Title:           Ground Control To Science Twi - part 2
Author:          nohooves
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/PF30Mie8
First Edit:      Tuesday 13th of October 2015 06:46:29 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Thursday 17th of December 2015 11:52:19 PM CDT

>Twilight stuttered, trying to make sense of her predicament.
>She carefully went over the list of insane happenstances around her, trying not to burst a blood vessel.
>Sunset dragged her into this hyperspace-dimension thing. Okay.
>The planet she grew up on vanished into some random coordinates in the void. Good so far.
>She might not have a job to go back to anymore. A big glass of bourbon might cure that. A very, very big one.
>Trixie is here.
>Twilight's eye twitched uncontrollably.
 
"Pardon my language, but what the fuck is going on in here? TRIXIE? Out of thin fucking AIR??"
>>"Thin void," Sunset corrected her.
"Thin void, thick void, WHATEVER."
>Twilight stuck her finger on Sunset's nose.
"You better not be fucking with me, Sunny. Is this one of your hi-tech hologram or whatsits? You think you can just throw me a digitized piece of my ex-girlfriend's ass and make me *forget* about Earth?"
>Sunset cringed, raising a finger.
>>"Twilight, wait--"
"No. No waiting. I am absolutely INCONSOLABLE right now. I just lost everything I owned and the planet I grew up on to... to..."
>Twilight flailed her arms wildly in the air around her.
"...to this stupid SPACE, Sunny. A Trixie-lookalike fuckbot isn't going to replace ANY of that!"
 
>Twilight approached her ex-lover angrily.
"Besides, she doesn't even LOOK real."
>She stuck an infuriated finger on Trixie's tummy, half-expecting it to pass through the trick of the light.
>Instead, Trixie yelped in surprise.
 
"Oooh, tactile response. Big fucking deal."
>Twilight wiggled her fingers in the air sarcastically.
 
>Another poke on the ribcage. Hard bone and muscle.
"Okay, this is actually pretty damn good--"
>Twilight continued to poke and grope here and there, elliciting a series of flustered response from Trixie.
 
>Trixie stammered.
>>"M-Miss Sparkle! Could you PLEASE get your hands off of me?"
"Shut up, I'm trying to decide if you hold up to the real thing or not."
>Actually, she seemed real enough.
>Twilight raised her hands a little higher, and--
>Trixie gasped out loud as Twilight gave her breasts a firm squeeze.
>A loud slap echoed in the empty concrete building.
>Blinding lights and stars danced in Twilight's eyes, her cheek searing with pain.
 
>Somewhere out of her field of view, the stern voice of one pale-blue tech wizard drove the point home.
>>"That's QUITE ENOUGH."
 
>Sunset buried her face in her hands, murmuring to herself.
>>"This is SO embarrassing...."
 
-
 
"Oh. OH SHIT."
>>"Understatement of the century, Twi," whispered Sunset fiercely.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SHE'S REAL?"
>>"One, you sort of cut me off. Two, it was amusing watching you grope her like that."
>Sunset quickly made an addendum to her second point.
>>"WAS amusing. It got creepy when you straight up grabbed her boobs, though."
"You're the worst friend ever, Sunny."
>Sunset shrugged, clearly unapologetic.
 
>Twilight turned towards the pale-blue figure, then opened her mouth to speak.
>Nothing useful came out, so she closed it again.
>Trixie gave Twilight the gentlest gaze she could manage, given the circumstances.
>A faint smile graced her pale blue lips.
 
>>"If I may help you out for a moment -- An apology might be a good place to start, Miss Sparkle."
>Twilight mentally slapped herself on the same cheek where Trixie had moments ago, cursing her social awkwardness.
>What a way to reunite with an ex-lover.
"H-hello Trixie. What an awkward time to run into each other, right? Heh heh..."
>Trixie kept up the faint smile, waiting.
 
>Twilight sighed.
"I'm.. sorry about the rude comment. And for poking around. I wasn't quite sure what to believe."
>Twilight bit her lip, rubbing her arm with a free hand.
"I-I guess I just can't stop screwing things up with you around."
>Trixie reached over at Twilight, giving her a gentle squeeze.
>>"Apology accepted, Sparkle. Let's just blame it on the predicament we're in now. Being thrown head-first into hyperspace can be a little... jarring."
 
 
>Twilight smiled up at her.
"I... Thanks, Trixie. What are you doing here, anyway?"
>Trixie nudges her head towards the mischievous firebird.
>>"Well... Miss Shimmer gave me this thing few weeks ago."
 
>She pulled out a small, black rectangular device. About the size of a matchbox.
 
>>"She insisted that I take it with me wherever I went. It was a strange request for sure."
>The device blinked silently, almost like a fire alarm low on battery.
 
>>"I was at my office when this thing begin to glow. I mean, REALLY glow. It coughed up this massive ball of light, and then--"
>Trixie gestured at the empty building around her.
>>"--I was here, and you two were having a conversation."
>Sunset smirked.
>>"Well, less of a conversation and more of an angst on Twi's part."
"I will steal your weed and flush it down the toilet."
>>"See? Edgier than a teenager."
 
>Trixie... giggled in response. Twilight found that more endearing than it should.
>>"Well, anyway."
"Yeah, anyway."
>>"So... we're here. It's good to see you again, Miss Sparkle."
"Y-you too."
>An awkward silence fell between the two.
 
 
>Sunset interjected, trying to break the ice.
>>"Uh, we've got dank ganja, Trixie. If you and Twi are done being weirded out by hyperspace, we could blazeit until we arrive."
>Twilight cringed, wrinkling up her face with a grimace.
>For as long as she's known Trixie, she had been an embodiment of self-control and discipline. She was the last person in the world to indulge herself in substances.
 
"Sunny, I don't think Trixie is the type to smoke mariju--"
>The pale blue disciplinarian's eyes lit up with excitement.
>>"OOH, are they from California, Miss Shimmer? I *LOVE* Californian weed."
>Twilight's jaws dropped.
>People do, in fact, change with time. Exhibit one.
"Eh, fuck it. Hit me up too, Shimmy."
 
- - - - - -
 
>Somewhere, far away from the drug-fueled debauchery, a severely dressed figure quietly observed a glowing electric-blue hole in the spacetime continuum.
>His equally shocking blue hair was combed haphazardly upward, as though raising a middle finger at whatever divine beings may be watching from above.
 
>The ceiling continued to shine with clinically white interior lights, despite the vulgar display of bad hair and lack of fashion sense.
 
>The offender cleared his throat, getting ready to speak.
>>"Computer!"
 
>A loud, digital beep echoed out in response.
>>"[Yes, Flash Sentry?]"
 
>>"How much longer until Shimmy and the fellas are here? Sitting out here in HST space is reeeeally cramping my style, baby."
>Brad -- or "Flash Sentry" as he insisted to be called by others -- twirled and played with the golden chain dangling loose from his ornate monocle.
>He had no vision problems, but monocles were *incredibly* fashionable in his opinion.
 
 
>>"[For the twenty eighth time, Flash Sentry, this could take up to an hour.]"
>Brad uncorked a bottle of very inexpensive wine and poured a gratuitous amount into a type of plastic cup one would expect to drink orange juice out of in the morning.
>He took an inappropriately lengthy pull of the substance.
>>"[Flash Sentry, may I advise you on the degeneracy pertaining to the repeated alcohol consumption before the hour of--]""
>>"--Don't get plastered before lunch time, blah blah. You're not my mother."
>Brad poured himself another glass of not-so-grape-juice into the same cup he drank milk out of minutes before.
>>"It's crunk o'clock somewhere in the multiverse, baby."
>He raised the plastic cup in the air as though toasting.
>Some of the purple liquid dripped down his arm, staining the sleeve of a very inexpensive dress shirt.
 
>The computer gave its very best imitation of frustrated sigh at the already-drunk captain.
>Brad paid no mind to the opinions of the incredibly complex artificial intelligence.
>>"[At least try not to spill the thing all over the console, please.]"
 
>>"You, sir, are a mother fuggen' buzz kill! Just relaaax, kid. I have perfect control over--"
>Brad stumbled, spilling a substantial amount of the purple stuff on the console.
>>"[Yes, perfect control. Of course.]"
>>"I meant to do that."
 
 
>Brad began patting down the console with a handful of napkins.
>>"[That's not the console you spilled on.]"
>Brad began patting down the other console with a handful of napkins.
>Or rather, banging at the keyboard with a handful of napkins.
 
>The main viewscreen went wild as random keys and commands were being hammered in.
>>"[Flash Sentry, could you stop--]"
>Random news networks. 24/7 porn channels. Girl horse cartoons. Music video stations.
>Brad continued to bang at the keyboard like an ape.
 
>An unexpectedly classy tune began to pour out of the speakers.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoPL7BExSQU
>That finally got the severely dressed ape to stop taking his frustrations out on inanimate objects.
 
>Brad tossed the bundle of napkins, and unholstered his vicious-looking plasma pistol.
>He precariously stuck the business-end of the weapon to his mouth.
>He began writhing to and fro the bridge of the ship, fingers twirling and tapping around the barrel.
 
>>"[Air trumpet, with THAT thing? Have you lost your mind?]"
>>"Don't hate the player, hate the instrument!"
>>"[I hope you accidentally discharge your weapon, Brad.]"
>>"You're killing my buzz, kid! Let me just *burp* toot my horn for a bit."
 
>Brad trips on his slippers mid-solo, almost pulling the trigger.
 
-
 
>Brad wasn't always like this. At least, that's what he used to tell himself.
>He also referred to himself in third-person from time to time.
>It made him feel special.
>He had been a promising Sapphire Savior -- aced all the assessments, passed evaluations with praises.
>Somehow got recommended as a Flash Sentry candidate by the man himself. That was really exciting.
>Hell, even got to meet Trump on one of her 'Build the Wall' campaign tours.
 
>'The very embodiment of HST values and what Twilights stand for,' she had raved on-stage.
>'So strong and hard and oh god rut me now,' she had continued at the backstage.
 
>Awkward bumps (and sometimes dry-humps) aside, life used to be amazing for Brad. He had proverbially "figured out" the purpose of life.
>Honor, service, recognition. Power. Political intrigue, backstabs.
>The latter came in a particularly bitter lesson when the current acting Flash Sentry got himself involved in a scandal with outside agencies.
>THE Flash Sentry working with a Union of Special Starlight Rights agent? Sharing critical research data, nonetheless?
>It was a truly massive scandal.
>So massive that it nullified Brad's social and political standing overnight.
>No sane politician wanted to be *that* guy who dared associate themselves with Flash Sentry's protege.
>When the political leverage packed up and left, disenfranchisement moved in. He began drinking heavily.
>The great and powerful Bradley was soon driven to th--
 
-
 
>>"--llo? Brad?"
>>"...I don't think he's heard you, Miss Shimmer."
>>"Yeah, he tends to bury himself in internal monologues sometimes. Pretty narcissistic, if you ask me."
"I think he just blinked!"
>>"That's a regular bodily function, Twilight."
"Christ, Sunny. I'm just trying to help."
>>"Well, being dumb doesn't help anybody."
 
>Sunset slapped Brad in the face a couple of times.
>>"Hey. Heeeeeey. Wake up. Come on come on come on come on."
>Brad groaned.
>Another series of slaps.
>Brad lurched physically, finally brought out of his drunken self-pity.
>>"Wh-wha--"
 
>Sunset forcibly pulled Brad back up on his feet. He began mumbling.
>>"I'm hungover and I don't wanna hear about the latter day alicorns, please go away."
 
 
>Sunset bombarded Brad with rapid-fire words, unperturbed.
>>"Hi, it's Sunny. Good to see you, it's been a while, and thanks for responding to my emergency beacon."
>>"Jesus H. Crystal Empire, Shimmy. Would you slow down--"
>>"This is Trixie, this is Twilight. They used to fuck. Say hi. Hello. We've got a problem--"
"Hell YES we do. Why would you even say THAT to a damn stranger??"
>>"Well, you guys *did* fuck quite a bit. And I've known Brad for a long time. But that's irrelevant. We've got bad guys on our tail."
 
>>"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID, MISS SHIMMER."
>Trixie scrunched up her face, clearly satisfied with herself.
>Twilight raised an eyebrow.
"...What the hell did you do to my girlfriend?"
>>"Ex-girlfriend."
"Okay. FINE. What did you do to my ex-girlfriend?"
>>"She got high in hyperspace. Unusually diminished social graces. Temporary side effect."
"*I* don't feel any different."
>>"You've had no social graces to begin with, Miss Sparkle."
"HEY."
 
>A loud explosion and metallic creaks echoed throughout the ship.
>>"Yeah, okay. Maybe later. Brad, we need to get out of here, NOW. We're being breached by bad guys."
>Brad buried his face in his hands, still holding a loaded plasma pistol.
>>"Can I just sober up for a second? I was in the middle of a trumpet solo."
 
 
>>"OoOoOoOo, trumpet. I personally prefer mellophones, but I can see the attraction."
>All eyes were fixed on the light turquoisish girl with short, purple hair.
>She carried a vicious looking rifle in her arms, her frail figure contrasting sharply with the well-practiced and expert stance.
>Behind her stood four more awkwardly colored girls, all carrying equally vicious weapons of various types.
 
>Sunset growled under her breath.
>>"Fucking pirates."
>The turquoisish girl responded, seemingly taking on the role of the group leader.
>>"We're not just pirates, dearie. We're so, so, so much better than that unwashed proletariat lot."
>She smirked, stroking her knife-edge hair for emphasis.
 
>>"Oh, pardon my manners. I forgot to introduce oureselves."
>This time, the rest of the armed group smirked in unison.
>It was all incredibly over-the-top and thespian.
 
>>"My name is Sunny Flare. And we're the Shadowbolts."