Aces' Diary

Chapter 5: Gettin’ Dressed

In the dark ward, where silence reigned the atmosphere, the two injured patients rested peacefully on their beds. The moonlight radiated through the windows, bathing the room in soft blue glow. The soft breathing of the two creatures was the only noise in the quiet room.

Gerhard’s eyes shot open. He slowly rose up, sitting on the white bed, sweating bullets. He tried to massage his temples, but he realized one of his arms was in a cast; so he used the other one instead.

He took stock of his injured body. Probably, most of his body was traumatized by those wolves. His right arm was broken, along with one of his legs, which was broken from his belly-out. His uniform was ripped by Tommy; luckily Tom was a doctor before the war. There were probably more wounds beneath his jacket, but he couldn’t see them.

That dream was too real, he thought, wiping his sweat with his cast-free arm and looked around. A roommate? It’s probably better than being alone.

The roommate buried itself under the blanket. It must have been a pony, judging from the size. The pony snored loudly, blanket shifting up and down along with the breathing.

The blanket moved away slightly, revealing his roommate’s face. She was a mare with a grey coat and long black mane, but it wasn't as long as Fluttershy’s. Her long, curly eyelashes stood gauntly on her eyelids.

Interesting… he thought, I should greet her in the morning. he glanced outside, checking the time.

The sun began to ascend into the sky, shining its warm rays into the room. The horizon turned to fiery orange tone as the sun rose up. The birds chirped happily outside, singing a soothing tune.

The first day’s light projected into the room, changing the blue glow of moonlight into golden tone of the sun. The ray hit his roommate’s face, waking her up from her slumber. Her eyes opened slowly; they were lavender purple, and as shiny as diamonds.

“Guten Morgen, Schätzchen,” Gerhard greeted, smiling and trying to look as friendly as possible.

She slowly pushed the blanket away, revealing a long neck brace wrapping around her neck and the cast all over her body, except her legs. She lay on her side, unable to move.

The moment she saw him; she froze for a moment and screamed. The scream wasn’t really loud because of the neck brace, but it was still high enough to make his ears ring. Gerhard lifted his cast-free arm, gesturing for her to stop frantically, but she didn’t.

“FRÄULEIN!” he shouted. “Stop screaming!” Gerhard commanded grumpily.

“AHHHHHHHHHHahhhhhhhhhh……ahh?” Her scream slowly faded away, like she didn’t even know why she was even screaming in the first place. “What are you ‘foul ape’ doing doing here in the hospital?!” she exclaimed hoarsely. “And HOW can you TALK!”

“Firstly, liebes Fräulein. I’m not a ‘foul ape’, I am a human,” Gerhard explained. “Two, I was taught, just like ordinary parents do to their kind.”

“Why are you here in the hospital? If I may ask," she asked. Gerhard deadpanned and gestured to his casting.

“Oh,” she exclaimed surprisingly. “Sorry for that, mister…”

“Barkhorn,” said Gerhard. “Leutnant Gerhard Barkhorn, ace of Jagdgeschwader 52, Luftwaffe,” he added. “But you can call me Gerd.”

“As you wish, Gerd,” she replied, smiling. However, his German confused her greatly. “My name is Octavia. Pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hoof to shake his uninjured hand.

“So, how did you ended up hier, Fräulein Octavia?” asked Gerhard.

“About a week ago, my roommate Vinyl Scratch happened to be testing her ‘Bass Cannon’ in our house when I walked in,” said Octavia, in refined demeanor. “The force sent me flying into a tree, and here I am.”

“Bass Cannon?” Gerhard muttered idly; lost in his thought. That sounds surprisingly familiar… he thought.

Octavia cocked an eyebrow, wondering what was troubling him. “So,” Octavia said, snapping him back to attention, “what, pray tell, caused those?” she asked politely.

“I think I should start at the beginning,” said Gerhard. “Es ist a long story.” He looked at Octavia, waiting for her approval.

She shrugged. "Seems like time is something we have in abundance,” stated Octavia. “Please begin.” She made herself as comfortable as possible, waiting for his story as a little child waits for a bedtime story.

“Also gut,” exclaimed Gerhard, “Back in my Welt…”

*****

In the downtown of Ponyville, the residents started waking up in the morning of the new day. Local birds welcomed the new day with their occasional chirps. Morning dew dropped from the plants into the soil, giving them some moisture. The local merchants gathered in the square, setting up their stall.

A loud deafening snore echoed through the busy square, making the nearby ponies flatten their ears and grind their teeth. The snore seemed to come from a house nearby. The agonizing snore echoed through the street.

The snore came from the British Spitfire ace: Thomas McMurrow, still sleeping on the couch. He drooled on the armrest, covering half of it with his saliva.

The hostesses: Lyra and Bon Bon, descended down the staircase. They both looked absolutely tired. Thomas’ snoring had lasted all night long, preventing anypony else in the radius of one kilometre from getting any sleep. Lyra’s face brightened up as a devious idea came through her mind. She smirked devilishly, rubbing her front hooves together and grinned quietly.

Bon Bon glared at her curiously, but she shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

She carried out her evil plan immediately. She trotted outside, onward to one of the neighbouring houses. The neighbours seemed to be as tired as she was: dark sacks under their eyes and messy manes. As soon as she reached the destination, she knocked the door.

Several minutes passed before the door finally opened up, revealing a creamy white mare with a shaggy electric blue mane wearing a pair of violet shades.

“W..What’s up, Lyra?” she greeted tiredly, but beamed upon her guest. “Why so early in the morning? Did my wub made anyone sleepless?” she asked as she noticed the dark sacks under her eyes. Lyra slightly nodded. “I’m sure I casted a soundproof spell on this house. Did it go off or something?” Lyra shook her head at that statement.

“I’m here to ask you for help, Vinyl,” asked Lyra.

“I’m sorry, I’ll cast the spell aga—” Vinyl did a doubletake, “W-W-What?!”

“Your spell didn’t go off, Vinyl. But I have a guest; he was snoring all night long,” she smirked, “and I need payback.” Vinyl put a hoof on her chin, thinking.

“Hmm… Sure! What do you need?” said Vinyl.

“Something…loud,” Lyra leaned in and cocked her eyebrows repeatedly.

“Got it. Give me ten minutes,” she said and walked back inside her house.

*****

Back in Lyra and Bon Bon’s house, the sleepy ace finally stopped snoring and opened his eyes. He sprang up to his feet when he saw the saliva-coated couch.

“This is wee bit too much…” Thomas muttered anxiously.

The smell of breakfast came from the kitchen. Thomas was sure there was someone in there; might be Lyra, Bon Bon, or both. He walked to the door and pushed it open.

Bon Bon was serving blueberry flapjacks the moment he entered the room. She gave him a small greeting smile and carried the frying pan to the sink.

There were three stacks of flapjacks on the table. A stack consisted of five to seven flapjacks. The blueberries were mixed with the flour, topped with a bar of butter and blueberry jam.

They made his mouth water, some of it dripped from his mouth. Bon Bon glared at him with a pair of stink eyes. He wiped it with his sleeve and smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, miss Bon Bon,” he called. She stopped from washing the used pan and turned to him. “Can I borrow a rag o’ yours, please?” he asked. She arched her eyebrow curiously. “Errrr, the couch…” He smiled sheepishly.

She pointed at a rag on the hanging line and went back to washing. He grabbed it and exited the kitchen.

The saliva seemed to have seeped in the armrest already. He dashed to it and started wiping at the liquid. When he finished wiping, he heard a call from outside; sounded like Lyra.

“Tommy! come out here, I have something for you!” she shouted, clearly emphasizing a certain word.

“Coming!” he replied and grabbed the door handle.

Suddenly, he felt something wasn’t right.

Why did she emphasize that word? He wondered, releasing the handle quietly.

He snuck to the window carefully and peeked from around the corner like the time he spied on Gerhard.

Some sort of box was set on the street. The side that seemed to be the front faced the door. A creamy white pony with shaggy electric blue mane mounted on it, hoof over a big red button. Lyra was cowering behind her, covering her ears.

From his experience as an ace and a trained pilot, that thing was suppose to be some sort of cannon. He gave her the stink eyes and readied his Webley. He carefully drafted a plan in his head. Using only a few seconds to eliminate all the impossibility, a foolproof plan came up.

Kraut’s famous Blitzkrieg is perfect for the job.

For safety; he removed all the remaining bullets in his revolver and stashed them in his jacket with the rest of the ammunition. He planned to use the element of surprise to scare Lyra.

She will wee herself for sure! He chuckled and grabbed the door handle again, more firm than the previous time. Sweat began to cascade down his forehead through the gap between his eyes and nose. He tightened his grip on the door, preparing to barge out and charge.

But suddenly, his stomach growled angrily, and suddenly, food became more important, as he realized that he hadn't even had dinner yesterday. He'd have to see to that before dealing with this trap. In a single motion, he holstered his Webley, grabbed the towel Bon Bon had lent him, and bee-lined back into the kitchen.

“Where’s Lyra? She never misses breakfast,” asked Bon Bon, sitting at the table with the food, waiting for both human and her roommate.

“She’s outside with a white lass with shaggy blue mane, wearing a pair o’ violet shade,” he explained as he sat down. “Oh, and that white lass is mounting some kind of cannon.” Bon Bon put a hoof on her chin, thinking. “From that look o’ ye: y’ must know something.”

“The mare you mentioned is Vinyl Scratch, the local DJ, and that box you saw is the infamous ‘Bass Cannon’ that put her roommate into the hospital,” she explained before she leaned down and took a bite of a flapjack.

“She’s up to no good, then?” he asked. Bon Bon slightly nodded in confirmation. “I’ll go get her once I have some o’ this.” He was about to start devouring the food when he noticed that the essential wares were missing. He sighed boringly and stood up, “I’ll go get her.” The said mare walked in, wearing a deceptive look on her face.

“You’re late, Lyra…” scolded Bon Bon.

“…” The scolded mare glared daggers at him, scrunching her face in the progress. Thomas sat down as soon as he realized that his duty wasn’t needed anymore. The mint green mare did the same, still glaring at him. The human glared back uncomfortably, hoping for her to break the glare and eat.

“Errrr,” Bon Bon broke the silence, “the breakfast is getting cold, you two.” Lyra was the first to stop. She started levitating the flapjack into her mouth.

“… Do ye hav’ any silverware er' something like that?” he asked quietly, still feeling uncomfortable from being glared at earlier.

“Sure, we have it,” said Bon Bon, who then looked at Lyra. The said mare rolled her eyes and lit her horn up; the glow emitted from it was golden like her cutiemark. A fork and a knife flew from the cabinet into his grasp. He nodded appreciatively before putting them down on the table, his hands jointed together and close his eyes.

The two ponies looked at him curiously, but they stayed quiet. Sounds seemed to be missing from the room, except for his prayer.

After a moment, the prayer ended, and so the silence. Thomas’s mouth curved into a small smile, then grew into an ordinary smile. He picked the wares up and started eating. The two hostesses looked at each other, dumbfounded from the scene. He looked up at the two, still chewing the food. He swallowed, and said:

“It’s a prayer. We hav’ many o’ religions back in the chaotic ol’ world; tha’ was one o’ em’,” he explained and continued digging through the second flapjack. They nodded in understanding and started to eat their own food.

“I’ll need to write that down. Can you explain it after we finished breakfast?” asked Lyra, levitating a bit-size piece of flapjack up into her mouth. He responded with a nod and returned to his meal.

Five minutes later, they finished their breakfast. Thomas wiped his sauce-full mouth with a napkin provided by Bon Bon. Without anyone speaking, he stood up and asked:

“I think I should explore ye town. Do ye hav’ any map lying ‘round here?”

“Nope, don’t think so,” replied Bon Bon, shaking her head.

“But you can pay Wes Navigate, the map maker, a visit at his shop though!” exclaimed Lyra. Thomas jumped, surprised.

“Aye, and where’s his shop?” Thomas asked back, arching his brow. Lyra took a deep breath and braced herself.

“Right, right, left, left, right, left, right, right, left, straight on, left, left and right!” bombarded Lyra, sending spittle flying everywhere, including the British ace’s face. Picking the used napkin up, he buried his face into it.

With some spittle on her face, Bon Bon grimaced deeply and facehoofed. She sighed, and told Thomas the proper way. He thanked her with a nod, and walked out the front door. The sight in front of him made him cringe: Vinyl smashed the big red button, and the front plate of the cannon opened up.

With a swift move, he leapt outside, still, though, in the trajectory of the cannon. He rolled out of the path when the weapon fired upon him.

WUB WUB WUB WUBBITY WUB WUB

The deafening sound wave sliced through the air, shaking everything in its way, including the house he resided in. Noticing this, he took it that this cannon was non-lethal. So, he sprinted to the cannon, out-tracking it miserably.

“Ye are finished. Surrender an’ ye will b’ treated under the Geneva convention,” Thomas recited loudly, due to the deafening sound emitting from the cannon. He took out his empty revolver and pointed it at Vinyl. She looked at him, surprised and confused at the same time.

“Did you mean Hayneva convention?” she corrected him, shouting over the loud seemed-to-be-music noise.

“Aye, that!” he exclaimed,

Then, I surrender.” she stood on her hind legs and held her front hooves up high in the air, letting him know that she really surrendered over the loud noise in the background. “I’m all yours.” Then, she stood on all four again.

A smile crept on his face, he then gestured to the black boxy cannon and asked: “Turn this thing off, please.” She smiled, and smashed the huge shiny red button. The sound wave weakened to the point where there was no more sound. Front plate closing, the silence restored to the street.

With the peacefulness calming Thomas’s nerves, he noted that the street was decorated with replicas of bats and spiders. It was Halloween. He nearly forgot that, being in an alien world filled with bright coloured pony sure distracted him well.

Without any notice or warning, a pink blur dashed in. It was Pinkie Pie, jumping up and down before him.

“Tommy, Tommy! Are you ready for Nightmare Night? Do you have costume yet? What will you dress as tonight? How’s your POW? Is that Bass Cannon?! Why is it on the street? Oh, hi Vinyl! How are ya' doing…” bombarded Pinkie, drowning him in sea of questions and random shenanigan. Surprisingly, she was still talking. His jaw dropped in shock.

*****

“… Und das ist pretty much it,” Gerhard finished. Octavia hadn’t asked any questions during his storytelling; a really good listener.

Before she asked anything, the door flung open. A doctor entered with a nurse pushing a cart behind him. The doctor was a khaki brown stallion with shaggy brown mane, wearing a white coat like ordinary doctor. The nurse was a grey pegasus mare with blonde mane, her eyes crossed, wearing a nurse hat. The cart was filled with medical supplies and tools.

“Good morning, mister,” the doctor greeted happily. “I’m the doctor.”

“Doktor, wer?” Gerhard arched his eyebrows.

“Just the Doctor, please,” Doctor reached in his coat, picking out a metal rod with his mouth.

The metal rod looked like something out of the pulp sci-fi stories that he’d read when he was a kid, glowing and pulsing as it was waved over him. Then the doctor paused, looking at the rod as if reading something, frowned and had a quick whispered conversation with the nurse, that neither patient was able to overhear. Gerhard and Octavia looked at each other questioningly, but Octavia shrugged.

The grey nurse spoke up: “With this new medical method, all your injuries will heal by the afternoon!” she picked some sort of fruit from the cart and a syringe.

“Didn’t Doktor Scalpel say my case needs months?” asked Gerhard, arching his eyebrow at the Doctor.

“This will sting for just a moment.” The nurse then injected him with the syringe, completely ignored his question. “Now, eat this, hurry.” She tossed him the unusual fruit.

He stared at the fruit, wondering what would it taste. He took a bite. It was sour at first, but the sweetness replace it. After a couple of seconds, he suddenly felt dizzy. He fell back, lying on the bed. Darkness slowly crept on the corner of his eyes. His eyelids became heavier and heavier every second.

Finally, the darkness took over and drove him to sleep.