Gridlock was always anxious around capybaras. Not that she thought they were ugly, of course: your average capy looked much like a guinea pig, if guinea pigs ever decided that being so small was a bad thing and getting up to the size of actual wild boars was a good idea. They stood a whole head smaller than the mare, a head and a half smaller than most pony stallions, but that was big enough to matter in the grand scheme of civilisations and politics.
She wasn’t even that anxious about the weapons the capies around her were carrying. In the pack of 20, half of them carried spears and shields, the other half bore the weight of an arbalest on their backs.
What made Gridlock anxious was the likelihood of them ever using the weapons they carried.
Capybaras were, by nature, easy to scare. In that respect, they were much like ponies. Their first response to being scared, however, was quite different to that of ponies, at least in Gridlock’s eyes. Where ponies were prone to rallying against a common foe, capies had a tendency to just run and hide, or freeze in terror. That may have accounted for their taste in weapons: stationary defenses made it easier to curb their instincts; standing still while firing big guns did work, provided the guns were big and numerous enough. It did leave them weak to being overrun, but it was better than nothing. She just hoped the military training had done enough to get them to stand their ground when attacked.
You just can’t beat evolution, and the instinct of whole generations' worth of being prey animals doesn’t go away if you introduce civilisation for a, by comparison, pathetically short time.
Gridlock knew the upsides and downsides of genetics all too well. She was a unicorn mare with a whitish golden coat and a flaxen mane and tail, remnants of her proud Brabansong ancestry. Ponies even said she looked like a paler Daring Do, which was ridiculous, because Daring Do never brushed her mane, whereas Griddy made a point of keeping her hair flat and manageable at all times. She had descended from a long line of strong Earth pony workhorses who’d partaken in valliant missions for the Royal Guard, and who’d later gotten mixed blood with unicorns. But where her more recent family had forgone military matters in favour of traffic control, Gridlock was a traditionalist.
“So what do you think, Griddy?”
She looked next to her. Though Gridlock was only descended from the legendary Brabansong, dear Slam had their pure blood coursing through his veins. Deep brown coat, caramel-coloured mane and tail, and hooves like sledgehammers, Slam looked like the very picture of one of the old warriors. Didn’t have the temperament to match, though.
“I’m sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.”
Slam grumbled. “Think we can get to Milagro before tomorrow?”
Griddy looked back. Twenty capy guards, all fresh out of training; four wagons, each being pulled by a pair of heavily armoured Earth pony Royal Guards; six pegasus Royal Guards for scouting, eight Earth pony heavy infantry, and three casters, her included.
Really, their speed depended on the terrain. The roads weren’t so much roads as they were dirt trails for the moment, and in the savannah the trees were present enough to slow the group down, but not dense enough to provide any shade, so that would add a couple of hours to the timetable. Not that the officials had any fault there, of course.
The capies had been expanding their territories out of the usual swamp and river lands they inhabited, and headed more towards the south of their home continent. Again, they weren’t that different from ponies in that regard.
Unfortunately, much like ponies, that meant they’d encountered some threats along the way. Wild beasts, rogues and bandits from other nations, and the occasional eldritch abomination that rose up from the depths to take over the world. Standard stuff, really. Equestria had been more than happy to lend its aid, though training the rodents had proven tricky. This trip was to be the first real mission for the local forces.
Milagro City, where they were headed, was one of the newer settlements, and was scheduled for a visit from both the capy governor and Miss Harshwhinny, along with the usual suspects who got sent out of Equestria: Prince Blueblood, and two dignitaries who liked to tag along with him.
“A trek through the savannah, in full gear? We should make good time, I suppose. Assuming we don’t get ambushed, we ought to make it by nightfall. Why?”
Slam gulped. “Hoping to keep a promise. No biggie.”
Griddy nodded knowingly. “How old is he now?”
“Nine years and three hundred sixty-four days. Not counting leap years.”
“Ah, now I follow. Hoping to get him a little something when we get to base?”
Slam shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a problem, right? I mean, Milagro’s already got power and com up. They’ve got a network, don’t they?”
Gridlock nodded and stopped, holding up a hoof. “They should, yeah. Getting it from the usual place, then?”
“Yup. The usual place.” Slam stopped and motioned ahead of him. “Log up ahead.”
"I see it." Gridlock turned and called out behind her. “Roadblock!” Following her lead, the whole convoy stopped.
In front of them lay a tree, blocking the road. It would have stood about twenty heads high, and its trunk was thick enough to reach up to a pony’s chin if they stood next to it.
Too heavy to move with raw muscle, too thick to cut in a reasonable amount of time, and in the middle of the road with good cover for any enemies on either side.
Slam looked around furtively. The capybaras chittered amongst themselves, whistling and wheeking as their recent training regimen slowly came to them. They scanned the area only slightly more slowly than the ponies did. No signs of enemies, no telltale scents, just dried-out trees and spiky bushes in all directions.
Gridlock looked behind her, waiting for the sign. Slam, ever mindful of his duty, stayed close with his weapons at the ready.
Slam was, as Griddy had learned, the typical away-from-home dad, an Earth pony who’d taken the warrior’s path more for the job security than any glory. He took his job seriously enough, but he wasn’t one to go looking for heroics.
This was a major plus in Gridlock’s book. The Royal Guard’s unicorns liked to tell each other horror stories about all the times a pegasus or Earth pony would abandon their unicorn charge, leaving the caster wide open to an attack. Magic took a lot of concentration, so aside from your bog standard run and gun, most unicorns couldn’t cast spells while on the move.
And every enemy to ponies knew about that weakness all too well.
Slam sighed. “Who’s on cushion duty today?”
“I am,” Gritty said with a groan.
“Okay, I’ll cover you, then.”
As had become a routine in such situations, the capies carrying arbalests lowered themselves down while the ones with spears took their defensive positions and manned the guns.
The pegasi escorting them flew up, looked around, then went back down, giving the all clear.
“No sign of any hostiles,” Slam said.
“Not from above, no.” Grid looked around, eyeing the spiky bushes. “Watch the flanks. If the bushes start moving, you know what to do.”
“It could just be bad weather, Griddy. It could have been blown over.”
“Or it could be a trap. Something’s been raiding the supply lines, it might be this.”
Slam regarded the log in front of them as they stepped forward, side by side. “Okay, what are you betting on, then? Centipedes?”
“Not enough meat around to make them flock.”
“Naga?”
“Too far from water.”
“Dragon, then?” Slam snickered.
She slapped him right on the chest. Of course, given he was wearing standard Royal Guard armour, it didn’t hurt. “Just cover me while I move this thing, okay?”
“As you say, Ma’am.” Slam saluted the mare, before donning his shield and spear. He moved even closer beside her, close enough to feel her body heat through the chinks of his armour. If he wasn’t married, it might have created some tension between them.
Gridlock concentrated and let her magic wrap around the fallen tree. Summoning all her might, she gritted her teeth and lifted-
Thunk!
Gridlock opened her eyes. Slam had his arm over her neck, covering the weak spot with a metal-clad hoof.
Tick.
The thing that had nearly gone through her throat bounced harmlessly to the rocky ground.
It was a quill, a serrated arrow.
Slam growled. “The bushes. They move. ‘Pine attack! ‘Pine attack!”
Once their cover was blown, the creatures erupted from the ground. Where before, spikey bushes had littered the landscape, now there were brown hounds darting between the trees. Chencipines: great maned wolf-like creatures that could make the hairs on anyone’s neck stand on end, including their own. Trouble was, they could also shoot the hairs on their necks, and with enough force to pierce flesh at that. A few dozen of them came rushing in, bristles ablazing. Whistling sounds of quills flying towards the convoy filled the air, followed by the excited and panicky “Wheek! Wheek! Wheek” of the capy guards. Before long, the first one had broken through the treeline and made it to the road, its pack right on its tail.
The first wave of the monsters lunged as one, a wave of flesh and spines airborne for a single moment.
And then the capies returned fire, and suddenly there weren’t quite as many hounds as there were a while ago.
Gridlock afforded herself a wince at the sight of the enemies getting impaled. “Ouch.”
Slam patted her on the back to snap her out of it. “Don’t get distracted now. The enemy’s on the convoy, escort’s on the enemy, we’re on the log. Get that thing out of the way, before the blood scent travels.”
Gridlock resumed her stance and cast her spell again. “Guess now we know what’s been raiding the supply lines.”
Slam nodded, always keeping an eye on the bushes around them. “Yeah, chencipines, quillhounds. Awful lot of them, though. At least the capies are shooting back.”
Gridlock braced herself and groaned, then slowly got the tree to move.
She felt the pressure of gravity spread into her body, her muscles contracting despite her best efforts. Her neck tensed and ached, and she was pretty sure she pulled a muscle in her haunches as she steadied herself. She put it past her, though, breathing calmly and steadily like she’d been taught. The magic took its toll, but she got her target off the ground, shaky though it was. It inched out of the way agonisingly slowly, but out of the way, regardless. Once it was off the road and dropped safely, she gasped for breath. She shook on her hooves, trying to get the dizziness to recede. “Okay, that’s done. Now once they stop charging us we should-”
“Get down!” Slam knocked her down and to the side. A louder ‘thud’ marked another projectile launched at her. She saw it bounce off Slam’s shield and jam itself into the ground. This quill was bigger, thicker, heavier.
Oh, no.
She felt the ground shake, like a stampede. Once she saw the source of the attack, her very life passed before her eyes.
Breakfast at the first day of kindergarten. Oats and milk.
First Nightmare Night. She went as a skeletal lich, so her mother could keep track of her in the mob of zombies.
Career day in high school. The pride on her father’s face when she mentioned she might be a Royal Guard one day.
Prep school. The burn of her muscles. Headaches from studying.
First mission, meeting Slam.
And finally, this. This one moment. Her death.
A howling monster of a wolf, the size of a manticore, covered in a mane quills.
The pack alpha.
It leaped at her, teeth at the ready.
“Not today!” Slam brought down his front hooves on its head to stun it in mid-air. Even with Earth pony strength, the thing just shook off the blow, before trying to lunge for the unicorn’s supposed protector.
Slam took a bite to the bracer on his right hoof, then a swipe from the claw against his chest plate.
Slam fell back, thrown like a rag doll. Blood and metal scattered through the air, claws finding the chink in his plates.
The alpha turned on Gridlock again. She tried to move, to get back on her hooves, but the spell had worn her out. As much as she prided herself on her power, she was no Celestia. She forced out more magic to her horn, trying to conjure lightning but only managing a fizzle.
The thing lowered its head, three spines of its mane bent forward. One was aimed straight at her throat, the other two would scatter and probably pierce bone at that range. Behind her, more ‘pines fell to the arbalests, and the ponies took care of any holes in the defense while the capy shooters reloaded.
She needed a shield, fast.
“I said: no!”
Slam jumped in front of her again. Right when he was in position, she felt something knock him back and into her, but he wasn’t even winded. She saw the quills scatter on impact, no doubt bouncing off what was left of his armour.
The alpha, however, was surprised by his second wind, and against an angry Earth pony that sort of lapse in attention was lethal.
Slam rammed into the thing with his hooves again, before getting his shield and, true to his name, slamming it into the alpha’s skull. It buckled under the onslaught, but even after that blow it still had enough strength to stand on its hind paws and swipe for him.
Slam took the beating on his shield, driven back a step, then two. He couldn’t see his spear, probably dropped it at the first blocked shot.
But Earth pony soldiers were known for improvising in the heat of battle. With one smooth motion, he kicked up one of the alpha’s spent quills, got it in his front hooves, and stabbed the alpha in the neck.
A bloodcurdling yowl went through the air. The other quillhounds, the ones that hadn’t been routed yet, shivered and slowly started backing away.
Slam growled and jammed the quill in deeper, before finishing it with another double-hooved blow to the skull. The thing went down, and if the quill hadn’t been enough of an indicator, the mushy state of its face left little question as to whether it was dead or not.
Silence fell. The road was clear. The hounds were gone.
The capies wheeked at each other in confusion. Gridlock was barely aware of what was happening, with the magic exhaustion and adrenaline rush.
“You saved me.”
“Royal Guard duty, Griddy.”
Behind them, an excited voice could be heard. “Do you realise what you’ve done? You’ve killed an alpha! Their whole pack will be finished here!”
Grid’s ears perked when she heard Slam’s breathing grow ragged. “Governor’s pleased, at least. Probably get you a capy medal. Slam, you okay?”
When she saw the front of him, she gasped. “No.”
Slam’s face was contorted in agony. He’d pushed her out of the way of one of the alpha’s shots. That quill was now sticking out of a bloody hole in its body. He’d bodyblocked the second shot. Two of those quills lay behind her. The third was now sticking out of a bloody hole in his chest.
“But… the armour…”
Slam rolled his eyes. “‘Sign up today’, they said.”
He collapsed.
"Ugh..."
Bright lights. Green walls. The smell of antiseptic. The sting of a chencipine quill right through the chest. Bandages over the stinging area, good sign.
"Mister Slam? Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"
The stallion tried to move, to sit up. Blinking bleary eyes and taking in a big gulp of breath, he was rewarded with agony, but an upright position nonetheless. "Aaah... yeah, I can hear you. And see you. Hellooo, nurse. Where am I and how much time do I have?"
The nurse was a capybara, with a brown and white coat, dark brown eyes, and no arbalest on her back. This, to Slam, suggested she was a civilian. She chitchitted her teeth together in annoyance. "You are in Milagro General, the military ward. Your squad took heavy fire."
"No, the chencipines threw heavy fire. We did a lot more than just take it."
"Hey, Griddy," Slam greeted. "How's the head and horn?"
Gridlock grumbled and stumbled into the room. “Better now. I shouldn’t have frozen like that.”
“Come on, you lifted a whole tree, while under fire. Cut yourself some slack.”
“Doesn’t make it okay.”
“How’s the rest of the gang?”
"Good. Everyone made it back safe and sound, except for a few scrapes, and except for you. The first round of return fire really took the wind out of’em, but the alpha would have turned it around if you hadn’t stepped in. The capybaras are very grateful, Blueblood nearly had a heart attack, but he’ll live. Now why did you have to go and do something stupid like that?"
Slam chuckled. “Guy’s gotta cover his ‘corn, right?”
“You know what I mean, Slam.”
Slam rubbed his sore and bandaged chest. He clenched his jaw. "I promised I’d be on time. I wasn’t going to let some cocky quillhound alpha mess up my timing.”
“You’re a fool, Slam.”
He winced. “I’m a father who keeps his promises. Now, how bad is it?"
"You took an armor-piercing quill to the chest. One of your ribs was sawed through from the impact. Your heart was pierced," Gridlock replied. “That’s not even mentioning the flesh wounds from the claws. Your plating got knocked clean off on the side, you should have been cut in half. You’re lucky to be alive.”
The stallion sighed and sat back, trying to bite through the pain. It worked, but only just. There was definitely something off about the spot where he’d taken a swipe, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The ache in his chest, though, that was worrisome. "Wait, how long was I out?"
"You've only missed a day," Grid replied. "You can do it now, if you like."
“Do what?” The nurse asked.
“Get my son his birthday present,” Slam replied. “I promised I’d get him something, so I will.”
"Excuse me?" The nurse furrowed her brow. "Mister Slam is not going anywhere."
"Silly capybara naming conventions," Slam said. "My name is not Mister Slam, okay? It's Mister Tilt, Slam Tilt.”
“Very well, then, Mister Tilt. You are in no condition to be moving. Your heart was damaged.”
“But it’s repaired now, isn’t it?”
Gridlock sighed and sat down next to his bed. “Barely. You need to rest now, Slam. It was touch and go for a while. You can’t take any more risks.”
“What, so lying in bed doing nothing is less of a risk than getting my son a birthday present?”
Griddy rolled her eyes. “Do you even know what you’re going to get him?”
“Sure I do. I’ll, umm, I’ll browse around the store, see what he likes.”
Griddy groaned. “You don’t even know where to look.”
“Oh, and you do?”
Gridlock folded her arms in front of her chest. “As a matter of fact, yes. I think I do. I think I’ve got a little more experience in the matter than you.”
Slam looked away. “Look, I promised, okay? That’s kind of a big deal in my household. It’s a big day, I can’t just do nothing.”
Griddy nodded. “I know, I understand. Tell you what, I’ll help you out. You’re buying, though, got it?”
“Of course.”
“Excuse me, but Mister Tilt is no condition to go out buying anything. Besides, you’re not going to get to Equestria anytime soon,” the nurse remarked. “If you’re going to send a package, you’re better off waiting until you can think clearly again.”
Slam let out a weary sigh. “I am aware of how far I am from home, thank you. Now, am I to understand I'm in a civilian hospital?"
The big rodent nodded. "Yes, sir.”
"Does this hospital have an open comline to the Infonet?" Slam asked.
"Ah, some of the wards are insulated, but, yes, it does. You can get a connection here, I suppose. Why do you ask?"
"Gritty, would you mind?"
Gridlock nodded. "I'll go get you a computer."
Slam chuckled. "And if it's not too much trouble-"
"One that can handle some work, don’t worry. I know."
Button Mash sat, as he always did this time of night, downstairs. He kept his nose in the book he'd gotten from Silver Spoon. It was three hours after sundown, almost bedtime for him. He didn’t yawn, though, not with the excitement of the day still fresh in his mind.
"Have fun today?" Carrot Mash asked.
Button shrugged. "Yeah, mom. It was fun, thanks." His left ear twitched.
“Your ear’s twitching again, sweetie. Anxious?”
Button nodded eagerly. “He’s supposed to be in Milagro by now, right? And off duty?”
“That’s what he said. He might be delayed, though. If he can’t come online today, you know that doesn’t mean anything.”
“But he promised, mom. He said he would.”
“I know he promised, honey, but you have to understand sometimes-”
“Calling Ponyville! This is Slam Tilt calling Ponyville, come in, Ponyville!”
Button didn’t even close his book. With one smooth motion, he rushed into the computer room where the call had come from, got on the chair and plugged in his headset, with the microphone already down. "Dad?"
"Hey there, champ! How's it feel to be a decade old?" Slam Tilt's voice came with a rasp and a cough.
"I dunno, dad, it feels kinda the same as yesterday, I just have more stuff now. What's wrong with your throat? Did you catch a cough? You're not allergic to rodents, are you?"
Slam Tilt chuckled. Even that close to bedtime, he could count on his boy to ask the smart questions. He coughed again, and groaned through the headset.
Button did notice, of course, but before he could ask more, his dad surprised him.
"Open your Vapour account."
"Huh?" Button clicked around on the computer screen to open up Vapour, the online games library he and his dad were signed up on.
It wasn't so much that Slam had wanted to sign up, it's just that Button really liked video games, Vapour tended to be the easiest way to get them, and Slam had slowly started getting into the hobby as a result. Very slowly, given his duties.
There was always the concern for Button’s grades, of course, as well as the danger of addiction. But his grades had gone up since acquiring his little library of games, and it was easy enough to keep him away from the computer room if need be. Button could still go without gaming for a few days or weeks, if he had to, which was the major concern of both his parents and his teacher.
Vapour was a convenient system like that: purchased games were added to an account, meaning there were no disks that could break or get lost and reinstalling games after getting a new computer was an easy matter. It had started as a fad back in the day, then settled into a mainstay of video games.
Not only that, but the online store had a good amount of games that simply didn't come in physical copies any more, meaning there was never any rush to get a new game as it came out. It was a social network, too, but Button rarely used it like that. Most of his actual friends, he only hung out with in real life. He didn’t have a use for all the features.
But for his father, at the other end of the world, Vapour did allow for some other, more practical advantages.
Button saw the welcoming screen, and the notification of a message on the top right, one with his dad’s username on it.
You have been gifted a new game by Pinhead77.
"Snorks Must Die 2?! You got me Snorks Must Die 2?" Button screamed, loud enough for his mother to hear.
"Not so loud, champ, you don't want the neighbours to complain again. But yeah, I told you I'd get you a game for your birthday. I know how much you liked the first one, even if it's a little too violent," Slam lied. In reality, Griddy had checked his son’s library and noticed the first Snorks Must Die game in his collection. According to Gridlock, apparently Button had good taste in strategy games. Slam Tilt wasn’t familiar enough with it all to really tell, he just knew his son liked one particular part of the online store.
Button let the game install immediately. "Oh, my gosh, this is gonna be so cool. This one's got co-op and everything. You can split your traps and then go shoot Snorks in two different lanes."
"Yup," Slam said, pretending he understood that before coughing again. "How about a couple rounds, huh?"
"Wait, you're gonna play, too? With me?"
“I promised, didn’t I?”
Button smiled. “Yeah, you did. But are you allowed to play games right now?”
"Sure I am, why wouldn’t I be? I just gotta log out and log in with a different account, hang on."
Button waited anxiously. That ragged breath came through the headset, sending shivers down his spine. "Dad? Are you okay? You don't sound so good."
"There, I'm in. I'm sending a friend invite."
You have been invited by NittyGrittyWarlock.
Button clicked 'Accept'. "Okay, I accepted. Dad, where are you? What happened?"
"Well, I did what I was supposed to, of course. Escorted the governor, protected the convoy, protected the ponies and capies. I got a little banged up covering my ‘corn, so now I'm in the hospital. I'm on a laptop, so I might be kinda laggy. Can you start the game?"
Button didn't reply. He just hit the buttons.
The music that greeted him was a bombastic orchestra fitting a heroic entry, the sort that would be heard in the cheesiest of Saturday morning cartoons, a mix of medieval and metal that he’d learned to love in the first game. The title screen was just like the first game’s, too: big, flashy letters, a background that showed the blue nexus he was supposed to protect, and dead bodies littering the ground. "Dad, this is so cool."
"I know, that's why I got it. Gonna make your character already?"
A couple more clicks and some typing, and Button was ready to go. A burly War Mage was his choice: the same big-chinned unicorn character as in the first game. The only character in the first game, in fact. Apparently the sequel let you play the villain from the first one, too. "Okay, I'm ready. Which level do you wanna play?"
Button heard more coughing and two female voices speaking, along with a slight beep. "Dad, am I on speaker?"
On the other end, Slam chuckled again. "Speaker? No, of course not. Why would I do that?"
Button felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. "Is anypony else there, listening? Could you please say something if you are?"
No response.
"See? How about we do something simple, like 'Halberd'?"
Button went through the right menus again. When the level was done loading, his avatar was there, along with a female one, presumably the Sorceress character. "Dad, why are you playing a girl?"
"Because the owner of this account is a girl, of course, one that’s got more stuff unlocked. Now watch how it's done. I'm gonna run over to the entrance where the hounds will spawn, and I'm gonna put down Frost Traps here, here, and... oh, here."
Button's character struggled to keep up. Looking at the map, he already saw the flaw in his father's plan. "Umm, dad? No offense, but you're gonna wanna set up your killbox way farther down. There's three lanes of attack coming, and the central hall's easier to barricade off. You're only gonna want to block off this passage after three waves or so, to thin them out. So, umm, I'm gonna go set up Spike Traps over there, if you don't mind."
Another chuckle came through the headset, followed by a round of heavy coughing.
"Dad? What's going on?"
Button heard a commotion on the other end. Two female voices, his dad arguing, then coughing, then sighing.
Then breathing, heavy breathing.
Slower breathing.
"Dad?"
Silence.
"Dad? Dad, what's going on? Dad?!" Button felt tears start to well up in his eyes. “Nurse? Is there a nurse nearby?”
"Hello?" One of the female voices spoke now. "Is this Button Mash I'm talking to?"
Button gulped. "Yes. Who are you?"
"Oh, you don't know me, my name's Gridlock, I’m one of your dad’s squadmates."
"Gridlock? Like a chokepoint or bottleneck?"
"Yup. Military ancestors, traffic cop parents, long story. So, your dad tells me you're a gamer, huh? You like these strategy games?"
Button bit his lip. If this mare was in dad’s squad, he had to be nice to her. He couldn’t be rude to her; his dad would kill him. "Uhuh. I like the planning. Really think hard, you know? It's easier to do when you've got it in front of you, when you can move around to think."
“You don’t get nightmares, then? Some of these games get pretty violent, and scary, with all the monsters.”
The boy shrugged, even though Gridlock wouldn’t see it. “I know. But you kill the monsters, usually. And they’re not real anyway, they’re just pixels. It’s for fun.”
“You wouldn’t wanna do it in real life, then?”
“Uh-uh. It looks pretty painful, even when it’s not real. I just wanna have fun, you know?”
"Hmm." He could hear the mare's approval ring through. "You do still read books, though, right?"
"Of course. Books are fun, too, they're just not the same as games."
"Good lad."
The Sorceress and Warmage stood face to face. The Sorceress didn’t move.
As much as Button tried to be polite, he couldn’t keep up the smalltalk much longer. "Umm, Miss Gridlock?"
"Call me Griddy."
"Griddy, why isn't my dad on anymore?" Button felt something reach for his throat and squeeze.
"He, uh, he had to get away from the screen for a little bit."
"But he's gonna be back, right?"
Silence, then a sigh.
"No. I’m sorry, but he’s not gonna come back."
The sobs that had built up finally erupted. He threw the headset off and buried his head in his arms.
"What's the matter, honey? What's wrong with Slam?" His mother yanked out the headset to put the game on speaker again. She could deal with the neighbours' complaints later.
"Hello! Kid, get back here! Hello?! Someone answer me!"
Button quickly plugged the thing back in and lowered the mike. "Yes?" He still sobbed. He made some adjustments to the settings so he could speak and his mother could still listen.
“Put your mom on.”
“This is Carrot Mash,” the mare said, speaking into the microphone on her son’s head. “What’s happened to my husband?”
“What happened to my dad?” Button asked.
A sigh came through the connection. "Okay, the truth is, your father didn't want to muck up your birthday. I know he made a big promise and everything, but I guess it can't be helped now. We were on protection duty today. Standard convoy through the savannah, capy governor, couple of pony officials, the usual. We were waylaid by chencipines."
"Chencipines?" Carrot asked.
"Like porcupines, but more dog than pig, if you catch my drift. Wild animals, but smart enough to get organised, and vicious. They’re not that bad one on one, but they can shoot their quills pretty hard, so sneak attacks can be pretty dangerous. They set up a roadblock for us.”
Button gulped. “Chokepoint to lure out the casters. Who was on cushion duty?”
Silence fell on the other end.
“You know what cushion duty is?”
Button nodded. “First unicorn to stand still to cast a spell gets turned into a pin cushion. My dad told me.”
Griddy chuckled. “Well, to answer your question, it was me. I was on cushion duty, your dad covered me. The ‘pines charged once I started pushing. We, umm, we fought'em off, the first wave. Most of them went for the convoy, not me. But then when the fight got messy, the alpha showed up and, well, alpha 'pines don't go down easy, and they hit a lot harder. Your dad, he, ah, he took a quill to the heart, at point blank range."
Button sobbed again. "No."
"Yup. He's okay, though, that's what I'm trying to tell you. You Earth ponies, you're made of sturdier stuff than us unicorns. That thing was aiming for me. Your dad saved my life taking that shot, and he got even, let me tell ya. He got that thing, good.”
"But... he's not..."
"No, kid, no. He's just tired right now, and he’s more tired from trying to put up a brave face, that’s all. Mister Pinhead over here doesn't know when to take a break, and he doesn't listen to mere nurses. He's passed out again, he’s been doing that all day after he got out of surgery. They're giving him some painkillers right now, he’ll probably be up again by tomorrow morning. He's gonna be out of it for a while now, though. And, umm…”
“What?”
Gridlock sighed. “He’s healed, but healing magic isn’t exactly, you know, perfect. So, if you could you do me a favour, Button? When your dad gets home and you give him a hug, don’t tacklehug him, would you? If you want to run or play with him, make sure he can keep up? I don’t know how much of the damage is gonna last. And he probably won’t want to admit to it, so, err…”
Button nodded and sniffled. “I understand. I’ll be careful. It’s okay if he can’t play right now.”
“Yeah, sorry. I don't think he's got any gaming in him today. Besides, looking at the traps here, I don't think he'd have done a good job at it, anyways."
Button let out a hearty laugh. "Uhuh, I always beat him in Battle for Ostoo."
He heard the sound of a laptop being moved. "I haven't played this game since last time I was home, but I think I remember how to do this one, actually."
“Y-you wanna play with me?”
“Your dad promised, and I owe him one. Besides, I want to see what the son of Slam Tilt can do when he’s got his own arsenal. Do you want me to set up the killbox for you, or do you wanna figure it out yourself?”
"Umm, I wanna figure it out myself, but I've only got the basic traps."
"Don't worry. You just say where, I'll set'em up for ya. And then we can mess up some Snorks, sound like fun?"
"Yeah."
Silence fell as the Sorceress and War Mage made their way back to the main hall.
"Don't worry about your dad, kid. He'll be back home soon, I promise. In the meantime, I'll fill in for his birthday duties. Oh, which reminds me: happy birthday, Button Mash."
"Thanks, Gridlock. Okay, looks like I'm gonna want Arrow Walls here, and I think you should start with Acid Sprayers here and here..."
Gridlock smiled to herself as Button laid out his battle plan. She tried not to smirk too much when he completely forgot about the waterways in the level, where some new enemies would spawn from. He would probably squeal with excitement once they got that far. And then they’d both die horribly, overrun by Nagas. Part of the fun.
She bit down the pain as it shot up her head.
Light dehydration, magic exhaustion, and a few scratches that had to be treated for infection. At least healing magic stopped the scarring.
She was battered and boiled, but not beaten. She hadn’t taken a quill, like some of her squadmates had.
‘Sign up today’, they said.
“Okay, I’m done,” Button said. “Ready?”
Gridlock took a long, hard look at the killbox Button had set up. Aside from the waterways he didn’t know about, he covered his bases pretty well. Not bad for a first-timer, she had to admit. Maybe Slam’s son had more strategic insight. Maybe Button got his temperament from his mother.
“Yup. We can sit back and let the traps do the killing. Just hit ‘G’ and-”
The doors at the start of the level burst open, a horde of enemies came forth to rush to their deaths.
“For the Order!” The War Mage ran forward, blunderbuss at the ready to thin out the crowds before they ever even reached the killbox.
Griddy rolled her eyes. So much for strategic insight. “Yup, you definitely got that from your father.”
The End
Author's Note
Couple of things to note here. Mostly this was written as an exercise, hence the lack of cover art, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Not perfect, but good enough.
The original concept was to write a story about technology that brought ponies together, since that's the sort of theme I enjoy seeing irl. What I've learned writing this is that this sort of theme is a very tricky thing to pull off without making it look like an advertisement. The fact of the matter is that, for clarity's sake, you have to give proper descriptions of the technology. Such descriptions are easier to follow if it resembles real life examples. So it's easy to end up sounding biased.
The main point, though, is that this scenario is something that isn't a thing, but can theoretically be a thing. It's idealised (I don't think you get wi-fi in hospitals, and normal armies are a little stricter about gaming, I'm pretty sure), but the mechanics behind it are real. We're part of a generation that knows what Steam is and how it works. If our generation has kids, we have the option of buying them gifts even if we're on the other end of the world. Doesn't matter when the game came out, doesn't matter how far you are. Technology removes the barriers. And I think that's a nice thing to consider, certainly nicer than the cynical observations of technology ruining our lives. There's ways to get old-fashioned feels in a story with modern tech, I mean. And we're likely to see more of it as time goes on.
The combat scene, also, was a practice run, because I'm in the process of writing a story with several Naruto-esque fights in it. I need to get some practice in just describing action, and I had to characterise my two leads as well.
You might be tempted to think Button Mash was named after his mom in this fic, both being named 'Mash'. But the term 'Slam Tilt' is taken from a pinball machine term, and is in fact an older equivalent of button mashing. So he was named after his dad, technically. I know Button's mom has a fandom of her own, but I'm fairly outside of the MLP fandom in general, so meh.
I do hope I don't misrepresent military folk too much here. It's only a story, there's always going to be some corners cut, but I don't mess around with people who risk their lives for a living. It's just not cool. Button thinking his dad was dead, btw, I am pretty sure that's a normal kid's reaction. They do have the worst-case scenario playing in their little heads. At least, I think so, I may be wrong.
And finally, capybaras are a real thing, the Brabansong is based on a Belgian horse breed, and phrases like "cover your 'corn'' or "cushion duty" are inspired by the popular trope of military personnel using abbreviations or colourful terms for things, like frag 'nade or fubar or whatever. Seemed appropriate.
Bonus Chapter: Clean-Up In Hangar 11
"Remind me again why we're not in Equestria right now?" Slam asked.
"The mayor of Milagro told the mayor of Slenderleaf about your bravery and then Slenderleaf City requested to borrow our services to help deal with the smuggling problem. I guess capies like pony guards," Griddy replied.
There they were, fresh out of hospital – complete with a residual whiff of disinfectant alcohol on their hides – taking a stroll through the docks of one of the capybaras' main trading hubs. Dusk had settled in, casting a red shine over the premises.
On their left, there was the water. On their right, a row of hangars, and all over the place, there was a quiet mess of crates and cranes awaiting the next undoubtedly busy day of transport.
"Of course they do. What contraband are you betting on this time? Dragon whiskers, dragon toes? Dragon's teeth? Maybe dragon noses, this time?"
Once they got to the first of the long line of hangars, Griddy cast her detection spell. Closing her eyes, her horn started flickering in green and tugging her along. "Dragon something, that's for sure. I'm getting a signal down that way, about five hundred paces. Might be part of what Flash Sentry was tracking back in Manehattan."
Slam grumbled. "So... not harvested from a dead one, then?"
Gridlock shook her head. "No, this feels... fresher. And more plentiful. It's hard to tell at this distance, but it feels like something they got off a live one, or several live ones."
"How many are we talking here? Two, three?"
"At least fifty."
Slam's ears fell back against his head. "Oh, geez. Who in their right mind even goes towards fifty dragons, let alone try to cut them?"
"Who can even manage to cut them, that's what I'd like to know. Is your arm okay? That shot you took-"
"Has healed, the doctors said. Besides, we're not expecting too much resistance here, are we? There aren't even any capies around."
"No, but it's a big place to patrol, and capies don't exactly chuck out archmages like we do in Canterlot."
"Point taken. Shall we, then?"
Griddy sighed. "You're absolutely sure you're okay?"
The Earth pony stallion chuckled. "I'm sure. Nothing's going to happen to my 'corn while I'm around."
"Good. I mean, not that I can't fend for myself, but-"
"I know. Come on, let's just get this over with, and report it once we have proof. Who knows, maybe they were kind enough to leave their stuff unguarded."
Up above, on the roof of hangar 11, three dark shapes huddled together closely.
"Poniesss," one hissed. "Why are there ponies here?"
"They have a unicorn," another remarked. "How delightful. And only one block of meat to guard her? She must be suicidal, poor thing."
"We can deal with them, Master," the third one said. "We are stronger than they are, faster."
"Yes, and we don't burst out into song every five minutes, thank goodness. You two deal with the ponies, I'll guard the cargo. Can't have our client sneak off with the merchandise before our transaction is complete."
"I mean, really, don't you think the nurses were just a little bit racist?"
"Let it go, Slam. Let it go."
"No, really. Every single time one of the guys asked for some music, the nurses were all 'Week! Week! You ponies and your singing all the time!' I mean come on!"
Griddy smiled. "Some of us do like to burst into song at random, you know. And some other species remark on that. It's not like it's a habit. Some of us find that reputation quite cool."
"Yeah, yeah, everyone's a little bit racist, okay. I'm just saying, if we had to get racial sensitivity training about their squeakiness-"
A loud crash to their right cut him off halfway a sentence.
Something rushed at them from just in front of hangar 11. Something metal. Something big.
"Griddy, get down!" Slam shoved her aside before the thing could connect with her.
Unfortunately, that didn't stop it from connecting with him. Gridlock gasped as a forklift mashed into her bodyguard at full speed and dragged him off, leaving her exposed.
"Slam!" She hopped back onto her hooves and started to run after him.
"No time to be turning your back, little pony."
"Oh, shoot." Gridlock turned just in time to duck under a slash from a most peculiar weapon. "A tessen? A blade fan?" She looked up and tilted her head in confusion at the sight of her opponent. It was definitely a capy, judging from the hips and claws, but this one was covered snout to toes in dark fabric. "A ninja? Out here? I didn't think capybaras had ninjas."
The slender black-clad, masked figure, a female from the sound of it, chuckled. "Clearly you misunderstand the concept of 'ninja'."
Gridlock growled.
"Don't worry about your friend. My colleague is a professional." The big rodent brandished her sharp fan and got out a second one from her belt. "As am I."
"Good. I'd hate to beat up someone who's not getting paid for it."
Slam Tilt had seen a lot of things in his time on the Royal Guard, and he'd been through the wringer on most of those occasions. Changeling patrols, escort duties, Timberwolf attacks, Coalwolf attacks, Cotton Candy Wolf attacks, standard stuff.
Getting hit by a forklift, though, that was new. He idly wondered if his insurance would cover that.
The Earth pony dug his hind hooves into the ground and, true to his name, slammed a front hoof down onto the forklift's prongs. In his long and constructive – or rather, destructive – career, he'd learned a good punch was usually enough to make something stop moving. He wasn't a biologist, but he knew that much about living things. He also wasn't a mechanic, but he was very happy to see some rules were universal. The forklift ground to a screeching halt in the middle of a pair of containers, clearly this whole forklift business was a set-up for some sort of bottleneck ambush.
"Ssssilly pony. Ssstupid pony."
A big, black shape dashed out of the driver's seat, before scurrying about in between the metal containers he'd been dragged towards.
Slam snorted. "And you must be a capy with a speech impediment."
"Ninja capiesss! Warp voice, conceal identity."
Slam tilted his head. "Huh. Ninja capy. You know, it's weird, I'm not even surprised. Must be Button rubbing off on me."
"You come to ssstop cargo. I come to ssstop you."
Slam stretched out his neck left and right. "Yeah, yeah, can we get this over with? I've got a unicorn I'm supposed to be covering."
The black capy jumped. "Ssstupid poniesss, always sssinging. Not martial artses."
"Oh, we have a few."
The thing rolled in mid-air and somehow managed to dash forward without any grip or wings. "Black Rat Style Thousand Kicks!"
He smirked. "Black Rat, huh? Good to know."
The stallion rose up on his hind hooves and spun, winding up the punch.
Griddy ducked under a cutting gust aimed at her head, sidestepped the one aimed at her hooves, and blocked the last one with a shielding barrier. Standard three-point combo, this girl was probably just a subordinate. "Roc feathers on your fans, huh? Do you have a permit for those?"
A whirlwind roared in reply. Griddy was already ducking behind a crane by the time it reached her. It didn't take a genius to see what the plan was: she was being herded away from Hangar 11. There was definitely something there that needed protecting.
"I'm afraid you'll just have to add that to my rap sheet, officer. Now, are you going to stop moving? I can knock you out quietly, you know. No need for any nastiness."
Gridlock concentrated. Okay, think. Roc feathers, ninja style, chances are she's a sniper type of fighter. Meaning whoever is dealing with Slam is her meat shield.
So where's the third one? Ninjas never come in twos, only threes and fives.
And why wouldn't the third one show up already?
She peeked out from behind her shelter. Her opponent was taking a low stance, a variant of Turtle Stance, from the looks of it. Going by how she moved, arms stretched out wide and her hind paws light on the ground, this was a weapons specialist, most likely Four Winds Style, maybe a little panda fighting thrown in for good measure. Nothing Griddy couldn't handle on the short range.
Actually getting into that short range without getting cut to ribbons, now that was the challenge.
She got a good look at the capy as it wound up another cutting gale.
Griddy was gone before the attack was even launched.
"What the-" The capy did a backflip to dodge the retaliation: homing pink energy bolts that exploded harmlessly on the ground.
The capy chuckled. "Not bad, not bad. And here I thought unicorns went down easy once you got their meat shield out of the way."
"I wouldn't count on that, missy. I've gone up against bigger stuff than you."
"I can imagine. That friend of yours, he's not up to full strength, though, is he? I saw him limping a little on the way here. Took a shot to the chest recently?"
Griddy growled. "Don't talk ill of him. Officer Pounder is made of sturdier stuff than you might think."
"Pounder, is it? My, such an uncharacteristically violent name. I suppose you must, with those silly pony names. Names like 'Sugarplum' don't exactly inspire fear." She spun around, flapping her fans, and Griddy had to duck and dash to evade another pair of gusts. The fans were the problem here. They both had a single red feather attached to them, bleeding a constant stream of magic into the object itself. And this girl clearly knew enough magic to use it for cutting, even if she didn't have any spells of her own. That meant Griddy couldn't afford to take a hit, and if she tried to concentrate to fire a more complicated spell, that's exactly what would happen.
"Oh, I don't know. I went to school with a Sugarplum once. Awful girl, terrifying tantrums."
The capy hissed and flung another blast at her.
Griddy wasn't too worried. The upside to that cutting wind technique? The cuts were made by air pressure, which could only be done on a small area, making it somewhat easier to dodge.
Now if she'll just stop dancing around so I can shoot her...
Slam was driven back against a container wall by the impact.
"Ssstupid pony. No sssongs now?"
"What is it with you capies and our songs?" Slam asked. "We do not break out into song that often. But if you insist, I'm more than willing to provide. Fair warning, though: my friends are into hip hop, but I'm into folk. Personal taste, what can I say?"
The capy leaped and tumbled to wind up another kick.
"So predictable," Slam said, scanning his surroundings.
The kick landed on his arm, and he had to crouch to weather the impact.
"What?" The capy managed to utter before realising its mistake.
Slam bounced back up and flung his opponent back, wasting no time in getting the airborne rodent into pummeling range. A firm hook sent the guy flying towards another metal wall, the follow-up uppercut sent him flying straight up. Slam braced himself and leaped up with a force that would have made his pegasus colleagues flinch, leaving him right above the big capybara.
"A little word of advice, Mister ninja: next time you go up against us singing ponies?"
The capy was still dazed from the impact. "G-guh..."
"Don't tryyy to kill us with a forklift~" A double-hooved hammer blow knocked the air out of the ninja. If that wasn't enough, the harsh landing on concrete finished it.
And if that didn't finish it, a hind hoof to the gut with some Earth pony weight and a good amount of gravity behind it would. The thing spat out a mix of blood and other bodily fluids, including what Slam presumed was a herbal pastille to suck on. That explained the size and strength; this guy was doped up on ninja medicine. The ninja was still breathing even after that onslaught, but without a continuing dose of those herbs, he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.
"Well, that was entertaining. Now, where's Griddy?"
"Aren't you going to try and hit me?"
Griddy smiled and galloped to the next pile of crates for cover.
A firm gust finally connected, sending her sprawling.
The capy rushed her, going into frontal flips to close the distance. "Gotcha."
She raised her arms up as Griddy fired off one last shot, dodging it easily. "Too slow."
The fans came down. Then they dropped. "Eh?"
Gridlock grinned. "Not the brightest tool in the shed, are you?"
The capy reached for her weapons, but found them stuck to the ground, along with her feet, and then her hands. She pulled up, something pulled down. She fell, and the red light of the sunset finally revealed a pinkish red substance coating the ground, almost invisible but becoming more material now.
Gridlock slowly walked over to her and lifted the fans in her magic.
"What is this stuff?" The ninja struggled against the sticky material, but it only stuck to her more.
Griddy stopped at six paces distance. "A little traffic control trick, most Royal Guards wouldn't know it. Very handy when you need to catch a hit and run culprit; even if they can get out, you can track them by the stuff on their wheels. Don't worry, it's not poisonous. It's like cotton candy, mostly, or caramel. Quite harmless. This, however, is not." She lowered her horn, took a long, deep, and undisturbed breath, and let loose.
One shot, and the ninja capy was down for the count. Griddy sighed and lifted the girl's snout, so she wouldn't choke.
"Don't tryyy to kill us with a forklift~" came a voice in the distance.
Gridlock smiled. Always the reliable one, that Slam. Clever, too, to signal her like that. If any enemies were still around, they'd think it mere taunting.
And they'd be drawn to the noise. Drawn to him. Slam Tilt was probably done with the forklift driver. If he wanted to draw fire away from Gridlock, he'd done all he could.
Nothing for it; she'd have to check the hangar. "Now, what is so important that you ninjas have to show for it?”
She went in, into the dark, and looked around. Just the usual standard crates, from the looks of it.
"Impressive."
Griddy's body tensed. "And there's number three."
She turned, and sure enough, there was another capy sitting on a beam overhead. She scanned her surroundings to try and assess the situation: crates, support beams, smaller area to work with, less room to dodge.
"Who are you?" Gridlock asked.
"A shinobi, the master of the two who attacked you. And you?"
"You can call me 'officer'. If you want a name, my handle is Traffic Control."
He rose up on his hind paws. "Traffic Control? An alias to remember. Not a lot of ponies can outdo one of my students."
"And I'm guessing you have a substantial sample size backing up that extensive research?"
The ninja capy grumbled something under his breath. "I suppose that's a fair point. May I ask, do you have any relatives?"
"We make it a point to be unrecognisable when we can, sir. Wouldn't want any unsavoury characters going after our kin."
"Of course not. I only ask because I'd send them a card, as a small post-murder courtesy."
Gridlock braced herself. He hadn't moved yet, she didn't sense any magic projecting out from him, so whatever this guy was going to do, it'd be in melee range or require him drawing his weapons first. But in a place like this, long weapons would be clumsy, and against a pony like Griddy, short weapons were risky. He must have known that much if he saw that cotton candy tar trap.
So why would he stay in here for so long? Why is he stalling? What's his angle?
With hardly time to blink, he was down. She barely managed to duck away from the impact of him slamming into the ground before he bounced back up and hit the ceiling. He was curled up into a ball, and his whole body seemed to squash and stretch like it was one soft mass, rather than a living creature with bones.
That answers that question, then. Armadillo-style fighting, probably on a steady diet of devilfruits, too.
The ball of rodent ninja master bounced and dashed across the hangar.
He's using the walls to keep his speed up. If I can get him outside-
A hard impact to her face stopped her train of thought. One second he was in the back of the hangar, the next he had his whole body slamming into her.
The capy rolled over the wall on her left and leaped for another attack. Griddy jumped aside just in time to stop her head from being splattered all over the floor.
"You'll have to pardon me if I try to finish this quickly, my dear. It's not that I don't appreciate the company, it's just that I don't have time for your pony songs."
Again with the songs. These capies really were racist.
Griddy fired a bolt at him, one that bored straight through the roof. He never stayed still long enough for her to get a shot, but that didn't stop her. She tried to run towards the exit, but he herded her away with one bounce on the floor and another on a nearby beam.
As he came in over the floor, rolling towards her in a straight line, she cast her traffic control spell again. He went over it, got covered in the pink stuff. And then he shook it off like water and mashed into her.
She had the air knocked out of her, but she was still standing. She could still shoot.
A Royal Guard unicorn has one duty and one duty alone: cast the spell to save the day.
"Rrraaah!" She let fly a furry of bolts, all homing, all missing.
When the dust settled, she panted with exertion.
The capy chuckled. "Goodness. And here I thought I was dealing with a challenge. You ponies are terrible shots. No wonder the changelings beat you."
Griddy's ears twitched. She smirked. "I wasn't trying to hit you."
Another jump, another attack.
Thump.
Right on cue, a massive Earth pony hoof went into that black ball of ninja fluff and sent it flying.
"I was signalling my partner."
The capy unfurled from his protective ball and hissed. "You think an Earth pony can stop me? Please. I'm immune to your tricks, unicorn, and my technique renders me invincible in melee combat. I can move faster than the naked eye and bring my whole body to bear against you. I can crush you from angles you don't even realise are there, let alone defend against. What hope do you have?"
"A bouncing capy, huh?" Slam asked. "This should be interesting."
The capy lunged, only to be met with a straight jab from Slam. A quick retreat and a bounce off a nearby support beam, and Slam swatted the guy out of thin air. Another bounce straight up, some quick dashes to pick up speed, and down he went again, fast enough to blur.
Thunk!
A double hammer blow to the head finished it. The capy stumbled back on all fours. "H-how... my technique... no one can see through my motions..."
Slam Tilt smirked. "What can I say? I may not be a unicorn, but I am a bit of a pinball wizard. I can read you like a shiny box."
"I-I'm not... done..."
Slam rolled his eyes, calmly walked up to ninja master and kicked him in the gut. After a brief flight across the hangar, the last of the ninja capies went still. "Okay, now you're done. You okay, Griddy?"
"I'm fine, thank you. What did you do with the forklift driver?"
"Tied him up, knocked him into next Tuesday. Well, not in that order. That girl come after you?"
Gridlock nodded. "Yup. Carrying roc feathers on her fans, too. These are definitely our smugglers."
Slam gestured to the boxes in the hangar. "Shall we see what they are smuggling, then?"
Griddy cast her detection spell again and followed the pull to a box marked 'Acme Pharma.'
"Well, that's not suspicious at all," Slam remarked, before opening the thing up. "And today's contraband is... dragon skin?"
The contents of the box were an odd sight: tiny little snippets of what looked like smooth pink fabric, each no bigger than a child’s tooth.
Griddy blinked, just as confused as Slam was. "I don't get it. My spell is clearly detecting dragon material. This is dragon skin. But it's... pink." She picked some up in her magic. "And in very small pieces, too."
Slam sat back. "Where do you suppose they got this?"
Griddy shrugged. "I have no idea. I didn't know dragons even had skin like this."
"Did they peel the scales off, maybe?"
"No, there'd be bigger pieces, then. And if they could do that, they wouldn’t need to get it off so many of them. Could be from a breed we don't know about." She shuddered. "Let's just report this, get the authorities in here, get the ninjas to jail. Let the experts figure out which dragon parts these are. I'm sure someone's willing to pay good money for whatever this is, and they should answer for it."
"So, now we can go back to Equestria?" Slam cringed as a wave of pain shot through him. He clutched at his chest and let his left arm hang limp.
"Careful, Slam. You're still not back to your old self."
"Maybe I should put some dragon skin on, see if that helps."
"Eww, Slam. You don't know where that stuff's been."
Author's Note
This didn't turn out to be the fight-centric chapter I'd hoped for, but it did end up teaching me some things about fight scenes and how to fill them up and make them interesting. Not entirely happy with all of the scenery descriptions, but given how long I've promised this, I figured it was time to publish.
Things of note: the capies being racist about the songs is indeed a chapter-wide joke, and yes, there are quite a few references to songs in this. If you're used to my style of writing, you can probably tell which songs. See if you can find them all... and guess which one is the central one, the whole reason I added the gag in the first place. Slam Tilt, again, is named after a pinball term, so I wanted to play that up at least once. A ninja with bouncing powers was the most obvious answer. The aliases, I added because it seemed kind of silly/stupid to tell a ninja assassin your real name.
It's interesting to think about, too, I'm not sure I ever described Gridlock's or Slam's cutie marks. Their names just lend themselves to a few obvious ones, and it's never necessary to detail. Turtle Stance is taken from Udyr, from League of Legends, it will pop up in my next big fic. Rocs, you'll probably know best from Aladdin, the animated series. First episode I ever saw of that (might have been first episode, period) involved roc feathers being used for weapons. A roc is a giant bird, btw, you can find danger signs with that in Italy: 'Warning: Roc Breeding Ground'. The tourists don't really get the joke. Even my tour guide thought it was just an endangered bird and we shouldn't tread on its nest. *sigh*
What are the ninjas smuggling? Well, dragons have scaly hides all over, they don't have pink skin anywhere, so it's left up to interpretation. I mean, the very idea that there would be criminals looking to harvest the skin of dragons is horrifying enough, and this fic needs to maintain its rating.
