Life's Left Hook

Cadance opens the door, and as you look, you see Octavia standing over the still unconscious Trixie.

Octy notices the two of you gawking at her, and sighs.

"Nothing is getting her up for a while. I tried plugging her nose, tickling her hoofsies, and stroking her horn, but nothing is working. Anonymous, you can carry her, right?"

You look at Trixie, and shrug.

"...Mmm, I dunno. Her ass is fat."

"All the better reason to carry it along, then."

You grumble.

"Egh, fine. Just... Sop up that mess with a towel first, will you?"

Octavia shakes her head.

"I'll leave it to room service. We're out of towels."

"You have one on your damned head, Tavi. 'Sides, I just want you to clean her mouth so I don't have barf all over me by the time we make it to the station."

"...Right."

With that, she takes her towel off of her head.

Her mane was still pretty wet, but it seemed bearable.

To you, at least.

She starts cleaning up poor Trixie, and you get dressed again.

Once you're done slipping your clothes on, Cadance is done drying off and getting ready.

Soon, Trixie is mostly clean, spare a few smear spots here and there.

"It'll have to do," Octavia says, sighing. "This towel's saturated, and I'm not about to take off my second."

You grumble again, avoiding the wharf as you walk to Trixie.

"Fine."

With a grunt, you bend down, grab hold, and heave Trixie up onto your shoulder.

She was pretty heavy, but nothing you couldn't manage.

Her ass IS fat, though.

"So, we headed out now?"

"I was planning on having some breakfast," Cadance says.

"We're going to have to make it fast, then," Octy says, trotting towards the door. "We have some time on our hooves, but not much."

With that, the three of you make your way down to the lobby.

You meet the doctor and Scootaloo along the way.

They both look at you and Trixie as you walk in, and the doctor knowingly chuckles.

"Heheh, dude, she all right?" Scootaloo asks, looking at Trixie.

"She's... Well, probably not. She's out colder than Coldstone."

Scootaloo raises an eyebrow.

"Coldstone?"

You blink.

They didn't have Coldstone here?

"It's a kind of ice cream."

"...Does it, like, taste like rocks? 'Cause if it does than I need to talk to Pinkie!"

You shake your head, trying to contain the laughter building up inside of you.

"No, no, not a flavor. As in, it's a company. An ice cream company. Back where I lived."

"Oooooh. Do they have it here?"

"No."

"Aw. Okay."

You look over at Cadance.

It seems in the time it took you to explain ice cream to Scooters, she went and grabbed an apple.

"This should tide me over for the time being," she says, polishing it a bit on her chest's fur.

"So, are ve leaving? Now?" the doctor asks, getting out of her seat and raising an eyebrow.

Octavia nods. "I suppose. You don't want to miss a train ride."

You look at Scootaloo.

"Got your scooter?"

The filly looks a little confused for a moment, and then points a hoof at Octavia.

Surprised at being put on the spot so suddenly, the mare raises her eyebrows and turns to you.

"Oh, yes. That. Anonymous, do you remember when I told you that some crew members with the orchestra handled my cello, as well as some of my belongings?"

You nod.

"Yeah, when you almost gave me a heart attack.

She giggles a little, and nods.

"Yes, that. I managed to pay some of them a little extra, and now they're whole-heartedly handling all of our luggage."

You raise an eyebrow.

"You sure that's safe? They could steal something."

She nods.

"They could, but I doubt they will, concerning they're getting paid.

"But still!"

Octavia rolls her eyes.

"...Well, if anything DOES go missing, they know they'll have to reckon with the wrath of Mr. Anonymous. Something tells me that's enough to dissuade them."

You laugh a little, and Octavia turns around, ready to go.

"Let's go."

"Right behind you," you say, adjusting the slumbering Trixie on your shoulder

With that, the six of you make your way out of the lobby and out the doors of the hotel.

After Octavia glances at her atlas, you find the right way back to the station.

It isn't a terribly long walk, but your feet and back are still sore.

Trixie, as small as she may be, isn't light by any means.

...But, she does smell good.

And, with the way you have her slung over your shoulder, you have a perfect view of that perfect ass.

As hard as it was, you mustered your willpower and didn't do anything lewd to the poor mare in public.

You press on, and eventually, you arrive at the train station.

Boarding is no hassle; the ticketmaster not only recognizes you, but Octavia, prepared as always, forks over the tickets.

You're in the train and in your train car in a heartbeat.

No beds in this one; only seats and tables, it seems.

Well, concerning the ride wouldn't be nearly as long, that makes sense.

You set Trixie down on one of the benches, and wipe off some dribbled vomit off of your shoulder.

You look at the gelatinous goo on your hands, grimace, and wipe it off on your jeans before sitting down.

The rest of the mares find their seats.

Spare Scootaloo.

She's exploring the train car in a never ending bout of youthful curiosity.

You smile, watching her size up the room as if it were an opponent.

Finally, she comes to a grand conclusion.

"...Hey, Anon?"

"What?"

"I like trains."

You smile, and rest back a bit in your chair.

"They are nice."

As Scootaloo keeps exploring what little there is to explore, you decide that this train ride is best spent napping.

You lie down on the bench, stretching your back and legs before going limp.

It's a little too short for your whole body, but your legs dangle over the edge and you're somewhat comfortable.

You rest your head back, let out a sigh, and close your eyes.

Some time later, you awake to the sound of a train horn blaring.

Something bumps your shin, and you sit up.

It's Octavia.

"Get up, Anonymous. Trixie's still down for the count. I need your arms."

You scratch your neck and stretch your back, looking at her.

"...What, no 'good morning' or anything? Glad to know the shit I do is appreciated."

She just rolls her eyes, smiling.

"Okay, then, good morning, Anonymous. Even though it's far past morning. Now, please. Help me with Trixie."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you."

As she trots off to the end of the car, you stand up and move over to where Trixie is.

It takes a bit of gusto, but you manage to lift the unconscious beast onto your shoulder again.

...Wait, what was that sound?

Wait, OH SHI—

*WHARF*

You feel chunky vomit splatter all over your back, and you recoil in shock.

"AUGH, damnit!"

You look down, and see a puddle of brownish-green goop on the floor.

For the love of Celestia...

Cadance sighs behind you, and shakes her head.

"I'll tell them to get this mess cleaned up. I don't have a towel, so we're going to have to wait until we get to the hotel to sop that up.

You have to walk across the city with vomit on your back.

Why.

"Hahah! Dude, that sucks!"

You sigh, looking down.

Scootaloo's near your feet, looking at the puke.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Let's get going. I don't want to have this mess on me longer than I have to.

You make your way out of the train, and meet up outside.

Octavia glances at her atlas again, and nods.

"...Okay, so. I have about an hour or so until I have to be there. That gives us enough time to go to the hotel, check in, and faff about for some time. Or we can get something to eat."

"Where's the park?" you ask, craning your neck to try and get a view of the atlas.

Octavia looks herself, squinting a bit.

"'The park' is a broad term, but there are a few places you and Scootaloo might want to go. The fields for grazing around the hoofball arena might be one place, or perhaps you want to go to the outdoor playplace for the elementary school. ...Well, the elementary school that's closest to our hotel, that is; there are several in this city."

"Gotcha. Just... Mark it on there or something. I'll look at it later."

She nods, stuffing the atlas away.

"As you wish. But, let's head to the hotel."

"Quickly. Please. This puke is grossing me out."

Octavia gigglesnorts, nods, and starts trotting.

"Follow me."

The city is much like Marelin, in the aspect of architecture.

Except it seemed a bit more...

Rustic is a loose term for it.

Marelin wasn't as advanced as Equestria, and this place was even less so.

Not that that was a bad thing at all; everything was beautiful, the maps were easy to understand and read, and the whole city seems to have been planned out beforehand.

Cadance said something about Germaneigh being proud of its incredible efficiency, and even though you know jack shit about architecture or civil engineering or anything of the sort, you'd be inclined to agree.

Then again, after the confusing, complex, and winding web that is Canterlot, you may not have the best vantage point.

Anyway, after a rather long walk, you arrive at the hotel with sore feet.

Some of the goats snarl at the smell and sight as you walk by, covered in vomit.

Some even laugh.

You'd laugh too, if you weren't the victim.

After checking in and doing your best to ignore the snickering receptionist, you make it to your room.

The first thing you do is plop Trixie's ass on the couch.

The second thing you do?

"Cadace, for the love of god, can you get me a towel to wipe this shit up?"

It was then you noticed that she was way ahead of you, walking out of the bathroom with a towel balanced on her head.

"Here you go, dear," she coos, trotting up to you.

You throw off your dirty shirt and grab the towel.

"Egh. Thank you," you say, sopping up the mess.

"No problem!"

She trots to the bedroom afterwards, a smile on her face.

Octavia has taken a seat next to Trixie on the couch, and Scootaloo and the doctor are sitting on a couple other seats in the room.

Octavia looks over Trixie, wiping some of the vomit off of her face.

Trixie snarls a bit and snorts.

She's finally seeming to stir.

"...Heh. She's in for a world of hurt when she wakes up."

With that, you hear Trixie make some weird noises.

Was she trying to talk?

"...Shhhuh... Ubh... Uhnuuhn..."

You're still not sure.

Octavia grimaces, and idly pets Trixie's mane without saying a word.

Meanwhile, you turn to your left and look at the pile of stuff.

Everyone's stuff.

Thank you, Octavia, for taking one less hassle off of our hands.

You walk towards it, grabbing the box that held Scootaloo's scooter.

The filly immediately bolts over to you, a comically large grin plastered on her face.

You look down at her, smiling.

Her tail is even wagging a little.

"Are we gonna go set up the scooter now?!"

Your smile grows at the sound of her voice.

"That was the plan."

"Like, right now?!"

You nod, starting to walk towards the door.

"Yeah."

She's literally bouncing up and down in excitement.

With the way she's acting, you're expecting her to turn bright pink any moment.

"Oooohohohohoh! This is so COOL! C'mon, let's hurry up! I wanna see my scooter! I WANNA SEE MY SCOOTER!"

You can only smile, swinging the door open and stepping outside.

As you start to make your way out of the hotel and across town, she just gets more and more excited.

She giggles uncontrollably, and that smile just keeps growing.

You march through the city, ignoring the stares you get from the goats that probably think you're some sort of ape pedo.

But you don't really care.

After a bit of a trek, you see ahead of you a large field of grass, with trees, benches, and trails all about.

Just a simple, plain park.

A few goats around, and some of their kids.

Perfect.

With that, you set down the box and start unpacking.

Scootaloo gladly helps you in her anxiety.

Soon, you have all of the parts pulled out and laid out, and you have the instruction manual in your hands.

"Okay, so, let's see. You have the... Uh..."

You squint, and try to read the fine print.

"The hurka-durka-durka-durr, or whatever this thing is. I'm guessing it's the engine, but it's... Hold on, let me see ...Huh?"

You look across the field after hearing a yelp from one of the kids.

It's hard to see exactly where it came from; there's a huddle of kids around the base of a tree, but...

Are they playing some weird ass game?

It looks like it, and sounds like it.

They're yelling stuff in Germane, and you've given up all hope of understanding them.

"Kartoffelkopf!" you hear one of them yell.

You're not sure what that means, but it sounds malicious.

Whatever. Probably some teenagers fucking around.

You turn back to Scootaloo, who has taken the manual from your hands and started putting the body together.

"Heh. You handling this yourself?"

She nods.

"Yeah. Kinda basic, dude. But I can't put all of the little screw things in. I don't have a horn."

"Or, uh... Those weird things. Claws?"

She gestures to your hands.

"Oh, right. Gotcha. So, how about you put the pieces of the puzzle together," you say, grabbing a screwdriver, "and I do this?"

Sounds like a plan! But hurry. I wanna ride this thing."

You nod, grabbing a few of the screws and screwing parts of the body together.

It's like trying to pull two of those tiny thin Lego's apart, but it's possible.

Working through the stress and irritation, you manage to start some sort of conversation.

"Did you bring your old scooter?"

Scootaloo shakes her head, putting together the base and the wheels.

"Nah. It's still in Windsoar next to my bed."

She had a bed?

You open your mouth, about to ask, but then you decide it's likely a wise idea not to.

"Ah, gotcha."

You grab a few more screws, and start working away.

The kids in the background are getting rowdier, and it's a little distracting.

But, it's bearable.

Eventually, you get most of the frame of the scooter put together.

All you have to do is screw together the handlebars, hook up the engine, and add the auxiliaries, and you're done.

You work on the handlebars, and Scootaloo starts grabbing all of the little playthings out of the box.

First thing, she puts the rubber honker right in between the handlebars.

After giving it a squeeze and gigglesnorting at the adorable honk, she digs back into the box.

As she grabs the two mounted squirt guns that go on either end, as well as the mechanism that allows you to fire them from the handlebars, you work on hooking up the motor.

And it's not too difficult.

There's just one simple plug in.

It's literally just one plug in.

Shrugging at how easy it seemed, you inserted the engine into its spot right behind the back wheel.

And, now, for the batteries.

Two D batteries, to be precise.

And, contrary to how things normally are, these batteries were included.

You pop open the hatch, clicking them into place with your sore fingers.

After they're both in place and ready to go, you smile, looking up at Scootaloo, who is—

Wait, holy shit, where did she get those water bottles?

And how did she hook it up that fast?

Maybe you spent more time on the engine than you thought.

"Heheh. Got it all working there, Scoots?"

She squeezes one of the handlebar-mounted triggers, and out squirts a rather strong stream from the right turret.

"Yep! It works!"

"Heh, Anon, you have noooooo idea what you've just given me..."

"I actually do. And I'm having second thoughts."

"Well, it's too late now dude!" she says, smiling as she hops on the scooter for the first time.

And, before you can even start to comprehend what's happening, she takes off, riding down the concrete path that's laid out through the park.

You smile, looking at her as she zips around.

The filly lets out some whoops and hollars, giggling and laughing the whole time she rides around at breakneck speeds.

She's pumped full of joy, and it's contagious.

Some of the other goats are even looking at her and smiling.

"HAHAH! HERE COMES THE PAYLOAD!"

...

Wait.

No.

NO.

You watch in horror as she reaches up at the triggers for the squirt guns, unleashing their load on a poor, unsuspecting—