Aftersound

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Written by: Oneimare & Geka

Preread and edited by: Jay Tarrant, IAmApe, mikemeiers

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A horse with no name

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The first Zebrican dignitaries in centuries were quite perplexed to witness a rare creature usually unwelcome by almost any nation mingling with ponies. They had a word for all scaly beings—dragons, sea serpents, wyverns...

Joka.

That name hadn’t circulated for long, however. The visitors from the distant land had got along with Spike pretty well—he’d been eager to distract himself from the most recent events. She had been like a second mother to him.

However, the excitement of a newly forged alliance wore down eventually and the distant war wordlessly called for Spike with every snippet of news from the front. The last time Twilight saw him was through the window of the train departing to the Crystal Empire.

No matter how hard I tried to detach myself from her memories, sometimes it was impossible to ignore the emotions they evoked in me.

If not for Clandestine Delight’s chokes of sheer terror, I might have thought hours had passed as I stared into the pain-filled eyes of the abomination Twilight’s foster son had become.

Spike… he didn’t need to see a familiar face or lavender coat. As a dragon, a being of the most primal magic, he could sense the arcane touch that had brought him to life. The very same power that ironically gave life to me as well, and now oozed from every crack of my metal body.

He was still, hanging above me like a gargoyle.

Guided not by my mind I reached out for him.

Spike reared on his legs and screamed.

It was not the desirous roar of a predator stalking the subterranean darkness for prey to rend, but a wail of horrible realization and immense agony. A shrill yelp and a dull thump behind me echoed the harrowing howl; I couldn’t tear my eyes from Spike to check on Delight.

The ghastly cry hadn’t yet faded when he fell to his knees and clawed on the steel in place of his scales. His obsidian talons carved deep into the metal like it was butter, exposing tender flesh beneath and making me recoil in horror and confusion as crimson dripped on the grated floor.

When I finally woke from my stupor and rushed to him, Spike reared up again and spread his claws, painting the walls with his gore, roaring in pain and anger. His body made a full turn on the spot, so fast and vehement, the whip of his tail exploded the wall into dust and concrete shrapnel.

By the time my hoof had finally found purchase on the floor, he was already gone, leaving deep furrows and red stains in his threshing and bellowing wake.

I had to stop myself from following him.

I was a machine, but I wasn’t heartless—as probably the last one who remembered Spike as he had been, I felt obligated to do something about his suffering. At least, that was what I told myself—Twilight memories burned in me.

I neither knew the Tunnels well enough nor was it safe for us to meet again—until I somehow found out what had happened to him and knew how to help, it would only hurt us both.

Right now, I had two fillies to rejoin, probably waiting for me somewhere in this horrible city. And Delight hadn’t taken the meeting with Spike very well.

The pegasus curled on the floor, shielding her head and body with hooves and wings. She whimpered and sobbed quietly, shivering in her horseshoes. My eyes involuntarily swept over her shaking form.

On her flank was a simple pink heart with two bandaids crossing it—her cutie mark.

Though it could give only a vague idea of what her talent could be, it wasn’t hard to imagine a dozen jobs to welcome somepony with a cutie mark like that. Yet Delight had to end up with such an undignified occupation. And Canterlot had stolen even that from her.

“Hey, Clandestine Delight,” I softly called.

The snow-white mare only curled tighter. She appeared to be strongly inclined to silt through the grated floor to the lower level of the Tunnels.

“He’s gone now, you’re safe.”

Her sobs subdued and a pink bloodshot eye tentatively peeked at me from betwixt long feathers. Carefully and slowly, Delight rose to her hooves, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on the space behind my shoulder. Then she gazed at me with shock and awe.

“What? How did you…?” Delight stuttered, alternating betwixt pointing with her hoof at me and the tunnel; I glanced behind, just in case.

“You can say I know who he once was,” I murmured.

She gasped and whispered reverently, “Are you… a Former One?”

Only my inability to produce a sigh prevented me from letting one out. However lovely this mare Delight was, I had neither the time nor desire to explain my predicament.

“Not exactly…” I awkwardly began, “Look, I really need to hurry—I have friends to meet. But I will lead you to the surface, as promised.”

It seemed my message was partially lost as she kept staring at me in wonderment. Though, when I started to trot, she meekly followed.

Minutes passed and the silence of our fast-paced travelling gained an awkward quality.

“So…” Delight cleared her throat and I somehow foresaw her question. “What was your name, again?”

“I don’t have one.”

“But—”

My head whipped at her by itself, the glare of my remaining eye sending the pegasus flinching. Upon seeing panic creeping back in her expression, I instantly tried to rectify my outburst. “Sorry, Clandestine Delight, it’s… just a very complicated matter.”

She seemed to relax to some degree; yet, ultimately, my responses only aggravated the air of uneasiness settled betwixt us.

“No need to use my full name—nopony does,” the pegasus suddenly said, softly. “It’s usually ‘Del’.”

Facing her, I replied in a carefully controlled voice, “Alright, Del.”

She smiled in return.

That mare certainly had a big heart.

A figure concealed in rags briskly cantered past us, here and there muzzles tentatively poked from shadows—the news that Spike had gone must have spread and life was returning to the Tunnels.

Eyeing the strangers warily, Del all but huddled to me, trying and failing to make it look incidental. Feigning a casual tone, she spoke from my side, her voice low, “Who are your friends?”

“Two fillies from the Edge.”

The pegasus’ brows went up.

“I’m not sure which surprises me the most. The Edge, though, don’t they hate equinoids’ guts?”

“It was one of them who made my body.”

Del gave me a long look and I could practically hear gears turning in her head. She quickly caught herself, however; and whilst I expected questions, she only commented rather levelly:

“It’s quite impressive, I’d say. And... quite illegal.”

“I know. We were going to get me a counterfeit ID.”

True to my prediction, more and more ponies emerged back into the main passageway—the pegasi as the most prominent, to little surprise. However, with their wingtips dragging on the floor as they trudged or lifeless stares as they slouched in the shadows, they presented a miserable and concerning sight. The drug addicts and diseased kept stealing clearly unwelcoming glances at us.

Squirming under the looks the stallions gave her, Del whispered to me, her voice tense, “Where were you supposed to meet up with your friends?”

“The Southeast Thunderspire.” Whilst the pegasi betrayed my proximity to that place, nothing else pointed to the exit. I had to reluctantly admit, “To be honest, I don’t know how to get there.”

“I thought you knew the way,” she hissed.

“I’ve only learned a little,” I threw over my shoulder, ignoring the daggers Del glared at me as I tried to figure out which of the countless passages could lead to the surface.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, she poked me, pointing her pinions at one of the smaller tunnels not so far away, grumbling, “The exit should be there.”

With Del in tow, I made a beeline for the narrow duct, the pegasus all but pressing herself to my side as we passed a group of sickly ponies openly ogling her. Only my bloodstained metal skin stopped them from making any moves—barely; I had to suppress an urge to give Del a dirty eye—I was neither eager for a fight, nor was I confident about my body being able to survive another brawl.

“You aren’t supposed to know the Tunnels either,” I coldly commented on Del‘s pathfinding ‘success’.

Apologetic and somewhat sorrowful, she replied, “I don’t know the local parts—I was relocated to Silken Flute a few months ago, but I lived by another Spire once.”

The name struck a bell and I couldn’t help but take another look at her burns—freshly healed.

Impossibly rusted stairs led skywards, sorrel sloughs coming off the steps and walls in huge flakes; the excessive moisture could be blamed for that deterioration, as every surface glistened with dew.

Del hurried up the steps, yet they brought her nowhere. When I reached the top, I found her puffing and panting in futile attempts to push open the jammed hatch. A single shove from my shoulder cracked it open; she pursed her lips in the corner of my eye-sensor.

Unsurprisingly, we exited into a short and narrow dead-end alley stuffed with trash containers; a familiar sight, however, differed in one aspect—dense mist lazily coiled all around, obscuring everything.

Still, my path was clear; figuratively, at least.

Producing an abominable sound—‘clearing my throat’—I got the attention of the pegasus still busy with catching her breath.

“Thank you, Del. It was nice to meet you.”

Unwilling to indulge in a prolonged parting, I simply trotted away but managed to take only a few steps before a desperate yell arrested my hooves and forced me to face the distraught pegasus again.

“Wait!” She bit her lip so hard, I expected blood to show, and whispered, “Please, take me with you.”

“Why?”

“I… I…” Del’s face contorted with reluctance and anguish, then she hung her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, and admitted in a broken voice, “I have nowhere to go.”

Taking a shuddering breath she hastily continued, only with a slight waver, “I… I know how that sounds, but I can be helpful.” Her tone gained strained firmness to it. “I’m going to be. You saved my life, please, allow me to repay that.”

She seemed like an unfortunate waif, indeed, obviously incapable of surviving in Canterlot without help—my help. However, betwixt me and two kids who had spent their lives at the outskirts of the city, Del had the most knowledge; which would prove invaluable if I failed to reunite with the fillies.

“Alright.” Her face bloomed with immense relief. “You can come with me.”

The pegasus all but leapt at me, her hooves outstretched in an obvious intent, only to be stopped by my hard expression and crimson still glistening on my plating.

“Thank you,” she uttered sheepishly, backing away with an awkward chuckle. “I promise—you won’t regret this!”

Delight volunteered to show me the rest of the way to the Thunderspire and I now watched how she jovially trotted through the vapour like it was nothing, with a literal spring in her step, her wings fluttering in excitement.

I myself, sullenly waded the milky mists, stumbling every other second.

Painting the haze in pastel colours, neon lights hid somewhere in its depths, offering little guidance. Fortunately, the thoroughfare had yet to fully recover from the raid as only the occasional equine silhouettes briefly emerged from the fog; most of them winged of course.

The fog ended abruptly as if cut off by a glass wall, presenting me with the Southeast Thunderspire in all its glory.

The gargantuan tower dwarfed the highest spires of old Canterlot; it put Manehattan’s skyscrapers to shame. Its roots dug into the pavement with ten thirty-stories-high arches, forming a thick trunk that gradually narrowed to a needle tearing the heavens asunder.

The Spire abandoned the traditional pegasi material—clouds—in favour of metal. And no ulcers of corrosion marred its gleaming surface, for it was no steel. The mind-boggling mass of arcanium reflected the ceaseless arcs of electricity and the pale moonbeams sneaking through the opening in the enormous thunderstorm.

Surprisingly, an unbearable cacophony hadn’t assaulted my hearing—a dampening spell must have been in action.

And then I realised—I was looking at the biggest lightning rod in Equestria.

An obelisk erected to defy nature, to enrage it. To tame its disastrous fury into a beast of burden. To feed all of Canterlot with the power of its righteous anger. So risky and so amazing. Dangerous, yet advantageous.

Something only the pegasi could pull off.

“Ah, feels like being back home!” Del interrupted my marvelling and took a deep breath of the ozone-smelling air. “Haven’t visited the Spires in ages—that damn job.”

“If you were born at the Spire, why didn’t you stay there?”

A facility of such a size would certainly need a fleet of pegasi to function; jobs dangerous to a degree, but undoubtedly respected, given the crucial role of Thunderspires.

“I was pretty enough to become a Moth, it wasn’t a chance to miss,” she replied with a sly smile, coquettishly smoothing her mane.

Yet her eyes were hollow.

We were to meet at the Southeast Thunderspire, but… where exactly?

The area around the Spire effortlessly matched its grandeur—a vast open space of city square. Whilst the ground seemed mostly an empty area, countless cloud buildings floating above cast it into a deep shadow. In that darkness crowds of ponies milled, briskly travelling across.

Tin Flower and Red Wire were nowhere to be seen.

“Del, do you know any places nearby which could serve as a meeting place? Like the entrance into the Spire itself?”

“The entrances are heavily guarded. Loitering around it is an invitation for a hoof to kick our asses—or your friends’.” She then raised her eyebrow. “Don’t you have an agreement on a meeting place?”

“There wasn’t any agreement. We had planned to go to the city together but things got hectic and we got separated. I… I’m not even sure they will come.”

The confusion in her expression ceded to thoughtfulness as she pieced the puzzle together—the recent raid and the fillies’ residence. Del gasped and gave me a sympathetic look; she then frowned and went silent for a full minute, squinting at the square from time to time.

Finally, she said, “I think the best call will be to try and intercept your friends at the sole exit from the Edge in this area.”

My guess about Delight’s knowledge proved right—she nimbly navigated the streets, wisely choosing the least crowded paths, not some creepy back alleys like I had been.

Soon, far sooner than I expected, we came to a little square formed by stout abandoned buildings. In the middle of that opening, a wide pit led underground with multiple stairs—some sort of half-destroyed and repurposed sewer collector or the ruins of a facility.

Ponies and rare equinoids teemed around the entrance, mostly engaged in trading over crates of metal scrap. Others just warmed themselves by the burning barrels, chatting quietly.

And no fillies were amongst them.

Delight noticed that too, giving me a half-apologetic, half-encouraging smile. She then motioned to an alcove at the edge of the area—a somewhat secluded corner overlooking the entire place.

Time stretched by, and with every pony or equinoid coming out of the gaping void, my worries grew. Of course, it was foalish to expect the fillies to appear the moment we sat down on the cold pavement. But I also had another explanation as to why it wasn’t happening.

“Del, what if they already came to the surface and are waiting for me somewhere near the Spire?” Hard as I might have tried, I had no doubts she’d notice the apprehension in my voice.

However, her reply came calm, “Have any of them been to the city before?”

Flower had been to Canterlot at least once; I nodded.

“Then they are bound to know that this square”—Del motioned with her wing—“is the safest place for Edge ponies, considered a neutral patch even by police, since they buy the old metal here occasionally.” Seeing as she barely assured me, the pegasus added, “We can go and check in the Spire’s vicinity if you want.”

I shook my head.

Flower and Wire should be sensible enough to come to the same conclusion as Delight… eventually. Running back and forth betwixt two places would do no good to nopony.

Eventually, the prolonged silence grew ominous and Del’s nerves gave up first.

“You are new to the city, aren’t you?” she asked carefully, looking at me cautiously.

For the umpteenth time, I wished for a pair of lungs—that mare had her weaknesses and lacking wit wasn’t one of them.

“I suppose you deserve to know.” I paused, gathering my thoughts and earning a subtle triumphant grin from the pegasus. “Tin Flower, one of those fillies, tried to make an equinoid. The gems she used had voice recordings of Twilight Sparkle, a scientist from five hundred years ago and they somehow worked as a ‘memory anchor’.”

Del fell silent and pensive for a full minute.

I expected anything but her tactfully saying, “I see how that could be complicated.”

“You are the first pony who hasn’t tried to convince me I’m Twilight Sparkle now.”

She grinned. “I’ve got an impression that wouldn’t work, would it?”

“It is your talent, isn’t it?” I nodded at her flank.

“I’d say a combination of my natural ability and Moth skills—ponies often come to brothels to do more than just mess up the bedsheets.”

Whatever was on my mind, died on my lips as a dirty filly climbed out of the pit, glancing around nervously.

The moment Flower noticed me, she took off, her hooves barely touching the cracked pavement. And whilst I hurried to meet her halfway, little relief came to me—she was alone.

Flower crashed into me harder than I almost flattened myself against the wall in the tunnel under the Junkyard, and I couldn’t help but wrap my limbs around the sniffling filly.

“A friend, eh?” Del chuckled somewhat ruefully.

However, as readily as Flower accepted my iron hug, she wriggled herself out of my hooves to give me a critical look.

“We haven’t seen each other for a day and you’ve already got some shitty upgrades and broken half of what I installed,” Flower commented discontentedly, though with a barely contained smile, mirth dancing in her tired eyes.

She herself had come through whatever happened unscathed, but...

“Flower, where is Red Wire?”

“Oh, she didn’t make it,” the filly replied nonchalantly.

It took her a moment to realise her mistake and her eyes widened.

“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!” She frantically waved her hooves; Del loudly exhaled. “She is alright, just couldn’t come with me.”

Before I could ask her any more questions, a large stallion shoved her aside, then bumped into me, glaring at us—we stood in the middle of the road.

When we all huddled together in that alcove, I addressed Flower:

“What happened after I went into the tunnel?”

“Wire and I argued a little and we decided to follow you. We saw Peps finally go full batty and you ran away. But we couldn’t go after you, it was too hot...” She shifted uneasily. “Then the shit hit the fan ‘cos another gang backstabbed her—the fight must be still going on. We could have gone to Canterlot straight away, but Wire’s folks decided it was the perfect time to flee to Nebula’s, so she left with them and her sister gave me this.”

She produced a tiny metal object from her rags—a sort of token very similar to Brass Litany’s gift. Yawning monstrously, she added, “Though, Druse said that stallion never stays in one place, so we have to look for him ourselves.”

“Are you talking about Segfault?” Delight chimed in.

“Yeah, that’s his name.” The filly nodded absentmindedly, then squinted at the pegasus. “Wait, who are you?”

“I met Clandestine Delight in the Tunnels.”

“Nice to meet you, Flower.” She smiled at the filly.

Flower regarded her with a long somewhat apprehensive look that lasted until her gaze found an emblem on the pegasus’ cheek.

“Are you a Moth?” Her eyes lit up. “I have so many questions to ask!”

She already seemed to know more than needed for her age, so putting myself betwixt her and the smugly grinning mare, I firmly stated, “We have a pony to find and I’m still ‘illegal’.”

“I wasn’t going to teach your friend the birds and the bees.” The pegasus raised her hooves in the air defensively, accompanying that motion with a roll of her eyes. Under her breath, she added, “Not while you are around, anyway.”

Clearing her throat under my glare, she continued, “I think Segfault is at southeast 234th street, 18, today. It’s not far.”

Del beamed at me, almost proudly and I nodded approvingly—she was staying true to her word.

None of us dropped a single word as we made our way to Segfault.

Delight had to concentrate on keeping us out of the streets—a beautiful, even if a bit ragged, pegasus mare, who chose to trot by my right, trusting me with her blind side; an incredibly dirty filly by my left, as if protecting my own blind side; a half-demolished custom equinoid—we stuck out like a moulting feather.

Flower yawned every other minute; she rejected my offer to ride on my back, explaining she’d prefer to be awake if we got in trouble. With my attention diverted to preventing the filly from tripping over her hooves, I had no chance to even think.

Thankfully, Segfault’s place wasn’t far, indeed.

We entered a tower-like edifice with no signs of a pony inside providing illegal services. According to Del’s comment, the ID-forger rotated betwixt such unassuming apartment complexes to avoid attention and occasionally visited Silken Flute; thankfully not her room, she noted with a shudder.

A cramped and dirty elevator brought us to one of the top floors and Delight led us to a door without a number. Not bothering to knock, she went in, motioning us to follow.

A large screen served as the only source of light in the otherwise pitch-dark room. In front of it sat a huge spider, typing furiously.

Suppressing a shriek, I stared at that creature, until I realised it was a pony—since he was alone in the room, it had to be none other than Segfault.

A dozen metal ‘legs’ protruded from a hole in the back of the stallion’s clothing, poking the keyboard with an incredible speed, whilst Segfault remained still, staring at the lines running on the display.

Segfault seemed to either not notice, or simply ignore us for a few uncomfortable minutes. Finally, he sighed tiredly and turned, locks of his greasy long mane falling like a waterfall around a cracked horn onto a one-piece metal plate where his eyes should be.

“An ex-whore, a shitty custom tinhead and Edge scum. Is this the beginning of a joke, or am I missing something?”

Delight didn’t react in any way save for pressing her lips together; Flower took a step forward.

“We’ve come for a fake ID,” she proclaimed with indignation burning in her eyes.

“Do I look like somepony who does fucking charity?” he sneered.

Flower protruded the metal chip and practically flung it at the stallion.

One of Segfault’s mechanical limbs caught the token and brought it to his visor. The stump of his horn sizzled like a humid firework and the small trinket glowed in response, lighting up his face to reveal a web of scars converging beyond the metal hiding his eyes.

“Hollow Druse, wasn’t it? The best enchanter I’ve ever met outside Noxiae...” His brows furrowed above the frame of the visor. He threw Druse’s token back to Flower. “So, what kind of ID do you need?”

That was my cue. “One to give me no trouble with the police.”

Segfault roared in laughter, his ‘spider legs’ rattling.

“Ain’t you one funny piece of rust? There is no ID in all of Canterlot that can do that for you. You couldn’t possibly look more custom made and… when the fuck were your gems last cleared, hundred years ago?”

“Five hundred to be exact,” I deadpanned.

The smile died on the stallion’s lips and despite the lack of eyes on his face, he seemed to glance betwixt us, as if expecting to hear at any moment it was a joke.

“Aight,” he concluded in a careful tone and turned back to the screen, still speaking, “Until you get a new frame, any stock model, my ID’d of no use for you. And even after that any unicorn is gonna sniff you out the moment you pass by.”

As Segfault fell silent, busy with work, Flower quietly said, “So, what are we going to do after that?”

She looked like if she didn’t keep talking or moving she might fall asleep.

“I’m a bit hungry,” came Delight’s reply, accompanied by a rumble of her stomach, rendering her muzzle crimson.

“I have some mushrooms with me.”

Flower enthusiastically produced a bundle from somewhere inside her clothing. It reeked of mould so abhorrently, even Segfault paused to glance at us with his eyebrow raised.

“Eww…” Delight instantly recoiled, taking a step away from the filly.

Tin Flower merely shrugged and commented nonchalantly, “Strange to hear that from somepony who used to earn money by eating di—”

Delight pounced at her, mockingly trying to strangle the filly with her wings. They both smiled and giggled, prompting another annoyed look from Segfault.

Spike’s condition bothered me greatly and whilst Del and the fillies offered me a great insight into modern Equestria, I still stumbled around blindly, having no answers to the most important questions.

“We need to go to a library or something like that,” I said after their feigned fight wound down.

Flower opened her mouth, but Segfault barked, “Name!”

I tilted my head, frowning.

The stallion elaborated in a harsh tone, “What is going to be your name?”

His question froze me to the spot and panic began to settle, but wasn’t given a chance as Flower readily answered him, “Twilight Sparkle.”

I glared at the filly, but she only smiled—innocently, looking back at me in confusion as she belatedly noticed my anger. My head snapped to the screen, but it seemed too late to change anything.

Segfault saved Flower by throwing over his shoulder, “The Royal Archives are your best bet, Twilight Sparkle.”

Giving her one last scathing look, I noted, “Aren’t they supposed to be at the Sky Palace?”

Assuming the tower in the centre of Canterlot was built where the castle had once stood, the Archives had to be somewhere inside it.

“Of course not! The Crown doesn’t need that old shit,” Segfault scoffed. “Southeast 56th street—a big ol’ building.”

“We should go to Wire’s new place instead,” Flower tentatively suggested. “You need a new body and zebras pay good money for a job well done. You really should get it before going anywhere.”

“I don’t think going to the Edge is that good a plan,” Delight scrunched her face. “Frankly, it sucks.”

Flower smirked. “Look who’s talking...”

Delight nimbly leapt over her to wrap Flower’s head in wings, tickling her muzzle. Holding the filly tight to prevent any resistance, she offered her idea:

“I have some strings I can pull across the city, it will be faster than saving money by making drugs.” Her expression darkened considerably. “We’d have to go back into the Tunnels, however. And the little rascal is right—the Archives are very close to the Inner City; police there aren’t as lousy as on the outskirts.”

The filly in the question finally managed to escape from the feather trap. “I’m not supposed to be in the city either—no ID, too.”

“Could you make one for her?” I asked Segfault, hoping that this could also be a part of his favour to Hollow Druse.

“With the shit happening at the Edge right now?” He shook his head. “No way, no use. It will get nullified the moment she tries to use it.”

Flower and Del looked at me, expectant.

Getting a new body was imperative, and not only because of my problems with the law. Whilst Flower, Scuff and Brass Litany had done their best, my frame still felt like a temporary solution with recent events aggravating the situation.

Either option possessed some risk, but above all stood one simple fact.

What was the sense in a new body if I didn’t even know who I was?

Author's Note

Special thanks to Jay Tarrant and Typoglyphic.

I hope you've enjoyed reading this story so far.

If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.

Stay awesome.