AlaskanAnon in Equestria ch. 17

>A loud crash rouses you from your slumber, and you bolt upright

>Your eyes snap open, and you sweep them over your immediate surroundings

>There's no air horn aimed at your face, so at least there's that

>Across the room, one of your chairs is on its side

>Next to a sheepish looking Twilight suppressing a nervous smile

>You groan and flop back into bed

>"Sorry Anonymous"

>Removing your arm from your face, you consult your watch on the other

'S okay, I have to get up anyway

>You grumble

>Then you reach over for your glasses

>AppleJack's already up and gone

>And Twilight appears to be done in the bathroom

>You can hear, however, the coffee machine bubbling away on the counter

>You rise to your feet

>The cold floor serves to bring you more rapidly to consciousness as you sieze your magical storage device

>And, after a nod to the the purple mare righting your chair, you stumble into the bathroom

 

 

>Drain your bladder

>Take a nice hot shower

>Which you surprisingly don't have to sit on the ground to get under

>Just crouch a bit for your hair

>You vaguely recall a p0ny at some point mentioning something about these being the "Minotaur quarters"

>Finish the shower, towel dry

>Shave with your knife

>As the world seems to be conspiring against you acquiring a proper razor

>On the upside, you're getting better at it

>Only one cut this time, and just a nick at that!

>Pull on fresh clothes

>Shrug on holster

>Pin cloak

>And you're ready to face another day in this technicolor wonderland

>Well, almost

 

 

>The lock on the door yields to your dextrous fingers, and you emerge into your place of residence

>Just in time to see Twilight pouring the entire contents of the coffee pot into a mug

>She looks up when she's finished, and her face falls a bit

>"Oh, I'm sorry.  Did you want any?" She asks somewhat guiltily

Nah, I'm good

>You remark

>YOu're sure that if she could shrug, she would

>It's certainly the expression on her face

>That, and mild bemusement

>You stride for the door and pull it open

>You start pulling it closed behind you, when it stops

>Your questing eyes find the knob enveloped in that peculiar purple glow, and you peer further back

>Twilight's a fair distance across the room, coffee mug held in her magical grasp

>"Mind if I join you for breakfast?"

Sure

>You respond, pressing the door open a little wider

>She joins you in the hallway, and you press on towards the mess hall

 

 

>Breakfast is quick

>You get some of the royally sanctioned pancakes this time

>And while they ARE good

>It just isn't the same as your version

>You make a mental note to pick up the goods necessary

>So you can whip up a batch of your own

>And if you're careful to do it when a certain apprentice isn't around

>You might avoid another round of pyrotechnic questioning

>Twilight, you note, opts for a bowl of oatmeal

>No, wait

>That's a bowl of plain oats

>yet another feature of this land that takes some getting used to

>The resident's herbivorous nature

>Your supply of carbs restocked, you rise from your chair and deposit your tray

>NoW you're ready to face the day

 

 

 

>Your first course of action, you decide, will be to stop by the public office

>You need a map of the city

>See if you can't find a griffon establishment for some proper meat

>Since shooting game outside city limits is out of the question

>The report would bring every guard in Canterlot down on your head

>You find the actually getting to the office, however, somewhat difficult

>The hallways are absolutely packed with p0nies

>There are blankets and sleeping mats strewn everywhere

>You have to step over sleeping stallions and mares more than once

>And only your experience with the twisted brambles and roots of rugged Alaskan forest keeps you from tripping over them

>When you do finally arrive, the office itself is packed

>You manage to snatch one of the maps off a rapidly depleting rack, and depart quickly

>The last leg of the journey to the shop is similarly congested

 

 

 

>You finally arrive at the shop, and pull the party hat off your arm

>You have no idea how it got there

>Through the doors, you can see work for the day has already begun

>There are p0nies warming up the furnaces

>Slotting sparkling objects into tools

>A hoof shoots out from under a wagon as you pass, and waves at you

>It's Tamper

>"Ready for a day in the royal mechworks, Anon?"

Livin' the life

>You respond

>Most of the shop chuckles

>You strip off your loose clothing to keep it out of rotating hazards

>The cloak goes in a pocket

>And then you get right to work

 

 

>Most of the work is stuff you're fairly used to

>Welding, bolting, grinding, cutting, buffing

>And a substantial amount of woodworking

>That, you're a little rusty on

>But with the help of the guys, it's coming back to you quick enough

>Another point of interest is the magic engines

>Yes, they have power tools powered by magic

>Or at least, that's what you think

>Some of them are corded, and run to the wall

>But some are cordless, and you sure as hell haven't seen any batteries changing places

>No, instead you see precious gems being slotted into the tools

>And occasionally, a unicorn operating it himself

>That's definitely something to ask Tamper about

>You gotta know how these work if you're gonna fix 'em

>And they'll be a great boon to your project as well

 

 

>You're wondering when the reps will show up

>And you know they will, that demonstration was too impressive for them not to

>When a certain, powerfully built earth p0ny approaches you

>"Hey Anonymous, up for some lunch?"

Lunch?

>What l-

>Your grumbling stomach reminds you that it is, in fact, getting to be around lunchtime

>And a glance at your watch confirms it

Uh, sure.  Ya got a place in mind?

>"Well, me an the guys was figurin' on Broncos"

>Hell, why not.

>Cafeteria's gonna be packed around this time anyway

I'm up for it.  

>You set down your wrench, and find your feet

>Lug Nut and his retinue turn for the door

Lead on

 

 

>At Broncos, you decide to mix it up

>You order the tofu burger

>The only thing remotely close to meat on the menu

>And while you're certainly not hungry after you finish it

>It just isn't the same

>Conversation over the lunch table was pretty interesting

>News of your radical new sled design has apparently filtered in

>And they were asking you all manner of questions

>And, of course, discussing ways of making sleds better

>more efficient, and faster

>You gave pointers where you could, but they did a pretty good job on their own

>There were a few questions about where you got the idea, but not too many

>You just told them it's a commonplace thing in your world

>After one of them asked if you were homesick, they shut up about it pretty quick

>Which leaves you where you are now

>Standing on a street corner with your map flapping in the wind

>You've decided to make sure this griffon restaurant actually exists before you depend on the place for dinner

>And according to the map, it's right down the street

 

 

>Well, it was there alright

>Reminds you of a biker bar

>You couldn't stay long, though

>Your lunch break's about up

>So you're on your way back to work

>Half way back, a familiar voice graces your ears

>"Alright, pull on three!"

>It's coming from around a corner you're approaching

>And you can't help but look down when you go past

>"Vun, two, free!"

>When you do, an interesting sight greets your eyes

 

 

>A weathered and worn wooden wagon sits obstinately in place, surrounded by a half foot of snow

>In front of it, a cyan posterior led by a rainbow tail bobs, and similarly blue wings push against the air

>To the right of the straining hindquarters, you spy another pair

>These are larger, and more of a cream color

>With a black tail

>But nonetheless, working just as hard as their primary colored counterparts

>If not harder

>In the plowed and clear street sits a mare

>Deep green and scarlet of coloration, her ragged scarf hangs limply about her bowed neck

>She ministers soothing words to the grey filly at her hooves

>Hooves splattered with mud and dirty snow

>The wagon finally plows through the snow wall separating it from the street to the sound of shrieking bearings

>The wheels squeak faintly as it finally rides free, and the sudden lack of resistance causes the stallion to land rather roughly on his haunches

>Under a weather weary blanket, you spy all manner of effects

>Bottles, blankets, bedrolls, bags

>Gardening tools, pots and pans, boots

>You even spy a lockbox

 

 

>The stallion rises slowly to his hooves

>And when he turns to the cyan mare, you can see the bags under his eyes

>He says something that escapes your ears

>But Dash's rambunctious response certainly doesn't

>"What?  No way, dude!"

>More murmuring

>"THE DASH is all public service, free of charge!"

>Another murmur

>And then the hindquarters turn

>Snout goes to ear, conspiratorially covered by hoof

>Tired eyes widen, and breath is drawn quickly

>The stallion's speech comes faster now

>"Thank you" can be made out on the chill winter breeze

>Dash downplays

>"Hey, public service, remember?  Just don't be late!"

>The stallion says something final, and Dash turns

>A wave goodbye later, and she rockets off into the sky

>Covering her immediate surroundings in a light powdering of snow

 

 

>And then the moment is past, and you're across the street

>The stallion goes out of view just as he's hitching into the worn harness of the sled

>Ain't that some shit

>That wagon probably contains all their worldly possessions

>Pushed out of house and home, simply for lack of an effective-

>No, really any

>Means of transporting sustainable

>And now they're here

>Just trying to find a place to make a living

>...

>In some ways, that's even worse than you had it

>Because while this is an alien land

>You were fortunate enough to land on a p0ny that took you in

>And made a few key friends pretty damn quick

>This guy, he's got the scarf around his neck

>And that's it...

 

 

>You're hefting one side of a two wheel wagon up onto a crate when a shout rings out across the room

>"VISITOR FOR ANONYMOUS!"

Now who could that be?

>You ponder, holding the wagon aloft

>Blast, the slightly singed unicorn that's helping you, pushes the crate into place

>You set the wagon down on the crate gently

>You have no desire to crack an axle

>Then you rise, pop your neck, and head over for the main door

>On the far side, you see a familiar looking brown p0ny

>His deeper brown mane is slicked back on his head, and he's wearing a collar and tie

>And a saddlebag

>When he catches sight of you, he stands a little taller

>"Hello Anonymous."

Howdy, uuuh...

>"I'm Filthy Rich.  Do you remember me?"

>When he mentions his name, it does come back to you

>From the town meeting

>Feels like it was a buncha months ago, instead of just a few weeks

Yeah, I do remember you.

>Filthy Rich makes an odd little motion, standing himself up a little taller

>"Anonymous, I have a business proposition for you."

>Hmmm

>Can't hurt

Well, why don't we discuss it in my office

>He looks at you inquisitively

 

 

>You arrive at your "office"

>really just a metal table off in a corner you built to your height for some of the more precision work

>You sweep the tools off to the sides, creating a channel in the center

>Then pull up a crate for Filthy Rich so he can actually see the top of it

>And then, on the opposite side, you sit down on your own fresh crafted chair

>Filthy Rich, to his credit, only bats one eye before clambering onto the crate

>You lean forward on your elbows, and clasp your hands together

What brings you to the royal mechworks today, Filthy?

>"I'd like to work out a license agreement with you for these sleds."

You want your guys to make 'em?

>"They tell me they're the best thing since zappapple jam, I'd love to make 'em."

>You notice Tamper step away from the project he's currently supervising

>A wagon axle replacement

>And start slowly cantering in your direction

Well, what would I need to do for that to happen?

>You groan internally

>Fithly pulls a stack of papers from his saddlebags

>And while it doesn't THUMP when it hits the table

>It's too thick

>Roughly as thick as your pinkie, actually

 

 

>You grip your temples

>That's all fine print

>All of it

>"You're not one for paperwork, are you?"

No.

>"I figured as much.  From what I saw of you at the P0nyville emergency meeting.  And that's why I'm here."

Really.

>He takes a breath

>oh boy

>"You don't need a pencil pushing bean counter of a representative in here trying to cut you a shim deal, right?"

You could say that

>"So I made the trip myself from Ponyville to make sure you get a fair deal.  As company founder, I built this whole operation on quality products and honest prices out of my father's general store.  I know what it's like to get bucked over, and I wouldn't wish it on anyp0ny."

Well Mr. Rich, that's just it.

>He shifts a little

>"What is?"

Like you said, I ain't much for paperwork.  I don't read nor write legalese.

>You pick up the stack of papers

This means about as much to me as a box covered in question marks that appears outside my front door.  It could be full of bits, or it could contain a PCP crazed wolverine.  I have no way of knowing until my expert arrives.

>"Your expert?"

>You nod

>"Ya flatter me, Anonymous" Says Tamper as he finally reaches the table

>"An' really, it's fairly simple..."

 

Is it now?

>"Sure.  Standard licensing agreement goes something along the lines of, you're paid royalties for every sled Filthy Rich here produces.  The amount is what ya gotta negotiate."

>You consider for a moment

So what's all this extra confetti here?

>"That's definitions an' references to laws an' suchlike ta make it buckproof in court."

Huh.

>You set the paper down.

Seems I've misjudged ya, mister Rich.  You have my apologies.

>"I can hardly blame you, given the practices of my competitors"

I'm more interested in your plans, if ya have 'em

>"What manner of plans?"

Yer models you've come up with, what ya plan ta sell 'em for...

>"I've got the rough designs here, if you'd like"

I would, yes.

>You shift the papers to the side as Filthy pulls out several much thinner, folded squares

 

 

>Looking over the designs, you realize something

>These are actually solidly built models

>Aside from...

Hey, look here

>"Hmm?"

>Filthy directs his eyes to the paper

You want a longer tongue on this one.  As is, it's too short and whoever's pulling it will catch their asses on the corners whenever they try to turn.

>"I'll be sure to have that corrected" he placates

>on the upper left side of each blueprint, there's a list of material components

>And their prices

>You find the profit margins he's got in mind to be entirely acceptable

>Except...

What's this 'commission' price here?  Does it have something to do with the licensing?

>"It does" he starts

>"As Tamper said, the standard contract pays you royalties per sled sold.  That's the allowance in the price of the sled."

So why is it at twenty bits?

>Filthy scraches the back of his head

>"That's a placeholder number.  It's also the amount copyright holders are usually paid."

So if I wanted to charge you, say, one bit per sled...  The price per unit would go down?

>Filthy's pupils dilate slightly

>"The price would go down by nineteen bits, yes."

 

 

Thet's what I'll do, then.

>Filthy starts getting out writing utensils

>"What, exactly?"

I'll license you, on two conditions.

>"By all means."

First off, I expect royalties of exactly one bit.

>The brown earth p0ny's jaw hits the table

>He recovers pretty quick, though.

>"You're kidding, right?"

Nope.

>Filthy Rich is incredulous

>"This is the invention of the decade, Anonymous!  Do you think I want to leave you flapping in the wind, without two bits to show for it?"

No sir, I do not.

>"The-"

Now, hear out my second condition.

>You say over him, and he shuts up promptly

Secondly, I'd like rights to use your facilities.  Specifically, I'd like to be able to make use of your manufacturing shops and equipment, wherever they may be, provided they're not in the middle of production.

>"That's still a pittance!"

I know.

>"Why are you so determined to shortchange yourself, Anonymous?"

>You close your eyes and inhale deeply through your nose, pinching the bridge of it

Because p0nies need sleds now, mister Rich.  Desperately.  And I don't want to get in the way of that by directly contributing to a higher price.

>Filthy thinks for a moment on this.

>"That's quite the noble cause..."

Yeah, it is.  Now, how 'bout the shops?"

>He re-focuses

>"That... that can be arranged."

Good!

>You clap your hands together

>"Provided you let me cover the cost of any materials you might use."

>You squint at him

>He looks determined

We'll see when I call it in, how 'bout that.

>"Fair enough."

>Filthy begins gathering up his documents

>"I'll need a day or two to modify the contract..."

Come back whenever it's ready

>Filthy Rich finishes gathering his things, and packs them away in the saddlebag

>He turns to go, but pauses

>"Oh, and Anonymous?"

Yeah?

>"The license will expire come spring, so we'll have to re-negociate then."

I look forward to it.

>"We'll see then if I can't get you to agree to a fair contract."

>And then he's off

>Presumably to relay the good news

 

 

>You're screwing the new wheel on the wagon when Blast speaks up

>"So, what didja give him such a good deal for?"

Hmm?

>You say, giving the wrench a final rotation

>"Filthy Rich.  Ya sold him licensing rights fer a pittance"

'Cause I ain't a dick.

>He scratches his temple, and you glance around

>There are a fair number of eyes on you

>"Whatcha mean by that?"

The way he has it set up, my commission, or royalties or whatever come directly from the buyer.  An' I don't exactly think it's fair fer mister and misus everyp0ny to have to pay me for an effective means to live in their houses, as opposed to ten cubic feet in a hallway in this castle somewhere.

>"That's... wow."

>"You're a good stallion, Anonymous!" echoes out from the office

>You see a line of nods go around the room

'Sides, it'd be more money than I know what to do with.  An' it wouldn't look too good to tha princesses if my first act as a royal employee is grubbin' up all the bits I can get my mitts on.

>"You really got all the angles covered there, huh?"

>You chuckle, and wipe your brow

I ain't as dumb as I look.

 

 

>Over the course of the afternoon, you receive no less than three visitors

>All from different companies

>All after the same thing

>You give each and every one of them the same deal

>One bit and permission to make use of their manufacturing facilities, wherever they may be

>This is good for you, of course

>The way you figure it, you'll always have a place to go when your truck needs repair

>If there's a shop in a town, odds are you'll be able to get into it scott free

>So you're getting compensation anyway, you suppose

>Just in a manner that doesn't hurt the common man

>Er, p0ny

>Whatever

>"VISITOR FOR ANONYMOUS"

>The cry sounds out for the fourth time, and you sigh

>So much for getting anything done

>"You sure are popular today, Anonymous" quips Blast

Yeah, it must be my birthday

>You snark

>He chuckles

>You rise from your seat to go meet your newest visitor

 

 

>The latest rep is a pompous looking white stallion with a dirty blonde mane

>He wears a collar, and has what appears to be a compass rose on his ass

>You don't know his name, but he feels familiar

>Bad familiar

>"Ah, yes.  You would be Anonymous?"

Thet's me

>He looks up his nose at you

>"I wish to negotiate for the sleds."

An' you are?

>"Prince Blueblood."

>Sheesh

>Well, may as well hear him out

C'mon then

>you mention, turning

>He pulls up next to you

>And as you walk, you can see him prance around the oil stains and sawdust on the floor

>Fuckin' pussy

>He gets on the crate readily enough, though

 

 

>You take your own seat and watch him across the table

So, what do ya have in mind?

>"On behalf of Blueblood enterprises, I wish to buy the copyright to the sleds from you.  It would be a great boon to the royal family"

No.

>Blueblood just... stops.

>He gapes at you like a carp

>Oh boy

>Here's someone used to getting what they want

>"I would most certainly make it worth your while"

I'm sure you would.  Now, show me your plans.

>"Excuse me?"

Your plans; your models, your pricing, that kind of thing.

>"I suppose..."

>Blueblood fishes from his saddlebag a wad of papers, which you begin to examine

>"Doesn't mean all that much to me"

>Damn

>Of course they don't

>These particular blueprints are of rather poor design

>The support struts are too thin, and there aren't enough bolts on the tongue

>Rather half baked, sub par designs

>And from what you can tell, he plans to charge through the nose for them

 

 

>you set the papers down, which Blueblood apparently takes as his signal

>"Would you at least consent to an exclusive license?"

Hmmm

>You look contemplatively at the ceiling for a moment, stroking your stubble

Nope.

>"Surely, you can do this for me?  I mean, it's only the one desig-"

>You don't know who he thinks he's fooling

No.

>Heh, that's cute

>He's getting mad now

>"Do you have any idea who I am?"

>You lean back and cross your arms

Can't say as I do.

>The stallion puffs up a little

>"I am Blueblood, CEO of blueblood enterprises-"

>A rich prick

>"Prince of the royal family, and heir to to a seat on the grand council-"

>An entitled rich prick who's never been told no

>"-and honorary sergeant of the Celestial guard!"

>With a whole slew of fancy titles, no doubt

 

 

Well, /prince/ Blueblood

>You respond, piling on the sarcasm

I can guarantee you that blueblood enterprises is getting jack shit.

>"Impudent peasant!"

>You push your chair back

Call me what you will.

>Then you uncross your arms, and stand

But stay outta my way.

>And start walking around the table

I got REAL work to do.

>You make a shooing motion

Go prance on back to yer board meetings or whatever it is you management types do with your time.

>"Why, I never-"

I'm sure you haven't.

>"You will regret this, creature!"

I'm sure I will.

>You head right back over to your previous workstation, where Blast is choking back laughter

>Blueblood, the spoiled child, accompanies you

>Spewing insults and thinly veiled threats

>it's bait, of course

>He wants to provoke you

>A couple seconds later, a roar sounds from the real office

>"BLUEBLOOD!"

>A look of genuine fear enters his eyes

>Tamper emerges from his office

>"QUIT HARASSING MY EMPLOYEES, AND GET THE HAY OUTTA MY SHOP"

>Blueblood wavers

>Tamper snorts, and paws the ground

>Now that's interesting

>Blueblood turns tail and runs for the door

 

 

 

 

>You later hear from a couple of the other guys that blueblood is notorious for harassing copyright holders

>Tamper's had to kick him out of the shop so many times, he's considering a restraining order

>But anyway, The work day is finally over

>You crack your knuckles

>Now you can finally get some work done on your special project

>You're half way to the tarp in the corner when the door to the shop opens

>You glance over your shoulder

>There's a guard in full armor in the doorway

>"You are Anonymous?" he calls, and you stop

Yeah?

>"The Captain of the Guard requests your presence."

Right now?

>"Right now."

>You sigh

>But the captain is not one to be left waiting, you suppose

>you wipe your greasy hands on an equally greasy rag

>Then you follow the guard out the door

 

 

>He leads you to the captain's office

>Shining Armor, his name was?

>The guardsp0ny promptly fucks off to parts unknown

>And he's Twilight's brother

>And you destroyed his shooting range

>And that's all you remember at this moment

>You hope this isn't about the range

>You had no idea what those shells would do

>The door to the office opens, bringing you back to reality

>From it emerges a big, pink p0ny

>Really big

>Like, a little smaller than Luna big

>She's got wings and a really long horn

>And a mane of purple, pink and creamy yellow

>What's the term

>An alicorn?

>Another one?

>You thought there were only two

 

 

>"You must be Anonymous" issues forth from her mouth

Yep

>You grunt

>"Princess Cadence.  Pleased to meet you."

>She holds out a hoof

>you reach down and take it, and shake it firmly

>She looks worried about something

>Or she's put off by you

>Hell if you know

>Whatever it is, she doesn't seem to want to talk about it

>She nods to you once, and then continues on her way

>More power to her

>It's her problem, not yours

>You continue on through the door into Shining Armor's office

>Waiting inside for you is none other than the Captain himself, in uniform

>And in front of his desk, his sister

 

 

 

>They both look up at your entry

Hope I ain't interrupting anything important

>You semi-joke

>They both look very serious

>You step inside and close the door behind you

>"We're actually right at the point where we need you..."

And what do you need me for?

>Shining Armor speaks up, sliding a paper across his desk

>"Twilight has recently informed me of your supposed... ability.  She has also expressed the need for a live specimen for her research to continue."

So you want me to go catch one?

>"No.  I want you to point one out for my guardsp0nies, and they'll catch it."

Wouldn't it be easier if I just went and-

>"No.  If your ability is indeed genuine, you are vitally important to Equestria and her citizens.  You must not become a target for them."

>You cross your arms

So how would this work, then?

>Shining Armor nods to Twilight, who turns around to address you

>"There's a large party tonight at the Laughing Gryphon.  It'll be the densest concentration of p0nies in the city, and thus your highest chance of spotting one."

>"Should you accept, you would be attending with a group of off duty guardsp0nies.  When you spot one, you would point it out to one of two designated guardsp0nies, who would then go to the garrison down the road and give a physical description.  The p0nies at the garrison would then fabricate a charge to bring the changeling in on, and retrieve it."

>You consider her plan for a moment

That's pretty slick

>"You would, of course, get tomorrow off if necessary." Pipes in Shining Armor

 

 

Hmmm...

>You consider for a moment

>It's probably better this way

I still think it'd be easier if you let me just go bonk one, but alright.  I'll do it.

>"Excellent!" quips Twilight

>Shining Armor turns around and pulls an ornate cord hanging against the wall

>"I'm glad you're on Equestria's side in this matter, Anonymous."

I swore I was a couple days ago, didn't I?

>The door behind you opens, cutting off any response he might have made

>You turn to look, and find a familiar looking blue and yellow stallion looking up at you

>"C'mon Anonymous, let's go!"

I'll be damned

>You breath, looking back at your beneficiary

>They both nod to you, so you turn around and follow Bolt out the door

>Waiting outside the door is another blue stallion

>Except this one's mane is red and green

>He nods to you

>You nod back

 

 

>"Anonymous, this is Star Blaze.  He's gonna be the other p0ny in on what's actually happening; the rest of the guys just know they've got the day off tomorrow, and they won the company wide lottery on tickets."

Anonymous, nice ta meetcha.

>Star Blaze looks you up and down

>"Nice to meet you too."

>He holds out a hoof in the same posture that Bolt did the other day

>It seems to be their take on a handshake

>You think

>You oblige him

>"You're a big fella, I'm glad you're on our side"

>You chuckle

>"I toldja I'd get you out for a drink with me and the guys" Says Bolt

So how'd they rope you into this?

>"Are you kidding?" He scoffs

>"I get to go to a party, I get tomorrow off, AND I get to catch changeling scum?  I couldn't sign up fast enough!" he says

>Star Blaze nods in agreement

>"Now, are you ready to go?"

Sure

>"Great, the rest of the guys are right down the hall"

 

 

>Sunny Sky leads you down a couple of different hallways, ending at some kind of lobby

>He rounds the corner to a chorus of greetings

>"Hey Bolt!"

>"Oh yeah!"

>You step around the corner with Star Blaze, and the whole mob goes quiet in an instant

>Hmmm

>This may be a problem

>One of them finally speaks up

>"He with you, Bolt?"

>"Yeah"

>Another one belts out

>"Kin he party, is the question"

>"Hell if I know" Responds Sunny Sky

>"But Pinkie said good things about him, and he looks like fun to me"

>"Woah!"

>"PINKIE said good things about him?  Then we're good to go!"

>The guardsp0nies go back to their idle conversation, their curiosity sated

>"Let's buckin' roll out!"

 

 

>The mob

>No

The HERD

>Turns and begins filtering through the door

>"You stick close to us at the club, you hear?" Whispers Star Blaze up at you

>You nod down to him

>Then you get out your jacket in preparation for the walk ahead

>The halls of the castle give way to the chilly night air

>Your breath spews from your mouth in a thick grey fog, the plume of an aging dragon

>You stay towards the rear of the group, with your two companions

>The conversation you hear on the way ranges from discussing the duty roster to the price of bubblegum

>You also hear them discussing, in more hushed tones, your arrival

>Apparently you put up a "Damn good stallionhunt"

>Good to know you're not getting rusty

>When you finally arrive at the "Laughing Gryphon", Bolt provides you with a ticket

>The bouncer looks up at you, and gulps

Don't worry, I have a ticket this time

>You quip, getting a laugh out of the rest of your group

 

 

>The bouncer tears the top off your ticket and provides you with the stub, instructing you to hang on to it

>When you get inside, the party largely disperses

>This place is definitely a step up from Bronco's

>In finery, at least

>But it's not exactly on the level of snobbery, either

>It is, you decide

>More of a white collar establishment

>The wood floor is varnished, although it shows signs of heavy use

>Same for the tables and the bar

>Multi colored sconces illuminate drywalled walls, permeated periodically with wooden support beams

>The ceiling is tiled, which you discover when you lift one up with your head while taking your jacket off

>Bolt emits another chuckle

>"Does that happen often?"

More often than I care for

>You respond

>You suppose it makes sense for them to build this low, given their height

>Save on materials and all that

>But it's still a pain in the ass for you

 

 

>You breath deeply through your nose, and size up the attractions

>There's a dance floor with a spinning disco ball and a series of wall mounted speakers

>Currently hosting a slow waltz

>There are several dart boards

>Twice as many pool tables

>And, surprise surprise, a few poker tables

>There's even what appear to be two indoor horseshoe ranges

>Complete with bootwipes to keep the sand from getting on the hardwood floor

>And of course the bar

>You sweep the entire floor

>But there's no black chitin to be seen

>No glint of wispy, insectile wings

>Your partners look up at you questioningly, so you subtly shake your head

>One goes to the game area, and the other goes to the bar

>The choice is clear

>You head over to the game area

>You want to get yourself re acquainted with that old barroom favorite

>Darts

>You can chuck a hatchet accurately enough to split a card in half at fifteen paces

>But you're not so sure how well that'll translate

 

 

>A dart board miraculously clears up for you

>You practice with three darts a few times

>Sweeping the restaurant every time you walk back to the throwing line

>Then one of the other guardsp0nies challenges you to a game

>And so you get in a few games of darts with him

>He beats you soundly by throwing darts with his magic

>Right up until another p0ny points out that using magic is cheating, and you make him use his hooves

>You win two out of three games after that

>He bids you farewell after his second loss in a row

>And you mosey on over to the bar

>Sunny Sky's set up at a stool

>So you remove the one adjacent to him and plop down

 

 

>He nods to you

>"What'll ya have?" inquires the bartender

I'll have some cider... and soup

>Bolt nods to you as the bartender pours you a mug

>you squint up at the wooden menu, before withdrawing the proper number of bits from your pocket and putting them on the bar

>Then you take the mug, and have a swallow

>Your hand goes all the way around the damn thing

>And you take half the mug in the swallow

>Fucking tiny p0ny utensils

>Your throat whetted, you turn back to Bolt

>Or more accurately, Bolt's posterior

>He's putting the moves on a mare sitting next to him

>Or at least, he's trying to

>You roll your eyes

>It sounds like he intends to take it slow

>So you'll cut him some slack

>The surrounding bar is occupied by guardsp0nies

>It's standard bar fare going on, most of which you join in on

>A combination of judging the shapely mares on the dance floor, general griping and speculation about the future

 

 

>You've finished the soup and are sipping your cider when you decide to survey the bar once more

>Black chitin catches your eye, and you nearly choke on the golden liquid

>Sitting in one of the booths on the far wall is a changeling

>In the middle of a deep, animated discussion with the p0ny sitting across from it

>You first bring your drink down and set it on the bar behind you

>No point in wasting good-

>Well

>No point in wasting a drink you paid for

>Then you elbow Bolt

>Hard

>He pivots almost immediately

>"What" comes hissing from his mouth

>You don't point

>The best way to alert someone to the fact that they're being watched is to point at them

>Instead, you nod

Third booth down from the left, sitting on the outside

>You mumble to him, barely audible

>Bolt's eyes immediately focus

>"Left side or right?" he inquires nearly inaudibly, having located the appropriate table

Left

>"And you're absolutely sure?"

Sure as spit

 

 

>Bolt makes his excuses to the mare next to him, who looks disappointed

>Then he heads for the door

>he's staggering a little, but you're fairly sure it's for show

>For your part, you turn back to your drink

>The mare is looking at you

>She looks a little worse for the bottle

>"He's such a strong p0ny... where's he going?"

>She asks you

>"You talked to him before he left"

>You shrug

All he said was, 'Duty calls'

>Then you finish off your drink

>You're at the point where you gotta go

>So you get up and head for the door

>The little stallion's room

 

 

>The stalls come about up to your hips

>But that's high enough

>You relieve yourself

>You're on your knees washing your hands when you hear the front door slam

>And you swagger out into the restaurant just in time to see them bringing the scum in

>Three guardsp0nies are at the booth in question

>Lunar guards, to be exact

>One of them puts a set of cuffs on the thing

>Now that's interesting

>P0ny cuffs are different from human cuffs

>Where human cuffs have two, p0ny cuffs have four

>And they're interconnected by chain

>The p0ny inside can walk in them, to be sure

>But the length of the chain prevents them from going any faster

>You watch them frog march ol' buggy out of the place with minimal trouble

>it went willingly, not even compromising its cover to keep out of jail

 

 

>With your duty to the state finished, you decide to take your leave of the party

>It's starting to get late, and you have no intention of ditching out on your boss on the third day on the job

>If you're quick, you might get an hour or two of work on your project done too

>So, after pulling on your jacket, you nod to Star Blaze

>And head out the door into the freezing night air

>As you walk off into the distance, the bass from the speakers slowly fades from the air

>It really is a nice night out night

>The sky isn't as visible as it was back home, owing to the lights of the city

>But it's still quite the sight

>The stars twinkle down at you, beautiful in their strange, alien constellations

>And a three quarter full moon lights your path where the street lights do not

>As your boots crunch over the ice, you find yourself hard pressed to think of a place you'd rather be at the moment

 

 

>You're in a rougher part of town when a shriek pierces the crystalline air

>It's hauntingly familiar, and emanates from a nearby alley

>You consider your options

>You're supposed to go get a guard in this situation...

>You mentally laugh at yourself

>That's not what you're gonna do

>And you know it

>Instead, you crack your knuckles

>This will be fun

 

 

>Another shriek emerges from the alleyway, and you hasten your pace

>When you finally round the corner, a rather interesting scene greets your eyes

>A white unicorn in boots, a hat, scarf and saddlebags is backed into a corner

>In front of her, a pair of scruffy looking earth ponies loom

>One of them has a knife on his hoof

>The important part is, though

>They haven't seen you yet

>You prepare yourself for the conflict as you advance

>Your arms hang wider as your core muscles tense

>You bend your knees slightly, assuming a more mobile, aggressive stance

>Your eyes are chips of flint on a pure white field of snow

>Your mouth a thin, bloodless gash

>Everything about you screams aggression

>I am large, I am a predator, your body language says.

>Do not fuck with me.

>At least, that's what you hope

>It's worked on people

>Well, humans

>Before

 

 

>The mare notices you first, and her eyes widen

If you two know what's good for you, you'll fuck off

>You say

>Your voice is an iron stove being dragged across rocks

>The one on the right, who has a flaming red mane in a mohawk, turns around

>As his eyes travel up, and up, and up, his jaw drops

>He pokes his partner

>"T-trask..."

>"What?" the one with the knife asks angrily

>"Can't you see I'm busy?  You handle it!"

Beat it, scum

>You grunt, and Trask suddenly deems you worthy of his attention

>"Mind your own business!" He says as he turns

>Then he finishes turning, and his voice loses its bravado

>"O-oor I'll use this!"

>He brandishes the knife

>You laugh

You really think you can hurt me with that puny thing?

>Then you smile

>The smile of a killer, your lips pulled back too far

>Revealing too many teeth

I will feed it to you!

 

 

>He quails, and you decide now is the time

>The moment is ripe

>You lung, roaring like a primal beast from some child's waking nightmares

RRRAAAAAGGGHHHHH!

>Unfortunately for you, Trask decided to make a defensive swipe with the knife as you lunged

>The motion of your leg brings the knife through your pants and into your leg, drawing a bright line of pain across your calf

>It adds an aura of rage to your roar

>Your other leg comes up at the speed of FUCK

>And catches him right under the chin

>His entire torso twists with the blow, sending him left

>And right over the withers of his companion

 

 

>The nameless accomplice screams at your continued roaring and continual approach

>If there wasn't malice in your eyes before, there is now

>He catches his partner's mane in his teeth, and his scream muffles appropriately

>Then he takes off down the alley, kicking up snow and ice behind him

>Fucker's moving pretty good, too

>You pursue them a few steps, but they round the corner rather quickly

>You cease yelling abruptly, switching to cursing under your breath

FUCK

>You crouch over and remove the knife from your leg

>It was mostly your pants holding it in place

>Lucky bastard got you right above your boot

>Driven by pain and anger, you turn and stab the knife into a convienent crate

>It sinks up to the handle into the frozen wood

>Then you turn around, ceasing your foul mouthed litany

>The mare you went to all this trouble for is backed into the corner even further, if anything

>A look of unthinking terror in her eyes

>And on her flank, a trio of diamonds....

 

Uh, Rarity?  I ain't gonna hurt ya

>You try to remember the contents of your cloak

>You can already feel warm wetness soaking into the top of your sock

>Meanwhile, Rarity looks up at you, and comprehension dawns

>"Oh!  Oh my... Mister Anonymous.  I... rather didn't recognize you..."

>You stick your hand in your pocket, hoping you had thought to pack a first aid kit

>Many items file past your hand

>Well, that's the next addition you're making

>Rarity's eyes focus, and then they get wider

>"Oh my..."

>They've settled somewhere around your knees

>"Is that blood?"

Wuh?

>you keep digging, and pull the pocket wider

>Attempting to peer inside

Uh, yeah

>Maybe you've got some gauze, at least

>You could have sworn there was one in your truck

>Must still be there

 

 

>"Anonymous, I demand you sit down this instant!"

>There's steel there, which causes you to look up

Why?

>"So I can tend to your wound!"

>Huh

>Well, she is a unicorn

>So you guess the potential's there

>Although you wouldn't put it past a seamstress...

I didn't know you were a nurse

>"I'm not" she tuts as she bustles up to you

>"But with all the odd things that go on around p0nyville, I'd be an idiot not to know basic first aid"

>"Now, are you going to sit down and let me help you, or just stand there until you bleed out?"

I guess...

>You remove your arms from your cloak and sweep snow off a crate

>Then you back up and have a seat

>"It's the least I can do..." She mutters

 

 

>You roll your pantleg up, ignoring the flare of pain when the cuff passes over the wound

>It's dark in the alleyway, so you pull out a flashlight and turn it on

>...Well that ain't so bad

>It's a long, shallow cut

>Right along the side of your leg

>The idiot was a bigger wimp than even you expected

>It is, however, still bleeding

>It's stained a fair portion of your sock crimson

>Rarity grimaces

>"This won't do at all"

>Then her horn lights up, and a sickly, sparkling glow appears over the damage

>You get a tingling sensation there, which quickly progresses to the pricking of needle

>And a dull burn

>The blood, as you watch, turns to a fine red powder

>Rarity blows gently on your leg, and the powder floats off and lands on some nearby snow, dying it red

Disenfectant... spell?

>"Correct.  You're brighter than you appear."

>You decide not to be insulted.

Pays to know this stuff.

 

 

>From the saddlebags emerge a pair of scissors and a strip of red cloth

>The cloth wraps around your leg, pulling itself tight

>And then the scissors cut it off with a fair margin to spare

>Both the scissors and the remaining cloth float back into the bag

So what's a fine lady such as yourself doing out at this time of night, anyway?

>"Hmm?"

>Several safety pins float out of the bag and affix themselves to your ad-hoc bandage

>"Oh, I was out to buy premium fabric, I've got a special order from a customer."

>Rarity steps back, and her horn takes on a brighter glow

Uh...  red fabric?

>"The very same.  Now, roll down your... pants, dear."

>You roll your pantleg down over the bandage without too much trouble

>This time Rarity points her horn at your leg

>Before you can protest, it emits a pale blue beam

>She takes the beam over the cut in your pants, and down below the bandage where your sock is

>When she's finished, you shine the flashlight down

>All the bloodstains are gone

 

 

The cloth that's around my leg?

>"Yes, darling.  Now, hold still."

>From the saddlebags come a needle and thread, and a patch of denim

>...Of course she's have those on her

>She begins to patch the hole in your pants, and you hold the flashlight steady for her

That's mighty kind of you...

>"Oh pish posh."

>She snorts, sending gouts of fog into the darkness

>"I've more than enough material for the dress, even after this little... debacle.  And even if I didn't, I'd have done it anyway."

>She snaps the thread, stowing her supplies away in her saddlebags

>"I AM the element of generosity, darling."

>You run a hand over the patch, making sure it's sound

>Whatever stitch she used, it's beyond you

>But it feels strong enough

 

 

>you put your hands on your knees and rise from the crate, wincing slightly

>He didn't exactly kneecap you

>But at the same time, it's a cut

>And it hurts

>Then you turn to the knife

>It's in there pretty good

>You grip the hilt, and pull hard

>Eventually, it comes free

>It's a cheap switch blade

>The Saturday night special of knives

>The mechanism is shot, too

>You broke/fused it when you stabbed too hard with it

>"What are you going to do with that?" asks Rarity

I'll melt it down in the shop tomorrow

>You tell her

 

 

Yer headed back to the castle then?

>"Yes.  Yes, I am."

Mind if I join ya?

>Rarity scuffs her hoof.

>"I daresay that having such an impressively large and terrifying creature as yourself to walk with would be... quite beneficial."

Least I can do

>You agree

>You click your flashlight off, and gesture towards the streetlit mouth of the alleyway

Shall we, then?

>"Please, the pleasure is mine" she says, barely a hint of sarcasm evident in her tone

>You set off into the distance, with Rarity in tow

 

 

>The tune plays through your head

>That song from your home world

>It's catchy, and the knife reminded you

>And now you just can't get it out of your head

>Your boots move in time to the beat, one every other

Mister saturday night special, got a barrel that's blue and cold...

Ain't good for nuthin', 'cept-

>"Did you say something, Anonymous?"

>Rarity turns her ice blue eyes up at you

Nah.  Just got a song stuck in my head.

>"I see."

>"From your home?"

One of 'em, yeah.

>You continue on in silence a bit more, the crunch of the snow and the whisper of the wind your companions

>Then, it occurs to you

Actually...

>"Hmm?"

Rarity, I'd like your help with something...

>"Oh?"

Yeah.  I've got an idea of what I want to do, but the best I can do as far as clothing is patching and fixing the occasional ripped seam.  

>"Well, I'd have to hear what your idea is first, dear"

I'll pay for it all, of course

>"Let's just hear the idea, dear"