It was on a night where the air was seared with the scent of neon and deep dish pizza that a baby colt was born. However, before his parents could name him, complications arose. He was rushed away by doctors, his vital signs were failing. The baby was expected to die. But it was then that Celestia approached the couple. She told them she could save their child, but he would be changed, part steel, part flesh. 100% badass.
The parent’s accepted, deciding the heavy burden of being amazing would be a cross he would have to bear in grizzled manliness. They named their saved child Neon Synth, because why wouldn’t you name your child that? Now he’s grown to live in a world where turmoil is rising from every crevice. A world where he must rise to his birthright. The birthright of being the most badass stallion who ever lived then almost died then lived again.
In the streets of Canterlot he walked alone, as he so often did. Nondescript fog hung over the asphalt and snaked between his legs as he walked, the fog rising ever higher as Synth continued downhill into the city proper. His eyes were hidden, a pair of strangely opaque sunglasses blocking any possible light from passing through them in any direction yet still allowing full sight to the person wearing them. Sunglasses so sharp that even red and black alicorns couldn’t compete with their edginess. Those kind of sunglasses.
His trench coat made of heavy psuedo-leather fabric swished ever so slightly back and forth with his steps, keeping time like a metronome, impressing every moment's passing into his mind. He had somewhere to be. He always did.
His travels took him to a corner, but only for a moment. His hooves paused for a breath of time before he left the well-lit street and moved into an unmarked alley and the darkness it offered. He took a cigarette from his pocket and moved it to his mouth, lighting it with nothing but the steam that escaped from between his teeth, the results of his inner machinations. The light flashed his face for a moment, but quickly faded away in such a way that it barely illuminated his teeth, a pinprick of yellow light among the blue darkness. A stream of smoke squirreled its way out the corner of his mouth, the wisp losing itself amongst the fog that surrounded it.
He waited there until he heard a voice from the corner. He looked around the stone of the building he waited at, light catching his face, his steely jaw reflecting the neon pink and orange of nearby signs. He breathed a last stream of smoke out of his nostrils before dropping the cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with his hoof.
He approached the mare who waited for him, and she smiled as she saw the recognizable appearance of her old friend. “Vinyl.” Synth said, his voice gruff and manly. “How’s life?”
“Things have been going okay.” She said with a sly smile. Vinyl was trouble, Synth knew this, but she attracted him like a moth to a flame. She’d made her decision when she married Octavia, and Synth had respected her decision, which was more than he could say for her parents. Still though, Synth hadn’t lost his love, so he’d stayed ‘just friends’. “Didn’t know you were back in town though. Thought you were busy dealing with the monster attack in Ponyville.” Vinyl continued. “Well that’s people said anyway. I think you just went there to talk with your pen pal.” The way she said the last few words made her intentions clear, and Synth found he couldn’t deny it.
“I had to fight off a zombie army. But I did have some spare time left after that. Only zombies, after all.” A red light glowed through the shades he wore, piercing the otherwise complete darkness they cast. It moved around slowly along the frame of the glasses until it rested on Vinyl. “You said I missed some music releases?”
“Got just the stuff for you.” She said with a laugh. “All that heavy synthetic techno music you seem to love. There’s a surge going through Manehattan right now, tons of music coming out in that genre. Picked up a couple albums for you.” She pulled a plastic bag out of her saddlebags and levitated it over to Synth, who moved it into his own saddle bags.
The red light seemed to flicker for a moment before fading away behind his shades again. Silence held the street for a moment. “How’s Octavia doing?” Synth finally asked, looking at her.
“She’s being stubborn, same as always. Finally got her to listen to some Progressive House and I think she liked it more than she’s willing to let on.”
“If you ever end up leaving her-”
“I know, you’ll be waiting for me.” Vinyl smiled that same sly smile. “Maybe you should move on huh? It’s been a decade since I started seeing Octy, five years since we married. Maybe you should look for your own special somepony.”
Synth looked away into the stirring fog. Mysterious and dangerous as he always was. “I don’t know if there’s anyone for this lone wolf anymore Vinyl. My lifestyles too dangerous for most mares.”
“Well you got that pen pal of yours don’t you? I’m sure things will work out.”
“Yea…” Synth growled the word, his gravely voice only accentuating it.
“Well hey did you ever get that chrome carriage that you talked to Celestia about?”
“Nah, not enough in the royal coffers I guess. Have to do things like build roads and playgrounds.”
“Ah, tough luck.” Vinyl waited for Synth to respond but when he didn’t she realized the conversation was more or less over. “Well I’ve got to get back to the hotel. Take care of yourself Synth.”
“Will do. You take care of yourself too Vinyl.”
She smiled back at him before kissing him lightly on the pony side of his face. “Always.” She whispered before moving away.
Even after she’d faded out of sight Synth stood there. He didn’t move, his expression hidden behind his shades. The neon light that had illuminated the corner flashed for a moment, then gave way to complete darkness. “Hey!” came a voice to his side. Synth glanced over to see a thug in a leather jacket slowly approaching.
“Why don’t you just hand over what’s in your saddlebags huh? Promise not to hurt you.”
Synth might have taken that escape at one point in his life. Mutually respect for ponykind and all that jazz the elements harped on about. Sometimes, though, lessons had to be taught and to Synth pain was as good a medium as any. Synth turned to fully face the thug, the red light flickering its way back into existence behind his shades. “No can do buddy, precious cargo.”
The thug smiled to himself. “I was sorta hoping you’d say that.” He said, his voice twisted and strange. The thug moved in and pulled a bent pipe from some kind of makeshift sheath. He swung the weapon, only for it to snap in two as it collided. The attacker looked up as the neon sign flickered back to life revealing the metal nature of the jaw, his eyes went wide in response.
“You’re under arrest for assault.” Synth said, picking up the half metal pipe from the ground. The thug turned to run but as soon as his gaze had left the cyborg he felt the solid metal weapon connect with the base of his skull, knocking him out cold. He collapsed to the cobblestone, unconscious but breathing.
“Bad night for you.” Synth remarked, the long hours of training for chill speeches given to unconscious criminals becoming more and more worthwhile everyday. “I just wanted to go home and listen to some music.”
Author's Note
Just trying out tropes and 80's outrun setting. Small chance this will continue, but probably not.
