Chapters View Online
Prolong - The Magazine and Plans (update to The Hearth's Warming Club)
Twilight's School of Friendship was an oddity among the other schools of Equestria.
Forgoing the usual strict curriculum laid out by an outdated ruleset that only accommodated equines, Twilight and the other element bearers chose to pursue a more organic style of teaching involving each one’s particular element and personal knowledge. The regular style of classroom had been reworked to not only give students more flexibility and freedom in their studies, but also to accommodate almost every sentient creature from all the surrounding kingdoms and more.
With these changes in place, not only were the students achieving higher test scores overall, but the attendance rate had increased almost threefold compared to the average. But as with all schools, there are some things that never change. For starters, the school still required a standard curriculum to run alongside the new one, and no matter how engaging they made the standard subjects, the pure boredom of being stuck in a classroom still applied.
In the furthest back row of desks, a group of six particular students of multiple races were doing everything in their power to stave off the dull monotony of the current lesson without getting into trouble. At the desk closest to the windows, a blue griffon decked out in blue sweatpants and a matching hoodie was alternating between staring at his watch and staring out into the courtyard. He would occasionally finger at the headphones draped around his neck.
The next desk over had a green pony resting his head on his hoof while staring absentmindedly at the blackboard as their teacher scribbled out diagrams with little bits of text dotting around them. He had black shorts and a sea green shirt with a graphic of sea turtles on the front.
The orange dragoness next to him wearing a purple shirt and black pants rested her head on the desk, counting each individual speck of dust on its cool surface. Directly in front of her was a hippogriff diligently taking notes for the rest of her friends to “study” later. Her attire consisted of a white shirt with a skirt and a seashell necklace.
Second to last was a changeling of a light blue coloration with red wings and translucent pink mane. She wore a light blue t-shirt and pants, and was trying to keep pace with her own note taking whille shaking of fits of drowsiness.
In the back corner of the room, a little bit removed from all the students so as to make room for a much bigger desk, a yak was drooling a river as she daydreamed about which food she would devour at lunch. She had on the traditional Yakyakistani quilted green dress.
The griffon by the window groaned and leaned over to his pony neighbor. “How much longer, man? If I get any bored-er I'm gonna lose my head.” He sighed and then added, “This sucks total ass... no offense.”
The donkey directly ahead of him shrugged while turning the page of his comics that were hidden inside a larger textbook. “None taken.”
“About ten more minutes, dude," the pony told the griffon.
Gallus rubbed his knuckles into his dry eyes, desperately trying to get some moisture back into them. "This sucks so much, Sandbar. I would be able to pass the time easier if I could listen to my jams, but teach can spot my headphones from across the room. His eyes are that good, and that's coming from a griffon!” He accentuated the point by pressing a finger into his temple.
The sound of a pony loudly clearing his throat at the front of the classroom caused Gallus to wince and drop his head down into his forelimbs. Knowing that the teacher was watching and listening, the griffon and his pals were forced to wait silently for the hands on the clock to line up vertically. Eventually, after what felt like an hour of impatient finger tapping, the noon bell rang out and the class eagerly gathered up their books and writing utensils and quickly shuffled out the doorway. They were all dimly aware of their teacher yelling after them about which section they were supposed to study, but that mostly fell on deaf ears.
“I gotta take care of something, I'll meet you guys at the cafeteria! See ya!”
Before anyone could question where she was going, Silverstream had taken to the skies and disappeared down the hall.
The then five friends collectively shrugged and followed the crowd of assorted creatures to the cafeteria, Gallus put his headphones on over his ears and plugged the latest and greatest mixtape into his cassette player. The music was his stress reliever, but he also wanted to hear what his friends had to say – so he set the volume to a quarter turn. Noting a distinct lack of conversation filtering through, he decided to break the ice.
“So... where exactly did Silverstream fly off to? There's pizza on the menu today, she loved that when she first tried it. She wouldn't miss pizza day for the world.”
Sandbar shrugged. “Dunno, but the others might. He glanced over his shoulder. “You girls know anything?”
Yona was the first to respond. "Yak heard her say something about the bookstore, right Ocellus?" she asked as her belly rumbled loudly.
The changeling piped up. "Yes. She was getting a new issue of that magazine, Pixels and Hardware . Isn't that right Smolder?"
"Ya, and it's Software and Hardware , not Pixels and Hardware, " Smolder corrected them all as they entered the line that snaked its way out of the cafeteria doors. "Me and her have been reading that magazine for a while now, we got a subscription to it because it gives out free video games every month.”
"Yak never understands,” Yona said as she grabbed a lunch tray out of the stack. Why pay for a cheap magazine when you could just read it at the store and be on your way!”
Yona continued on down the line, piling her tray high with several slices of pizza, a few hayburgers, a huge salad, a mixture of canned sodas and juice boxes, and a bag of chips. Due to their larger size and higher metabolic needs, yak students needed triple the calories of a pony their age, so they were allowed much larger servings. The only other students who had truly specialized diets were the dragons, who required a small helping of assorted gemstones with their meals, in this case, they were baked into the toppings of the pizza.
The rest of the group was next, with Gallus grabbing a single slice, Sandbar opting for a veggie burger, and Ocellus got herself a salad, and they all got a drink of their choosing. At the end of the line, Smolder was handed her gem encrusted pizza slice by the lunchmare herself. With their selections in hand, the group crossed the room, managing to snag an unoccupied window table before they were all taken. After quickly deciding on who got to sit by the window, they all got situated to enjoy their one hour lunch break.
The tops of cans were popped and juices were poked as they engaged in their usual discussion of the morning's events – and future plans if it was a friday. After that died down, the conversation shifted to the one topic that almost constantly circulated around the table; their love for video games.
They were one of the very few things that they all had in common outside of school, with one game in particular their mainstay.
Spell Questing was the top-selling, story-driven open world game at the moment, with players and critics alike raving over not only the story and gameplay, but also all the hidden Bunny Day Eggs hidden around the gigantic world. For the next fifteen minutes or so, they talked about the latest quests they had taken and debated over which character attributes were best, with Ocellus going into great detail as to why the mage was the best class.
Far removed from their discussion, a random green pony grinned as he walked past the other entrance of the cafeteria with a tray that contained a cardboard box full of coleslaw, can of soda, and bag of chips. He made ready to pass through the door and be on his way, until...
WHOM!
The door was slammed open as a flying blur blasted through the opening without a care in the world, leaving the door to slowly close itself. The pony that had been struck found himself almost plastered onto the wall with a look of shock and horror on his face. As he slid down the wall and some nearby students snickered, only one thought was on his mind, which he voiced between gasps of pain.
"Oh no... My... Coleslaw."
“GUYS!”
The five immediately dropped their intense debate and looked out across the cafeteria, already knowing who they were looking at just by the screeching voice alone.
Silverstream hovered above them all with a huge smile on her face, a thick magazine clenched tightly in her claws.
“You're never going to believe what's going to happen this Hearth's Warming holiday break!!!”
In her excitement, Silverstream shot up to the ceiling and began doing loops. The little gang looked to one another to see who would be the volunteer to calm the hippogriff this time. Gallus hoped that Smolder or Ocellus would do the honor, but the double stare from the two forced him to sigh in defeat.
“...Fine.”
The griffon set down his half-finished drink and took off to catch his friend. She was all over the place and took Gallus several attempts before he could gently grab Silverstream and bring her back down to the table. Gallus settled back into his seat easily enough, but the excitable hippogriff was still breathing rapidly.
“Woah there, Silver!” Gallus exclaimed. “Take a deep breath, take it in slowly, dude.”
Once his friend's breathing had slowed to something close to normal, the griffon tried to get some information.
“Now, can you tell us what has gotten you so worked up?” he asked while brought his headphones back up.
“I... I need a drink.”
“Here,” Yona slid a soda across to Silverstream, and followed that up with a plate of pizza. “Yak brought extra, just for you.”
Silverstream took a huge bite of her pizza, savoring the delicious cheese before swallowing and opened up her cold soda. As she used her right hand to chug down the sweet nectar, her left was quickly flipping through the pages of her magazine. Once near the middle, she stopped flipping, slammed her empty can onto the table with a gasp, and pushed the magazine into the center for all to see. “Take a look at that! ”
The group all stood up in their seats and leaned in to see what the fuss was about. As Gallus, Sandbar, Yona, and Smolder took in the pages in open-mouthed silence, Ocellus decided to read the text out loud.
“The makers of the tabletop RPG Ogres & Oubliettes, and the smash hit video game series Spell Questing, have made their first foray into the world of online gaming with Spell Questing Online: Battle of the Shadows! ”
Gallus was the first to regain their speech. “Holy shit, dudes!” he exclaimed. “Look at the pics on this game, it looks so awesome!”
With a delicate teal hoof, Ocellus pulled the magazine towards herself and scowered the fine print.
“Is it... oh please let... Yes! It's multi-platform!" she cheered, knowing that she would still be able to play with the group on her system.
The changeling hoofed the magazine over to Yona, who slowly picked it up.
"Wow, I get to destroy anyone that gets in the way of the yaks and yaks will be the most powerful faction in the world!" The yak finished her statement by shoving her mouth directly into her salad bowl and loudly consuming the contents.
As the rest of the group talked more on the game, Sandbar munched on the crust of his pizza, deep in thought. Hearth's Warming was in a few days, and that meant winter break. In any other situation, the pony would have eagerly awaited such a time, but with the release of the next game in his all time favorite series coinciding, he was torn. His friends would most likely be going back to their own homes for the break, and that meant no gaming with the gang until after break, which just wouldn't do!
Then the plan came to him. It was a long shot, but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? “Hey guys, I’ve been thinking. Remember last hearth’s warming when we all got stuck here?”
Smolder huffed. “How could anyone forget that Your point being…?”
“Well, since it worked out in the end so well, maybe-”
“We could do it again! ”
Silverstream’s loud screech caused the other five to cover their ears, both because of the volume, and what was suggested.
“You mean, not go back to our homes… again?” Ocellus asked timidly?
Smolder wasn’t nearly as shy with her response. “You seriously want to go through that a second time?!”
Sandbar looked around for any kind of support, hoping to at least find some with Gallus, which didn’t happen.
“Hey now, don’t look at me like that. I have a legal guardian now, which means I can’t just hang out here all the time anymore.”
Without anybody to vouch for him, the pony did his best to state his case. “I mean, this game is online, right? But all our homes are so far from each other that it’ll be almost impossible to play with the lag. Plus there is a computer store right in town, so we can all pick up our copies on launch day!”
“Well, we do have have internet back at Mount Aris – ridiculously slow internet – so that’s not really an issue. But I would have to mail order the game, which could take weeks! I’m in!”
Gallus drummed his claws on the table. “Internet is flaky at best in Griffonstone, and I know the place I live at doesn’t have connectivity. We don’t have a dedicated computer store so… I’m in. Depending on my guardian, of course.”
“Yak doesn’t want to miss another Snilldar Fest , but yak also wants to join friends on the fields of battle! Let’s do this guys!” she smiled, all done with her meal now, as was everybody else.
“What about you, Ocellus? Are you in?”
“I-I would have to contact my broodmates first and make sure I’m not needed for anything. If I can’t stay fully, I should at least be able to stay long enough to get my preordered copy.”
"Well if that the case guys, we better call our parents or whatever and tell them that we are doing this," Gallus said to them all as he got up and finished off his soda. "How long until our next class, and also, what is it?" He looked to Ocellus.
"About fifteen minutes, and its math class, ugh..." she groaned alongside her friends as they all got up and headed for the exit.
Meanwhile, outside one of the doors of the cafeteria, the green pony from earlier was leaning up against the wall and eating what remained of his coleslaw right out of the box. He was just going in for another bite when the door flew open once again smacked him in the face. The gang of six either walked or flew out the exit, completely oblivious to him, and his coleslaw covered face.
Author's Note
I see gallus owning a cassette player if the show was more on what their life was like then building up a great story. I love it that way still.
but in the show, I can't help but see them in a world with mix tech like the Regular Show
View Online
Chapter 1 - Snow and No School (update to The Hearth's Warming Club)
It was a cold and snowy day in Ponyville. Winter's thick blanket of snow covered everything, rendering the bright and colorful town into an icy white. Large snowbanks lined every walkway and thoroughfare, created either by hoof powered snowplows or single ponies with shovels, and both parties were also sprinkling salt to keep the ice at bay.
Despite all the hardships that that time of year brought with it, the townsfolk still maintained their cheerful expressions as they milled about the town square, visiting outdoor stalls and the stores that ringed the area. Every storefront had a Hearth's Warming theme ranging from simple candlelit dioramas of the three tribes in their window exhibits, to elaborate light designs with giant candy canes and miniature pine trees surrounding the entrances.
Winter's touch had also graced the grounds of the School of Friendship – or as the locals had started calling it – the S.O.F. Academy. The giant pond that served as part of the main entrance was frozen over, with gouges crisscrossing the area designated for students to try their hoof, talon, or claw at ice skating. Even the waterfalls had iced over, but in such a way that the water flowing behind was still visible.
Inside the building, behind the frosted glass windows, all the students were attending their last class of the day. Most would be happy to just be on their last hour, eager to be done so they could hang out with friends after hours, hit up the town, or to just take a needed nap. But today everyone was in a jovial uproar, for today was one of the days that everyone that went to school pined for.
Winter Break.
In the typing class, the clatter of typebars striking parchment was almost drowned out by the loudly chatting teens going on about how they would spend their two weeks of freedom. Most would be doing the usual of going home to their families and doing whatever they wanted to do for a change. They could play out in the snow until their limbs were numb, and then warm themselves up by the fire with a hot chocolate or apple cider, then stay up late watching movies or playing games. Some were even lucky enough to be heading someplace tropical.
Typing away at a much higher rate than his peers, Gallus hammered away at the keys, intending to take his speed record even further up the chart. With a soft chime, he reached up and smacked the carriage back to the right and continued without pause.
“You know,” the griffon said loudly over the din of the other machines. “This is the only boring class that I don't mind. But, I don't see why Twilight won't upgrade it to a computer class.” he didn't even bother to hide his annoyed tone. “Just think about it, why do we use these dusty old things when we could just type it into our systems at twice the speed. And if we mess up, it's an easy fix.”
Ocellus took a break from typing on her hoof model typewriter – the same as all the other hooved students – and leaned towards her griffon friend while rubbing her fetlock. “Well, this school did just open up not too long ago, so I guess they didn't have the funding. But I can't help but feel that Twilight and Applejack aren't big fans of computers. I heard them say things like remember those Flim Flam Brothers and their crazy computerized apple harvesting machine they sold to Granny. It didn't end well. Or I don't like the idea of machines doing all the work in learning. Don't get me wrong or anything, I love them, but there is a fine line between us and magic, and those rules should apply to machines as well. ”
The changeling opened up her machine, pulling out her finished paper and replacing it with a fresh sheet from the box her and Gallus were sharing. As she fed the new one in and adjusted the alignment, she continued the discussion. “I believe Rarity was the one who suggested a class, along with Rainbow Dash.”
The disembodied head of Smolder popped up over the divider that separated the typing stations on their desk, an incredulous look on her face. “Really?! Professor Dash wanted a computer class?!”
“Yes,” Ocellus answered. “It had something to do with The Wonderbolts.”
Just then, Silverstream lifted off from her seat and began to do lazy circles just above their heads. “Ya, I saw it on the news a while back,” she informed them. “The Wonderbolts were installing computer mainframes at all their bases around Equestria for testing and training purposes.”
“You know,” Gallus started. “That makes perfect sense if you think about it. The Wonderbolts want to be the best, and if computers couldn't help them train to better, they wouldn't even bother with them. And Dash wants us to be the best that we can be too, right?”
“Yeah, but starting a computer class seems pretty eggheaded to me.”
The griffon felt a pang of disdain at that, which he let known. “Rainbow dash is not an egghead, Smolder. And neither is her computer class.”
The dragoness held her hands up in surrender. “Easy there, birdie. It's just a joke, nothing serious.” She felt like saying more, but a talon near her face stopped that.
“Sorry, can't talk now! My fav song is on the air!” With that, Gallus pulled his left headphone back over his ear and resumed his typing while bobbing his head to the beat.
Believing that he couldn't possibly hear over the music and the generally loud atmosphere, Smolder smirked and leaned towards Ocellus. “But isn't it eggheaded to learn how to program in BASIC and C?”
The little changeling tittered as the griffon suddenly stood up and brought his talons down onto the table. “Yeah! Well I...! Y-you...!”
Gallus so wanted to make a great comeback, but his beak just wouldn't cooperate. Rather than risk losing anymore face by trying to stutter out something witty, he conceded defeat and sunk back down into the seat with crossed arms and a derisive snort. “Whatever.”
Yona had been silent for the most part, focusing all her will unto the machine before her. Her hooves came down slowly and methodically onto each key, but each time she so much as thought about picking up the pace, the whole desk would shake like an earthquake. Luckily, her slow and steady pace had paid off, because she had just a few more pages to go before the session ended. Still, she couldn't help herself.
“Smolder one, Gallus zero, and Yona always number one.”
The rest burst into laughter as the griffon flushed red in embarrassment. Smolder laughed the hardest – of course – and was also the last to simmer down into chuckles. “Oh wow,” she chuckled. “It's a good thing for you that Sandbar took a sick day to go wait in line at the game shop. He woulda had a field day here. Oh well...”
Smolder dropped down out of view behind the divider and fell back into her desk chair. The others soon joined her, eager to blow away the last few minutes of the day by finishing their assignments so they wouldn't have any distractions over the break.
Five minutes later, and the sounds of typing had faded to just a few machines still going. Everyone else had finished their work and were waiting anxiously with their bags for the bell to ring. Ocellus was the first to straighten out her stack of notes and staple them together, with Gallus coming in an uncharacteristic second. Ember and Silverstream tied for third, and Yona was the last to finish up. Then the bell rang and everyone made their way to the door in an excited mob, tossing their work onto the teachers desk as they passed.
Once out in the hall, the five made their way to the dorms with the griffon jogging ahead of his companions. “Well girls, I gotta go get my bits and my winter hoodie. We'll all meet back in the courtyard, yeah?”
“Yep,” Silverstream chirped. She then had to shout because the griffon had turned down an adjoining hallway. “Don't take too long now!”
“I won't!” came the muffled reply from around the corner.
As soon as Gallus was sure that the hallway he had taken was truly deserted, he maxed out the volume on his player and began to walk in step with the beat. He had also started humming the tune, but as the second chorus began to sing so did he. “It feels so good on the dance floor, clap your hands! Move in time, clap your hands! Something new! A fire's burning in my heart, want to be with you. Feeling something new-”
Just as he was really getting into the groove, a large mass moving at a decent speed slammed into his back and sent him down to the floor. With a drawn out huff, Gallus got onto his knees and rubbed the back of his head while looking around to find the headphones that had flown off. He found them – or rather heard them – still playing behind him, but when he looked over his shoulder and saw just who had knocked him over they became the least of his worries.
“Ah damn!”
He quickly got back on his paws and ran over to Headmare Twilight, who was also trying to scramble to her feet with limited results. “Are you okay Miss Twilight?! Here, let me help you.”
With their combined efforts, Twilight was on her hooves and she hastily picked up her dropped belongings with magic. “Yeah, I'm fine. No, late! I gotta get to the station or I'll miss my train to Canterlot!”
She looked at her watch. “Oh no! I won't make it in time by just flying!”
As Twilight's horn powered up, Gallus reached for his tape player but spotted a silver plastic card under it that wasn't his. He snapped it up and made to give it to the headmare, but she disappeared in a blinding flash that left him reeling. After a second of shaking the stars out of his eyes, he grimaced through his rapidly building migraine. “Every time. Why does she have to teleport every fucking time.”
Knowing that it was pointless to try to give the card up to nothing but empty air, he held it up to his eyes to see what it actually was. And it didn't take a genius to figure out what the string of numbers on the front of it meant.
“It's her credit card. Ooh, it’s a platinum!”
The good in Gallus demanded that he take a few seconds out of his day to swing by Starlight's office and pass the problem off to her, but the griffon in him wanted to hold onto the card for use later – which made perfect sense seeing as Starlight was most likely out of her office at that point anyway. With a wicked grin, he pulled out his wallet and slid the platinum in next to his red debit card. “I believe I'll be holding onto you until after winter break.”
With the little distraction out of the way, he swiped the dirt off of his headphones and got them back onto his ears – ready to continue his dance to the dorm rooms.
The dorms given out to the students certainly weren't the biggest in the world, but they were a good fit for most – including him. They were each furnished with a decent sized bed, a small writing desk next to the window, and an attached bathroom with a shower. It was the students choice of how their dorms were to be decorated, and Gallus had set his up just like his room back home. Various posters of popular bands, musicians, and video games lined the walls, some new and others faded from time. The oldest ones were hand-me-downs from Gilda, and the others were collected personally from magazines and the like.
The chaotic mess that was his bed and floor were of no concern as he navigated his way into the room. He unshouldered his heavy duffel bag and dropped it unceremoniously onto the messy bed, and then set about undressing. His clothing for the day came off, first the blue hoodie, then the matching pants – which were kicked off into the pile of dirty laundry in the corner. Down to nothing but his black boxers, the griffon sauntered over to the desk that held his pride and joy.
Two monstrous rectangular boxes of a beige coloration with black inlays in the front of each were positioned as far to the right edge of the desk as possible. The bottom box had a row of toggle switches running across its face and Graphic Max 8000 was emblazoned in the lower right corner.
To the left of the stack was something that resembled the screen of an arcade machine, but instead of being in a console with a sole joystick and a few large buttons to keep it company, this was located in an enclosure made of beige plastic with an attached keyboard comprised of well over fifty individual black keycaps with gray keycaps for the ones with important functions.
With a muted thunk, Gallus flipped the main power switch and the machine whirred to life with a positive beep. He then powered on the monitor which crackled into action with the added displeasure of causing the fur on his wrist to stand on end, but the benefits far outweighed that. After a few more seconds to warm up the monitor, he reached back to the box and flipped several more of the switches, a staccato clicking adding to the already impressive sound. With all the necessary stitches flipped and their accompanying diodes lit up red, a few strings of text appeared on the screen.
Searching for boot record from floppy... done.
Starting SK-DOS 7.1
HIMEM is testing extended memory... done.
Knowing that he was now in business, Gallus pulled the chair out and sat down before the screen. With practiced ease, he rested his talons on the keyboard and quickly inputted a series of commands that would bring him closer to the goal. The final command he typed was DOORS, and a strike of the enter key brought the computer to a black screen. It hung for a few seconds, then the screen flashed to an image of a door with inlays of red, blue, yellow, and green opening outward.
The screen went to a background showcasing a pixelated aquarium, and a small, spinning hourglass made its home directly in the center. Once that went away, he grasped the mouse in his talons and dragged the cursor over to the stack of icons and selected the one at the bottom that was a giant letter E titled Equestria Online. It opened up to display a prompt for a username and password which Gallus entered in.
As the computer processed, he took the opportunity to get out of his seat and head over to the closet that contained all his clean clothes. He pulled out a black sweater, long cargo pants, a pair of tube socks, clawless gloves, and a hooded black jacket. With his selection completed, he placed the pile of clothes onto the bed and grabbed the pants. As he slid them up his legs, he heard the computer tell him something he had heard countless times before.
“Welcome! You've got mail!”
With pants zipped up and socks on his paws, he got back in the seat and navigated to the inbox. Once, in, he filtered through the newly accumulated mail for anything important. “Junk, junk, junk, and more junk. No, I don't want to make my cock bigger with pills. Ah! Telegram from Griffonstone.”
His smile grew more and more as he read through it.
Dear Gallus,
Hope you've been eating well and are having fun at school. We do miss you here in Griffonstone, but we know that school has been doing great things for you. Since your grades have been so good as of late, we have decided to give you a small bonus to your allowance, for the holidays. We also got you a present that you'll absolutely love, and it should hopefully get to your box in a day or two. We all hope you like it.
P.S. Remember to brush your teeth!
He grumbled slightly at that last bit. Once a week was more than enough for anybody, or it was in his mind at least. He was more concerned with the mystery gift – not so much the gift itself – but the delivery. Gabby was a great carrier, but her efficiency was mostly rendered useless by the poorly maintained system that employed her. Gallus knew that griffon post was iffy at best within the country, and him being overseas would add a whole new level to that problem. It’ll come when it comes, I guess. May as well just focus on what’s now.
He went the final few emails looking for anything else of importance, but with them being nothing but useless ads, he powered down the system and finished dressing. He then reached under the bed and pulled out a pair of black leather pawboots and slipped his paws into them. His talons made quick work of the laces, and he was set. With bag back in hand, he walked out of his dorm and locked the door behind himself.
Meanwhile, out in the snowy courtyard, the rest of the gang had picked the area with the least amount of wind possible to await their friend. The cold air temperature wasn't so bad for equines – provided they had dressed accordingly – but the windchill was enough to send anybody packing. Well, most anybody.
Yona giggled heartily as she swept her arms and legs through the fluffy snow, glad to once again be in her element. “Yes! Yak loves winter!”
While the yak was more than fine laying in the snow in nothing but her dress, the others had at least dressed the part, with Silverstream wearing a puffy down purple jacket with long black pants and black calf-length boots.
Ocellus was the most heavily clothed, with a huge light blue hooded parka that hung down to her knees keeping out the cold, with a pair of matching insulative ski pants and boots. But even with the hood of the covering her face with only her eyes and nose exposed, she still shivered strongly. “It's s-so cold,” she complained, her voice muffled by the pink fringe around the hood. “H-how do you handle it, Yona?”
The yak snorted. “Thick yak fur keeps Yona warm in harshest of winds – just like back home. Yaks are best at everything!” With that, Yona got out of her imprint and proceeded to dive headfirst into a nearby snowbank and throw snow all over the place.
“What about you, Silver?”
Silverstream held out her tongue, catching a falling snowflake on the tip. She brought it back in, noted that tasted of snowberries, and turned to Ocellus. “I'm kinda used to it. Seawater can get pretty chilly, especially when you go deep. Still wondering why you get so cold, though.”
“I believe it’s because us changelings live in a relatively warm location. I mean, It still does get cold at night in the badlands, but the hive is geothermally heated.” Another bout of shivering wracked her body. “I-I wish I had a hot water bag.”
The crunching of snow drew their attention to Smolder who was jogging toward them, clad in her winter gear of a blaze orange hoodie, blue sweatpants and a pair of purple snow boots. “Sorry that took so long,” the dragon said once she was close enough to not have to yell. “I just could not find my other boot.”
She then looked at the nearby snowbank – and the yak that was rolling around in it – and put her claws on her hips. “What did I miss? Apart from Yona being Yona.”
Silverstream smiled. “We were just talking about how Yona can handle winter with barely anything on while Ocellus freezes no matter how much she bundles up.”
“Well then, we should get this over with soon, and that means waiting on... nevermind then.”
The three watched as Gallus flew out the entrance and came in for a decent landing by them. “So guys, ready to go buy Spell Questing Online?”
“You know it!” the three shouted as the started running in the direction of town.
Gallus then looked over towards Yona, who was still in the snowbank. “Come on, let's get going.”
Yona didn't respond, to engrossed in her play to notice anything else. Knowing that words alone couldn't dissuade a yak once they set their minds to something, the griffon scooped up a clawful of snow and packed it down into a small ball. This should end the fun... for a second at least.
The tossed snowball hit its mark, and it did have the intended effect of getting Yona's attention. Unfortunately, it had struck her right in the face, and an evil smile grew on her features as she swiped it away. Gallus laughed initially, but that turned into him backing away slowly as he saw the snowball that she was rapidly creating. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow when he saw that the finished product was bigger than his head, and that even Yona seemed to be struggling to lift it.
Once she had hefted her snowboulder above her right shoulder, she chuckled. “Nobody snowballs Yona and gets away with it!” she yelled in glee as she hurled the ball directly at his face.
The ball of white filled Gallus's vision, and it was only thanks to natural feline reflexes that he was able to duck down in time for it to fly overhead with a loud whoosh. He spun in place and tracked the snowboulder as it rocketed off in an arcing trajectory towards town. His senses piqued once again, and he took to his wings to avoid another projectile that flew harmlessly under.
He hovered above the courtyard and looked down at Yona who was furiously throwing snowballs, which were easily dodged.
“Get down here you crazy bird!”
The griffon laughed. “Not likely! Besides, this will get you to the store faster! Woah!”
As he hovered backwards while beckoning the yak towards him with his talons, Gallus's thoughts turned to the fact that he would have to land eventually, and he would really be in for it then.
In the ponyville market, a green pony with a gray vest and knitted cap was carrying several grocery bags worth of green cabbage; large carrots, glass jars of mayonnaise and sour cream, onions, bottles of white vinegar and dry mustard, with packets of salt and pepper. He sang a small tune as he trotted down the street. “Going to make some coleslaw, going to make some coleslaw. Gonna put it in my bell...”
He trailed off and came to a stop when he heard a peculiar sound coming from the sky. He looked up and squinted, trying to spot whatever it was against the gray clouds. The last thing he saw before everything went black was a mass of snow exploding in his face, knocking him onto his back with all the various glass bottles and jars flying out of their bags and shattering into one gigantic mess atop him. After a moment of hesitation, several ponies rushed over to the incapacitated pony to render aid.
Author's Note
Boy, this is the most I ever write for one chapter I wanted to be good so everyone can make great fics about them and also give it up to the editor that made it better too
Also, the song Gallus was singing too its name is "It Feels Good" here's the video to that songhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFKidUHOx6k
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Chapter 2 - Software and Blockheads (updated: Sweet and Smoky)
Author's Note
thx to the Sweet and Smoky coming to light its been updated, but if you want the old version just ask me
Chapter 2 - Software and Blockheads (updated: Sweet and Smoky)
Sandbar shivered slightly as he waited for the line before him to start moving again. Even through his green snowboarding jacket, he could feel the chill. He could also feel it directly through his black sneakered back hooves and regular black pants. Getting a pair of good boots and insulated pants had been somewhere near the bottom of his list of priorities, but now that winter had hit full swing it had been moved up a few places.
But only after he got his game.
Speaking of that, the queue that he was stuck in led to the doors of the hottest store in the Ponyville market – at least to those of his age group. For them, the signage above the entrance told the whole story. A gigantic floppy disk had been mounted to the roof of the building, and a neon sign stating the name of the business hung just below, glowing faintly against the afternoon sky. SoftWare and Games also had the distinction of being quite literally the only place that sold computer equipment in Ponyville and to surrounding communities. The store management was well aware of their solitary position, and they did everything in their power to rope in extra profits from those outliers that would only stop by once in a blue moon.
The window displays were chock-full of stacks of big box PC games with all the colors of the rainbow present; stacks of high-end software in more utilitarian casings, and several systems advertised as for sale or rent had been set up for all passer-bys' to drool over. Sandbar would have loved to own the beautiful tower PC, but the incredible three thousand bit price tag had quashed that desire for him and many others long ago.
Knowing that the line was going nowhere fast, the pony took a break from window shopping and unscrewed the cap on his stainless steel thermos and took a long drag of the piping hot chocolate contained within. The hot drink did wonders to stave off the cold, and when he had his fill, the cap went back on and he tucked the thermos between his foreleg and body – for both of their benefits.
A maniacal laugh followed by a terrified squawk drew Sandbar's attention back down the main road out of town. A little way down it he could see his friend Gallus running up while constantly casting terrified glances over his shoulder. When the griffon dodged to the side of the street and a ball of snow exploded against the spot where he had just been, the pony understood the gravity of his situation.
Even further back, he could see Yona cresting the hill at full speed while lobbing snowball after snowball high into the sky. Gallus continued to duck and weave all over the street, doing his best to dodge the endless aerial assault.
As Gallus entered the market square he shouted at the yak currently trying to destroy him. “Ok! Ok! You've made your fucking point! Now st-!”
His plea was cut short as a snowball clocked him directly in the back of the head, knocking him onto his face and into an uncontrollable skid which ended right at Sandbar's hooves. The pony stared at his downed friend for a second, then slowly looked up at the long skidmark he had left behind in the snow, and the yak who was dancing around in triumph. “Yaks always get their revenge!”
The rest of the gang came to a slippery stop behind Yona, eager to get in line for their game but not so eager as to possibly get snowballed themselves. After a few seconds to catch up on some much-needed breathing, they casually joined up with the Yak who had just located Sandbar, and any prior fears were dispelled by the fact that her forelimbs were now devoid of frozen ammunition.
Smolder took a measured glance around the winter street scene, and then stuffed her hands into her pockets and leaned in. “So, how're you holding up out here?”
Sandbar was chilled and shivering, but he still managed a dismissive shrug. “Doing okay. A little cold. I'm glad you guys got here quickly though. Lines like these really ruin my vibe.”
With an agonized groan, Gallus slowly pushed himself back to his paws. He took a few seconds to brush off some snow, and then fell in. “I'm just glad I got here without Yona burying me alive in snowballs.”
A cloven hoof coming to rest on his shoulder caused the griffon to visibly flinch, but he calmed slightly when he saw that she no longer had a crazed look in her eye. “Yak knows to stop once the fool is beaten.”
The group broke down into their usual antics as they waited for the line to move. Gallus jammed to his music while Smolder and Silverstream shared their concerns of the game being available on their systems. Sandbar chugged his hot chocolate down to the last drop and Yona drew little designs into the snow with an idle hoof. Smolder eventually excused herself to use the little dragons’ room and then trod off to find it. The rest of the gang would have carried on with their activities if not for several large shadows looming over the marketplace which had drawn their attention.
This wasn’t too surprising. There were always flyers of all types transiting the skies of ponyville, but the size of these guys could only mean one thing. Gallus could only groan in annoyance when he saw just who they were.
“Ah great, here we go again.”
With three distinct thumps, three adolescent dragons slammed down onto the street with little regard for anything.below. As though to further announce their presence, the newcomers engaged in some disrespectful and generally irritating acts, with the biggest one sweeping little bits of ice off the shoulder of his brown bomber jacket and in the general direction of the nearest pony who had been waiting patiently for the store to reopen. He then wiped the snow off his gray pants and belted snowboarding boots, and a pair of purple headphones were pulled from his head and draped over his shoulder.
He stood up straight, a scowl on his lips as he scanned around for some kind of trouble. He soon found just what he was looking for, and his expression morphed into a malicious grin. The dragon known as Garble strode purposefully toward the assembled group. Gallus himself grit his beak in disdain. The older brother of Smolder usually kept himself in check whenever his sister was around, but with the younger sibling away for the time being they were all fair game to his bullying ways.
“Well, well, well,” He approached the group. “Look what we have here boys, it's the little loser gang here to buy another lameass game to waste their weekend on.”
“Garble,” Gallus practically growled.out the red dragon's name when he all but loomed over him. “What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have someplace better, or cooler to be?”
The other two dragons – one white and one purple – finished dusting down their clothes and joined their leader. The white one, Fizzle, wore a big white winter coat with a high collar and muted pink zippers and snaps that matched his natural coloration. A pink rimmed white bucket hat with the image of a skull with crossed out eyes sat atop his head, and the rest of his ensemble consisted of black cargo pants with many pockets and a pair of oversized lace up boots. And the purple one, Fume, wore matching purple everything, from the top of his hooded jacket, all the way down to his sneakers.
Garble's carefree attitude evaporated in an instant, but he was still maintaining some level of control. “Oh believe me, I'd much rather be tearing up the slopes than hanging out in this filthy backwater. But apparently we must be too good for the local ski park, ‘cuz they kicked us out.”
“Bastards,” Fume swore.
“And that's why we're here,” he concluded. “I really wish we were back home with our hordes, but since we're here... and my sister isn't..."
Most of the ponies in the immediate vicinity shied away as the dragons came ever closer with their claws raised in a threatening manner, and Sandbar suppressed his own urge to do the same. The rest of his friends were made of sterner stuff, and stood their ground. Gallus laughed at this stupid display and looked Garble directly in the eyes.
"It's not our fault that you failed so miserably at your Dragon Aptitude Test that your Lord sent your sorry asses to the academy."
“HEY!” Garble's face went towards a deeper shade of red, and a puff of smoke came out his nostrils. “I would have passed that damned thing with flying colors if it wasn't timed. I don't do good under pressure, and if I were told ahead of time, I would have read a book or something!”
“Ha! No amount of studying would have saved you. Besides, your ability to read is highly questionable to me.”
"Alright, listen here you little blue shit! I don't know why Ember started all that testing shit, and I don't care. We dragons were fine without the so called 'smarts' ponies here love to flaunt around. We have the most gold, silver, and gems of any kingdom, and can loot many more.”
The red dragon sneered once again and his cronies did the same, believing whole-heartedly in their own logic.
“Yeah, and that's coming from a guy who can't even get the most basic of math problems right.” Gallus grinned. “Two plus two does not equal five.”
“Are you serious?” Silverstream was incredulous. “That's like, hatchling stuff right there. I mean, you could count that out on the claw!”
At that, several bystanders softly chuckled amongst themselves, but instead of quickly dying down when Garble glared at the offenders it quickly spread across the square. He tried to sputter out a quick defence but he was unable to get anything in edgewise over the laughter. Eventually he growled, threw up his arms, and stalked away. His pals were also quick to follow, rubbing their leader's back to comfort him of his embarrassment.
Nobody could really hear what was exchanged between the dragons, but it must have had an effect since he callously waved the two off and stood straight. “Whatever dude, but as long as I am fucking stuck here in this boring ass of a town I'm gonna try to make the best of it! Come on Fizzle, Fume, let's go snowboarding.”
“But, the ponies kicked us out of the park when we turned the skating rink into a hot tub,” Fume tried to remind him.
“Then we'll have to find our own mountain for dragons only!”
Garble immediately took to the skies in a blast of loose snow, the big dragon Fume also doing the same. Fizzle was left alone, and the irritated look on his face said that this wasn't new.
“I follow you everywhere,” he grumbled to himself.
“Come on you lazy slug!” Garble's roar rattled all the nearby windows. “Get your ass moving!”
“Coming boss!”
Gallus may have sounded almost jovial when he was taunting his tormentor, but beneath that sarcasm he really just wanted to scream. He’d only known Garble, through Smolder, for around three months and they’d been butting heads on a regular basis ever since. Still, getting into a fight over stupid remarks wouldn’t win him any prizes so he once again let it slide, but not without frustration.
“Damn, what a fucking asshole!”
“Hey, don’t pay them any mind.” Silverstream patted Gallus on the head. “It’s not our fault he only got a forty out of five-hundred.”
“Alright, what did I miss?”
Over all the hubbub nobody heard Smolder jog up until she voiced her concern. She then looked to the sky at the retreating dragons and remarked. “Garble? I was certain he’d head home for the break.”
“Nah,” Gallus grumbled icily. “Couldn’t get that lucky.”
The ghost of a grimace graced Smolder’s face at the insinuation, but she was quick to dispel it and retain her usual aloof persona.
“Well, now that I’m back, how about we just focus on getting our game and getting back to our machines.”
“Speaking of that,” Ocellus began, more than happy to switch gears to a better topic. “Where are we going to set up?”
Sandbar was quick with a shrug. “School library? It’s all wired up for multiple rigs already and nobody’s gonna need outlets anytime soon.”
Another grumble from Gallus put a little salt in that plan. “That means I have to lug my rig all the way down there, and that sucker is heavy.”
As Sandbar, Gallus, and Ocellus further debated that topic, a whole different conversation was starting between Smolder and Silverstream.
“So, why did you dragons have to take that test again?” the hippogriff asked.
“The way I understand it, it has much to do with our almost lack of an education system,” Smolder explained. “Sure there are scholars you could study under, but those guys almost charge an arm and a leg for their personal knowledge. So most dragons coming up in the world, myself included, are usually foregoing learning and putting their efforts into accumulating a sizable horde. And then there are those who are born into wealth and feel as though they never have to lift a claw to get anywhere in life. That’s why Lord Ember put forth measures to standardize education, hence the test.”
Finally – after what felt like hours to some – the little bells above the doors chimed as they opened and a unicorn stallion with a slicked back mane and wearing a white polo shirt with khaki pants leaned out into the cold air.
“Alright folks, the shop is restocked. Come on in and get your SoftWare and Games!”
Things started to finally move after that announcement. Creatures of all species began to enter, the doorbell ringing almost constantly as they all shuffled in to both escape the weather and complete their shopping.
Once it was their turn to enter the shop, the six were greeted by the interior sights of what they considered to be sacred ground. The walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of big colorful boxes for games with equally impressive artwork. There were also freestanding shelves and racks all around the floor, the former containing more boxed software, and the latter housing clear jewel cases with CD-ROM's inside. On either side of the store were two huge bargain bins full of older or outdated software or games that had either not sold so well, or just needed to be sold off quickly.
At the store's counter, there were several locked glass display cases that held unboxed computer components with little placards listing the price of each, and smaller all in one systems. And flanking those were two rotating racks holding books, magazines, and other assorted items. Right next to the counter, between it and the window display, were the stairs leading up to the second floor business.
And off to the right – what they and many others had come for – had been erected in the shop's downtime. The purple, star dotted display stand towered above all the others in the room, and the golden, spiky font across the logo of a ring with a crossed sword and staff that read Spell Questing: Online was just as – even though the core fanbase required no introduction. Unfortunately for the six, the display was swarmed by shoppers of all species, and they couldn't just fight their way in, so they collectively decided to do a few minutes of shopping while the mob died down.
The gang scattered to different corners of the store to locate whichever shelves applied to their system of choice. Gallus, Yona, and Sandbar didn't go for the biggest section, but rather the second biggest. It still had quite the crowd though, and they did their best to finaggle their way through. Silverstream and Smolder went deeper in and stopped by a much smaller shelf, and Ocellus went to speak with management about her special case.
“I take it you guys also run with SK-DOS too?” the griffon asked his friends as he sized up the selection dedicated to the aforementioned operating system.
“Yona does,” she answered. “Yona wanted to get Yakyakistan's newest system, the Yakard-Bell one-thousand, but Yona's daddy didn't give enough money for it. But Yona does have Yakard-Bell five-hundred. Eventually, Yona will save up enough to get it so she can prove that yaks can achieve anything with hard work!”
Sandbar shook his head. “I... rarely use it, given my system can run Doors ninety-seven no problem.”
Gallus picked out a box and flipped it over to examine the back. “Than you, my friend, are browsing the wrong shelf. CD's are over there.”
“I know, I know.” The pony held up his hoof. “But I'm still keeping my eyes out for DOS only releases. You never know, right?”
“Eh, suit yourself, I guess.”
Sandbar gave the shelf a quick once over, then went over to browse by the more crowded shelf. He really didn't find anything noteworthy there either, just stuff he already had, or had no interest in purchasing. Besides, his bits were being saved for the game he truly wanted, speaking of which...
The crowd that was mobbing the Spell Questing stand a few minutes prior had thinned out considerably , but so had the copies. Only about half of the stock remained, and the pony quickly signalled to his nearby friends the situation. They all dropped what they were doing and quickly hopped over. After filtering their way to the front of the crowd, and after Yona almost wiped out some poor sap, they all reached for their compatible copy.
Gallus and Yona both reached for the hard floppy disk version, and Sandbar picked out the CD-ROM variant. Despite the physical size of the storage mediums, the boxes that shared the same coloration and logo of the self that bore them were bigger than an average textbook – but luckily didn't carry the same heft.
With all copies now in hoof and claw, The five made their way to the main checkout, finding Ocellus standing just off to the side – sans game.
“Why are you here?” Yona joined her. “Aren't you going to get your copy?”
“Oh, I will,” Ocellus assured her. “It's in the back, there is only one copy for my system, along with my backlog of other software. Unfortunately, they're swamped with the other customers at the moment, and won't be able to handle my business for at least an hour.”
Gallus looked around and saw that there were about fifty assorted creatures crammed into the shop right then. “I can see that. Well, we can't just sit around for an hour with nothing to do,. May as well find something to pass the time while this place clears out.”
“Lets go find the others, then,” Sandbar agreed. “We can buy an hour on the computers in the internet cafe upstairs.”
Way in the back of the shop, Smolder and Silverstream already had their copies in claw, but that didn't stop them from picking up almost every game on the shelf, and gabbing while they did so.
“Looks like we may have to consider switching to a different system soon,” Smolder pointed to the few copies of games for their system on the shelf. “There aren't many games being made for our platform anymore.”
“Yeah, but the magazine stated that the manufacturer and several game publishers would still support it for the next few years,” Silverstream smiled.
“That's a little too optimistic if you ask me. Technology is always advancing, and game devs are always looking to the future.” Smolder noted the sour look on the hippogriff's beak and quickly adjusted her strategy. “I'm not saying ditch the systems outright, just... may as well start saving up now, right? That way, when the next system comes, we'll be ready.”
“So, did you girls find your copy?”
They both spun to see Gallus and the gang standing around behind them. Smolder held up her case and gave it a little wiggle. “We're good to go here. What about you, O? Got yours?”
Ocellus pointed her hoof at the service entrance. “It's in the back, but it'll be an hour or so before they can get it to me.”
“So we're gonna have to wait it out for a bit,” Gallus finished.
“Since we're gonna be stuck here for an hour or so, wanna hit up the internet cafe upstairs?”
The other five Looked at Sandbar, then looked out the windows at the worsening flurries. They liked playing out in the snow just as much as any others, but they didn't really like the idea of freezing to death to do so. One of them didn't have that issue, which made it all the more surprising when she was the first to agree.
“Yona thinks that is best action we can take.”
Smolder shrugged. “I'm down, provided their rates aren't too crazy. Have you been there before?”
Sandbar shook his head. “No, but I heard its like eight bits an hour or something like that.”
“Alright. We can do that.”
In agreement of how they would burn away the next hour, the six made their way to the storefront and began their ascent up the staircase to the upper floor. The wooden steps had no trouble supporting the mixed group of pony; griffon, hippogriff, dragon, and changeling, but they immediately protested the moment Yona set hoof on the first one. She looked up at her friends innocently, and they all scrambled to the top landing. When they were out of the way, the yak bounded up the stairs two at a time, the boards squeaking all the way up.
Safely back with the group, Yona looked back down the narrow staircase. “Creaky stairs are creaky. Ponyville needs more yak buildings!”
“Nah,” Smolder elbowed her in the ribs. “Ponyville needs lighter yaks.”
After a chuckle, they all entered the doorway to the cafe. What greeted them was a darkened room with a mixture of booths and round tables holding close to forty individual systems either sitting idle with the shooting star screensaver going, or were in use by the smattering of ponies there. Once their eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough, they could see that the only true sources of light were coming from the thirty or so monitors and a row of vending machines along the right wall that were humming away happily. They couldn't quite see to the back of the room, but the almost constant clicks and clacks that had already eclipsed the soft techno coming from the ceiling mounted speakers that were hooked into the jukebox on the far side of the vending machines. The almost constant noise let them know that they would be sharing the space with a good number of others.
Directly to their left was a counter that also doubled as a glass display case filled to the brim with all sorts of data storage devices available for purchase. The mediums ranged from compact disks available as singles or packs, to floppies of various sizes in paper pouches, and even data cassettes. On top of this was a computer monitor with a register, and a somewhat bored stallion wearing a black t-shirt and jeans eyeing them up.
“You guys need to buy time on our network?”
“Yeah.” Smolder approached the cashier while pulling her wallet out. “How much for an hour?”
“Ok, for the Pears OS it's eight bits an hour each.”
They all followed his outstretched hoof which pointed at a table that was holding some of the newest computers there. Unlike the usual rectangular beige towers and square monitors they all knew, these were composed of opaque white panels with smoothly rounded corners on the towers with a pear shaped logo placed in the center of the side panel. The CRT monitors had much the same treatment, with a frame of opaque plastic and a blue panel on each side.
“For the Doors systems it's four bits each.” They followed the hoof once again which pointed towards where the majority of the systems were set up. These were of a more boxy and industrial construction that the six were more familiar with, and used the OS that the gang was most comfortable with.
“And lastly, the SK-DOS machines for two bits, but those have all been rented out for the evening.”
They looked over to the back right corner where the oldest ones were, but they were completely obscured by the group of colts huddled around. They couldn't see exactly what that group up to, but the furious clicking happening in concert with the sounds of gunfire and lasers blasting out of the speakers told them that they were playing a shooter game of some kind.
The selection laid out before them, the gang shared a moment of contemplation before Gallus walked up with four bits in claw. “We'll take the Doors. And how much for one of those subs?”
A single claw pointed to another display case to the right, but this one was the type designed to hold foodstuffs. Unfortunately, most of the brightly lit shelves had been picked clean by earlier customers, leaving only the bottom shelf which was filled with plastic wrapped sub sandwiches, and the next shelf up had a single case of Sugar Cube Corner doughnuts remaining.
“Two bits a piece,” the clerk stated as he pulled one out for the griffon. “Five for the doughnuts.”
Gallus exchanged the bits for the sub and walked over to a table that held enough systems for them all. The rest also bought their subs and followed their friend in, with Ocellus buying up the doughnuts as well. That left Yona, who had a goofy grin on her face.
“Yona would like to buy eight sandwiches.”
The cashier looked like he was about to argue, but then seemed to realize that arguing with a Yak would be bad for business. “That will be sixteen bits,” he said as he rapidly placed the eight on top.
A pile of bits were left behind as Yona gathered up her late afternoon snack and went over to one of the drink vending machines, where she spent the next few minutes buying fourteen cans of Rush.
When she had finished and rejoined the group, they were already typing and clicking away at whatever computer-related activities they had each chosen. They had only taken a few nibbles of their food, but that changed the moment Yona distributed most of her drinks to them. Then she squeezed into the last available seat and wiggled the mouse to wake the computer. A double-click on a desktop shortcut brought up the internet browser, and as the front page opened she took the time to unwrap one of her sandwiches. The wrapper with a sticker that denoted the ingredients as cheese; lettuce, tomato, onion, and pickle was tossed in the nearby waste bin, and she took a gigantic bite followed by an equally large gulp of soda.
The rest were all doing mostly random things. Gallus and Sandbar drifted from one website to another – each trying to outdo the other with how absurd their searches could be, and laughing the whole time. Silverstream was updating her personal blog about life back on land, in Equestria, and the magic of stairs. Ocellus was visiting an encyclopedia, brushing up on her ancient equestrian history and then switching over to that day's news. And Smolder was busy trying out the games that were preinstalled.
After what felt like an hour of aimlessly wasting time by chatting about random topics and reading random blogs, the allotted time was up and they all gathered their empty cans and torn wrappers and filled the trash can to the brim. Then they all shuffled back down the stairs to see that the last rays of sunset were filtering in through the shop's front windows.
The crowd that had inundated the place earlier had almost completely dispersed, with only a few shoppers remaining to browse the almost bare shelves for any software of their liking. This also had the added benefit of allowing the six a straight shot to the back door that led to the storage area, where a neon yellow pegasus stallion with a brown mane and stubbly beard, and wearing a green shirt that had I love BASIC printed across the front in bold white lettering was waiting for one of them.
“Ah Ocellus, I got your copy right here. Man, this is the first I've seen anyone in this town buy software for that platform in a long time, since maybe when I was still a colt.”
The changeling smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I get that a lot. How much for the game and the rest of that software backlog you guys are holding for me?”
“For that game, fifty-five bits. For everything else, since it's just been collecting dust and hogging up space in the back, and because we have a shit ton of 'em and need to clear up shop, how does forty for the lot sound?”
“That sounds good,” Ocellus agreed. “And it will be shipped to my address?”
“Of course. Dorm 3 at the academy, correct?”
“Yes, that's right. And I will be waiting for it.”
The changeling hoofed ot ninety-five bits from her wallet – a feat that wouldn't have been possible without the few ten and twenty bit pieces she floating around inside – and exchanged them for a box that was considerably bigger than the ones that the rest of the group were carrying.
Finally, they all had what they came for. Once they departed the shop and began to trod back to the school in the winds of the freezing twilight, their excited chatter kept any of the cold's effects away for the time being.
“This is so awesome!” Silverstream clapped her claws together.
“We can finally explore the world together!” Sandbar added.
Gallus hovered slowly alongside them. “Don't forget about the dungeons we can now crawl through.”
“And be able to carry out all the loot!” Yona all but screamed. “Yona's loot!”
“Oh har har!” the griffon laughed. “Nobody carries out more loot than good ol' Gallus.”
“You wanna go again?!”
Gallus wisely put a little distance between himself and Yona, opting to hover on the other side of the street.
“Yona is only kidding,” she reassured. “With this new game we can just duke it out online. Yona challenges Gallus to a loot-off!”
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Chapter 3 - Hardware and Inconvenience ( Part 1/3 )
As the gang entered the double doors that served as the entry to the main reception area, they all sighed in relief as the warm air washed over them. Once again, they were a creature short, with Sandbar having taken a detour to his home on the other side of town to gather his system.
“Wow, I'm sure glad to be out of that !” Silverstream exclaimed as she unzipped her jacket while looking back at the slowly closing entryway.
“I 'an 'inally 'ake my hoof 'own.”
“Um, what?” Smolder gave Silverstream a questioning look, but all she got in return was a confused shrug.
With a sigh, Ocellus pulled her jacket zipper down a bit and pushed her hood back. “I can do that.”
“Yeeaahhh,” Gallus drawled out before bringing his talons together. “Right. Our best bet for getting our systems down to the library without breaking anything is to borrow some service carts from the cafeteria. Dinner is in an hour, and we should have them back by then, not to mention with the break this place is gonna be a ghost town, so they probably wouldn't even be missed.”
“Alright, sounds like a plan.” Silverstream took wing and hovered ahead, the rest following right behind. Get several carts for the five of us, then meet up at the library.”
“I won't need one,” Ocellus interjected. “My system has wheels on it.”
Her four friends raised a collective eyebrow at that admission. When they thought deeper into the subject, they realized that none of them even knew what system their changeling friend ran with.
“What kind of rig do you have, anyway?”
Ocellus didn't bother hiding her wry grin from Gallus. “I could tell you outright, but where is the fun in that?”
The griffon's lit up eyes indicated that he would have rather liked to be told right then and there, but another's question put that notion on hold.
“Come to think of it,” Smolder scratched her purple crest. “Have any of us seen each others systems, or dorms for that matter?”
Each creature looked to their immediate neighbor for answers, but eventually settled on mixture of shrugs and I don't knows.
Yona had a more concrete answer. “Apart from me mentioning my Yakard today, and Gallus constantly raving about his, Yona doesn't think we have.”
“We haven't seen the inside of each others rooms either,” Silverstream added. “Oh, oh, I want to see your room, Smolder! Is it true that your floors are made of lava?!”
Smolder gently pushed the excitable hippogriff out of her face. “We don't have lava floors per se, but they are heated. That's about it for things that pertain to dragons specifically, but since we’re headed that way, you're more than welcome to come take a look around.”
“Alright, enough yapping.” With a blast of air, the griffon took to his wings. “As much as I'd love to hear all about our dorms and systems, I'd much rather see them in griffon. So let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
The rest of the trip to the cafeteria was completely uneventful, and with the halls devoid of any traffic, relatively quick as well. As they neared the entrance to the cafeteria, the sounds of a kitchen in use still rang loud and true despite the beginning of the break. Once inside, they beelined towards the back of the kitchen where the carts and other implements were stored, but when they saw the head lunchmare preparing food nearby they decided that asking before taking was probably the better option.
They were about to do just that, but the lunchmare noticed them before they could and greeted them with a smile and a wave. “Hi there, Yona! Dinner's not quite ready yet!”
“That's alright!” Yona shouted over the sound of the other happenings in the area. “What is it?!”
“Oh,” the mare gathered up her freshly peeled and sliced potatoes and deposited them into a giant pot of boiling water. “The main course for meat eaters is deep fried fish fillets, and for nonmeat eaters it’s a bean, leek, and mushroom stew. Sides are mashed potatoes with gravy, and green bean casserole.”
“That sounds great!” Yona smiled as she trotted closer. “Can we borrow some of your carts over there?”
The lunchmare put the lid over the pot full of potatoes and glanced over at the silver service carts all lined up in the back corner. “Don't see any harm in it. Just... bring them back as soon as you are finished – and still in working order.”
“Don’t worry, we will!”
With the lunchmare's blessing, the four went on over and wheeled out two of the carts into the hallway, Yona pushing one and Smolder pushing another. “Yona thinks that her and Gallus should team up, and Silverstream and Smolder should too.”
“Works for us, seeing as Silver is just down the hall from me.”
They soon split up, with the hippogriff and dragon going towards their dorms, and the yak and griffon stayed their course. It was a longer haul for them, and Yona quickly voiced her desire for entertainment.
“Yak bored! Music would help!”
“Music huh?” Gallus pulled his headphones down and clawed up the volume sliders to their maximum. “I can fix that.”
The fast paced electronica blasting out the speakers wasn't exactly the yodeling folk music of Yona's homeland, but it was still better than nothing. Her friend really seemed to dig it though, and that was what truly mattered to her.
Once they had reached Yona's door, Gallus scratched his headfeathers nervously. “So... should I just wait outside for you to unhook your system? It's your home away from home after all, and your right to privacy.”
Yona giggled. “It's no problem, Gallus. Yona have nothing to hide and you're welcome to stop by anytime. Just knock first, okay.”
“Alright, just making sure, y'know. Different cultures and all that.”
As the yak jammed her keys into the lock and none too gently twisted, Gallus noted that the door itself was a fair bit bigger than the average. He also saw the golden placard on the door just like all others, with Yona spelled out plainly, followed by a clan name that the griffon couldn't even begin to pronounce. With a mild creak, Yona pushed the door open and entered, cart and friend in tow.
The first word that came to the griffon’s mind as he took in the room’s features was cozy.
The architecture of the room was the same as the griffon's, but that was where the design similarities ended. The doorway he had just entered through was a fair bit wider than the norm, and instead of a double sized bed like the majority of students, her bed was a king size, and it was placed lengthwise against the left wall – a mountain of very fluffy wool pillows resting atop.
Directly on the other side of the room was a wardrobe with the most ornate carving designs he had ever seen etched into the woodwork. The intricate swirls and shapes immediately caught the griffon’s keen eye. The attention to the small details was the polar opposite of his culture, where you were lucky to just get something simple, and even luckier to get something that had been built well. A mixture of hoof-spun rugs and canvas paintings depicting Yona's rugged homeland lined all the walls, further alluding to the fact that the tenant wasn’t the average equestrian.
A wooden tabletop spanned the entire back wall just below the window, with a lamp in the far right corner and a a cup full of quills, pens and pencils right next to it. The next thing over was a set of bronze inkwells with pointed caps, with a little box of stationary sitting behind. Far on the other side of the table was a small digital clock and a tear-away calendar that only had a hooffull of pages left on it. And in the middle of it all was Yona's Yakard.
As the duo carefully guided the service trolley over the edges and seams of each rug, Gallus gave the gray desktop unit a quick once over to note its exterior features. The computer sat horizontally with a standard CRT monitor on top, and had two expansion bays just to the right of center. They were both populated, with the three and a half inch bay housing a standard floppy drive, and the five and a quarter had a CD drive installed.
The computer was interesting, but the peripherals were what really caught his eye. He had seen many different types of keyboards adapted for hooves during his stay in equestria thus far, but the one sitting before the computer was new to him. It looked like a cross between an arcade controller and a numeric keypad, and its twenty or so buttons were much bigger than the ones on the hand and claw models. The symbols and text on the keycaps revealed that each button had multiple uses, instead of one letter, number, or function as was the norm. A small trackball had also been incorporated into the design, and it was nestled in just above the arrow keys.
After taking in the – in his opinion – most important features, he spared a final look at the logo of stylized yak head with the YakardBell 500 label that came just before it.
“What does Gallus think?”
Once they had pushed the cart up as close as possible to the table, the griffon gave out his opinion of the room. “Gallus likes it very much.”
“Glad to hear that. Yona did best to turn boring box into traditional yak dwelling. Square walls are still a little strange…”
“Square… walls…?” the griffon shook his head. “Nevermind. You need any help unhooking or whatever?”
Yona was already leaning over her system and unhooking the monitor from its desktop and power strip. “Yak got this.”
Just as she said that, a mechanical noise that the griffon wasn’t even aware of sputtered out of existence – leaving the room dead silent.
Yona laughed sheepishly. “Oops, don’t want to disconnect that one.”
The blindly unplugged cord was plugged back in, and as the mystery sound came back Gallus quickly pegged it as coming from the mini fridge next to the right table leg.
“Want something to drink?” Yona asked once she saw him eyeing the appliance.
A dismissive wave was all she got in return. “I’m still a little wired from all the Rush I drank, so I’ll pass.”
“Alright.”
As Yona once again set about unplugging, she opted to go for the peripherals first this time – starting with the speakers – and finishing with the mouse designed with cloven hooves in mind. With all the devices cradled in her arms, she then hoofed them over to Gallus.
“Here, you can roll up cables while yak figures out rest of this mess.”
Gallus took the items into his own arms and sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft crunch to begin his task. He started with the mouse, carefully wrapping the gray cord around it and then placing it on the top shelf of the cart. He followed that up with the speakers, but paused when it was the keyboard’s turn. He held it up to eye level and experimentally pressed a button, and marveled at the amount of force required for actuation. It may have been a strong force, but it was also smooth, and bottomed out with a distinctive and satisfying click. With his curiosity now truly satisfied, he too wrapped it up and set it by everything else.
Without any more items to play with – or tasks given out by Yona – the griffon decided that it was high time to try and relax, but as he laid back onto the pillow pile the mattress crunched again. He could also feel things prickling painfully into his lower back, almost like it was made out of…
Gallus quickly sat up and grabbed the corner of the sheet, pulling it away to reveal a mass of tough, golden fibers underneath. “Umm, Yona?”
Yona turned to face him with the monitor in her arms. “Yes?”
“Why is your mattress a pile of hay?”
“Because yaks love to sleep on hay! It is best bedding for yak!”
Yona placed the monitor onto the lower shelf and resumed her work on the computer. The final piece – the desktop unit – was now quite easy to get at, and it only took a moment for the yak to undo that plug and pick it up off the table. She crouched down and made to slide it onto the bottom shelf, but a problem presented itself. Straightening back up, she balanced on one leg and used her free hindhoof to violently shove the already shelved components to the farthest end.
The sound of expensive components smashing together brought Gallus back to his paws in startled awe. “Wow! You really don’t give a shit about that computer, do you?”
The scraping and crunching ended as Yona removed her hoof and placed her computer into the freshly opened space. “Yak computer built tough!” she exclaimed with an air of self-assurance. “Yak computer can take yak hoof!”
“Emph. Fair enough, I guess. Just, ah, let me take care of my system when we get to it, okay?” Gallus shuffled his paws slightly. “No offence, of course.”
“Don’t you worry. Yona knows to treat belongings of others with respect.”
With everything accounted for, and any errant cords tucked away, Yona flicked off the wheel brake and pushed the cart back over her rugs and back out to the hallway. Gallus trailed behind dutifully a few steps back, watching for any peripherals or components trying to jump ship. But after a few quick turns the griffon was sure that wasn’t going to happen, so his thoughts drifted back to the little slice of Yakyakistan known as Yona’s room.
“I gotta admit, your room is pretty epic. I wonder what kind of crazy things the others have in theirs.”
“Maybe when this is all said and done, you could visit their rooms. Just make sure to ask first.”
“Of course.”
On the other side of the academy, Silverstream and Smolder were ready to go through the door to the latter’s room. The dragon turned her key and muscled open the oversized door, and dragged their cart inside.
“It’s a good thing our rooms are really close, otherwise this may have taken way longer.”
Silverstream nodded. “Tell me about it. The yaks and griffons practically live on opposite ends of the academy. It could take Gallus and Yona forever to get their systems to the library.”
“Hopefully they can pull off a miracle and get there before us.” Smolder chuffed. “I hate waiting on that griffon.”
Smolder’s room was the same standard size as all the others, but instead of an off white carpet lining the floor, the duo’s heavy winter boots thudded against a smooth gray stone. The way the casters on the cart chinked every few feet told that the stone wasn’t a single piece, but was comprised of many hexagonal chunks with tiny cracks between them for the heat to rise between.
“This is the heated floor I’m sure you’ve heard about,” Smolder tapped the floor with the tip of her boot. “It’s nowhere near as spectacular as the rumors, but it should be warm enough to feel through your hooves.”
“Cool! Can I give it a try!”
“Sure, knock yourself out.”
Silverstream let go of the cart handle and leaned down to undo her bootlaces, deftly pulling the knot and then the entire boot off. She kept it in in her talons as she touched her socked hindhoof to the floor. She didn’t feel much at first, but a feeling of heat rising up her hoof slowly set in, and the hippogriff sighed in pleasure.
“Ooohhh! That’s nice.”
“At least you like it.”
Silverstream’s eyes bulged at Smolder’s implication. “The floor is heated ! What is there not to like?!”
“It’s a nice feature, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just a little too fancy for my tastes.”
Silverstream dropped her boot to the ground near the entrance, and the other one joined. “Well I love it, so I think I’ll enjoy it while I take a looksee around.”
And look around she did. The first thing that grabbed attention was the biggest piece of furniture, which was the bed. The head was unmade, with the mattress uncovered and pillows that sat crooked. The sheet and blanket were both bunched up at the foot of the bed, the former being bright orange like Smolders’ scales, and the latter was black with the tips of what Silverstream believed to be flames sewn into the fabric.
Across from the bed was a dresser, and mirroring the unkept state of the bed, all the drawers were pulled out to some degree. On top were a couple of framed pictures on either side of a tiny tube television, one being of the young dragon showing off her wings, and the other was one of the whole gang on picture day a few months back. The small woodgrain appliance that was the television was old to the point that the user would have to get up and adjust the multiple dials on the right side whenever they wanted to change something. And sitting atop it was a rabbit ear antenna that connected it with local Ponyville broadcasting.
Back on the bedside were several wall shelves with an assortment of books and other items related to education. The shelf that captured the attention of Silverstream however was the one that contained almost nothing but empty drink cans and bottles. The myriad of brightly colored labels along with the few odd gems in between reminded her of a fact that she had learned about dragons, which became a question that she voiced with the least amount of excitement possible.
“Is that your hoarde?!”
Smolder followed Silverstream’s raised claw to the shelves above her bed. “Nah. My family’s hoarde – if you can call it that – is back home. That’s just my can and bottle collection.”
“What about the-?”
“Impure gems. Not so good for consumption, but still nice to look at.”
The two gave the shelf a few more seconds of their attention before the dragon went over to her desk – hippogriff right behind.
Smolder’s desk was built out of a sturdy wood frame with an ebony stone top that was similar in grain and coloration to the floor. On its far left was a very cheap looking brown desk lamp that had it bulb looking down upon a sizeable geode with a thousand tiny aquamarine shards glistening within. Straight on the right side was a bag of half eaten potato chips that had been rolled up and resealed with clothespins to preserve the freshness, and it was ringed by a fortress of forgotten empty cans. And in the center – as per most setups – was the dragon’s chosen system.
The Amimmodore 6400 – as it was so labeled – was a comparatively modest platform compared to the competition. The desktop unit was made of all white plastic with a rectangular shape that tapered down into the front panel. A band of three lines went horizontally across the bottom of the faceplate, but Silverstream couldn’t tell if they served an actual purpose, or were just decorative. Above that on the right side were the disk drives, and a silver lock was directly in the top center.
“Oh wow! I didn’t know that you actually held onto these, and even wear them, too!”
Smolder’s first attempt at fishing for her power and display cables was cut short when she heard the excited squeal from behind. She immediately had a sneaking suspicion as to what Silverstream had found, and a rapt glance over her shoulder confirmed it.
Held in the hippogriff’s claws were a pair of purple panties with some very pink frills. The way she held them revealed the entirety of the backside where Bad Dragon Girl was embroidered – also in hot pink.
“H-hey! Put those down!”
Smolder was quick, running around the cart in a bid to intercept the pilfered thong, but as soon as she did that Silverstream ducked around the other side. This back and forth carried on for some time, with the dragon constantly reaching over the parked obstruction but coming up short each time. “Come on Silver! Give them back!”
Getting tired of fighting over a metaphorical barrel, Smolder clamored onto the cart and managed to secure the lingerie before the surprised hippogriff could take wing and cause even more embarrassment. With them safely in claw, she stood up straight and stuffed them into the pocket of her hoodie – they could be dealt with later.
“Wow, the big tough dragon is shy about her panties!” Silverstream calmed her laughter enough to continue speaking. “There’s no reason to be ashamed Smolder, I wear them too. See?”
Any composure regained was doused when the dragon saw her friend turn away and grab the top of her pants. Knowing what was to come, she held up her claws and tried to convince her otherwise. “There’s really no need to-”
The plea got stuck in Smolder’s throat when Silverstream dropped her pants to her knees, revealing her own lacy thong. It was black with purple trim, and it was embroidered with Boy Toy across the back – a word on each side. To drive it home even further, the hippogriff gave her tush a little wiggle, which in turn caused Smolder to gag loudly.
“Okay! Okay!” The dragon coughed several times before clearing her throat. “You’ve made your point!”
Silverstream pulled her pants back up and spun around to face Smolder. “There’s no shame in it. Like I said, they feel great – soft too-”
“Details!” Smolder hissed while making a slashing motion across her throat.
“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” the hippogriff giggled. “We are girls hereafter.”
Smolder grumbled. “Alright, fine. They’re great. Can we get my system unhooked now?”
They both set about dismantling Smolder’s rig, and with the two of them working were able to move all the components in a few minutes time. With everything loaded up and secure, they guided their cart out of the confined space and into the hallway. Smolder pulled her door shut and then locked it, and they both began the ridiculously short jaunt to the hippogriff dorms – and Silverstream’s room.
Unfortunately for the dragon, that jaunt wouldn’t be over fast enough.
“So, Smolder?”
“Hm?”
“Did you get them because they look nice, or did you get them because they feel nice?”
The weight in Smolder’s pocket grew a little heavier. “Are you seriously still on about that?”
“Inquiring minds would like to know.”
Smolder wanted that particular line of discussion to end, but she really didn’t want to give out any more information than necessary. So she chose what she hoped was the lesser of two evils. “Fine. They feel nice. Happy?”
Silverstream giggled. “Heh, that’s why I got mine too. They just felt so great. My dad flipped out when he found out what a thong was, but he also says that I’m old enough to make my own choices.”
They both rounded the corner that led to the hippogriff dorms, and Silverstream stopped the cart next to the lowest numbered door. She then pulled out her keys with a Ponyville themed lanyard attached to the ring and unlocked her door.
The room within was surprisingly clean for such an eccentric tenant, but the shelf running along the left wall full of weird and bizarre things reflected that notion much better. The standouts were a miniature waterfall with little rivulets that trickled down strategically placed rocks and into a ceramic bowl, a gigantic hourglass that hadn’t been flipped in some time, and a newton’s cradle that was still were all on display.
And probably collecting dust as well, the dragon thought.
Next to the well made bed was something that was equally, if not more enticing; a neat stack of all the great tech magazines, with the latest issues resting on the top. If it looked like it would be a while for Silverstream to get her rig transferred to the cart, Smolder would ask to look at a couple during the wait.
Across from the bed was a freshwater aquarium that bubbled away without a care in the world. Smolder knew next to nothing about fish or aquariums, but something spectacular within the glass habitat instantly drew her eye. Completely overlooking the multicolored inhabitants, she gawked at the mossy rock structure in the back where what she believed to be a waterfall of sand was trickling down the face and following every crack and contour. The sand fell somewhere out of sight, to know doubt be taken into a mechanism and recirculated to the top.
Wanting to know more, the dragon looked to Silverstream and pointed at the aquarium. “What is that?”
“My aquarium?” the hippogriff asked. “Wait. You’ve never seen an aquarium before?!”
“What? No, I’ve seen aquariums! Just, never seen one with a sand… waterfall.. Thing...”
Silverstream was immediately next to Smolder, and joined her in gawking at the feature. “I know, Isn’t it rad! The sand just keeps falling, and falling, and falling-”
The dragon held up her claw. “Alright, I get the picture. Where did you find it?”
“Just in town. Ponyville might be small, but they have, like, a ridiculously well stocked pet shop.”
“Huh, a store in town that I didn’t know about. I may have to check that one out sometime.”
They both pulled away from the aquarium and moved over to the white painted desk, which Smolder noted was bigger than her own. Just like the rest of the room, the desk was very cleanly kept, with a monitor that was positioned centrally and its accompanying peripherals positioned around neatly. The monitor itself had been stickerbombed at some point in its life, with the entire housing covered in bright, bold images. As the dragon examined it closer, she could see a mixture of comic book characters, band names, and other pop figures either fighting for space in the forefront or peeking out from the lower layers.
The peripherals were next, and apart from a pair of aftermarket bookshelf speakers, they were roughly the same as the dragon’s own set. Outboard of this setup were two objects that filled up the rest of the space; the left one being a miniature staircase with a bright silver coiled up spring sitting on the top step, and the right one being an ant farm with light shining through the back to show off their tunnel system.
All in all, it was a fine desk setup, but one crucial element was missing. It didn’t take long for Smolder to locate the actual computer, which was tucked up next to the right leg of the desk. A tower of white steel and plastic, the machine had a very basic and utilitarian design, with the only somewhat special feature being its vertical mounting of the disk drive. She only got a quick shot of the manufacturer’s tag before Silverstream blocked the view, and was only able able to see a big T at the end.
As the hippogriff crawled under the desk to undo her nicely managed cables, Smolder could see that another creature huddled under there to help would only hinder the process, so she opted to find something else to pass time.
“Seeing as the two of us crammed under that desk would only cause things to take longer, mind if I crash and flip through some of your magazines?”
Silverstream’s reply came slightly muffled. “Sure! I got the latest issue of Microchip Monthly over there.” She grunted as she struggled to undo an errant velcro strap. “Should be on the biggest stack.”
With the final go-ahead, the dragon crawled onto the bed and grabbed the topmost magazine off the stack. It was the magazine that had been mentioned, but she wasn’t really concerned with that fact. As she idly paged through, she became aware of a repetitive, metallic sound that wouldn’t stop. Looking up from the magazine, she could see that her friend had finished up with her tower and was tending to the other things on the desk.
But in typical Silverstream fashion, she had become sidetracked by something else – in this case the slinky that she was moving up and down in her palms. Then she started to sing.
“What walks down stairs, alone or in pairs-”
With a sudden start, Smolder almost threw the magazine down as she launched off the bed towards the singing hippogriff. She was about to start the chorus when the dragon roughly grabbed her shoulder and wrapped her claws around her beak.
“Silverstream, I like you as a friend, I really do. But for the love of everything that is flipping fucking good for my own mind,” Smolder fixed her with a death glare. “Don’t sing that song! It took me a whole month to get it out of my head last time I heard it!”
“Mmphkay, I mont.”
“Promise me!”
“I mromise!”
Smolder relaxed her grip and backed away from Silverstream, who in turn placed her slinky back on it’s step and crouched back down to place her unhooked tower onto the cart. With her go ahead, the dragon pulled the monitor cord up from behind the desk, then moved the monitor itself over. The final components to come were the peripherals – with the mouse and keyboard finding the last little bit of space on the bottom – and the wooden speakers went on the top.
With everything secured, they pushed out of the room and made for the library,
“This room is just one huge mess.”
Unlike Yona’s heavily decorated but relatively clutter free room, Gallus’s room looked like a tornado had ripped through the area and had strewn the griffon’s dirty laundry and some other belongings about. A fact that Yona had no problem voicing.
“Hey, it’s home to me, and I can still find everything I need.”
As Gallus marched the cart over to the desk and set about tearing down his setup, Yona got better view of the machine that the griffon had constantly raved about. Unfortunately, the aged and deeply yellowed plastics combined with scuffed up metal raised some questions.
“Are you sure your system can even run the game? It looks quite old.”
Gallus immediately straightened up and whirled around to face Yona with a defensive claw pointed in protest. “Don’t you be talking shit about about my system!”
Anypony would have felt threatened with a griffon almost roaring in their face, but when you came from a culture where yelling was a core principle, the griffons never phased her. In fact, the way they puffed up when angry always brought a giggle up instead.
“It’s cool, Gallus. Yona understand if you can’t buy something new.”
The griffon’s puffed feathers flattened slightly. “I could go and buy a new computer, but I don’t want to. Everybody thinks that what I have is too old for modern games when its still plenty good.”
“Yona supposes that it’s good to get as much use as possible out of tool before replacement. But Yona never expected such mindset from griffon who is in love with latest technology.
“Still.” The yak bent down, scooped up a small article of clothing off the floor, and tossed it right at Gallus. “You need to clean your room.”
Gallus growled deeply as he pulled the underwear off of his face. “What are you, my mom?” he asked before turning back to the arduous task of undoing his system.
Yona offered her assistance, but the griffon adamantly refused, so the yak found her way over to his bed. When she sat down on the edge of the mattress, she was surprised to hear no sounds of protest emanating from either it, or the bed frame underneath. Determined to find a weakness in the bed that wasn’t made by yaks, she began bouncing in place, and she was rewarded with soft metallic squeaks every time she landed.
Then something brushed against her side.
Yona looked down to see the corner of a magazine sticking out from under Gallus’s pillow. Thinking that it was just another tech magazine that hadn’t been finished yet and was being kept there for later, she tugged it out. However, as she did so, the color and the text on the cover started to give the yak a sneaking suspicion that the magazine was geared more towards pleasure than hobbies.
When she pulled it out fully and had it in hoof, the image on the cover caused a heat to blossom through her face and muzzle. A female griffon – a very well endowed female griffon – was staring back with a lidded gaze and was wearing a set of dark blue lingerie that seemed to expose more than cover. She quickly averted her eyes, and briefly contemplated shoving it back under and pretending that she had never seen it, but when she saw that Gallus was way too busy to notice, the young yak decided to cave to her growing curiosity and give it another look.
Gorgeous Griffon was the title that dominated the top of the magazine, in bold and neon pink lettering. There were several subtexts that ran in columns down the sides, each giving a very brief summary of the major articles within. With a trepidation unbefitting of a yak, Yona began hoofing through the pages, occasionally stopping when something interesting caught her eye.
After about ten pages of advertisements for some very distinctively shaped objects and other adult themed memorabilia, Yona had grown tired of flipping one by one. She went to flip several pages and get to the main articles, but she then noticed a folded over corner of a page a little further in. Hopefully that’s where boring advertisements end and gorgeous griffons begin.
Yona opened up the page that was earmarked, but when she did so, a folded up poster began to unfurl itself. The image – or rather – the griffon displayed on the paper felt vaguely familiar. Wanting to figure out who she was, the yak pulled the poster out fully and examined her features more closely than the one on the cover.
She had a body of light brown fur, and and her outstretched wings were of a darker brown hue. Her crest of headfeathers that hung down over her face were bright white with purple highlights, and mirrored purple patches also surrounded her piercing golden eyes. She was also sticking her tongue out through her yellow beak in a teasing manner.
Her biggest feature of course were the pair of gigantic breasts that were held by a metallic purple bra that somehow helped to make them appear even bigger. This was compounded by the fact that she was crossing her forelimbs below her breasts, squeezing them together to fully expose the words Mega on the left, and Milk on the right.
“This must be Gallus’s favorite one,” Yona commented as she flipped even further into the magazine. The rest of the griffons were also just as spectacular, and Yona really found herself enjoying the odd angles they were achieving. Self indulgence of this caliber was generally frowned upon in her culture, but she wasn’t in Yakyakistan anymore...
Gallus was oblivious to all of this, his music and system taking precedent over situational awareness. But after a few more seconds of jimmying plugs out of their sockets, he was ready to move his computer over to the waiting cart.
“Okay, that’s it. You take the screen, I’ll handle the sys-”
“Oh wow, Yona didn’t think griffons were that flexible.”
With confusion in his mind from Yona’s strange statement, Gallus turned around to see what she was on about, only to almost choke on his own tongue when he saw his all time favorite dirty magazine in her hooves. It was the one that he not only hid from the staff of the orphanage for some time, but also had smuggled into the academy.
Of course those were the furthest things from his mind at that point.
His initial feelings of shock and surprise were quickly eclipsed by shame which only deepened as he watched Yona innocently flip through the pages, and his face quickly became redder than Big Macintosh from carpentry class.
Yona – hearing strange sounds coming from her griffon friend – looked up from her reading and grinned when she saw him standing aimlessly.
“Oh, you’re done? Great! Yona can now help Gallus move… his…”
With a small note of concern, the Yak closed the magazine and set it on the bed – neglecting to tuck in the centerfold poster, and went up to her unresponsive friend.
“Umm, Gallus? You okay?”
Only getting a blank, unfocused stare in response, she rapidly waved a hoof in front of his face. After a few seconds of that without change, she got a little more physical and lightly poked him in the arm.
“Is something the mat-?”
All it took was a gently prodding hoof to cause the griffon to crumple into a twitching heap on the floor. Apart from the fact that he was still breathing, Yona had no idea what was going wrong with Gallus. After a few more seconds of deliberation, she shrugged and scooped up his limp body and placed him on the top shelf of the cart. If the griffon needed some kind of medical attention, he would need to be transported there, and the infirmary was near the library.
After negotiating her way out of the griffon’s room, and the griffon dorms themselves, Yona found herself pushing the fully laden cart down the hall that led to the library. At the very far end of the hall – past the library entrance – she could see Smolder and Silverstream rounding the corner, and she quickened her pace.
Both parties soon arrived at the entrance to the small seating area and drove their carts in. Once they had stopped, Smolder was the first one to reach Gallus’s side.
“What did you do to him this time, Yona?” The dragon accused while pointing at the unconscious griffon, who was mumbling incoherently.
“Mmm… Gilda…”
Yona shrugged. “Beats Yona. He was just unhooking his system, yak was reading magazine, and then…”
Smolder gave her attention to Gallus’s limp form for a few more seconds, than took a step to see all the systems on the bottom shelf of the cart. Her eyes immediately gravitated to the oldest, and biggest machine present, and a questioning look graced her features.
“Can that old thing even run it?”
As Smolder spouted off her question to nocreature in particular, Silverstream flew over to check on Gallus.
“Don’t you be talking shit about my system!”
The dragon jumped back in shock and surprise and the hippogriff nearly hit the ceiling as Gallus suddenly came back to life, his entire body arcing up like something out of a horror movie as he pointed an irate claw in her general direction. He then grabbed the edge of the cart and pulled himself into a sitting position, looking around in bewilderment at the different surroundings.
“Umm, how did I get to the library? And why am I on the cart?”
There was a quick, wordless exchange between yak and dragon, which was settled when Yona cleared her throat. “Yona have no idea why you passed out like that. She was just reading your magazine when you seized up and collapsed. Yak placed griffon on cart to take him to library, or doctor if need be.”
“But your good now, right?!” Silverstream came back down from the ceiling to hover awfully close to Gallus’s face. “How many claws am I holding up?!”
The griffon dismissed her claws with a wave of his own. “I don’t know, all of them?”
Silverstream cheered. “Great, that means your fit as a fiddle! We can carry on without wasting time at the nurses’ station!”
“Nice to see you care about my wellbeing, Silver.” With a groan and a huff, Gallus gently slid himself off the cart and onto his paws. “Let’s just get this over with so we can all game in peace.”
“Yona once again agrees! Let’s get to work!”
With Gallus still too winded to fly, and Yona and Smolder as designated cart pushers, that left Silverstream to hover over to the double doors and hold them open for the rest to pass through into the S.O.F. library.
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Chapter 3 - Hardware and Inconvenience ( Part 2/3 ) (updated: Sweet and Smoky)
Saying that the library was huge would have been an understatement. Even after multiple visitations for study, the immense size still humbled them into awed silence. The ground floor straight ahead of them was devoid of any bookcases, instead having a librarian’s desk front and center, and two rows of desks that stretched much further in. The actual library component was bordering the central causeway, arranged in many tiers with ornate crystal guardrails that allowed visitors to the higher floors to look out over the expanse without falling.
The humbling quiet only lasted for a few seconds before Silverstream whooped and ascended up to the massive skylights that ran the length of the building, glad to be able to stretch her wings despite the library policy towards noise and reckless flight. With a commanding view of the entire area, her keen eyesight was able to make out all the markers hanging off the columns that denoted what each section was all about. In some areas, a large flag flew to showcase the particular region or nationality that the archive catered to. From the eastern continent of Griffonstone to the cold mountains of Yakyakistan; from the bone dry desert of Klugetown to the heights of Mount Aris – everything in the known world was covered.
A sharp whistle drew the hippogriff’s attention back to her friends, whom she glided back down to. They were already heading down the causeway, and she came in to hover alongside them with a question already coming out her beak.
“So, where are we setting up our battlestation?”
“Yona remembers Ocellus saying she would leave us a trail to follow.”
Smolder was the first to voice her frustration at the turn in events. “Kinda wish she’d just tell us where the spot is instead of doing the whole sneaky changeling thing.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Gallus stated as he marched alongside, free of any aftereffects of his unconsciousness. “Just spot the clues and follow the trail. Besides, you have a guy with the best eyes in the land to help you out.”
“Well, we better find it soon, cuz I don’t want to spend the next ho-”
Smolder tripped over something on the ground, and as she fell her now driverless cart crashed into the other with a resounding clang. She stared at the collision in muted horror – hoping that none of the systems were damaged. Luckily, Gallus was quick to stop the runaway cart, and the dragon threw a snarling look at the book that had tripped her up.
“Sorry, musta missed that one. Luckily you found it.”
The griffon’s chuckle at her expense was lost on the dragon as she picked herself off the marble floor and dusted down her sweater. Her energy was spent picking up the book – examining it – and then haphazardly tossing it onto a nearby bench. She then took wing and hovered over to the griffon.
“Alright Gallus, seeing as the best eyes in the land failed to spot that book, you get to push the cart while Silver and I look for clues.”
Before the griffon could protest – which he most certainly did – Smolder had flown ahead to join Silverstream, who in turn shouted back.
“Whelp, let’s get to following the trail then!” she proclaimed, for once fearless of the grouchy librarian that would usually shout her down.
Yona and Gallus followed their flying friends along, keeping their eyes on the duo for any form of signal. It came in the form of a pointed claw from Smolder which pointed to another loose book sitting face down on the side of the walkway. They all stopped around the clue, trying to figure out where the next one was, until a hippogriff took off down a row of bookcases with an excited shriek. So they followed.
As they followed the trail deeper into the archive, the world around them got darker. Only a few lights near the ceiling cast a dim glow between the bookcases, which were also becoming more cramped together. The carts were forced to proceed single-file, with Gallus following behind Yona. The books themselves – despite having been moved here a few months back – were already showing disuse, with dust settling on them and a combination of cobwebs and dust bunnies taking up the few vacant spaces.
After a few more minutes of fruitless navigation through the maze of bookcases, Gallus voiced what was running through his mind. “You sure this is the way? I haven’t seen a clue for some time, have any of you?”
A chorus of mumbled negatives were the answers he received.
Smolder leaned towards Gallus. “I hope this is the way. Otherwise we could be stuck here finding a way out. I know Twilight wants us to have the best education possible, but a library big enough to hold a small village is completely overkill!”
The surroundings had changed once again. The walkway between shelves widened up and the books and the floors were better kept. After a few more turns, Yona squinted at something ahead and quickened her pace, a smile playing on her features as she pushed the cart at trotting speed. “Guys, look! Yona thinks she found a way!”
The other three followed close behind the yak as she disappeared around a brightly lit corner. When they rounded it, their moods brightened when they emerged into natural sunlight once again.
Once their eyes had adjusted, they all became stunned at what they had stumbled upon. This far-flung corner of the library looked more like a ski lodge than a reading nook, with large plate glass windows from floor to ceiling showcasing some of the mountains and waterfalls of the Ponyville area. As they’re eyes climbed towards the ceiling, all they saw were more glass panes that were positioned with enough angle to allow snow and rainwater to flow off with ease, which ran up and mounted into the main building above.
They had no idea if the area they had entered was what Ocellus had chosen, but it was spectacular nonetheless. The way the waning, evening sunlight played off the glistening waterfalls and tree covered white peaks made this little discovery worth it, even if it wasn’t the spot.
“Oh wow! Ocellus found us a great spot to play our game together!”
Smolder wasn’t entirely sold on that notion, until she – and everybody else – followed Silverstream’s excited pointing. Just to the left were two tables that had been pushed together, with three large wooden lounge chairs on each side, and a final upturned book sat smack in the center.
Gallus completely abandoned his cart and flew over to the tables. “That’s for sure! C’mon guys, bring those carts over so we can get to work!”
Yona effortlessly turned her cart and joined the others at the table. With no volunteers present to push the other cart, Smolder grabbed the handles once again and muscled it over to the side that the Yak wasn’t on. From there, they all gathered around and reversed what they had all undone earlier by grabbing their systems and setting up. They argued over who would have to sit by who for the rest of the night, but that was figured out easily enough. Once the machines were situated with enough elbow room for all, only two potential problems remained.
Gallus was the first to announce this, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Okay, this spot is great and all, but it will mean nothing if we can't power our systems, or get a line out.”
They began to look for outlets, first in the vicinity of their table, then broadened their search to the room at large.
“Hey guys, I found some over here!”
Smolder waved the rest over to where she was crouched down. One of the bookcases next to the wall had been scooched out, and the dragon was pointing at a service panel with twelve equestrian standard power outlets.
“Sweet, and it’s a good thing there’s twelve of them, cuz I so wasn’t in the mood for hunting down power strips for all of us,” Gallus stated.
With outlets located, they all found the plugs to their machines and plugged them into the sockets. After that, they flipped the breaker switches on their computers and were rewarded with some beeps from some, and standby lights lighting up on all.
A low rumble brought everybody’s attention away from their battlestation and onto themselves. They looked to each other for the source of the interruption, until it happened again and four sets of eyes locked onto Silverstream. All she could do in her defense was hold her forelimbs up and shrug. “I think it’s time for dinner.”
Yona was – of course – the first to agree to this. “Yeah, Yona feeling a bit peckish as well.”
A quick peek at his watch brought Gallus on board as well. “Shit, we only have five minutes before dinner. Alright, we can come back after and install our games and work on finding a phone line.”
“Sounds like a plan. That gives Sandbar and Ocellus extra time to get their systems here,” Smolder added.
“But, how do we get there from here?”
Silverstream’s concern almost put a damper on their new plan, but Gallus came to the rescue.
“If memory serves me right – which it always does – this little side exit will lead us back to the central atrium,” the griffon stated as he jogged over to a single door and pushed it open. “It’s supposed to be for staffers only, but let’s be honest, nobody really cares.”
With a collective sigh, the other three decided to follow Gallus’s lead and take the detour to the cafeteria. The set of corridors and doors that they pushed through weren’t off limits to students per-se, but rather were designed to ease congestion by giving all the creatures that maintained the school their own set of service corridors to keep things efficient. That was proven when they reached the central atrium in under two minutes where they spotted Ocellus sitting on a bench with a hardcover book open in her hooves.
“Ocellus! The spot you picked is awesome!”
The changeling closed her book and hopped off the bench, grinning widely as she approached the group. “I know, right. I saw our professors use that spot for board meetings before, and I always wanted to use it for something like this since.”
“Woah woah woah! How do you know about that spot, and how do you know they use it for board meetings?”
When Gallus saw Ocellus point a hoof at herself, he chuffed and crossed his forelimbs. “Right, changeling.”
“I do have one question, though.” Smolder held up a claw. “Where is your system? We’re all set up, and we didn’t see any other machines there, so what gives?”
“Well, there’s the mountain of cables that have to be carefully unhooked and wound up. I also have to make sure all the components are secure in their cabinets before transport, but all that can wait till after dinner.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just what kind of a system do you have?”
“A big one, and I’ll need everycreature’s help to move it.”
Smolder held her head in her claws and dragged them down her face. “Alright, after dinner we’ll all head down to your dorm and help you move it. I’m sure everyone here wants to see this mystery system that we’ve absolutely heard nothing about.”
With the gang now only one member short, they made their way to the cafeteria, a discussion revolving around them about the new game they had yet to play. That carried them all the way to the miniscule line of students queuing for their dinner, whom they were about to join when…
"Move it, losers!"
As though on cue, Garble and his friends strolled up alongside the queue and muscled their way into line just in front of Gallus, who immediately took offense.
"Hey, you cut the line!"
Garble pulled one of his earphones out and glanced over his shoulder as though to find out who had yelled at him, only to shrug and return to his music.
It had only been a few seconds into the encounter and Gallus was already seething. There was no way that jerk didn't see him and there was no way Smolder didn't see her brother bullying his way in. Not waiting to see if his dragon friend would also protest, he stepped forward and reached up to tap on Garble's shoulder.
"Alright, I know you- oof!"
A swipe from a barbed red tail into his legs was all it took to send Gallus to the floor with a yelp. Being a griffon, he was quick to find his footing and make ready to teach that big red bully an overdue lesson. Yona's heavy hooffalls as she strode up and delivered a livid snort gave him a boost in confidence as he knew he wasn't alone in his anger.
"Garble!"
Smolder was quick to juxtapose herself between the impending fight and stare up her nose at her much taller brother, fixing him with a disapproving scowl. "I've told you that these are my friends, and I won't have you harassing them."
Fizzle and Fume - who up to that point were largely ignorant of the altercation just behind them - had taken several defensive steps back. Drawing Smolder's ire when she was having a chat with her brother wasn't on their to-do lists for that night, and neither was a fight with a yak. All Garble did was stare back down at his sister dumbly.
"What?"
"You tripped Gallus."
"Are you kidding me?" Garble scoffed. "It's his fault for tripping over my tail!"
"I was right there!" The angered sibling pointed at the ground next to Silverstream. "Now you know what you're supposed to say."
"Oh yeah?" he leered down at her. "Make me."
Smolder had lived with Garble her entire life, so she had at least a decent grasp on how he operated. The thinnest of smiles graced her lips; she had him now.
"Gar-G-"
"Fine! Fine!" Garble all but pleaded. "I'm sorry or whatever."
In almost comically quick fashion Garble turned on his heel and stalked ahead, but Gallus did not find any of the last few seconds comical. He couldn't help the frustrated growl which had worked its way up his throat, with Yona's heavy breathing just supassing it. In their cultures – where brawling and duels were much more common – a turned back was as good an invitation as any for a fight.
"You alright Gallus?"
Gallus so wanted Smolder to just step out of the way and let things get settled, but the further away their tormentor got the more that fire waned. Yona however was still ready to rumble, and Silverstream was doing her best to keep her from advancing.
"Come on guys! All fighting will do is land you in detention, or worse!"
Silverstream's plea and the grumblings of those in line behind finally urged Gallus to settle his nerves with a breath and nod.
"Yeah. Yeah I'm good."
The foray through the lunchline was a hurried affair as the five just wanted to snag up their window seat and dine without any more issue. The menu for dinners in the winter season were all hearty and comforting in nature, and the gang all plated up on their usuals. Meat-based meals for Gallus, Silverstream, and Smolder – who also got her serving of gems – a vegetarian meal for Ocellus and in Yona’s case, several vegetarian meals.
While they were all eager to get to the booth, Gallus lagged back with a frown until Smolder was beside him.
“So what was that about?”
Smolder didn’t miss the pointed tone the griffon had used, but she still responded with a question of her own.
“What was what about?”
The griffon chuckled mirthlessly. “You’re not gonna make this easy are you?”
“Nope.”
With a heavy sigh, Gallus allowed his guard to drop enough to speak his mind. “You’re a dragon. Of all the species here, dragons are by far the most violent, yet whenever Garble screws with us, you’re always stopping us from fighting. I get that he's your brother and all but doesn't he at least get on your nerves too?”
She let out a tense sigh. “Because a fight is what he wants. I've lived in the same cave with that guy for all my life so you can bet your ass I get frustrated. Now I know you don't buy my burnt marshmallow analogy so I won't use it but I really do think that once you get to know him things'll work out."
Gallus could only grimace at that suggestion. "Yeah I'm not gonna get my hopes up on that one, but thanks for stepping in. As much as I’d love to, I really don't want to have to fight that guy."
There was certainly more which could have been said on that matter, but they had reached the table and didn’t want to drag their problems in with them, so they decided to just drop the issue and get situated with their trays instead.
Just as the five picked up their utensils, a curious sound could be heard approaching the cafeteria from the hallway. It was a very rhythmic set of squeaks and rattles – like a cart wheel that hadn’t seen a drop of oil in its life – and it paused for a moment as the doors were pushed open and Sandbar trotted through with a small wagon in tow. As he pulled the ramshackle cart past the other students, many flattened their ears back and grumbled under their breaths about the irritation.
Sandbar slowly picked his way through the tables and pulled up next to the window booth his friends always chose, detaching the cart from the harness he wore over his clothes and facing the table.
“So, did I miss anything?”
“Apart from Garble’s usual shit, not much,” Smolder informed him.
Gallus was about to cut to the chase and ask Sandbar what kind of a system he had under the covers, but somebody else beat him to the punch.
“Oh, what do you have?!”
Silverstream reached over the side of Sandbar’s little cart and lifted up a corner of the blanket covering the load. Four other creatures leaned in closer as the veil was lifted away. The reaction was pretty average when the standard hoof model keyboard and accompanying mouse were revealed – along with an average set of speakers – but their expressions lifted as the rest was exposed to light.
Gallus was the first to speak this time. “Holy shit, dude! I didn’t know you had an EDM!”
With a grin, Sandbar rested his hoof atop the ivory, modernist tower and tipped it slightly.
“Sure do. My uncle works on the factory floor, so I got a sweet family deal on it.”
“Nice.” Smolder stood up from her seat to get a better view. “I was worried that you didn’t have a rig powerful enough to handle the game, but It looks like you’re the best off out of all of us. What’s it got inside?”
The pony chuckled lightly. “This baby’s got a pinnacle two chip, a VGA card with eight megs, a sound mixer card, and one hundred and twenty-eight megabytes of RAM with ten gigabytes of hard drive space and…”
He trailed off when he noticed the slackened jaws of his compatriots. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”
“Because that’s like, almost double the amount of RAM of mine and Smolder’s machines combined!” Silverstream waved her claws around excitedly.
Yona snorted. “Yak concedes defeat, YackardBell five-hundred nowhere near as powerful as that.”
Just because his yak friend threw in the towel early didn’t mean Gallus would do the same, even though he was clearly outclassed. “Sure, it’s new and powerful. But I’m pretty sure my old beast can still keep up.”
“I want that!”
Everybody initially thought that was another student who was eavesdropping from a nearby table and couldn’t contain themselves any longer, but the skeleton crew of students sharing the room were all too engrossed in their own happenings to have really cared. That left all eyes finding their way towards little Ocellus, who quickly shrank back down into her seat with a bashful look on her muzzle.
“I-I mean, I’d love to have that.”
Smolder took a swig of her drink to wash down her potatoes, then spoke in a flat tone. "Is it bad of me that I kinda want to slap Sandbar right now.?"
"Yona think it's okay, just make sure it's not too hard."
Sandbar smiled a cheap, nervous smile as he rubbed the back of his head. “Hey now. There’s no need for that just because I have the best hardware here.”
“Heh, we’ll show you hardware ,” both Yona and Smolder murmured in unison while flexing their forelimbs.
Gallus had quickly thought up a witty remark just to get further under the pony’s skin, but the almost terrified look in his eyes forced out something much more tame.
"Hey Sandbar. Since you’ve already eaten, you wanna go to the library and get your gear set
up? We can meet up with you there once we’re finished and maybe help Ocellus out too."
Sandbar laughed nervously, his voice rising an octave as he spoke. “Y-yeah, that sounds like a good Idea. I’ll catch you guys there.”
Sandbar quickly reattached the cart and with another chorus of squeaks and rattles, the pony pulled his wagon away from the group, earning several dirty looks from the students as he disturbed their conversations for the second time.
Only to immediately reverse course and back up to the table again.
“Where in the library did you set up?”
“It’s, um…” Ocellus was going to just tell the pony where they were set up, but she didn’t want any prying ears to hear, so she leaned over and whispered it into Sandbar’s waiting ear.
Once she had explained where they had set up and how to get there, he finally departed the cafeteria.
With nothing left to distract them, the five decided that it would be best to dig into their meals while they were still hot.
“So…” Smolder started off while taking her gems and putting them between two fish fillets to make a sandwich of sorts. “What classes are we all going to choose? Something new, or same ol’ same ol’?”
Gallus had already wolfed down one of his fillets, and he had hardly swallowed before answering. “Nah, I’m good with what I’ve created. Long range is a griffon’s speciality, after all.”
Yona took a break from loudly slurping down two of her bowls of stew at the same time to state her opinion – coming dangerously close to spraying salty broth across the table as well. “Yak is best brute! Yak smash everything with giant hammer!”
Silverstream looked conflicted. “I’m not sure. My specialties are similar to Gallus’s, except for the fact that I can breathe underwater. I might try something new this time. What about you, Smolder?”
“Well I’m a dragon, so whatever can breathe fire is what I’ll be going for.”
Just as Smolder said that, the entire dining hall was bathed in a brilliant orange light as the sun began to fall behind the western horizon. That light also reflected off the bottom of the clouds, adding to the intense glow.
“Wow Smolder,” Silverstream giggled. “Looks like Celestia herself just vouched for you there.”
The dragon took a big bite out of her fish sandwich and watched the now halved orb of light slip out of sight, then drawled out. “Riight.”
Ocellus had been silently munching away at her green bean casserole, but with the others talking shop, she joined in as well.
“All things considered, and according to my notes, all your builds are pretty good. If we want the best multiplayer experience possible, we should stick to what we know best.”
Smolder chortled after taking a sip of her drink. “Yet you play a mage. Wouldn’t a more sneaky class suit you?”
“It might, but mages are the only ones who can perform illusionary magic. I’m okay with taking a hit to my sneaking ability if it means I can use a disguise to get into hard to reach places, just like a changeling.”
As their conversation winded down, so did the amount of food on their trays, and those found themselves stacked together – along with cups and silverware – and carried away to the dishwashing area by Silverstream as the other four gathered their things and got out of their seats. The hippogriff quickly rejoined the party and they headed for the door and to the central atrium.
They found Sandbar waiting there with his now empty cart still in tow, a bemused expression on her face. “Great spot you picked, Ocellus,” the pony chuckled. “Especially the winding path through the underused sections of the library.”
Smolder gasped, then fixed the small changeling with a disapproving stare. “You made him go through that maze!”
“Ah pfft!” The cart pulling pony waved a dismissive hoof. “It wasn’t that bad. Going through the tight spaces with my cart was a little challenging, but I managed.”
“Well, since we’ve all seen the path through the library, how about we bring Ocellus’s system in the easy way.”
“Technically, it’s the only way since my machine wouldn’t fit otherwise.”
Sandbar pointed his hoof towards the changeling. “What kind of rig do you have, by the way?”
The chorus of irritated groans told him the answer wouldn’t come easy.
Gallus’s response was the closest answer he would get.
“That’s the same question everyone else here has asked at some point, but the little bug can’t seem to provide a straight answer.”
Ocellus once again smiled sweetly. “Just be patient for a little longer. We’re heading to it next.”
With patience just starting to wear thin, the five followed Ocellus to the changeling dorms and her room.
As the lights came on and Ocellus welcomed the group into her dorm, they were taken aback by how many bookshelves lined the walls. They were populated by books ranging from high-level magical theory and electrical engineering to mineral properties and circuit board manufacturing.
“Wow Ocellus,” Gallus marveled. “You must have half the library in here. Talk about an egghead.”
The changeling smiled at the griffon’s good-natured jab, lifting a hoof to point at a shelf. “That’s just my personal collection. It’s everything I need to keep my old system in working order.”
“Heh, I know that life. But seriously though, your rig can’t be… that…”
As Gallus trailed off, everyone else besides Ocellus wondered what had silenced him, and followed his gaze. Straight ahead of them was a rather narrow desk with a small terminal with a monitor and keyboard built in sitting atop – a mouse on the right and a data cassette deck and standalone floppy drive on the left. Those in the group who were using more modern equipment were confused as to why a sole terminal was such a big deal, but Gallus used an older computer with its own terminal, and the nearby system had quite literally taken his breath away.
What had been earlier assumed to be some kind of cabinetry was anything but, and everycreature inched forward to get a better look. Tucked up as close as possible to the left wall, and nearly touching the ceiling was a massive black tower that dwarfed the desk. It was sectioned off into three separate vertical compartments – each not only housing different types – but different eras of components.
The closest stack had some kind of digital controller at the very top, with several red illuminated diodes showcasing that the unit was powered down. Just below were several panels populated by rows of toggle switches, each having a dedicated label. At the bottom were several racks with quick release hard drives sitting vertically in their cages.
The middle stack was a whole different animal. Instead of digital readouts and circuitry, it was populated with analog tape reels and large inert vacuum tubes protected by a large glass door that went from bottom to top. The tapes themselves snaked around the wheels and idler pulleys of the cabinet, with little tracks keeping them from becoming damaged and also stopping sag in the tape. That all terminated at the top, where the tapes went through several sets of heads for reading.
The last cabinet was the one that gave the machine its namesake.
It was the component of the system that married everything together, and the component that had also granted the machine longevity beyond its time. It was located in the center of the stack and consisted of an outer ring of capped tubes with different types of gems held in each. Inside this ring was a large focusing crystal that would turn the different properties and wavelengths of the other crystals into usable instructions. And above and below were massive magical capacitors with small glass tubes that made their way to each gem in the outer ring.
Ocellus used the time that her friends spent marveling at the antiquated computer to start unhooking the terminal, mouse, speakers and cassette deck. After a minute of fussing with unruly cables, the changeling finished her work and turned around to face her friends, only to find them still gawking.
“Is something the matter?” she asked with a hint of concern.
Smolder was the first to break her eyes away and find words. “What, in the shit, is that thing?!”
Ocellus grinned and answered with an air of pride. “It’s a Gem Matrix Mainframe.”
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Chapter 3 - Hardware and Inconvenience ( Part 3/3 )
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. View Online
Chapter 4 - Morning Ritual and Shopping Sound ( Part 1/3 ) (updated: Sweet and Smoky)
Author's Note
Sorry for the long wait everyone we wanted the best update we can make
updated:thx to the Sweet and Smoky coming to light its been updated, but if you want the old version just ask me
Chapter 4 - Morning Ritual and Shopping Sound ( Part 1/3 ) (updated: Sweet and Smoky)
Chapter 4 - Morning Ritual and Shopping Sound
It may have been a dark but starry early morning, but that didn't mean Ponyville rested wholeheartedly. Despite it being a national holiday, the various service ponies were still out in force, handling whatever their assigned tasks were to keep the town in order.
Arguably, the most important tasks during the winter season were plowing, salting, and general maintenance of the many streets and paths, with priority granted to the most heavily trafficked areas. Coffee, tea, and energy drink fueled road crews cleared the way of snow that had been windswept in throughout the night, keeping eyes cast upon the ground for any kind of damage to the roads. Whenever something important was spotted, a few of the orange vested workers would stop to conduct repairs by lamplight.
Garbage disposal ponies trailing behind the road crews went from one residence to another, retrieving the bags of regular and holiday trash left out on the curb and tossing them into the back of their specialized wagon, which compacted it all down at the pull of a lever. All parties were trying their very best to work as quietly as possible in an effort to not disturb those still asleep while still keeping efficiency in mind.
Of course, there were always the more adventurous types out and about who wouldn't dream of missing a single glorious night on the town. Unfortunately for those who liked to burn the midnight oil, all the establishments that stayed open into the night had just closed their doors until noon, forcing their patrons to stumble back home and sleep away the rest of the morning and quite possibly most of the day as well.
Things were considerably less hectic over at the academy, where those students and staff who were staying over winter break were catching the last few minutes of a good night's rest before dawn broke and the extra credit courses began. Besides the troublemakers, there were also many students who weren't falling behind but chose to stay regardless, and would be content to sleep in as late as desired.
One such group had chosen a secluded meeting room on the far side of the library as their resting spot. They were all tucked cozily into their blankets and sleeping bags which were spaced out in front of a low table. The television that sat up there that they had all fallen asleep to had been left on throughout the night, albeit with the volume just above the lowest notch.
Playing on the tiny screen was an early morning infomercial advertising a patent-pending product that looked suspiciously like regular duct tape. As the ponies on screen demonstrated all the wonderful uses for it, the light emitted from the spilled and flashed out onto the five campers.
The griffon of the bunch was curled up atop his covers with forelimbs wrapped around a pillow that should have been reserved for head support, mumbling about his dream griffon.
“... Mmm... Gilda...”
The yak barely fit under her covers, but the trail of drool dripping out her slack jaw and onto them meant that ill-fitting and wet blankets were the least of her concerns. In her visions, Princess Yona was seated at the head of the titanic banquet table inside Yakyakistan's Grand Feasting Hall, ready to devour a plethora of the finest dishes the known world had on offer along with her fellow yaks. If sitting in the biggest chair didn't rightly advertise her newly-earned station, then the big ebony crown on her head and the brass rings over her horns left no room for dispute. They all waited for their newly appointed chieftain to make the first move, and she did so by tossing her much too civilized utensils into the nearby firepit and plunging muzzle first into the bowl of tsuvian noodles.
The hippogriff had unconsciously kicked away her covers long ago and was hanging halfway off her bedroll. Her limbs, which were skewed out at odd angles, would twitch occasionally, and eyes darting around underneath scrunched lids along with a troubled frown showed that her rest was fitful at best. On nights like that, her dreams involved flying and galloping. Mostly galloping ...
The other two present – dragon and changeling – were having a relatively dreamless time. They only experienced brief, esoteric flashes that were as random as they were meaningless, and they only stirred a few times over the dark hours.
Off in the dorms, the other students were sleeping more comfortably in their own beds. In the dragon’s dorm, a certain big red drake was cuddling a giant pink unicorn plushie to his chest while snoring heavily. He always assured his pals that the only reason the plushie shared a space on his mattress was because it was a gift from his sister and he had no other place for it. That was partially true as a vast majority of his space was dedicated to a massive drum kit and a decent shelf stereo which overhanged the bed slightly. A cord plugged into the auxiliary jack snaked down to an accompanying pair of headphones over his ears, and the music they were playing was something he assured his pals he only ever put on to fall, and remain asleep.
A few doors down, an ivory white dragon who was wearing a black t-shirt and nothing else was fast asleep with one leg dangling over the side of the bed. The magazine that was sitting on the pillow next to his head suggested that he liked to read before bed, and the big buff dragon heroically posing on the cover while wearing a pair of all too tight gym shorts was a decent indicator of just what he aspired to be. That, along with a whole host of other dragon-centric goodies the magazine showcased that only the most well-off and elite could afford to enjoy.
Unlike dragons, who typically slept very soundly, the hippogriffs were far more restless. They, like Silverstream, also had lingering effects of being isolated from their natural habitat for so long. The transformation back to the age-old norm after years stuck under the sea had been a staggering shock for all involved, and that was especially true for those who were young enough to have been born seapony. They were so accustomed to floating while sleeping that unconscious movements made in the resistance of seawater were greatly exaggerated on land, which resulted in tossing and turning at best and tumbling onto the unforgiving floor at worst. That restlessness was countered by taking proactive measures to prevent injuries like pushing beds up against walls on one side, and using a side rail to secure the open side or simply placing some soft items on the ground to break any falls.
The older teens who had enough years behind them to remember life on the surface didn’t have nearly as hard a time adjusting as those younger, but many did carry terrible emotional baggage with them that caused restless nights all the same.
The griffons easily had the most students staying over the holiday break, with almost three-fourths of their number contently purring away over the fact that they wouldn't have to make the long flight back home only to wind up braving a harsher Griffonstone winter. Most of them either came from broken homes, or were orphaned altogether, and those who were didn’t want to go back to that anytime soon.
Changelings were a whole different matter entirely. Only a select few bugs were staying behind, and those were the ones who weren't taking their studies as seriously as would have been hoped. A youth under a tyrant's iron hoof where friendship was outright stomped out had made it all the more challenging for the Children of the Hive to adapt to the sudden change in their social structure. They had mostly shunned the values the school was trying to espouse and instead stuck to the old ways they knew well.
Rather than dress in many different ways and colors like their peers, they had adopted a uniform of sorts with similarities to what was commonplace during Chrysalis's reign. This usually consisted of some kind of black jacket that matched the old carapace coloration over an inconspicuous shirt, dark pants made out of denim or some other utilitarian material, and sturdy combat or construction boots just like Chrysalis's guard and engineers would have worn.
But for the most ardent of them, simply obscuring the new colors wasn't enough, and they had carried the theme on into their living areas as well. All the furniture and appliances that weren't on loan were either purchased in a drab gray or flat black, or had been painted to resemble items used in the old hive, and all the lights had green translucent coverings that would bathe the dorm in nothing but a sickly, radioactive glow.
The yaks wintering in Equestria were by far the noisiest sleepers, and even with their greatly diminished numbers the area still shook from the combined snoring. One male yak was snoozing away despite this – years of sleeping with his big family in their small ger rendering him immune to the racket his kin were known for. There was only one sound that he would ever heed, and the device that emitted it was ticking away on the nightstand.
The mechanical alarm clock was worn around the edges, dented bells adorned the top, and still had a One-Two-Three Bit Store price label stuck to the body. The second hand ticked it's way up from the thirty-second mark, and at about fifteen seconds the hand went behind a nasty scuff in the plastic face that camouflaged its movement until ten. Nine ticks later, the hand was vertical and the alarm bells began to...
RIIING!
The yak's sleep abruptly ended as the clock went off on its merciless tirade, and a cloven hoof began to blindly hunt down the noisy offender. As soon as the odd shape was felt, the hoof snapped up and then was swatted down with enough force to smash it into pieces. A pile of crushed metal and shattered plastic was all that remained of his quick hoofwork, but he was now half awake, which meant the alarm served its purpose.
“Damn pony clocks,” he yawned and then began to mumble. “Can’t take gentle tap. Yak clock would have no such problem.”
Once the sheets were kicked away and the yak had assumed a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he briefly examined the pile of plastic and metal, snorting with a mild disdain. He had learned over time living in pony land that smashed clocks weren't something to get bent out of shape over. They may not have been as robust as yak models, but they were readily available and dirt cheap to replace. Another one would be in the spot by nightfall, just like the dozens that preceded it.
His eyes roved over to the window next, and after wiping the bleariness away, he could see that it was much too early for sunrise. For a clueless moment, he wondered why he'd set the clock to ring at such an unholy hour, but one sidelong glance at the giant instrument residing on its stand next to the bed reminded him of what needed to be done.
With a hearty breath, he pushed off of the bed and stood on refreshed hind legs. Forelimbs were stretched into the air and he began to work the kinks out of his back. After rotating his upper body several times to get all the stiffness out, he made for the bathroom. The first order of business once there was to do what every guy did first thing in the morning, which was to make a yellow, trickling waterfall into the toilet bowl.
After finishing that natural process, he flushed it away and turned his attention to getting into the shower. Night clothes were stripped off, the shower door was pulled open, and he stepped in to mindlessly turn the water on.
“Ahhh! Cold!!!”
If he was only awake enough to stumble around before, then the frigid blast coming out of the showerhead finished that process in the blink of an eye. A desperate hoof brought the handle closer to center, and once a temperature just above ambient was achieved he grabbed up a bar of floral soap and set to work.
A good scrubbing later, he saw himself out of the shower and rubbed his fur and mane down with several large dry towels. The next stop was the sink, where he brushed his teeth and took care of all the other things necessary to keep hygienic. After finishing up the bathroom tasks by running a coarse comb through mane and beard, the teenage yak gave himself a final once over in the mirror, nodding in satisfaction at the results.
He left the bathroom and went directly to his wardrobe, where he reached in and pulled out a pair of fresh boxer shorts. Once those were on, he grabbed his green deel off its hook and donned it. The traditional garment of his people was a long, baggy-sleeved robe that reached halfway down the hind legs and was fastened round the waist by a golden silk sash that was tied together.
With the main choice of clothing on, he pulled his wool socks and hoofmade boots onto his hooves. It was true that the average yak didn’t need much in the way of clothing to keep warm, but even in the mild equestrian winter any protection was welcome. Plus wearing boots would greatly reduce the amount of clean-up later on. The last piece of the puzzle was his backpack, which was made entirely of synthetic materials that had been mass-produced in a factory rather than on an artisan’s loom. After a month of daily use, It already had a few places where the nylon was beginning to fray, but the yak needed someplace to store his things.
Fully kitted out, he headed for the door, but a sudden remembrance stopped his restless hooves.
Next to the bed was his pride and joy. The yovidaphone was lit up dimly by the lamp on the nightstand, which was the only light on in the room at that point. The massive instrument had its own ornately carved stand that it sat proudly upon, and he went over to retrieve it. The only way to effectively handle and play it was to cradle the mass of the airbag under the left forelimb and pick it up with the elongated mouthpiece hanging just below the player’s muzzle, and the five massive horns going around the back and up overhead. With everything now set for travel, he was ready to head over to the musical department for some solo practice before hitting the town.
Then the gears in his mind started turning.
Yaks had been barred from playing their bigger instruments outside thanks to a few broken windows and one too many noise complaints. For that reason, Twilight was adamant that the only place to play the beautiful instruments was inside a magically sound-insulated studio, which the yaks begrudgingly agreed to. But now that the headmare wasn’t around…
With a wry grin, he set off on his hind legs to go and make some noise, but this time, it would be in a place much more suited to a yak.
The wooden pipes of the yovidaphone clacked together softly as the yak made his way down the hall towards a small alcove where a few vending machines hummed away. Once at the vendors, bits were fished out by the only free hoof and pushed into the coin slots. But as he pressed the buttons and started tob receive the chosen snacks and beverages, he concluded that he wouldn’t be able to carry everything with one forelimb alone, and setting a yovidaphone on ground that wasn’t yak would be sacrilege.
“Bah! Yak can’t carry full first breakfast in free hoof! In pack it goes!”
Setting his haul onto the floor, he carefully shrugged off the backpack that was such a struggle to get on before, and the half-dozen or so granola bars and almost as many cans of sweetened tea were all crammed inside. With one of those bars carefully held by the wrapper in his teeth, the bag was zipped and brought back onto his shoulders, and with a free hoof once more, he grabbed the granola bar and pulled it to the side to tear it open.
He munched on his waking snack while navigating the corridors to the main entrance and the world beyond. Said world was absolutely freezing, and the puffs of visible breath coming out of his mouth and nose made no secret of this, but that was hardly a deterrent. The path that led to the best place to play made its way around the back of the school and had only been lightly dusted by the white stuff, so that part of the journey was simple enough. Beyond the school grounds, the path hadn’t been as well maintained, and he was forced to trudge onward through ever thickening forest and deepening snow.
After a few more minutes under the snow-laden pines, he emerged into an upward sloping moonscape of boulders and incredibly rocky ground. The higher winds on the mountain had done a good job of keeping the narrow hoof path that snaked up through the boulders visible, and a sign warned of the dangers of trotting the path to the summit alone. Of course, this was of no matter for yaks, who were well equipped to-
The yak almost came crashing down as his hoof slid out on an icy patch, but he was able to regain balance and carry on. “Pony sign forgot to mention ice on trail,” he grumbled softly, his complaint lost to the whipping winds.
Finally, after a somewhat treacherous climb and a few ear pops, he pulled himself onto the summit of the mountain, and the view was spectacular. Down in the valley below, he could spot some of the windows of the academy he had departed a half-hour ago lit in yellow. The giant star atop the nextdoor friendship castle was illuminated in its usual soft white, and the streets of the settlement beyond twinkled under amber lamplight. For the particular time of year, multicolored strands of lights along with many other decorations had been strewn over the buildings and yards like yarn, which added coloration to the scene.
With the view now admired, the yak picked out a flat and level boulder that was relatively smooth and sat down upon it. He then placed the yovidaphone in his lap and slid the backpack off his withers. The pack was unzipped, and a portable, telescopic music stand was pulled out – which was set up just before him. A booklet of sheet music written in a language that only yaks or very well read ponies could understand was the next thing to see open air, and he flipped through the pages until he found the piece he desired. It was then folded over and put on the stand, with a few clips keeping the page from turning in the wind.
All that was left on the to-do list was to ready the instrument itself – which he did so by cradling the airbag under his left forelimb once again and giving it a small squeeze. The note that came out wasn’t anywhere near desirable without the woodwind component, but it did prove that it was ready for use. He then got his pipes ready.
“Yak. Yak, yak, yak. Yaaak-ack-ack!”
With a discouraged frown, the yak had to contend with the fact that his throat was still quite dry despite being awake for little over an hour now. Since he was born into a society of the great white north, he understood quite well how the dried air negatively affected the throat and nasal passages, but he grinned when he remembered the dozen cans of grandyak’s cough medicine stuffed into the bottom of his bag. Without much care for anything else in the sack, a can of the natural tea was hoofed out and the tab was popped. After shotgunning the entire thing in one endless gulp, he happily belched out a stomachfull of air and smashed the tall can against his horned forehead.
With his body now ready to play the flagship instrument of his kind, he brought the mouthpiece up, and as the sky began its transition into dim blue dawn, began to play.
Gallus was having one of the best times of his life.
He was on the edge of a cushy bed in an equally cushy room, the fabrics a deep maroon color and the walls a dark purple. The thundering of the techno music from the dancehall on the floor below was only barely muffled by the shag carpeting and the heavy velvet curtain that covered the only exit. But why would he ever want to leave?
Especially when she was right there with him.
Gilda was the perfect griffon. Big, bold, brash, and beautiful, she was the hen that the adolescent had been lusting over for the past few years. The main attraction was the fact that unlike other prospects who only ran their beaks and nothing else, she was able to back up her feisty attitude with physical prowess. If there was ever any doubt of that in the younger bird’s mind. It had been torn asunder by the chain of events that had brought them together that night.
“Wow, G,” he gushed. “That was awesome, the way you kicked that guy’s ass back there while I kept his buddies off yours!”
“Yeah, it sure was.” A scaly yellow forelimb wrapped around Gallus’s body and pulled him close. “But you were awesome too.”
Acting on impulse, he wrapped a forelimb around her in return. She leaned in and spoke softly.
“And since you were such a sweetheart for buying me drinks afterward, how would you like to take my tits for a spin. If you do a good job pleasing me, you might get a kiss as well.”
Her sincere grin along with the excitement of the moment caused Gallus’s pulse to heighten, and his member to get even harder than it already was. This was compounded even further by the dream hen stripping off her black top that had its sleeves and midriff torn off, and torn denim shorts. Those were tossed on top of her military-esque gray jacket which had several decorative chains looped over the left pauldron that was resting on the bed. And on the floor next to the bed were her oversized boots with several decorative belts near the top of the ankle.
“You know...” Gilda laid back on the bed and wiggled around in search of a comfy position. “I always liked you. Even though you can be such a dweeb sometimes.”
The blue griffon couldn’t have possibly wiped the stupid grin off his beak even if he wanted to, so he used it to his advantage instead. “If that’s the case, then let me show you how much of a dweeb I am.”
With that little bit of flirtation out of the way, Gallus crawled over to Gilda and straddled her reclined form. He got started with some exploratory rubbing, trying to find the most sensitive area. He found it in between her massive breasts, and a small gasp confirmed it. Without delay, he brought his beak down in between them and started motorboating like there was no tomorrow.
Gallus wrapped his forelimbs tighter around his pillow, pressing his face deep into the soft cushion. To an outsider, it would just look like the griffon loved snuggling with a good pillow, but in his mind, it was oh so much more.
After a few minutes of playing with his dream griffon’s breasts, he halted his efforts and looked up at her with a crooked smile. “How was that?”
Gilda laughed. “Wow, I figured you’d be terrible at foreplay, but you surprised me there.” Her voice then took on a more sultry tone. “I suppose I owe you that kiss now.”
Gallus’s smile widened, and he leaned in for his prize. But before he could connect, something in his mind stopped him. He was about to make out with Gilda Ironclaw, the closest thing to an actual griffon friend he had, and by far the most eligible hen in the country. He could feel her well-toned muscles under his talons, could feel her sweet, hot breath on his beak, could feel…
“Hey! Griffonstone to dumbass! Snap out of it!”
A large set of talons slapped into the side of his face brought Gallus back to his senses, and he shook his head to get his thoughts in order.
“What?! You don’t want a kiss?”
He immediately stopped shaking his head. “Wha-, n-no. I was just, uhh, stretching my neck. Yeah...”
“Well, if that’s all, then stop wasting my time and honk!!! ”
“Umm… what?” he asked in confusion.
Gilda’s tone was more forceful this time. “I said quit yer gawkin’ and honk toot honk!!! ”
“But I don’t understand what you are saying!”
Suddenly, Gilda’s beautiful golden eyes turned into a pair of yak horns, and her beak transformed into a gigantic brass horn. The horn's bellow – and Gallus’s response – were almost instantaneous.
“Hooonnnkk!!!”
“Aaaahhhh!!!”
With a wailing shout, Gallus shoved away from his pillow as quickly as his just woken body would allow. Unfortunately, during the night his bedding had migrated towards the table, and in his frantic state he wound up smacking his head on the wooden underside.
“Gah! Sonofabitch!” he screamed in pain while instinctively bringing his talons around to the back of his head.
With tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, he flopped back down onto his blanket and curled up into a tight ball. After a few seconds of nursing the throbbing injury, the pain faded to a dull ache and he made a second attempt at getting up.
Once upright, Gallus glanced over the other sleepers and saw that Silverstream, Yona, and Smolder were still quite out of it. He sighed in relief, believing that he only had a vivid imagination to fear. Then he saw Ocellus, who was notoriously a very light sleeper, rise up into a sitting position and rub at her eyes with a dainty hoof. Their eyes met a second later, and she softly asked him...
“Did you hear some kind of bellowing just now?”
Gallus blushed lightly, feeling a little ashamed at the fact that he'd let a stupid nightmare get to him and the inplication that he'd woken the changeling with his outburst.
“That was my bad. Just woke up a little too quickly is all.”
“Oh, okay,” Ocellus replied unassuredly. “It sounded so real...”
Hoooooonnnk!
“Eep!”
The noise that Gallus thought had been confined solely to his dreams-turned-nightmares peeled out true once again, except this time it was in reality and it caused the massive glass panes overhead to rattle ominously in their moorings. The suddenness and intensity of the disturbance forced Ocellus to skitter away from the windows for safer ground. In her haste to flee, the changeling tripped over the exposed network cable and toppled onto Silverstream's sleeping form. The hippogriff’s response to being hit with force while resting was to screech in shock and confusion while rocketing out of the danger zone and towards the ceiling.
The screech was enough to jolt Smolder awake, and she jumped to her feet and started scanning around for the threat. “What! What’s going on! Where is it!”
Her sense of sight detected nothing except an agitated Silverstream frantically zooming around the glass ceiling, but her sense of hearing was put to the test by the sound that started it all.
Tooooot!!!
“And what in the dragon lord’s name is that sound!”
Bwaaaaaa!!!
Smolder clutched at the sides of her head, trying in vain to block it out and save her eardrums. “Torch almighty! It sounds like a dragon that tried to fuck a gem with a hole in it and got his dick stuck!”
Yona, unfazed by the ridiculous noise, rose slowly to her hooves. Her unbraided brown mane completely obscured her face, with only her wide muzzle poking out. After trying to blow the hair away several times with little result, she pulled it back with a hoof to reveal her bleary eyes.
“Is it... time for breakfast already?”
Brrrrrrrt!!!
Silverstream lost control of her flight, barely missing the table full of their personal computers and crashing directly into Yona, who easily cushioned the impact. This loss of coordination did nothing to slow down the hippogriff’s mind however, and she quickly voiced her opinion of the sound.
“It sounds like a constipated whale trying to take a number two.” A talon was brought up in contemplation. “Or was that a megalodon…?”
Everybody else present except for Yona followed Smolder’s example and cowered down as the sound blasted through the area once again. To their growing consternation, they realized that what were assumed to be random noises had conglomerated into something that was starting to sound more and more like an actual musical number.
Gallus was the first to give up on trying to block out the noise, dropping his forelimbs and stalking into the center of the room.
“I don’t know what or who that is, but I’m gonna shut them the fuck down! Nobody should be making that much noise at whatever time it is?!”
He held up his wrist to look at his cheap, ten-bit watch, and as soon as he did, he took to the air with fire in his eyes.
“Six in the fucking morning!” He started zipping back and forth past the windows, head turned towards the wilderness. “Alright! Where is that coming from?!”
Eventually, he came to a hover, and his eyes zoomed onto a lone figure sitting atop one of the many small mountains that ringed the valley. He could see clear as day that it was a yak, and that the instrument he was playing was most likely the cause of their rude awakening. No more time was wasted taking in details, and he started to bang on the glass, his angered state clouding the fact that not only could the windows have been opened to allow passage outside, but that there was also no way that his voice alone could carry that far.
“Hey! What’s the big idea playing your gods damned whatever the fuck it is at this time! Don’t you know birds are sleeping right now for the fucking winter break!”
Despite all his banging and screaming, the yak continued to play, the tempo picking up as he really got into it. With a growl, Gallus gave up on stopping the racket and went over to a dark corner near Ocellus’s broken down mainframe to sulk.
“If yak friends interested, those are sounds of yovidaphone.”
Smolder looked at Yona in absolute shock. “That’s a yovidaphone?!”
“Yup, best instrument ever created by yakkind. It makes most beautiful melodies in world.”
Gallus could only handle a few seconds of being out of the discussion before jumping back in. “If it’s the best instrument ever created, and it has the most beautiful melodies, then why does it sound like a dragon with his cock stuck in a small hole or a whale taking a shit, as they suggested?”
Yona could only shrug in response. “He or she’s learning to play it.”
The griffon chuckled mirthlessly. “Clearly. And how long will that take?”
“It takes years of study and practice for yak to become master yovidaphonist. Yona has no idea why this isn’t known to griffon, don’t you pay attention in music class?”
“I do pay attention in music class! I’ve just never heard one outside the studio before!”
A particularly nasty, bellowing note once again battered the building, and Gallus answered back with a flat tone of his own.
“And now I know why.”
Smolder brought her palms up to her face and rubbed at her eyes. “Well, there's no point in trying to go a few more hours with all that racket. May as well move our stuff back and get ready for the day.” She winced in pain when another shrieking note rolled through.
Ocellus gave one of her legs a long stretch, and then she began stretching and flexing her translucent insectoid wings. “It’s no fun getting up this early.” With a soft and satisfying pop from one of her wing joints, the changeling tucked the wings away and smiled. “But on the upside, we can get first pickings of breakfast.”
With Silverstream and Yona voicing their assent and Gallus grumbling his, they all set their minds and bodies to the task of dismantling the indoor campsite, picking up their used bedding and whatever else had been brought in. Smolder knew two trips would be necessary to get everything back to the dorm, but was torn on whether to take the television or the sleeping bag first. While she situated her load so as to carry it under one arm and possibly carry everything back in one go, something slipped out of pocket, which went unnoticed for the time being.
After a few awkward attempts that almost resulted in serious damage to the TV, the dragon elected to just leave it for now and just get on with things. Turning toward the exit, she made ready to fly, but when she trod far enough away from the table for Gallus to spot the fallen item, the griffon swooped in to helpfully scoop them up.
“Yo, Smolder! You dropped your…”
The balled-up bit of fabric unfolded when the griffon picked it up and revealed that it wasn’t just fabric. He didn’t need to know what was hanging from the end of his claw, the frills and cursive writing on it already told him everything.
Smolder had stopped and spun on her heel to see what had fallen, but her arms went weak and her face burned like a fire ruby as the bundle held within them fell just in front of her feet. In his claws were the panties she was almost perpetually embarrassed to admit to owning.
Gallus continued to stare at the panties, until he glanced up into the dragon’s shocked reptilian eyes and the more juvenile part of his mind kicked in, causing him to grin mischievously.
“Bad dragon girl, huh?”
Any scant hope of being able to just play the situation off without too much fuss was dashed for Smolder as she heard the other three turn away from their burdens to come closer and see what was up. They were initially unsure of the nature of the hangup due to Smolder standing in their view, but once they got into better positions they were better able to formulate reactions.
Yona raised a skeptical eyebrow that was partially obscured by her unruly mane, not understanding the importance behind underwear that looked to be a few sizes too small.
Silverstream’s pile of blankets was scattered to the floor as she began to wring her talons together in excitement. Ocellus was curious, though she still retained her load of bedding.
“Bad dragon girl?” the changeling inquired cutely.
Gallus spun the panties around so she could see the sweeping font across. When she got closer, she read the text and blushed. “Oh wow, it really does.”
Silverstream bounded over to Ocellus’s side and spoke with giddiness on her tongue. “I know, right?! I got a sneak peek last night!”
The griffon gasped. “Woah! For real?!”
Smolder struggled to get out of her embarrassing stupor and get her mind in gear. She had to find a way to end the situation as quickly as possible and get her panties back in the process.
“I take it you wore these yesterday and forgot to put them away after?”
“I-I-I ummm…”
In that brief moment of trying to dumbly respond to Gallus’s question, the way out came to the forefront of the dragon’s thoughts. Acting on impulse more than anything else, she ran up to the griffon without warning and grasped the thong in her right claw. Her left latched onto his upper forelimb and she held him still, delivering a knee directly into his exposed egg bag.
The effect was undeniable.
The griffon’s eyes bulged out of their sockets and the pupils shrank to pinpricks when his brain began receiving signals of agony from the male bits that had been hit, and he was only able to choke out a minuscule sound in turn as his legs gave out. He had also relaxed his grip on the panties, and they slid out of his claws and into Smolder’s without issue.
She then heard the collective gasp and wince from the other three and could see that they had all recoiled back a step. Everyone, even the brutish Yona, had a look of empathic pain on their faces. Even though they didn’t truly know how painful it would be for any guy to get hit there, they could only imagine.
Smolder watched her apprehensive friends, then glanced back at the thong in her claws with its lettering still visible to all and proceeded to take flight, zooming past the other three and out the room at a pace that would give Professor Dash a run for her bits.
With the initial shock subsiding, Gallus curled into a ball of misery for the second time that morning, with talons tucked firmly between his hind legs. He tried not to cry as he held his balls and did his best to massage the pain away, and after doing that for a few seconds he managed to whimper out.
“Why…? She didn’t have to do that…”
He started to cough softly, which of course made any headway in the pain-relieving department completely irrelevant. As he languished there on the floor, he was dimly aware of the other three coming over to check on him.
“Will friend of Yona’s be alright?”
His response came out strained and strangled. “I-I’ll be fine… It’s not l-like I haven’t taken hits there before… ow...”
Yona grimaced. “Yak has seen firsthoof how painful getting hit in that area can be. One big strong male yak back in hometown tried to fight small meek female yak. He thought smaller yak could be pushed around, but she just ducked under first punch and kicked both back hooves straight into no-go zone. He couldn’t walk straight for whole week after, and jewels stayed up in him for same amount of time.”
Gallus chuckled lightly, being careful this time to not use his diaphragm too much. “W-wow, hearing about other guys getting kicked between the legs and being crippled for a week really makes me feel better. Thanks, Yona. Just... Ah! Just give me a few to get a second wind in me.”
Knowing that Gallus was bruised but otherwise fine, Yona turned away from him and looked to her other friends. “Do any of you know why Smolder would react so violently to griffon picking up dropped undies?”
Ocellus looked just as clueless as the yak felt, but Silverstream – who had a hint of red below her eyes and was nervously toying with her hair – had the answer.
“Well, when I was helping her move her system, I stumbled across her panties and I might have teased her about them a bit. She was really shy about it, but I don’t understand why. I’m able to wear mine without shame. See?”
Both Ocellus and Yona watched with ever-widening eyes as Silverstream turned around to point her butt in Gallus’s general direction and grabbed the top of her pants. They both knew that any kind of stimulation would only bring agonizing pain back to the griffon, and they tried to get the hippogriff to stop.
“Silver! Don’t do that! It’ll only-!”
Heedless of the attempted warning courtesy of Ocellus, Silverstream pushed her pants halfway down her legs and stood up straight for all to see. And see they did – one more so than the others.
Gallus got an eyeful of a curvy hippogriff behind scantily clad in the same type of lingerie that had been in his claws a few seconds prior, but this one had Boy Toy written across the back. When the blue tail swished off to the side to offer an even better view, a warmth of pleasure radiated through his core, only for that feeling to be eclipsed by excruciating pain as his injured member began to enlarge.
“Grrr! Gah! Ah! Ah!” The griffon began gasping and huffing as he continued to grow, and holding his claws over the bulge in his pants didn’t help matters either.
“Huh?” Silverstream glanced behind herself and down at Gallus. “You okay down there, because I-”
“Silver!!!”
Both Yona and Ocellus galloped over to stop Silverstream and put an end to Gallus's suffering. When they reached the silly hippogriff, they both grabbed her pants and pulled up. Ocellus was gentle in her efforts, barely moving them, but Yona yanked up hard enough to lift the hippogriff into the air and make her yelp in both discomfort and surprise.
As soon as Yona dropped her back to the ground, Silverstream started fervently rubbing her rear end where her pants had ridden up. “Hey! Not too hard, okay!”
As for the main recipient of the impromptu show, he was struggling to get into a sitting position while still groaning and huffing. Figuring that he would need some assistance this time around, Yona knelt next to him and helped him lean up against the nearby table leg.
“Can Yona get griffon anything to ease pain, like ice pack?” the yak asked while rubbing Gallus’s back.
“Nngh! I don’t know if ice will help with this.” Gallus let his head fall for a second, pondering the best pain reliever. He then looked up. “A-actually, a nice, cold soda would be nice. I’ll pay you back later.”
“Sure, no problem.”
While Yona galloped off to get the soda, Gallus leaned heavily against the table leg and nursed his injury. He occasionally glanced over towards the Gem-Matrix cabinet that Ocellus was aimlessly examining, and she glanced at him in turn, but neither could come up with anything worthwhile to say. Silverstream was also a bust when it came to conversation, with the hippogriff having flown off to gods knew where.
After a few minutes of silence, the sounds of heavily weighted hooves echoed ever louder from the doorway, and Yona bounded through the exit a few moments later. She skidded to a stop before Gallus and produced the ice-cold soda which she hoofed over to the griffon, who stuffed it down the front of his pants and waited for the relief.
“That’s, ah! Yeah, that does the trick,” Gallus groaned as the freezing can numbed the area out.
“You think you’re capable of getting up now?” Yona inquired as she held out her hoof.
He tried to lean forward and accept the offered help, but a jolt through his nerves told him that getting up that way wasn’t going to happen. So instead of that, he leaned to the side and onto his talons, then gingerly got his quivering hind legs under his body and stood up.
“Alright, I’m good,” he mumbled to himself, then addressed the other three – Silverstream having rejoined them a second prior with a few random books in her claws. “Okay guys, let’s just forget this whole thing happened and get on with our morning. After we shower and grab breakfast I’ll fly to Sandbar’s and pick him up, then we can head to the store.”
“Sounds good,” the hippogriff chirped.
“Yak ready to do battle!” Yona roared.
“Mmm-hmm.” Ocellus softly mumbled.
With a slightly hobbled walk, Gallus gathered his things up and made for his dorm. Others followed suit, with Yona undertaking the additional task of returning the television back to Smolder in one piece.
Smolder cupped the lukewarm tapwater in her claws and splashed it into her face.
The water not only helped her awaken fully, but also worked to drive away any remnants of the furious blush that had already faded considerably during the flight back to the safety of her dorm. After briskly rubbing the water into her dry eyelids and facial scales, she killed the faucet and moved to slide the door to the already running shower open and entered through the wafting steam. The water spraying out the showerhead and soaking the dragon would have been scalding to any other creature, but the highest temperature setting was just enough to keep her comfortable, even though something as close to boiling as possible would have been preferred.
On any given school day, Smolder would almost always find herself in a mad rush to get freshened up and out the door before breakfast and roll-call, but the rude awakening coupled with the fact that school was out for more than just the weekend gave her plenty of time to kill. With that in mind, the dragon decided to go in for a much more thorough cleaning than what was usual. She grabbed a bottle of a rather gritty shampoo off the rack, squirted some into her left claw, and lathered herself up from top to bottom. Next, she grabbed a stone about the size of a pony’s hoof that was wrapped in cloth and unfurled the covering to reveal the actual rock with several holes drilled into it. The same shampoo was poured into each hole, and when they were full she wrapped it back up and got to work.
She rubbed it all over her chest, ran it up and down her legs and arms, and carefully navigated it around her wing joints. As this was happening, old, coarse scales were falling from the treated areas and littering up the bottom of the shower. This was of no concern to the young dragon as the drains for their showers and sinks were specifically built to handle shed dragonscale without clogging.
Her tail along with the most sensitive areas were next, and as she brought the dubiously useful appendage around and set to scrubbing, thoughts drifted to her rude awakening. The yak playing his obnoxious instrument wasn’t that big of a deal compared to her issues with self-image. Dragons were supposed to be fearsome warriors who took crap from nobody and gave nothing in return. They weren’t supposed to be into nice soft frilly things like panties and dresses, but as she ruminated further on it, the clearer her conclusion became.
It was irritating to be teased about it, but that was no excuse. I better apologize to him as soon as I can.
The cleansing stone suddenly slipped out of the cloth, and she tried to catch it before it clattered against the tile. She almost lost her footing and wiped out, but her feet were able to find the anti-slip strips which helped her remain upright. With more caution, she bent down and picked up the stone and set it back on its shelf, replacing it with a long-handled shower brush which held a similar stone that was for her hard to reach back. After rubbing that up and down for a minute or so, the cleansing stone brush was hung back on it’s hook and Smolder let the warm water wash the shampoo away.
Her thoughts drifted inward once again, and this time she lamented her overreaction to anything remotely embarrassing. Damn it, I gotta get my emotions in check. I need to be more laid back like Silverstream and not let small things get under my scales.
She quickly backtracked on that one. Maybe not Silverstream. She’s great and all, but that bird can also be a real airhead at times.
Once all the grit was on it’s way down the drain, she picked up a much smoother polishing stone and essentially mirrored the same pattern as before, swapping it with a handled version near the end as well. Now complete, she ran a hand down her arm and felt the fresh scales. They were now smooth and rounded, greatly reducing any irritating snags on clothing and more importantly, wouldn’t have the potential of hurting her friends. They also had a bit of a sheen as well, but they would dull down after some exposure to dry air. As the dragon cleaned up her shower so it would be ready to go next time, she idly thought about how her friends might be utilizing their extra time.
“Yak song! Yak song! Not very long, sing it again! Yak song! Yak song…!”
Yona softly bounced on her hind hooves in her oversized shower, happily bellowing out the song of her people without a second thought. Water from the portable showerhead in her hooves flew everywhere as she rinsed the soap out of her dense fur. Unlike their dragon classmates, yaks did not have such a great tolerance for heat, and thus preferred to bathe in cooler water – just like they would back home.
Now thoroughly rinsed, she put the showerhead back in its holder and grabbed a ceramic vase off of the soap rack and removed the lid. The fresh scents of the various cleansing herbs condensed in a small space overtook her sense of smell – intoxicatingly so. Glad to know that the mixture was still as strong as the day it was prepared, she gave it all one last hearty sniff and then upended the vase overhead, dumping the contents all over her head and body.
“Soap? Check. Shampoo? Check. Brushes? Check. Alright, everything’s in order.”
With all her bathing equipment sorted into a neat row on the shelf, Ocellus set her shower faucet directly between medium and hot. Due to her upbringing and lifestyle centered around efficiency, the changeling always chose to bathe as quickly as possible with a very basic lather and rinse.
Back during Chrysalis’s reign, her nation had been under a military dictatorship and resources were closely regulated. Water was one such commodity, and the diminutive changeling still very clearly remembered getting water passes from the edgy guards and bathing in the communal showers with her mother holding her hoof. They only had a three-minute window before they had to pack up and leave, but these days she was able to determine the duration, and now afforded herself a whole five minutes to get things done.
Methodically moving from one tool to the next, she ran the bar of soap all around her body, rinsed, applied a vitamin solution that promoted good carapace health, rinsed away the excess and then turned off the water. As the door slid open, an egg timer by the bathroom vanity began to chime away, indicating that her time was up.
“Shoo be doo! Shoo shoo be do! Call upon the seaponies when you’re in distress!”
Unlike Ocellus’s efficient bathing, Silverstream liked to have fun in the shower, and the layer of bubbles that obscured the tile floor and ran halfway up the walls and door was clear evidence of that. A bottle of soap that had been squeezed a few too many times in her claws was the primary culprit of the bubbly mess, but the hippogriff wasn’t daunted and pointed the nozzle towards the ceiling. Giving the bottle another almighty squeeze, a jet of soap shot up several wings into the air before drizzling down onto her exposed back.
She was going to grab a brush to scrub her back with, but the rubber ducky caught the fancy of her spastic mind, so she picked that up instead. With the yellow bath toy in claw, she began to fly it around the shower while humming the rest of her song – occasionally stopping to squeeze out a quack for added effect.
A heavy bass beat filled Gallus’s bathroom, and it was coming from his tape player that was set up next to the sink which had a portable speaker plugged into it. The bathroom was probably the worst place for any kind of audio quality, but the echoey drumbeats didn’t bother the griffon in the slightest.
He briskly scrubbed down his fur with a very cheap plastic brush while moving his body to the beat of the song. The pain in his groin from earlier had mostly subsided – thanks in part to the soothing hot water – and he was pretty much back to his usual boisterous self.
Up to that point in time, the griffon was solely focused on bathing, but when the song reached the chorus, he brought the brush out before his beak like a microphone and began to sing.
"Standing on my feet I'm still alive, I wish I even tried 'cause I never tried. It's better if I even try. I wish to you I was on my way... but you see me as a light… weight."
Now that the song was truly underway, Gallus completely forgot about cleaning and began to dance under the shower, the swimming goggles over his eyes keeping any water from getting in them. His hips now moved to every drum beat and bass note, and his wings began to flutter as well.
"Why keep on picking up the phone? Why is it always on? I'm just a lightweight in your eyes. Why is it always on?
“Against the odds, and through the grain, you would never know me anyway. I'm just a lightweight in your eyes! I'm just a lightweight!
“Taking my chance just to know your name, breaking my bones just to see your face. It's better if I even try, Why keep on picking up the phone? Why is it always on? I'm just a lightweight in your eyes."
At the bridge of the song, the brush was dropped, and with his now free limbs, he began to play air guitar to the keyboard solo. But as he shredded notes and banged his head, an errant wingtip struck a bottle of shampoo on the shelf and knocked it on its side – the top popping open slightly.
The bridge soon ended, and Gallus decided to forego singing the remaining verses and just finish up his shower. Not bothering to locate the dropped brush, he settled for a bar of generic soap and began to lather up his chest and forelimbs, completely clueless to the trail of shampoo that was trickling its way down the wall due to his earlier antics. The song carried on for a few more minutes, giving ample time to finish soaping up his body.
When it began to play its last few notes, Gallus spun in place…
Only for a paw to step down onto the slippery shampoo that had made its new home on the tile, causing him to lose his balance. As he tried to keep himself upright, the other paw found the puddle and he fell flat on his back. The bar of soap chose that moment to launch out of his claws and directly into the air. Shocked azure eyes watched as the bar slowed its ascent until it reached the apex of its travel. It would be coming down next, and the griffon only had time for a quick expletive.
“Shi-!”
The soap not only came down in the direction of his face, but had landed in his wide-open beak. As soon as he could taste the suds on his tongue, he scrambled to all fours and spat the bar out. Gallus spent the next few seconds retching and gagging – first from the nasty taste – and even more so when he realized that the soap was also covered in old dirt and his own hair.
As he hacked away, the song went into its final chorus of…
Still alive…
Still alive…
Still alive!
Still alive, woah!
And a memory of an email he’d received the other day popped into his mind, which dictated his next actions. Blinking away the tears that had formed from all the coughing, he threw the shower door open and scampered over to the sink. The goggles were whipped away, and the griffon quickly grabbed his rarely used toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. A haphazard squeeze of paste onto the bristles later, and he was brushing like there was no tomorrow.
It took several rounds of brushing, swishing, and spitting before Gallus was satisfied, and when he was, he examined the white plastic stick in his grasp that passed for a toothbrush and shook his head.
… and don’t forget to brush your teeth!
“Well,” he gasped. “Looks like they got what they wanted after all.”
Now back to reality, Gallus went to the still running shower and turned it off – leaving the mess inside for a later time. His next stop was the towel rack, where he dried himself with a large green one from beak to paws, making sure to get between his toes and into his ear holes. With drying complete, the towel was hung carelessly back on the rack, and a once over glance in the mirror revealed a few feathers that were askew in his crest.
That just wouldn’t do.
Griffons weren’t very big on symbolism in the modern age, but growing in a crest of feathers was one rite of passage that carried on from earlier times. It meant that you were no longer just a pathetic hatchling – that you were old enough to hang with the big birds – and would be treated with marginally more respect as a result. His foray into what was considered to be adulthood by griffon standards didn’t necessarily go that simply or nicely for the griffon, but it was still important to him nonetheless.
So he went back over to the wash area and began to straighten out the feathers with his claws. The sides were smoothed back, ear tufts were fluffed out, and he began spiking up the topmost feathers. When the crest had been situated, he grabbed the can of feather spray that was kept by the other grooming supplies and lightly dusted his head with the aerosol. When the largest ones on top stood up in the right, stylish place, the can was replaced and Gallus was ready to rock.
Silverstream dipped her claws into a tub of her favorite brand of mane gel and pulled out a sizable glob. She rubbed the specialty gel imported directly from Mount Aris into her mane, working it in and then pushing the hair up into a mohawk of sorts. The gel was formulated to be water-resistant and allow hippogriffs some flexibility if they wanted to transform and go for a swim. It never lasted forever though and needed to be reapplied almost weekly.
Once the hair on the top of her head had been gelled to her liking, she put the lid back onto the small tub and put it in the medicine cabinet next to the sink. A comb was then picked up, and the hippogriff began pulling it through the back half of her mane. The mohawk and other stiff hairstyles were popular with hippogriffs, but seaponies preferred more soft and wavy styles. Silverstream could never decide what one style to adopt, so she created her own mix of both. A few more swipes of the comb and her trademark manehawk was complete.
Yona pulled a much bigger carved wood brush through her thick mane, It was of dark mahogany, with an intricate bronze inlay on the top and was necessary for thoroughly drying the burly strands. She stopped pulling just before the ends so that they would be held fast by the bristles, and then it was lifted enough to get the business end of a department store hair dryer cranked up to high under it. She would repeat this process time and again over the next few minutes, the hot air taking its time to fully dry things out.
With the thick brown locks finally dry, the dryer was tossed next to the sink and she began to braid the strands together. She was never the most dexterous of yaks, usually letting the more stable hooves of her grandyak handle the braiding, but Yona didn’t have that luxury in Equestria. Professor Rarity had done her best to fill that void by showing her some manedressing techniques to assist. But Rarity was a busy mare, so after the first few examples, it was down to the yak to continue on her own.
After a little over a year of practice, Yona had become proficient to the point that not only did she take pride in her own skill, but other yaks were starting to as well. A few more twists of the hoof were what it took to finish the braid, and the amaranth pins could go in to hold it. With one side done, she repeated the same process on the other.
After their morning bathing rituals, the five now took time to decide on their choice of clothes for the day. Yona wasn’t too picky with her selection, pulling out one of her green dresses from the wardrobe and setting it on the bed. It was no different in color and construction than the one she had taken off before her shower and the five others that hung from their hangars. Yak dress was best dress after all, why alter perfection?
Next, she brought out her undergarments – a plain bra and a pair of underwear that was also in green – and started dressing. They went on easily enough, and with the simple dress overtop, she headed out.
Ocellus clutched at the towel wrapped around her body as she quickly hobbled over to the folding cot that served as her usual resting place and knelt down by its side. She reached under and felt around for two grab handles, letting the towel fall open which revealed the pink basic sports bra worn underneath along with its matching thong. Ignoring her shivers for the time being, she pulled outward until the wheeled wooden box that just fit under the bed was clear of obstruction, and lifted open the top to get at fresh clothing.
The hoofbuilt, roll-out dresser had been a space-saving measure necessary to utilize wasted space in a room where that was at such a premium. It was a workable solution to the problem that was big enough to house her entire complement of clothing. The inside was sectioned off into individual compartments for all the different types, with the one holding her hoofwear being biggest. She had pairs for only the most common of occasions, like sandals for the beach and a nice set of hightop athletic pumps for physical education. There was room for more, but the other three types were used so frequently that keeping them on a rug by the door was way more practical.
The smaller spaces were stuffed with all other matter of clothing that if soft, were rolled into tight bundles. This occasionally made identifying certain articles a challenge and bundling them up didn’t help with presentation, but she had to make do with odd wrinkles and creases for the sake of more important devices.
But those days may have finally come to an end.
As the partly cloudy sky moved beyond obscuring the sun, Ocellus was almost blinded by the powerful light coming through the window. Blocking the rays with a forelimb, she forgot all about dressing and stared at where her Gem Matrix used to reside. Once she acclimated enough to not have to squint, the true scope of that knowledge came clear. From the entrance to the head of her cot, the dorm was a normal albeit cramped living space typical of any student. But all the shelves ended right there and beyond that point was a barren expanse of empty walls and floor.
It truly put into perspective how much she was sacrificing to keep that old system running. While she was upset when the mana tube blew, that wasn’t sentiment to the machine so much as disappointment over it failing at such an inopportune moment. The session of gaming had been ruined, but a full night to sleep on things helped in viewing them rationally. Meditating on it would have been even better, but she didn’t need to go that far to understand.
While losing the system was tough, the knowledge that it had traveled so far and dutifully kept running well past its prime left her with bittersweet hope. A computer like that may have been super at its inception, but now it was little more than a curiosity, a relic that belonged in a museum rather than seeing full time service. Even if she could find a replacement tube or somehow created a replica, what then? It was truly only a matter of time before something else went, and when that happened with magic-fuelled supercomputers the results could be catastrophic.
The most pragmatic part of her mind cried that it just wasn’t worth the risk, and to take the golden opportunity that had been presented to her. Of course the more romantic part that wanted to cling desperately to nostalgia and pride was just as vocal, but like most decisions she made, it was practicality that won out in the end..
Getting some seat time behind Sandbar’s modern machine had shown her just how far computers have come in the last few years, let alone decades when compared to her’s. What took a few minutes to happen on the Gem Matrix happened on the new EDM in mere seconds, and that increase in productivity alone warranted an upgrade. That, and far less risk of explosions and fire.
But all of that would be moot if she didn’t finish getting ready for a trip outside. Yesterday, the changeling thought that she had been prepared for a quick jaunt into town, but the sustained chill wasn’t good on her body. This time she wasn’t in such a hurry to get out the door, so she prepared properly by picking out her warmest clothes and layering up. Once she had sat on the corner of the bed and cast the towel to the side, the first thing to go on was a set of thermal underwear that while itchy after extended wear would offer a generous boost in insulation, and she could already feel the effect. She continued the theme of warmth by grabbing up a white wool sweater and a similar pair of lengthy wool socks.
She sat down on the corner of the cot and began with the sweater. Getting it on over the long underwear top was tedious but once the sleeves were set straight the rest went on without issue. The socks went over the underwear leggings, and a pair of black skinny jeans were pulled on over everything else. She was conflicted about utilizing her snowpants since the addition of the thermal underlayer was already making her quite toasty, and eventually decided that she’d go without and just bring them along as a precautionary measure. Wasn’t there something else I was going to… oh yeah.
Another thing that had been on Ocellus’s mind for some time now was that while her parka and pants were generally up to the task of insulating against the cold, the color matched boots left much to be desired. While they were good enough for a few minutes outside, it was clear that most of the attention had gone into the former pieces, and those ill-fitting boots were only tacked on as a gimmicky afterthought. The lack of quality workmareship was something that the astute changeling couldn’t quite wrap her head around. Why make things in a subpar fashion when those same things could be engineered to last much longer. Of course, she knew that it was all about saving as many bits as possible and that there were those who’d take it a step further and intentionally sell underbuilt items to open their profit margins even further, but that mindset just didn’t feel right coming from the equines she loved.
What she had remembered, and what had been pulled out of the shoe compartment were the conceptual opposite of that. Holding one of them up and looking it over, the only adjective that could describe what she felt and saw was quality. They were a gift from Silverstream she’d received a few months earlier when it was just going into winter. The hippogriff was adamant that no friend of hers would go into the coming season unprepared, and proceeded to buy the changeling a pair of new boots from Carousel.
When she had gone in for an initial measurement, Ocellus had feared that what Silverstream and Rarity had in the works would be something gaudy and too embarrassing to wear. But what she had been gifted with in the end quashed any doubts she entertained about her hippogriff buddy. The mid-length, zip-up black boots with a short platform, grippy treaded sole, and slightly accentuated heel were a rather simplistic design which she would have been totally happy with if that was how they came. Three belts with polished brass buckles that looped around the ankles of each were something extra added that had grown on the recipient over several viewings. She felt that they added just enough pazazz to set them apart while retaining a well-built, rugged appearance.
For the first time since getting them, Ocellus slipped the boots on and felt as though they had literally clamped onto her hooves when they touched the bottom. Even without being fastened they refused to fall off when dangling in the air and resisted any forced wiggling. It was simply the tight tolerances of apparel tailor-fitted to her hooves and a combination of friction from the thick socks and the internal insulation that kept them on, her rational mind had decreed, but more whimsical theories had her wondering if Rarity hadn’t put a little magic in them.
Zipping them up and cinching the buckles, she got onto her hooves and ambled around to get a feel for them. Just like before, the extra angle on her hoof was a little off-putting at first, but she rapidly acclimated to that minor change. Beyond that, they were way more supportive than the degrading pair that were all but ready to be replaced. The uncomfortable spots she was accustomed to were completely nonexistent, replaced by a uniform snugness that could only be improved upon in one way.
A trot through Ponyville would be the true test, she concluded, then giggled softly. Silver will be over the moon when she notices that I’m finally wearing them.
Gallus hopped and hovered around his dorm, trying to find the right set of clothing for the day. But wants soon became needs as he picked up random articles from off the floor and gave them a good sniff. The ones that he wrinkled his beak at got tossed in an ever-growing pile in the corner, and the ones that weren’t rank and stale found themselves on the bed.
The selection wasn’t his first choice, but the black underwear; mismatched socks, stonewashed jeans, and gray sweatshirt were the only clean clothes he possessed at the moment so they would have to do. He hopped up and down on one leg as he pulled the underwear up the other side, and switched legs to get them on fully. Everything else went on smoothly, and he was set.
Smolder opened the wooden double doors of the stone framed monstrosity that was her wardrobe and thought about what would be suitable to wear that day. The outer frame may have been granite, but the shelves within were simple boards. There was also a large area for more important clothing to hang in, but she wasn’t interested in anything remotely formal.
The simple shelves below were stocked with folded up shirts of varied types on the top two, and different kinds of skirts, pants, and other types of leggings on the bottom ones. She picked out a vibrant orange tee with a crystal dragon skull graphic on the front and tossed it onto the bed. Undecided on what lower garment she would combine with it, the doors were left open and the drawers that held the more intimate bits of clothing were pulled out.
Finding a comfortable sports bra was easy enough, and pulling it on was even easier. The tricky part was getting a clean set of underwear. She rifled through the mess of lacy thongs in the hunt for something more mundane, but a stray thought about skipping out on the school laundromat caused her to growl in disgust. Her last non-thong was in the hamper, which meant she was stuck with undesirable options. Thunking her head on one of the interior shelves as she stood up straight didn’t help matters much.
“Gah!” she gently rubbed her head, then threw her arms in the air. “Great. Just freaking great. The whole universe must have it out for me today.”
With a huff, she knelt back down and grabbed up a thong – lime green with pink stitching – and quickly slipped it on. After sliding the bottom drawer closed with a bit of force, she went back into the upper section and tried to decide what to grab next. A few seconds of rifling through the skirts and leggings netted a pair of purple sweatpants and matching socks, which were also donned.
Silverstream went over to her bed with a pile of clean clothes and set them down on the blanket. The first item on the stack was a frilly blue thong which was happily donned along with the next items; a pair of black rolled up fishnet stockings that she had to carefully slip her hooves into and unroll up her legs. The next thing to go on was a random bra she had pulled absentmindedly from her dresser, but as she brought it onto her chest and reached around her back to fasten it, she ran into a problem.
No matter how much she stretched and tugged on the straps, the hooks simply wouldn’t reach. That wasn’t the only place where the foundation was ill-fitting, as her breasts exceeded its capacity by several cup sizes. With a now knowing giggle, she cast the bra onto the bed and hopped back over to her dresser. “Silly Silverstream, that was one of your earlier ones.”
A quick search through the top drawer later, and the hippogriff found one that was quite a bit bigger, and with its tag still attached. She had taken her mother’s advice and had bought several larger bra sizes last time she visited Carousel Boutique to accommodate her growing figure. But even with that forward-thinking, it barely fit around her body.
“Huh?” she mused while giving the straps a little adjustment. “I could swear that this size was too big for me a week ago. Mom was right, I am a late bloomer just like her. But is it normal to grow this fast?”
Strange secrets of the universe were something that Silverstream liked to contemplate deeply sometimes – like how changelings transformed or why pizza was so danged good – but the reasons behind why her breasts were growing so quickly were only dwelled upon for a few seconds before she mindlessly shrugged. “Oh well, just means more shopping for me today. I wonder what kind of holiday specials there will be?”
The last few items to go on were a pair of striped purple forelimb warmers that were pulled up almost to the shoulder, and the pink short-sleeved shirt and blue track pants went over most everything else.
It only took one look in the mirror just above the dresser to reveal a small problem with the hippogriff’s choice of attire. She by no means dressed conservatively – always choosing to follow her heart and never be ashamed of showing off her body. But what she had seen was taking things a little bit out of her comfort zone. The way her shirt outlined and hung off her breasts that now almost rivaled Yona’s for size was rather unflattering, and she began to think of ways to mitigate any undesired attention.
The only thing that she had around to wear comfortably indoors that wouldn’t accentuate her expanded figure was a dark blue windbreaker that was a size too big – which was beneficial in this odd case. She found the unworn garment in the back of the top dresser drawer and slipped it on. She zipped it up past her bust and gave herself another examination. It was a little too warm for her liking, but it was a price she would just have to pay to hide the new growth.
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Chapter 4 - Morning Ritual and Shopping Sound ( Part 2/3 )
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Meanwhile in Kludgetown
Many, many leagues away, in a much different climate, and in what some might call a whole different universe, was an endless expanse of sand dunes and rocky outcroppings known as the Bone Dry Desert. One could wander for days through this wasteland and not see another soul, but if you knew your way around, and were tough enough to survive it, you might come across a mountain of sandstone that towered above the desert floor.
This island in the sea of sand was the Free City of Klugetown.
Town may have been in its name, but compared to the population of the surrounding desert wasteland – which was in the single digits at best – it may as well have been a thriving metropolis. With it being a week's march in any direction to find a coastline or civilization, it was a nexus for airship commerce, as that was the only viable mode of transportation.
But traveling by airship didn’t guarantee anyone's safety. All the approaches to the docks were littered with husks of ships that served as reminders of the fury that natural forces could visit upon those who were unprepared, or just unlucky. Airship trade may have come with its own laundry list of perils, but the rewards could easily surmount the risks. Apart from a few indigenous plants and animals that could be harvested and hunted, all food and drink had to be imported from abroad. A fine living could be earned by simply transporting the bare necessities of survival, but that wasn’t where the real money lay.
Being so far removed from the rest of the known world meant that Kludgetown answered to no gods or governments, so their pesky laws and regulations held no sway. Thus, the true way to thrive was to market certain items that were either flat out illegal in the rest of the known world or were surrounded by so much red tape that any kind of profit was nullified. From basic counterfeit prescription drugs, all the way to powerful magical artifacts, anything and everything under the sun that couldn’t be peddled in other places was fair game in the free city. There were even rumors of a doctor who would attempt any surgical procedure no matter how costly, for the right price.
But those were just rumors.
There was also plenty of organized crime brought in by the lawlessness. Every possible gang and syndicate had – or wanted to have – a stake in affairs big and small. From the Trottingham Mafia to the Changeling Cartels and all others in between, they all kept an ear to the ground, waiting for lucrative opportunities to conduct business. If they couldn’t get a decent slice outright, all it took were a few pokes and prods in the right places to alter the situation in their favor.
Just a short distance from the main dock and a little ways into town was the market district, where all the merchandise brought in would be distributed. The whole street was lined with dozens of cracked wood and faded canvas structures that looked like they could collapse at the slightest touch. It was early morning, which was the optimal time to shop. The heat hadn’t skyrocketed yet, and all the merchants were hawking their best stuff.
The yells and screams of stall runners trying to bring attention to their wares and the customers trying to haggle with them drowned out the sound of a rusty old shopping cart making its way down the dusty street. They didn’t hear the unbalanced caster in the front squeaking away – the same one that spun in its socket each time a bump was hit.
And they certainly didn’t hear the music the cart pusher was playing on blast through a pair of headphones that were just clinging together due to a combination of baling wire and electrical tape. They were currently off his ears, and resting around his neck. An equally ratty cable connected them to a bulky cassette player that was clipped to his belt, which was showing more exposed metal than paint on its casing – to the point that the manufacturer’s logo had ceased to exist.
The Abyssinian wasn’t as rough around the edges as his entertainment, but he wasn’t necessarily clean either. The fabric of his black t-shirt had been worn thin over the years, and the vinyl graphic of a fish skull with crossed bones had both faded and cracked right along with it. The black cargo pants were faring about the same, with the material over the knees having faded to gray, and some of the belt loops at the waist had broken at some point. They had been haphazardly repaired with fishing line. The large pockets had been filled with a few small items just bought at the market, and the bags of imported produce that were much too big to fit in them sloshed around inside the cart.
Completing him was a long, red mariner’s greatcoat that was in much better condition compared to the rest of his attire. It wasn’t spotless by any means, sporting its own brand of light wear and tear. There were several points of repair throughout it, but no outside observer would ever be able to discern them. Even after almost two years since the professional restoration occurred, the stitching was still holding strong, and it wasn’t the seamstress’s best thread. Two gold buttons had been added to the breast area of the coat at that time as well, and a Wish You Were In Canterlot decorative pin had been added just below the right one.
He threaded his way through the bazaar, simultaneously listening to his music and keeping a swiveled ear towards his surroundings until a crunch underfoot broke that focus. There was no need to look down, for he already knew that it was broken glass. Most of the taverns were just down the road near the docks, and the local or visiting drunks just loved to bring their empty bottles with them around town and lose them in the street. There were plenty of other little nasties littering the streets as well, but the heavy leather boots with large buckles and a nasty looking steel cap over the toes did a good job protecting his paws.
For any dangers that were above paw level, they also came with armor plating over the ankles and shins. Capper found that feature rather beneficial whenever he was traipsing around the scrapyard or climbing around in a derelict airship for any salvageable components.
With a mild chuff, he carried on his plodding course out of the market and deeper into town. He followed the dense mess of power and data conduits that zig-zagged between each imposing, ramshackle building. The further he pressed on, the denser they became, eventually getting to the point where they barely had enough room to stir nervously in the breeze without touching and shorting out. Naturally, incidents with the high current lines were quite common, and it was an absolute nightmare to rectify problems after they occurred. The cat knew that he had to carry on for just a little longer… until he came upon a sight he had laid green slitted eyes upon plenty of times in just the past year alone.
Kludgetown Power & Utility was an institution that almost everyone who lived in town for some time had to visit monthly if they wanted to keep electricity and data flowing to their residences. Back when Capper was rolling with Verko, he did not need to visit such places – the mob had him covered. And although he was now free in more ways than one, that freedom came with a price, and he now had to pay for all of life’s little necessities, which in this case meant power and a connection to the outside world.
Three large buildings made up the facility, and it was always the biggest and oldest one that was most intimidating to first-time visitors. The power plant for the city was exclusively industrial, with the actual structure being mostly obscured by a latticework of pipes, scaffolds, and staircases that blanketed it. Massive smokestacks reached high into the sky, belching white smoke into the heavens, and they were always the first thing anybody saw when coming into port.
But it wasn’t the inner workings of the building bolted to the outside that intimidated, or the striped stacks leering down upon the mortal beings. It was the fact that, after decades of being accosted by the climate, anything that was exposed to the elements – which was everything – had been stained into several dull shades of brown, with patches of surface rust here and there.
It may have been touched by the sands of time, but that in no means meant that it was ready to fall. There were just as many patchwork repairs – some of them fresh enough to still retain a bit of luster – which greatly contrasted the old, and took it from ratty and dilapidated to a real eldritch horror. Those that viewed it for the first time felt that they had truly reached the end of the world, that civilization had finally bid them farewell.
At least that’s what Capper had jokingly thought during his first visit, but that novelty faded quickly when the place had become just another occasional errand to run in the grind known as life. All the conduits he had followed to get there terminated into an outdoor electrical substation that emitted a distinct hum, even from fifty paces away. And the entire facility was surrounded by a double-layered chain link fence topped with looped razorwire to prevent unwanted incursions.
The second largest building on the site was the telecommunications center. This building was a fair bit newer than the plant, and actually resembled something that business could be conducted within. It was five stories tall with sand scoured windows wrapping around each one. On its roof were a variety of lattice and parabolic antennas that up until a few years back were the sole means of contact with the outside world.
As he drew near the checkpoint on the road ahead, the security personnel at the gate could be seen keeping a callous watch of the area. However, they only gave him a cursory glance before carrying on with their duties. Kludgetowners always passed through that area to get to the public office and pay their dues, which had unfortunately fostered a spirit of complacency when it came to actually protecting the place. They also knew of him from his mob days as well and didn’t want to draw his ire even if he was retired.
He rolled through the gate unchałlenged – cart and all – and pushed his way towards the data center. The newest and smallest building of the bunch, it was still all original and constructed of much more modern and stronger materials. The hope was that it would fare much better than the two older structures, and be much less costly to repair overall. If improving building materials and build quality wasn’t enough, it had been built partially underground for even better protection.
Capper pulled the door to the above-ground portion of the office open and was greeted by a blast of sterile, chilled air. Air conditioning was a novelty for most in the wastes, and was only employed under certain conditions where temperature and humidity needed to be regulated. The sensitive equipment on the inside was no exception, which required a cool climate to run at peak efficiency. He hurried through the door and let it close on its own – just missing the nose of the cart. He carried on into the reception area, dragging the cart behind himself all the way.
He was the only one visiting the utility company at that time, so all the seats in the makeshift waiting area were unoccupied. The only signs of life came from what passed for a front desk, where a female lizard secretary was busying herself with whatever was on her monitor that any visitors would only ever see the back of. Her desk was usually the farthest he ever ventured into the facility, only ever wanting to just pay the bill and hit the road unless business dictated otherwise.
Today was one of those days, and his business partner of sorts was waiting near a very sturdy looking automatic door. Thunder Teeth was the site manager and head engineer of the facility, and a useful acquaintance if you needed something that was hard to find. The burly shark who was garbed in a set of worn leather overalls and equally blemished welding goggles trundled up to his favorite customer, arms opening in greeting.
“Capper! How are ya, my chum!”
Thunder tried to gather the Abyssinian up in his arms but was offered a paw instead. The shark didn’t miss a beat, taking the offered paw and pulling its owner into a friendly pat on the back.
“Here to pay your utility bills again?”
They separated a second later, one more quickly than the other. “Now Thunder, if I came all this way for that, I would have paid at the front desk. I hear you got a little sumthin’ sumthin’ waiting for me?”
“Always straight to business with you, eh?” Thunder patted once on the large front pocket of his coveralls, then a couple more times before sighing in defeat. “Dammit, coulda' sworn it was on me. Ah well, the thing must be in with the other merchandise.”
“C’mon man, you slippin’,” Capper chided the shark whom her considered to be a bit of a friend, more or less.
“Ha! You try moving all this product every month. A small slip of the mind will become the least of your worries. How about we go back to my office and find it, eh. Even if it’s just a short visit.”
Not really seeing any harm in spending a few more minutes to stop in and say hi, Capper followed Thunder over to the security door, where the shark inputted a PIN number on the keypad and then muscled the heavy obstruction open. The duo proceeded through the area just beyond, which was just an office space for handling up-front tasks necessary to the operation. Inside some of the doorways, he caught some glimpses of the IT personnel at work, handling the problems that rather agitated Kludgetowners called in about, and offering their snark and sarcasm in turn.
“So how is the farm running, not to insinuate that I’ve been having any issues with my connection of course.”
Thunder Teeth shrugged his broad shoulders heartily. “I suppose it’s running as well as it wants to. A soon as we get one system stable, two more malfunction. Mostly software gremlins when the machines need to communicate amongst each other, but nothing that a few all nighters can’t fix. Of more note, one of our gem matrixes blew a tube last week and finding a fresh tube for one of those is nearly impossible. Shame, really.”
“Even for you?” Capper didn’t bother to hide shock in his tone, mostly to annoy. “The big fish who can find anything under the sun no matter how deep it hides?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea and think that I didn’t try my business associates first. Unfortunately , they’re more interested in conducting real business and pretty much told me to just modernize and take a hike.”
They would have carried on down conversation street, but when both realized that they were stopped in the middle of the somewhat used hallway the chat died and they carried on further into the facility.
A few more steps past the office block was the bread and butter of the facility. Heavy pawfalls changed from a minuscule click on the smooth concrete to a metallic clang as the office corridor became an elevated catwalk that skirted the edge of a cavernous room. It contained all the servers that kept the network going twenty-four-seven, but unlike the neat rows of matching machines the more developed parts of the world enjoyed, Kludgetown’s data center used whatever they could get ahold of.
The entire floor was jam-packed with dedicated servers and home computers of many types and spanning almost as many eras. Ranging from small desktops to monstrous gem matrixes, any applicable computer that could be put to work was put to work. As a cat who liked to live as frugally and thriftily as possible, Capper took joy in the fact that so many obsolete systems were getting a new lease on life for the benefit of the community.
Interspersed within all this were six or seven engineers like Thunder, actively going system to system and making sure that they were all functioning as they should. Like pretty much every other inhabitant of Kludgetown, they were a menagerie of species and crossbreeds of many shapes and sizes, all working to keep the operation running smoothly. At least that’s what they would have been doing if they weren’t all gathered loosely around a fully lowered scissor lift that would be used to access some of the taller mainframes for maintenance and other out of reach jobs on the farm – either standing next to the large piece of equipment or sitting on the edge of its platform.
They all were in the process of enjoying a meal break, and what Capper could view in their claws looked to be standard working class fare of street bought kebabs, gyros, cold cut sandwiches, luna pies, and some kind of caffeinated drink to wash it all down. Most were chatting as any employees would do while taking a load off, but a few were armed with laptops or equivalent handheld devices old and new used for diagnostics, and were still hammering away at the keys while eating their easily portable meals. And from his vantage point, the abyssinian could also determine that Thunder wasn’t kidding with his earlier omission. The tired body posture and sunken eyes of all around including the portly shark managing it all proved that they were indeed passing on good sleep to stay ahead of the curve.
As much as he loved seeing the treasure trove of repurposed tech and greatly appreciated the relatively thankless efforts required to keep it going, there was no love lost between him and the gods' awful racket that close to a hundred personal and server-grade computers could produce in an enclosed space. The whine and roar of a thousand cooling and exhaust fans spinning at once in what was essentially an echo chamber was something that just couldn’t go unnoticed.
Thunder started to walk sideways, casting a mirthful eye on Capper “I see you’ve taken notice of my grand symphony again?!”
“That’s not exactly music to my ears!” The cat exclaimed as his mentioned body parts flicked in irritation.
“If you hung around them for a week, you’d adjust! My offer still stands, Cap!”
“I’m pretty sure you know my answer! I’m not ready to give up on sunlight just yet!”
They continued across the catwalk towards a glassed-in observation deck on their level that overlooked the server floor. That room was the control center for the whole operation, and entry could only be gained through another coded door, and Capper sighed in relief as the harsh background noise was deadened considerably by the walls and glass. The obvious feature of the space were the giant panes that permitted oversight of everything below.
The wall opposite the window was lined with a couple dozen displays that were used to monitor all the statistics of the computers working away just outside. It wasn’t just that, though, as some of them showed live CCTV feeds of the server farm itself, and all the smaller screens ringed a massive central display that showed the current load on the system as a whole.
But as impressive as the nerve center was, it wasn’t the final destination. The shark led on past the multitude of terminals and office chairs and over to a nondescript heavy steel door in the far back corner of the space. A high voltage warning placard was bolted to the front of it, but that was no deterrent for Thunder who muscled it open and strolling inside.
Thunder Teeth’s office was small to say the least. If it was just an office, Capper would have considered it decent, but since it was also a living space for two, the room was packed with all the necessities and comforts of modern life. While the shark made his way to the closet in the back of the room where he stored all the under the table merchandise, the cat chose to loiter by the door. He didn’t know how long his little package had been sat upon as monthly visits were the only interval for coming to the place, but when you wanted something that just couldn’t be obtained through official channels, a little patience went a long way.
But now that he was so close to the prize, he almost couldn’t contain the impotent excitement that was welling up. As his long tail switched side to side, he continued to observe the search with crossed arms. Whenever there was a goal, he liked to apply all his time and effort into achieving it. Finding just one had taken a little over a decade, and that time wasn’t spent twiddling claws while the world spun.
Meandering a little deeper into the abode, he was now able to see through the halfway ajar door of a business-type attached restroom. The opening was wide enough for him to spot Raquel – Thunder’s significant other – staring into a dirt-haloed mirror while leaning over the sink. The female shark was applying some lip gloss and Capper wondered if he was visible in the reflection. The toothy grin that quickly spread across her mouth confirmed that she indeed could.
“My favorite pussycat returns.” She smacked her lips several times, examining the end result before capping the small tube and leaving the restroom. “What can I do ya for?”
Capper had known the voluptuous shark for a few years now, but her sizeable features always got to him. Especially when she was down to her skimpy bra and short-shorts. He couldn’t help grinning sheepishly as she came over and put a thick-skinned hand on his shoulder.
“Do you need some kind of computer assistance?” She gave a little squeeze. “Or are you looking for a different kind of service?”
There were many things the Abyssinian considered himself to be good at, and conversing with the ladies was definitely one of them. “You know I’d love that babe, but today the pussycat is here on official business only.”
A sharp crash followed by a string of rapid-fire curses drew their attention to the storage closet. Some empty boxes sailed past the open door as well while Thunder located that which was desired.
“Alright ya little bastard, where are ya hiding!”
With a soft sigh, Raquel went over and sat upon the edge of the unfolded futon and gathered up an unlaced boot that was stored under.
“I’ve told Thunder several times now to better organize his shit, but you try telling him that,” she expressed while slipping on the boot and tugging at the laces. “But I suppose it’s his choice to run his side deal the way he likes.”
“Aha! Found you!”
Thunder came out of his storage closet a moment later, and a brown wax paper-wrapped parcel bound with butcher twine was in his claws. He waddled up to the customer but stopped short of handing it over.
“I’m sure you know the drill by now, Cap. Gold gets you the package.”
Truth be told, the Abyssinian was so eager to get what he desired that he had forgotten about paying entirely. For an instant, he worried that he had blown all his bank at the market, but a quick check of his inner breast pocket revealed that that wasn’t the case. As he produced the unforgotten sack of bits that had been counted out to the agreed-upon amount, a little joke couldn’t be resisted.
“And here I was hoping you’d forgotten about that part.”
Thunder rewarded the humor with a very toothy grin. “Only way that would ever happen is if I had you running deliveries.”
Capper returned the smirk. “Now, now, is that a way to treat one of your best clients? I’ve run enough crazy errands for one of my nine lives thank you very much.”
“That’s right, you retired. Keep forgetting.”
“Anywho,” Capper tossed the sack into Thunder’s open hand. “There’s your sweet sweet money my dear sir.”
Thunder passed the package over and opened the baggie to make sure he wasn’t being scammed. As this customer was more or less trustworthy, he didn’t bother counting it all, and all his clients had been in the game long enough to know the dangers of short-changing those who were connected. The shark may have only been small-time, but he could call upon others who weren’t to correct any problems with transactions. He’d never had to go that far with a deal before, but he wouldn’t hesitate if that time ever came.
The shark retied the sack of bits and stuffed it into his front pocket and grinned. “Well, looks like you got what you wanted and I got what was due. Say, If you’re not in too much of a hurry, you wanna stick around and have a little fun with us again?”
Capper held up his paws defensively. “Hey now, even though I did enjoy the last time, I didn’t exactly come prepared if you catch my drift.”
Thunder and his significant other both shared a conspiratorial wink.
“Aw well, looks like the pussycat wants to play with his toys instead, ha!”
They both bust into chuckles and Raquel blew a raspberry. Now, Capper was typically a cool cat when it came to business, but this time that mindset slipped slightly.
“Aargh, I thought I told you guys not to laugh!”
The forecast had been correct... for once. The wind through the buildings had picked up considerably over the small amount of time he'd spent indoors. The fine silt that clung to everything in layers was now being whipped up into an orange haze, which was already firing up his sinuses. That was enough to surpass his personal threshold for unmasked discomfort, so he worked the tan scarf up over his muzzle and sealed the edges of the improvised filter to the best of his ability.
He'd been around the area long enough to know that the change in weather was only a prelude to the main front of the sandstorm, and that he had about fifteen minutes before it swept through. He didn't need to stare at the billowing brown mass on the western horizon for more than a second to understand what was in store for the city. As far as the abyssinian was concerned, the only sight the storm would get of him would be his coattails flapping in the breeze as he hurried home.
Even though it wasn’t quite upon them yet, other Kludgetowners were seen and heard rushing around to complete whatever business they had so they could batten down the hatches and forego getting blasted by the main event. Of course, not all of that business was legitimate. There was profit to be made in the distracting chaos, and Capper felt he had to truly keep his awareness up so he didn’t fall victim.
As soon as the husky shark stepped out of the blackened alcove ahead and make to block the path, he knew that lady luck wasn’t on his side that day. He came to a halt with still a fair distance between the two – the cart full of his things just off to his left side. The handle was gripped by a clenched left paw, and he considered his options.
As far as he could tell, the potential thief was unarmed apart from his naturally occurring weapons. Capper wasn’t a brawler by any means, but fists were something that he had experience with as plenty of those had been ducked and dodged in little scraps over the years.
Then the knife was drawn.
Running was generally the safest possibility when it came to blades, but that would mean abandoning the rusty cart and a week's worth of provisions within. As with almost all things in the wastes, food had to be imported, and the prices were abysmal due to this. Having just paid all his bills, and having spent a little extra on top for personal pleasures had left the cat practically broke for the time being.
“Now, we can either do this the easy way,” the thief stated as he kept on course, the blade held low in a wringing right hand. “Or we can do this the ha-”
Capper wasn’t interested in dragging the situation out any longer than necessary, so he pushed the right side of his coat back to unholster the best weapon he possessed. The double-barreled flintlock pistol was at his hip in an instant, and he let go of the cart to swipe both hammers back with two very distinctive clicks .
The shark stopped in his tracks, and the knife began to quiver. Any thoughts about a clean break were forced to instantly shift to ones of survival when he saw the twin barrels leveled at his midsection. With his victim’s left paw now grabbing the short wooden foregrip, and two claws on the triggers ready to cut him down, he thought twice about going for the cart.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Capper grinned behind the scarf, his voice muffled slightly. “Did I break your concentration?!”
The thief took a defensive step back, but the knife was retained in his hand. “Hey dude, I-I want no trouble, okay!”
The Abyssinian kept his gun up. “Good, good. Because, as I well know, and you probably know, powder ain’t exactly cheap ‘round here, so I’d hate to waste it on a scamp like yourself.”
“Then again,” the double barrel was suddenly brought up to eye level, and a slitted pupil peered down the crude sights. “I really want to get home and have a nice meal for once, and maybe crack open a beer. So how about you drop that wicked lookin’ blade, and blow on out of here like the storm that’s almost upon us.”
The shark took one last forlorn look at the rusty cart, then allowed the knife to clatter onto the ground as he beat a quick retreat back into the shadows.
After keeping a bead on the mugger until he disappeared from view, and on the alley for a few more tense seconds, Capper lowered his guard a little and went over to the fallen knife. He still kept his wits about him, and his gun fully cocked, as he bent down and scooped it up.
After a quick one-pawed inspection of the weapon. the cat concluded that it too had been stolen at some point. A supple leather grip and a custom paint job on the blade told him that it was a ceremonial commission, something that would be carried for status rather than practicality. And that didn’t stop him from jogging back to the cart and tossing it in with all else. Custom jobs like it could be worth a fair bit to the right buyer, and he wasn’t going to squander such an opportunity.
He took another long stare down the alley, and once certain that the thief wasn’t going to make a second attempt, he brought the hammers on his flintlock back down to half-cock and holstered it. It was now time to go. The little distraction had already taken up valuable time, and he didn’t want to be out in the storm without a more substantial filtration apparatus.
Capper had made it back to his little compound with nary a moment to spare. The storm front was just about upon the city, and he had to fight a nasty crosswind as he all but ran the last few feet to the front door of the defunct windmill called home. Once there, he wheeled the cart up against the wall of the building and swiftly used his keys to unlock it. He turned the handle and shouldered it open, yanking the cart through before the gale could take it away. The door was then closed, locked, and deadbolted with practiced ease.
Only then, in the relative safety of his home, did he feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. He also took note of his hitched breaths, almost tearing the scarf away from his face. It wasn’t panic per-se as he’d experienced so many horrors in his life that nothing really phazed him anymore, but almost having to fight for life and limb followed by running away from the closing storm would cause the adrenaline to coarse through the veins of anyone in that situation. At least that’s what he’d rationalized while intentionally slowing his breathing to a smoother pace. Therefore he wasn’t about to let it slow things down anymore than it already had.
Yanking the cart over several rough patches of wood in the entry, the first thing he did after entering the main living space of his converted windmill was to visit the fridge to offload all the perishables. The dilapidated, crusty fridge that had been pulled out of a local scrapheap when the cat first came to town and had served him somewhat well ever since. It was also very old, to the point that it was made almost entirely out of wood that had warped and split over many decades of sitting out in the elements. But that didn’t stop him from carelessly slinging the creaking door open and getting all the necessary things stored away. The knife was also dealt with by setting it up on the dining table to further examine later.
The next place Capper went to was a cramped pantry just off the kitchen, and he started to move several sacks and many cans of nonperishable food into their designated areas. As he toiled, he could feel the whole building quiver and creak as a mass of air buffeted against the walls, and sensitive ears could hear sand and whatever else was being thrown up blasting away at the exterior. It was all paid no mind, as storms like that were just par for the course when it came to living in Kludgetown.
A fully stocked pantry and fridge took the mildly stressed thoughts out of his mind, and he walked back out into the main living area better for it. Then something else took precedence. All the turbulence in the atmosphere caused friction, which in turn could make for a brilliant lightning show. But, it also served to create the ultimate bane for those of feline disposition.
Static electricity.
With a grumble of displeasure, Capper quickly stripped out of the dusty overcoat and carried it in an outstretched paw over to the coat rack, where it found a new home on the top peg. He then retrieved his special package from the inside breast pocket, wincing as the wool-like fabric discharged a nasty shock into his paw. The duster had been a part of him for the longest time, but he never wanted anything to do with it whenever a storm roared through.
Passing the kitchen table once again, he exchanged the parcel for the decorative knife and rotated it around in his paws. The first rule of possessing anything hot was to do what you wanted to do with it as soon as possible. He wanted to fence it and see what kind of profit it could turn, but nothing of that nature could be done until conditions improved.
It will be several hours before the storm passes, so I may as well make the best out of it.
Capper set the crux of his thoughts down for the time being, and plodded over to his oven. Of all the appliances in the kitchen, it was the oldest and most worn by far. Originally, the mass of cast iron was supposed to be a wood burner only, but as technology crept forward so did it to an extent. At some point, it was retrofitted with a propane burning system and the portable cylinder that fueled it sat in a cobbled-together retainer that was welded to the side. But even with the modification, it was no modern marvel.
He grabbed one of the few rudimentary twist valves by the oven door and cracked it open slightly. Once a faint but telltale hiss could be heard coming from the depths of the oven, the manual igniter for that part itself was pulled out to its fullest extent and then shoved back in. The little flint on the end of the rod struck home, and with a boosh , the burners inside came to life. After adjusting the fuel flow for an optimal burn, it was time to prepare lunch.
A baking tin was gathered, along with some cooking oil and basic seasonings. He had intended to keep things simple and only prepare some cured fish fillets, but it turned into something more elaborate as he went on. Another tin was retrieved and he raided the pantry for some potatoes, opting to leave the skins on and just slice them into thick chips with a paring knife. Some more exotic herbs and spices had also been found to amp things up. It was a time for celebration after all.
When all the preparation for the fish and chips was complete and both tins were in the oven, Capper found himself with about fifteen minutes to spare. He was again left with nothing productive to busy himself with. Times like these would usually be passed by putting an old record of Abyssinian folk music on the equally old gramophone that had been looted from a wrecked airship a few years back and sitting down in the nearby armchair with a coffee or other drinks, but he wasn’t too keen on easy listening today.
So all of that was bypassed as he went up to a side window where a potted plant of catnip weed was growing on the sill. The plant itself had been harvested recently, so it didn’t obstruct the view – not that there really was one. The initial, strongest phase of the storm had passed over while Capper prepared his meal, and the secondary phase that would last much longer had settled in. Insanely powerful gales had given way to lesser winds and it wasn’t quite as dark, but the swirling miasma of gray and tan still brought down to zero. Sporadic flashes of static lightning ignited the silhouettes of neighboring structures, with longer intervals between them and the subsequent rolling thunder.
The setup on the table below was far more interesting. Two cobbled together speakers stood crookedly on either side, with several wires sitting loose in the center. The missing piece was currently clipped to his belt, which was easily plucked off there and planted in between. The next thing to leave his person was the ratty headphones, which were unplugged from the device and found their place on a tiny shelf off to the side. Now, it was just a simple matter of plugging in the speakers, and the portable player was transformed into a home audio setup.
He was about to sift through his cassette stash for something that suited his mood, but he remembered to plug in the DC power cord to save the batteries. The player used an obscure battery size that was already hard to come by in the big world, which made it almost impossible to buy replacements at the local vendors. Thankfully, folks were operating in town that made their livings producing counterfeit versions of popular products.
Homebrew power cells were among the most popular of the broad range of things produced in the factories and small-time shops. and they were made for many applications and came in many shapes and sizes. Thanks to some odd jobs that were of dubious legality, he had been able to secure a good deal with one of the producers for not only the two cells necessary for the player to function but for a box of spares that sat next to the table.
With the power now sorted, he knelt and lifted open the lid of the chest that was directly under the sound system. Inside was his amassed collection of vinyl records and cassettes, which were the only formats he ever delved into. After picking through the plastic boxes for something that fit his mood, he came back up with one and quickly figured out who the artist was.
“Yeah, that’ll do nicely.”
One tape was ejected; another was slotted in. A paw slammed the door shut, and a claw pressed play.
As a chugging beat filled with loud guitars and strong drums filled the room, Capper slowly turned the volume knob up until the sounds of the outside were drowned out. What now blasted out the speakers was full of cracks, pops, hisses, and distortion, but it was still better than nothing.
Feelin’ down and dirty, feelin’ kinda mean!
It only took a second for the Abyssinian to start grooving to the music, and a few more to grab a canned beer from the fridge.
I’ve been from one to another extreme!
He took a long pull from his liquor, then picked up his package and sauntered over to what at first glance looked like a few wooden Storm King shipping crates that had been pushed into a dark corner to free up floor space. At least that’s what he hoped any would-be burglar would think as well. But it was so much more.
The two crates that jutted into the room the furthest had a gap in between big enough for a narrow chair to fit. Everything above that was obscured by a remarkably clean, tan canvas sheet which was draped over the rest of the pile. It was covering and protecting his most valuable – if not most cherished – possession.
This time I had a good time, ain’t got time to wait!
Holding the beer in one paw and the package in the crook of his elbow, he grabbed a corner of the canvas and pulled it off to the side to reveal his first and only computer system. The machine itself – which rested on a plywood sheet that spanned the gap between crates – could easily be mistaken for something else entirely.
I wanna stick around till I can’t see straight!
The big, brushed metal box in the center of the desk looked for all intents and purposes to be the main driver of the system, with its size alone enough to fool anyone not in the know. That size gave it multiple avenues of expandability. To the right of the blank panel with a power button in the bottom left corner were the vertical expansion bays – seven in total – along with a five and a quarter inch floppy drive sitting sideways on the far end. The scuffs and scratches adorning the body implied that was well-used at best, and the dent on the side implied that it was kicked around a bit at worst.
A very small portable color television perched on the top of the box, but unfortunately, it had been stripped of any kind of protective casing by junkyard scavengers. Only a thin aluminum frame was left to hold things together, and all the wires and other bits that hung out in the open air showed that it wasn’t doing a good job at that. Despite its less than great life, the most important component of the television – its screen – was still in perfect working order. But despite the less than stellar looking monitor sitting on top, the Peripheral Expansion Box was not the computer.
That title belonged to the keyboard.
For those that were better versed in technology, all they had to do was follow the giant, faded black ribbon cable that ran from the bigger component and terminated into a port on the right side of the smaller computer to get a concept of what was going on. The Text Equipment TE-100/5A was a squat all-in-one system that was predominantly comprised of a keyboard which was rather simplified compared to the modern standard. Off to the right of the board was a peculiar looking drive which was recessed down into the housing, and it only accepted cartridges of an obscure form-factor. Unlike the beaten up expansion box, this device was in great condition, without any scratched steel or cracked plastic which was all too common for machines of such vintage.
Fill my eyes with that double vision.
Capper pulled up a seat, which in this case was another crate with a ratty looking cushion from a barstool set loosely on top. It was not the ideal situation comfort-wise, but when on a tight budget you made do with materials readily available. He took another strong gulp of his beer, and set the half-empty can on the desk, ready to finally tear the wrapper off the package that had been so elusive.
No disguise for that double vision.
As soon as the paper and twine fell into his lap, as soon as he saw that faded sticker on the cartridge and felt that weathered casing, he was hit with a strong sense of nostalgia... and longing. Old and repressed memories of Abyssinia – the homeland – rushed to the forefront of his mind. Vague visions of parents he never knew, living and growing up in that halfway home in Panthera, and of the machine he sat before now.
Any introspection into those earlier times – or thought of – was almost always stuffed down by a wall of harsh cynicism. What happened had happened, and nothing could change that fact. The only way to keep afloat in the world he had inhabited was to keep his eyes on the horizon and milk the present for every opportunity it presented. It was only on rare occasions that he let that mindset go for a moment; this was one of those times.
On the eve of the Storm Kingdom’s invasion, while those wiser were packing the bare essentials and fleeing into the wilderness, he had been preparing the home’s computer system for travel. It was just sitting out in the open, he couldn’t just leave the poor thing to the invaders. So he stuffed it and whatever else could fit into the rucksack that was much too large for his teenage frame, and stowed away on a fleeing merchant vessel.
“Hmph,” he chuckled, and then ran a paw across the top of the machine. “Out of all the things I could have taken with me, I chose you. After all, you were the best system an alley cat like me could ask for at the time.”
Ooh! When it gets through to me, It’s always new to me...
Not wanting to go any further on that particular train of thought, he switched gears by reaching for the power button on the expansion box. Unlike modern machines, the TE had a bit of a startup procedure. The bigger component had to be booted first, and he pressed the big red button in the bottom left corner of an otherwise barren front panel. With a dim red light coming to life on the fifth expansion slot, he reached down by the bottom corner of the One-Hundred for the textured power switch and clicked it to the right.
My double vision gets the best of me!
It only took about two seconds for the whole system to boot fully, and another one for Capper to grumble as the BASIC interface popped up in green text. One of the pitfalls of keeping a machine of such vintage up and running was the heightened probability of component failure, and the original BIOS chip had done just that. Even the most well cared for of objects would fail at some point – especially when exposed to harsh environments – so that meant a trip to the local salvage for a replacement.
Naturally, they didn’t have exactly what he was looking for, which was a genuine Text Equipment chip with that company’s operating system onboard. So the next best thing to do at that time was to buy a homebrew chip with a more complex, third party operating system. Capper knew his way around hardware, but his knowledge of the software was rudimentary at best. He was going to get the real deal through Thunder, but a much more important opportunity had presented itself at the last minute.
The computer may have been a little more inconvenient to operate as a result, but the solid and flashing lights of the expansion bays that glowed a nominal yellow meant that it was functioning, which was all that truly mattered.
The first time he had played a video game was on that very system, and it awakened a bit of a passion. Of course, he was barely able to scrape by back then, so finding a new one was always a rare treat. Regardless, he would play as much as possible during the allotted time and had become proficient at what he considered to be the greatest one of them all.
Now, after a decade and some odd years, he once again held in his paw a copy of that very game. Capper had been risking it all just to save the computer, he didn’t have time to hunt down rogue games as well. The only software he had packed with it was whatever was in its drives at the time. Ever since then he’d been slowly piecing the collection back together. Some components were quite elusive to any collector, but he had also come across several additions that were new to him.
I’ve lived all my years in a single minute!
The Abyssinian didn’t know for how long he’d been gripping the peripheral joystick, but simply jiggling it around with nothing on the screen wasn’t very productive. Without any further adieu, he popped the cartridge into the drive next to the keyboard, manually typed in the path, and hoped that it would take.
The screen went blank for an apprehensive few seconds, then the main menu for the program snapped into frame. The image displayed was a simple one, with cute little kittens sitting on a shoreline – each one holding a fishing pole. As soon as it displayed the title of Kitty Fishing Adventures in a rainbow of pastel letters, a truly genuine smile graced his lips and he excitedly took a swig of the beer.
The sneeze was as unexpected as it was sudden, and the fact that it was mid-swallow sent Capper into a massive coughing and sputtering fit. The back of his sinuses burned in irritation as he hacked away – still having the forethought to turn away from the setup and spare it of any mess. He was able to get sorted out after a few more seconds, but he swore that he heard the older kids at the home once again chastising him for enjoying a game that was forkittens.
Shut up! It’s awesome!
He looked down and examined the beer still in paw, wondering if the alcohol had helped dredge up the past. No. He only had a few sips thus far, not even enough to get mildly buzzed, and it would take more than one to take things that far.
The little eight-bit jingle coming from the tinny speakers – which was mostly drowned out by the stronger music – brought Capper back to the moment. By a bit of luck and a bunch of coin, he had been reunited with a long lost love, and the last thing he was willing to do was to let ancient history ruin the moment. He didn’t care what cats thought of his gaming choices back then, and he sure as shit didn’t now.
Setting the can off to the side and then cracking his knuckles, he placed digits upon the keyboard and started typing out his inputs. After pressing enter, the game switched to its menu where the location select and options dialogues were displayed. The number one key was next, and that took him to a list of locations to fish from. Number six, Sunset Shores, was his personal favorite, so he figured that was as good a place as any to get reacquainted. With that level queued up, he held down the only control key on the keyboard and pressed six – which when modified in such a way acted as a start command.
It switched surprisingly quickly to the actual game, and Capper took a moment to sit back and let the nostalgia trip take hold. The beach scene, with a wooden pier stretching out into the lapping waves of the ocean and a pink-tinged sky streaked with bright clouds illuminated by the sun dipping halfway below the vast horizon looked almost surreal, and harkened back to a time where survival wasn’t as paramount. He felt that he could easily just pull up a lawn chair – kick back – and watch the sky while sipping on a margarita. He didn’t possess such things, but he did have half a can of beer, which he took down to a quarter after a few gulps. And then, with a stupid grin on his muzzle, he made his first cast in many years, the hook and bobber soaring out to sea and plunging into the water with a cartoonish, exaggerated splash.
Boy, I sure missed this.
View Online
Chapter 4 - Morning Ritual and Shopping Sound ( Part 3/3 )
Yona, Smolder, and Ocellus headed down the road towards Ponyville. Even though Gallus had told them to wait by the entrance to the school grounds, two of the three didn’t have the patience for that and had begun a lazy sojourn into town – with the odd changeling tagging along.
This time, Ocellus had been prepared with not only warmer clothing, but a hot water bag under her coat and a few hoofwarmers in her pockets. Thanks to the better preparation, she found out that things were tolerable enough to open her hood a bit and actually be heard easily when she struck up conversation.
“So, what kind of system do you guys think I should get? Provided it's within the budget of course.”
Yona kept moving along on hind legs, an open bag of potato chips grasped in a left forehoof. Her right dipped into the bag and pulled out a mass of tasty, salty goodness which was shoveled into her waiting maw. She barely began chewing them down when she was asked for her input, thus she wound up quite literally spitting out her suggestion.
“Yona think changeling should get big tower with lots of room for many hard drives, given changeling loves to hang around library and study all the time. Put entire library in machine, and never deal with testy librarian again!”
Smolder scooted away from Yona’s spray and was next to voice her opinion on the matter. “True. But I don’t know about putting it all on hard drives. All she would have to do is get a ton of floppies or some CD’s and burn it all onto that. It would take up some desk space, but would be so much more affordable. And if you really want to you can always buy extra drives down the road.”
“Dragon make good points. Focus should be on strong GPU and CPU.”
Ocellus picked up her pace so she could participate without yelling. “I don’t need a supercomputer. Just enough of one to play with you guys would be great.”
The dragon held up a claw. “But you want to get something that’ll last you for some time. The last thing you want is to completely cheap out and get something unreliable that you hate.”
“Yona agrees. System is like battleaxe! You want best built, most durable weapon so you can use it longest!”
Smolder smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Here we go again with even more warrior analogies from the greatest yak warrior there ever was.”
An eagle’s screech came from the sky above, and they didn’t need to glance up too much to know who it was. Silverstream and Gallus descended towards the road – the latter cradling Sandbar in his forelimbs. With several mighty flaps of his wings, the griffon came to a hover and slowly powered down. When they were only several limb lengths or so above, the precious cargo was released and the pony was forced to gallop a few steps forward to keep from eating pavement. He gave his ride a pained look when he landed next to him.
“Gallus, dude. You gotta drop me closer to the ground next time. Falls like that aren’t so good on my hooves.”
Sandbar flexed one hoof at a time to alleviate the discomfort of the rough landing as Silverstream came in for hers off to the left, and instantly began bouncing on antsy hooves.
“We all ready to see what kind of super-powerful system we can get for Ocellus?!”
Four nodded in agreement, while Smolder gave Gallus a quick look and then crossed her arms.
“Yeah. Let’s get this over with so we can get to our game.”
The griffon eyed her skeptically, frowning. “You’re still onboard, right?”
She scoffed at the loaded question. “Of course I am. Been thinking about it since last night and realized buying something newer is probably the best bet. We can exhaust other options before trying to fix things and possibly getting blown up.”
“Alright, that’s good. Thought you might back out after the other night.”
“Like I said, thinking on it changed my perspective. We dragons may be a… little slow to come around, but when we do we move the mountains. So yeah, let’s go get O a new system, that work better for ya?”
Gallus’s expression became more agreeable. “Yeah. Now let’s get this show on the road!”
The gang – now in its entirety – continued their trek to the computer store, gabbing about various topics as they passed out of the outer suburbs and entered the more centralized business quarter, where small shops were just getting ready to open their doors for the day. Some of the more superfluous ones had rope signs hanging on the inside of the windows stating that they were closed for the holidays, and an estimate on when they would likely reopen. Yona also noticed that some of those signs were quivering, almost like…
“Yona feel ground… shaking?”
Gallus looked over toward her. “What do you mean?”
“I-I’m feeling it too,” Sandbar vocalized with a thick warble. “I hope it’s not some kind of monster from the everfree!”
The others on the ground quieted down as they too felt the rumbling in the cobblestones beneath them. Concerned eyes glanced around rapidly as the buildings around them began to shake loose their accumulated burdens of snow and ice. First, it was the icicles hanging off the eaves that broke free, the frozen spikes shattering against the street. Then, the snow on the sloped roofs started to shift, slowly sliding down and off to add even more to what was already banked up.
Then they heard the thunder.
Now with something more to go off of than tremors, they all cast their eyes and ears in the direction where the noise was loudest – which was directly down the main drag behind them. Gallus and Silverstream were the first to spot the tips of ears, feathers, and horns starting to appear over the slight curvature of the road, followed by the faces of many determined, and desperate creatures. There was only one word that accurately described the situation, and both flyers shouted…
“Stampede!!!”
By now, all present could see the mass of ponies and other scattered creatures spanning the entire road and its unplowed shoulders. The crunching of snow under their hooves and paws were almost as loud as the ones that smacked against the exposed stone. From several sidestreets, more creatures funneled into the main group, and those with flight capability zoomed overhead.
As the mass rapidly approached, the six friends readied up in their own ways. Gallus wanted to go down and at least pick up one of his friends, but he was suddenly forced to dip and dart around the sky as dozens of pegasi, hippogriffs, dragons, griffons, and the few changelings tough enough to handle winter flight plowed on through with nary a second thought. Silverstream was subjected to the same fate as well, and both had to be mindful of colliding with one another.
Yona did what her kind did best, and faced the new adversary with her head held low and horns presented. She could see the determined faces of several yak students in the mix, and a forehoof was scraped against the ground while she glared directly into their eyes – daring them to try and take her on.
Just like most flight-capable species, a changeling’s first impulse at the appearance of sudden danger was to fly, and Ocellus could feel her wings instinctually struggling to open. Just like the rest of her species, those membrane wings weren’t suited for sub-freezing temperatures, so most kept them folded back and wore their winter gear overtop – just like the parka which kept hers pinned. There was a zipper on the back that would allow for wing usage, as was the norm with pretty much all pegasi derived clothing. But even if there was enough time to unzip it, where would she fly to?
The sky was already filled with reckless fliers, and adding another set of wings to that mix would only make a mid-air collision that much more of a possibility. With that in mind, the changeling fell back onto her learned abilities and started thinking up a good disguise. She didn’t want to turn into something big and scary and cause an even bigger problem, just something sturdy.
Something sturdy…
Seeing the danger that her flying friends were now in, Smolder quickly took wing to assist but was only successful in getting a little ways up before she had to also partake in the bizarre aerial ballet that Gallus and Silverstream engaged in. It was a dance that was short-lived, as Smolder crashed into the ground after dodging a dragon twice her size but was able to land on her legs without injury. Those whom she was rushing to help where nowhere as fortunate, with both being knocked out of the sky by several errant fliers who didn’t give a second glance back as they regained composure and hurried along to their destination. Seeing her dazed and disoriented friends scraping themselves up off the road, and knowing that if she even tried to run over and help she would be subjected to the stampede, the dragon could only hunker down behind Yona and brace for impact.
Sandbar was rooted to the spot; the sight of dozens of creatures galloping his way without any intention of stopping locking his legs right up. It was at this moment that a large shadow grew to eclipse the colt, and he looked up with a visible shake – unsure of what to expect. The boughs and branches of a leafy summer shade tree were what filled his vision. His woes were forgotten for the briefest of moments as he struggled to understand this new development.
It was a tree no doubt, but it was unlike anything that called the Ponyville area home. Most notably, the coloration was way off, and there was something unnatural about the movement of the branches. Then, he heard a faint, but a terse whisper of his name that came from the trunk, and that got his legs into gear just enough to gallop to safety.
Then it hit.
The thunder of a hundred hooffalls against stone assailed their ears, and buffeting winds blew their manes, feathers, and fringes all over the place as the mob blazed around them without pause. Luckily, those were the only negative outcomes for most of the group as Yona’s strategy was paying off. The power and determination in her olive irises caused more timid creatures to stop dead in the street, only to be brutally shunted along by those behind. For those who hadn’t fallen victim to the yak staredown – or were immune to it – they simply parted around the obstruction and carried on.
The unfortunate ones were Gallus and Silverstream, who had just recovered from their crash when they got creamed by those on the ground – which completely obscured them from the view of their cohorts in the street. All they could do was curl up defensively and protect their heads and necks from the flurry of hooves and paws.
The others who happened to be looking that way could only watch as their friends disappeared from view. They wanted to help as well, but they were now hemmed in on all sides by the mob and overhead swarm. The only option was to stay grouped and wait it out.
The harsh din of galloping hooves began to thin out, and the horde started to do the same as well. In a few more seconds, the number of creatures had dwindled to mere stragglers, and Smolder could now start to see the resulting carnage. The large snow banks that had lined the road from the outskirts all the way to town hall had been completely flattened, and all that snow had been sprayed up onto the sides of the buildings and back onto the roadway. Any kind of snow removal tools or yard decorations that had been left outside were now either scattered around or completely destroyed, but that was the least of their concerns.
For sets of concerned eyes focused on the area where Silverstream and Gallus went down, and they quickly spotted their half-buried forms just off the road. Sandbar inhaled sharply and Ocellus’s shapeshift popped out of existence while Yona stomped over and snorted.
They then spotted movement from the fallen, and when both of their snow-covered heads popped up, everybody sighed in relief. The first thing Gallus did was glare down the street at the retreating stampede, and try to figure out just what in the high tartarus was going on around there. Silverstream did the same but chose to look in the outbound direction. She observed a straggling earth pony detouring around the grouping of the others in the street and galloping through the freshly disturbed snow.
With an alarmed squeak, she ducked her head down as the filly leaped over. Gallus didn’t have the same type of reaction time, and he had only just begun to glance that way when the fur missile slammed into his head and shoved it back down into the snow.
Finally, with the way clear, the yak, dragon, pony, and changeling galloped over to the fliers and helped them out of their snowy imprints.
“Sweet Celestia!” Sandbar cried. “Are you guys alright!”
Gallus spat out a beak full of salty, dirty snow and got himself up the rest of the way. “I think most of them were able to see us and jump over. We only took a few blows here and there. All I care about is why ?”
The ground in their vicinity shook slightly as Yona slammed her hoof down. “Mildly enraged yak also wants to know!”
Sandbar, who was born and raised in Ponyville, did his best to placate his angered friends. “I’ve seen a few herds like that before, but there is usually a valid reason for it.” He glanced around the area and airspace for any kind of threats but found none, which only left him even more confused.
“I wonder what got them so riled up…?”
Smolder was also going to vent her frustrations at the sour turn of events, but something that had just brushed up against her leg changed everything.
“Guys.”
She picked up a piece of printer paper that had most likely fallen from the saddlebags of one of the stampeding ponies and flicked it a few times to clear some snow off. “I think this may have had something to do with it.”
They all huddled around Smolder to get a good look at the dragon’s find. What had been printed in black and white was very similar to the advertisements found in their favorite tech magazines, with the images of several different complete systems and standalone components juxtaposed in front of a holiday background. Across the top was the logo for the local computer store, and as they read the text below, they became more and more uneasy.
Come one, come all!
Come to our first annual Hearth’s Warming Day The Fires of Friendship Firesale, where you can buy all your favorite software and games at 50, 80, and possibly 90 percent off!
Need a new system? We have them!
All computers and computer component prices have been slashed by 80 percent! This is a special one-time offer, so get your system while you still can!
There were several other miscellaneous items listed as on sale, but those were forgotten as the group realized just what was going on. They were initially thrilled at the prospect of possibly being able to afford the best system in the store and possibly some goodies to go with it. Then they devolved into frantic shouting as the reality that they weren’t the only ones heading that way took over.
“Oh no! We’ll never get a system for Ocellus if all those if those other creatures get there first!”
“That herd of ponies is gonna clean that shop out!”
“If shop sells out, Yona smash shop into ground!”
“Guys.”
“I’m right there with you, sister!”
“I-I’m okay with not getting a system, too…”
“Guys!”
Instantaneously, the five panicking creatures ceased their shouting and looked up at the hovering griffon who had screamed the loudest. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and his chest was heaving. After a few heavy breaths, he opened his eyes and said something much more sensible.
“All we need to do is get one of us in there to secure a system and buy it. I can fly ahead and do just that.”
“Hang on there, birdie!” Smolder took off to hover next to Gallus and Silverstream. “You’re gonna need some backup in there. I know that ponies are nice here and all, but there’s bound to be friction in a mob like that.”
Gallus wanted to protest, but knowledge of the risks of going into something like that solo made him think better of it. “Alright then. If you’re coming, then Silver and Ocellus oughta come too.” The griffon looked down at the still shaken up changeling. “I know your wings are sensitive to the cold, so I’ll carry you there.”
Gallus was about to fly back down and scoop her up, but a nagging talon attached to an overly excited hippogriff waving about in the air caught his eye.
“Oh! Oh! Can I carry her there!”
The griffon looked back at the changeling for confirmation, and when he got the nod he backed off.
“Silverstream will get you there.”
“What about us?”
The two non-fliers of the gang looked up at their skybound friends, and Smolder gave an answer.
“You’re just gonna have to hoof it with Yona, but make sure you’re quick. If things go south in there, we want all the help we can get.”
The scene at the entrance to the shop was far worse than they had imagined.
The entire market district had been inundated by a writhing sea of creatures big and small, all vying for enough space to slip into their favorite stores and snag some holiday deals. The four had given up looking for a landing zone by the store and looked for a spot on the periphery to set down. Unfortunately, each time they tried to do that, one or several fliers from the swarm that they shared the sky with would swoop in and take it for themselves. Gallus was not a fan of that fact.
“Gah! It’s no good, we can’t land!”
“There! There’s a spot!”
Smolder pointed down at the mouth of an alleyway next to the shop, but by the time he could track her outstretched claw the opening had disappeared.
“Nevermind.”
After a few more orbits of the area and one too many close-calls, Gallus decided they had to get on the ground. He scanned along the thin alley that ran alongside the store and saw that the side street it connected to was practically devoid of life. The alley itself was much too cramped to land in, and setting down on the narrow road wouldn’t be as easy as the center of the market on a normal day, but he and those with him were skilled flyers so that wasn’t an issue.
“We can land on that sidestreet and come back in through that alley! It’s all we got at this point!”
The griffon wasn’t sure if they got all that, so he also made some universal claw gestures in the general direction as well. They winged away from the plaza and over the roofs of Ponyville’s most profitable stores, and Gallus and Smolder touched down lightly on the other side. Silverstream landed with a bit more gusto as she was weighed down with a passenger, but it was still easy work.
“And the eagle has landed!” The hippogriff cheered. “How was my flying?”
Ocellus carefully dismounted her somewhat crazy taxi and forced a grin past her initial expression of relief. “It really wasn’t that much different than riding Gallus. Maybe a few less barrel rolls in the future?”
Silverstream was aghast at the implication of flying recklessly, but she let it slide for her friend’s sake. “Okay, okay, no stunts next time you ride.”
Just as Gallus got his wings folded comfortably Smolder came up beside him. “So we're walking then?”
“Do you have a better plan?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Then let’s get moving.”
The alley was just an unpaved dirt track that had been severely rutted up from trailer traffic over the years, which made the rough surface which also had the added gift of being iced over treacherous to tread upon. They made slow progress, making sure to not sprain any ankles, as they didn’t need any injuries on top of everything else. That didn’t stop the banter though.
“I can’t believe that the one store we all frequent regularly is having a giant sale and everybody knows except us! We were just in there the other day, what kept us out of the loop?”
Gallus had an excuse. “Well I don’t know about you Smol, but finals were a real bitch this year. Didn’t have much time out in the wild to think about anything else.”
“And you got A’s across the board for your effort,” Ocellus added in. “Great job! And I’m sure that beats rotting in detention because of a cheat sheet.”
The griffon grumbled. “I thought we were never going to speak of that again.”
“Oops, eh heh. Kinda slipped out.”
Gallus patted on the denim pocket where he was keeping his wallet “Anyway, those good grades are what’s gonna get you back in the game.”
“Speaking of that. Do we have some kind of plan when we get back out there?”
“Apart from just getting in and grabbing something?”
“I just-” Smolder almost tripped over a rut. “-wish there was a better way than slogging over all of this.”
“And there just might be.”
Smolder had no idea what Gallus meant by that statement, nor why he was suddenly fluttering on ahead, but knew that it must have been something useful that had caught his eye. The dragon did the same, going for short hops that didn’t take a full wingspan to make. A pit started to form in her stomach when the griffon angled for a cargo delivery area that, judging by proximity to the market, led into Software and Games' warehouse. It only took her a second to figure out just what was going through his feathered head.
“Alright!” The dragon skidded to a stop. “I hope you’re not planning what I know you’re planning!”
Gallus casually leaned back against the brick wall next to the door with forelimbs crossed – as though he was just a bored yardmaster waiting for a late shipment to arrive. “How could you possibly know what I’m planning?”
Smolder played along, even though she already knew where things were headed. “Fine. What is your grand plan?”
He rolled his eyes and uncrossed a forelimb to point at the loading bay door. “See that? All we have to do raise it high enough to squeeze under, and we can sneak into the store.”
“Damn it, Gallus!” Smolder grabbed the limb and shoved it downward. “I want to get this system too, but I don’t want to spend my break behind bars either!”
“Relax,” he laughed. “The staff will be so busy tending to the masses that they won’t notice a few freaks popping in through the back. And if we are found out, which we won’t, It’s Ponyville! The worst they’d do is shout at us and kick us out.”
The dragon hissed. “Yeah, forever.”
“Whatchoo guys looking at?”
For a brief but tense moment, both parties thought they had been busted; that some random pony or store staffer had heard the half-baked plan in full, and would take off to fetch the local constabulary. But when they reflexively jerked their heads towards the interruption and realized that it was just Silverstream and Ocellus catching up to them. Despite the momentary fright, Smolder was still able to beat Gallus to the punch.
“Birdbrain here,” she pointed at the griffon who only scoffed and crossed his forelimbs a little tighter, “thinks that the best way to cut the line is by slipping through that door right there.”
Hippogriff and changeling both followed the claw over to the door that could offer a quick but illegal route into the store. Smolder hoped the two would also err on the side of caution and oppose any kind of intrusion, but the reality that had been dished out was the fact that it was the typically law-abiding Ocellus who first advocated for the just hatched plan.
“He’s probably right.”
The changeling watched the mass of creatures through the aperture of the alley entrance and based on what her analytical mind had taken in while flying over, the crowds had at least doubled. Her passive senses beyond the physical couldn’t discern accurate numbers, but thanks to ponies general camaraderie and herd mentality, she could strongly feel that most of the town’s population was out there.
“Trying for the main entrance at this time is an impossibility, and by the time things clear up, there won’t be anything worthwhile left.”
“Ocellus! You can’t be serious?!”
The changeling, either missing Smolder’s scolding outburst or ignoring it entirely, lightly trotted closer to the door and began to examine the locking mechanism. Finding nothing noteworthy about that apart from the fact that it was just a simple latch, she crouched down and peered through the small gap for any kind of alarm system, and listened for employees who could possibly be working inside. Her sense claimed that wasn’t the case, but It was good form to always cross-reference the other senses to be certain. She trotted back a second later and relayed her findings.
“The door has no lock that I can see, but even if they did it would do them no good with it cracked open like that. I wonder why that’s the case?”
“I can easily picture the scene,” Gallus sardonically remarked. “Store employees are rushing to get the latest shipment through the door and on shelves before the big sale, and the door gets left open. I’m surprised they haven’t suffered any break-ins already.”
“Same here, especially since they deal in expensive technology.”
Since simply hoping others would talk Gallus out of trespassing wasn’t working out, Smolder decided that she would have to step up and try to dissuade him. “Yeah, well, just because they haven’t been broken into yet doesn’t mean we need to be the first to try.”
“Come on, Smolder, It’łl be fine.” The griffon gestured towards Ocellus with talons held wide. “We’ve got our master of stealth guiding us through, what could possibly go wrong.”
“Gallus.” Smolder’s voice took on an edge. “This isn’t Griffonstone or Drakon, there are rules. We can’t just run around doing as we please!”
“Actually, it would be best if I went alone.”
“What!”
They both broke out into a singular protest at Ocellus’s suggestion, then just as quickly cowered down while looking out the alley entrance. They may have had fears of discovery, but with the gathering in the market only getting bigger and louder, there were no prying eyes and ears that cared about the happenings of a dark and cramped alley.
The changeling knew that what she was entertaining wasn’t some tabletop game or computer simulation. The truth was that there were many more variables than either of those could hope to provide – so many ways it could all go wrong. It was only her experience as a changeling that would guide her hoof, but even that was no guarantee. She wasn’t a top flite scout – just an exchange student in need of a new computer – who didn’t want those she cared deeply about to be sucked down with her should things end in failure.
Gallus was quick with a nonchalant response. “And let you take all the glory? I think you know by now that we don’t do solo acts. We may go separate ways on the day-to-day, but when we’re on the job we stick together. So yeah, we’re coming with you.”
Gallus’s statement was far from ideal given the situation. Followers meant extra noise and plenty of other undesirable issues, but she was well aware that they would just follow her regardless of her stance. The choice was to either let them go ahead in an unorganized mess or proceed with a plan. So she got her game face on.
After taking a smooth exhale and inhale, she addressed her entourage. “Alright, we’ll all go in, but this is serious business.” She then adopted a clipped, serious tone. “I need everybody to do exactly as I say when I say it. Like I stated before, I know the way around in there.”
If Gallus was surprised by Ocellus’s change in demeanor, he didn’t outwardly show it. Her business voice was something that started out a year or so back, and after a few heroic outings he and the others learned that she could be incredibly powerful when mind was put to matter. If she was confident in sneaking through the back, he was too.
It wasn’t the changeling he was most concerned about.
“What do you say, Smolder? Gonna sit pretty out here in the cold and violate a group principle, or you gonna be awesome and join in?”
The dragon didn’t want to take risks so brazenly, but it looked like the others didn’t share that sentiment. Ocellus seemed just as set on going through the back, and deep down she knew it was the only option to get in before the getting was gone. The only one who hadn’t really voiced an opinion on the matter was Silverstream, and Smolder tried to gauge the hippogriff’s expression. Unfortunately, the slack-beaked smile and unfocused eyes meant that she was just going to march right alongside them. There was nothing else really to do accept...
“Alright, alright, fine! I’ll join in, but mark my words Gallus, if we get busted and Ember skins me alive I’ll destroy you!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gallus pulled away from the wall and stood ready by the door, waving his left forelimb at it’s far side. “Ocellus, if you will?”
With a curt nod, she positioned herself on the opposite side and they both grabbed the bottom of the door and carefully inched it open. When it was believed to be high enough for them all to fit under, they both disappeared under the gap. With more trepidation, the bipedal dragon ducked under the door and the lanky hippogriff had to almost slither through the gap. The initial urge for those less apt at getting into places where they were undesired was to either bug out, or try to rush through as quickly as possible. But the expert leading them had different ideas.
“Stay where you are. Give your eyes time to adjust.”
It was a tense few seconds for Smolder to wait for things to brighten up, but when they did, they were met by the back end of an enclosed wagon. Smolder took note that it wasn’t a run of the mill design, with the defining feature being the large pneumatic rubber tires that came up to her waist.
“Over here.”
The diminutive call from the changeling would have been almost unhearable in any other situation, but with all senses heightened it was authoritative and true. The other three obeyed without fuss and snuck over to the right side of the wagon where Ocellus was hunkered down next to the front wheel. When she saw that her followers were present, she leaned out slightly and pointed across the warehouse.
“There’s a small break area off to our left by the service entrance. You can see it from around or under the cart. It’s the quickest way and we’re unlikely to run into anypony there during peak hours, but I don’t want to risk it. We’re better off taking the long way around and coming in from the right.”
The other three got into positions for viewing without being viewed in turn, each squinting through the rows of lightly stocked industrial shelves between them and the goal, and they could see a couch with several other furnishings that made a halfway decent rest spot. It was easily the best lit area of the warehouse, and it would have been stupid to try and cross it. The rest of the lighting was handled by incandescent bulbs hanging down from the rafters, but with all the shelving and stored boxes obscuring any employee’s view, it was relatively ineffective as a security measure.
“Now that we’re all on the same page, let’s get a move on.”
The low, but commanding whisper brought everyone away from trying to see across the warehouse, and into pace with Ocellus. The changeling led them deep into the warehouse, away from the storefront door and any extraneous light sources. Her movements were slow and measured, with eyes cast downward and every step calculated, as misstepping onto something that made noise could be problematic.
Gallus was for the most part able to mirror his guide’s movements. Being part feline meant that sneaking came as something akin to second nature, and spending some time living in the back alleys of Griffonstone had also honed such abilities as plenty of griffons didn’t take kindly to young vagabonds clawing through their trash and scraps, even though it was just that. He had been forced on several occasions to sneak away from bigger and faster griffons rather than risk outright confrontation. As he moved along in a semi-crouch, he was thankful that Sandbar – or worse – Yona, wasn’t trying to be sneaky alongside them.
Smolder wasn’t quite as attentive to the surroundings as she felt a greater need to keep an eye on Silverstream rather than the path ahead. It wasn’t that she lacked confidence in the hippogriff’s ability to stay focused when it came down to it, but with the stakes raised, she couldn’t be too cautious. One little outburst could spell disaster, but luckily the only time intervention was required was when she found a loose sheet of bubble wrap that was just begging to be popped.
Eventually, Ocellus got them all to the other side of the warehouse. The angle they would be going in at would be infinitely better, but it was still well lit. They remained in the cover of shadow, their guide not having moved for a few moments now. She stood straight, eyes unfocused and jaw set. Her lips curled and relaxed several times, and she mumbled unintelligibly. Then, her eyes jumped back into the world, and she whispered something that caused the whole group to plaster themselves against the floor.
“She’s coming!”
Smolder huffed. “Great, we're gonna get busted for sure.”
“Don’t worry. I got this.”
Before any questions could be raised about just what she meant, Ocellus shapeshifted into a large cardboard box with a rather reviled logo of a computer company printed on all visible sides. It almost matched the boxes on the shelf beside it, which was fully stocked with them.
“Line up behind me, close as possible.”
The other three listened to the box and huddled up behind her. It was just in time too, as the long shadows of an approaching pony darkened the floor ahead. The pony in question came to a stop in that open area, and was proven to be a unicorn when a flashlight spell was cast towards the cargo door. It was shone around all the bare shelves as the employee spoke into some kind of earpiece headset, but nobody could make hide nor hair of what was exchanged over the commotion in the store proper. They just assumed that she was simply taking inventory until the cone of light swung their way...
...and settled directly on their cover.
As soon as the box was illuminated, Gallus knew they had made a big misstep. With heart thudding against tense ribs, he realized taking cover next to the only stocked shelves in the place was probably the worst thing to do in that situation. They would no doubt want to move the merchandise to the front for sale – even if it was crap in his eyes. What other reason would they have to come back into storage?
Smolder was practically holding her breath now, having to swallow down an impulsive hiss a half-second prior. There was no way that pony could shine a light on them and not be suspicious. Silverstream was pressed up against her side, and the dragon could feel her quivering in anticipation. Not daring to even whisper, she wrapped her claws around her friend’s wrist, which calmed her slightly.
Almost as soon as it came upon them, the light moved up and away. Nobody relaxed though, as it had only moved to the top of the shelves. The unicorn examined the other boxes for a few more tense seconds, dynamically adjusting the focus to see to the end of the aisle, and then trotted back towards the main store – light spell clicking off in the process.
It took at least a minute for the gang to breathe easy, even though it felt so much longer.
“Alright,” Gallus gasped out. “I admit it. This was a stupid idea.”
Smolder responded with a dry, sarcastic chuckle. “Really? You’re coming to that conclusion now?”
“Come on guys, we can’t go back now.”
Silverstream was the first to break cover and attempt to finish the journey on her own, but Smolder had enough foresight to grab the hippogriff and keep her around for just a little longer.
“Silver is right.” Ocellus dropped her act and returned to normal. “We’re committed at this point and the door is right there.”
“Can you do your freaky mind-meld thing and make sure we don’t get busted the moment we walk in?”
She shook her head. “Sorry Gallus, but no, there’s too much interference. I was barely able to pick up on her intent, and that was after she separated from all the desperation... and anger.”
“So in other words, everybody is so wrapped up in their shopping that they wouldn’t notice a small group coming in from the back?”
“Well, yes, that would be the likely outcome. But-”
“Alright,” Smolder butted in. “As much as I would love to just sit here and plan, we’re in a bad spot. Can we just get on with it before they send another pony back here?”
Ready to move once again, they snuck the last bit of distance to the door, and then straightened up to pass through the door as casually as possible. Luckily, they weren’t stopped by any employees or security as feared.
That honor went to the insane scene before them.
If they had thought that the market square had been a circus, those ideas had been vanquished when they took stock of the shop floor. Shoppers of all shapes and sizes bumped and ground against one another in the confined space, trying their best to snag some sweet deals without losing their hauls to any opportunists. Just as Gallus had predicted, the staff were completely swamped by the numbers and had sequestered themselves near the cash register and entrance to check buyers out as swiftly as possible, and also try to prevent any items from walking out the door unchallenged.
The one thing that struck them the most, however, was the sheer amount of noise, with all the excited chatter coalescing into a steady roar that one of their number had to almost scream over to be heard.
“Okay!” Gallus got the other’s attention. “They’ve most likely already cleaned out the good stuff, but we can still find something if we move! Remember, the most basic of machines will do!”
With their instruction, the four dispersed into the crowd and began their hunt. Gallus and Silverstream both took to the sky, the former giving Smolder and Ocellus face fulls of feathers as he extended wings for takeoff.
“Gah! Watch your wings!” the dragon objected vehemently, but the griffon was already too far out to care.
Her eyes lingered on the veritable hurricane of flyers that massed in the center of the building, and she looked to her neighbor with concern.
“What’s your plan, O?! Stick with me?!”
“The mob is concentrated around the center!” the changeling pointed at the mass of flying bodies, then reached around her back to unzip her wings. “So I’ll most likely stick to the outside perimeter and look there!”
A brief look of uncertainty crossed Smolder’s face but was quick to become an affirming nod. “Alright! Just watch yourself, okay!”
“You know I will!”
As Ocellus began her patrol, Smolder realized that all her flying friends had opted to go on the hunt in the way they knew best, without any consideration for things that could only be spotted from the ground, such as boxes squirreled away on bottom shelves.
So she resolved to stick to the floor and waded into the fray.
Silverstream was the first to find something, and she deftly landed on her hind hooves with an unheard thud. She got her digits on a large box containing a tower pc as quickly as possible, but just as she was about to pull it off the shelf, someone more desperate than her came along from behind and used painful measures to secure the package.
The hippogriff wasn’t aware that her pants were riding low until she felt somebody grab the hem of her exposed thong and yank up on it sharply. She instantaneously doubled over in surprised pain as the fabric chafed harshly against her most sensitive areas, and was then roughly shoved aside by the random griffon that had just accosted her and fell to the floor as the prize was picked up and carried off.
The more technically minded Gallus had steered clear of the newer and higher-end stuff while searching in the air, dodging every other flier in the shop doing the same. He scanned over a shelf in the back corner where the open box and manufacturer refurbished machines were displayed and spotted something worthy of his time. As he glided down to see the listed specs and possibly pick it up, he was so tunnel-visioned on the text on the box that the obstruction ahead went unnoticed until much too late.
The griffon had just begun to make his approach when an unsuspecting helmeted colt who had been crouched down for some odd reason straightened up, oblivious to what was coming from above. He did his best to abort the landing by waving off to the right, but the inside of his still sensitive left thigh connected with the snowboarding helmet, the shock causing his wings to lock up and send him to the ground where he tumbled into a disparaged heap – the prize now a short hop away. The pain wasn’t of the same magnitude as earlier, so he still had a sense of his surroundings as he kept his back legs pinned together.
Through stinging eyes, he could see the colt that he had collided with shake his head in confusion, and when he saw the griffon laid out he galloped over smartly and extended a helping hoof.
“Holy crapola, dude! You okay?!”
Gallus took the hoof without question. In his current state, he was just glad to find a friendly face in the free-for-all.
“Yeah,” the griffon wheezed slightly. “I think I cracked my nuts on your helmet, though.”
His new pony friend laughed. “It’s a good thing I kept it on. Wouldn’t want griffon junk touching my mane directly. You should be more careful.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. What are you…? Hey! Wait!”
In a move that the street smart griffon should have seen coming, the pony went over to the shelf with the computer, got onto his hind legs, and hugged the giant box with his forehooves.
Gallus lunged at him, ready to fight over the computer, but a shot of searing pain caused his back legs to seize up and spasm, which gave the snowboarder just enough space to rapidly scoot away towards the checkout.
“No hard feelings, dude! No hard feelings!”
Gallus knew that there was no way he was going to catch him in his current state, so he decided to do what any griffon worth their salt would do in his position. He brought up his right talon – palm towards himself – and curled down the outer claws while leaving the center raised.
“Yeah, up yours too, buddy.”
Ocellus’s choice to take wing was more to avoid the stifling mob than anything else, but she was still committed to the objective. However, her small size and low flying speed made finding that replacement a hard grind. Every couple of seconds, she had to dodge clueless individuals who were too absorbed at the moment to care. If that wasn’t tiring enough, whenever an opening was spied around a product that would fit the bill, she was constantly beaten to the punch by everybody else keeping an eye out. It didn’t matter if she gently hovered down to quietly examine something, or raced full-tilt to beat the impending crush, she was unsuccessful at all turns.
Almost like clockwork another space opened, and she pounced. Driven by the actions and emotions surrounding her and a sprinkling of frustration she’d never admit to feeling, she darted down with all the thrust her buzzing wings could give. When the inevitable flock closed in once again, she pressed on instead of backing off. Despite them now being within wing touching distance, she kept pushing and was rewarded with the annoyed shouts and shrieks of those who had to split because she was now in their way.
She didn’t really recall seeing the pegasus on a direct collision course, nor her instant reaction of jerking upward and shooting for clearer skies, She did however feel her pastern smack against that pony’s flank, and was now rubbing the smarting injury while hovering away from the action. As she observed the destructive tornado descending upon yet another shelving unit like buzzards after rotting carrion, second thoughts about the whole operation crept into mind. The changeling truly needed a new computer and she wouldn’t allow herself to impose on Sandbar’s EDM for any longer than the weekend, but seeing the lengths the desperate shoppers were willing to go to for a deal – how far she and the gang were willing to go – soured the whole thing.
Clear on the other side of the store Ocellus saw the pegasus she’d just missed flying carefully along the far wall, shaking her head in disbelief while tucking up a most likely bruised hind leg to her body. Even though it was far from intentional, the changeling felt some remorse for the flyer whom used the same tactics as herself in the name of shopping. She was about to jump into the same boat and just call off the whole thing, when that pony dropped out of view for a second and came back up with a nice looking computer box in hoof.
That perked Ocellus back up for the time being. No, I’m not giving up yet. If she can get something out of this mess than I can too. Just gotta bide my time and wait for the next safe opportunity to arise.
“Move it, Dragon! That box is mine!”
Smolder didn’t have very much luck finding a suitable computer when she only had ponies and others roughly her size to deal with, but the arrival of some of her dragon schoolmates made things that much more challenging. Wherever she went, they would always be there first, filling their arms with the best deals that the section dedicated to dragon manufactured tech had on offer. Not only were they bigger than her, but they were immune to her normal attempts at assertion.
So she fell back on more dragonish means to achieve results. With a puffed out chest and intentionally lengthy strides, she did her best to forge a path through the belligerent crowd. This worked flawlessly for the first layer of the crowd, which was comprised of the youngest and smallest who quickly jumped out of her way as she marched past.
The next layer was the thickest, and much more difficult to squeeze through. These dragons were around her age, and only those of weaker wills moved to the side. But the others – who were the clear majority – remained unmoved by her aggressive displays. Nobody had tried to start a fistfight yet, but they were more than happy to voice their opinions with nasty hisses and growls.
But it was the final layer that gave Smolder pause, Sure, she could easily fit between the gaps and potentially get to the good stuff, but those dragons were big, with most around the size of Garble and a select few even bigger than that. And these weren’t a bunch of loudmouths trying to make up for their shortcomings. These guys were quite smart and knew how to get exactly what they wanted. Which is why Smolder was floored when one of those dragons sidestepped and created an opening.
Alarm bells began ringing in her mind, warning that things were not what they seemed. Big powerful dragons didn’t just give ground like that, it had to be taken by force. But the infamous dragon greed had descended, and she was now tunnel-visioned on the fine-looking box in view. Without any more logical thought, she charged in...
Only to be grabbed under the shoulders by that very same dragon and mercilessly lifted into the sky. She could feel a very hot waft of steam on the nape of her neck as he held her at head level and rumbled. “Sorry, little ember. This place is for big dragons only.”
There were no more parting words, only action as he deftly tossed the smaller dragon overhead and onto the lesser dragons, who were just as displeased as before – especially the ones she landed on. Their claws dug into her clothes, and many more sets joined in to carry her back to the beginning. Under lighter circumstances, the orange dragon would have loved to crowd surf like in the concerts that she’d sporadically watch on TV, but being tossed around after being called that name again sent her into a fit of thrashing limbs and gnashing teeth.
She was finally dropped into an unceremonious heap on the floor by the younglings. No real thought was given to them by their bigger kin, and they were wholly unprepared for a juvenile to crash down upon them. With the coveted item now out of sight and out of reach, the red mist faded away and she became aware of several scaly bodies scrambling out from under her.
On the other end of the shop, Yona and Sandbar had finally managed to get through the queue into the store, and both were dumbstruck at the sight. The colt’s lower jaw moved up and down slightly as he figured out which royal name to invoke, until his mind settled for the tried and true.
“Celestia!” he declared. “I’ve never seen this many creatures crammed into such a small space before!”
The yak’s appraisal was a little more metaphorical. “It’s like if ten yaks were forced to share five yak ger! Nothing good comes of it!”
Sandbar leaned his muzzle towards Yona’s ear. “Well, we’re in now! Best do what we came to do!”
With a whole mess of creatures ahead, and an entire horde behind constantly nudging them in, the two split off towards different parts of the store. Keeping an eye out for their other friends in the process.
Yona knew deep in her heart that the best systems came from her homeland, so going to the area with the machines she knew best felt like a good place to start. As she picked her way towards the YakardBell sign that hung from the ceiling, she noted that the visible shelves already looked quite barren. She didn’t spot many fellow yaks in the earlier stampede, and now at their intended destination, they were just as sparse as the section that catered to them.
Now directly under the sign, she could see that all the good stuff had truly been pilfered. What remained were utility components like replacement display and network cables and boring office software suites. Knowing a bust when she saw one, the yak huffed and turned away.
Then she spotted it.
A lone wooden crate was sitting in the middle of the floor, one that had been left unattended. She wondered why nobody had picked it up and moved it to the side, but when she saw through the crowd that the crate had the yak’s head logo of the greatest computer company in the world painted boldly on the side, she grinned and began pushing her way towards it. As she got closer, her trot turned to full gallop as others saw what she had, and began moving in as well. Not knowing of any other options to secure the system, the yak leaped into the air over several ponies’ heads and aimed to bellyflop onto the crate and smother it with her body.
Just as she was about to land, a blast of unicorn magic shot the crate out from under her and she slammed chin first onto the wooden floor. She then felt the hooves of several unicorn fillies run over her back, and as she struggled to her hooves, could see them gallop off towards the checkout – wooden crate spinning wildly in their combined telekinetic grasp.
But of the entire group, Sandbar had the worst luck by far. He watched helplessly as yet another box was taken from the shelf and to the cashier by its triumphant new owner. Sure, he tried to get in on that action as well, but no amount of excuse me’s or pardon me’s would disperse the crowd enough to get by. About five minutes had passed, and in that time he had managed by sheer luck to finagle his way into the center of one of the herds of deal hunting ponies who were using their numbers to force their way to the best items. The downside of being at the center was that he was at its whim, and as the collective moved to the next area he was forced to trot along with it.
It was at this halfway point that the colt realized that if he stayed within, he would never find a system. A few others had come to that conclusion as well and were instinctively forming a small herd of their own. It was the only chance for escape, so he threw in with the small group and they began to force their way out. It was an arduous task to go against the grain, but they had just enough ponypower to make it happen. Once free, Sandbar quickly bolted away from both herds and towards the center of the store, determined to not get stuck again.
After all their failed attempts at finding a decent system, the gang finally reconnected in the quiet back corner in varying states of dismay – physically and mentally.
When it came to the physical, Gallus was easily the worst off. His back was hunched and he once again moved with a pronounced limp. More telling was the fact that he wasn’t talking too much, opting to hang his head slightly and grimace instead. Words weren’t needed; empty talons told all.
And for the mental, Smolder took the proverbial cake. Getting so close, only to fall victim to greed and be tossed away by the bigger kin like yesterday’s trash had left her fuming over the situation.
“This is such bullcrap! We flew here as fast as we could – even broke the law getting in – and we still have nothing! That damn mob cleaned out the whole place, even the most basic of toasters is gone! And don’t get me started on those dragons!”
Silverstream was more frantic. “What are we gonna do! Everybody else is taking everything, and they’re being super mean about it too!”
“Same here!” Ocellus wholeheartedly agreed. “I couldn’t even get close to anything without risking serious injury!”
Her friends may have been on the verge of throwing in the towel, Yona was having none of that. “You may be done, but Yona not giving up! Yona is warrior! Keep looking!”
“Hey, guys!”
Sandbar frantically pointed a hoof towards an empty shelf. The other four besides Yona didn’t perk up too much initially, believing it to be pointless to try for something that would be snapped up by the time they reached it. But as shoppers in that particular area began to thin out, the lone box turned to its side and tucked into the back corner became visible. They also could see the pink sale sticker that had been carelessly slapped on its side.
Gallus lethargically began to examine the print on the box, then he suddenly and aggressively launched into the air despite the ache from a building list of injuries. The others capable of flight lifted off as quickly and those who weren’t galloped after him, hoping to make it in time to make a difference.
Even though he had just been nursing his ailments a second prior, pride and determination put any pain on the backburner. It was the last chance to get something meaningful for Ocellus, and he would be damned if he didn’t capitalize on it.
Gallus was the first to land and lay claws on the box, but a set of comically small blue hands attached to big burly arms had latched on as well and were almost successful in pulling it away. A pair of beady yellow eyes set into the face of a horned bull glared over the box, and the newcomer all but shouted.
“Let go! I got my hands on it first!”
Unwilling to lose out this time, the griffon allowed his claws to punch through the cardboard – giving him enough traction to pull it back towards himself. “Well, my claws are in it now, so I will be taking it!”
The minotaur’s massive nostrils flared, and a vein began to visibly pulse on his forehead. “Steel Power does not bend the knee to anyone!”
With knuckles and fingers turning white, Steel Power redoubled his efforts and yanked the box back into his broad chest. Thus began a tug of war between the two, with the coveted item moving back and forth multiple times. Despite holding on to the best of his ability, Gallus knew that he could only last so long in the duel with the naturally stronger minotaur before his muscles gave out. Even a fully grown griffon would have trouble in the situation he was in, so he felt no shame in asking for an assist.
“Yo dudes! Get over here and help me out!”
He only had to hold out a few more seconds before Silverstream skidded to a halt alongside and got her digits on it, but her manicured claws didn’t have nearly the same effect. Smolder was next to assist, squeezing between him and the shelf and punching her claws through the packaging.
The next to arrive on the scene were the groundbound Yona and Sandbar, and they both struggled to find the best positioning. The equine wanted to just jump in, but that would most likely entail grabbing onto Gallus in an unflattering way. They were as close as friends could get, but they weren’t that kind of close. He also didn’t want to be stuck behind or possibly under Yona if she stumbled backward. Personal injury ultimately superseded outward appearance, so he galloped over and grabbed Gallus around the waist and began to lend his strength.
Yona on the other hoof had no such questions as she got behind the others and tried to reach around them to get at the box, but it was just out of her grasp so she grabbed onto both Sandbar and Silverstream instead. Then something big and hairy latched onto her waist with large paws and started pulling as well.
With all his friends now there and helping, Gallus looked his opponent in the eye and grinned sneakily. “You gonna give up now or what?”
Steel Power was beginning to grow fatigued and he had to start stepping forward to keep hold. He glanced around nervously for something that could turn the tables, which he soon spotted.
“Guys! I need a little help over here!”
Just as Steel’s arms were about to give in, a stocky diamond dog ran, and a unicorn colt galloped in from across the store to save his day. The dog ducked under his friend’s arms and wrapped his own around the base of the box. The unicorn used his magic to grab the top, getting a full grasp on all four corners and pulling with all his might – just like everyone else.
“Let go!” Yona roared. “We need system so Ocellus can spell quest with us!”
The minotaur wasn’t having it. “Yeah, and I need this system so I won’t have to bug my uncle Iron about using his work rig to do my schoolwork and play my games!”
Silverstream was the next in line to object. “And Ocellus – nngh – needs it for that too! And she’s, like, a super genius!”
The bear poked her head up over her friends with a bashful yet toothy grin on her muzzle. “Oh, I’m nothing special really. Just your regular, everyday changeling-”
“Ocellus!” Smolder barked. “Do you want a – nngh – new computer or not! Help us!”
The bear looked down at her free forepaws and blushed furiously as she re-grabbed Yona around the waist and lent her strength once more.
For an everlasting few minutes, both sides struggled away in their bid to take home the last good system. As soon as one group started to gain the advantage, the other doubled down and took back the lost ground. But, that back-and-forth could only carry on for so long before somebody got smart and came up with a new plan of action.
The unicorn colt’s magic – the one thing that was keeping things even – began to ripple, and then flickered out of existence entirely. The colt who was casting fell backward onto his rump, and he looked genuinely fatigued. That didn’t stop him from hatching a new plan that didn’t involve his depleted reserves. It was of note that the infamous group they were currently fighting were so focused on the box that they had failed to notice the loss of the magical aura that surrounded it.
His buddies were the same way as well, which meant that he could clandestinely reach a hoof into his worn saddlebags and pull out a felt sack filled to the drawstring with marbles. He didn’t want to lose them to an instance like this, but it would be for a worthy cause.
Silverstream, just like everybody else, was toiling away to free the box. But after doing so for such a long time, her mind began to wander. Roving eyes followed suit, and she could see that the store had cleared out considerably. She could also see the unicorn empty a bag of marbles in her general direction.
There was only a split second for the hippogriff to gasp before they rolled over to the intended victims. Gallus was the closest one, so naturally he was the first to step on them. They were gaining ground again, and as the griffon took a pace back to keep up the pressure, several of the marbles got under the soles of his boots. Paws suddenly slid forward, and he fell – the claws that were sunk deep into the cardboard and underlying packing foam being the only thing keeping him from completely hitting the floor.
Smolder was the next to endure the slippery treatment. Keeping balance suddenly took precedence over monetary desires, and she relinquished her grip to keep upright. She cried out to her friends about the danger, but they were already contending with the new development. Silverstream, Sandbar, and Ocellus – who had to shift back into natural form due to fatigue – all suffered equally alongside the dragon but were able to stay upright and carry on.
Until they got under Yona’s hooves.
With their strongest member now out of the fight, the yak had become their lynchpin, providing most of the muscle and motivation for the team. That was why when she started slipping everything fell apart. With a startled yelp, she stumbled backward and instinctively squeezed onto her friends for stability. But with so much already going on, they could provide nothing in that regard.
It was too much. With the weight of an almost fully grown yak now pulling on them, the last sets of claws let loose and the entire gang was dragged backward. Ocellus was forced to dive for cover as five out of control friends careened into the one shelf that was still stocked with undesirable surplus office software, which instantly gave way to their combined force and toppled over with an almighty crash.
“I got it! Let’s get outta here!”
Gallus lifted his head and was able to get his vision refocused in time to see Steel Power and crew triumphantly gallop off to the checkout. The griffon had been beaten once again, except this time he wanted to get up off his ass, chase that minotaur down, and take back what was theirs. His body had other plans, and with the pain-hiding endorphins coursing through his veins withering away, the ache in the nether region made itself known again. This time, he knew that it would probably only get worse throughout the day.
There was a groan off to his left, and Smolder pushed herself into as much of a sitting position as possible a moment later.
“Can you get up? You’re on my leg.”
“I-I’ll try.”
It was a struggle for the blue griffon, but just as he started to drag himself off of the trapped limb the shelving unit creaked ominously, and it collapsed an instant later. Smolder hissed and he tried again, this time accepting a helping hoof from a winded Ocellus. She was able to gently help him off the pile and onto all fours, but he couldn’t move much further. His dragon friend was now free to swipe some boxes away and stand up. She immediately gasped at what her slitted eyes were now taking in.
“Did we do all that?”
The rest of the gang groaned collectively and began to extricate themselves from the mess. Both Sandbar and Silverstream had been lucky enough to have Yona break their falls, so they were quick to rise. Once they were clear, the yak waved away any offers of assistance and rolled to her hooves, the wreckage cracking and splintering all the way.
As soon as she was up, Silverstream launched herself at the scattering of marbles that had ended the shopping trip in disaster.
“Hey!” the angered hippogriff hollered into the air, a pile of captured marbles held in cupped claws. “You forgot your marbles, you cheating, sorry sacks… of…!”
Halfway through her screeching rant at the heavens, she noticed the intricate designs and stunning color of the marbles. The luster and clarity of the glass spheres was something to marvel at, and she couldn’t just leave the little pretties to the cruel world.
While the hippogriff stuffed her pockets with as many marbles as she could recover, Smolder set about straightening out her askew clothing. “It looks like we were the only ones who didn’t get something,” she muttered while tugging on her hoodie.
“Well, at least we tried.”
“Yeah,” the dragon agreed with the bedraggled sounding Ocellus. “At least we can say that.”
Everyone else also shared the same sentiment. After the insane struggle, they all felt defeated on some level – mentally and physically. Gallus was in the very same boat, but that didn’t stop him from still pursuing the goal.
“Come on! We can’t give up now! There’s gotta be something we missed!”
The griffon wasn’t comfortable with sustained flight after everything that had occurred, so he resigned himself to short hops on the wing as he frantically searched around for anything that could have been missed. The other five did the same, and with practically the whole store to themselves, they were able to appreciate the true scale of the destruction. The entire shop floor had been trashed. What was once organized shelves and bins was now a chaotic mass of smashed metal, cracked plastic, and splintered wood. Adding to that were the tattered remains of cardboard and other packing materials, strewn about like confetti along with with some cords and a few smaller electronic devices.
Silverstream screeched out that she had found something interesting and the gang all raced over with hope, only to groan and scoff at the sorry sight. The few years old laptop on the floor looked like it could have handled some light gaming, but with the damaged screen only hanging on by a thread and its guts spilling out of every opening imaginable, they were forced to write it off and move on. They weren’t able to find anything else of note, but Gallus wasn’t finished yet.
The griffon winged over to the front desk where the employees had all congregated for the majority of the chaos. Now that things had settled down, some of them were out and about, examining the trashed shop with looks of shock and disbelief on the faces of those who hadn't experienced something like that before. He was prepared to see the usual suspects which he'd interacted with on previous visits hanging around closer to their register, gabbing excitedly about the outcome of the sale, but he was a little surprised to see two burly stallions milling around the area as well.
It was hard to tell their identities through the usual method, but he hazarded a guess that the pale yellow, brown maned earth pony who was decked out in the thickly padded armor of an EHL goaltender was one of the hired hooves he'd seen while helping out with the apple harvest back in autumn, and that the dark gray, teal maned pegasus wearing the bog-standard stormball tack over his street clothes was on the weather patrol. Gallus wasn't in any kind of mental state to try and remember names, but it didn't take a genius bird to understand their role in the grand scheme of things, even though it was doubtful that no shoplifted goods made it past the pair.
He paid them no more heed, touching down by the desk and stalking up to it with purpose, not caring when they stopped counting their bits and uneasily eyed up his bedraggled appearance and intimidating posture. They had probably made a killing and greatly reduced their overhead, but they would most likely wind up investing most of it into simply repairing the damage and the leftovers would go into restocking. He was not a big fan of this strategy after being mired in it for the last half-hour, but he wasn't the one calling those shots.
“Hey!” the griffon addressed those who were. “You guys got anything that was kept out of the sale? I-”
As soon as the rest of the gang came to rest behind with varying concern, he realized that arguing his way to a system would only lead to disappointment for all, so he stuffed his emotions for the time being and took a breath.
“We're looking for a system or the individual parts to build one. Preferably stuff from the last five years at least.”
The older store manager took a break from counting bits to answer the potential customer’s question, but it wasn’t good news.
“Sorry son, but all the stuff out there was everything we had. If you’re truly desperate, we do have a surplus of Aquarius systems in the back. We could cut you a good deal on one.”
Gallus almost snarled when he heard the reviled name. He personally felt insulted that a retailer was still trying to sell those things let alone trying to cut a deal on them, but he was too frazzled at that point to raise a deserved fuss so his chose to end that particular interaction
“Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll try our luck elsewhere first.”
Chapter 5 - Merchants and Mixtapes
Chapter 5 - Merchants and Mixtapes
“Well that was a colossal waste of time!”
As soon as the gang had departed the warm but totaled Software and Games, Smolder threw her arms to the heavens and broadcast her exasperation to all within earshot. Apart from her immediate companions who all felt similarly on some level, the decently average sized crowd of Ponyvillians left over from the earlier scramble paid little mind to the outburst, with only those trotting by casting cursory glances before returning to their holiday business.
“Don't just blame yourself, Smolder,” Silverstream consoled the frustrated dragon. “I would have had one too if that nasty griffon hadn't wedgied me by my thong.”
“Guess I'm not the only one who took damage down there,” Gallus mused jokingly even though nobody was really in the mood for it. “Smashed my balls on some snowboarder punk's head while landing, and the little bastard screwed me out of the system I was going for. Nice one too.”
“Well Yona almost had best computer in store!”
“Was it a Yakard?” The griffon inquired sardonically, knowing full well of Yona's brand loyalty.
The yak huffed indignantly. “Of course it was Yakard! Yona want best system in world for Ocellus, but little fillies beat slow yak to the grog! Yak must train harder, get faster so she can crush-!”
“Guys, we aughta' take this someplace else,” Sandbar cautioned the group. “Ponies are really watching now.”
It was true. They were now being observed by several sets of eyes that coolly took in the procession of moody teens who were loitering on the steps of the possibly defunct computer store. Even though they were practically heroes to the townsfolk, a feeling of exposure couldn't be helped at that point. Having no further reason to hang around the joint and a desire to find a more secluded spot to sit down and hash things out, they took off into the market square.
The square wasn't too big, so it only took a moment to come across the next major business having a sale. Curiosity forced Silverstream to fly up to the glass and cup her talons against it. The others were more restrained and kept to the sidewalk even though they struggled to see through the darkened panes. An up close encounter wasn’t necessary to ascertain that the shop wasn't having problems with unruly customers – the silly song those inside were chanting about sharing and caring made damn sure of that.
“Ugh, us dragons have had that one crammed into our skulls so much that our heads will probably collectively explode on the next full listen, Can we please get a move on.”
To the benefit of Smolder's frayed nerves, the next few shops didn't have annoying choruses singing away their troubles within, but they did share calm and sedate presences. They just had regular old customers stopping in to chat with known shopkeepers and possibly buy something special for the occasion. Things got more lively at the next establishment, which was a true Ponyville institution.
As usual for a weekend holiday, there was a queue right out the door of Sugarcube Corner, and a few of the victorious deal hunters along with many of those who had lucked out could be spied waiting in line. Gallus craned his neck and bobbed his head several times, trying to possibly catch a glimpse of his new friend at one of the bistro style outdoor tables on the curb, but the elusive colt was nowhere to be found. Sandbar saw the griffon's interest and asked if they all wanted to pop in and drown their sorrows in cake and coca, but nobody could find any appetite for consolations at that point.
Beyond the bakery and on the far side of the greater town square, things were far quieter. They were entering what was usually described as the more artistic side of the town, where wide thoroughfares were flanked by rows of colorful domiciles and artisan shops that catered to many different types of clientele. While pretty much everything under the sun that was considered to be art was represented, almost all the businesses had shut their doors for the holiday. In warmer months, all it would take is a fifteen minute trot through the area to find street painters and poets, traveling minstrels and troubadours, and all other forms of entertainers practicing their respective talents, eager to please and possibly earn a few bits in the process.
Another staple of summertime in Ponyville was almost weekly live music from groups local and abroad. One of the smaller venues was a bandstand ringed by park benches just off the way, and the group decided that a deserted park was as good a place as ever to privately discuss the next action. The bandstand itself had been sealed up pretty good for the off season, so everyone chose to just sit on the closest benches to recuperate after the horrid ordeal. Gallus would have sat as well, but as soon as he tried dull pain lanced through his groin, so he stayed upright and in the least painful position.
“Well, Gallus?” Smolder fidgeted on her seat, trying to achieve some modicum of comfort. “Since you're kinda calling the shots here, what's the next step?”
The griffon knew that since he was the one to raise the suggestion of buying a brand new system for Ocellus, the status of leadership in the endeavor would be bestowed upon him until dictated otherwise. His friends would be looking to him mostly for advice and guidance, but what they didn't know was that going to the store and buying a new machine was as far ahead as he'd bothered to plan, and that he hadn't even entertained the possibility that things could work out so poorly.
It could be plainly seen that he and his friends had gotten nothing out of that chaos except some lumps and bruises, and the expressions worn by them revealed that they didn't think it was possible to find what was desired on such short notice. If Gallus couldn't provide that possibility outright, then he could at least try to keep morale up in the downtime.
“Don't give up dudes. Maybe a pawn shop or flea market will have what we're looking for...”
Smolder didn’t miss Gallus’s mild tone of disgust at his own suggestion. Nor did she miss his sidelong stare off into space.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
The griffon scoffed. “Because I’m not. Every time I’ve been to one, they’ve always tried to scam me into paying way more than the street value on items. All they really care about is jerking punters around and flipping stuff for the highest profits possible. And I’m willing to put up with that for Ocellus’s sake.”
The dragon completely understood where he was coming from, but she wanted to know if Ponyville even had places like that regardless. “Alright, let’s say that becomes our only option. Is there even anything around here remotely worth our time?”
He could only shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Alright then. Sandbar?”
The pony answered back, even though his input would go rather unvalued this time. “He’s right. Apart from where we just were, Ponyville is pretty dry when it comes to cutting-edge tech. There’s Barnyard Bargains, but all they really carry are farming supplies. Even if they had a working machine for sale, we wouldn’t be getting it for a bargain , that’s for sure.”
Smolder pressed on. “So, we’d have to try another town then?”
“Something like that, but the only other towns in the area are so small they don’t have mayors or even weather patrols. Ponyville’s all we got.”
“Then we’ll have to go further. Canterlot’s only a day’s train trip away. A chariot would cut travel down to a few hours tops, weather pending of course.”
While Sandbar and Smolder got down to loosely plotting their next move, Gallus mentally pulled back and kinda tuned them out, and not wanting to just stand around looking like an idiot, the griffon's restless legs took him on a tour of the area. The little pastel cottages and trinket shops of which many were closed up for the entire season, and the deserted streets fit his dejected mood and possibly served to perpetuate it further. He was well enough aware to stay within earshot, but he'd lost line of sight many paces back.
Then he came upon a business that, judging by the fresh tracks going into the shop and the lit up display was indeed open, and it was one that he knew rather fondly.
Speed of Sound was one of his favorite haunts, and it was really the only place in town that catered to all the needs of local music nerds like himself. He used to stop in all the time and buy new albums and mixtapes whenever funds allowed, and one of the store's regulars – one Vinyl Scratch – was really on the up-and-up when it came to the latest music and genres to hit the scene. After chatting it up with the mare several times, he ranked her as being pretty high up on the totem pole of coolness. Over the autumn and early winter seasons though, his visits had grown sporadic and it had been about a month since the last one. Studying for the semester finals along with the regular schoolwork kept him weighed down, but with those out of the way and the prospect of a few weeks time of freedom to do as was pleased, the itch had returned with a vengeance.
And it didn't hurt that they were also having a clearance sale just like everybody else.
Then he had a brief flash of doubt. After the bust that was shopping for Ocellus’s replacement system, he didn’t want to be seen as an insufferable jerk by spending bits on himself even though he had plenty to spare. Damn it! We were supposed to be heading back with empty pockets and a bitchin’ new system for O! Where did we go wrong?”
The more that thought nagged him the more he realized that he needed a break, they needed a break. The only chance of finding anything retail in Ponyville was the store they had just departed, and the establishment was going to need some serious renovations before selling again. In his mind, nothing more could be done that morning and it had been too long since he’d last hit the mixing deck.
“Yo Gallus! Where'd you fly off to?!”
The shout from a far-off Smolder snapped the griffon's attention away from the store and towards the airspace above the gazebo, where he easily spotted her form hovering above the rooftops. She pirouetted several times, trying to find the lost griffon, until Gallus decided to just make himself known with a sharp trill. She had heard that since she whipped her head around in the general direction and peered down into the town, but she seemed to still be struggling to locate him. He trilled again, and when she finally pinpointed him he waved a forelimb to signify that he'd definitely heard her.
“You called?” he asked with a hint of displeasure when she touched down in the middle of the street.
The dragon walked a few paces to the side of the road Gallus was on. “Uh huh. Sandbar and I were hatching a bit of a plan to get into Canterlot, then I noticed you missing. What are you doing way out here?”
The griffon didn’t bother correcting his slumped posture and melancholic demeanor. “Dunno. Wanderin’ I guess.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Gallus I know.”
“Hmph,” he callously waved his talon. “Sure.”
Smolder then took a few steps back and scrutinized the storefront she’d landed right in front of.
“What’s this place? I don’t think I’ve been here before.”
Gallus joined in on sizing up the little hole-in-the-wall shop. “Speed of Sound. It’s where I go to buy my music. After midterms I’d been meaning to stop in and make a new mixtape or two, but was never able to make it out this way until now.”
The dragon found a loose chunk of ice that had most likely fallen from the nearby roof and absentmindedly kicked it to the curb. “Yeah? And I was going to buy some nice gems and possibly a color TV, but now that we’re invested in other things I’ve had to put wants aside for Ocellus’s need.”
“And I’m right there with you,” he gasped out while stretching a rear leg. “But Smolder, we’ve barely had time to recover from our first attempt. We need a break, I need a break.”
“Are you kidding me?. We were all sitting around for like twenty minutes while you wandered around. You had your opportunity right there.”
“Do we have to argue?”
“I’m not arguing,” she grumbled. “Well, not yet. Just wondering what’s up with you is all?”
If Gallus hadn’t felt so lowly he would have taken more offence to the questioning, but he still didn’t disguise tempered annoyance “What do you mean what is up with me?”
“Well, from the moment we wake you’re practically shoving us out the door, dragging us through alleys and warehouses to get a new system, then after one tough break you don't want to take the next step forward. Seriously dude, what gives?”
A flame ignited within Gallus's azure eyes, and he chuckled darkly while pacing a bit. “What gives? What gives?”
He then rounded back upon Smolder. “What gives is that I've been beaten both mentally and physically today and I can't even begin to wrap my head around what the next step should be!”
“So you're just gonna give up and spend bits on yourself?!”
“I'm not giving up , Smolder! And I wasn’t planning to spend money on anything for myself, but you know what, maybe I should. Maybe after that shitshow I just want nothing more than to unwind, nurse my aches, and doing the one thing I'm great at is the best way to do so!”
While Smolder and Gallus’s discussion slowly morphed into an argument, the other four had finally caught up to them. Yona and Sandbar were in the lead, and they pensively watched the display of raised voices and exaggerated bodily movements, each hoping the other would step up and try to talk some sense into the bickering duo. Ocellus and Silverstream were bringing up the rear, and as soon as they stopped the hippogriff began nibbling impulsively on her claws while the changeling steeled herself.
They all wanted to help her so badly, especially Smolder and Gallus. But when things started getting hectic, the focus went from confident optimism in finding a new system to finding anything workable and taking it by any means necessary. Sneaking through the warehouse and betraying ponies’ trust wasn’t cool, and the reasoning for doing so at that time didn’t hold up to personal scrutiny now, especially since things truly went downhill after that point. Fighting through a storewide mob for a box of steel and plastic was not only not worth it to her in the long run, but totally went against the spirit of the holiday that they all should be celebrating.
That was why she resolved to put the computer hunting on ice right then and there – if not for the sake of herself and the occasion – then at least for the sake of her friends.
“Smolder? Gallus? If I may?”
The dragon and griffon had become so engrossed in one-upping each other that they had mostly forgotten about their audience until a wild changeling appeared and interjected herself directly between them and their argument. Ocellus capitalized on the momentary shock, taking center stage and getting her ball rolling before the shouting match could be resumed.
“I-I appreciate what you guys are doing for me, I truly do. But before my computer failed we all had something that we desired, a certain way we wanted to spend our bits and enjoy the holiday. I’m sure none of us ever envisioned spending it breaking into warehouses and fighting through mobs.”
She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her nose. “Honestly, I should have drawn the line then, but knowing and feeling how much helping me out made you happy pushed me into a state of inflated confidence. That’s why I wasn’t opposed to going through the warehouse or using my powers on that employee, and why I got this bruise on my leg too.”
The changeling gestured to her right hoof where an injury unnoticed by the rest of the gang was hidden under the parka sleeve.
“You both have wonderful Ideas for helping me get back in the saddle, but above that I just want all of my friends to get along and have a happy holiday. And quite frankly, after all that we’ve been through, I’d kinda like to not have to think about finding a system for the time being, and just let us be us.”
After Ocellus’s admission they didn’t feel like arguing anymore, but they were still openly glaring at one another. Usually that’s as far as any intervention would go for spats within the group, leaving those at-odds to sort things out the rest of the way, but today things would go a little further.
“Changeling right, you know. As yak, Yona understands passion, no passion strong as yak passion after all. Yona want to play game with full party too, but if friends keep blindly rushing around for new system and getting on each others nerves in process, what happens when replacement found? If everyone resentful and bitter then it’ll show out on battlefield. And what is point of gaming with friends if not on good terms?”
Gallus and Smolder had now cooled off to a point where more rational thought was possible, and they both could now see merit in Yona’s technified wisdom and Ocellus’s wishes.
“Fine. We’ll take a break for the time being, clear our minds of the whole thing and try to salvage the day. But mark my words, we’ll be picking up right where we left off later. We dragons may be slow in setting goals, but once the path is chosen we like to adhere to it. I’m sure you can understand that, Gallus.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I do. You hang out with Gilda long enough certain things filter down, y’know. But we can’t just keep ripping each other new ones each time things go south. Gotta take a deep breath and respec your mind sometimes. So? We good?”
With things settled between the two for the second time that morning, claws were shook and a certain tension that had been weighing the group down during the earlier mad dash faded away.
“Well, I don't know about you guys, but I need to do a little shopping at Carousel If you know what I'm saying.” Silverstream punched a fist into her open palm. “What do you say, Smolder? Wanna hit the boutique with me?!”
“Ahah,” Smolder laughed apprehensively. “I think I'll take a raincheck on that one. Maybe some other time.”
The hippogriff's face fell. “Aww shucks.” Then her expression perked back up. “Ocellus, do you want to be my shopping buddy? I'll carry you the whole way there, sans barrel rolls.”
Ocellus glanced down at her custom boots which were not only holding up quite well to the elements but had proven to be virtually soundless while sneaking, and shuffled her hooves slightly. “I don't really have any need to visit the boutique. It was fun last time for sure, but fashion isn't really my thing, soo...”
Silverstream looked to her third fourth and fifth potential shopping buddies for any inclination of them wanting to travel with her, but all she got were similar negative responses.
“Wow, really tough crowd,” she huffed, but was quick to simply move on. “Alrighty then, I’ll fly solo.”
Smolder grabbed the hippogriff by the forelimb to prevent an immediate takeoff without thought. “Hold up, hold up!”
“Oh! Did you change your mind!” the fixed in place friend excitedly inquired.
“No, no, I’ve already made up my mind. I just wanted to know if you know if its open? Rarity’s outta town along with her sister, and I can’t think of anyone she could easily rope into running it in her stead.”
“Hmm, I didn’t think of that,” Silver admitted. “Looks like I’m gonna find out!”
With that final proclamation, Smolder released Silverstream and the hippogriff immediately took flight, blasting a fine mist of snow all over the place as she powered up into the sky, then banked over the rooftops and out of sight.
“Alright, if anyone else wants to do their own shopping, this is the only chance you’ll get today.”
The statement from Smolder that felt more like a question forced those who remained to mull over what they truly wanted out of their holiday.
Sandbar was the quickest with his response. “I kinda wanted to get a new tank for my turtles, but the pet store is closed for the time being so I’m gonna sit on as many bits as possible until they open again.”
Nobody missed the pony’s emphasis on what he actually wanted to put his bits towards, but he wasn’t the only one waiting.
“Yona does have something worth looking for that may or may not be found in ponystore before us. Yak doubtful of device’s existence so far from homeland, but with store so close may as well look.”
“Glad to hear I’m not the only one interested in music here,” the griffon sighed happily. “What is it that you’re looking for? Because if it exists in Speed of Sound, I’ve most likely seen it.”
“Yona would gladly share details about what she’s looking for, but unlikely that nonyak friends would understand without viewing it for themselves.”
“Okay then, I won’t press.”
“What about you, Smolder?” Sandbar asked. “Ocellus says we all wanted something.”
“Well, I was going to look for a newer color TV to replace my aging set, and If I couldn’t find something within budget with a remote I would just spend a quarter of my coin on some nice gems and sit on the rest until I could. Lord, this whole talk about what we wanted business is making me feel like I’m a greedy dragon only looking out for her own interests, but I gotta ask...
“Ocellus? What is it that you were hoping to get out of this Hearth’s Warming?”
The changeling who had no problems asserting herself in order to reunify the group retreated into her hood slightly when the attention was focused upon her solely, but still found her voice nonetheless.
“I was… just gonna buy myself a replacement pair of boots so my hooves wouldn’t freeze, but then I gave these a try.”
She held up a hoof to show off the boot that was covering it, examining it with a look of restrained awe. “I don’t know what manner of magic Rarity imbued into these, but my hooves are the warmest they’ve ever been, so that problem has been solved by Silver’s early gift.”
“So it’s settled then. We crash here for an hour while Silver is out and Yona can try finding her thing. Sound good?”
The other four expressed their assent to Smolder in their own little ways. Gallus conveyed his by pushing the business door open and heading inside. The atmosphere inside the tiny shop was the polar opposite of the computer store. Instead of a doorway jam packed with bodies vying to get through, he was able to enter unchallenged. A closer look once the griffon’s eyes had adjusted revealed to him that besides the hazy blue stallion proprietor whom he’d had plenty of business with before, the store was perfectly empty. That lack of shoppers meant that the accompanying shouts and screams of them squabbling over who got what were absent as well, allowing the natural ambience of the shop and the soft jazz playing throughout to reach the griffon’s ears.
The others, who were at least curious to see what this particular shop had on offer followed after, the visitor bell chiming rapidly as the weary bunch followed through. The received the same stimuli as the griffon, but the added noise of group entry rousted the shopkeeper from a morning slump, and the earth stallion greeted his potential customers with a smile and wave.
“Gallus! I had a feeling that at least you would show up! How you been?”
Despite all the earlier debacles, the griffon still found it within himself to grin and shrug. “Alright, for the most part. You?”
The stallion with a cutie mark of two reversed quavers on the flanks leaned back in his desk chair and began working the kinks out of his neck. “Eh, same ol’ same ol’. Was hoping that having a storewide sale would spice things up, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
Gallus already knew what he wanted regardless of any markdowns, but the sight of all the untouched shelves left him a bit aloof. It was generally a popular store, and every time he had come in before there were always a few other customers poking around for new and interesting music. But today – during a sale no less – it was devoid of life.
It was something the music nerd quickly inquired about. “I saw that, but it looks like we’re the first to come in. Usually this joint is poppin’, what’s up with that?”
“Well,” he leaned forward and rested his hooves on the countertop. “Given that Software and Games just had its whatever-the-buck-it-is sale, I’m guessing that everypony blew their bits on a new computer. What’s the point of visiting here if you have no more coin to spend on music?”
A wry but pained grin graced Gallus’s beak. “We were there, dude, but we totally crapped out on everything. We needed another place out of the cold to crash for a bit, and I saw that it’s fifty percent off for mixtapes, so…”
That brought him back a bit. “Oh yeah, sure thing. Take all the time you need, take a look around. Maybe you’ll find something extra you want to trot away with?”
The griffon suppressed an irritated twitch that tried to travel down his tail from the well intentioned insinuation, not wanting to betray his thoughts even though he was among friends.
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
Gallus left Noteworthy to his own devices and headed deeper into the store. The other four, having already made up their minds to stay as long as the griffon did, ambled along behind him. Much like any other store, the place was filled with shelves of ts specified merchandise, with dedicated stands placed right out front which were loaded with the hottest new releases in the most modern formats. The era of both rolled back the further in they got, until they got down to equestrian classical music recorded on archaic wax cylinders.
The blue griffon bypassed all of that and disappeared into a space that was sectioned off from the rest by an office dividing wall. This little area had a small raised platform on one side, and the microphone stand sitting front and center confirmed Smolder’s suspicion of it being an incredibly cramped stage as did the amplifier stacks that hemmed in on either side. The other occupiers of the precious space – the machines that Gallus was interested in – were arranged in rows along half of the back wall, and all the way to the divider on the right.
He went up to one of the mixing and recording consoles – something that looked relatively modern – and began fiddling with its buttons and switches. Being well acquainted with that particular model meant that he was able to power it up and prep it for mixing quite efficiently. With that sorted, he put one of his newly acquired blank cassettes into the slot dedicated to dubbing. Then he scanned the large cassette shelf that hung above the station for artists and genres that fit his fancy.
Smolder knew that what Gallus was doing was similar to recording a movie in some respects. The obvious was the use of film in both mediums, and recording onto said film. Of course he wasn’t physically cutting and splicing together a masterpiece, but it was still enough to at least grab her interest.
“So basically, you’re picking out random songs you like, and recording them onto one tape?”
The griffon continued to cherry pick artists he was familiar with. This took a bit of time as these were sample tapes, with plain white written labels instead of any kind of artwork. Despite the atrocious scrawl that passed for text on the side of each box, he was able to produce a decent selection which was placed on a table next to the machine, positioned there for the sole purpose of holding such a pile like that.
“That pretty much sums it up, But it’s a bit more involved than that. The difference between a bad or good mixtape comes down to how good the mixer is – whether or not the track selection matches the intended theme and how clean any fade-ins or outs are – that sort of thing.”
The more Gallus rambled on about the ins and outs of mixing, the more disinterested Smolder grew until she bid the griffon adieu and went off to explore the rest of the shop, everyone else doing much the same. Based on what she had seen initially, Smolder hadn’t banked on becoming enthralled in anything, but a deeper look and a chance find changed that frame of mind.
I didn’t see this coming in.
She moved away from the stereos on display and into the aisle that had a shelving unit filled from floor to ceiling with television sets. Well, she had guessed it would be something like that by sound alone – even though they had the volumes set to respectable levels. There were at least twenty screens going on, and they were tuned to several different stations.
Most of what she saw was musical in nature, with performances and interviews of artists from every genre imaginable on blast. Interspersed were some advertisements for musical and audio equipment that were on a constant loop, and a few of the sets had some more popular television shows that she was much more familiar with, and some reality shows that she had no interest in whatsoever. The one with the two deadbeat colts who always failed hilariously at life could always draw chuckles from her and bellowing guffaws from Gallus, and the other one with the myopic cynical filly who thought and acted in stark contrast to the equestrian world around her that was all the rage at the moment.
That show was way further up her alley, but the episode was a rerun and the wall of overwhelming entertainment could only capture the attention of an adolescent mind for so long, so she eventually moved on to try and locate some friendly company. It only took a turn around the corner for Smolder to spy Ocellus browsing through the portable music players on sale, and once close she almost gasped at the price of one of the models.
“Is that for real?”
Ocellus paused her hoofing through the plastic packaged players and grinned Smolder's way. “Sure is. Seeing as I might be without a computer for some time, I figured it would be prudent to find some other ways to entertain myself.”
Smolder pulled one of the discounted players that had caught her eye off the rack and looked it over. The body of the blaze orange player almost matched her own scales, and a purple, crystal dragon skull graphic adorned the back.
“This is more Gallus’s thing, but I don’t need him to tell me what a sweet deal this is.”
“I know, right. And for a Memarex too.”
The dragon decided to hold onto the one she had just picked out, and provided they didn’t mysteriously find a computer for sale, resolved to buy it on the way out. Looking through the rack further revealed that all the players hanging there were the same model, but every one had a custom design.
“Isn't this so much better, Smolder? A nice, relaxed holiday shopping trip among friends. Sure beats fighting everyone in town over towers of metal and plastic, that's for sure.”
Once again, the dragon's thoughts about the current dilemma came back around. Except this time her friend's words rung truer than ever and she couldn't help but agree.
“Yeah, I get ya'. But this problem will be solved at some point in the near future, mark my words.”
Ocellus gave her a coy grin. “Oh, I don't doubt that. We always do.”
The changeling continued to browse the selection, until hooves parting the little packages revealed something attention grabbing. “Look at this one.”
She held up one that was a stunning metallic teal color which was close to matching the hooves that held it. It may have been very simple in relation to some of the more wild or intricate designs, but that only served to bolster the practical changeling’s affinity towards it.
“I’m totally gonna get it.”
Smolder was about to head over to the neighboring shelf for a pair of decent headphones when she spotted the player with the lime green sea turtle livery, and she knew exactly who would go for that one.
“Hey! Sandbar!”
Smolder got up on the tips of her toes and scanned over top the shelves for her pony compatriot and spotted a pair of mammalian ears loitering by the studio. The started rhythmically bouncing as the pony they were attached to trotted her way, and he popped around the corner a few moments later.
“What’s up, guys?” he asked, but any further inquiry was silenced when he saw what the fuss was all about. “Oh… wow. I’ve never seen players like these on sale like this before.”
“Yeah,” the dragon concurred. “And I found the perfect one for you.”
Smolder handed a plastic encased package over to him, and when he saw the paint job he chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Sea turtle, huh? However did you guess?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she teased. “Maybe because it’s on practically everything you own.”
“Alright, you got me there.”
They both were startled when the storefront door whipped open, the little bell peeling out in protest as a careless body plowed through. The bundle of excitement who was now back from a solo shopping trip touched down by the growing group, a plastic baggie bulging with Sugarcube Corner goodies in one set of talons and a styrofoam cup in the other.
“Wow!” The hippogriff exclaimed just as the door gently shut and sealed out the cold again. “You wouldn’t believe how crazy it is out there! You’d think everyone would have blown their holiday bits by now, but no! Creatures are still zipping around without a care, including me! And the boutique was closed thanks for asking!”
Not wanting to go any further down that particular route, Smolder deflected by pointing at the bag. “I see you at least found something to buy.”
She looked down at the bag and smiled. “I was hungry, they were selling, so I grabbed a bag of sweets for the gang and a nice cappuccino for me!”
“Cappuccino?” the dragon’s claws went to her hips. “I thought you weren’t supposed to have that much caffeine.”
The hippogriff took mild offence and defended her choice. “Whaat! I was a little tired after the computer store so I got something to juice me up. I drink responsibly doncha know.”
Silverstream took the extra long straw into her beak and loudly sucked down the last remnants of the espresso drink, tipping the cup to get right down at the last dregs of caffeinated goodness.
“Yeah, about those sweets?”
Silverstream glanced a rather wild looking avian eye at the pony who had plodded over and held out the bag while still sucking away. Not intimidated in the slightest, Sandbar hoofed through the treats for something agreeable, and pulled out a thick butter pecan cookie in a paper half-sleeve.
After getting nothing but gurgling air up the straw for some time, the hippogriff spat out the straw and inhaled deeply. “Ahhh, that hits the spot! Woo!”
Smolder wasn’t all that big on sweets, but she still reached into the bag.
“Where’d Yona and Gallus go?”
“Gallus is still working on his mixtape in the back studio. Yona is… I dunno,” the dragon mumbled while clawing through Silverstream’s bag and settling on some kind of biscuit thing with rainbow sprinkles.
“Ocellus?”
The changeling in question poked her head out from behind the shelf and trotted over. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
The bag was offered to her, and she graciously peeked inside. Her face than fell slightly. “Oh, you didn’t...”
“I totally did!”
She pulled out what was easily the most decadent of the treats in the bag. Opening the small protective container revealed a honey filled éclair, topped with an electric blue frosting and sprinkled over with a generous amount of rock candy. The changeling knew that the pastry was one of the more pricey items on the menu, and if given the choice she would have preferred something more economical – especially if it was a gift from a friend.
“Silver, you didn’t have to spend fifteen bits on me.”
“I know, I know, but I was trying to figure out what everyone liked and I remembered that you loved the blue blitz, so I got that for you.”
“Okay, well, thanks.” Ocellus surreptitiously licked one of her cute little fangs. I’m gonna enjoy this!
“Yona found it! Yak actually found it!”
Thunderous hooves pounded in time with the shouts as the yak galloped out of the vintage section and slalomed around some freestanding racks, skidding to a stop right before her friends. They were instantly taken aback by the bulky stitched leather harness she now wore over her dress, which resembled something agricultural equipment would be hitched to rather than any kind of music player. At any rate it raised many questions that were of a similar vein.
“Alright. I guess I’ll be the first to ask.” Smolder jabbed a claw her way. “What is that?”
“This is Yakard-Bell WonderRecord portable music station.” Yona gestured proudly at the device. “Yak always wanted music on the go, but collection of Yakistani folk music is only on vinyl. With new player that does both, Yona can now hear ballads from homeland anywhere!”
“And that’s considered portable? ”
She turned to reveal the record turntable that was literally strapped to her body, hanging over her right side like a regular saddlebag. It was pretty well obscured by its holster and all that they could see between the gaps around the various brass switches and dials was that its steel body was painted a mossy green. The central, exposed area was where all the action took place, and a miniature axe head acted as both a dust cover and retainer for the record and arm when in its current vertical orientation.
“Yep! Yona have no trouble carrying player around thanks to back harness. And player doesn’t just play vinyl.”
Yona reached back and unsnapped two flaps in opposing corners. Behind flap number one was an old-school analog AM/FM radio that would have looked more at home as a stereo head unit in some classic private airship or personal carriage than crammed into the corner of a portable device like it was. Sprouting out just above it was a long, flexible antenna that reached several hooflengths into the sky for extra reception in mountainous terrain.
And behind flap number two was a full fledged cassette deck that looked just as dated, with a standard opening tray mechanism and a row of polished buttons just below it. And below that was a slot for the older eight and four-track form factors with its own set of similar controls.
Despite its apparent age, Smolder was shocked by the feature-rich player’s many party tricks. “Wow, they really packed that thing to the gills with options. You yaks sure know how to make incredible tech.”
Yona grinned, eyes playful. “Don’t you mean best tech?”
“Hmph. Something like that.”
“Speaking of big things,” Silverstream set her empty cup on the ground for the time being and reached into the bottom of the bag for the biggest item in there. “I got you a pie.”
The apple cider crust pie contained within a covered tin was a little something the Cakes had cooked up recently to take advantage of expanding clientele. It was inspired by a Yak dish that used an incredibly potent ale in the recipe, but due to high importation costs and equestrian alcohol laws they had to make due with locally available ingredients. It wasn’t a real hit with yak students when they first rolled it out, but once Professor Pie explained the situation to a few yaks who in turn carried the news to many more, they started warming up to the imitation of the original. It hadn’t fared all too well on the flight over, with whipped cream smeared all over the clear plastic lid, but that wouldn’t faze Yona in the slightest. The yak greedily relieved her talons of it and started to scarf it down.
“Try to tone down the crumbs a bit Yona,” Smolder cautioned. “We already had a claw in trashing one store, no need to do it to another.”
Yona did slow down in eating the fresh pie, and even used the tin as a crumb catcher of sorts while browsing for a pair of headphones to go with her monstrosity. She shoved a half eaten slice into her maw and picked up a set of massive studio monitors that would look absurdly bulky on the average head but would probably look right at home over a yak’s ears.
Since none of the vanity players the other four were looking at shipped with headphones, they also took to finding something up their individual alleys. Smolder was okay with the color scheme of her chosen device but didn’t want to be seen with anything too outlandish or vibrant over her head, so she went with some entry level cans from a reputable brand that wouldn’t stand out.
Sandbar and Ocellus were much less picky when it came to quality or appearance, and made decisions based around what simply looked and felt right. The pony was done looking the moment he found ones that resembled turtle shells, and the changeling felt the same once she found a pair with heart shaped drivers.
Their hyperactive compatriot wasn’t having nearly as good of a time shopping. Silverstream had been out of the loop for a bit and wanted to get back in, but In her caffeine addled state she couldn’t make a concise decision on which Memarex to get. She bounced between the shelves looking for items that fit the bill and would meld together nicely, constantly weighing the options. Her chosen pair of seashell headphones were found first, and the closest match to them was a solid chrome purple player that was a little more expensive.
After picking out their gifts for themselves, the five hung out just outside the recording station, chatting amongst themselves until they heard shuffling movement on the other side of the divider, and Gallus emerged from the opening a minute later with the fruits of his labor stuffed into the bulging front pockets of his hoodie.
“Alright, I’m finished.”
He was at Silverstream’s bag in the next moment, plunging his claws in. “And it looks like leftovers for me.”
He produced a plain chocolate brownie, and proceeded to the checkout while undoing the cellophane wrapper. Of course Noteworthy had nodded back off at some point, so when the griffon got there he bit a corner off the brownie and rapidly tapped the plunger on the desk service bell in as irritating of a fashion as possible.
“Huh?! What?! What?!”
“You’re sleeping on the job, man!”
“Oh, I-Its just you.” Noteworthy stated through a yawn. “I swore you just went back in there only a moment ago.”
“Nah,” Gallus checked the time. “Took about an hour. Anyway… five for two bits?”
Gallus laid out around twenty cased cassettes on the counter and got his debit card ready as Noteworthy picked up his hoofheld scanner and started running up the bill.
Once Gallus was finished purchasing his cassettes everyone else started stacking the counter high with their players and headphones, and he carefully scanned through those items with affirmative beeps. While he accepted their differing forms of payment, Yona relieved herself of the almost nonexistent burden of her chosen player and dropped it unceremoniously onto the checkout.
The moment the mass of leather straps and steel thudded against the table, the lethargy within the shopkeeper’s whole being evaporated into a fit of foalish glee at the sight.
“Finally! I told Vinyl I’d get a buyer for it this time!”
Always prideful whenever she saw her nation’s tech getting the respect it was due, Yona pushed out the only question on her mind at that point. “How long has ponystore had WonderRecord for?”
The stallion was super stoked about talking about the oddity, and the griffon wasn’t complaining in the slightest. He himself had a muted interest in the device, and didn’t mind a little history lesson if it meant weeding out why It was marked down so much. Let them talk, Gruff always said. They’ll let something slip eventually .
The purchaser of the antiquated device blew a stray hair out of her face. “Yona have no need for testing. Yak music players never stop-”
A silencing set of claws wrapped around her muzzle and pushed her head away. “Actually,” Gallus butted in. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Without missing a beat, Noteworthy carefully unfolded the harness and arranged it so the turntable was flat as possible. He then trotted over to the much more advanced audio setup that powered the store’s sound system and removed a twelve-inch vinyl record from the high-end turntable that topped the stack – the slow beat jazz cutting off abruptly. With record in hoof, he opened the top of the WonderRecord and gently set it down on the spindle, using equal care to set the specialized arm and close things up after.
Ducking under the counter for a second, he came back up with a set of portable stereo speakers and plugged them into the larger quarter inch jack. Then the power button was depressed…
Gallus felt the corner of his beak curl up slightly as Noteworthy struggled with the button for a second time. His sneer was then met with a sheepish smile.
“Forgot to turn the power on.”
The saddlebag opposing the player contained a proprietary battery that should have lost it’s viability decades ago, but when the large brass mechanical switch was twisted a dusty green diode lit up on both the battery and the machine, proving that it was quite functional. Of course, that was only one component of an entire system, and Gallus still kept watchful eyes on everything.
When the power button was depressed this time, the griffon heard the telltale buzz of the internal amplifiers and preamplifiers warming up to meet an impending need for their guidance. He briefly wondered what method was used for the amplification, then he saw the little vacuum tubes ringing the interior of the turntable steadily increasing in orange luminosity until everything was dimly lit, which could potentially serve a dual purpose of assisting operation in low light conditions. These were the first indicators of functionality, but that was all moot if it couldn’t actually play the record. A few adjustments to some dials for the RPM and size were made, and play was pressed.
They all watched with varying states of attention as the visible portions of the record began to spin, the trademark sounds of static from the analog medium popping through the speakers. Then an upbeat jazz number started up and eclipsed all else. The excited beat of some healthy drums backed up a big brass section demonstrated that the old device could still boogie despite its age.
The floor beneath suddenly started to shake as Yona started stomping away to the beat. Gallus paid little mind to Noteworthy’s panicked expression as the shopkeeper struggled to keep things from flying off his counter, or Smolder and Sandbar’s attempts to get Yona to stop or at least corral her away from anything fragile. His attention was reserved for the player that despite visibly bouncing off the surface never skipped a beat. Any other turntable would have most likely suffered a broken needle or drive belt slippage at the very least, but this crazy yak creation kept on spinning without a single fuss.
When the others got Yona under control and back with the group, Noteworthy got his wits back about himself and quickly powered off the device. Gallus himself didn’t have much to say initially as he was still staring down at Yona’s player, but with reverence and awe instead of scorn and skepticism.
“Alright,” Gallus stated methodically. “That thing is impressive.”
Yona didn’t share the same enthusiasm for that particular aspect of the device, finding it elsewhere. “Of course yakmade player survives yak stomp test, no other could. How much gold pony want? By gold Yona mean bits of course.”
The blue stallion looked confused after the yak had firstly offered gold in exchange, but once the currency was clarified, he shifted things around in search of the barcode sticker he was certain of slapping onto it at some point. “Did I not tag this?”
He picked the entire mass up to see if had possibly been placed towards the inside of the harness, but nothing of the sort could be found and set it all back down. “Oh well, looks like I gotta do things the old way. I believe I marked it down to six, no, fifty for the sale, but I’m willing to part with it for… forty bits.”
“Thirty.”
Gallus usually didn’t invest himself in how his friends spent their bits, letting them make their own life decisions. But with the player having grabbed his attention and Noteworthy having said some key words, he felt like exercising his hustle and seeing if he could work a sweeter deal. The shopkeeper wasn’t too bad himself, and chose to try meeting in the middle.
“Thirty-five?”
The griffon rubbed the underside of his beak in contemplation. He was still weary of the ridiculously low price for a boutique item, but he knew the seller well enough to trust that there was nothing foul at play. He then turned to the actual customer.
“What do you think, Yona? That sound fair?”
“Yona would gladly pay double for that! Yak is down!”
Just as quickly as his ego after a good haggling had inflated, the tack was brought to the metaphorical balloon and Gallus smacked his palm against his forehead. And things were just starting to go well again...
Chapter 6 - Shops and Packing ( Part 1/3 )
Author's Note
am sorry for the longest wait time for an update but as you all know 2020 to 2022 were one hell of a time to be alive in the world. so by overdo here's your update!
Chapter 6 - Shops and Packing ( Part 1/3 )
Chapter 6 - Shops and Packing
After resting their minds for an hour or so in Speed of Sound and enjoying a small brunch of Sugarcube Corner sweets, the gang found themselves in better spirits. They engaged in the usual chit-chat while meandering back towards the academy through Ponyville’s tight backstreets. This time, the discussion was focused mostly on two topics.
One was the music players they’d collectively purchased. It felt good to actually get something for Hearth’s Warming, and no time was wasted in unpacking the devices and giving them all test runs with some of Gallus’s newly dubbed mixtapes, which he happily doled out. The exception was Yona, who had passed on those in favor of fiddling with her device’s radio tuner. After twisting the tuning knob for a good minute or so, she was able to pick up the local top forty station and trot along happily to that, the massive antenna bouncing and swaying to her beat.
Smolder was content with only listening to a song or two before doffing her headphones and opening her ears to the environment, with Ocellus following suit shortly after. Sandbar was more agreeable to the ambient tape he’d gotten, and he kept the volume low in order to converse easily. Silverstream’s attitude was the opposite, with the twitchy hippogriff only able to tolerate a minute or so of a mixtape before plucking it out and brusquely demanding another.
Gallus was certainly no stranger to Silverstream’s exuberance, but with an added dose of caffeine in that mixture, she started slowly inching beyond the griffon’s threshold of tolerance. He still entertained her wishes though, passing her new tapes as though they were chocolate bars while she shuffled backwards without a care. By some luck, she hadn’t tripped over anything yet, and it was her griffon friend’s hope that she’d be able to hold off her inevitable crash until after they’d solved the Ocellus problem.
The griffon himself was listening to his pièce de résistance , a glorious mix of soft synth and electric guitar pieces which he jammed to until his slow jig brought him to the neighborhood where Sandbar lived. Just as he’d hoped – and known – taking an hour off of the hunt allowed him to settle his frayed nerves and he was now ready to resume the chase. He was certain that the town wasn’t tapped out for opportunities yet, they just had to dig a little deeper.
“Well? What are we gonna do now?”
To Gallus’s chagrin, Silverstream had grown tired of the last remaining tape and now wanted to strike up a conversation. She may have not been the most approachable at that time but she was right to broach the subject. Since the griffon knew that she wasn’t the only one with such concerns in mind he spun on his heel to address his friends as a whole.
“We’re going to find a way to get Ocellus back in the game, that’s what.”
“But Gallus,” Sandbar almost whined. “There’s literally nothing out here. We need a city.”
Gallus knew that the rest of the gang had benefited from the break as well and were ready to go again, but there was still an obvious rift in beliefs on how to proceed. Knowing that getting huffy over such matters again would get him nowhere, the griffon took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his beak.
“Alright, I know earlier we weren’t at our best…”
Even though any hard feelings had long since fizzled out, the rest of the gang still collectively groaned at their failings.The reminder also served to flare up any aches they’d been nursing since then.
“But that was then. Now, we could just pack it in. Go back to our cozy little dorns and bide our time until break ends and things get back to normal. But by the time that happens we’ll be so far behind the other players that we’ll never be able to catch up. Or, we bird up, forget about our little setback, and carry on.”
“But carry on where?” Smolder inquired while crossing her arms. “We can’t keep running around Ponyville when there’s nothing here.”
Gallus waved a claw, trying to dispel any more doubt from cropping up. “Yeah, I’m well aware of that. What I do know is that we still have three options here. The local pawn shop, Barnyard Bargains, or a repair shop.”
Smolder perked up at that last suggestion. She considered herself to be knowledgeable of the many shops and businesses that dotted the town, but she was still drawing a blank even after several hours to dwell on things. But she did know of someone who’d have a better grasp of such places.
“Do you know of any good ones, Gallus? ’Cuz I sure don’t.”
His answer didn’t help matters much. “Not off the top of my head, no. But they are bound to exist seeing as most of the low-level infrastructure I’ve seen around here uses gem tech and it's all old to boot. There’s gotta be someone that repairs it all and they could be our ticket.”
Smolder still held to her skepticism. “And what happens when those turn out dry? And how do we know any of these places are even open?”
“That’s what I want to find out,” Gallus carried on unabated. “And the only way to do that is to get to Sandbar’s place since that’s close or hit up a phone booth, whichever comes first.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if my place is the best place for this…”
Sandbar’s reedy tone, along with the hoof he was awkwardly rubbing into the back of his head, told Gallus that there was going to be some kind of hangup with the latest evolution of the plan. He had no clue as to what that could possibly be. Sandbar’s family were the most chill ponies the griffon had ever met, surely they wouldn’t mind letting them hang around for a few minutes to hunt down some information.
“Why not? I’m sure your folks wouldn’t mind us using their phonebook.”
“Oh no,” Sandbar shook his head, which dispelled Gallus’s brief concern. “They’d be cool with that. It’s just that baby sis… kinda ate it.”
The griffon’s concern came flying back with a vengeance, but for different reasons. “Really? Your sis ate it?”
“Y-yeah, wouldn’t you know,” Sandbar chuckled. “No idea how, though. Usually we catch her nibbling on the rug or something.”
Gallus couldn’t hide his skepticism at that one, having spun a few tall tales himself. But he’d met that crazy little tot and that lent him a little leeway in the belief department. Still...
“You’re telling me that a filly who comfortably fits into the crook of my elbow, ate an entire phonebook?”
All Sandbar could do was shrug. “Pretty much, Been waiting for next year’s issue ever since.”
Gallus was going to complain about another wrench in the plan, but since the town itself operated a small network of public phones that could be accessed with relative ease, he thought better and chose to just forge ahead.
“Alrighty then, where’s the nearest payphone?”
Sandbar pointed the gang in the right direction, and it wasn’t that much more of a hike before a booth made itself known. As soon as that utilitarian gray box came into his view, Gallus happily took wing, having recovered enough after earlier shenanigans to do so. Silverstream followed on impulse as well, and soon both were landing on a street corner which was like most others they’d passed, save for a single story business called Big Buck’s Beepers which was closed for the holiday.
Gallus was all business the moment his feet touched ground. He stalked up to the booth with a predatory bounce in his step and all but bashed the accordion door open enough to slip inside. The interior was… surprisingly spacious for its intended purpose, and if he’d spared more thought he may have come to the realization that Ponyville had many draft mares and stallions who would need something that suited their sizes as well as the common pony. But, with solutions to problems before him, he paid such things no mind.
Let’s see here.
He didn’t bother with the phone itself, not yet. Instead, he wrapped his talons around the spine of a slightly tarnished book that was stowed in a cubby and pulled it out. He opened it directly to the yellow pages and started pawing through them, finding contact information for Everfree Outpost, the local pawn shop, and Barnyard Bargains. With those pages of note earmarked, he continued through the rest in search of repair services. It didn’t take long to start picking them out from everything else, and he recited each one in turn.
“Repair for toilets. Home repair and remodeling. Repair for toys. Repair for heaters and air conditioning… Hey! Watch it!”
Gallus grunted in displeasure when Silverstream imposed herself into his search by squeezing into the booth with him. Curious eyes stared at the open book in his talons for nary a second before she squealed in delight.
“Wow! Lookit all the little thingies Ponyville has! We’ll get Ocellus fixed up for sure!”
“Yeah,” the griffon chuckled lightly. “And it would be a lot easier if I had a bit of elbow room.”
Silverstream had known Gallus long enough to take that hint. “Right! Claustrophobia! Sorry!”
The hippogriff pulled back out of her friend’s space, but talons which grasped her sleeve stopped her.
“Actually, got a pad and a pen on ya?”
“Oh! Like you wouldn’t believe!”
Silverstream delved into her satchel and produced a coil bound sketchbook that looked fit to fall apart.
“There you are,” the burgeoning artist chirped. “Should be some empty space in the back of that one. Don’t mind the crazier drawings, that’s just my big imagination going wild.”
Gallus had opened the little pad to a page of concentric circles, and quickly flipped ahead to a blank page before his eyes got too boggled. He was going to ask for that pen again, but the utensil was easily found clipped to the binding. With the phonebook opened to his first earmark – and the odd tipped calligraphy pen held in the correct grasp after a quick pointer from his companion – he resumed his task.
“Ah, I found it!”
About a minute or so into scratching out numbers and addresses Gallus had located the correct kind of repair service, which he gestured towards with the back of the pen. “See? Repair for all general electronics including gem tech! We’re in business if we go to these guys.”
It was then that the rest of the gang arrived on the scene. Sandbar and Ocellus trotted right up to the open door, but were reserved enough to only stick their heads in to discuss things while Gallus had a phone tucked into the crook of his neck. Smolder was a different story. She regarded the booth with suspicion and held an arm out in front of Yona to keep the yak away.
“Why dragon scared? Why keep Yona back?”
“I’m not scared.” Smolder shook her head and chuckled. “It’s just that in all the movies and shows I’ve seen, phone booths are what either whisks creatures into other dimensions or drags them off on zany adventures through time. Neither of which I am interested in right now.”
Yona gingerly nudged the dragon’s shoulder, almost knocking her off her feet. “Bah! Moving pictures tell lies. No need for worry.”
With a roll of her eyes at the unintentional jab to her hobby, Smolder crossed her arms. “That’s what I like to tell myself. But given our track record, I can't be too sure.”
“Alright! Alright! ’Errybody out!”
Ocellus and Sandbar scooted to the side as Silverstream bounded out onto the sidewalk – followed by Gallus at a more sedate pace even though it was clear that he’d lost his taste for the cramped space. He tugged at the nape of his hoodie, then held up Silverstream’s sketch book for all to see.
“I made a few calls, and pretty much anything official is shuttered for the foreseeable future.”
“So... we’re done here?”
Gallus was quick to stifle any pessimism from Smolder. “Nah. Found a few home based repair shops, and one of them works year-round. Couldn’t get a hold of them directly but if they are anything like the guys back home they’d rather just have you bring it on over instead of argue about it over the phone.”
“That all hinges upon them being home,” Smolder cautioned. “Is this really the best we can do?”
“Considering the circumstances, Smolder, I’d say we’re doing good for ourselves. And if they’re not home or can’t fix us up then we’ll just have to hop the train to Canterlot and see what turns up there.”
“And if you're worried about a repeat of earlier…” Gallus cut off any retort with a confident smile. “Don’t. If Ponyville is the center of Equestria then Canterlot is the center of the universe. Plenty of big demand to warrant a big supply. And those upper crust snobs always want the best things to show off to their friends. I wouldn’t be shocked if most of them own legit supercomputers just for office work and the occasional round of solitaire or minesweeper.”
The technically minded group got a good chuckle out of that one as there was a real smattering of truth behind it. Feeling like a bit of a joker herself at that time, Smolder tried to keep the merriment going with a smart remark.
“So, where are headed to oh Gallus, master of grand plans?”
Yona butted in before Gallus could respond. “Yona think repair shop best option. Ocellus have big rig, best tackle big challenge first.”
“I’m with Yona!” Silverstream declared. “That Gem Matrix Thingamabobber is cool, I wanna fix it!”
“Alright then. I got the address right here,” Gallus tapped on the pad, “so how about we get O’s system packed up and ready to roll. Talons crossed they can fix it.”
Smolder mulled that over for a second, then nodded. “Alright, that’s a plan.”
After packing up Ocellus’s Gem Matrix
The gang collectively grunted and groaned as they pushed Ocellus’s rig along. Moving the Gem Matrix through the academy’s smooth halls was hard enough, but guiding the massive cabinet over rough terrain was a true test of patience. It took five sets of hooves and claws to not only keep in the center of the ice-patched path that passed for a city road, but to get over all the little bumps and divots without causing any more damage to the machine.
Sandbar had taken the lead, his deep breaths pumping white vapor into the air as he forged ahead. He was the odd creature out in this instance, once again saddled with the responsibility of minding his cart laden with all the essentials that didn’t have wheels. Not being the athletic sort, the earth pony found himself getting a bit winded from pulling a rather heavy weight for a long distance, not to mention the simple harness that was straining close to its limit would dig in quite painfully whenever momentum was lost. He also found himself playing the role of a guide, keeping an eye out for the smoothest route and following it as closely as possible.
The going was rough, and it only got rougher before Smolder soon found it within herself to lodge the first complaint.
“Tell me.” The orange dragon huffed while hiking up a bundle of wires that wouldn’t stay in the cart back onto her shoulder. “Why’re we bringing the whole system with us?”
Gallus flashed her a grin while keeping his talons wrapped around a convenient albeit rusted handle that had been bolted to the system’s frame at some point in its life.
“Because,” he sing-songed. “This ain’t my first rodeo. When it involves computers it’s best to bring the whole box with you, especially when said box is pushing thirty or however many years old.”
“I get that,” Smolder agreed. “But… the whole thing?”
Gallus ground his beak in annoyance. It was mostly because the road was horrifically cambered and the gem matrix wanted to constantly drift towards the ditch, but a little ire was directed toward his dragon friend as well.
“We’re bringing the whole thing so that when more faults are found we don’t have to fly all the way back to get something important.”
With a grumble of annoyance, Smolder dropped the issue and cast her attention elsewhere. The part of town was new to her and most of the other creatures foreign to Equestria. It certainly wasn’t out of any kind of animosity as many students visited the Everfree, just that the de-facto entrance was Fluttershy’s Animal Sanctuary further south. Any other spot was considered too risky to venture into, thus, they hadn’t much reason to travel anywhere else.
A lot of the properties were quite a bit more unkempt than the usual, with dour looking cottages standing against both the winter and the wind. Most of them were vacation homes only ever occupied during nicer months, with only a select few spewing little puffs of smoke out of their chimneys.
“Alright, simpler question.” Smolder threw a careless wave to their surroundings. “How much more of this before we get there?”
“Just a little longer guys.” Sandbar assured them all. “We’re almost there. Just a few more numbers.”
The local pony had been counting the tags on the mailboxes as soon as they had crossed the river, searching for the correct one while reciting what he’d learned from Gallus in his head. They went up numerically the further down the road they went, and after passing a few more boxes he drew to a stop in front of a freshly shoveled driveway.
“This looks like the spot. Signs of life too.”
Of all the little lots they’d slogged past, this one was the most disorganized. Apart from some minimal upkeep, it looked like whomever was living there had let it go to the metaphorical dogs. Tall, stiff grasses grew out well above the snowpack, with much of that having drifted up around the foundations of the dime-a-dozen cottage and attached garage right smack in the center. It was pretty rough too, with paint chipping off the siding and a layer of frosty grime obscuring the windows. Despite that, the front door looked quite new and a lit neon sign in the adjacent window assured all passer’s by that the little business within was open.
“Well, that looks homely,” Smolder groused while taking in the sight.
Gallus didn’t miss her lack of approval, but having grown up around far worse, he could only respond with a shrug. “If these guys can get O up and running again, then I dont give a damn about the state of their digs.”
“Pony house don’t look so hot.” Yona regarded the home with a dangerous glint in her eyes “Yak need smash pony house into ground so pony can rebuild again!”
Not wanting the situation to get any worse by virtue of a missed yak holiday, Ocellus rushed out in front of Yona to offer a more peaceful solution. “Ah, no need for that. How about Gallus and I go up and ring the doorbell instead?”
Silverstream instantaneously held up her talons. “Oh! Can I tag along again?”
“And Silver,” Ocellus quickly added before Gallus could complain.
Sandbar, who was still breathing quite deeply, happily agreed to that. “Sounds good. We’ll stay out here while you guys talk business.”
Without any more time wasted, Gallus flashed Silverstream a challenging smirk and then winged across the yard towards the stoop, a hippogriff in pursuit. Ocellus was far more restrained in her choice to canter up the driveway and over to the steps. She got the impression that while the rest of the property had much to be desired, those who owned it cared enough to provide visitors with groomed paths to the front door. A door which Gallus casually opened for them once they’d all gathered.
“Mares first, heh.”
While the outside at least resembled a typical residence, the interior they entered into could only be described as chaotic. What would have been a cozy den anywhere else looked like a veritable repair shop for all kinds of electronic devices. Carpets had been stripped from the floor, and dividing walls had been knocked down to make room for shelves upon industrial shelves of necessary tools and supplies for a myriad of tasks. From the front windows all the way back to what was possibly a kitchen area, they were jam-packed with wire spools; labeled tubs full of nuts and bolts, capacitors, relays, among other bits and bobs.
Most would have balked at the state of affairs and assumed that this business was run by messy lunatics, but ever having an eyespot for detail, Ocellus could see method in the madness. Under the supplies – buried in some cases – were workbenches which each had a specific theme. The ones closest to the door were set up for soldering and basic repairs if the irons, hot glue guns, circuit boards, and wire strippers cluttering them were any indication. Others were outfitted for more complex operations, with heavier duty equipment like vices and grinders clamped to their sides and an occasional power tool such as a rotary tool or corded drill laying around on their tops.
The one bench which the changeling was innately drawn to had not only been the cleanest, but it was likely the one which saw the most use. The multimeters, bench-mounted power supplies, and oscilloscope among other metering devices served to test out devices brought in either faulty or functional, but to most of the customers that was probably as far as any thought went into it. That was a real shame as just like her friend Gallus, she loved to tinker with computers and other machines, but her true passion lay in the forces which made those machines possible. Whether that was the humble electrical sine wave or the variety of arcane enchantments which make the tech world go round, Ocellus felt compelled to study them as much as possible, and she only wished that more of her peers felt the same way.
Slverstream’s excitement had waned the moment she saw what she’d walked into. While she had matured her curiosity over her time in Equestria to the point of not having to examine every oddity in sight, the sheer amount of things in the space was already challenging her resolve.
“Ah, here we go.”
Gallus brushed past Silverstream and went up to the freestanding shelves in the center of the shop. Vacuum tubes of all shapes and sizes had their connector prongs stabbed into soft foam boards, with masking tape labels on the sides of each. Some of them were of the general cathode variety, but the majority were the standard gem tech design, with gems of many shapes, sizes, and colors housed within. He started examining the listed brands, types, sizes and power outputs of what was on display and Ocellus quickly joined in. But as the changeling made an efficient once-over of the stock, she came to the conclusion that the low-output gem types used in consumer electronics just wouldn’t cut it. What she needed was a specialty component, and it was extremely doubtful it would be found on some dingy old shelf in Ponyville.
“Um, I don’t think any of these will work.”
“Certainly not,” Gallus intoned through the shelf. “These are all for things like fax machines and card readers, but if you look closer–”
He plucked a tube out of the corner of a board and held it out in the light. “You’ll see a little number one on the base.”
“Oh! I see it!”
Gallus may have not been the best at clueing others into things, but Silverstream’s almost frantic pointing gave Ocellus a place to look. She could just squint out a tiny digit stamped into the brass and… nothing else? That wasn’t right.
“Apart from the near impossible chance of kids like us coming across serial number one of anything, these have no other official inscriptions which makes them counterfeit. Which also means–”
The sharp, exaggerated gasp that Silverstream drew in wasn’t something unusual to her friends, it was what usually followed that would sometimes outright astound them or leave them scratching their heads at the very least.
“We just busted an illegal tube smuggling ring! And right here in Ponyville! Do you know what this means guys?! Princess Celestia will give us all the medals for sure!”
“Um, no.” Gallus deadpanned. “Ocellus?”
“They’re made here?” Ocellus ventured.
“And that they can possibly make something special for us?” Gallus finished his rhetorical questioning. “Yeah.”
While the homemade tubes were a promising find, nothing was certain until they could find those responsible for creating them. The sole technician – they assumed – was found in the far back, lounging in an office chair which looked like it served all the little workshops. They were facing away from the entrance, with two stubby black denim clad legs propped up on a ratty kitchen counter. A burly, gray furred right arm was crossed and resting against their knees while a giant left paw fiddled with something strapped to their wrist. Ocellus was interested in addressing the diamond dog and getting down to business, but that mystery device was far more captivating.
It resembled an old, beat up lunchbox at first glance, but given the girth of the wrist it was attached to, it could have passed for a giant watch. A militaristic brown coat of paint covered the body, and all the scuffs and chips on the hard edges spoke of years of hard service. A vertical row of three red diodes in the top right corner would flicker intermittently as the computer it contained ran through its current programming, and two tubes glowed steadily behind a coarse mesh grate.
As Ocellus trod around slightly to get a better view and possibly get the dog’s attention, she was able to see the little game playing out on the monochromatic green display. As a dial was turned on the side, a little bar on that side of the screen moved accordingly to intercept a dot that was flying between it and a similar bar. Despite the crude nature, she immediately understood it as a game of digital tennis, and judging by the score at the top the CPU was having a good run of things.
She also noted that the little analog clock and calendar roll was displaying the correct date and time, which was a nice touch.
The dog was so engrossed in that activity that they did not acknowledge the visitors even when they were well within peripheral vision. A heavy set jaw hung open, revealing a mouthful of dirty canines partially obscured by jagged gums and lips as they breathed out snippets of self-encouragement at the screen which emitted a constant green glow.
“Yesss. Fetch the ball. Get it, get it!”
“Uh, hi there.”
With a startled yelp, the dog toppled over backwards, but was quick to clamor up and right the chair before a sheepish changeling and a bemused griffon. They looked particularly irritated at the interruption and invasion of personal space, but after checking over their device and powering it down that mood changed to one of curiosity.
“Customer?”
The dog immediately entered into a spat of self-grooming, grabbing at the sides of their black shirt and straightening them out, and then patting down the red vest worn over it. With one last shuffle of black hi-top shoe clad paws, the technician gazed down upon the customers with green slitted eyes and grinned in as disarming a fashion as possible.
“S-sorry about that miss! What is that pony, er…, bugpony?”
The tinny and verging on whiny falsetto which came out the dog’s squat muzzle was a bit unexpected to Ocellus even though a few of the new canine students attending school that year spoke in similar tones, but if she was put off by that or any ignorance on the dog’s part, she didn’t outwardly display it. All the dogs she’d encountered displayed similar mannerisms even though this one was clearly a bit older.
“Well, um, miss…?”
The dog waved away the pleasantries. “Names Rover, just Rover.”
“Alright, Rover.” Ocellus softly cleared her throat. “I need a new gem tube for my system. I blew one last night and we’ve been running all over town ever since to find a fix. Gallus saw your ad in the yellow pages and here we are.”
“Yess, we make gem tubes here,” Rover almost hissed at the prospect of good business during a slow winter. “Does, er, do you know what type of tube it was?”
“Yes, I got it right here. Well, what’s left of it at any rate.”
Ocellus reached into one of her parka’s cavernous pockets and pulled out a wad of plastic wrap bound by several loops of masking tape. Once Rover got a hold of it he pulled it apart slightly to get a better look. After staring at the shattered remains for a rather lengthy moment, he closed up the bundle and then opened it up again. Several times he did this, examining the contents with ever widening eyes before glancing back up.
“Do you have any Idea what this is?”
“I…” Ocellus glanced around sheepishly, a sudden bout of self-consciousness overtaking her mind. Gallus was quick to pick up on this and carried the conversation. At least he would have if Silverstream hadn’t beaten him to it.
“It’s just a big gem tube, right?” The hippogriff shrugged. “What’s so special about it?”
“What’s so special?!” Rover yelped. "This is a GemThunder XF-98000!”
Rover didn’t allow the three any time for rebuttal as he started to pace, as though he were a professor giving a lecture, a lecture Gallus was certain he’d given several times before based upon expressions alone.
“Not just a big tube, it was the tube! Light years ahead of the competition! And the gems inside? The purest, cleanest one could find Only around, oh, ten-thousand of these were ever made and half of them went into mainframes. The others that still survive are either floating through gray markets or are held in labs for exhaustive testing.”
As Rover rattled off his spiel Ocellus’s hopes had faded for finding a fix, but the dog had also instilled hope in the fact that there were still options out there. She just needed to know a little more…
“Those that survived?”
“Yesss.” Rover started to excitedly whine through his nose, but he easily caught himself and carried on with spoken word. “Ahem. At the time, the only way to achieve enough magical energy to power a gem matrix was to use a rare gem only to be found in the frozen north. The gem, when exposed to the extreme cold, would take on incredible heat dissipation properties. That was why those mainframes were capable of what they did, as any lesser gem would have fried under the workload.”
Gallus could only frown at that. Rarity and scarcity of components was something he was well acquainted with and the way things sounded this tube was something special. He had no idea how much this would cost, and he doubted that this guy would accept credit, but for the sake of it all he had to ask.
“I take it this won’t be cheap to replace?”
“Well, yes.”
When Rover saw the teens' demeanors wilt slightly he quickly carried on. “A-and no. The thing is at the time those who had the means to find these gems were all at the king’s knees, but with rapid advances in the field more common gems were found which did a better job. Getting them to play nice enough to outmatch it was next to impossible, but that became moot when transistors took the world by storm.”
Rover sighed deeply. “How times have changed.”
The blank stares he was now receiving got his mind back into gear. “Right, transistors. Those were supposed to replace gem tech, but lucky for you they can also keep that tech going. It won’t be cheap and it won’t be pretty, but I can easily build a new tube. Um, where is your computer at?”
Gallus pointed a carefree claw towards the front door. “Just on the side of the road, along with the rest of the gang.”
“Goood,” Rover almost purred. Then almost as though a light bulb went off in his head, his attitude changed to one of concern. “But that means we gotta get it into my workshop quick. Follow me!”
Rover led them a few paces over to a door with a neon sign over the doorway denoting it as one that led to a workshop , and pretty much shunted it open with a shoulder. Gallus couldn’t make out much of the workshop due to the lights being off, but the waft of cool and musky air told him that what they were entering wasn’t nearly as well insulated as the living area. Their guide was now leaning around the doorframe, fumbling for a switch.
“Come on. Light. Light!”
With that shout of triumph at something as mundane as flipping a switch, the shop was bathed in flickering fluorescent light. The technician was already on his paws to accommodate his new customers, stopping briefly by an expansive workbench to turn on some power strips, and then rushing over to a pull chain in a far corner. All it took was a sharp tug, and a portion of the blanket-clad wall started to rise.up.
“Go! Bring your machine inside, don’t leave it out in the cold!” Rover commanded while heaving on the chain.
As soon as the garage door cleared their faces, Ocellus and Gallus headed over to where the rest of the gang was waiting. They made quick work in muscling the mainflame off the shoulder of the road and up the driveway, and their host had done the same in clearing up space for it. Once it, the cart, and all six were in, Rover shut out the cold and bounded across the rough concrete clear to the other end of the shop. By some miracle, the errant dog hadn’t knocked over any of his valuable equipment despite the close quarters.
And close quarters they were, as everybody had to jostle around a bit to find a good spot. It was an immediate question as to what was hogging all the space, and there was no need to look far to find the culprit. The giant wood construction in the back looked more like a scaffold than a desk and the oblong pc monitor sitting on the far end was dwarfed by a neighboring something covered by an old quilt. Next to the right side of this monstrous setup was an indoor planter box, but whatever was growing within didn’t look like the usual garden variety. The reservoir below it meant that whatever it contained needed irrigation, and that was piped up into the box on either end.
If the gang weren’t already collectively scratching their heads, then what happened to be on the left would have cemented their confusion. That whole corner of the shop was stuffed full of pressurized gas cylinders of all shapes and sizes, with the congregation being several layers deep. Some of them had easily recognized shapes and placards, but the majority were mysteries.
No further investigations could be made as Rover needed help to get the gem matrix pieced back together into a workable state, but once that was sorted Gallus inquired about what had grabbed his attention first.
“So what’s with the old Zerox Atlas?”
“That old thing?” Rover barked out a laugh. “It’s what I had laying around that nobody wanted, which makes it perfect for making my, heh, gems.”
Ocellus pursed her lips at that. “How do you make gems here? Don’t you need an arcane laboratory for that? And how do you do it without magic?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that alot. But we dogs have found ways around that.”
Just to emphasize that point, Rover grabbed onto the old quilt which covered half the desk and tugged it away to reveal some kind of industrial apparatus. It had a flat base of rather thick steel, with four square struts situated in the center holding up some kind of small chamber. The struts carried on up to a steel top, and the whole device was surrounded by blast resistant glass.
“Whoa,” Sandbar slowly drolled out.
All eyes except for Rover’s drifted over to the most inventive member of the group as though he held the answers.
“Well?” Gallus was the first to inquire. “You sound like you know something.”
“Actually, I was hoping you or Ocellus could tell me what we’re staring at.”
Ocellus was able to issue some insight. “I’ve never seen a device like this before, but I have seen that setup inside before.” She looked to the one who would know best. “This is what charges your gem tubes, correct?”
Rover didn’t answer immediately as he was engrossed with booting up the computer and checking over some connections in the back, but when the screen came to life he was able to respond.
“That’s right. My whole business is built around this puppy. Most gem techs have one of these, but most of them are around the major cities. I gotta be the only one out in this area, at least as far as I know.”
“Sounds like we caught some luck this time,” Gallus quipped. “Do you think you could clue us in on what you plan to do?”
“Right, I was just getting back to that. The gem tube that burst on you is not just any old tube. They’re all special because of their ability to handle an immense shared workload, and the matrix they create is what allowed those machines to be so compact.”
At that, all the younger sets of eyes settled upon the towering edifice of all their problems that morning. There were many adjectives that had been thrown at Ocellus’s computer, especially on the trip over, but compact was never one of them. Still, they were on the right track so it didn’t pay to complain.
“But,” Rover cautioned. “Finding a direct replacement is next to impossible, even on this continent, so I’ll have to use a common workaround.”
“Ooh,” Sandbar almost cooed. “He’s gonna mod it.”
“Pony speaks as though I intend to cut this fine machine apart and cobble it back together into a new design. Lucky for us, GemThunder products are known for their crazy modularity, even their prototypes. All I should have to do is replace the broken bits with new pieces which should take maybe an hour at most. If you don’t mind waiting here, that is.”
After detailing what his plan of attack would be, Rover went to his waiting terminal and started typing. The old machine clearly showed its age as there was quite the delay between keyboard inputs and their outcomes, and Rover had to peck at the keys one at a time to compensate. Once everything on that end was squared away, he stabbed the return key and moved onto the next step.
That step involved Rover pulling a small enchanted lockbox out from under the desk and pawing through its contents. After picking out a few pretty, precut gems and placing them onto the open space between the gem charger and the monitor, he shrugged and poured the rest of his collection out. After spending a minute or so examining them under the bright fluorescent lights, he had formed a pile of the best and swiped the rest back into their container.
"Yesss," he happily hissed while holding one up to his eye. "These'll do nicely."
Standing just out of earshot, she believed, Smolder elbowed Gallus in the side. "Getting the impression this guy likes his gems."
"Yeah, sure," Gallus half-heartedly grinned. "I'm sure he loves his bits just as much.” He then grimaced. “Hopefully he doesn't taste them after cleaning us out..."
After peering into the depths of the gem, Rover went over to the miniature laboratory and undid the metal clasps holding the top cover down. With the cover set aside for the time being, he pulled out the internal container and seated the gem inside, and replaced both parts in swift order.
The next step involved the things the gang were most curious about. Rover waded into the forest of tanks and hefted one up to examine the gauge on its regulator. With that one cradled in his left arm, he did the same with two others and brought them over to the workbench. There were already three gigantic cylinders affixed to the side and the new additions were set up loosely next to them, where they were connected up to the system as well.
Thirty Minutes Later
After what felt like little time at all, Rover had completed his task of repairing Ocellus’s Gem Matrix. In a process which even she had a hard time understanding, he had charged some specialty gems with the requisite properties fitting their application and then assembled them into gem tubes. Those tubes, sixteen in total, were soldered onto a custom circuit board and the entire assembly was mounted in place of the original single tube and its scorched receptacle.
With all the physical repairs complete it was felt by all that the ordeal was coming to a close. All that was left was to fire it up and see what happened. Seven sets of ears listened for any odd sounds as the machine roared to life and booted through its preliminaries, even if only a select few knew what to listen for.
With that process complete, Rover hunched himself over the terminal and the brief tension ebbed away as he installed the necessary drivers for full functionality. This brought a palpable relief to all present, with excited mutterings barely audible over the din about having solved the problem ringing true. With all that done in rather quick order the technician rebooted the system from its debug mode back to its standard parameters, and took a step back to survey his handiwork.
Ocellus stepped up to also watch the spectacle of the matrix at idle. She knew that keeping her old system going was always going to be an uphill battle due to its rarity and complete lack of official legacy support, but it sure felt nice to see it up and running once again. It did look odd with the mismatched repair ruining any kind of symmetry, but she kept such thoughts to herself. That was merely the cost of entry. Third parties, namely modders and tinkerers, were the only avenues to go down with such devices and her appreciation for Rover and others like him far outshined any small complaints.
The miasma of arcing energy which she was well acquainted with played out its usual dance, and the new addition was no exception. The tiny tubes were quite bright and they pulsed in a sequence all their own. Rover had happily clued everybody in on how the community developed replacement operated and he wasn’t displaying any outward signs of alarm. In fact, the only thing she could detect off of him was the thick caramel of nostalgia, along with the spice of pride and a hint of awe.
“So, what does Ocellus think?”
Ocellus grinned. “It’s working again and on such short notice too. Thanks for this Rover!”
“Heh, it's nothing. It’s been a while since I worked on one of these, sure beats the fax machines and other junk I’m fixing. The last time I touched serious Gem Tech was for a fellow dog a few years back, although with his crazy pink fur and being about half my size I’m convinced he’s part pony. Practically afraid of his own shadow too…”
Meanwhile, in the Middle of Nowhere
Middle of Nowhere was exactly as the name implied. Situated just off the railroad between Appaloosa and Dodge Junction, the scraggly escarpment of land wasn’t well known to those outside the Oatlahoma province as it was greatly outshined by those more successful settlements. Still, plenty of folks had settled in the area, to either have a go at farming or to simply get away from it all, with the land divided up into expansive tracts playing host to modest farmsteads and campsites.
To the Nowhere Post pony making his daily round, the farmhouse up next was just like many others on the block. A rough and rustic two and a half floor building with a crooked steel chimney jutting out of one side of the slanted roof, an open air porch with a green door in the front, and a cellar entrance around back. The farmer who owned it was quite a bitter fellow according to some of the door to door solicitors and he would have to agree. His wife was far more pleasant, and the diamond dog who lived with them was always happily taking deliveries, and it was the hope of most to only have to deal with the latter two.
The rest of the plot had some common sights, such as a tall windmill, barn with a chicken coop next to it, and an old wagon parked in front. That monstrosity, with its green enclosed cab, big axles and wooden stakebed was a fair bit bigger than the one he and his team were pulling into the siding which led past a staked out garden plot and right up to the door.
The package to deliver that day was a wooden shipping crate, one which visited the home every month or so. The warnings branded into its slab sides were oft-putting to those in the sorting office, but they were only cheeky hints at something unnatural housed within. And that something was quite heavy, he noted for the second time that morning as he wheeled it down the ramp with a hoof dolly and dragged it up the steps to the door.
Inside, it was business as usual for the inhabitants. In the living room, the old stallion with a toothless, jutting jaw lounged animatedly in his favorite old red armchair and laughed at the television program in which a pony danced around with bananas stuffed in their ears. His pale yellow shirt with big black buttons and worn olive overalls ill-fit his gaunt frame, with the same easily said for his oversized black shoes. His brown hat with a button on top and panhandle brim fared better clinging to his bald head and round spectacles held in place by a perpetually wrinkled snout and knitted brow.
A stout knock on the front door drew his attention away from the comedic spectacle and in irritation he bellowed towards the kitchen. “Can you get that door?!”
In the kitchen, the elderly mare of the homestead was fast at work preparing lunch. She hummed jovially and gently swayed side to side in sturdy black leather boots, her simple orange frock and white curly mane flowing along as she tended to a skillet of vegetable spring rolls which fried away in a shallow pool of oil. She was balancing that with some potstickers as well along with some diced vegetables with orange sauce she stir-fried in a separate wok. Compared to what everypony else in her neck of the woods would eat, she was always cooking up something new and exciting to enjoy. As she stepped to wipe her steamed spectacles on her bright yellow apron, she inhaled the aromas of what was shaping up to be another great meal, but her helpful assistant could not be forgotten.
At the table, a stubby little diamond dog had been helping to prepare the rolls and potstickers for cooking. His tiny paws may have been caked with flour and his short stature may have only just allowed him to comfortably work all the ingredients together, but that didn’t stop him from humming a happy little tune while tapping the toe of a pink and black trimmed high-top sneaker on the floor. They weren’t the closest match to his unnaturally pink fur but got the job done just fine. As for the tune he tapped to, it came from a pair of repaired Pony studio grade headphones paw-painted pink in certain areas plugged into a clunky portable cassette player clipped to his belt.
“Can you get that door?!”
The obtuse yell from the old stallion drew attention to the knock at the door, and given that particular visitor always showed up on a schedule it could only mean one thing.
“Must be the post stallion,” the elderly mare surmised. “Could you go get that, dear? We’re just about done here, just need to fry the last few and lunch be done.”
Glad to know that good food awaited and eager to stretch his legs, the diminutive diamond dog slid out of his chair and swiftly retrieved a clean towel to wipe his paws on. Unlike some from his species who cared less about hygiene, he preferred cleanliness of both body and garb. The pink short-sleeved shirt, black fleece vest worn over it, and black cargo pants had all been laundered that morning and a fresh set of clothing was a gift in itself. Satisfied with the quick once-over, he departed the kitchen with a spring in his step. The old stallion grumbled in annoyance and disappointment as his view was blocked for a second as his housemate headed for the door.
A blast of freezing plains air struck the dog’s sensitive nose when he cracked the door open, and everywhere else when he stepped out onto the creaky old porch entirely. The moment he’d presented himself, the post ponies set to work unloading a sizable crate from their wagon. The usual stallion who typically made his rounds solo was waiting with some regular letters in his hoof.
“Why hello again. I have your daily mail along with your usual package. Just need to roll through the invoice and a signatory as always.”
The dog accepted the letters into his paw and the stallion produced a clipboard from under his peacoat.
“Monster Master Co. and Phantom Prepper Inc. by-annual cryptozoology database update,” the stallion rhetorically read off the invoice. He glanced up once for assent and upon receiving it through some overexaggerated nodding, continued.
“With phantoms, Spirits, Rituals; in all the many formats you asked for…”
The clipboard was spun around to face the dog, and he wasted no time in grabbing the attached pen and scratching out his signature on the empty line. As he did so, the front door squealed open and the old mare of the house stepped out with a bag of extra food she had prepared just for the occasion in hoof.
“Thank you all for delivering on such a beautiful holiday,” she addressed the stallion with a genial smile. She then patted the dog on his head. “He just loves to keep up to date on all the unusual happenings of the world.”
Being a pillar of their little community (at least in the culinary sense), everypony knew of the old mare’s delicious recipes and she was always happy to share them whenever she could. And the busy stallions were more than happy to receive a hearty free meal for their efforts.
“No problem,” the poststallion waved off any concern. “And as always your cooking smells as good as ever!”
He then bowed slightly. “Well, I’m off. Have a nice day!”
Mail business taken care of for the day, the old mare and dog quickly got back inside to review what had been received. As the warm air and strong aromas returned to his sensitive nose, the old stallion was seen still in his chair, but now he was outfitted with a food trolley wheeled up next to him. He delighted in stuffing his maw with the lunch he’d been pining over for the last hour, but he paused when he saw his housemate and then sneered. He jabbed a hoof at the crate cradled protectively in the dog’s arms.
“If you ask me, that stuff is just a waste of good bits.”
At first it was thought that the stallion was actually addressing him, but his scowling gaze went past the dog and landed on his wife instead.
“I don’t know why you give him an allowance anyway given all he does is spend it on nothing but junk he drags into this house!”
The dog ground his teeth at that one. The disapproving looks were one small thing, but to insult and dismiss his hard work was crossing a line. While he sure wanted to give that ignoramus a piece of his mind, the stallion’s better half came to his defense which boosted his mood slightly.
“Now, now, don’t be like that,” she smiled encouragingly at her husband. “He’s a smart boy after all.”
The old stallion scowled deeply as his wife once again sided with the household pet, but never one to back down, his aged mind came up with a devious ploy.
“You know what?” he grinned crookedly. “You’re right. He is a smart boy. In fact, I even got him a little hearth’s warming gift.”
The dog knew that something was off with such an offer considering who it had come from, but his damned canine curiosity had taken over and was intrigued by what could be in store.
“Hey dog! I got something just for you.” The old farmer made a show of digging under the cushion for something important. “And It ain’t no trash, you’ll like it for sure!”
In a movement which truly belied his age, he spun his entire body to face the dog, head adorned with a freaky mask. The nuclear green skin; giant, garishly purple boil-covered nose, crazy orange and black-striped eye and mouth with nasty pink-tinged teeth would have been revolting to pretty much any creature, but for the dog who didn’t take to scares at all it was terror-inducing. He was fixed in place as his pulse skyrocketed and everything slowed to a blurry crawl, except for the object of horror which stood out in abject detail. The at-that-moment miniscule part of his brain which rationalized fear struggled to reign it all in, but the delivered coup-de-grace dashed any hope of that.
“Ooga booga booga!”
The crate dropped to the floor as the dog screamed and departed it for a moment, jumping up and waving his arms around as the fur they bore stood on spiked end. As soon as his lungs lost air and his paws hit the rug, he frantically scooped up his package and scurried for the stairs while huffing in sheer panic. A thrown glance back revealed the old stallion giggling away only to get thawked in the head with a rolling pin by a scowling wife.
“Ow! What did I do?!”
Any more of that exchange was missed as the dog barreled up to the second level and into the room where he felt safe.
As soon as the door slammed shut the dog leaned all his weight into it. As his panicked breaths abated, they were replaced with soft growls full of derision. That… farmer . After all the times he’d helped around the yard, all the times he’d saved that cruel old pony from certain doom, he still treated him like… like, a stupid dog! But, there was no reason to be upset forever as even in his haste, he still had the wherewithal to bring his mail up to his den.
It may have been small being an attic room, but it was the one place on the farm he had full run of, and it was quite nice for one who preferred the quiet life. With a soft hum, he ambled over to the bed in the far corner and set his box down on the comforter. Quickly producing a small penknife from a breast pocket, he flipped it open and carefully cut through the Monster Master Co. and Phantom Prepper Inc. labeled packing tape.
The Cryptozoology Database was a by-monthly subscription, but at the end of each year they liked to send out some extra goodies alongside the usual magazine and database updates. The first things out of the box were an embroidered blanket with a smiling kirin face on one side and its fiery, snarling nirik alter-ego on the other and a black beanie with I Saw It With My Own Two Eyes stitched into the brim. Those were nice to have, especially the hat if he found somebody in need of some warm clothing, but they weren’t of great interest.
More up his alley were the new posters, rolled up neatly in tubes, which would join his other posters on the wall above the bed. They were prints of photographs cryptozoologists both professional and amateur had managed to snap of elusive cryptids throughout the year and as usual, there were plenty of new creepy creatures to watch out for. Two of the posters were pretty run-of-the-mill compared to some of the crazier sightings, but the third… he had to glance away from it and cough in a rather self-conscious manner.
Well, he felt that one was a little too candid to openly display.
Right under those was the current issue of the magazine which came with all updates. Its cover showed a terrifying situation. A sheep, caught out in the dark and separated from any flock, accosted by an axe-wielding maniac of a ghost silhouetted against a harvest moon. All she had between herself and certain doom was a dryer door she was using as an improvised shield. At least it would have been terrifying if not for her companion.
The wolf to the side of her clutched at what was once a perfectly good pole lamp, but via the cutlery both tied and taped to one end, now acted as a spear. Neither looked like the fighting type, but regardless of that they had prepared themselves to meet the threat with whatever they had on paw, and that was something the dog whole-heartedly stood behind. The subtitle Fight Back! In big bold letters was on the right side of the cover, and the text block below said How to turn common items into improvised weapons and use them against the supernatural!
That would make for good late-night reading, but what he was truly after was in the bottom of the box. As always, he was relieved to see that all the tapes and discs were shipped in individual protective sleeves and weren’t just sloshing around even though he’d never had such a problem with the company. He was also amazed at the sheer amount and variety which this installment contained. His claws gravitated towards the biggest video cassette and he didn’t need to look any closer to know it was a Beta. While nowhere near as popular as VHS, many still used camcorders in the BetaMax format to record events, and was the reason why he had a player in his A/V stack.
In comparison, there were five sleeved VHS tapes which were pulled out and spread upon the bed. It was by far the most common format for recording home movies, but there were even more formats dedicated to audio within. These were two 8-track and three garden variety compact cassettes, a compact disk and a laserdisc all in jewel cases, and that concluded the Cryptozoology Database update.
All there was left to do with it all was to put it in the proper players and those he had in abundance in the head-height rack unit on the other side of the room. It was a repetitive task of ejecting media one at a time from each, storing them away and replacing them with the new ones. Most of what he removed would be sent down into basement storage, but some of the tapes and discs he no longer had use for were rewritable. The company offered a credit towards the next installment for those who returned such media, so he carefully sleeved those up and placed them in the bottom of the crate. And wasn’t recycling all the rage?
As for how all that information would become easily accessible? Well, that was a real point of pride. Each player would have individually required some kind of interface such as a TV or speakers, but with some know-how, all those players could be made to operate from a single source. The mass of cords which almost blotted out the wooden wall were all routed to a spot between the stack and the computer desk where everything got power from an industrial surge strip. All the.video and audio inputs plugged into a giant hub which allowed seamless transitions between all sources via his computer. However, the VCR he possessed couldn’t be operated remotely so he had to get creative with some miniature actuators to physically push the buttons and a tiny logic board to interpret digital signals. He would have loved to have a nice modern player with less fuss, but a combination of short bits and DIY pride kept it at bay.
Also of note were several rack mounts for extra storage at the bottom of the stack along with a bulky printer residing on the floor next to a table leg.
With all the bigger players ready to run their new media, he cast his attention towards the simple wooden table to the left, and the computer residing in the middle of it. It was a rather plain beige desktop design with a stack of three drive bays on the right side of the machine along with a single wide proprietary slot on the left. When the big red power button between them was depressed, the left slot glowed an eerie green from within as it clicked and whirred into life. The monitor atop the desktop was just as plain with a rather thin beige bezel encircling the bubble tube which would be displaying that boot interface shortly.
Around the computer were some basic peripherals like a mouse and keyboard front and center, with a shaded desk lamp on the window side. Under the light was an incredibly crude and boxy device, but what it lacked in form it made up for in great function. A general computer user could usually get away with the internal media drives in their systems just fine, but more advanced tasks could require one or a stack of external drives to augment what was already there. But with the sheer amount of different storage mediums the dog dealt with on the day to day, that many extra drives would overwhelm the tiny table the whole setup rested on.
So he did what any tech-dog worth their salt would do and used his know-how to consolidate them all into one device. The metal box he’d bent into shape was crammed with a plethora of different ports for all sorts of media that ringed its sides, whether they’d be floppy-style formats, data and video cassette decks, readers for various memory cards, and even an old bubble memory slot.
The update of course shipped with a few of those smaller mediums, which he slipped into their respective places. It was just in time for the boot sequence to initiate.
Digger Bios: version 1.1.2
CPU: GemTube Matrix Chip
Booting up GMS ver. 3.0
GUI overlay: Cemetery
A polite knock on the door brought his attention away from the computer. Only one pony in the house had such decency, and the old mare entered with a serving tray balanced on her back loaded up with a plate of still steaming food and a bottle of cola. With lips already salivating, he made space on the desk for both, plucked up a tasty, award winning spring roll off the plate, and popped it into his mouth.
“There we are,” the old mare grinned. “You took off in such a hurry you forgot yer lunch. A little food goes a long way, does it not?”
He only partially agreed. The home cooking was to die for, and considering where he’d come from he’d never shirk a good meal, but that didn’t stop him from still grumbling about earlier.
“Now, I know what my oaf of a husband did was childish and insensitive, but he’s not as bad as you think. My, you should hear him prattle on about all the broken things we find at yard sales and the junkyard and how a certain somebody gets them running just like new again. He's proud of you on some level, even if he doesn’t directly express it.”
Yeah, he snidely thought. Only because he’s too stingy to shell out for anything new.
The dog wasn’t really a talker, but he'd lived with the old mare long enough for her to have a good understanding of all his nonverbal cues, so she was quick to change the topic to something better.
“I see you got some nice things in the mail,” she stated while examining the snarling face and glowing eyes of the nirik blanket. “That’s a lovely quilt.”
“Mmm hmm,” the dog agreed around a second eggroll he’d popped into his mouth.
“Well, I know how much these things mean to you and you’re gonna need energy to get through it all, so I’ll leave you to it.”
With a happy wave from the dog, the old mare departed the room and drew the door shut with a soft click. Not entirely forgetting about his own meal, he picked up a potsticker and dipped it into the orange sauce. The sauce had the perfect balance of sweet and tang, and as it went down left a mild but pleasant heat at the back of the throat. After a minute, all six of the potstickers had been consumed and he was ready to take a break from that and get down to business.
“Well, aren’t you going to run downstairs and give a great big hug to your mummy.”
That nasally, posh trottingham voice which always caught him unaware oozed out the computer speakers, and he almost spat out his mouthful of soda directly onto the monitor. The assistant interface programmed into the gem chip was supposed to aid in complex tasks, but after dealing with its snark for the past few years he was convinced it was much more than a simple assistant.
With a decidedly flat expression, the dog moved his keyboard back into position and typed in his rebuttal.
Just got another update for you and the database.
The computer appeared to mull over this, the activity diode on the desktop flashing rapidly and slowing back down.
Oh joy, another update. You’d think those amateurs would have better things to do then traipse around graveyards and burial mounds, but as always, they don’t. Don’t you know that I’m so intelligent that I look down upon you like I do your junk fifty-six k modem you found in the trash pile you call your hidden gems.
Little jabs were one thing, but degrading insults were taking things too far. There was only one surefire way to settle him down for a bit, and that was only a few command inputs away.
This will shut you up for a tiny bit.
Not bothering to wait for another acidic response, he inputted a string which was so well known to him that he probably could type it in his sleep and mashed return..
UpdateDataBaseM&P.exe
Why you little-
Just like that, the voice was cut off and replaced with an affirming jingle which signified that real magic was about to begin. The activity diode now glowed solid as a multitude of progress bars stacked up on the screen, one for each media device connected. A few of those players had already fired up as the computer seeked out keywords and other information to compile into an easy index to navigate through.
As usual, the computer was taking its time processing the new data, so he spent that time finishing up his meal and drinking his drink. But with things loitering around sixty percent on the second bar there was no point in sitting around waiting. The tapes would only take even longer once they got going and despite the caffeine the urge to take a load off was strong and watching some TV for a bit sounded nice.
The bed was currently occupied, so he took a moment to tidy up by moving the crate to a spot under the ancient workbench at the foot of the bed, next to a stack of technical magazines. Its surface was taken by some tools with many more hanging from a pegboard on the wall, and curiously, some potted plants as well. A tiny tube television with its screen pointed towards the bed also took a decent chunk of space, but with no other choice, that’s where it had to be. The bench also had some thin drawers with just enough space inside for a few tackleboxes full of loose washers, miscellaneous fasteners and spare plug ends, along with a few speciality bit sets as well. The unit as a whole was heavily weathered from years of abuse out in the elements, but still served its purpose as well as ever.
The wardrobe next to the door received the new quilt and hat in one of its lower drawers. For a piece of furniture which had been essentially free, it was more than enough to house a small collection of clothing and any other things which couldn’t just be left out.
The bed was only a few steps away and within seconds he was comfortably reclining against a pillow and watching the grainy picture on the screen. Thanks to the giant yagi antenna topping the house there was no shortage of stuff to watch, even in the middle of nowhere.
What he settled upon was a cooking program detailing how to handle and prepare coconuts. For the next half hour it went through harvesting from the palm tree to cutting the fruit in half and using it as a cup for an alcoholic beverage made from its own milk. The tropical imagery was a far cry from what was outside the window and it brought some warmth to an otherwise chilly space.
Something outside the window caught his eye. It was barely perceptible through the foliage of the indoor planter box, but there was definitely movement out on the snow-dusted prairie. Most would have ignored such a thing and carried on, but with all the spooky happenings in those parts he just had to find out what it was. What he witnessed when those plants were parted caused his eyes to bulge out of their sockets and every hair down his spine to stand on end.
The… creature trudging across the back forty at first appeared to be equine in nature, but upon further observation it more resembled an oddly carved ice sculpture. Misshapen and disproportionate limbs dragged it along to an unknown destination, and those limbs looked like vines frozen in glass. The odd bulges were gourds of varying types and sizes, unharvested and lost to first frost, now encased under an icy carapace.
That was very concerning as there had been news in the area of garden plots being mysteriously wiped clean just after the first snows of the season, but within the body were things a bit worse. Old, soggy jack-o-lanterns were suspended in ice, thrown out to rot just after Nightmare Night only to be cursed with a new purpose. Even the ones with the jolliest carved expressions looked to be existing in misery and the distorted, transparent wall of their prison gave them an almost lifelike character.
It was the head of the beast, though, which was truly terrifying. The giant pumpkin was recognised as the one which had won first prize at the fall fair, and the blue flash of a victory ribbon was tied to its stem. Unlike its smaller compatriots, it initially appeared to have not been carved up for artistic amusement, but that didn’t stop the head from spinning around until its observer was greeted by an expression not created by any paw. It stared up at the window with a neutral air, not necessarily aggressive but somewhat challenging at the same time.
For a few moments none moved, until it shifted its focus onto something else. Its eyes and mouth arched into abject glee when it spied the patch of land which served as the homestead’s garden and it beelined toward it with new vigour.
The keening wail of terror could be heard throughout the house as the dog sounded his primal territorial alarm call. Multiple holographic copies of himself in all the hues of the rainbow sprung out from his sides screaming in unison, only to all snap back to him in an instant.
Back With the Gang
“Anyway, I’m thinking it's time to ring you pups up.”
Ocellus could only assume that Rover was going to lead them all back into the house to discuss payment, but unknown to all in the shop trouble was afoot. As the tubes heated up, so did the gems within, which added to the luminosity in an expected fashion. However, the added light was masking a dangerous feedback loop which was supposed to be dampened by the rest of the matrix. It was also supposed to be picked up readily by the digital control module, but due to the age of all those components none of that was happening.
And then, as though they were a string of firecrackers, all of the new tubes exploded.
Ocellus stumbled back and shielded her eyes with a hoof, mostly from the intense strobing light but also from the glass which shot out of the open cabinet. Gallus was quick to whisk her away from the danger, which was behind the cart. Despite it being still loaded down with some cabling, Smolder tossed it onto its side for a new use as a barricade and the three hit the deck behind it. And then about as quickly as the cacophony of smashing glass and terror began it ended, leaving the shop silent save for some whimpering from most present.
“You-?” Gallus huffed. “You good?”
Ocellus had to blink several times to get her eyes working properly, she saw that it was a puffed-up griffon who’d grabbed her, and she had latched onto him in turn. Smolder had been crouched down beside the two, and even in the chaos she had refrained from glomping on as well.
“I’m good,” Ocellus answered shakily, then frowned. “But I don’t think I can say the same for my system.”
The same old warning klaxon from last night blared into life, causing the three to flinch as they had just started to believe the coast was clear.
“Yeah, now it complains,” Smolder grumbled.
With a little blush, Ocellus relinquished her grip on Gallus and chanced a peek over the cover. The first thing her eyes settled upon was the Gem Matrix, or rather the thick gray smoke streaming out of the cabinet and up to the ceiling. That was not good, and with the magnitude of the failure there would no doubt be damages far exceeding what happened the previous night. Her detached appraisal of the aftermath turned to concern when she saw Rover curled up in a fetal position on the floor, and she immediately vaulted over the cart and galloped over to him, heedless of the little shards of glass which crunched under her boots.
“Shi-shoot, Rover! Are you alright?!”
The keening whimpers from the downed canine meant that he was far from okay, but with a little assistance he was able to reclaim his wits and struggle to his feet. He had the misfortune of not only being directly in line with the matrix when the malfunction hit, but also of having been facing away and bending over to pick up something. Thus, most of the projectiles had found their final resting place in his hindquarters, a fact which became abundantly clear to Ocellus when he scooted towards the door and back into the house in a pained daze, right past a concerned Gallus and Smolder.
“Honey! Honey! Get down here quick!”
“Is… is it over?”
Sandbar’s warbly voice barely carried over the blaring alarm, and Smolder had to pace a bit to locate him. She didn’t spot him directly, but she had no trouble locating the mound of flesh and fur that was Yona huddled behind the gem matrix. An equine head poked over the body of the bigger yak, and when he saw that it was safe for the most part he trotted out to survey the damage, Yona hefting herself off the ground and following along.
“Yeah, I think we're good,” Smolder assured him. “And could somebody kill that alarm?”
“Working on it.”
Ocellus’s number one priority in any situation would always be the safety of those around her, especially that of her friends, but with Rover having run off and most of her friends being accounted for, the only thing she could do was to get the computer disconnected from mains power so that they all could function without disturbance. The klaxon ceased instantaneously when the power was cut, and she breathed a little sigh of relief.
All that could be heard beyond that point was a bellowing back-and-forth going on in the house and an odd scraping sound coming from above. All eyes slowly turned up towards the rafters to see a predatory figure clinging to the wooden supports. It was impossible to make out much more as it was behind the bright lights and wreathed in smoke, but it's less than graceful drop down to the floor gave no time for speculation.
Silverstream may have not been very close to the gem matrix when it exploded for the second time, but she still bore the aftereffects. Her mane had been blasted back and her face and clothing had been stained gray by the noxious fumes, and little puffs of smoke came out of her panting beak.
“I am,” Silverstream flashed her friends a disarming grin and lifted a talon. “I am okay.”
The nasty coughing fit the hippogriff then entered into suggested otherwise, and Smolder went quickly over to pat on her back. “You sure?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?! I got tiny gems in my ass!”
Everything became a bit of a blur to Ocellus beyond that point. Sandbar and Yona had gone into the house to see if they could help Rover. Smolder had opened the garage door to ventilate the shop and Gallus was out in the fresh air with Silverstream.
As the air nipped at her ears while she stared into the cabinet containing the matrix, a feeling of frustration overcame her. Oh, she so wanted to fix the old thing, but it was causing such a stir now that she just wanted to throw her hooves up and gallop away. And not that she had much choice in the matter anyway since Rover had exhausted all his usable gems trying to rectify the problem. No, there was no fixing it, at least not at the time and certainly not at the place.
Thoughts from early that morning about the trouble of keeping an aging system going, especially one which ran on gem tech, were in her mind again and the fact that this time there were actual injuries had turned her resolve away from finding a quick fix. It sounded like Silverstream’s cough had subsided and Rover’s injuries sounded quite painful but were ultimately superficial according to Sandbar, but these were her friends of old and possibly new, and no machine was worth more than that.
There was no need to vocalize her desires to pack up and go home as everyone else had come to the same understanding. Little words were exchanged as they all prepared the gem matrix for its likely final journey and as Sandbar and Gallus were the last inside they closed the door and exited through the house.
Gallus was more than happy to march right out the entry and carry on, his mind already on the next step, but Sandbar felt like something more should still be done. Rover ultimately didn’t charge them anything since he took responsibility for anything that happened under his watch, but the pony felt he was owed something for taking the time to try and fix their problem. A certain friend of his may not have whole-heartedly agreed, but that didn’t stop Sandbar from plucking a few bit coins out of his purse and depositing them on the counter.
Chapter 6 - Shops and Packing ( Part 2/3 )
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