The Return

by Ace of Haze

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Comedy, Adventure
Length: 1171

In a violent turn of events, the Frozen North Colonials have turned violent towards the Equestrian frontier. In an unprecedented move by the Equestrian Naval Admiralty, two retired war colts are called back into service for the county they love.

In the not very distant future, an intuitive young mind the idea to create a light bulb, and thus made the airship a much more powerful machine. This technical advancement, along with Manny others, eventually creates an ignorance of what magic really is as everyone becomes lazy and those who are not, resign to the fact that they can't remember what magic was used for. The ones who fall into superstition migrate away from the lands of Equestria, among those, the biggest splinter of Equestrians go up north beyond the Crystal Mountains. As the colonialists try to settle in in the mountains, hoping to survive the winter in order to continue down the Montanan range to see what lies beyond. The nomads finally settle into the mountain, carving towns and eventually small cities out of the rock. The ponies and pegisi that forge their new home now find that farming is a grim prospect up in the north, and on such steep terrain, dangerous. In a violent, but not unprecedented turn of events, the Frozen North Colonials have turn violent towards the Equestrian frontier as they raid and pillage all that they can find. Celestia's agents place the erratic colonial behavior as being instigated by a strange criminal. In an unprecedented move by the Equestrian Naval Admiralty, two retired war colts are called back into service for the Nation they love. They are, however, slow, and tired, and somewhat unprepared for they task at hand. They are tasked the duty of arresting the pirate, and bringing him to Canterlot to stand trial.
On their own.
Somepony didn't want trade negotiations to take place between the colonials and Canterlot. The Admiralty smell a conspiracy, and Admiral NorthernHaste and Captain Slighthoof are flying blind.

The following is only an excerpt from the fic. Give feedback and tell me what you think.

Published 2013-08-12 04:30:04 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-12 04:30:04 UTC

Snipit

Haste awoke with a hell of a headache. The open window was to far from the bed to close without getting up, and that wasn't going to happen. No. Not after last night. The breeze coming in was intrusively chilly, and it wasn't light.

The hell happened last night? Wondered a severely hangover Haste.

Surely there wasn't beer involved... was there? He took his hoof and rubbed his temples in an effort to silence the angry bees in his head.

Shit.

There was alcohol involved, and it wasn't the good stuff either. Probably that cheep crap.

The stuff that only came in a can.

"Ahhh..." Moaned Haste loudly. He tried to get his head off the pillow, but to no avail. He was not moving anywhere.

Haste lay on his bed, listening to the breeze disturb the papers in his room. He watched the ceiling as light danced above as the wind flew the curtain over the open window all about. Somewhere in the building, a classical record was playing, and it was audible through the walls or ceilings, from wherever the record player resided.

It sounded sad, but, in a good way. As if, perhaps, the pianist himself had just broken up with a lifelong friend, whom, though apparent to him, was never going to fall for him. Not in the way he had fallen for her. No. It was hopeless, and he would lie awake at night, wondering 'if.' If this, or if that. Countless nights. Sleepless nights. It would take years before he finally had to give up the chase, for it was finally over.

But that's not were the song ends, no no. Though the chase was over, and the pianist feels lament over his lost love, he feels no need to consult his only friends at the bar he frequented. Of course he could never keep friends long anyway, they always were empty by the end of the night. Each night.

No. That part of his life was over now. He could move on. Do better things. Make friends that wernt made of glass, start working harder to get a better job, maybe even find real love.

His original love may be gone, but the best is just ahead.

Haste liked to think this is what the song was about anyhow. He was a hopeless romantic at heart.

Or just hopeless. Slighthoof would testify to both being the case. He never really cared for 'art.' It was always to vague, or it was never easy enough to understand for him. Haste only thought he understood art, but really, he didn't.

Haste frowned as he lay in his bed, now wide awake, but still with a head splinting headache that was bound to have been some consequence from the night before.

Haste paused. Was there beer involved last night? He tried to remember, putting as many pieces of memory together in order to answer his own query.

Lets see, he said to himself, I remember the reinstatement ceremony. There was the council meeting Slighthoof and I attended... that was boring.

Hmmm... after that... there was Jim's Pu-

Shit. There was beer involved.

And that wasn't the worst of it. The beer from Jim's Pub down on Mustang St. is horrible. So bad in fact, that only a depressed or extremely happy state could bring Haste to such a sees-pool of bad taste, below par service, and tacky food.

Haste moaned again. Why had he done that?

Haste was silent yet again. The breeze had almost stopped, which was good. He wanted to get more sleep. He thought he might have a hangover, but he couldn't remember if he had beer last-

Haste cursed under his breath again. He had to stop drinking alcohol. Time to swear it off and go cold turkey he thought. It was high time he stopped one vice and replaced it with another. Time to start drinking his coffee black again.

Ooh.. coffee... that's what He needed right now. He slid his head over to the left side of the bed and tired to find a coffee maker in the room. He was in a medium sized, fully furnished, and very messy apartment.

Hate frowned. He didn't own an apartment. Nor did he know anyone who had one either. Weird he thought. Still, he looked on for the- Ahha! There it is! Oh... boy. It's on the stupid counter over there.

Haste cursed again. He rolled over back into a comfortable position and decided he wasn't going to get up, because he didn't want to get up. He wasn't going to get up for nothing he decided resolutely. Why, I think I'll take the whole day off. I deserve it he thought. Yeah... I'm going to just stay in bed, and do nothing but-

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

Haste fell out of bed and hit his head on the night stand. He growled out another expletive.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" He yelled angrily, forgetting that telephones, a new innovation since he had secluded himself from society the year his wife passed away, only stopped their irrationally high pitched screeching after one had taken the receiver off the stand. It was all some ploy to get you to answer every single one of calls people gave to you on a daily basis. It was annoying, and Haste felt the inventor of this 'ringer' device should be pulled off the street, in front of a crowed, and thrown into the dirtiest, and most vile prison in all of Equestria. To make an example out of him of course.

However, Haste could still see the military application of this new invention. Ships could now be made bigger, and crews could talk to each other faster, and crews could be bigger. Bigger crews and bigger ships meant bigger and better guns, and better coordination with those guns.

All of which was a good thing.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

But right now,

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

This was the worst way to wake up from a hangover. Doesn't alcohol cause this sort of thing?

Haste picked up the phone in time to avoid the last ring. His eyes widened with horror with each word relayed to him form the Naval Barracks Telecommunication center.

Shit. He was late. This was no apartment, it was a hotel! One who's tab was owned by the Equestrian Navy. Quite the way to give an old war colt a welcome back. It was a very nice room, or, rather, it had been a very nice room.

As he got dressed, and got his coffee ready, he started to remember what it was that had happened last night in this very room. He looked at the lamp shade with disgust. Had he really... yep. He did. There was the stain on the ceiling. He shook his head in disbelief.

He got his keys, and his coat, his coffee mug, and umbrella, and left the room before he remembered anything else from last night.

But yes, alcohol was involved.

Fin