Scootaloo's Demise: Chapter 1
Scootaloo's Demise
By Derpyhooves15
Scootaloo Cocked her ear and shuffled slowly up to the large oak door of the orphanage office. As she moved ever closer, the voices of the 2 Ponies inside became clearer and clearer and she could hear that one Pony was excited and jittery, but the other pony, Mrs Hop Field, her carer to be precise, was nervous. Slyly, Scootaloo Pressed her ear up to the thin, cold, door and Listened to the conversation Within.
"Scootaloo is such a lovely pony Mrs Hop Field, and I'm sure with my skills i can teach her to fly in no time. Bit curious though about her not being airborne by now, most fillies are zipping around by now, like that girl Rainbow Dash. Why i saw her flying at the age of 6."
The pony speaking was another potential Adoptive Parent come to the orphanage, Scootaloo was always a gem in there eyes, but here Scootaloo stood, listening to two ponies deciding her future.
"Well yes, it is quite unusual she can gain enough air to power that scooter of hers, but i just havent seen much development. She's desperate to fly, the poor dear." rang out Mrs Hop Field
"Where did you say she came from again?"
Scootaloo's tensed up.
"No, no, no! Don't tell her Mrs Hop Field. Please!" Murmured Scootaloo in anguish, for this was the point she dreaded. This was always where things went wrong.
There was a Moments silence On the Other side of the door as Mrs Hop Field considered what to say.
"Mrs Hop Field?"
"Coltnobyl" came a quite response
"Excuse me, what did you say?"
Fear bubbled in both Ponies voices at the mention of the name
"Scootaloo came from Coltnobyl, in The Hoofkrain"
"I take it...."
there was a moments Awkward silence and Scootaloo screamed inside
".....from, before the Accident"
"She's a type one victim"
That was it. Scootaloo new that no one wanted her after this was said. She didn't even know what it meant. Whenever she asked about it, ponies wanted nothing to do with it. When they found out she was a "type one victim", they wanted nothing to do with her. A chair shuffled inside the room and hard hooves clattered on the floor. Scootaloo, rushed across the stone floor, wings fluttering as she went in an attempt to gain some lift. As usual, none came. She skidded to a halt and dropped onto her flank. She started drawing in the dust as the door opened. The potential adoptive parent stormed through the office door and made to turn down the corridor when she caught sight of the orange filly. Scootaloo looked up, tears starting to make their way down her face. The Pony recoiled, fear in her eyes.
"Sorry." She said, but there was no effort of comforting tone behind it. With that she turned and hastily made her way out of the door. Scootaloo watched the place where the pony had been until she heard the door slam. She kicked the floor, sending up a small plume of dust. Looking behind her she saw 3 or 4 other Orphaned Fillies staring at her from the shadows.
"Go away!" Screamed Scootaloo, her voice cracking under her tears. With that the Fillies turned and ran, dust being kicked up from their hooves.
"Scootaloo, be calm dear" Came the soothing voice of Mrs Hop Field. But Scootaloo would not be calmed, it was all that old ponies fault in her mind.
"NO!" she shrieked. "Its your Fault! Its always your fault! I'm going to be here forever because of you, why cant you lie for once? Then they might think your normal, they don't need to know that I'm a type one victim. I don't even know what it means, but cant you just not tell them...cant.....cant....ca...." With this Scootaloo started to cry harder. It was always the same, those 3 words. Scootaloo hated them, they had ruined her chances of a normal life so many times, and she was fed up of it.
"Scootaloo dea-"
"STOP CALLING ME DEAR!"
"Scootaloo, i have to tell them about where your from, otherwise it not fair on them. They need to know."
This statement struck her hard, even if it was supposed to make things better. She stopped sobbing.
"What!? Its not fair on them? What about me? You never tell me what it means, or whats so special about Coltnobyl and why I'm a victim. There is nothing wrong with me."
"Your to young to understand darling, its a subject for grownups. Of course there is nothing wrong with you, some ponies are just afraid of what happened"
Scootaloo could just not comprehend how stupid this old pony was being.
"But why are they afraid? What happened?" There were no longer undertones of sadness in her voice, but a seething rage which could not be contained.
"You wont understand dear."
Thats was it, she couldn't take anymore of these stupid excuses.
"JUST TELL ME YOU OLD HAG!"
It took a while for what she had just said to be realized, by Mrs Hop Field, but even Scootaloo
"Room. Now." Mrs Hop Field was calm but commanding. Scootaloo, still writhing in anger, spun round and skulked towards the stairs to the upper floor. She saw movement, blurred by tears as other orphans scattered before her. Her wings fluttered as she began to climb the stairs. Scootaloo crossed the the landing, and entered her room kicking the door closed behind her.
Scootaloo took her head out of the pillow and looked around her room. She had no idea how long it had been since she had yelled at her carer, but it was now dark. She slipped from her bed and crossed the room to switch the light on. With a short buzz and flicker, the room was bathed in a dull light. She threw her self onto the bed, wings swiping frantically in the hope she could gain some air. They failed her once again and she face planted into the mattress. Scootaloo moaned and sat up. She looked at her room. It wasn't particularly impressive and was largely bare due to her lack of any real possessions. There was a Ball and her helmet, sat on the floor next to her blue scooter, and on her shelf were a book on flying and a small collection of her preened feathers. Next she looked at her least favorite thing, which she kept just for its role it played in her life. On the wall, hanging in the shadowy corner was an old blanket and paper tag. This was what she was found in apparently. She was told that during some accident in Coltnobyl she was evacuated. No one really knew how it happened, but she ended up in the back of a mail cart in Ponyville, with only a rough blanket, and a paper tag. The tag read:
SCOOTALOO
TYPE 1 VICTIM
EFFECTS UNKNOWN
The anger welled inside Scootaloo again and she lept of her bed and landed a firm kick on her scooter. She cringed and looked down at her now bleeding hoof. She slipped into bed, and welcomed its embrace.
Scootaloo pawed at her breakfast, turning it around the plate. The events of the night before plagued her mind, not helped by the looks of fear from some of the younger fillies and colts, disgust from the more mature orphans and disappointment from Mrs Hop Field who sat at the end of the table staring at the orange filly. Scootaloo sat alone, the nearest pony being for seats down from her. She could hear them muttering. Some about how horrid she was to the pony which looked after her. Other's showing mild sympathy for her, after all, she had been there longer than them all. But Mostly, she heard the usual snide comments about either her background, or her not being able to fly. One colt bucked up the courage to call out "Standaloo". It was a terrible nickname, even by dumb pony standards, but it still stung. Scootaloo Pushed her plate away and got up from the table. It was always this way for her. Whatever seemed like the most important thing in her mind, others always saw her lack of flight as the weirdest thing. She stormed out of the room.
Once again Scootaloo was sat on her bed, pouting about her life. She looked at her scooter, it made her sad. It was always the same, sure, when she was on the scooter she was damn near the second fastest pony in Ponyville.But when she looked at it, it reminded her that she couldn't fly and this was what brought her into her lowest points. She could easily put up with not having a cutie mark, loads of ponies didn't have them in Ponyville. The "type 1 victim" thing rarely upset her, it was only important when some pony came round and took an interest in her. But the lack of flight, it was a constant evil fact of her life. Everywhere she went, everything she did, her wings would flit about on her back, churning at the air in a hopeless attempt to lift her young body. Most ponies her age were flying easily, some were even making stuff of legends, such as her Idol, Rainbow Dash. She wanted to fly, she wanted to fly now, maybe then she could be normal in some ponies eyes.
She looked over the cliff, then up across the lake below. It was perfect, here she could try to fly. She had read of young foals being able to fly in desperate situations, they just needed the kick off escaping a predator, or falling of a cliff. Scootaloo reckoned that if she failed to fly, she could just lock her wings and glide into the water, there was only a small piece of beach below, she would be easily able to clear it. She was confident, she was strong, but mostly she was fueled with rage and sadness. She knew she could do this. She would show every pony. Scootaloo went some distance back from the edge of the cliff, and cracked her joints and stretched her wings, giving her thats feel of power and strength. She charged forward, hooves churning up the soft ground. She neared the edge, her wings started to churn, she could feel them beating hard, she felt lift. Scootaloo jumped. she lifted from the ground and hung in the air over the edge of the cliff. Looking down, she panicked. Her wings flailed and the air was dumped from under them. She turned onto her back and started to fall. She spread her wings out, but they just buckled under the force of the air. Scootaloo screeched as she plummeted toward the sand below. With a deafening crunch, she hit the ground, and fell silent.
Her eye opened slowly. Everything was blurred, the sand and lake were mixed in one with the, now night, sky. She felt a dull pain in her back, and her body ached. She tried to open her other eye but was met with searing pain and a small trickle of warm liquid rolled onto her cheek. She lifted her foreleg to her cheek and wiped away the liquid. She could smell blood, her blood. she moved her head and studied her body. One wing was tucked under body, where it ached but did not seem damaged. But her other wing was crumpled at a strange angle on her back. She flexed the muscles and found that it didn't hurt. But it it didn't move. Panicked, she tried to roll over only to be met with an agonizing pain in her back and the bloodcurdling sound of bone grinding upon bone. She tried to kick her rear legs but they wouldn't move, nor would her tail. She panicked, tears rolled from her working eye and she began to hyper ventilate. She flailed around, trying to move, but was met only by pain and resistance. She wailed, screaming at the top of her lungs, closing her good eye, trying with all her might to fight the pain and move. The sand underneath her ran wet with blood from her wing and eye. Scootaloo kicked her forelegs, churning up blood red sand.
"Help! HELP! HEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!"
She hollered in desperation, her throat gargling and contorting the sounds into a crescendo of agonizing noise. Scootaloo, stopped kicking, she shivered and curled her working legs into her body, securing as much warmth as she could. She felt cold, and the pain was dulling. Her eye flitted about, searching for help, not believing where she was. Her mind screamed at her, telling her she was stupid, rejected and broken. She was a broken pony. Her vision began to blur. The sky spun and the water boiled. Blackness swirled in her mind, her thoughts being swallowed. As her eye closed and darkness enveloped her. She heard the sound of an explosion, a train and the orphanage door in her head. Her eye flitted open one last time, long enough to see the silhouette of Mrs Hop Field up on the cliff, shouting with all her might at the orange filly.
Scootaloo's Demise: Chapter 2
chapter 2
Scootaloo snapped her eyes open. She was looking up at a brilliantly white ceiling constructed of plaster tiles and metal framework. There were two long strip lights above where she lay and they spread brilliant light onto her surroundings. It took mere moments to remember what happened, the fall, the crunch, the pain and the end. Slowly she lifted her head and examined her predicament. She was lying in a hospital bed in a small room. In front of her was a white door, with a blue curtain across the window. To her left was a bed side table. On the table were numerous cards and a selection of flowers. To her right stood a machine covered with buttons and lights, a small arm drew a line on a piece of moving paper. From the machine came wires and tubes. she followed these tubes. Scootaloo jerked her body then winced in pain as she smacked her head on the iron headboard. Her lower body was encased in an intricate weave of shining metal, held together with chunky bolts. Hundreds of pins were pushing into her skin and they were topped with small wing nuts all set in various combinations. she looked up her body to her wings. One wings was wrapped in gossamer bandages which were clean and fresh. Her other was encased in a hunk of plaster and was held in a network of metal struts which pinned it to the soft mattress. Into her chest ran tubes and wires, held in place by strips of surgical tape. Running between the tubes was line of stitches, running from the base of her left wing to her right. The stitches were surrounded by a patch of shaved skin. Scootaloo remembered her bleeding eye and groped with her aching foreleg for a mirror on the bedside table. She studied her face. One of her eyes was normal, but the other was bloodshot and irritant. She closed the eyelid and saw a Network of intricate stitches, making her eyelid seem like a patchwork blanket. Her hair was shorter than it used to be but it was also neater. Some pony had been caring for her. Scootaloo began to look around for some means of contacting a nurse but could not see even a bell.
"Hello? Is there anypony around?"
Her voice was hoarse and her throat dry but clearly somebody heard her. From outside she could hear the clop of hooves on the tiled floor. The door swung open slowly. In the door way stood a lime green pony with a shimmering blue mane. She wore a small, white and rounded nurses cap on her head.
"Hello young lady. Finally awake i see. Are you feeling ok?"
Scootaloo new this was the question everypony was asked when they woke up for the first time, of course she wasn't ok, half her body was encased in metal and plaster, the rest covered in stitches. Scootaloo answered a stupid question with another stupid question.
"Where am I?"
"Canterlot hospital" rang out the nurses soothing voice.
Huh, what was she doing in Canterlot. She knew she was in hospital, that much was obvious, but she did not expect to be so far away from the orphanage.
"What am i doing in Canterlot? I crashed in Ponyville."
The nurse expression turned from a calming smile to a more serious, business face.
"The extent of your injuries were to great for Ponyville general. You were carried to Canterlot in a high speed carriage and were taken into surgery straight away. You were lucky to make it, but the surgeons managed to save your life. Your spine was broken and your legs were paralyzed from the accident. Lucky for you one of princess Celestia's own students was on a visit to the hospital at the time, i believe you know her as Twilight Sparkle?. Anyway, she overheard the situation and proposed that she attempted an experimental nerve binding spell to attempt to re-mobilize your legs. It worked and we secured your legs and lower body to allow the bones and nerves to heal fully. We repaired your wing and eyelid and stabilized you in a magic induced coma. Its been around three weeks since you fell. "
Scootaloo took a few minutes to take everything the rambling nurse said, but she still was mesmerized by one thing.
"Why did you operate on my chest?"
The nurse reeled back slightly for no apparent reason. She was evidently nervous and she backed into the corridor looking from side to side for help.
"I'm not at liberty to say. Mrs Hop Field is making a visit later today. That information falls under her jurisdiction. Now, I'm a very busy Pony. Is there anything else you want before i go?"
Scootaloo was livid. They had cut into her chest for no apparent reason, and they wouldn't tell her why.
"Yes, you can tell me why you cut into my chest." Said Scootaloo as she watched the nurse shuffle away. With this the nurse walked quickly from the doorway and let the door swing shut behind her. Once again Scootaloo was cut of by somepony she didn't know. Somepony, she didn't know.
"SCOOTALOO!"
She snapped her eyes open and jerked her head up. Before her stood her two best friends, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. They were stood at the end of her bed smiling with delight and excitement to see there friend awake, but more so alive.
"Guys? What are you doing here?"
"We came here with Mrs Hop Field when she got the message that you were awake now" Said Applebloom.
"Is it true you fell 100ft?" Inquired Sweetie Belle in her usual dumb but cute tone of voice.
"err, yeh, i fell pretty far."
Scootaloo was uneasy. Her friend's were quite happy to see her but she didn't really want to talk to them about what she did. She nearly died and it was stupid. She new now her legs worked and her wing was fixed that things could go back to normal and she could forget the incident.
"Girls, would you step outside for a moment"
Mrs Hop Field walked through the door and smiled at Scootaloo.
"Why?" Chanted all three fillies in chorus, followed by giggles for there sync.
"I need to speak to Scootaloo in private, it will only be for a few minutes"
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle hung there heads as they ambled out the door.
"Mrs Hop Field, I'm sorry for-" Started Scootaloo, but Mrs Hop Field cut her off
"Now now, whats done is done, but there is something i need to talk to you about. I take it you've noticed the stitches on your chest."
"Yeh, the nurse wouldn't tell me about it and looked really scared, is it something bad."
"No my dear, but I think its time i tell you about what type one victim means."
Scootaloo ears pricked up and her eyes opened wide. Finally she would now what happened.
"In Coltnobyl, where you came from, there was an accident. They were experimenting with new ways to make power and they devised a way to harness a dangerous magic called magicka. Anyway, there was an accident and one of the conversion chambers exploded releasing all the magicka into the air, earth, and ponies. Some Ponies far away received little magicka and just suffered a rise in illness, these were type three victims. ponies closer to Coltnobyl suffered from serious illness and some birth defects, these were type two victims. And ponies who lived in Coltnobyl, like you, received enough magicka to mutate and deform there internal organs. These were of course, the type one victims. Type three and type two victims were evacuated from the area and treated for there illness's, but the government felt that type one victims were a danger to uneffected ponies and so they were sent off on separate trains to isolated camps where they lived out the rest of their days. You got lost in the confusion dear, you were somehow placed on a cargo train at a transit that was bound for Equestria, and Ponyville."
Scootaloo was baffled, all this time she should have been dying in a camp. She understood why nopony wanted her now, they were afraid of what the government said about type one victim's.
"So.....I'm dangerous?" inquired Scootaloo, suddenly sounding scared and confused
"No dear, it was hysteria."
"Huh?"
"Hype dear." laughed Mrs Hop Field
"But, whats this got to do with the stitches in my chest?" Asked a now utterly confused Scootaloo
"Well, when they were reconnecting the bio-hydraulics in your wings to the flight drum-"
"The what?"
"The thing which gives you the required balance and magic for flight dear" Replied Mrs Hop Field, slightly impatient from the interruptions.
"They found out that the magicka had mutated and deformed your flight drum, so they performed a transplant from a cadaver."
"And all of this means.....?" Asked an also impatient Scootaloo
"Scootaloo, you will be able to fly"
Scootaloo's Demise: Chapter 3
Scootaloo's Demise: Chapter 3
Scootaloo's head was a pot and her levels of excitement were boiling over. It has been 3 months to the day she woke up in hospital, encased in metal and plaster. Over this time, things had become considerably better for her. After her wing was fixed and her eye healed, the plaster and stitches were removed and the scars hidden with magic. She received letters every other day from her friends and even a letter from Rainbow Dash offering her help finding her wings, of course Scootaloo said yes. But today was something special. At the end of her bed were three ponies. One a doctor and the other two nurses. On a tray beside them was various tools and devices, all laid out in shining rows.
"Ok Scootaloo, todays your big day. It's been long enough for your bones and nerves to heal, so we're going to remove the brace." said a cheery nurse. Scootaloo beamed back at her fluttering her healthy wings in anticipation. The Ponies took this as the sign to go ahead. One by one, the pins holding her legs in place were removed and the small holes that were left in her skin were sealed with magic. Once all the pins were out, they began on the brace itself.
"There we go, all done." said the same cheery nurse
Scootaloo made to move but before she could so much as sit up, she was stopped by the strong hoof of the doctor.
"Take it slow, your legs will be stiff and you will have lost some muscle from staying still so long."
She gave a nod to show she understood and slowly brought her self to a sitting position. She moved her right hoof slowly. The doctor had been right, her legs felt weak and feeble. With care she slowly turned her self till she was sat on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling just above the floor. One hoof crept down and with a reassuring clop, touched the cold tiles. The other hoof joined and together they rested on the floor. Scootaloo began to shift her weight onto her legs but they buckled. She hit the floor with a loud smack and ended up sprawled on her back. The ponies rushed to assist her, but she raised her foreleg, telling them she was ok. Everything and everyone was silent as she used her wings and forelegs to roll over onto her belly. With one hoof hanging onto the bed for support, she slowly stood up. Her knees were shaking from the sudden weight after so long of being unused. With great care, Scootaloo took a step forward, followed by another, and another. It took some getting used to, but soon Scootaloo was happily trotting around the room, her wings standing high and a smile on her face. She was back to normal, but then she remembered she was better. Her thoughts turned to flying. She was eager to get home and give her wings a go, to see Rainbow Dash who would teach her to fly. She turned to the doctor and nurses and thanked them for making her better, before trotting of to the waiting room to send a message to Mrs Hop Field.
Scootaloo spent the rest of the day walking, trotting, cantering and galloping around the hospital, much to the dismay of the staff. But now she was sat in the waiting room, watching the door, awaiting Mrs Hop Fields arrival. It was much to her surprise then, when in walked a familiar Grey Pegasus, with bubbles on her flank.
"Hello Scootaloo, I've been sent to accompany you home on the train." Said Derpy. Her voice was slurred, as usual, but she sounded sad.
"But what about Mrs Hop Field, she was supposed to take me home?"
Derpy's shoulders and wings drooped as she began to speak,
"There was an accident at the orphanage and Mrs Hop Field fell down the stairs. She was taken to hospital but it was to late."
Scootaloo stared at the Grey Pegasus. She couldn't believe it, it had to be some sort of mistake. The warmth and strength drained from Scootaloo, and her newly recovered legs buckled. She found herself on the floor, tears running from the corners of her eyes. She thought this was her new start on life, she though now she could be given a chance to live as a normal pony, she had felt happy, but now she lay in a heap on the floor, sobbing into her foreleg, no better off than when she nearly died.