The Lunar Rangers
Prologue
* * *
He had always been good with finding things. Even with navigation, he was a whiz.
Toys, keys, shoes, the separate set of wheels to his father's cart. If anything were lost or missing, he could find it. Even things he saw on a map, he could only glance at it ONCE and he could easily find it.
All on an instinct, his father would say. As if he's following a map towards the X, his mother would say. A prodigy, his grandfather had said.
To him, he was nothing special.
He was just a small colt, smaller than most colts his own age now . . . He was a blotched colt, almost like a calico cat. He was a Trottingham colt who was not savvy enough for the 'mean streets' of Ponyville. In fact, he still needed a foal seat in his father's cart whenever the four of them would go anywhere.
It hurt a lot on the inside. He could never find where, but it hurt somewhere.
Whenever he wasn't finding things on maps, or things he'd lost and forgot about, he was always gazing at the moon, the item in control of his most favorite royal, and dearest friend, Princess Luna.
He would gaze up and remember the first Nightmare Night he'd ever spent in Ponyville, the fun he had, the treats he ate, the very first few friends he'd made, and the few friends he'd kept since then.
Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle, and the one and only, Princess Luna.
He would send letters to his friendly Princess, sending the occasional chocolate and toys, and in turn, she would send him special letters of how things in Canterlot were. She sent him small stories rescribed onto the letters in multiple pages, small toys from days of yore, and special candies that one could only find in Canterlot.
Of course she was always away, but she would promise to respond in every letter and come back for his second Nightmare Night.
He was awaiting that day, but until then, he was stuck within the walls of his own room . . . currently begging the moon to stay up in the sky, to keep the sunlight away . . . be night, for just a bit longer . . .
" C-Come on . . . " he murmured, shuffling his hooves between the glass panes and his chest. " J-just a little . . . while longer . . . "
Pipsqueak moved his hooves from the window and shook his head swiftly. He had to stay awake, he HAD to . . . he had to be sick for tomorrow, he just HAD to be . . . it was tomorrow he was dreading, tomorrow he was not wishing for!
" I-I c-can't do it . . . " he murmured, slowly nodding off on the window panes. He felt himself fall deeper into his plush bed of linen and cotton blends. " I-I can't go tomorrow . . . my mum may make me, but I can't go . . ."
He turned towards a clock on the wall, squinting to the hands.
1:42 a.m.
It seemed tomorrow had come, and already he was hating it . . .
School.
Public school, no less.
He'd always been home-schooled since he was a young boy, but his mother decided, almost out of the blue Equestrian skies, that he, Pipsqueak, the smallest and youngest of all ponies, would go to public school with other fillies and colts.
He'd begun dreading the names, the teasing, the scares he'd endure . . . or at least the things he'd thought were to come after reading a few of those comics in the front of the Barnard Bargains' counters.
" I can't go, Luna . . . " he fell back beneath the panes. " I just . . . can't . . . "
He fell into his sheets, yawning. He wished for ponies who would befriend him as he rested his head on his downy pillow. What good was wishing on the moon, he suddenly thought. Luna can't make anything happen . . . sadly . . .
He yawned once more, feeling the world around him fade.
The ponies may not be so bad, he suddenly thought. They may be like Luna: scary on the outside, but fun on the inside . . . he felt his body relax and he felt sleep pull covers over him.
As he drifted off, he wished for friends, for ponies who would play with him, talk to him . . . want to be together in any weather . . . for ponies who wanted to know him as something other than what he . . .was . . . that other ponies didn't know him as . . . just . . . pipsqueak . . .
***
" Alright, now this article's MUCH better!"
A young pony sat behind a desk, smiling wide as he reread notes placed firmly on his desk. Keeping in time with his voice was the click-clack-clicks of typewriters, the smell of ink emanating every nose in the room.
The boy was a medium tan, or off-white, in color, with a low buzz-cut brown mane and tail. Small strikes of hair flew up in the back of his head. His wide brown eyes scanned the notes before him another time, as his somewhat massive head bobbed up and down. He set the quill down and then moved from the notes to the pictures.
What to say, what to say, what to say about a story this . . . this . . . perfect!
" Much better than last week's!" he said. The grin on his face was priceless, and he had a near twinkle in the center of his misshapen teeth. " I think more ponies will read this story than the one about Mayor Mare's new plans for the roof of Town Hall!"
" Awesome!" the filly before him trotted excitedly. " SO, what now?"
" Go out and find some more news," he said. Feather was really feeling his heart flutter with excitement. " This story about half of the Apples' bumper crop being swiped by Fruit Bats is sure to win us more readers than we've had in the past fortnight!"
The filly raised a hoof in a salute, but stopped herself.
" Wait, what's a fort-night?"
Featherweight laughed and said," Never mind, just go back out there and get some more awesome news stories!"
The filly ran out, nodding. " I won't let you down!"
" I know you never will!" he called back, waving one of his lanky forelegs.
He appear did more lanky and lean than other fillies and colts, sure, but what he lacked in stamina, he made up for in brains. Featherweight had always known this, of course, but he let his talent write for itself. He also let his 'big brain' in his 'big head' think up what he wrote.
It was his life at this point.
He turned back towards a somewhat homely colt who was typing away on a typewriter a mere five to seven hooves away. He stopped typing and squinted at the paper, looking like he was re-reading a few lines at the top. The paper itself looked darker than others, or at least more ocher in coloring.
A mug of steaming hot cocoa was nearby.
A good writer, Feather knew, but he was always eating or drinking something on the job. Such was everything in his life, such was Truffle Shuffle's cutie mark of a fork and knife.
'Another rhyme', he thought, 'gotta write it down before it's gone.'
" Truffle, did you finish that story on the school house's new class additions?" he asked, now writing on another paper." It's headed for the next edition."
" A-almost . . . I think I misspelled a few words here . . . "
" Always the editor, eh Truffle?" he smirked.
" Always am, always will be!" he smirked. " That, and, I-I-uh . . . w-well . . . I kind of . . . " he shivered lightly.
Featherweight blinked as his smile slightly faded. It reappeared with a small amount of vigor as he sighed, stating matter-of-factually," You spilled some hot cocoa on the manuscript again, didn't you?"
" Yes . . . "
FW sighed and shook his head lightly. " Get a new sheet and retype what you can read. It's a common mishap."
Truffle Shuffle jumped down and trotted across the room, saying," Thanks!"
Satisfied, the lanky colt lowered himself to the floor, then began to hover above it, nearly flying towards the door. He turned his attention to a magenta colored filly, typing at a quick pace and steady hoof. She was a unicorn, and from what he had heard, was sturdy with her magic as she was with her hooves.
She didn't possess a cutie mark, and yet she continued to type out the best stories he'd every read, aside from the occasional Adventures of Daring Do. She's a talent, he always knew, a genuine talent.
" Berry Pinch," he smiled," Get started on the story on my desk, tout suite. Notes are underneath the photographs, and each is cite referenced within the notes," he said gently." If there's questions, you know where to find me on the grounds."
" Right away, Featherweight, sir!" Berry saluted, giggling.
" Good," he said, still smiling. " If there's any pony I can trust with writing this piece, it's you!"
" U-uh . . . what about me?" Truffle asked, looking just as puzzled as always.
Featherweight snickered and said, tapping his asymmetrical teeth, " Of course, she'll also have you as excellent editorial help, Truffle Shuffle."
" Thanks, Featherweight, sir!" they cheerfully squealed in tandem
" Uh . . . J-Just Featherweight's alright," he smiled.
" Oh . . . okay then," she said, then went right back to typing.
" I kind of like calling you sir," Truffle said, pointing towards Feather. " Makes me feel like we're at a business, or something like that."
Featherweight tapped his teeth again . . . Sir Featherweight? Big Boss Feather? The head of an enhanced writers' corporation . . . a novelist . . . There were many possibilities for names, and even the 'imaginary ' career possibilities were endless . . . so it seems . . . perhaps if he scribbled them down on a scratch sheet of paper, selected the best using a poll amongst the student body . . . used it in the next edition of the Foal Free Press . . .
" Uh, Featherweight? You there?" Berry asked.
He shook his head swiftly and turned back to the filly, blinking wildly.
" Did I space out again?" he asked.
" You did," she giggled.
" H-huh . . . right . . . well, may Lady Luck be with me today . . . " he began to say, placing a hoof over his chest, another on the door handle. " And, as I stroll hoof in hoof with her, I shall finally set forth, and declare my heart's feelings to the one I most adore!"
Silence.
Berry and Truffle blinked at him as Featherweight felt himself turn a deep shade of red. He coughed and laughed nervously before he bolted out of the door.
The two looked at each other before they looked ready to burst out laughing.
" He's gonna try doing that again?" Truffle snickered, nearly skipping a word.
" Y-yep . . . he's gonna try to talk to Dinky Doo," Berry giggled lightly. " Last time the poor colt tried, he lost his footing and chipped his tooth."
The both sighed and said in tandem," I wish him the best . . . "
Typing for a few moments.
" Think he'll let me get more hot cocoa in here if I bring him some tomorrow?"
" Worth a shot!"
On the other side of the door, the pegasus colt was already feeling his heart beat like a drum, his legs quiver like toothpicks and snap under the pressure, his head pound as if it were in the throws of a massive thunderstorm.
He gulped and began to move, albeit like a baby deer, towards the exit. He gulped and reached towards the door handle of what always had appeared to be a cellar door.
If some pony were here right now listening to him say this . . . would it qualify as treason? Oh let no pony hear him!
" I-In the name of Luna . . . give me luck . . . "
***
BAM!
CRASH!
" HOLD it right there!"
Two ponies, one taller and skinnier than the other, in stripes and black hats, were holding sacks and wearing black masks over their muzzles. The ponies and creatures within the building froze, almost as if someone had pressed the pause button on a tape recorder.
All sounded halted as the taller one walked in.
" This is a robbery!" the smaller one yelled, then ran in. He pulled his sack open first and started going along a long line of ponies, stating firmly," Stick all o' the bits in the bags, and NO pony gets hoit . . . capiche?!"
The taller pony walked to the counters in front of the lines, as the ponies behind shivered and got out smaller sacks of bits. Some pony screamed, running for the exit.
" NO pony leaves, either!" they said, bucking the pony back.
" Oh no!" a green pony yelped. She looked like she had a press badge, and was already shaking as much as every other pony. But just from biting her lip and staring at the cameras, she seemed . . . experienced . . .
The pony who tried to book it, now sobbing on the ground, squealed," Where's a hero when we need one?!"
" No where you need to be right now, sweethea't," the smaller pony laughed. " Get back to tha countahs! We're almost done cleanin' house!"
Such an awful sight, such awful ponies . . . where WAS a hero-
" Stay RIGHT where you are, ne'er do wells!"
A red masked pony was standing in the crashed down wall, smirking as the sun glistened off of his suit. His boots, pointed and slick, were already marching in with the pony in swift tow. His spiked mane and tail moved elegantly with his body, almost showing minds of their own.
The two striped robbers, now near the first of the desks, gasped.
" Oh no . . . " the taller pony gasped.
" It-it can't be!" the smaller one shivered.
" But it is!" the green pony from the press laughed.
They yelled the next thing in tandem:
" SUPERPONY!"
Before the ponies knew anything else, a loud WHAM! echoed! Superpony had his hoof up high, already jumping up, as the taller of the crooks now laid sprawling on the floor. The smaller of the crooks ran back, aiming to headbutt the being, but THWACK! Superpony's back hoof kicked him right square in the gut!
" Alright, Superpony!" the green-haired mare laughed. " Come on, everypony, let's get out of here!"
Before any pony knew it, ponies were screaming and fleeing the building through the hole in the wall. The mare nodded back to Superpony, who was already lifting the two crooks up by the mere scruffs of their shirts.
" Thank you, Green Alert!" he yelled. He gazed back to the two, saying," Now, to show you two . . . " He started to blast his body forward, almost flying at a breakneck speed! " The bank of Morality!"
He crashed through the doors with a mighty SWATCH! and threw the two crooks into a precariously placed police cart. He levitated above the streets as the ponies below were shouting, screaming, and giving out words of thanks and praise. His cape flowed behind him, looking like it was a part of his mane and tail.
" SUPER-PONY!" the crowd chanted. " SUPER-PONY! SUPER-PONY-"
" - saves the day again!"
The loud laugh came from a jumping colt, laughing on dark blue sheets and tumbling onto the white fluffy pillow behind him. His own dark blue mane and tail weren't very brushed, but after the day HE'D had, it was a task he'd rather forget about.
His pale blue coat was already uneven as he kept turning back, reading more pages of the comic. Every word, every sentence was all about Superpony, the hero of heroes, the best of the best!
" Those bozos of crooks never saw that coming!" he swung a hoof in the air, yelling," WHOOSH! One went down! And BAM!" he kicked the air with a back leg. " The other baddie took a header into tile floors!"
The comic book, 'Superpony' Issue Fifteen, fell flat on the floor. He blinked and reached back down, grabbing the comic and bringing it back up.
" Oopsie daisy!" he laughed.
He flipped the pages back open with stars in his eyes. He lifted his hoof as he said dramatically," Dear civilians, I am Always . . . always here for you! Believe me, believe me . . ." he bent down again, rereading the line, then recited, " Uh . . . OH! Believe me, I will always be there when you call for me!"
He covered his mouth as he chuckled, then biting his lips. He flipped the page, seeing a box where Green Alert was near Superpony, they were both really, really close, and they were-
" Eww . . . " he shivered. " He's a superhero! Don't kiss her! Give me a break!" he said, flipping the page immediately.
As he flipped through more pages, the colt began to imagine himself as a hero . . . what would his name be? Archer the . . . the . . . Pony? No, that wouldn't work . . . what about Archer the Blue Ranger?
He shook his head and murmured," I think that's already taken, or something . . . "
Archer sighed as he closed the comic book, seeing the usual ads on the back for more issues, the small ad for Sugarcube Corner now doing parties, or Sweet Apple Acres Cider Season.
He knew about all of that already. He'd read this issue at least thirteen times already, and this one was back when comics had the stiple effect on the costumes, back when Superpony's costume wasn't too angled and too intended for his elder brother.
Archer picked up the comic and walked back to a bookshelf, loaded with sleeved comics and anthology books, brimming with perfection and tags of a myriad of numbers at the top. He placed the comic between the respected numbers and smiled up at the top of the shelves.
" Superpony is so cool . . . "
Superpony figures were posed on the top of the bookshelf, nary a spec of dust in sight. A figure of Green Alert was posed on top of a makeshift building, with a Superpony standing in the street below. Archer's hoof picked up a Superpony wearing a much different costume, looking like he was on fire.
" Now if only that issue had the Flames of Friendship costume . . . " he murmured, setting it back down near the other Superpony.
Other pony heroes were posed throughout, but the ones that caught the most attention of the young Archer was the one, the only, the best . . . Super-pony!
Archer gazed back around his room, smiling. Everything was in its perfect place, and in the same places he knew Superpony had them in, aside from the paraphernalia: Superpony poster above his bed, sighed by a Superpony, his comics and figurines, and even a Superpony bean bag in the corner covered with Superpony socks.
Luna help him if his mother comes in to see that sight . . . Superpony's strength would be needed to hold her back then . . . she was already mad about the mess at school today, she didn't need to be mad about THIS mess . . .
Archer yawned and jumped up, somersaulted, and landed with a PLOP! on his back, on his sheets again. He sighed, looking up.
The original Superpony was posed with a hoof outstretched, begging, begging, begging the blue colt of perfection and hitting things on the nose to just COME with him . . . help him save this world . . .
He reached up with a wide smile and swatted the imaginary hoof.
" So cool . . . Superpony . . . "
He gave a warm smile and felt himself fall back on the bed.
" Someday . . . " he smiled, patting the bed," Someday . . . I'm gonna be just like Superpony . . . I'm gonna be a superhero, I'm gonna have a legion of heroes, and we're gonna save all of Equestria!"
Author's Note
I only own the plot-line here, so I do not own MLP:FiM, nor do I own the characters of Feather Weight or Pipsqueak, although I do own Archer Arrow's morphed character from the MLP character 'Archer'.
I only own my version of Archer, so, I suppose I've reached an impasse of disclaimers.
