upon a fairly large sum of money.” I said as I went for the bag tucked underneath my sash. “That is if ten thousand bits is considered a large sum of money”


For a moment, I thought that his eyes were going to bulge out of his head.


“That’s… that’s enough bits to pay my rent for ten months…”


“Is that so? Well then I suppose you can help me.”
Cogsworth’s ears perked up and he cocked his head to the left, likely wondering what kind of help he could possibly provide.


“You see, I just came into town this afternoon. I don’t really have connections here, or anywhere else for that matter. The reason I came here in the first place was because I needed to jumpstart my career, I though with being an industrial town an individual of my profession would be well accommodated. All I really need is a bit of scrap metal.” 


“Well, I’m not quite sure what you would do with it,” He began, “But you could always use the scrap I have in the back room.” He said, stepping off to one side to invite me in, “What exactly do you do for a living?”


“Well, I-“ 


What happened next, I couldn’t explain. In an instant, I struck a “soldier at attention” pose.


“Unit #1940397860199485, engineer caste, pattern: 940 delta.” I blurted out in a robotic tone (as redundant as that may sound).


As soon as I snapped out of my trance, I looked at Cogsworth to see if he was freaking out. He wasn’t, but he had an expected ‘what the fuck just happened’ look on his face. If I still had a face that was capable of conveying human emotion, I’m pretty sure I would be sharing the same expression.


“Uh, I’m not quite sure what happened just then; but to answer your question, I was an engineer up until recently, now I’m a freelance inventor I suppose.” I said, trying to cover up my odd outburst. Thankfully, Cogsworth’s expression brightened when he heard what my profession was.


“An inventor! Why didn’t you say so!” he said with excitement, “If that’s the case then by all means, Feel free to stay as long as you like!” 


He gestured for me to follow him. He led me past the counter and around a corner to a door. He opened it and flicked switch, causing an incandescent-bulb to flicker to life on the ceiling.


‘What do you know, they aren’t as far behind as I thought.’ 


It was a bit of a shame that I wasn’t going to be able to “invent” the light-bulb just to piss on the grave of that dick Edison; but I guessed it couldn’t have been that easy.


The room was a bit small, about the same size as a mobile home. There were shelves all along the front wall, filled with all sorts of miscellaneous metallic junk. At the far end of the room there was a small smelter, likely used to melt the scrap on the wall. Finally there was a work bench on the back wall lined with tools.


“Will this do?” Cogsworth asked expectantly.


“Perfect, just what I needed.” I said, stepping inside, “Thank you very much, Cogsworth.”


“No, no, you’ve done so much for me, for the whole town! Thank you mister-” Cogsworth stopped, his eyes squinting, “I’m sorry, but I never did get your name,”


His question caught me a bit off guard, as I hadn’t even considered a name to go by. But this issue was quickly solved as I was able to think faster and come up with an appropriate name.


“Nikolas” 


Despite how odd my name was must have sounded to him, he thanked me.


“Before I retire, can I ask a small favor?” he inquired.


“Ask away,”


“If it isn’t to much trouble, could you take a look at some of the appliances I have out on the front counter? I could definitely use some extra help with the repairs, and I’d be more than willing to give you a cut of my pay.” 


If it meant getting a few extra bits to help my career forward, I was game.


“Absolutely, I’ll have a look as soon as I familiarize myself with everything in here.”


With that, Cogsworth bid me goodnight and left me to the solitude of the workshop. Given the fact I was a robot, there was no longer any need for me to sleep, so what better time was there to start working then right then and there. I turned to face the back wall, looking for things I could use. As I began looking, my HUD began highlighting all the object’s as I looked at them, breaking them down to their base components and displaying their mass and volume in an instant. In response to this new development, I could only respond with:


“MY GOD, I CAN SEE EVERYTHING!”   
	
	 
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter V: Inspiration In a Flash of Gunpowder
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After spending the night and early morning fixing every single appliance Cogsworth had laid out (apparently I was equipped with a enough precision tools to arm a nuclear warhead) I began thinking over what I could possibly create that would generate enough demand to be worthy of mass-production. I needed something that would be extremely practical for the people of this world. I couldn’t settle for something like a better mouse-trap, or a gimmicky piece of kitchenware. No, it had to be something that would aid progress, speed up production, create jobs or even entirely new professions, something that everyone would need if they wanted to keep up with their competitors. In the middle of my pondering, the door opened to reveal Cogsworth standing just outside, a plate of food levitating next to him. I made a mental note to ask him to tell me more about these powers unicorns seem to possess.

“Good morning,” he began, “I hope you like spinach; it’s the only thing in my icebox right now.”

“Your too kind,” I said, “But I’m afraid that it won’t be necessary.” I tried to be as apologetic as possible, but it was still incredibly rude to turn down my host’s food. Cogsworth didn’t seem offended, he instead looked confused that I was attempting to skip breakfast.

“But…aren’t you-“

I held up my hand to stop him.

“This is going to sound odd, but I don’t require food for sustenance.”

It took him a moment to process what I’d said to him. Before he could question what I had said, I decided to lay the rest of the odd things about my body on him; it was best I got everything out of the way.

“I don’t sleep either, I’m afraid. The only thing I need to live is to stand in the sun every now and then.” I explained, trying not to spook him too much. Cogsworth looked as though he was going to shower me with questions, but his expression changed, making it obvious that he had decided it was more trouble than it was worth. Eagerly, he changed the subject.

“So… I notice that all the things I laid out on the counter are gone now. Did you start working on them?” he asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact-” I stepped away from the workbench, “I’ve finished them all. “

The look on Cogsworth’s face told me I had just made it a lot worse than before. 

“Well I’m going out to do some things!” I hastily said as a walked past him, “I’ll be back in a few hours!”
Before Cogsworth could ask anything else, I power-walked out the door, eager to escape the tangible awkwardness in the air.





After walking far, far away from the workshop, I continued my thoughts on what I was going to create. What could I bring these people that would conquer an industry, or even create it’s own?  On I went, pondering on numerous ideas before getting to a large round-about. I circled the round-about a few times before spotting a wooden bench. Despite the fact that I don’t get tired, something compelled me to sit down. It seemed like a pointless effort as I took in all the faults, cracks and lumps in the cobbled street. After a few minutes of nothing, I was getting ready to get up and leave, that is until-

*BLAM* 

“Da Jug Street Colts nevah doi!” a dog shouted as he pointed a narrow object up at the sky. It didn’t take long for a police officer to angrily chase him away.

“Oy, cah’mon now! It ‘asn’t even been a day!” 

As the dog ran from his pursuer, he dropped the narrow thing on the cobbled street. Curious, I stood up from the bench and walked over to the item the dog had abandoned. When I reached a distance of three feet, I recognized the object almost instantly.

“A flintlock pistol.”

The barrel was made of iron along with the hammer and pan. The hammer was bent out of shape, but I doubted that this was because of negligent maintenance or due to being old; the pistol's craftsmanship was just that poor. It lacked a trigger-guard, making me suspect that it had been removed to accommodate the dog's large digits, but upon further inspection, it appeared to have never had one in the first place. It at least had a ram-rod, or used to as it appeared to be missing. I had suspected that this pistol was home-made, but found that to be untrue when I saw the logo on the handle.

Buster Industries

The pistol was a jarring reminder of how irregular the technology was on this world. One hand they have incandescent bulbs, steam engines, and even zeppelins. But on the other hand they have flintlock pistols, short swords and didn’t seem to have power-lines. Just as began to theorize what other things technological anomalies there might be on this planet, it hit me.

These people lacked an adequate means of self-defense. The flintlock pistol is only useful in open combat and hunting. In urban environments,  the flintlock would only be useful for someone who was planning an attack on someone else. You can’t keep a flintlock loaded in preparation for an attack, the same way you can’t keep a handgun with a bullet in the chamber. Of course, with a handgun you can simply pull back the hammer as you’re unholstering it and you’ll be ready to fire it within less than a second. A flintlock pistol requires you to pull back the hammer, place black-powder into the firing pan, place a bullet in the barrel and jam it down with the ram-rod, then you’re ready to fire. 

This weapon would only be useful for someone that was getting ready for a fight, or preparing to make a sneak-attack. In hands of someone in danger of being assaulted, a flintlock was worthless. What these people needed was a firearm that could be readied in a moment’s notice. Something that would cause an attacker to have second thoughts on the off chance his victim pulled such a weapon on them. They needed a weapon that would be kept from the hands of criminals through set of strict but fair rules. They needed an equalizer.

I had then realized that I had found the very thing to invent to conquer an industry. While producing weapons as a profession was not what I had originally had in mind, but I wasn't about to let an opportunity like this just slip by. 

If I was to make a firearm of this nature, I needed a place to produce these weapons. But where to find one...





"Are you entirely sure about this investment, Sir?" The realitor pony asked as I looked over the paperwork. He had a white coat with a grey mane, dressed in a business-coat with a top hat and (as silly as it may sound) a monocle. To complete his look, he had a mutton-chop and mustache combo.

"I am absolutely sure," I said reassuringly, as I finished scanning the document for possible issues. "Am I to understand that once I purchase this property, I will own it in full, no rent?"

"Yes Sir, It'll be all yours. Although, you're going to have to make the repairs to the plumbing, roof, windows and flooring I'm afraid," The realitor said, "But on the bright-side of things, the police were gracious enough to remove the vagrant's belongings."

"Well that takes care of the first thing" I said as looked at the Jug-street whiskey-distillery.

"I must ask though," the realitor began "Why a whiskey-distillery? Steamport's one of the only towns in the colonies with pubs. In fact that's the reason it closed down in the first place." 

"I'm not planning on reopening it as a distillery. instead, I'll be repurposing it as a factory."

"I see. If everything looks in order to you, lets talk about a price. Since the place is in such disrepair, We'll be willing to part with it for around Seven-hundred and fifty bits."

"You, good sir, have a deal." I said, extending my hand. The realitor obliged, allowing me to shake his hoof.

"Excellent, sign here please."





Happy with my new investment, I walked to Cogsworth's workshop. I was was in no condition to start developing anything, what with the factory lacking any and all equipment and the workers to operate them, and I doubted my current funds wold get me anything of the sort, or at the very least not enough of it. the best thing I could do now was to go to Cogsworth an continue to assist with his repairs.

As I was only a block from the workshop, two police ponies passed be by, walking in the opposite direction.

"Damn shame, innit?" one of them said, "His entire livelihood, toy-ken from 'em loik that,"

I would come to know what he was  referring to moments later. When I turned the conner onto the street the workshop was on, I saw that Cogsworth was out front, sitting with his head held low. I looked behind him and saw that the workshop's windows were all broken. I also noticed bits of metal, cogs, cranks and other various parts were scattered along the street. realizing what all this meant, I rushed over to Cogsworth.

"Cogsworth, what's happened?! Were you robbed?!"

He looked up at me with tired eyes.

"Robbed," he laughed, "Picked clean is more like it." he hug his head back down. "I went out grocery shopping after you left, and when I came back I found my establishment in this state." he shook his head "They took everything, Nikolas; literally everything that wasn't nailed to the floor, even the sheets off my bed!"

If I still had a stomach, there would have been a huge knot in it. The remnants of the Jug street Colts must have found out where I was staying overnight. I dreaded the thought of what might have happened if Cogsworth had been here when they arrived.

"The Police weren't any help, but really, when have they ever been in this goddess forsaken town." he laughed. "the only thing the thugs left behind was this," he lifted up a note with his telekinesis. i grabbed the note and read it's contents.

You'll pay for what you did to Lockjaw, mark our words: you will get your comeuppance for the shite you pulled.

-The Sons of Lockjaw	

It seems I was right, the gang had fractured into separate gangs, and the most loyal of Lockjaw's men wanted payback.

"You know, I came to this town, thinking I'd make my family proud. Even when I got set back innumerable times I didn't ask for their help, I always thought I could keep moving forward till I had a steady business. Now look at me, my shop's destroyed, everything I own is gone..." he put his hooves on his head. "guess it's high time to move back to Trottingham."

This was all my fault. If I hadn't been so overzealous and captured the gang's leader, they would have never targeted him like this. I couldn't just let him call it quits like this and let those dregs win. I had to make this right somehow. But what could I do?

"Extra, extra, read all about it! New gangs form in wake of Lockjaw's capture!"

Speak of the devil.

"You there!" I said as I approached the brass colored colt, my hand in my coin purse (I had opened a bank account the day before) "I'll take a copy,"

After the colt shrugged off my appearance, he held out the newspaper in his hoof.

"Two bits, sir."

After paying him, I read the front page of the newspaper.



New gangs form in wake of Lockjaw's capture!


Reports are coming in that as many as four new gangs have formed after the recent capture of the infamous Lockjaw, leader of the now defunct Jug street Colts. From the information we've gathered, their names are the Sons of Lockjaw (we assume this one is the most loyal to the original leader) the Claw Gang, the Black Manticores, and the Underdogs. Chief Cobbler has denied  to make a statement on the progress made to remove these gangs from Steamport.



Reading through the article gave me an idea, not only for getting back at the gang that had ruined Cogsworth's livelihood, but also a way to get my career going.

"Say, kid, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Underdogs would you?" I asked the Colt. He looked up at me with a mischievous look on his face.

"Oi dunno, Sir. Maybe Oi do maybe Oi don't, though somefing moight be able to-"

Before he could finished the cliched line, I tossed him a sack of bits that he only barely caught with his hooves.

"Now you didn't 'ear this from me," he said as he pocketed the sack, " But Oi 'eard that the Underdogs 'is 'old up in the old Rigid Wingspan club on the ovah end 'a town."

"Excellent," I said as I turned around.

"A pleasure doin' business wiv' ya."

I now new what my ticket was to my career, and it was at the Rigid Wingspan Club. I walked past Cogsworth.

"Come, Cogsworth." I said

"W-what, what's going on?" he asked. As expected he was confused as to what my intentions were.

"You and I are about to make a Business partner."
> Chapter VI: Lying with Dogs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Look Nikolas,” Cogsworth began as he followed close behind me, “I really appreciate the gesture, I really do, but do you really think it’s a good idea to make deals of any kind with a gang?”

I had just told Cogsworth I was planning. I suspected that these gangs were at odds with each other and the only way for them to to stop fighting was for one of the to get out on top of the others. I could tell that three of the gangs were trying to take advantage of Lockjaw’s incarceration and were consolidating power in an attempt to eliminate the others and become the new Jug Street Colts. The Sons of Lockjaw were obviously trying to act as a placeholder gang, keeping the seat warm until Lockjaw got free and could command them once again. Though, considering his charges, he’d be away for a very long time. 

If Lockjaw was commanding a gang large enough to be split up into four group that were each large enough to qualify as a gang in their own rights, that meant that the Colts were more than some pissant street gang. Lockjaw was a racketeer, meaning that he didn’t deal in contraband exclusively; it was possible he had few big-time businessmen in his pocket. If Lockjaw made deals with the right people and kept a ledger of his business-partners, this gang would prove invaluable to my career.

“I have a plan Cogsworth.” I said, brushing off his concerns, “I suspect that this group was the least loyal to Lockjaw. If they recognize me as the one who took down Lockjaw that’ll be a few trust points I have with them if what I theorize is correct.”

The name ‘Underdogs’ had some heavy implications. If the gang’s leader understood the meaning of the word, it was likely that the gang was made up of members that joined up with the Colts out of desperation, the beaten down and most underprivileged members in the gang. Orphans, runaways, people who stole to survive, people trying to look out for their families; they’d jump at an opportunity to get on top. Or the leader could be a complete bell-end, and thought that the name made them sound to be the toughest guys in Steamport. I was reaching pretty hard, I know, but based upon the names of these new gangs, the Underdogs sounded the least threatening. If I was right I’d have a new business-partner, if not it would just be a repeat of the little scuffle in the distillery.

Following the town map I had purchased on the way, Cogsworth and I made our way into what appeared to be the slum part of town. A quarter of the shops and restaurants we passed were boarded up, some looking as though they had been closed for much longer than the others. Vagrants congregated in the alleyways, passing a bottle around as they discussed their crushed dreams. The street was littered with loose trash and old newspapers, making it obvious that the street was as busy as it ever gets. To complete the district’s look, an overpass of train-tracks ran right over the street. An appropriate place for a gang called the Underdogs. As I continued to take in the depressing scenery, Cogsworth spoke up.

“Look, there it is,” he pointed with a hoof. Sure enough, I looked to where he was pointing and saw the building the colt had told me about: the Rigid Wingspan Club. The building was three stories high, and had the kind of architecture you’d expect an old-timey movie-theatre would have. The building was fancy to the point that it actually clashed with the rest of the district, though it did have boarded up windows. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of club it was back in its heyday. The two of us walked to the double door entrance of the club. As we came closer, my audio-receptors began picking up the sound of people talking and bantering with one another. This was definitely the place I was looking for. When I put my hand on the door, I heard Cogsworth speak up behind me.

“Nikolas, are you sure about this?” he asked nervously.

“You don’t have to follow he in,” I suggested, “You could always stay out here.” 

Cogsworth looked around the street, a look of uncertainty on his face. Finally, Cogsworth shook his head, obviously not wanting to tempting fate on the chance that the area might have been as dangerous as it was rundown.

With nothing else delaying us, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The place’s interior was just as stylish as the exterior, or used to be before the economy and wood-rot set in. The first thing I noticed was the bar, which was filled with liquor-bottles, empty and full. Lining the windows and dotting the rest of the club were circular booths, though these didn’t look like restaurant booths, rather places to sit around, have discussions, smoke cigars and play games. I then studied the club’s patrons. 

A little more than half of them were griffins, the next majority being ponies and least amount being dogs. They all wore similar clothes to the dregs I had knocked the shit out of, except that they all seemed to have a red bandana around their necks, an obvious sigh of their devotion to the newly formed gang. As I had anticipated, all of them looked relatively young. 

Every single on of the club’s patrons turned to look at who had just come in; in fact, a griffin that had been playing the piano had hit a wrong note before stopping to look. After a few moments of silence and bitter scowling one of the griffins sitting at the bar piped up.  

“Oy, the fook d’ you wont?” the griffin said, maintaining his scowl. In an attempted gesture of politeness, I tipped my bowler-hat before speaking.

“Good afternoon gents. I understand that this is the residence of the newly formed Underdogs. I’m interested in speaking with your boss; would they be available at this time?” I asked in a calm and friendly tone. The bird cocked an eyebrow while his expression changed to an amused smile. 

“Joo ‘ear that, boys?” the griffin laugh as he pointed, “Mr. fancy trousers ‘ere wonts to talk to Sabina!”

The clubs patrons lightly chuckled.

“An’ woy the fook would Sabina wont anyfing ta do wif th’ loikes a you?” the griffin asked further, his expression changing back to a scowl.

“I’m a business man,” I reassured him, “I’m here to make her an-“ 

The bird cut me off.

“Listen ‘ere, ya poncer. We don’t fookin’ know you. As far as we can tell, your jus’ some-“ before the bird could finish, another interrupted him

“T-that’s ‘im mates! That’s the one Oi’m on about!” he said. The entire clubs attention, including mine, was now on a griffin sitting in a booth, who looked as though he had seen a ghost. It took me a second to recognize the bird as the one that flew away from the brawl at the distillery.

“That- that… fing took out ten of Lockjaw’s boys at once with some koind of magjic!” he said, his voice still shaking from the sight of me. “Beat the piss outta all the others!” 

In response, the club’s patrons scoffed.

“You’re full of shite, Connor!” one of the ponies said, laughing at the griffins story. Connor shook his head, his expression unchanging.

“Oi swear, mates! I watched ‘im kick Brewster straight in the nob!” he said, desperate at this point. The other members still refused to believe him.

“Shut et, ya fookin bell-end!” a dog yelled. With Connor silenced, the griffin at the bar spoke up again.

“Oo do you fink you are, waltzin’ in ‘ere an’ expectin’ an audience wif Sabina? This ain’t no walk-in barber-shop, ya fookin nob ‘ead. Ya need to go frew th’ propa channels to talk to ‘er.”

The griffin stood up from the bar stood, an attempt to look imposing.

“Us Undadogs carn’t jus’ let in every sod that comes in ‘ere. For all we know, you might as well be a copper troyin’ get evidence on us. Or, maybe ya from some uvah gang, troyin’ ta make a hit on us? Oo sent ya? Th’ Black Manticores? Th’ Claw Gang? All en all, we ain’t letting ya en. So woy don’t ya turn-na round, take ya fookin butler out were ya came, or we’re gonna knock ya ovah da ‘ead an’ dump ya in th’ harbor!”

As if on queue, every member stood up, donning offensive stances. A brushing against my leg told me that Cogsworth had clung to me in fear. This was my last chance to sway their decision. Maintaining my tone from the last time I’d spoken, I attempted to reason with them.

“I understand your suspicions Gents. I can swear to you, on my mortal soul, that I’m not working for-“

I heard fast movement on my left. Time slowed to a pause as I turned to the source of the sound. I saw a dog, just around four or five feet tall, with his paws held overhead. I saw what appeared to be a blunt instrument in his paws. His intentions of doing what the griffin had suggested had become obvious. Stopping this one would be much more difficult considering the fact that I couldn’t see the whole object; hence I wouldn’t be able to calculate the arc of its swing accurately. I would have to work with calculating the distance between the dog and I to get a manageable estimate, one that should work, so long as the dog didn’t under-shoot or over-shoot the swing. Once I made my estimate, I held up my left hand, hoping that I had made a proper judgment.

*CLANG*


I was correct.

The object turned out to be an iron fireplace-poker, something that would have done damage to my head If it had actually hit me. Albeit, I suspected the worst it could have done was dent my hull or knock something loose, but it was best not to test these theories, especially if my life was on the line.

The entire club stopped in unison when they had all fully realized that I had just stopped the swing of a blunt weapon with my bare hands. The dog that had had tried to hit me stared at me with a wide-eyed expression, not sure how to react to the fact that the thing he had tried to beat the head off of had just stopped his weapon mid swing. While he and the other members continued to gawk, I pulled the poker out of the dog’s grasp.

“Everyone please relax,” I said, allowing some annoyance in my tone. I took both ends of the poker in my hand and began bending it. In a few seconds, I had gotten it to a point where both ends were intersecting with one another, “I just want to talk,”

And with that, I threw the poker to the hardwood floor, earning a loud clatter that caused the awestruck patrons to flinch. The members then realized that I was being incredibly patient with all of them meaning that I wasn’t some idiot police officer trying to infiltrate their gang, and that Connor’s stories seamed to be a bit more legitimate now that they saw what I could do first hand. I mean, feat like that isn’t that impressive, but they probably weren’t expecting it from someone that had assumed to be weakling. The griffin at the bar gawked at me for a few more seconds before looking at the dog that had assaulted me with the fire-poker.

“Er… Nigel, woy don’t ya take our friend ‘ere upstairs ta see Sabine, yeah?” he said nervously. I turned my attention to the medium sized dog. He was looking at me with eyes that looked as though they were just about to burst from their sockets. His trance was interrupted when a larger dog behind him thumped him on the back, urging him to hurry along as not to tempt my ire.

“R-r-r-r-roight dis way, Sir!” Nigel said, as he scurried passed me. Beckoning Cogsworth to follow me, I began follow the cowardly dog. As I passed the griffin at the bar, I tipped my hat again. 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” I said in a respectful tone. As I began walking up the stairs, I hear the griffin order a shot of whiskey.



The three of us made out way up the stairs, the sounds of the club beginning to return the further up we got. Once we reached the top of the stairs, I was greeted with a sight that confirmed my theories of this gang. The entire hallway was filled with what were clearly children. 

Fillies, colts, griffin hatchlings and I suppose it would be appropriate to call the younger dogs puppies. All of them wore ratty clothing, quite similar to the gang members down below. I also remembered the red bandanas around the members’ necks and saw that the children had the very same bandanas. These weren’t just orphans they were looking after, these were simply younger members. I soon concluded that they were all up here for their own protection, since I didn’t see any of them downstairs. 

The children were running up and down the halls, chatting in small circles, and I even spotted a few throwing dice for each other’s bits. I then realized that the doors in the hallway were bedrooms, each of the ones I was able to look into filled with children doing similar activities to the children in the hall. The bedrooms looked like hotel rooms, further confusing me as to what the Rigid Wingspan club was in its heyday.

We made our way up another flight to the third floor. This floor was less crowded than the first two, this one only having a few of the members standing in doorways. Looking into one of these doorways revealed what appeared to be an armory, what with all the knifes, machetes and clubs along the walls. Returning my attention towards the dog we were following. He was leading us to a door guarded by a large, black dog and a red griffin that appeared to be female.  

Our guide cleared his throat and spoke.

“Dis fella’s ‘ere ta see Sabine,” he said, still nervous about our previous encounter. The two guards looked at me with suspicion before looking back at each other. After a few moments of this, the dog gestured for us to go inside. The griffin opened the door, our guide dog hastily stepping inside.

The room we entered was clearly an office, and a rather nice one too. The room was twelve by thirteen feet, and had a window that reached from the ceiling to the floor. The furniture looked as though it had once looked like something you’d see in Buckingham palace, sofas with specially woven upholstery and wooden armrests with engravings and metal studs. The desk itself was large and made of what I assumed to be a very expensive material. Behind the desk was a figure, looking out the window so that they stood with their back facing us.

“S-Sabine! Some blokes are ‘ear tah see ya!” our guide began, “Dis one said somefing about takin down Lockjaw ‘imself! Says ‘e wonts tah make a deal wif ya!” he held out his paws toward me in a dramatic manner before backing out the door. When the door closed, the figure looking out the window turned to face us.

It was another dog, and, judging by its curves and softer facial features, it was female. The first thing I noticed about her was that her appearance was more wolf-like than her short-snouted counterparts. She had light-gray fur and blue eyes, standing around five feet six inches. She wore a black vest and white undershirt, both seeming to be very clean compared to the other gang members. There was also a belt around her waist that held an exceptionally large knife.

She managed to maintain a composed expression when she looked me down, and folded her arms.

“So… you’re ze one zat brought Lockjaw to ze police, oui?” she said in a neutral tone. I was taken aback slightly, as I had expected her to have the same heavy cockney accent the rest of her gang had, instead of a much smoother French one. Remembering she’d asked me a question, I nodded.

“That’s correct.”

She cocked an eyebrow. 

“You are zat metal creature ze other lieutenants spoke of? Ze one zat hospitalized twenty of Lockjaw’s most loyal dregs?” she said as she walked around to the front of the desk.

“Correct again.”

“So zat means you were responsible for ze gang’s entire split-up, am I correct?” her eyes narrowed as her tone became tenser. 

“Yes…” I answered cautiously.

Sabine continued to stare me down, the tension of the room getting thicker and thicker. It was just as I began thinking that she was going to sick the entire gang on me that she cracked a devilish smile.

“Well, for zat I feel zat you deserve a drink.” She said, laughing at what I assumed was Cogsworth’s expression.

“W-w-what?” he said, barely able to speak.

‘She was fucking with us; clever.’

“To be frank, you are probably ze best sing to happen in zis town in a long time.” She said, casually resting against the desk.

“So you’re not angry I took out your boss?” 

Sabine laughed at my question.

“Not at all, if fact you saved the time of pretty much any one of ze higher up’s in ze Jug street Colts looking to make a grab for power.”

The fact that we seemed to be having a casual conversation meant that she was at least willing to hear me out at this point, which I was thankful for. Before I could respond, Sabine spoke up again.

“Oh pardon moi, I have yet to introduce myself. I am Sabine, leader of the Underdogs.” She said as she bowed with her right paw out to the side and left paw on her chest. I did the same, removing my hat and placing it below my chest.

“Nikolas, inventor and businessman. And this is my associate, Cogsworth.” I said as I gestured to him, figuring that he was too overwhelmed to introduce himself.

“A pleasure, my friend. Now, if I am correct, my friend said zat you were looking to make a deal with me.”

“That’s right, but before we start, I’m going to have to ask you a few things.” I said. Sabine nodded.

“Ask away”

“Well, first,” I began “how exactly did you form your own gang so quickly? In fact how did all these other gangs form up after barely a day after Lockjaw’s arrest?”

Sabine smiled, “I was one of Lockjaw’s four lieutenants. Lockjaw couldn’t possibly manage ze entire gang on his own without mutinies. To prevent zis, he appointed four lieutenants to act as sub-commanders for all sections of ze town. He had also hoped zat they could act as ze gang’s temporary leaders in the event zat he was captured.” Sabine began to laugh, “Turns out only one of his lieutenants was actually loyal to him. Now each of the lieutenants is a leader of their own gang.”

“I see,” I said, amused by the fact that Lockjaw’s gang would have turned on him eventually even if I hadn’t come along, “As for my second question: why are their children on the second floor?”

“I make a point to recruit anyone who is in desperate need of a place to belong.” Sabine explained, “Ze ones in need of ze most help are usually ze ones zat fight ze hardest. Plus, children make excellent spies and thieves. If that is all you need to know, shall we get started on z



at deal?”

She gestured toward the one of the sofas, prompting Cogsworth and I to have a seat while she did the same.

“Now, what do you have to offer me?”

“First let me in on something…” I said. Sabine cocked an eyebrow.

“Another question?” she asked, “I’m listening,”

“What kind of operation was Lockjaw running in Steamport?”