Blade Runner: 友谊是魔术

by ThePianoMan

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Thriller, Science Fiction, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 4297

Tracer is a bounty hunter that hunts down rogue androids that hide among the remaining residents of the planet.

Some time in the future, nuclear fallout from the Coda Wars have wiped out entire species across the planet. The ponies and other residents, that remain on-world, own pet machines that were created by Pexus, a robotics corporation. The Pexus corporation also makes sythetic equestrian companions (SEC's) for off-world colonies. These "androids" are banned from the Equstian Republic, the Reorganized Gryphon Democracy, and basically the entirety of the main planet.

Tracer is a bounty hunter hired and paid to track down and "retire" any rogue and dangerous SEC androids that are hiding in plain sight.

Inspired by the novel by Philip K. Dick and the movie adaptation "Blade Runner."

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-01-16 01:00:32 UTC

One Retirement For Another

“Next!” The young colt at the incinerator controls watched as a broad shouldered unicorn stepped forward onto the viewing platform while the mechanized burn chamber emptied the ashes from the previous funeral. “Here for the last one or the next one?”

“The next one.” The unicorn twisted his neck a bit to stretch his neck as he brushed the rain off of his trench coat.

“Well, good. You’d a been late if you was here to see the last guy,” the young colt laughed, “he wasn’t much of a looker anyway.” At the flip of a switch a barcoded box slid down into the burn chamber. The colt activated the scanner which brought the identification of the boxed body onto a small CRT monitor. “Serial number NX-01968, Female, age twenty something, name,” the colt squinted at the small screen as he tried to make out the name.

“Iris,” the unicorn nodded his head in confirmation, “her name was Iris.”

“Knew her then?” The colt hit a button that activated sprayers which dowsed the cardboard body box in a flammable solution.

“She was my wife.” The unicorn was very nonchalant with this statement. He saw a picture of his wife on the screen, but the crystal pegasus body that was sitting in the incinerator was not the same pegasus he’d married.

“Oh, sorry about that.” The colt pressed another button which halted the sprayers. “How’d she die?”

The unicorn snorted a bit before he muttered, “Overdose. I was bringing home a sheep I had just bought when I found her body.”

“Really? Huh, we don’t get many clean ones like that. Most of the time, they’re jumpers. It’s nice to get a little variety. Know what I mean.” The unicorn thought over this comment from the Colt. It was strange that death was so common to a child, but then again, that’s kind of expected in a city like Ponyville. “A sheep you say? Is it real?” The unicorn gave the colt a stern look. “Sorry, I know it’s not appropriate to ask, I was just curious. I had a rabbit myself, but it was stolen by some idiots who thought it was real.”

The unicorn was surprised by this. “Most wouldn’t admit whether their animal is fake or not.”

“I mean, it was sad in all,” the colt would admit that much, “but I just tinkered with my mood controller until my parents settled on eventually getting us a snake.”

“You have a mood controller,” the unicorn asked.

“Yeah, don’t you.” The colt hit the ignition switch for the incinerator.

“Yeah.” The unicorn looked back to the burn chamber as the pur of the fire jets grew. “She used it more than I did.”

A shield popped up to protect their eyes from the intense blue light that lit up the burn chamber. The silhouette of the box was still visible through the light shield as the flames reduced it to a pile of ash. “Well, at least she’ll be good for making new fertilizer for the vertical orchards. Say, what’s your name mister?”

“Tracer, just tracer.”

*****

a week ago…

Tracer woke up to the merry little chirping of the rotary alarm clock that sat on the side table next to his bed. He was amazed that he was actually awake with little to no effort in this way. Usually it took the mood controller to get him up this early. Looking over to the other side of the bed, he could see his wife, Iris, fiddling with the mood controller. She was struggling because of the fact that her hooves weren’t very good at manipulating the small controls. “Need help with that.”

“Keep your stinking cop’s magic away from my controller.” Everyday Tracer swore his wife was getting addicted to that little device.

“We’ve been over this. I’m not a cop, and before you say it, I’m not a murderer either.” Tracer hated discussing his occupation with his wife. She usually held a negative opinion, yet, she would always take a great satisfaction in spending the “blood money” that Tracer earned. “You okay? Your crystal coat looks a little pale.”

“That’s why I’m trying to pick out a setting on my controller.” Iris always took time to make sure she was in a good mood that would make her crystal fur shine with that extra sparkle. Tracer remembered the job that led him to Iris’ struggling town that sprung up from the ruins of the crystal empire. He had been chasing a an android made to look a young dragon, a particularly nasty model that could breath fire. Tracer had just pulled his blaster out to retire the android before it could torch Iris who happened to walk into its path. Tracer remembered the sparkle the crystal pony that had caught his eye. However, the last time he saw her sparkle that way was their wedding day.

“What seems to be the problem?” Tracer called back to Iris as he looked into the mirror at his dark brown face that was slightly covered by his auburn mane.

“I don’t feel like setting the controller to a particular mood.” Iris looked up at Tracer as she sidled up to Tracer.

“Why don’t you put in setting number 3?” Tracer was about to input it for her when she yanked the controller out of his reach.

“No! That stimulates my mood into wanting to put in a setting!” Iris shuffled back onto the bed and punched in a setting. “My coat is going grey and my mane has lost its luster,” Iris said very melancholy. She looked to her husband. “You have green eyes.” She frowned. “Why can’t I have green eyes. Well, I could, but they wouldn’t be natural.”

“Did you set it to 382 again?” Tracer hated that setting. It was the depression setting, to be put simply. Even if if she set it to have an automatic cut off, Tracer didn’t believe it was healthy for her, at all.

“I’ll do with my settings what I like. Here.” Iris pulled off the cuff that connected her to the controller and put it on Tracer. “104. That should do.” Trace felt his mood lightened to a calmer, accepting, and more motivated state.

Tracer smiled at his wife. “I’ll go tend to the pig.”

“You still taking care of that bucket of bolts?” Iris loved their wedding gift at first, but over time it began to deteriorate a bit and lost her affection.

“Actually, I was thinking of buying a sheep. I know how much you liked seeing them in the Pexus shop windows.” Tracer started to get himself ready to head outside. He pulled on the harness that held up the lead codpiece to protect his loins from the radiation. The air filter shields didn’t reach the top of the roof of his apartment. Just for extra precaution, Tracer pulled on his respirator as well.

“You know me so well.” Iris gave a wry smile. “I don't think I shall live much longer if I don't get that sheep.” With that, she pulled the covers over her face and slept.

Tracer switched on the speaker in his respirator. “Don't be too overdramatic.

*****

After leaving the mortuary, Tracer headed further into town. The dark sky was looming over the city. It was a lot safer to travel the streets of Ponyville city as of late. After the Pexus corporation purchased the old castle they set up air filter shields that went up ten stories. The shields were the only thing that separated the inhabitants from the radioactive rain and fallout that still filled the sky. The sun wasn't out. In fact, the sun hadn't been out in a long time. Tracer remembered seeing the sun, but he was barely a colt then. The historical town hall came into Tracer’s sight.

The building had been repaired and modified so many times that there was no telling how much of the original was left. There was white faced pony advertising the off-world colonies across the giant display screens at the top of the town hall.

Tracer used to know the name that matched the face, but he remembered reading the article that talked a lot about her and her sisters that advertised the different off-world colonies. Supposedly they were descendants to one of the old elements of harmony. Tracer didn't believe in the elements. They'd been gone for a long time. A lot of things changed after the Coda Wars. The town hall though, was one thing that had remained.

Tracer made his way inside the town hall which was bustling in activity.

All around were mobile shops and stations that come and go. Each shop sported a neon signature, titled in ponese, that lit up the Their vendors had paid fees to acquire their respected spots for business. One shop in particular was Tracer’s favorite. It was a noodle stand that had such good business that it usually stayed in the same spot. Items and appliances had build up over time. A set of stools had been set up for customers that liked to eat directly after getting their purchased meals. The stand seemed so static with it’s lengthy presence that any uninformed traveler would laugh at the sight of the deflated tires beneath the stand that had all but rotted away. The neon sign above read 乔的面条.

“Joe, the usual.” Tracer had asked the owner about the unusual name name he carried. Joe said he came from a long line of Joes that had all been in the food business. Some of his old family recipes still existed on the specials menu. The most noticeable remnant of Joe’s past family recipes was an acrylic case that featured an assortment of donuts. “What’s with the flyers?”

Joe looked up from his work and gestured his helping hand to take over cooking. “Oh, those are from sponsors. If this keeps up, I’m likely to get that permit to have this stand here bolted down permanently.”

“That must be nice.” Tracer picked up a stray flyer that wasn’t like the rest. It was a Pexus job listing with their proud motto: More Pony Than Pony.

“Hey buddy, I heard about your wife.” Joe handed Tracer his order as he sat down with him at the stools. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just weird.”

Joe laughed. “Weird? You mean like the the new mane-dew you’ve got there. I thought you kept it longer.” Tracer shrugged at Joe. Yes, his hair was shorter; he had it cut. His wife liked it long, so he had it cut after she died. “Nevermind. Anyway, I was gonna ask you if you’d be interested in something.” Tracer began to eat his food as Joe talked. “You see, with all this extra money I’m getting, I was finally able to afford to by my family a dog.” This piqued Tracer’s interest. “It’s a one of them collies descendants that came from that Winona dog that supposedly belonged to one of the Elements of Harmony. And, get this, it’s pregnant. I was thinking of giving you one of the pups. I planned to get rid of them, but I figured I let you have the first pick of the litter.”

“Really?” Tracer beamed at the idea of actually having a real animal.

“Yeah, and if you haven’t decided yet, the offer will still stand. You got plenty of time until the pups are born.” Joe smiled as he stood back up.

“Wait.” Tracer froze. “Sit back down.”

Joe complied with Tracer’s order. “What’s the matter?”

“That helping hand of yours,” Tracer brought his voice down to a whisper, “is he new?”

Joe looked at Tracer curiously. “Yeah, why does that matter?”

Tracer noticed repeatedly that Joe’s helper would stare at him. “He seems to like looking at me. And, that spot where it looks like his fur melted, he got too close to the stove yes?” Joe nodded. “There’s a problem with his melted fur.”

When Joe noticed his helper staring at the two of them, he kept his voice at a whisper as well. “What’s the problem?”

“Real fur doesn’t melt.” Tracer looked to his left and right. The faces of four stallions stood out, two on both sides, as they were closing in around the proximity of the shop. His gut instinct told him there was an android hunt in progress. Joe looked at tracer in concern. “Walk away, now.”

Joe nodded. “Hey, uh, Mace.” The helper in question looked directly at them. “I’m taking a trip down to the restrooms.” Joe made off quickly into the crowd.

“Mace, right?” Tracer picked up one of the other flyers that were laying around as a distraction. “You ever read these little questionnaires?”

Mace’s face dawned a nervous look. “I don’t read very much.”

Tracer gave a fake smile. “Here, listen to this.” Tracer noticed that the stallions closing in were getting closer. “Your friend has a pet cat. A loud noise scares the cat and it scratches you. What do you do?”

Mace’s answer was quick. “I’d smack it.”

“You seem like a smart kid,” Tracer saw the four stallions draw weapons from hidden holsters and point them at mace, “but machines can still make stupid mistakes.”

Mace’s face twisted in anger as he saw the weapons that had been pointed at his head. “You blade runners are murderers.”

Tracer noticed one of the armed stallions getting closer. “NO WAIT!”

It was too late. Mace had pulled the stallion's body in front of himself to use as a living shield as he redirected his weapon’s shots at two of the the others. There was an audible pop of the neck of the body that Mace used to shield himself. With effortless strength, he threw the now dead mass at the last stallion.

Tracer had hit the floor and sparked his magic to pull his blaster out of my its concealed holster. Acting fast, Tracer kicked off from the stand and slid on his back while pointing his blaster at Mace’s head. The moment he saw the recognizable glow of synthetic eyes, he fired his weapon with deadly precision. A slight growing hum was followed by a screeching pop.

The blast from Tracer’s gun had blown a decent chunk of Mace’s skull off. The damage done revealed fine circuitry and a pale blue fluid that gushed about uncontrollably as Mace fell on his side. “I've lost my mind.” A loud electronic laugh pulsated from his mouth. “Time to die.”

Tracer stood up, and without thought, he fired another shot which left a baseball sized hole in Mace’s torso. It was the sweet spot, right where the power source of the less advanced Pexus androids were located. Mace’s face froze. Only his eyelids glitched open and shut until finally the servos locked up, leaving one eye open and the other half closed.

The fact that the body of Mace entered into a state of rigor mortis was deceptive. The lifelike effect of its appearance was gone. The curtain closed on its existence as it lay there as nothing more than a statue of electronics and synthetic fur.

Law enforcement had already shown up to take care of the scene. Technicians got to work cutting back the synthetic skin and fur to dismantle the body for transportation. Investigators came and asked witnesses to confirm what happened.

Tracer noticed Joe standing by, smiling. It was an exploitation opportunity. Joe could bank on new customers coming to hear the stories about the latest android that was retired and how the bounty hunter that retired it was a frequent customer.

This was the scene every time a rogue android was retired in a public place. It was a spectacle that people could profit from under the right circumstances. If a bounty hunter dies in the fight, there's no problem, but when a bystander or animal gets killed, ponies forget about exploitation and pretend like it never happened. Today three bounty hunters died, and no one else was injured.

“Tracer!” The bounty hunter that survived the event came up to Tracer. He limped a bit, but that was after the fact of the corpse of one of his partners being thrown at him. A closer look at this bounty hunter showed that he wasn't completely a pony.

“How's it going Twitch?” Tracer remember meeting Twitch when he was just beginning as a bounty hunter. Twitch’s appearance was somewhat unique. His mother was a gryphon. That left him mixed with a unique body that consisted of the head of a pony and the body of a gryphon. Under the cover of his coat, Twitch looked like any other stallion. His claws came as an advantage. He didn't have a horn, and it was rare for an earth pony or a pegasus to ever become a bounty hunter, but with his gryphon claws, he could wield a decent weapon.

“How am I? I should be asking you that question. Your wife died, and you just retired an android in the middle of your lunch. That's talent! Who gives a shit how I feel!” Twitch laughed as he retrieved his weapon from the ground.

“I see you got a new toy. Latest in gryphon technology?” Tracer looked at Twitch’s piece. He knew how it worked. It was a series of coils that magnetically projected explosive ammunition at a high velocity.

Twitch smiled as he put it back in its holster. “It's called a coil gun. I see you got something new as well. What is it?”

Tracer levitated his blaster to Twitch. “The R.D. Blaster. It it charges up by harnessing magic I feed into. The trigger is located in its interior. And, when it's fired, it shoots out a blast of energy.”

“I had the pleasure of witnessing a demonstration of its power.” Twitch gave Tracer back the blaster. “I need to talk to you. It's about a long term job. It involves long distance traveling, and I know your stance on that.”

“That's changed. I only stayed in Ponyville for my wife, but now she's, well, you know.” Tracer nodded his head. “So, what's this job?”

Twitch pulled a laminated piece of paper out of his coat pocket. “This is a mandate from international law enforcement.”

“International?” Tracer almost couldn't believe it.

“Yeah, it's become that big of a problem. Anyways, the mandate has opened up a solid job opportunity for all bounty hunters. Call it a commission, I guess.” Twitch passed the paper to tracer.

“400,000 bit credits a year?” Tracer smiled at the idea. If he could get that kind of credit, he'd be able to afford a flock of swans, if they'd existed.

“And you get get a 20,000 bonus for every android you retire.” Twitch pulled out a green transaction cartridge. “I took the liberty of getting you your own uplink for payment. It's already got credits prepaid for your first official on the job retirement.”

Tracer took the transaction cartridge with his magic. “What makes you think I even want the job?”

“Because,” Twitch laughed, “you've already taken the money.”

Tracer smiled a bit. “What now?”

He's Special

Chipper snorted a bit as he started out into the rain. He looked up at the buildings that towered high into the skies of Manehatten. It was much more busy up there. Hundreds of signs and glowing advertisements flickered faster than you could tell. They're electric interpretations of food, sex, and clothes almost seemed to be ignored by the bustling sky walks that were lined with ponies, gryphons, and the occasional dragon. Chipper envied them all a little bit, but not too much, he didn't like to be mean.

To distract himself from the antagonizing heaven above, Chipper switched on his portable media set. With a click of the switch under the weight of his claw, the screen glowed to life with an image of the princess. Chipper settled himself on the floor and peeled off a sticker that had stuck to his hind hoof.

“Citizens of the Equestrian Republic, we ask you to denounce these silly religious notions from this dragon who has poisoned your minds with nonsense. Elementism is a dangerous practice that has left many scarred by the injuries inflicted by the friendship boxes.” The Princess was white, with a sort of rainbow-ish mane. Like all princesses would be, she was adorned with shining shoes and a shiny hat. Chipper only liked looking at the princess. She was visually pleasing. But, that was the extent of his appreciation. He didn't really know her name, not that anypony else knew her name; she was the princess.

“What about the sprite-heads? Chipper frowned at the outburst from the audience member that was hidden by the limitations of the screen.

“Please,” the princess rebuked, “they are unique, but that does not merit disrespect on their behalf.” Chipper switched off the screen. He didn't want to hear anymore of it.

He was a sprite-head. Chipper had been exposed to enough radiation that it began to affect the two most vital organs that off world colonists needed. His brain and his balls. With these two organs corrupted by the lasting fallout, it was impossible for Chipper to escape his dismal surroundings.

All around Chipper were the remnants of an old grand hotel. He had remembered reading how this place was once a vision of paradise in the old world, and the very bedroom he slept in was once the shelter for one of the elements of harmony. It had changed so much.

This hotel that Chipper lived in was abandoned after the Coda Wars. And, with little help to retain its image, it had deteriorated over the years. The wallpaper was faded and had peeled off to the extent of leaving some walls barren with only the sight of rotting wood. Tiles everywhere were coming loose or breaking up. Chipper’s level was considerably fine since he did his best to maintain it, but beyond that space, the top floors were exposed to outside world. Radioactive rain had broken down the roof and made a wasteland of a building on the top floor. It's surreal presence showed as the old world ghost that haunted the entire hotel. Chipper mostly remained in his own little apartment space he had made for himself by joining three rooms.

Still sitting on the hardwood floor, Chipper stared at his own self image as a hippogriff. His equestrian body mixed with his gryphon face and claws was not the merit of his self hatred. He was one of those unique figures that the princess talked about. He was the result of radiation mutation. His reproductive organs had been compromised and his mind had been impaired. His mind was the reason he hated himself.

He was good at complicated tasks, but when it came to socializing, he found himself a bit handicapped. There was that, and he couldn't afford to leave the hotel. He obtained it from his father, who got it from his father and so on. It was where he set up his own little pet repair shop. But, not many ever really came by. In fact, no one else lived in the hotel. There wasn't much Chipper could do to escape his surroundings. Well there was one thing.

Chipper eyed the friendship box that a elementist missionary had given him. He walked over to it and opened the lid which turned it on automatically. On a small screen, the image of a robed figure was seen hiking up paths in the old smokey mountains. Chipper placed his claws on the side panels which lit up his senses.

Chipper could no longer feel the presence of his home as he felt an entirely new sensation. He had linked himself to the robed figure who was known well by all who practiced elementism. He was a purple dragon with green spikes with eyes to match. His countenance was a powerful one to all who met him. Thousands if not millions of followers would link themselves to this dragon through friendship boxes.

Chipper was beginning to feel everything the dragon feel, now. He could feel the rocky path beneath him, the breeze, and the fatigue. He began to feel the presence of others linked to the dragon. “Let me share my memories,” came the voice of the dragon.

Chipper smiled as his mind was flooded with visions of the old world. He could see the elements of harmony as the dragon had once seen them. He could feel the happiness that radiated from them all. He could see a different world with a blue sky. There was an actual sky and not the dark void he was used to. There was a particular fond memory of the element known as generosity.

Then came the sharp pains ended the mirthful visions as rocks were being thrown at the dragon. Chipper let go of the friendship box and closed it.

Looking at his shoulder, he could see the scrape from where the rock hit the dragon. He made his way to clean it up and bandage it before an infection could spread. “That good for this day.” He was nearly finished with the bandage when he heard movement from downstairs.

“Me no alone?” Chipper smiled at the notion of having a neighbor. He rushed to a drawer and pulled out a “home sweet home” sign. “This good. I can give, and we be friends.” Chipper rushed to his door. “Maybe call me Chip, shorter nice name, Chip.” He slowed a bit in his step as he thought carefully to himself. “Remember, don't say you’s a sprite-head.”