Das Wiederaufleben

“Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!” Scootaloo screamed once she and the other centurions were out of the royals’ earshot. “First Princess twilight’s castle and now this!?”

Marks had pulled the whimpering Fang to his side. “This is bullshit...” he agreed. The large stallion felt the tiny mare beside him grow damp from sweat and turned his gaze to her. “Fang, sweetie, what's the matter? You're sweating like a polar bear in the middle of the Mohoove Desert.”

“Zat can't be Endlösung, it just can't...” she whispered.

“Sergeant,” Hermes interjected. “You're speaking as if you know that pony.”

“Und vhy do you zink zat is, private?” She growled. “Endlösung was my hero growing up. He vas ze foremost expert in ze fields of aerospace und robotics. He supposedly committed suicide fifteen or so years ago...”

“So we're dealing with zombies, now?” Hermes queried, not exactly sure himself if he was joking.

“You looked up to a Nazi?” Scootaloo queried confusedly.

“He vas NOT a Nazi!” Fang barked. “He vas a genius! An innovator, who sought to better ze vorld! Not some verdammt new-age fascist!”

“Sweetie! Calm down!” Marks urged. “We're all upset right now, but there's nothing we can do till we get our orders tomorrow.”

Solemnly, the thestral bowed her head.

“That reminds me,” Scootaloo began, “you two need to be better at concealing your little... 'bond’. I don't think anypony caught on but still, try not to call each other 'darling’ or 'sweetie’ or stuff like that around anypony other me and Hermes.”

Marks grunted in annoyance. “I thought you said you were okay with us being together.”

“I am, but I can't speak for the General or the Princesses. I'm just looking out for you two.”

“Understood.” Fang answered for Marks. “Marks, let's go blow off some steam, ja?”

The stallion smirked. “How should we blow said steam off?”

The thestral blushed and whispered something into her boyfriend's ear, causing his smirk to widen. “Getting adventurous, huh? My tongue could use a good workout.” He teased.

“Trust me, it doesn't, Dummkopf.” She teased back.

“Heh....” Scootaloo chuckled nervously as a blush creeped across her face. “Um... You two.... h-have fun, I guess...” she mumbled as Fang led Marks by the hoof to their sleeping quarters.

“Those two certainly enjoy each other's company.” Hermes observed. “They've been that way for a year and a half?”

“I know, right? Hard to believe.” Scootaloo nodded. “I'm just not sure how they managed to keep that hidden for as long as they did.”

Hermes let out a chuckle and grinned. “If they're that good at acting, I wouldn't be surprised if they were changelings themselves.” He joked.

“Aaaaannnndddd there's my recurring nightmare for the next week or so. Thanks for that, kid.” The orange mare giggled when suddenly an idea popped into her head. “Hey, Hermes. How old are ya?”

“Um... my egg clutch hatched twenty-one years ago.” The young changeling answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Perfect.” Scootaloo grabbed Hermes leg, dragged him to her chamber and opened a cold box near the door, before reaching in and pulling out two large bottles. “It ain't Sweet Apple Cider, but it gets the job done,” she said as she handed him a bottle.

Hermes sniffed curiously at the contents of the bottle, muzzle scrunching at the tart aroma. “Um…. is this… alcoholic?” he questioned, cautiously.

“Of course it is!” Scootaloo chimed, cracking open a bottle for herself with her teeth. “After the crazy scheiße that’s been going down, recently, I think we could all use a bit of Dutch courage, if ya know what I mean.” She joked, waggling her eyebrows as she chinked the lip of her bottle against Hermes’. “Welp. Bottoms up, kiddo.” She winked, necking half the bottle in one go. Once the booze was down her gullet, she quirked an eyebrow when she noticed Hermes had put his bottle down on the floor and was pushing it away like a foal rejecting his strained peas. “What’s wrong, Herm? Never got yourself white mare wasted before?”

Hermes shook his head. “Never. And… with all due respect, Commander, with good reason.” He turned his gaze to meet the mare’s, his eyes uncharacteristically staring at her with great intensity. “You see…. Alcohol is to a changeling what cyanide is to a pony.”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened in horror at that revelation. “Oh! O-Oh shit, I’m sorry, dude.” She stumbled, quickly swiping the bottle away. “Shit... I'm sure I have something in here that you can drink.” She mumbled as she dug into the cooler.

“Really, Commander, that's not necessa-” Before the young changeling could speak any further, his commander thrusted a different bottle into his grip. This one plastic instead of glass and with a red label with little white swirls. “What's this? Colta-cola?” Hermes asked.

Scootaloo smiled. “It's called soda. It's essentially flavored sugar water.” She answered. “And not a bit of alcohol in it.”

Hermes tentatively twisted the cap off the bottle and cautiously sniffed at the dark sugar water inside. It smelt sweet, almost sickeningly so, and he could hear the fluid hissing and bubbling inside the bottle. Slowly, and with much trepidation, he took a small sip. His eyes widened as the sweet tasting fizzy liquid poured down his throat. He felt his wings start to buzz of their own accord, seemingly in response to the delicious nectar. “This is... this... More...” He tipped the bottle back, wrapping his lips around the neck of the bottle and gulping greedily as he necked the whole bottle in one breath.

Scootaloo watched with wide eyes, an amused smile creeping across her face when the changeling let out a loud, echoing, belch. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Herm, you can’t just neck it like water, you’re gonna give yourself a sugar rush.” She giggled as the changeling literally buzzed and bounced in place, chanting for more.

“Alright, Alright,” She chuckled as sipped her own beverage and tossed Hermes another bottle.

The cadet opened the bottle and raised it above his head, letting the drink cascade down into his mouth. With one gulp, Hermes had emptied the bottle, his wings now buzzing so hard that he was barely on the ground. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, his euphoric face clearly enjoying the new concoction.

“Jeeze, kid,” Scootaloo teased as she finished off her own drink. “You look like you've just been fucked by the stuff.”

“More! I need more!” Hermes exclaimed as a pinkish tinge crept onto Scootaloo's cheeks.

“Aw crap, I'm starting to feel buzzed already,” She declared. “Shit... Well... a few more bottles won't hurt.”