Somewhere in the universe, there's a copy of you doing something completely different.
If you really care about plot, it's about Frosty and Violet (From the sleeper hit Fallout: Equestria - Memories!) experimenting with the wonders of reality-bending magic! Because somewhere in an alternate universe, there's a Frosty doing something needlessly reckless.
Most of these will be crossovers with other things. All of these will be written at 2am or later because I'm a crazy poni. Updates will be intermittent since I'll upload these as they are written. These'll also be editor-less since I think I know what I'm doing.
Commendations by editors and/or people I know:
[1:59:46 AM] Crushric of Orléans: No editing D: You're worse than Hitler. Even hitler had editors~
“The first thing to realize about parallel universes... is that they are not parallel. It is also important to realize that they are not, strictly speaking, universes either, but it is easiest if you don't try to realize it until a little later, after you've realized that everything you've realized up to that moment is not true.”
Guess who had three hooves and couldn't find breakfast? That's right- me. After I had finished my watch and passed it off to Sparkle, I immediately located Rumcake and nestled myself up next to him to sleep. When I woke up several hours later to get something in my stomach, all my snack cakes were gone. Literally all my food-related edibles were gone as well, which made me aggravated enough to angrily interrogate anypony I encountered.
Rumcake didn't know, but he did offer me a lemon-scented one which I immediately crammed in my face. Too bad it didn't taste anything like lemons. Snack of lies forced down, actual food still remained a priority.
Sparkle claimed she didn't know jack-all. Potential culprit.
Tangerine either feigned innocence or actually didn't know either. My caps were on the latter, since she didn't seem like the type to steal a snack cakes belonging to a crazy robo-pegasus.
Which left one culprit. Violet. The mare herself was bundled up in the corner of the room, reading her spellbook by magelight. She didn’t even look up when I stormed right up to her and gave her a glare that could melt steel.
“Your armor is reflecting my light.” She simply stated in the most deadpan tone.
I jabbed Violet’s horn- something that I knew would annoy her- to get her attention. “Did you steal my food?”
“Ow!” She clutched her horn with her hooves and glared at me. “That wasn’t totally necessary, you do realize that?”
My claw hovered at horn height, ready for another jab. “Answer to the question. I’m hungry and the only thing I’ve eaten today is wax-flavored cake.” If she didn’t have my food, then we had a much more serious problem on our hooves.
Violet adjusted her hood a few times, then decided take it off. “Yes, I took your unhealthy treats in order to get your attention. I’ve been putting the finishing touches on a spell that I researched, and I now I require a test subject.”
“Why didn’t you just ask Tangerine?”
“She’s not as expendable as you are, considering the nature of the spell.”
An annoyed frown appeared on my face. “Well, thanks for your consideration. It’s not like being expendable has happened to be before.” If it were anypony else, I would have been incredibly outraged at being called expendable. But this was Violet, and she had a habit of being callous.
“For your safety, you should find somewhere comfortable to lie down. Perhaps on this disgusting mattress I’ve been avoiding over here.” Violet gestured at aforementioned mattress, which looked like a very happy colony of mold was attempting to create civilization. “I only need to cast the spell, so I will be available to keep you alive in case something happens.”
I decided that the floor was comfortable enough, considering what I had available to me. “And in case I die?”
“Then you’ve served the advancement of magic theory quite amicably.” Violet solemnly nodded. “Are you comfortable?”
“Wait, when did I even agree to this?” I demanded. “I don’t want to die!”
Violet impassively glared at me. “Would it make you feel better if I told you the math?”
“No.”
“There’s less than a two percent chance of physical injury.”
Oh. That wasn’t too bad. “...Can I at least have my food back? I’m still hungry.” I asked, feeling somewhat more less tense.
“Later.” Violet was already doing her magic thing, eyes closed in concentration, light and energy swirling around her horn.
As the beam of shiny purplish light began to wrap around by ears and nose, I suddenly noticed a slight detail from what Violet said. “Hold on, what do you mean by physical injury?” Too bad I didn’t get an answer, since the spell took effect and I face-planted into the floor.
“Those who play with the devil’s toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword.”
Date: June 16th, 2015. Time: 3:24 AM, Local time. Location: Classified location in D.R. of the Congo.
Flow begins.
Join the air force, they said. It’ll be safe, they said. Fat lot of good that ended up being. The universe being the absolute asshole that it actually was, aliens descended on the planet three months ago. Coincidentally, I had my first official flight as an American flygirl a few weeks prior to that. Ever since then, we- as in, us humans, had been fighting a losing battle against the superior extraterrestrial threat. They had more advanced technology than us, which kept an actual counterattack nigh impossible.
Scoot along a bit to about last month. The aliens hadn’t let up their relentless attacks, but we hadn’t given them a single inch of ground in return. Every mobile air unit on base had been dispatched to fight off one of these attacks, a relentless bombardment on Chicago. My copilot and I had been scrambled to the city in our HH-60 Pave Hawk, laden with a few overenthusiastic jarheads with their minigun.
We arrived on scene to deploy covering fire for the survivors of a platoon that had been nearly wiped out by “Crazy poisonous fuckers in crazy poisonous suits”. Laughable then, but I knew the horrors that were Thin Men. (Colloquially known as Thin Mints, thanks to an old typo apparently.) In the moments that it took for us to descend close enough to the ground so that the folks in the back could open up with the minigun, streams of green plasma from somewhere cut through the hull and killed our passengers. A second salvo wrecked the tail prop and suddenly we were going down.
I can still remember Roy on the comms…
As we spiraled to the ground and as I attempted to get us back under control, he somehow managed to maintain a calm, almost nonchalant tone through the entire thing. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. Thunder Five is going down. Landing’s going to be hard and there might not be survivors. Our coordinates are as follows,...”
Turned out, I didn’t die. Neither did Private Pansy in the back, either. No, that wasn’t his name. I just don’t remember his actual name- only that he wouldn’t stop whining and pissing himself. Pansy got melted by the little gray fuckers, Sectoids, a bit later when they came to investigate the crash site. I did the smart thing and played dead until they bugged off.
My luck being my luck, some alien asshole must have heard me trying to unstrap myself from my crash harness or something, since a jetpack with a face decided to try taking a look through the busted canopy. I say tried, since I completely flipped out and unloaded my entire sidearm’s magazine into its ugly mug. And whatever anyone says, I got the kill on that Floater.
I must have passed out then, since I found myself in an unfamiliar aircraft hold with my wounds bandaged and just like that, I get conscripted to join X-Com literally ten hours later.
“And there you have it. That’s how I got here.” I groaned, rubbing my eyes. “And somehow, everyone won’t stop pointing out that a five foot five little taiwanese girl shouldn’t be able to one vee a Floater with nothing but her favorite Five-seveN.”
The guy standing by my medical bed, Lieutenant Deck, chuckled. A large friendly man, if anything else could be said about him. “I was just a rookie on that mission, too. It could have gone better, but… you know how it goes.” Acceptable losses, as was the entire mentality of the war. “So, how’d your first mission go?”
“I got shot by a Sectoid!” I jovially replied, showing off my bandaged arm and shoulder. “The doc says it’s just third-degree burns since the armor soaked up the brunt of it.”
“Congrats on the promotion, by the way. Nice job finishing off both of those robo-squids. Came here to deliver the patch myself.” He placed the emblem on my lap, the double circles of a Squaddie. “Pick up your new gear and a sniper rifle from the quartermaster once you’re mobile.”
A promotion. Like it or not, I’d just been made a sniper. I wasn’t really sure what to say other than a shaky “T-thank you, sir!” I saluted as well, flustered as I was.
“Thank the commander, Squaddie Winds.”
The entire floor shook.
“Uh…” I grabbed the tiny railing on my bed for safety. “Was that me, or…”
“Did the entire underground base just shake? Yeah, it just did. Probably just a tremor or something.”
An explosion, followed by a much more forceful explosion, rocked the base. “That’s not good.” I muttered, tucking my new squaddie patch into the breast pocket on my fatigues. Seconds later, the red emergency lights flickered on and klaxons began to blare.
“That’s not good.” Lt. Dack echoed, giving me a concerned look. “Are you mobile? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Over the intercom. the familiar voice of Central Officer Bradford rang out. “This is Central. Security status RED. Repeat, se-” Then the broadcast abruptly cut out.
I sprang out of my bed and let training and drills kick in. All able soldiers were to report to the barracks for retasking, base security personnel would direct non-combatants to safe rooms and clear the halls. Without any further orders, the leader of Strike One would be in charge.
The Lieutenant and I ran into a few other soldiers that had also been caught off-duty. One of them hadn’t finished shaving, which left with a funny-looking half-moustache. Even so, we were all headed for the same place to retrieve our gear and find out exactly what was going on.
When I got to my locker, I had already come to the very late realization that this wasn’t actually a drill. I also arrived to the late realization that getting sent to medbay meant that some of the gear I was using had been reassigned while I was recovering. The only things left were my standard-issue body armor, which I immediately strapped on, its specialized sniper’s gear, and the standard-issue sidearm which I slotted into my holster. I made sure that my radio was switched on and the earbud plugged in. My next stop would be the quartermaster’s office.
The Quartermaster was running a tight ship, even with RED security alert. I was in and out within eight seconds, sprinting out the doors with a repossessed EXALT sniper rifle and a plethora of reaper rounds shoved into my pockets and bandoliers.
I quickly fiddled with the sights on my brand new weapon as I tromped toward my assigned zone, until I heard Central over base intercom again. “Delta section is under attack. Reserve elements of Strike One, get to Delta on the double!”
That wasn’t far from where I was. Literally two hallways, a left turn, through a generator room and I was standing in front my destination. The giant blast doors were firmly locked shut, which made me a bit confused on what to do next. A few technicians arrived shortly thereafter with their tools, one of which gave me a curt nod. Unsure what to do still, I watched them pull out a panel next to the rounded door frame and plug a tablet into the wiring within.
“Squaddie Winds, I’m sending base defense personnel to your position. In a few moments, those doors will open and you’ll only have a few seconds to get through before they close again.” Central informed me over my radio. “The AO will be hot.”
I pressed my right hand against my other ear so I could hear him more clearly over the sounds of gunfire and explosions. “What about reinforcements, sir?” I sort of yelled back.
There was a brief pause as Central was most likely communicating with someone else. “You are the reinforcements. Part of Strike One is already on the scene and I’m trying to re-route our reserve troops to Delta, but you’re the first to arrive at the rally point without encountering hostiles along the way.”
One of the techs yelled, “Openin’ the barn in ten seconds! Get ready, ma’am!”
“Switching you to squad comms. Stand by.” My radio burped static as Central patched me into the battle.
The heavy doors soundlessly cranked open and I bolted through, a base security rookie on my heels. I hesitated for a second while I surveyed the scene. The Delta Section command center was a complete and literal war zone. Consoles had been reduced to melted wrecks, railings and walls had been torn apart with explosives, and corpses of many different aliens liberally covered the floor. The hologlobe to my right weakly flickered because of the Muton corpse lying on top of it.
“We’ve got more reinforcements awaiting orders, Commander. As soon as the power banks spool up again, I’ll send another group through.”
“Good timing, squaddie. I needed a sniper.” Nobody ever actually saw the commander in person, except for Bradford, the head engie, and the head squint. “Advance to the corner on your left and overwatch the main hall to the mechbay. The next wave is coming in.” Dutifully, I pulled out my pistol and advanced to the specified corner.
Under orders, everyone moved into position to cover potential entrances at the same time. “Commander! We’re picking up a steady increase in alien activity near the forward access tunnel. It looks like they’re concentrating a force there. I’d get prepped.”
Heavy thumps from the floor above me didn’t get my attention until a base defense soldier behind me opened fire with his assault rifle at the same time I heard a much louder crash- the sound of something really big and heavy jumping a floor down.
“They’re coming around the side!” I shouted, desperately firing my pistol as the hulking Muton Berzerker stomped toward me. The damn thing shrugged off the .45 rounds like they were nerf darts. It roared in rage, causing the base defense soldier that shot at it to scream in fright and cower in his corner. I managed to stay calm and fumble for my rifle, praying to the gods that I could kill this thing before it did me in.
I didn’t get any fire support from anyone else since it sounded like they were too busy fighting off several Mechtoids and their alien buddies. I brought my new rifle to bear and pulled the trigger at the same time as the Berzerker raised his bladed arm.
“Shot wide!” I incredulously shouted.
The huge red alien brought down his bladed weapon and I stumbled backward from the impact. I tried to cycle the bolt on my rifle, but I couldn’t get my left hand to grip the body for some odd reason. Without a primary, I drew my pistol again and tried to get a new magazine in. Why couldn’t I get a mag? I’d done this hundreds o-
A lot of things suddenly made sense when I caught sight of all the nothing where my left arm should have been. I managed a weak “Oh” as my vision began to blur. That’s also when I realized my feet were no longer touching the floor and the Berzerker’s arm blades were hilt-deep in my chest.
When I hit the floor, I could barely make out someone yelling “We lost one!”
Which was promptly followed up with, “Get me outta here! I don’t wanna die!”
Fucking rookies.
Flow terminates.
I sat bolt upright with a startled gasp and clutched at my chest with my claw, sighing in relief when I found myself un-perforated and alive. My hooves, wings, and my robotic limb were back, which meant I was a proper pegasus again! I flopped onto my back and gently flapped my wings to get feeling back into them.
“What did you see?” Violet asked, quill and notepad at the ready. “I know it might be hard for you, but I need details.”
“Aren’t you going to ask whether it worked?” I snapped, still somewhat irked that I hadn’t been given any proper warning.
Violet let out an exasperated sigh. “I already know the spell works. I just need to know what you saw.”
“Don’t you have a spell for that, too? Mind reading or something?”
“I do, but I really don’t want to know what goes on in your mind. I’d rather not find out that schizophrenia is a mentally transmittable disease.”
So I sat up and told Violet, which didn’t spark the slightest bit of wonder to her for whatever reason. Just in case, I made sure to point out most of the similarities in case they were important at all. Once she’d gotten enough written down, she reread everything and nodded in satisfaction.
Violet snapped her notebook shut. “Good. Time to see whether or not this is repeatable.”
I blinked. “Hold on, wha-”
Violet’s sparkly little purple ball of magic bopped me in the forehead and I crumpled face-first into the dirt. Again.
Date: Unknown. Time: 2:16 PM, Local time. Location: Canterlot Castle Town, corner of 4th and Numbers Street.
Flow begins.
I tapped my hooves impatiently against the cobblestones of the “Safe Storage and Associates” Barricade Street branch bank. It had already been eight minutes, and the disguise amulet around my neck was really starting to itch in a way that jewelry definitely shouldn’t. Even if it let me hear what the others were saying, this stupid blue hair that it gave me was incredibly distracting. At least nopony would suspect that the meek ‘lil filly Frosty was the bulky gray stallion loitering in an alley with a pair of overstuffed saddlebags.
“Holy shit, these guards just won’t fucking move. Get over here so I can punch you, asshole.” That was our team’s stealth expert, using the alias “Rad”. All I knew was that she- or he, at the moment, was some sort of C-rank DJ unicorn of some description. Real names weren’t exchanged so that we retained some plausible deniability in the event things went seriously south.
We’d been hired to knock over the bank for its recent shipment of bits. Anything extra went straight into our pockets, assuming the bank had anything else to take. The four of us were the best in the business- or so we liked to think. We hadn’t been caught yet, and that’s what mattered.
“I’m going to knock out the spotter ward in three, two, one… There.” Team mastermind and leader, alias “Bourbon”. I was ninety percent sure he was some sort of royal, but it was just a hunch. “Did any of them get the call?”
I peered around the corner in case a guard had come around from the street side. “Nopony here but Freeze getting cold.”
“Security colt just told the lobby guard about it. Looks like he’s headed to Rad through the stairwell.” The last member of our team, alias “Nectarine”. Self-proclaimed expert mage, but she wasn’t nearly that good. Somehow, she’d managed to waltz her way into the bank’s break room without any confrontation at all.
“Oh shit, who are you?” Very faintly, I heard a wet splat and the sound of somepony falling down several flights of stairs. “Shit! Uh, uh, uh- Bourbon, get that guy!”
It sounded like I was missing all the fun. Again. “Rad… What did you do?” Bourbon groaned.
“He came out of nowhere! Hold on, answering.” Rad cleared her throat and most likely picked up the guardpony’s little badge. It was similar to our little amulets, only it didn’t provide a disguise. We found out the hard way that those things hitting the ground usually caused other guards to get suspicious unless they were reassured that nothing was wrong. “What? I can’t hear you over the sound of my own boredom.”
We all held our breath for a second, sans Bourbon who was busy knocking out another guard.
“He bought it. We’re clear.” Rad sighed.
Then it was Bourbon’s turn to answer for the guard that he’d knocked out. “Um… uh… I don’t… I don’t… ah…” And then he made a pathetic choking noise.
“Really?” I hissed, glancing back at the street. “That was the best you could come up with?”
“Says the mare that tried to get away with ‘Everything normal here in normal town’.” Bourbon snapped back. After a moment, he sighed in relief. “Whew. At least the security colt didn’t do anything.”
“Girls, shut it. Who knows where the last guard is?” Nectarine urgently reminded us, stopping my retaliatory comment in its tracks.
“Roof clear.” Rad responded.
The alley was still deserted, and I was still bored. “Alley clear.”
“I’ll prep the silence field. Remember, we have twelve seconds. Freeze? Get those tellers, or we’re totally fucked.”
I stamped my hooves. “I know.” I shifted my saddlebags for easy access to its deadly payload.
“Ready? And… go.”
I burst through the door and galloped around the corner to get behind the tellers’ counter. The two mares behind it weren’t allowed to have a moment to figure out what was happening before I knocked both of them to the ground. “Down on the goddamn ground!” I yelled at the few customers that were still in line. “Down!”
“Hey! Watch the civilians! You want the guard to come down harder on us?” We ignored King’s warning and continued carrying out the plan.
Likewise, I could hear the others yelling at hapless customers and employees to get on the ground. The faster we could pacify the customers, the faster we could get to work. I did my job and continued to make sure that the six ponies in here didn’t do anything stupid.
“Downed guard back here. Rad, get on it.” Bourbon ordered from one of the areas across from the lobby where he had come in. “Rest of you, Tie up as many civs as possible.”
I pulled some binding rope off from the easy-reach strap of my saddlebags and tied up the two red stallions in front of me. One of them tried to cast some sort of spell, but a kick to the horn made him stop. The other obediently accepted the tie and shut up.
A pudgy blue pony, probably the bank’s manager, shakily stood up and opened his mouth to say something until Bourbon stomped in. “You see this macadamia cupcake? This means I get to tell you what to do.” He brandished the weaponized pastry in question at the shaking stallion.
I made sure to unzip my saddlebags a little bit farther, revealing the many extra nut-based pastries I had in store. The two unfortunate tellers had taken a caramel-pecan cupcake each. A waste of good ammunition, but we weren’t taking chances that they’d raise the alarm first.
“Nobody has detected you yet. Control the civilians and get that vault open.” King, our mysterious handler ordered. All we knew was that she was definitely a mare, and she really hated incompetence.
“Freeze and Rad- you’re on crowd control. Nectarine, go do your thing. I’ll take care of the last loose end. I want to be out of here in the next ten minutes.” Bourbon snatched a small watch on a chain from the manager’s vest. “Move it.”
“Front-leaning rest! Down on your face, doof.” I barked at the unfortunate few in front of me that had decided to visit their local branch bank today. “Don’t be tricky. Freeze don’t like tricky.”
Like the drama queen she was, Rad jumped up on the counter and began to recite the speech that she had prepared beforehoof. She claimed that it made our hostages more calm by reassuring their fears, but I was ninety percent sure that she just wanted to hear her disguise’s stupid manehattenite voice.
“We want to hurt nopony! We're here for the bank's money, not your money. Your money is insured by the Royal Mint; you're not gonna lose a single bit! Think of your families, think of your friends. Don't risk your life. Don't try and be a hero!”
Fillies and gentlecolts, Rad. Round of applause. What a speech.
“I need a few more cinnamon spice cupcakes back here, Freezie.” Nectarine singsonged. “This one’s a lot more solid than the last one.”
Once I made absolutely sure that Rad had the lobby secure, I picked up my bag of confections and made my way through the break room and into the back room where the vault was located. Nectarine had already placed several of her custom-created cupcakes against the huge brass door frosting-first. As far as I knew, there was a rune printed onto the wrapper that was motion-sensitive and that they somehow managed to explode with no explosive components whatsoever.
I dropped my saddlebags at her hooves. “Supplies, motherfucker.”
“Thanks a bunch.” Nectarine pulled out a few more of her special cupcakes and mushed them into the vault door to complete the circular pattern she was making. “Okay, that’s done. Everypony back up and maybe cover your ears.”
King must have been tapping her amulet on something to get our attention for a few minutes now. “Hold on, what’s going on in there?”
Nectarine and I jumped into the break room and covered our ears.
“Wait, are you blowing the vault? Don’t blow it!” Bourbon yelled so loudly that I was getting an echo from both my amulet and his voice somewhere else in the bank. “Stick to th-”
The subsequent explosion nearly blew out my eardrums, even with my ears covered. Considering that it was from a small pile of magically-charged cupcakes, it was actually quite impressive. When the two of us stumbled back over to inspect the damage, the vault door had been blown off its hinges and thrown a few feet away from the rest of the vault.
“What the fuck, guys? Looks like you’re going hot- somepony heard an explosion and called the Royal Guard.” King groaned. “You’re about to go hot.”
I heard Bourbon sigh. “And it was going so well.”
“How was I supposed to know blowing the vault freaked everypony out?” Nectarine shot back, clearly perplexed with how we’d gotten here. “It didn’t happen the last time!”
“That’s because fireworks were legal inside city limits, you dork.” Rad explained. “What I am supposed to do with these pumpkin tarts against the Guard?”
The smoke had cleared just enough to reveal the busted security gate inside the vault, revealing our fairly-stolen treasure. Mountains and mountains of bits, just sitting there waiting to be taken for the four of us. Okay, maybe just one really big mountain.
“The vault’s open! Bag the gold, everypony.” King reminded us.
“Everypony, you know what to do.” Yes, Bourbon. We know what we’re doing. Thank you for reminding us. “I see first responders arriving.”
As per our standard plan, Rad and I were in charge of getting bits packed into the bags that Nectarine magically produced out of nowhere while the aforementioned mare and Bourbon were in charge of knocking the Royal Guard down a few pegs with our weaponized pastries until we could get the goods moved from the vault and into the sewer entrance behind the bank.
All in all, we’d managed to get five bags- not a bad payout, considering we didn’t have the time to open every single deposit box lining the walls of the vault. “Bits bagged. Let’s get out of here!” I called out to the others.
“Shield! Another fucking shield!”
“What’s up with this response time? Seriously?”
Sounded like the two out front were having a really bad time. At least they were proving to be an effective distraction. I dropped the first of the bags down through the open sewer grate and headed back inside when I heard a chilling, distorted voice behind me.
“I like the way you fry, boy.”
Uh oh.
Bolt after bolt of paralyzing electricity forced me to spasm in place, making me drop the double-walnut chocolate cupcake that I was trying to throw. However, I still managed to jerk and twitch myself to face the navy-armored Guardspony currently casting his volt spell at me.
My spasmodical fumbling eventually managed to let me touch the amulet around my neck. “I tase you, fool.” A tiny square shield materialized in front of me, reflecting the arcing electricity back into its caster.
I managed to enjoy the look on his face for a fraction of a second as the spell rebounded “What th-” He stammered, right before the resulting shock knocked his stupid yellow-striped helmet right off his head. A second later, he joined his headwear on the ground and stayed there.
Thankfully the Guardspony hadn’t brought any friends with him. “Taser down.”
A bag full of bits slammed into my ankles, which was quickly followed up with yet another one. “Keep ‘em moving!” Rad called out, already hefting another bag.
“I’m movin’, I’m movin’.” I picked up the bag in my teeth and chucked out the door and right into the open grate.
“What are we on bags?” Bourbon yelled, over the din of the swordfightery and pastry-izing. “There’s a lot of these guys out here, and I’m almost out of cake!”
I continued to move our stolen goods, giving Rad a dirty look as she dashed past me with the last bag while I was still fumbling with the tiny zipper on the one I was trying to get a hold on. “Last bag’s at the escape zone. Time to go!” I informed him. “I dropped the extra snacks right outside the vault.”
“I’ll drop the last of my cinnamon cakes on the way out to slow ‘em down. Let’s get out of here.”
Nectarine had the right idea. Staying around longer increased the chances of us getting detained by the Guard, and that was the last thing anypony wanted.
I cupcake’d the next two guards who thought that dropping down on us was a good idea. From what it sounded like, the Guard had decided that a frontal assault was no longer practical, so they were trying to get around behind us.
For one reason or another, I kept hearing this annoying ringing noise in my ears. In case it was my amulet, I gave it a tap or two to maybe get it working properly.I kept a few more of my cupcakes on hoof in case more Guards decided to show up and ruin the party. Bourbon dove into the sewer first, followed by Nectarine and Rad after her.
The whine built up to an intolerable pitch, and I stopped to glare at my amulet again. Unfortunately, I shouldn’t have done that because a stun baton bashed me upside the head and knocked me on the ground. I was still trying to comprehend what was happening while my assailant kept hitting me, all the while bellowing into the back of my head, “Is this what you want? Huh? Is this what you wanted?”
“Freeze is down! Somepony help her!” King yelled.
“Where’s the fucking ladder?”
“I don’t know! Maybe we can’t get back up there.”
“Let’s just get out of here.”
“Ow, fuck! Just leave me! Go, go go! Ow!” I yelped, hoping they could still hear me.
They did, since I heard hoofsteps receding into the distance. Several other guards showed up and simply stood around me while I lay face-first in the cobblestones being beaten.
“Woo! Tightest. Crew. Ever!” By the sounds of it, the other three had managed to escape. King would find a way to get me out of imprisonment later.
Flow ends.
“Why am I constantly getting face-planted and injured? Seriously?” I whined, coming out of my trance-spell-thing.
Again, quill and notes at the ready, Violet stared at me. “Tell me everything.”
I crossed my forelegs. “No. You’re just going to do the thing again.” I hmphed and looked away.
“You mean this thing?” Tinkle of magic, and then I was falling again.
Date: June 3rd, 1949. Time: 11:24, Local time. Location: Erlenberg.
Flow begins.
As always, the interior of our backup tank- the trusty T-34-85- was stifling to say the least. The little fans built into the hull weren’t really helping, but at least we could keep all the hatches open until the skirmish started. Until then, I let myself skim over the list of tanks we had as our current allies and enemies.
“Ugh, why are we here? I hate this place.”
“At least this is a tier six matchup for whatever reason.” I replied, which didn’t help Serzhant Rumcake’s grumpy disposition at all.
“Works for me. Winds, make sure you keep the shells loaded and I’ll do my job.” Our newest crew member, a one Efreitor Violet Dusk was taking the gunner’s seat- a position that we hadn’t had in our previous backup vehicle. “I did some research beforehand, and I believe I should be able to perform with competence.”
“Just shoot at the flat parts, Efreitor. It’s not too difficult. Anyway, we’re at the north spawn so we’ll need to circle around the hill down the nine columnish and hope that their TDs decided to head to the castle.”
The only two tanks I was worried about on the other team were the TOG II* and the deadly KV-2. Thick armor on both counts, being heavy tanks, and the latter had a ridiculous gun that could fling all of us into the sun with a glancing hit. At least our team had a plethora of VK 30.01 Hs, Ps, and Ds for no good reason.
“Their M37’s got a thirty seven percent win percentage, so at least there’s that. All we have to do is not get destroyed by the Jackson and the Wolverine.” Rumcake sighed, taking a look at the little egg timer balanced on the edge of his commander’s cupola. “Twenty seconds to start.”
Mladshiy Serzhant Cola poked her head into the turret interior right under my seat. “Good news, I popped off the speed governor.”
“I’m no driver, but don’t we need that to keep the engine from exploding?” Mladshiy Serzhant Tangerine asked, one hand pulling back one side of her headphones to listen to our banter.
Cola shimmied her way to her driver’s seat. “Safety’s overrated. You’ve got first-aid up there if you need it, anyway.”
“We had to remove it so the toolbox would fit.” I reminded her, giving the box a loud punch for emphasis. “Remember?”
The egg timer rattled to life and was immediately silenced by the hatch smashing shut on it. Likewise, the rest of us stopped the silly banter and made sure our stations were ready for combat. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Derpenberg. Let’s go!”
Our tank lurched forward and rumbled to life— I began to load the first of many AP shells, thanking the shell rammer for making my job a lot easier, the radio began to buzz with activity, and the gunner started rotating the turret in anticipation of our first target.
An impact from behind nearly knocked me out of my seat. Rumcake peeked through the little viewports of his cupola before squatting down and yelling, “Radio, tell the Churchill behind us to watch where he’s going. They’re going to dent the hull.”
Tangerine gave him a thumbs up and did some radio magicery to do exactly that.
The pre-battle traffic jam cleared without further incident or damage. We managed to make it three quarters down the enemy’s right flank before Tangerine shouted, “Our A-20 just made contact with their Jackson and a T-34 on the ridge up ahead. They’re using the crest of the hill to their advantage, so be careful.” A second later, she followed up with, “The SU-5 confirms multiple unseen contacts on the road behind it as well. Their gunner estimates four, maybe five.”
“Driver, prepare to angle the tank once we get into their firing range. Loader, prepare to load HE shells. No doubt their heavies are just sitting there and waiting for us to poke around that hill.” Rumcake hazarded a peek out of his hatch before closing it again. “I’ve got a weird feeling, so proceed with caution.”
The tank slowed down and began to turn slightly to the left. “Roger that.”
“Yes, Serzhant.” I re-arranged the shell rack next to me and placed one of our many HE shells at the top for easy reach.
Rumcake kept staring out of the tiny viewports of his cupola in order to find us a target. An explosion somewhere behind us, not from someone behind us firing, but of an ammo rack violently detonating. “Get us into cover, Cola. We’ve been scouted!”
“Which one?” Rumcake turned around to look behind us. “They all look the same to me.”
“The H. We’ve still got two VK Ds behind us and a BDR.”
I stifled a snort. “That’ll teach ‘em for being big and square.”
“Do we know what gun the VK 30.01 H had?”
Tangerine paused to ask, then replied, “Not sure. He might have been stock.”
“Hmph...” Rumcake thought for a moment. “Get us into cover, Sparkle. Let them come to us.”
The few tanks behind us were scooting to take cover on our side of the hill before their artillery could reload and line up another shot. I couldn’t do anything but wait until the fighting started to do my job. Until then, I pulled out my little pocket manual of “How to replace a christie suspension and other cool things” and began to idly skim.
A shot bounced off our hull. Dammit. I crammed my pamphlet down the front of my fatigues and plopped an HE shell on my lap in anticipation of combat.
“Where’d that come from? Where’s our scout with the info?”
“The A-20 drowned trying to escape their TOG boat.” Tangerine yelled back. “The west flank is getting pounded, about eight tanks out there including the KV-2. The other three TDs are out by castle, so all we have here is the Jackson.”
“Where’s the TOG?”
“Gone, sir. No idea how we managed to lose the land whale.”
I cleared my throat and added, “I’d like to point out that the Jackson’ll body bag us before we get enough shots off to kill him.”
“Sir, our SU-5 requests someone go find them a target. It’s only got fourteen shells so blind-fire isn’t an option.” Tangerine did some radio things again. “West flank confirms six kills, three more in the area. They’ve taken heavy casualties, so we might want to push.”
“That leaves five on our flank, assuming their M37 was smart enough to sit farther in the back.” And then Rumcake got that look in his eye. “Everybody strap in, we’re going to scout.”
Without further prompting, Sparkle gunned the engine. “Feel the rhythm, feel the ride, everybody get up, it’s killin’ time!”
Our tank rocketed forward, and followed the road right around the end of the hill. That’s when we all collectively realized that it was a really shitty idea.
Shots began to hit our tank, most of which were penetrating our armor. “Holy shit! Targets: Jackson, TOG, a Stug, and a Panzer-uh- Panzer Souffle IV in the area!” Rumcake began to relay exact coordinates to Tangerine, but I didn’t have time to listen.
Violet cranked the turret to our right and fired the first shell right into the Stug’s exposed cupola. “Critical hit!” She yelled, ignoring the retreating wounded tank destroyer and turning the turret to face the Jackson. “AP shell, AP shell!”
“Right tracks are taking damage! I’m trying to get us out of these firing lines. C’mon, get behind this rock...”
I hastily- and gently- replaced the High Explosive shell back onto the rack, replacing its intended spot in the loading cradle with an AP shell. With practiced ease, I pulled the lever for the shell rammer and slammed the little hatch shut to make the gun ready to fire. “Loaded!” A second and a half longer than it needed to be, but it was probably alright.
We were still moving forward, which only stopped when the rear of the tank took a particularly hard hit that managed to knock me out of my seat. “Holy shit, the engine’s hit!” I caught sight of a very annoyed Sparkle crawling toward the back of the tank. “Toolbox!”
I dropped the object in question down to her while I pulled another shell off the rack and loaded it into the gun. Violet immediately fired, which kept me from trying to figure out what was going on around us lest I accidentally drop a shell and doom us all.
Too bad someone out there decided to try and do exactly that. An explosion rocked the turret of our tank and blew a small chunk out of the metal, giving me a brand new viewport to look out of- right in the middle of the ammo rack. I managed to keep the shells secure, but just barely.
“The ammo storage is hit! We’re lucky it didn’t blow. Where’s our support?” I fumbled with shells, trying to keep the gun constantly loaded while also keeping the shells from rolling all over the tank.
Violet angrily snapped, “What’s taking so long? Load, load, load! I’ve got a shot lined up and nothing loaded.”
I gestured at the haphazard pile of shells around me. “Do you want us to blow up?” Just to keep her quiet, I loaded the next shell and went back to trying to keep all of our ammunition sorted.
“The engine’s fixed, but it’s not working very well.” Sparkle notified us, getting back into the driver’s seat. “Let’s get out of here!”
Violet fired a shot at the Stug from earlier, reducing it to a flaming pile of scrap metal. “Enemy vehicle destroyed!” She cheered.
I caught a glimpse of the giant TOG II* slowly turning its turret to face us through the hole in our turret. We didn’t have the penetration power to dent the monstrosity of a tank at this angle, so HE shells it was. I searched through the haphazard pile of shells for a HE shell, pushing aside damaged shells as I went. Shell found, I placed it into the waiting cradle and slammed it home.
“That whale’s looking angry and it’s almost reloaded!” Rumcake warned us. “HE shell it for guaranteed damage since there’s a good chance we won’t pen him.”
I allowed myself a tiny grin. “Already loaded!”
“Aiming at his gun. Aaaalmost there...” Violet muttered, fiddling with the fine aiming controls. “Sh- brace!”
There was barely enough time for me to grab onto something before an impact reverberated through the hull with an earsplitting crack. I hazarded a peek out of the hole in the ammo rack, but we’d thankfully rolled into cover behind a rock. By the looks of the additional spent shell rolling around, Violet had managed to fire her shell right before impact.
As I hazily reloaded the next shell while trying to keep my balance, I noticed Rumcake crumpled against the turret wall. I checked for a pulse, which he thankfully had, but he seemed to be unconscious from the impact. “The commander’s knocked out!”
Tangerine let out a smoky cough. “The radio’s hit! We can only communicate to nearby allies.”
Just because we weren’t already in dire straits, rapid repeated impacts began to bounce off our hull as well. “What the flippity flappity fuck is going on back there? That better not be the sound of our left tracks exploding.” Sparkle yelled.
I hazarded a peek out the commander’s cupola after scooting Rumcake into a more comfortable position. “Is… is that a Panzer One-c?” I confusedly observed, watching as it futilely unloaded round after round of low-caliber ammunition into our tracks.
“It’s sort of cute in its ow- Wait, it’s keeping us tracked! Get us out of here before that artillery notices!” Tangerine got back onto the radio and gave it a motivational punch. “Wait, what do you mean the TOG drowned? How?”
It only took one shell for Violet to finish off the sad little outranked Panzer behind us. “Target destroyed.”
“Jackson in front! Someone do-”
An impact knocked me onto the ground.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Everything began to blur.
“The loader bought the farm!”
I made the mistake of inhaling first rather than sitting up, which caused a lot of dirt to take up residence in my nose.
Yet again, Violet was eagerly awaiting my report. “Welcome back. Enjoy yourself?”
Once my sinuses were relatively dirt-free, I decided that the best option was to stay quiet so that maybe Violet wouldn’t zap me with the spell again. Instead of a response, I crossed my forelegs and simply glared at her.
“Now you’re being foalish. How predictably mature of you.” Violet loudly exhaled and used both hooves to rub her temples. “You have literally told me next to nothing. Maybe I should just find another volunteer.”
Potential success!
Violet paced back and forth a few times, then sighed. “Don’t go anywhere.” She flung the spell around her head, under her tail, and right into my stupid grin.
“If you have any loved ones, say goodbye to them now.”
Date: December 15th, 1971. Time: 13:52, Local time. Location: mvm_mannhattan_advanced1
“Now find an Upgrade Station.”
Something was different this time. I felt, I breathed, I moved all of my own accord, completely unlike the previous times. First problem being first, I couldn’t actually see because of the helmet drooped over my eyes.
“What in tarnation is that?” That couldn’t be Cabbage Stew. It had better not be him.
“Looks t’me like a small horse, mate.” A different voice, equally as drawly and rough. “Oi Scout, found ya one of ‘em anthro horsies from your bloody porn mags.”
There was the sound of something blunt smacking into something made of meat. “Yo, you want dis much Mad Milk from me, ‘course I’m gonna bust out the frickin’ furry porn. What are ya? Stupid?” This one was younger and sounded like an asshole.
Something was tickling my face and I brought up my right hand— oh boy, hands again— to pull at it. After sparing a moment to bask in the confusion, I finally asked, “Why am I wearing a fake beard?” I pushed the helmet up slightly so I could see past it, immediately being confused again at the sight of my muzzle as well. Huh.
“Hehey, pony girl. Name’s Scout.” The youth sidled up to me and wrapped his right arm around my depressingly wingless back. “What’s your name, hot stuff?”
I was a little too distracted by his right hand on my chest to actually look at him. “...Are you feeling me up?”
“Uh… ‘course not.”
Not exactly teats, but it did feel like this dimension’s equivalent were being handled in an unsatisfactory manner. “Seems like it.”
“Don’t know whatcha’ talkin’ about.” He had the nerve to gently squeeze, and I got a feeling I definitely was being violated.
“Wanna stop?” This time, I glared at the colt— er, boy in question. He was just a smidge shorter than I was, and he didn’t look as old as anyone that I’d seen from my previous trips to similar dimensions. He wore a cap flipped the wrong way around, some sort of long-sleeved shirt device underneath his red shirt, and an entire cooler full of ice and soda strapped to his back. And he had the nerve to look me right in the eye, cocky grin in place, and squeeze again.
Suddenly, both of us were bodily lifted by our collars and forcibly pulled apart. “Leetle baby man leaves pony woman alone.” With a scream and a thud, Scout was thrown across the room and into a reinforced window.
Still being held aloft by my collar, I was turned to face what could have easily passed as a large shaved bear dressed as a… lumberjack? “I am Heavy Weapons Guy.” He smiled, so at least I knew he wasn’t going to eat me.
Yet.
I held out my teal-furred hand in greeting and warmly smiled. “Frosty. Wi-” Catching my mistake this time, I withdrew my hand and took a breath to compose myself before trying again. “Winds. Frosty Winds. I’m, uh, Air Horse.”
The giant shaved bear named Heavy Weapons Guy took my hand and engulfed it with two fingers and his thumb. “Is good to meet you.” Once he finished shaking my hand, which I gratefully retrieved from his massive hand, he put me back down on the ground.
The other five non-ponies in the room suddenly began to argue about their lack of a “demoman” and something about “fast fix”. I took this lapse of attention on me to investigate my predetermined outfit. Torsowear- red trenchcoat, a bit tight around the chest even with the collar open a bit. The shirt under it didn’t really help solve that problem, neither did the grenade-laden bandolier across my chest. From what I could gather, it seemed like lower body wear consisted of military slacks tucked into military boots. And for some impractical reason, there was some sort of antiquated armor strapped to my left arm.
“Howdy, pardner. Name’s Dell, but y’all can call me Engie.” The one that sounded like Cabbage Stew held out his rubber-gloved hand, but I couldn’t stop staring at what looked like a chessboard tied to a red hard hat on his head. “Short for engineer.”
Wordlessly, I took the rubber glove and halfheartedly shook it.
I only stopped staring when Engie waved his hand in front of my face. “Say, you ain’t no bluebell Ah’ve ever seen before. Where you from, ma’am?”
“Would you believe magic?” I lifted my helmet a bit so I could comfortably fold my ears down since there weren’t holes in my helmet for them.
“That ah would.” Unfortunately, his goggled eyes betrayed no hint of whether he was joking or not. “Big damn army robots are comin’. You know how to use that thing?”
Engie was probably referring to the rectangular black device slung over my left shoulder that I hadn’t had time to check properly. “Uh, sure. Why?” I very obviously lied through my teeth.
I didn’t know whether he bought it or not since he consulted his PipBuck, pressed a button, and a toolbox materialized in his hands. “Ain’t gonna argue with someone wearin’ a ‘beams Kabuto. We’ll need all the help we can wrangle up. Git your gear sorted and ah’ll see you on the front line, pardner.” He tromped on out of the room before I could ask him where I could get one of my own.
That meant I had to figure out how to use this rectangular thing— Black Box.
I blinked. What? How’d I know that?
“Holds three rockets, health on hit.” I muttered to myself, still confused about where all this knowledge was coming from. The next object in question looked a lot like a seashell tied to my waist. “Concheror, speed and health on hit on buff.” I shifted the wooden backpack attached to the back of my bandolier and realized that the two objects were considered one item. And then there was the sword attached to the opposite side of my waist, tied to the other side of my belt. The Half-Zatoichi— Full heal on kill, Honorbound.
“Soldier pony needs upgrades,” The shaved bear rumbled.
Which explained the “UPGRADE” kiosks built into either wall “Just getting my bearings, Mister Guy.” I stopped ogling my equipment and decided to not think about it any farther.
“I am Heavy. Just Heavy.” He strode beside me to the upgrade kiosk and slammed a brass minigun as large as I was onto the tiny counter.
I followed suit, dropping my weird rocket launcher onto the counter. A little pamphlet appeared in my hands, listing what I could improve my Black Box with. “Fill in the dots, leave no stray marks,” read the warning on the top of the paper. A second later, a pencil appeared in my hand as well. I scanned the list of upgrades- damage, rocket specialist, clip size, and more— so many to choose from.
“Nine hundred ain’t enough for what I need,” Drawly voice, apparently unsatisfied, grumbled on his way out.
“Who’s that?” I whispered to Heavy, who was feeding his little paper into a machine behind the counter.
The giant man shrugged. “Long shoot baby man. Is Sniper.” A few little plates of metal popped out of a different box on the wall behind the counter and he shoved them under his vest.
These people didn’t have names, as so much job titles. “Hm,” I simply replied, then returned to deliberating on my upgrades. Even if I wanted all the clip size and all the fire rate, I settled on buying two points of damage boost to be on the safe side.
I mirrored Heavy’s action and gave the machine my paper. The pouch mounted on the back of my belt suddenly felt lighter, then a crate stuffed full of what I assumed were rockets appeared with a ‘vworp’ noise beside my rocket launcher. Logic dictated that this new ammo went into my butt-pouch for storage.
Once all twenty of my rockets had been stored, I hefted my Black Box and wandered out of the room. The area right outside of the upgrade room was somewhat similar to a warehouse with most of a wall missing and a vault door built into the floor. Ignoring it due to my lack of caring at the moment, I tried to make my way to the front lines at a brisk trot.
“What even is the purpose of this bridge, anyway?” I wondered to myself as I left the warehouse area and crossed the bridge in question. “There isn’t even water down there.”
Ignoring yet another question that couldn’t be answered, I walked up a ramp and failed to make sense of all the haphazardly placed shipping containers everywhere, not to mention the giant death grinder spinning away. At least my path seemed to end at an even larger warehouse where everyone was located.
Engie waved at me as he stood next to a deadly-looking sentry gun. This thing had two guns and a rocket launcher! “Howdy. Aw darn, ah forgot the teleporter, didn’t I?” It even beeped menacingly as it rotated!
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but teleporting seemed like a cool thing. “Maybe?”
“Lemme go fix that right quick.”
Whatever amount of preparation wouldn’t have saved me from what happened next. Engie took out a weathered-looking pistol, put it to his head, and shot himself on the spot without another word. A yellow-striped gray box materialized on his corpse and a little person-shaped light appeared over it, as some kind of consolation.
I couldn’t process what I’d just witnessed. Why would he even do that? He’d just—
“Alright, teleporter’s up on that there container.”
When I turned around, there he was in all his hatted glory like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Engie sauntered over to his sentry and gave it a few hits with his wrench, completely ignoring his own dead body at his feet. He even turned and waved at me.
The scene was surreal enough to make me have a mini panic attack. “Be cool, Frosty. Be cool. You’re in another universe where maybe death is irrelevant. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out,” I hissed to myself, pulling my helmet back down over my eyes so I didn’t have get perturbed looking at him. Instead, I stumbled to the nearby railing and hopped down to the lower floor.
“What coward is not ready to fight?”
“Let’s go, mate!”
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
If memory served me right, I had caught a glimpse of Heavy and Scout standing next to a storage tank slightly to my left, so I began to amble off in that direction. That is, until I ran into someone.
A warm, tingly sensation began to warm my heart and I began to inexplicably feel a lot better than I should have. “Hello zere, fräulein.” I lifted my helmet and met face-to-face with someone I didn’t recognize. “I will be ze attending physician today.” The strange man bowed, and the warm feeling dissipated for a second.
The first thing I realized was that this guy looked suspiciously like Doc. Lab coat, check. Large bladed instrument? Check. Funny mane? Check. Evil-looking grin? Check. “You… you’re a doctor?” I hesitantly asked.
“Was ist los?" He asked in another language, cocking his head. When I blankly stared at him, he elaborated with, “Vell, yes. Ze healing does leaves little time for ze hurting, after all. I am ze Medic, and you are… not ze Soldier.”
I sighed and simply stated, “Just… magic.”
“Ah, zat would do it.” Medic clipped the strange little cannon he was holding to his equally strange backpack and immediately tugged on my barely-protruding ears. “Tell me, do zese actually receive sound?”
“Ow, yes!”
“Fascinating.” Now that his curiosity had been temporarily taken care of, he adjusted his scarf and unholstered his cannon again. “So zis does work on you, ja?” I wasn’t really expecting an almost liquid beam of light to extrude from the gun and attach to my torso, which brought back the warm feeling again. “Wunderbar.”
“Pony up, boys!” Engineer peered over the railing. “Uh, no offense meant, ma’am.”
Even with all this dimension-jumping, my unquestioning demeanor could only be stretched so far before I needed something sort of information. “What are we doing, exactly?”
“Robots, mein dear fräulein.” I knew a crazy, creepy look when I saw one. “Zey take our jobs, we kill ze robots for zem back. For money, of course.”
“I hope you have your affairs in order. Incoming robot battalion in three-”
A minigun spun to life and its user roared with laughter.
“Two-”
I followed Medic to the end of the building and waited with the others on the front line. Out there, through the giant warehouse door, a gargantuan vehicle began to regurgitate bipedal machines that marched toward us. He turned his gun onto Heavy and waited.
“One."
The thundering of footsteps became louder and louder as a tall, lanky robot leapt off of the loading dock and into the warehouse. Impossibly fast, it began to sprint toward us, brandishing a massive tree-sized bat.
“Giant baby man!” Heavy shouted, unloading rounds into the huge robot. Likewise, the others had also begun to fire on the huge robot as well.
I brought my rocket launcher to bear and received a baseball to the face for doing so.
As I stumbled in confusion, the baseball-flinging robot managed to run around the tank we were standing behind and up the ramp toward Engineer and his sentry. Unfortunately for the robot, its immobile counterpart proved to be too much. “Bomb’s clear!” Engineer cried, after the smoke and wreckage cleared.
My face hurt a little, but I didn’t have time to whine about it just yet. More robots— these looking suspiciously like Heavy— charged forward at a leisurely pace, constantly firing their shotguns. I managed to land one rocket in the midst of them, to little effect. Right as I fired the follow-up rocket, all six of their heads spontaneously exploded into scrap metal and wads of green smouldering paper. I was a little more annoyed by not getting the kills, but at least my face stopped hurting.
Another one of the bat-wielding giant robots— which I realized looked a lot like Scout, dropped into the field and made a mad dash for the bomb that its predecessor had dropped. Its first and second baseballs hit Heavy and Medic, which left me in the way. I managed to land two hits, the third hitting the wall behind it, and cursed when I had to reload. Above, the sentry plinked away at the giant robot, but it managed to get under the overhang and sprint up the ramp.
Something exploded, but the thundering of robot feet didn’t stop. “Sentry down! Big robot’s got the bomb, boys!” The giant Scout robot was running down the path along the side of the warehouse and past the grinder of safety ignorance.
Scout dashed past me and yelled, “Gimme a hand here, pony girl!” He leapt twice, somehow not touching the floor the second time, and climbed his way out of the warehouse’s entire missing side window.
The fastest way out was up, and trajectory appeared in my mind. If only I still had the power of flight! A gut feeling made me believe otherwise, so I let instinct take over as I shoved one last rocket up the barrel of my Black Box. I leapt, twisting my body in midair and pointing my launcher at the ground behind me. Then I pulled the trigger, making sure to tuck my legs up under me as the rocket whooshed away and exploded against the ground.
Then I flew, smoke and debris trailing from my boots. I landed and groaned in pain- doing that really injured my legs. The giant Scout continued to thunder right at me with his bomb and fired another baseball, not caring that I was now in his way. Undaunted, I retaliated with another rocket and grinned in satisfaction when it exploded.
The large piles of paper that exploded out of the robot were quickly vacuumed into Scout’s pants. “Hehey, thanks.” He chuckled and dashed back into the warehouse to combat the next rush of shotgun Heavy robots and what looked like smaller Scout robots. I jumped back in as well and ignored the first wad of buckshot that dug into my upper leg.
A second and third shot quickly followed the first, and I was already finding it harder to breathe and run without stabbing pain. I fired a few more rockets into the growing crowd of robots, giving me a bit of relief thanks to its magical— or whatever— properties.
Two Scout-ish robots closed in on me, brandishing their metal bats. I had no rockets loaded and loading to fire another— which would probably kill them— would also seriously injure me as well. That left one last alternative.
I’d seen it in a cartoon once. I dropped my rocket launcher and in one smooth motion, I drew the Half-Zatoichi and coup de grâce’d the crap out of the two robots trying to club me to death. As my wounds vanished, I felt the need for a witty one-liner. "Never bring a bat to a battlefield, war is not a game." I quickly flicked the oil off the end of my blade, picked up the mysteriously smouldering currency, and stowed the sword for the Black Box again.
“Yo, Sniper! Get those meds ‘fore they pop!”
Why did I hear fire? I didn’t like the sound of a flame-spewing robot. Fire and I didn’t get along too well from past experience.
“Big robot!” Heavy was still sitting next to the funny-looking little box that he’d started at, still firing and still being angry at everything. “Yaaaaaaah!”
“Sniper!” Engie shouted over the sounds of his sentry firing at the giant robot.
The four smaller robots behind it abruptly had their heads simultaneously turned into nothing while the combination of me, Heavy, Engie’s sentry, and Scout whaled on the giant, flamethrower-wielding robot. Peculiarly, the Scout decided to hit the robot with what I could only describe as an aluminum fan, then immediately smash a bottle of… “white liquid” over its head before hopping away to poke at it with a scattergun.
Of course, I tempted fate by being anywhere near something that shot fire, and I found myself burning to death when the robot focused its fire on me. “I. Am. On. Fire!” I screamed, turning tail and proceeding to, uh, put out my tail. It sounded like the others had it under control, anyway. “Medic!”
He heard my call and turned around, pulling his healgun’s focus off of the toasting bear. I stopped running away and turned on my heel, just as a little blue laser appeared between us. It hesitated for a second, then focused on me. Next thing I knew, I heard a crack, a boom, a curse, then I collapsed on the ground and bled out from the gaping hole in my shoulder.
I died.
Then I waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The spell didn’t wear off.
And now I was bored.
Dying here was a lot more boring than I’d thought.
But with a strange pulling sensation, I wasn’t. I was back in the midst of the fray, launcher in hand and helmet back on my head. “Hello again!” Was the only thing I could come up with at the time.
Medic was focusing his beam on one of those strange boxes that Engie had dropped when he’d died- and that I had, I noted when I tripped on it. A second later, Heavy appeared in a burst of light. “WHO KILLED HEAVY?”
"The robots are poundin' the bloody gate! Help me!”
Klaxons began to blare, and I had a feeling that something was going horribly wrong.
“Security alert!”
Medic latched his healgun’s beam onto me. “Rocket jump to ze dispenser, fräulein! We must regroup!”
I nodded and got a running start, but this time I simply jumped, tucked my legs in, and fired- giving me height instead of distance. Unlike last time, my legs didn’t hurt nearly as much since I was being healed the whole way. I landed beside the crate that was hiding what I assumed was the dispenser from view. Medic hit the ground a second later, yelped, lost his footing, and stumbled into the wall of the shipping crate across from us with a resounding clang.
Sniper jogged past us, chuckling, “That’s a Quick Fix, doc. Thought you would’ve learned to surf by now.” He retreated a bit farther back and bumped into Scout.
“This is your frickin’ fault, buddy.”
“Sod off, wanker. Sniperbot made me flinch.”
Heavy charged up to us at lightning speed, boxing gloves on his hands. “Incoming! Giant Pyro robots are moving! Cowards must get in position.”
There were now three of the giant flamethrower robots, two of which still had a few one-wheeled robot Medics attached to them. Engineer was set up on top of a dirt pile near the death grinder, feverishly swinging his wrench at a much smaller, single-gunned, version of his sentry. Simultaneously, they turned on the man and torched him to the ground.
“Engineer down!” I yelled, and I fired a rocket in retaliation at the robots that had finally demolished the sentry.
Scout rushed in and threw more “milk” at them, which slowed them down to a crawl. As fast as he was, they still managed to turn and ignite him. “Fiyah! I’m on fire! Gimme a hand here, fatty!”
We couldn’t really help any more than we already were. My rockets weren’t exactly putting a dent in them, and Heavy’s bullets weren’t helping either, since he was actually a lot more busy shooting down the robot Scouts running up the ramp behind the giants. I wasn’t really sure about why until a few of them managed to get away.
“Aaaugh!” Sniper’s bludgeoned corpse fell past me and I nearly wasted a rocket shooting at it.
One of the giant Pyro robots exploded, dropping its payload of cash. Unfortunately, the other two instantly immolated Heavy as he tried to destroy one of them. One more of my rockets reduced the other damaged robot to scrap, leaving one giant flame-spewing robot.
We were four teammates down and it was just me and Medic. “Ugh, this can’t get any worse.” I groaned. Medic stood behind me, healgun focused on me as I kept firing rockets.
“Vell, it could be-”
For some reason, Medic didn’t finish his sentence. “Could be what?” I yelled between reloads. Huh, the tingly healing feeling had stopped, too. “Oh.” I turned around to the sight of the man on the ground, flaming arrow lodged in his skull. “Well, shit.”
"It's all up to you now."
A wave of robot Snipers and smaller versions of the giant robot trailed behind the remaining giant robot and its entourage of robot Medics, which explained the arrows. Really, who even fights with a bow and arrow if there are guns at your disposal?
One versus an army. Fair odds. "I am not trapped in a facility full of robots. You are all trapped in here with me!" I taunted, emphasizing my point with a rocket that reduced several bow-wielding robots to piles of scrap and money.
There was no way I was going to survive without a little help, but I had one of those feelings. I unclipped the seashell from my belt and violently blew it, which caused a banner to spring out of the side of my pack. “Last one alive, lock the door!”
I sprinted into the robots, fueled by rage and desperation. Two more of my rockets decimated the last of the giant robots, causing the robot Medics to scatter. A few arrows managed to find their mark, but the pain would vanish as I destroyed more robots for health. But then they started to hurt quite a lot when I ran out of rockets and had to fall back to reload lest I get slowly get punctured to death.
As I retreated, I wasn’t ready to deal with yet another giant Scout Robot rushing past me with their bomb. Something wet and meaty hit me in the back of my head and nearly dislodged my helmet, and I had an inexplicable moment of confused shame. Wait, it had the bomb!
The alarm sirens began to blare again. "Alert! Do not let the bomb get to the hatch!"
Something abruptly flashed across my vision then vanished. “Engineer used an UPGRADE BUILDINGS canteen!” Okay, whatever that was…
I needed to take a shortcut over the containers, so I pointed my rocket launcher at my feet, jumped, and fired again to take flight. Too bad I didn’t get enough horizontal distance. The giant robot was about to start crossing the bridge as I landed on top of the containers, and I wasn’t close enough! I fired another rocket a bit ahead of it and used the edge of the container I was standing on as a surface to launch myself again, which felt like I’d just shredded my lower legs.
The others were just running out of the left and right doors of the upgrade room just as the giant Scout made it to the giant hatch in the ground and stopped. With a bone-crunching crack, I heavily landed on the bridge and charged forward, only to find I had no rockets loaded.
Heavy’s minigun was still spinning up.
Engie’s sentry was trying its best, the man himself desperately shotgunning the giant robot.
Right next to the door, Sniper was still trying to get a bead on the giant robot’s head.
Medic had a strange little gun that fired syringes in his hands, ready to be fired.
And unsurprisingly, Scout was nowhere to be seen.
“The robots are planting their bomb!”
The giant robot’s torso spun around, placing the bomb in front of it, then swiveled its arms to cover it. I managed to launch one last rocket into the giant Scout, but it just wasn’t enough to kill it. It simply hopped into the air and crushed the hatch with its weight hitting the center of it, sending it into the depths. The bomb detonated, then everything went white.
“You failed! Perhaps I should just hire them.”
Date: December 15th, 1971. Time: Unknown. Location: Unknown.
“You failed! Perhaps I should just hire them.” Somewhere from inside the cloud of smoke, an old wrinkled hand tossed the microphone it held away in disgust. “Incompetent fools.”
The rest of the figure slowly emerged, slowly moving her chair closer to the banks of monitors and computer equipment before her. In all the years she had worked in the shadows of Mann Co., The Administrator hadn’t faced a more dire threat than Gray Mann and his hordes of robots. The mercenaries that Redmond and Blutarch Mann had hired before their unfortunate demise— the same ones now fighting the robots— had been a mixed bag.
The Administrator picked up a phone and dialed a very long number. She put out her cigarette in a nearby overflowing ashtray and patiently waited for the other end to pick up. After several rings, her contact finally picked up.
“It’s Helen. I’m about to send you some very interesting footage of a mercenary I haven’t seen before. No, it’s not a newfangled hat. No, it’s not a full moon.” She groaned and rubbed her temples. “Yes, I’m sure. I want you to find out where this mercenary came from. If she returns, we may have a problem. Yes, she. Thank you. Get to work.”
The Administrator hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. Another variable had come and go, making this robot war marginally more interesting. And speaking of which…
A red light began to blink among a sea of unlit lights. She unplugged the microphone from its original place and plugged it in under the blinking light. After sparing a second to pull up the remote camera feeds to the main monitor, she lit another cigarette.
Microphone in hand and a cigarette in the other, she was prepared for a display of mechanized carnage. “Mann Up mode activated. What were you thinking? Five. Four. Three. Two. One…”
Date: Undetermined. Time: 4:22 PM, Local time. Location: Unknown.
When I opened my eyes again, everything had changed. If it wasn't for the swathes of dying grass and turf stretching across the hilly terrain, I could have mistaken it for the wasteland. With nopony- or nobody- in sight, I used the time to take inventory. Of course, that also meant I needed to check what my body was. Hoovsies, check. Wings? Check. Tail? Check. Excellent, I was a pony again. Oddly enough, I was actually wearing clothing- badly fitting pants, some sort of funny shirt-like thing, and a somewhat worn and plain hoofball cap. A small duffel bag was tightly tied on my back between my wings, whose contents felt heavy and uncomfortably shaped. I untied it to check, and was somewhat disappointed by the results.
"Why am I even carrying a can of beans without a can opener? Oh, I guess that's what this knife is for." I set aside those two items and peered into the empty bag. "Wow, this is totally useless."
As I repacked my disappointing equipment, I didn't have time to react to the crack of a rifle in the distance. A fraction of a second later, I was knocked onto my side.
"Seriously?! Who did that?" I coughed and wheezed, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Luck or not, the bullet had punched through something important and a lung. The dirt under me was turning an alarming shade of red, and breathing was making me both drown in my own blood and making me bleed out faster. A blurry shape appeared in my peripheral vision, and I reached out to it for help.
It didn't make any difference. The pony simply sauntered over to me and unzipped my duffel bag and disinterestedly dug through it. "I do love me some beans. Stupid bitch. Ha!" Like the dirty scumbag he was, he had the nerve to victory crouch over my head and steal my hat in the process.
Thank goddesses I bled out before anything else happened.
Date: Records lost. Time: Unknown. Location: Sector 21-24.
It had taken much longer than I’d expected, but the taxiship had been the safest option. I rubbed my tired eyes with the back of my hooves and tried to focus my bleary gaze on the small glowing screen built into the wall. Too bad I was still too tired to be literate. With a bit of stumble and fumble, I managed to pull my limbs out of the spacecot and drop my hooves into their respective boots.
My nose nearly mashed into the tiny screen and I cursed the bordering-on-claustrophobic nature of the taxiship’s passenger interior. There was barely enough room to face the opposite wall while sitting, never mind being able to stretch my wings while doing so. With a bit of creative positioning, I managed to be able to stretch one wing at a time while reading the little touch screen.
Besides the obligatory safety warnings and the obnoxiously high price of the cab fare, there was a new little button on the screen that urgently flashed red and green at me. Of course, I immediately pressed it. “Now approaching Neutron Star Station.” Oh good, yet another grating computerized voice. “As a fledgeling station still under construction, all new arrivals will immediately become citizens, regardless of background. As a citizen, you will be assigned a job to perform upon arrival, which may or may not change without notice. Failure to do so will result in ejection through an emergency airlock. For the convenience of Neutron Star Station and yourself, please fill out this quick survey as accurately as possible.”
As soon as its message had been delivered, a form replaced everything on the screen. Proficiency in science? Not me. I marked it down with a single star, that being the least proficient score. Construction? Sure, I put it down for two. Firearms? I put it down for two, since I still hadn’t gotten the hang of using weapons not designed with hoofed species in mind.
By the time I had finished the cursory survey, the taxiship had pulled to a stop. “Eish schtup. Gattat,” burbled the driver.
A little slip of paper ejected from under the screen, detailing the impressive number of credits that had been automatically withdrawn from my credit reserves. Once I managed to get my suit sealed and secured, I kicked open the door and leapt out into the void. It took an extra minute or so to get my bearings as my latent pegasus magic got confused as to where the non-existent ground was.
Luckily enough, I’d been dropped off right next to one of the Station’s airlocks. It was hard to tell whether this was the only airlock, seeing as the station was an unfinished haphazard sprawl of construction and steel. I maneuvered to the airlock door and gently bopped the activation switch.
The radio in my helmet crackled to life. “Station Commander here. Welcome to Neutron Shithole, population twelve. Pick up a matter gun from the suit locker and don’t forget the safety gear. The security team will meet you at Airlock Gamma.”
I was about to ask where that was until I took the time to read the nearly invisible drab gray stenciling on the walls. “Oh. I’m already there,” I muttered to myself. Once I was safely inside, I pressed the large green “AIR” button to recompress the airlock and waited. Air rushed into the chamber, throwing bits of rock and dust all around me, and the little status bars built into the airlock doors slowly changed from red to green.
What I found more interesting were these suit lockers. One of the already had her name on it, and its contents were in the process of being constructed. There were two other lockers, both blank and empty, but names appeared on their plaques and suits appeared in them just as the airlock finished compressing. The last place I’d been at didn’t have all this cool stuff.
Two larger, taller bipedal aliens opened the interior airlock door and opened their respective suit lockers to gear up. Both were clad in the galactic standard gray-and-edgy-black security uniform, complete with blast collar and extra-thick padding for vacuum combat. While one was a strange species I hadn’t heard of, the other one looked suspiciously like a giant walking chicken.
I picked up the matter gun and clipped it to the interface module on my left hoof. The rest of the gear- reinforced safety-orange panels, utility harness with a few multi-tools, and a matter storage backpack all went into corresponding slots on my suit in a similar manner.
“Heer de plan. Brawk an’ me sweep. Keep good to tear down, yas?” the non-chicken-alien slowly grunted at me.
Hesitantly, I answered, “Yes?” The translator in my helmet didn’t filter out the alien’s peculiar accent, so it had taken a second to figure out what he’d just asked.
“Station Commander. I’ll be remotely overseeing the op. A derelict just drifted into the zone and we need to assess it for threats before deciding to draw in to expand or if we’re going to scrap it. You’re going to be the assault builder. Dematerialize a portion of wall and let my security guys take care of the rest, copy?”
“Taken care of.” I immediately responded, making one last suit check to be safe.
The airlock depressurized again and one of the two aliens opened the doors. Since both of them basically looked the same with their suits on, I had no idea which was which. Regardless, I followed them out— once again getting disoriented by the lack of ground— and used my maneuvering jets to catch up to the two security officers.
The derelict wasn’t that far away since we managed to get there without using up more than a minute of my air supply. Somehow, it had managed to park itself right up next to a particularly large asteroid without actually crashing into it. That still meant that we couldn’t access a good quarter of the station from the outside, but since I had a matter gun it didn’t really matter.
Heh, puns.
We floated to a nondescript section of wall. “Entry,” one of them clucked. “Make the hole.”
I shrugged and toggled the thrusters on my suit to bring me close enough to drop a gravity tether on different wall panel. “Gettin’ it done,” I grunted, changing the settings on my matter gun. Material? Wall. Setting? Vaporize. I paused. Or did they want me to tear it down? Just to err on the side of caution, I set it back to Tear Down. Control Type? Wide Beam.
Matter guns worked in weird ways. I swept the gun back and forth over the wall panel to tell its software what I was trying to take apart. Once the entire wall panel had been digitally painted by my HUD, I carefully poked the “Destroy” button on the little screen on the back of the matter gun. Just like that, the entire section of wall vanished with a muffled slurping noise.
A body flew past us as the room explosively decompressed. “Go, go go!” the not-chicken alien shouted, charging into the derelict. The giant chicken quickly followed, guns blazing.
“Station Commander. Get to the airlock and dismantle it on the double! Life signatures are moving to that area, and I’d rather they didn’t make it out of that derelict.”
And here I was thinking that I was done. “Will do,” I sighed, toggling my thrusters to bring me around to the airlock.
I switched the matter gun’s material setting from “Wall” to “Airlock Door” and began to go through the steps to dismantle the door. Unfortunately, before I was halfway through ‘painting’ the airlock, it opened to reveal a suited up raider.
I briefly wondered whether I could use the matter gun as an actual gun when I felt several sharp stabs in my left shoulder. My HUD warned me of a suit breach, which was immediately followed by a new message that read “Life signs dropping. Deploying emergency beacon.”
Chapter 18 (Part ThisIsn’tCanonButtIt’sFunny): What the buck? “If J. R. R. Tolkien knew there was an MMO based off his books he’d be spinning in his grave so fast he’d fucking drill to China.”
Frosty read the big green letters clearly written on her brand-new 29” 1080i LCD Ponysonic monitor. Could not connect to game servers? This was a bucking single player game! Why did she need to be online in order to play, anyway? More importantly, had her game saved? The unicorn’s face paled and her heart skipped a beat. When was the last time she created a manual save, anyhow?
As the thoughts of countless hours lost rampaged through her mind, Frosty shakily pushed her equally-new Crazer Serpent across her Princess Luna mousepad with a teal hoof. In an act of extreme trepidation, she clicked the very large ‘Continue’ button located at the bottom of the horrifying error message.
Just to make the moment even more devastating, the game immediately exited to the main menu, where it no longer showed of the grim equestrian wasteland background that Fallout: Equestria (Currently subtitled with “Memories” in bright blue text) shipped with. All of the game’s sub-menus were grayed out, including the crucial ‘Resume Game’ button. The current background showed an excessively cartoony caricature of a generic earth pony sadly frowning at the ground.
“What the buck do you mean, Error 37?” The white-maned teal unicorn yelled at the screen in obvious outrage. “I’ve only been playing for like, 9 bucking hours!” Frosty pushed her hind hooves against the wall behind her desk and scooted her chair backward. “HEY AUTUMN! YOU LOSE CONNECTION TOO?” She loudly shouted, hoping her voice would carry down the hall, to the left, and into her brother’s room.
“Yeah! I got a really funny error message, you?” Came the shouted reply.
“37?”
“The buck does that mean?”
What did that mean, exactly? The base of Frosty’s chair glowed with bright blue magic as she rolled herself back to her desk. A quick search of the internet revealed nothing that she didn’t already know. “All the forums say that the servers are too busy to handle our request, and we should try again later.”
Obnoxiously loud tapping of keys ensued from both gaming ponies. “I hate launch day. Doesn’t anypony think that ‘Oh, it’s not like tens of thousands of ponies are going to log in at the same time, overloading our servers that were designed for a hundredth of that amount’ or anything?” Autumn eventually shouted back.
A louder, more mature voice broke into the conversation. “Kids, did the game break for you too?”
“Yeah dad!” Frosty and Autumn replied.
There was a short silence. “Funny. Let me call your uncle and find out what’s wrong. Celestia willing, he’s still at the office.”
“Good thing I saved like, right before it crashed. I finally made it through the first act of the ‘Souls’ story pack.” Autumn groaned.
The only thing Frosty could do now was wait and hope the servers came back up. Her cursor hovered over the ‘Retry’ button and repeatedly selected the small dark green box. A tiny little beep accompanied by a notification on the bottom right of her screen. She paused in her rage clicking in order to change to her Hype chat program.
~MothraMoth~: So I just finished installing FoE ~MothraMoth~: Shit doesn’t work IzzitCountastrikez?: LOLOLOL Frosthorne The Feared: mine isn't working anymroe Allnatural_Tofu: welp I guess I’m doing my notes then Allnatural_Tofu: I was relly hoping to play tonight Allnatural_Tofu: *realloy Allnatural_Tofu: **really Allnatural_Tofu: stupid keys Frosthorne The Feared: magic biatch Allnatural_Tofu: I hate you Frosthorne The Feared: :3 ~MothraMoth~: So does this mean your advance press copy finally broke? ~MothraMoth~: GG Frosty broke the game for everypony Frosthorne The Feared: NO IzzitCountastrikez?: lolyup IzzitCountastrikez?: you lose all internets Frosthorne The Feared: stupid error 37 my butt ~MothraMoth~: huh? K4: Context? Frosthorne The Feared: o shit you’re here Frosthorne The Feared: “can’t connect to server” Frosthorne The Feared: the buck is this Frosthorne The Feared: buck you equestria arts ~MothraMoth~: Didn’t you dl a bunch of dlc early or something? Allnatural_Tofu: WUT Allnatural_Tofu: WANT Frosthorne The Feared: don’t think this is relevant Allnatural_Tofu: GIMME Frosthorne The Feared: no Allnatural_Tofu: GIMME Frosthorne The Feared: NO GO AWAY Allnatural_Tofu: D: Allnatural_Tofu: plz? Frosthorne The Feared: stahp ~MothraMoth~: Which one were you playing ~MothraMoth~: before you broke the entire game, ~MothraMoth~: thereby ruining fun for everypony? Frosthorne The Feared: memories i think Frosthorne The Feared: lemme check Frosthorne The Feared: yeah Allnatural_Tofu: I really wanted to play Outlaw first ~MothraMoth~: I was going to start the original ~MothraMoth~: Then I got ganked by the plot of Wings ~MothraMoth~: sooo... IzzitCountastrikez?: if frosty broke the game wut u guys doin now K4: Buck your Equestrian fool. Frosthorne The Feared: I DIDNT BREAK IT GUYS IzzitCountastrikez?: lol ur a butt Frosthorne The Feared: DONT DO THIS TO ME Frosthorne The Feared: THIS IS HOW CONSPIRACIES START ~MothraMoth~: Oh hey I just got the error ~MothraMoth~: Looks like I’m not patching either ~MothraMoth~: Thanks Frosty Frosthorne The Feared hits everypony with keyboard IzzitCountastrikez?: so wut now IzzitCountastrikez?: im bored K4 ducks ~MothraMoth~: I guess I’m playing Team Foaltress 2 then IzzitCountastrikez?: booting IzzitCountastrikez?: imma pee first Allnatural_Tofu: needed to know that Frosthorne The Feared: eh sure i’ll play Frosthorne The Feared: lemme go tell my bro Allnatural_Tofu: that bitch owes me keys Allnatural_Tofu: welp im’ definitely not taking notes anymore ~MothraMoth~: Dammit I need to patch this too wtf K4: If my files ever finish validating, I’ll join too I guess.
WARNING: THIS IS NOT CANON AND CONTAINS VERY MINOR NSFW.
Deleted Scene: Expectations?
I laid on my sleeping bag, still unable to sleep. Somewhere out there, a radroach or insect or something had the irresistible urge to make more noise than the entire wasteland combined with its endless chirping. It also didn’t help that the ruined house we were camped up in wasn’t as ruined as we first thought. There was enough insulation left to keep in the heat, and I’d been rudely woken up by my own sweat.
Not very far away in the adjoining room, Sparkle loudly snored, scratched her ear, and continued to sleep. “Good to see some of us can sleep through this sweltering heat.” I quietly groaned and rolled over onto my face as to air out my wings.
“It’s because you’re a pegasus and have a lower heat tolerance.” Tangerine yawned, coming down the stairs behind me. “G’nite Frosty.”
The stairs shook and crunched as Rumcake stomped down after her. “Ugh, I’m exhausted. Go get Sparkle up for her shift, would you?”
“Yessir.” Tangerine dragged her hooves all the way into the next room and began the arduous task of waking up Sparkle.
Rumcake scooted around the moldy couch and settled down by my side. I lazily flapped my right wing at him in a sleepy greeting as I continued to try to find a comfortable spot in my pillow. This thing was proving to be a worse and worse investment every minute.
Beside me, it sounded like Rumcake had taken off his helmet and placed it on the ground next to him. I hugely yawned and carefully rolled onto my side, splaying my wings out behind me. A moment later, he endearingly looked into my eyes and ruined the warm feeling in my heart by yawning into my face.
“Thanks, hay-breath.” I amusedly groaned.
“You started it.” He shook his mane hard, a few pink strands flying away.
There was a very annoyed groan from the next room as Sparkle finally somewhat roused herself out of sleep and stormed upstairs for her turn to keep watch. She must not have been very awake because her angry stomping paused, became louder, stopped again, and began to become marginally more distant and overhead.
For the next few minutes, I listened to Tangerine toss and turn on an equally uncomfortable bedroll and Rumcake simply creak and breathe. The bug outside sounded like it had found compatriots to assist in its noble mission to prevent my good night’s sleep. Part of me wanted to grab my rifle and go outside for some justice, but I wasn’t nearly that agitated.
“Your wings keep twitching.” Rumcake murmured.
Yes they did. “That’s because I’m annoyed.” I drowsily responded.
I felt him scoot closer to me, the cold metal of his armor pressing up against my body. “Hmm. Sorry if I woke you.” I dragged myself closer to him and did my best to use him as an armored body cloud.
“Mnh. W’s already up. Too warm.”
“It’s not that hot. I’m actually freezing in this.”
My ears perked up. A chance to peel Rummy out of his armor? And he was cold? This was an opportunity to take care of certain needs and further curiosities.
“You’re a perv.” Gala Frosty sighed from Rumcake’s other side.
I opened my eyes, sleep forgotten. “Shaddup.”
“Hm?” Rumcake was undoubtedly confused, like always.
I patted his shoulder. “Not talkin’ to you.” As much as I attempted to mentally resist, murderous curiosity got the better of me.
It had been a while, but I could probably turn on the ol’ bedroom Frosty charm. “Why don’tcha hop out of that and snuggle up by me? I’m hot in every way possible, you’re cold- sounds like a win-win to me.” I mentally winced at parts of that statement.
“I’m not taking off my armor.”
“I did.”
“That’s because you’re hot.”
Hook, line, and unintended sinker. “You betcha.”
Rumcake loudly facehoofed.
“C’mon, it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, I’m sure Sparkle can take care of everything.” I gave him a quick peck on the cheek for good measure.
“What about Tangerine?”
A quick swivel of my ears revealed that the scribe had finally nodded off, probably in a back-wrecking position like always. “She’s asleep. What are you, chicken?”
Hopefully that was enough to convince him to relax and finally take off his damn armor for once. I was more amazed that he could sit around in his armor literally all the time without the slightest hint of being uncomfortable.
“Well…” Rumcake looked around. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”
Yes! Score one for Frosty. I watched him stand up and slowly shed parts of his armor, one piece at a time. In the interest of safety, I didn’t get up to help simply because I barely knew how my power armor came on. The last thing I wanted to do was get something stuck or damage a clasp or whatever.
Finally, Rumcake shook off his last greave and folded everything down into a nice neat square- something I still couldn’t understand. He flopped down next to me and allowed me to drape myself across his back.
As I made myself comfortable all over him, I felt like the atmosphere in the room needed a slight shift. “Say something sexy.” I coaxed.
“Your ass is grass and I’m going to mow it.” Rumcake proudly whispered back.
I visibly winced in reaction to his attempt at possibly romantic comedy. Couldn’t be sure. There were also a few unintended mental images that also wormed their way into my mind. However way he intended it, he obviously noticed too.
“Was it bad?”
“Zero out of ten, would cringe again. Try again, doofus.” I reassuringly hugged him around the neck. “Try something out of a romance novel.”
Rumcake carefully mulled over his next words. “I’m bringing sexy back?”
I face-floored. “I said novel, not bad pre-war music. Sexy’s about to leave if you keep this up.”
“If I said you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? ”
I cracked a goofy smile and squeezed him tighter. “That’s more like it.”
“Now I’m bringing sexy back?”
I softly cuffed him under his chin. “No. Bad.”
“Meh. I’m just tired. Give me a break.”
“I could help you blow off some steam.” I coyly whispered into his ear.
Suddenly, all movement ceased from the stallion under me. Oh, he knew what I meant all right. The pressing matter was whether he was in the mood or not.
“I don’t know… I mean, Tangerine’s right over there.”
Unfortunately, he had a point. “Well, let’s just hope she’s a heavy sleeper.”
“And Sparkle? You get a bit loud and flappy when y-”
Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Sh! We don’t talk about that.” I immediately demanded, clamping my claw over his mouth.
“Mnghf tfh.”
Admittedly, he had a point again. “Fine, how about this time I’ll do the work and you sit back and let me work my magic. Let’s not wake anypony else up.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t you want to, you know…”
I batted at his ear playfully. “You could take me like the mare I am.”
Rumcake awkwardly coughed. “Yeah, about that…”
Uh oh. I didn’t like where this was going.
“I don’t really have the natural equipment to do that with you.”
“What.”
“Well, it just so happens I did pick up some very interesting stuff from a sex shop I’ve been saving for just this reason.”
I was still trying to get over the impact of the first revelation. “Wh- HOW?”
“Now here is the most interesting thing. It not only resembles the male phallus. but it also oscillates and gyrates when an electrical current is passed through with a switch.” Rumcake reached over to his armor to try and access his saddlebags. “It’s also the most fabulous shade of yellow.”
“No- I mean-” Wasn’t possible. Nuh-uh. No way.
With a sudden colossal heave, I flipped Rumcake onto his back and didn’t find what I was hoping to see. “WHERE’S YOUR DICK?” I violently hissed, not wanting to disrupt the peace any more it already had been. Correction- her back, apparently.
“Frosty, I’m a chick.”
Somewhere, in the vast openness of the galaxy, a minor goddess cringed at the profanity being violently proclaimed in her general direction.
Intermission (e^2+∛30): Where will I go from here?
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast for an important message…”
One whole week. A week of rehab, recovery, and lots of explanations. Mostly rehab. Good news, though. Since the slavers got wiped out, I’d decided to permanently take up residence in Happy Hills. I didn’t really care about going back to the Enclave at this point since I’d been irreversibly “contaminated” by the Wasteland. I wouldn’t be able to get back into the Enclave, never mind being able to rejoin active service.
Life returned to normal, or as normal as the Wasteland would allow me to. Since I’d sufficiently proven myself to not be a menace to society, I was an official citizen in the eyes of the mayor. That also gave me the responsibilities of a citizen. Mostly cleaning, weapon maintenance, and sweltering in Underhill for scrap metal.
My little deal with the Steel Rangers was working out in the long run so far. With even Red Eye’s slavers failing at conquering our little town, no ponies with ill intentions dared to poke our town’s steel reinforced walls with even a stick. And with a few major routes now protected by the Steel Rangers, trade started trickling in from neighboring towns and settlements.
“Hey. Yoohoo!” Somepony waved a rag in front of me. “Anypony home in there?” I snapped back into focus, dropping my auto-saw heavily onto the ground with a grunt.
“Wuh?” I shook my head hard to dislodge the cobwebs. The mental kind, and the real kind. “I’m here.” Note to self, double shifts suck.
Duly noted.
Shut up, brain. “What did you need?” I asked, turning to Trouble.
“Careful with that,” she said with a giggle. “It costs four hundred caps to operate for like, twelve seconds. I don’t even want to know how much it costs to repair that thing. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
I sighed, shifting in place. “Ugh, I don’t know. Stuff, I guess.” My scrap bags were digging into my back in a really uncomfortable manner, and something sharp was poking me every time I moved. “You ever wonder why we’re here?”
“To endlessly dig in these tunnels and construct monstrosities in testament to our own vanity?” she suggested, to which I simply gave her a flat stare. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” I replied. A filing cabinet was quickly reduced to a pile of metal rods and sheets by my auto-saw. I spat out the bit and carefully collected up the bits of filing cabinet on the floor.
“Aww, come on.” Trouble pouted. “We haven’t talked in, like, forever!”
I weakly smiled at her. “I’ve been busy,” came my simple reply. “Things to do, sanity to lose and whatnot.” Even after Instant’s help, my other personalities refused to leave. Whether it was a good thing or not was still undecided. A familiar hallway caught my attention, specifically the one that led down into the ‘Energy Application Offices’. Back where everything pretty much started. “Can you turn my stuff in? I want to check something out, for curiosity’s sake.”
Trouble groaned. “Fine.” I gratefully shrugged off the scrap bags and adjusted my saddlebag. “You owe me one.” She grabbed the bag in her teeth with a snort and backed out down the hallway toward the hub. “La’er.”
I distractedly waved her goodbye. After nearly two and a half weeks, I still had no idea what the Rangers were so fixated on down here, especially after they had gotten hold of more complete blueprints of the entire facility from the mayor. Since they still hadn’t lost interest, that meant there was something they weren’t willing to let go of easily.
Using the navigation function on my PipBuck, I followed the winding corridors and rooms all the way into the reactor chamber. Since the town had so much spare metal, they covered up the super-radioactive reactor crater with steel plating. The rest of the room was still mildly radioactive, giving me about two rads per second.
The large blast door that Rumcake and Baked were standing in front of nearly a month ago was still sealed. A brand new terminal was bolted to the wall where a door switch would normally have been. So there was something behind that door they wanted to keep safe, eh? “Alright, brain. Let’s see how much we were paying attention in tech class…”
Even with the assistance of the PipBuck’s built-in hacking tool, I struggled to even figure out how to force my way through the terminal’s security. Good thing nopony was guarding it, or else I would have a lot of explaining to do. Thanks to the suggestions I was getting from myself to back out of the terminal and let it reset, I wasn’t getting locked out.
Apparently I didn’t really pay nearly enough attention in tech class. It took me fifteen attempts at the terminal, including multiple reboots, but I finally managed to get the password. It was “cheese”. The door creaked open, splitting in half lengthwise to reveal… a tiny little door behind it. Or at least what used to be a doorway. The last pony to open the door didn’t appreciate the architect’s humor and removed a few feet of concrete on either side with an explosive device.
“Die, zebra scum!” a robotic voice yelled the second I stepped into the room. Several ceiling-mounted turrets spun in their mounts to point at me. Good thing I skipped breakfast, or it might have exited my bowels right then and there. I screamed like a little filly as the turrets were about to open fire.
Which they never did. Because they had no bullets. However, I continued screaming as the turrets menacingly clicked at me. The voice laughed hysterically. “Oh, that will never get old! If I had a body, I’d be peeing myself right now!”
I slammed my mouth shut and glared at a speaker high on the wall. “The buck was that for?” I screamed, throwing a bottle at it.
“You don’t live two hundred fifty years without a sense of humor,” the voice said. “Down here.” I looked down at a large supercomputer with a large dusty jar sitting on top of it. “Yes, I am a computer. Problem?”
I trotted up to the computer and sat down in front of its medium-sized display. “So… what the buck are you, then?”
“Call me the Tinker-Tank,” it smugly replied. “And you are much prettier than those outdated war machines and their cultists, I might add.” Well, the Rangers had been here after all. “Welcome to my private chamber of mostly-but-not-quite solitude.”
“Well, uh, thank you,” I replied, taken aback. “What… are you, again?”
“I’m a brain in a jar.” I looked at the large dusty jar where I could barely make out a brain-shaped blob. “And might I say you look positively fetching with that mechanical hoof.”
“It’s a claw, but thanks,” I corrected him. “So, Tinker-Tank, what do you do? Or actually, what did you do?” There had to be a reason why Seapony Energy had a supercomputer down here. Brain machine. Whatever.
The machine stopped in thought for a moment, processors whirring. “Well, the maniacs in charge don’t own me anymore, so it doesn’t really matter,” Tinker-Tank said. “Apparently somepony at Seapony Energy thought that the Ministry of Arcane Science shouldn’t be the only one with a ‘Think Tank’ project.”
“A what.” I stared down the thing in confusion.
“Basically, I’m a brain hooked up to some computers and manufacturing equipment,” Tinker-Tank replied. “Since the bombs fell, I’ve created a separate machine to power myself without a power grid.” A tiny light over a blast-marred door flickered to life. “Go ahead and check it out.”
“And why would I go in there?” I asked, doubting the Tinker-Tank. “Actually, a better question is why would you even let me in?”
“Mostly because you’re pretty,” it replied immediately. “Go on, it’s fine. I’ve unlocked the door for you. Wait.” There was a metallic scraping from the other side of the door. “Okay, now it’s unlocked. Watch the ceiling. My cameras back there can’t see anything because the lights went out a long time ago.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered, cautiously opening the door. My claw tapped the ground with a metallic click, which I ignored. My hoof hit the ground with a loud metallic clank. Uh oh. “What th—”
A domed energy field suddenly materialized around me, trapping me on the edge of a peculiar disc-shaped device. “Sorry, love, but I’ve wanted to test the Transportalponder on somepony for the longest time!” The Transportalponder whirred and heated up under my hooves. “No hard feelings?”
"This force field displeases me!" I spread my wings and lifted myself off of the dangerously hot surface of the Transportalponder, which lurched into a ear-splitting whine. "As does your interior decorating!"
"And what will you actually do about that?"
“If I ever find you again I’m going to bucking rip your head off and shove it down your ass!” I screamed in rage.
He doesn’t actually have a—
I KNOW, BRAIN! SHUT UP!
During that brief internal argument, everything disappeared in a flash of light and magic. My surroundings disappeared, and I could literally feel myself being lifted out of reality and flung through a vortex of energy and nothingness. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t think, but nevertheless one question remained in my mind:
…Where will I go from here?
Footnote: Loading new chunks… Placing dirt in the rocks… Deploying smooth jazz…. Done.
Specifically, the back of my head hurt. I tried to open my eyes, but they refused to open. Something was keeping them glued closed, so I tried to wipe whatever it was away. My claw refused to move, as did my right hoof. Panic set in— I couldn’t move at all! Hindlegs? Stuck. Leg? Unresponsive. I couldn’t really tell whether my talons were opening or closing without the ability to see them. My other senses slowly returned and I began to feel the uncomfortable gel-like substance encasing me.
I inhaled in surprise and nearly choked on slime, but somehow I managed to keep breathing. “Mnmmn!” Even my mouth had been sealed! What gives?
“Oh good, you’re conscious.” The voice was muffled, and it sounded like it almost echoed around me rather than come from a direction. “Sorry about your, heh, accommodations. It’s been a while since I did this to a pony.”
What was going on? I began to squirm with increased urgency, trying to break free. I even tried to scream loud enough to maybe somehow get through the binding around my mouth.
A dull thud reverberated around me. “Probably shouldn’t be doing that. You’ll need your energy for the next part.” The voice chuckled, somewhat familiar, if not retaining its echoey quality. Was I inside a box? “Bear with me for a moment.”
There was an almost wet, fleshy, cracking noise somewhere above me, and the barest hint of light penetrated the stuff sealing my eyelids. Fluid splashed, everything shifted for a second, then the light faded away.
The voice chuckled. “I’ll be back. Sit tight.” A dull thump again, which was probably her slapping the side of the thing I was in— a barrel? Was I going to die? Fear seeped into my system and I began to struggle harder. I needed to get out. My limbs were bound tight enough to prevent me from breaking free, which only solidified the fact that I was completely trapped. The second I began to hyperventilate, I started choking on the liquid. It took the last dregs of my sanity to stop, calm down, and resume breathing properly again. Escaping wouldn’t be easy- all I could do was rock back and forth and hope that momentum would tip me over.
With every rock I made, I slowly began to get more and more exhausted. Maybe I should save my strength for another effort later.
^v^v^:::+++++:::^v^v^
I was woken up by pain wracking my wings and body. It felt like my feathers were being pulled out by the hoof-full, my wings twisted and pulled in all the wrong ways. Tears wouldn’t come, my screams couldn’t make it past the thing covering my mouth, so all I could do was writhe and whine in pain. My eyes burned, and I thanked Luna that I couldn’t open them.
Time faded away and the tearing pain overwhelmed me.
^v^v^;::+++++:;:^v^v^
Suddenly, I was awake again. I blinked and saw nothing but murky darkness and sickly green.
Wait.
I blinked.
My heart leapt for a second. I could open my eyes, and they didn’t hurt anymore! The rest of me ached and stung, refusing to obey my commands to move, but at least I could see. The stuff over my eyes must have fallen off while I was out, but it still didn’t answer where I was.
The feeling subsided once I realized I was still going to die in here.
Hoping for a way out, I tried my best to examine my surroundings without the use of my neck. Whatever I was in, it looked organic… almost like a spider’s cocoon. The greenish sludge I was submerged in wasn’t drowning me, but it was like trying to breathe pudding. There was a slightly clearer, almost window-like patch of stuff right ahead of me, and out of that I could barely make out what looked like a beaten-up desk and a chair.
I needed to get out of here.
If only I could stay awake.
Shit.
^v^v^;::+++++:;:^v^v^
A driving pain in my brain shocked me back to life. My head pounded, I couldn’t think. I thrashed and rocked in a vain attempt to make myself feel better. During my struggle, I threw my head back and my forehead touched the back wall of my cocoon.
Specifically, something attached to my forehead sent a stab of pain into my head. Panic threw me into overdrive to get rid of the thing, but my limbs refused to move. One last-ditch attempt to break it off only made it hurt more, so I stopped to cry and whimper in pain. What was happening to me?
Was this thing full of taint?
I didn’t want to die.
Dying felt like it hurt.
The idea that the goop was trying to keep me asleep seemed like a pretty reasonable hypothesis.
^v^v^;::+-+++:;:^v*v^
Thunk. Thunk-Thunk. Thunk.
My eyes snapped open, and I stared at my reflection in the clear area on the cocoon I was trapped in. My head didn’t hurt anymore, but the thing felt like it was still there. I tilted my head in confusion and sighed in relief when the reflection followed suit.
Okay, I was still normal. Just trapped in a cocoon-thing and not drowning to death.
Of course, that feeling vanished when my reflection sneered at me. “Oh good, you’re alive in there.” The voice no longer had the echoey quality to it— my voice. “Sorry about not being around.”
That wasn’t me.
I opened my mouth to snap something back, and realized my teeth were different. As in, I could feel them brush past my lower lip. I opened and closed my mouth in curiousity, my pain and stiffness set aside. What was happening to me?
“Having fun in there?” I— She snarked at me.
Apparently the goo prevented me from talking, since my attempts at conversation were met with blurbling and an amused grin from my evil doppelganger. I attempted to somehow headbutt or ram her, but I barely managed to bend myself forward. Eventually, I settled for an angry glare.
Evil Frosty peered in through the clear-ish window and looked around. “Looks like you’re coming along nicely. Next part’s gonna be fun.” She tapped the view hole and smirked, even mockingly winking at me.
The buck did that mean? Just by the way she’d said it, whatever happened next was going to be terrifying. I had to rest up and muster my energy for the future.
No way was I dying in this bucket. I was going to break out of here and kill Evil Frosty for good.
And why couldn't I move still?
^v^A^;:;+-+++:;:^v*v^
The fun began several hours later. Searing pain pressed into the ends of my legs and the base of my stump, along the seam where metal met flesh. It wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t let up. Trying to move only made the spikes being driven into my limbs hurt more, which wasn’t even remotely fair. I was finally able to move, and now it was just too painful to do it.
On the bright side, my… horn, I guess, didn’t really hurt. It was a small bright spot in the barrel of driving agony I was in. A frighteningly warm sensation near my belly wouldn’t stop tempting me to reach down and scratch it, which would only torture me further.
I cried, I screamed, I tried to curl myself up and hold myself for comfort. Nothing, nothing made it go away. All I could do was squeeze my stump tightly and hope pressure would make the tearing pain go away. No matter how hard I squeezed, all I felt was hardness and metal, not what I was hoping for.
For the first time in a long time, I was well and truly terrified.
Everything hurt.
I didn’t want to die.
Not like this.
*v^A^;:;--++=;;:^v*v^
The friendly reminder that I was alive came with the taste of the floor. My eyes snapped open and I took a deep breath, only to choke and cough up fluid. I pushed myself up into a crouch so I could hammer my chest, then I noticed something that made me stop.
My right leg was glossy, black, and… well, looked a lot like cheese. The rest of me matched— all my limbs ended with random holes along them, except my claw. Whatever had happened to me apparently didn’t work nearly as well on my metal limb, since etchings of the limb-holes stood out on the surface.
I scrambled up and onto my haunches. A spike of pain lanced through my stump and I clutched at it, even though it didn’t help. What was I? What had happened to me? Strands of green dangled into my vision and I realized that my mane had also been forcibly altered. Some sort of green thing was around my midsection, and a tug made me realize it was actually part of me now. I tried to flap my wings in… I don’t know, fright? Rage? They weren’t wings that belonged on a pegasus— these belonged on a bug.
“Damn, I did a great job on you.” A voice— my voice, came from behind me.
“What did you do to me!?” I whirled around and screamed, and I heard my voice for the first time in a long while. Now it was raspy, and ever so slightly echoing on its own. “What did you do?” Tears ran down my cheeks.
Evil me, or rather, old me was sitting on the desk, wearing my duster and dad’s cap, idly tapping it with my claw. “Okay, to be fair I wasn’t expecting this much green.” She chuckled and slid up to me, giving my nose a tap. “You’re an adorable little ‘ling, though. And stop crying already! You’re still dripping and everything.”
A quick jab to Evil Frosty’s gut instead resulted in a shock of agony to my leg, so I was forced to pull it short and cradle my tender limb. “Who. Are. You.” I defiantly snarled into the impostor’s face. It still hurt to move, especially after that last stunt, so all I could do was try to look scary.
Not-Frosty feigned disappointment and looked taken aback. “You don’t remember me? I’m hurt, Frosty.” Green fire burst from herbody and a moment later he was a different pony altogether— but a pony I recognized. Burnt orange coat. Scars. Dumb red mane. Tabber.
“You.”
A smug grin appeared on his face. “Me.” He blinked. “Wow, I can’t even stop thinking like you anymore.”
“You’re not gonna get away with this, you know,” I coughed, holding my chest. Even talking hurt, but that wasn’t going to stop me.
Morphing back into me, Tabber smugly replied, “I already did.” If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would have been surprised that he did a good job of of replicating my claw.
Impossible. “Rumcake is going to notice I’m gone. Nopony is better at being me than me.” Once he figured out I wasn’t acting normal, he’d come for me.
“You’d be surprised. A little smooth talk, a bit of lovey-dovey gooey stuff, and he hasn’t noticed a thing,” Not-Frosty scoffed. “And he loves you so dearly. Such tasty, tasty love.” She smacked her lips and grinned. “I haven’t had love like that in a long time.”
“I—“ So he just didn’t care about me anymore? I’d been replaced? “Y-you’re lying.”
“Look at this smug face and tell me I’m lying.” Tabber-Frosty grinned and stared me in the eye.
Looking at her didn’t really answer anything. I was a lot more busy failing to bite back whimpers of pain and tears. Why did my stump hurt more than the rest of me? Why wouldn’t the hurt just stop?
Frosty looked at her Pipbuck and sighed. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” She stood up and tipped dad’s hat with the tip of a talon. “Oh, and you should probably find somepony to leech off of before you starve to death. Have fun.”
I sat still, desperately trying to ignore the agony I was in. Everything I knew before was gone. Everypony I knew wouldn’t even recognize me anymore, and the way I looked right now would only make me a target. I flitted my bug wings and glumly realized that preening wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
Footnote: Level up! New Perk: Changeling Conversion- The term “pony” no longer applies to you. The ability to disguise has been unlocked. Disguises are ten times as effective as before. You gain +15 DR. Health regenerating items work at half potency. Hardcore mode requirements have changed.
