Discordvania

Dead Beat made her way through the Iron doors of the marshmallow kingdom. She couldn't say she would miss the castle of candy, but it did worry her that the next door was iron. She had read books that had torture in them, and steel in a fluffy castle put her on edge. Or maybe it was the steel cliff-face she had just stepped over without thinking. With a squack she lost balance and fell, splashing down in a large vat of apple cider. She floated in it for a moment. This was, surprisingly, not the worst thing she had fallen into today. Hay, this wasn't the worst thing she had fallen into in the past hour. She took a small sip, only to spit it out. "Blech, this tastes awful!"

As if to spite her statement, an intercom blared out. "Now, y'all keep up the good work! We gotta get more of this Sweet Apple Acres Cider out for those thirsty ponies out there."

Scootaloo looked at the vat of absolutely awful Cider "Yeah, I'm sure ponies are dying to drink this swill." She swam to the edge of the vat and climbed into an industrial hell. Surrounding her were conveyor belts, making a criss-cross maze of spray nozzles, moving cans, and in the corner, a small office. Dead Beat zeroed in on that. Obviously, if she were an exit, that's where she'd be. She looked for any path through and paused at a conveyer belt in front of her. It didn't lead directly to the office, but it got her closer. That was good enough for the moment. She jumped on, pulling herself onto the belt as it snaked its way down. It railed against a wall, which gave Dead Beat a chance to look over the area from a better angle from her new perch, and tried to find a better route.

She saw another conveyer below her, where cans shot onto it before getting dropped into a massive crate. However, the crate was directly beside an open window into the office corner. So all she had to do was ride this conveyer until it reached the other one, and it'd be smooth sailing into the office and hopefully down into the next floor.

This revelation would have been sweeter if it wasn't for the fact that she was hit with a blast af cold cider that nearly threw her off her conveyer. She managed to weather the storm of cider by adopting the heroic pose used by such famous heroes as Scooby-Doo and rolled up in a little ball on the belt. While screaming. Honestly, it was a very heroic scream. Deep, guttural, a real Conan-esque thing. She would fight anyone who said otherwise. Judging from the laughs echoing through the chamber, Discord had heard her. So she amended the list. After today she would fight, almost anyone who said otherwise. She really didn't want to get locked in another dungeon.

When the jet of cider passed behind her she decided now would be a good time to actually check the conveyer she was on. You know, for anything like traps, or cider cannons. Or, in the case that she found herself in, a large number of cider nozzles spraying randomly across the belt like a drunk earth-ponies firework display. Her orange coat went a few shades paler. "Oh, Buck."

Before the rise of Discord, there was a book titled 'A Treatise On The Impossibility Of Pony Physioligy In Times Of Great Stress, Vol. 2'. Now this book was a dry read. Perhaps even drier than most math textbooks. However, it did cover one of those hidden facts of life that most ponies take for granted. When any pony is in a time of great stress, all natural laws go out the window. Dead Beat managed to live up to his hypothesis as the conveyer's inexorable march to her next jumping point. While ducking and diving through the nozzles spraying cider that would jet her to an inevitably messy end, she managed at least three poses that would end up with her spine shattered and one in which an average onlooker would believe her hoof had coiled all the way around her own barrel.

After the third nozzle, her luck ran out, with a spray managing to catch her tail. While this spray did not knock her to an inevitable fall into some unfortunate fate, ti did succeed in ruining her next dodge. Her momentum suddenly shifted. Instead of diving forward she began to spin, and the liquid coating the conveyer belt kept her hooves from gaining purchase. She let out a scream as she shot down the conveyor, rolling like a pinball as showers of cider and whirring machinery heralded her quickening journey to the end of the line. Until a buzzer sounded, and something slammed into Dead Beat's side. Her body jolted once in the opposite direction as she lost her only sense of direction. The ground flew out from under her, and suddenly she was airborne. her spin slowed as she tried to find her bearings.

Unfortunately, as soon as she could look again she fell onto another conveyor. The harsh landing on the rubber managed to ring her bell, and she simply laid still for a moment. After her breathing finally caught up she tried to sum up her current situation. "Ow," It was a very accurate statement.

She rose unsteadily and managed a smile to learn that she was on the belt she had been aiming for earlier. A glance upwards showed Discord laughing, and a large paddle floated beside him. "Horseapples." She shook it off as she looked down the belt. Cans were dropping onto the belt from various areas, which means that the slow, methodical approach would be smarter. Unfortunately, she had underestimated just how far the jump from the belt to the office window was. She was sure she could still make it, as long as she got a running start. However, that meant that she would have to run down the belt, dodge all the cans, and then jump through the window like a majestic cat. While covered in cider and limping from being thrown across the factory floor. In other words a perfect plan.

Dead Beat took a few steps back, before nodding once to herself. "Well, no time like the present, right?" She lowered herself before breaking out into a sprint. The shower of full cider cans were pelting her sides as she rushed through the belt. She reached the end of the line and jumped for all she was worth, feeling her wings strain against the fabric of her jester suit. One final can gave a parting shot directly into her flank, turning a beautifully executed jump into an office, into a head over heels fall that had her slowly land onto her rump after nearly landing on her head.

When she finally landed she was sitting in front of an orange mare who was looking at her with a rather unamused expression. "Well now, y'all ain't one o' my workers."

Dead Beat rubbed the back of her head with an embarrassed grin. "Uh, no. I am in fact, nopony's worker." She tried to stand up tall. "I'm a hero! Here to stop Discords reign of terror once and for all!"

The mare looked at her with a deadpan gaze. "And y'all are planning to do that by trespassing in my factory?"

Dead Beat paused, trying to come up with an answer that sounded halfway decent. "Well, he uh... kinda sent me here." Needless to say, she failed horribly. She perked up again. "But if I find my way through all his stupid tests I'll beat him for sure."

The mare simply raised an eyebrow. "Well ain't that sweet either way y'all need to find someplace to do it outside o' mah factory. Ah gotta get the ponies all that Sweet Apple Acres cider that they want."

Dead Beat looked at the mare, then at the factory filled with the cider. Well, cider might have been too kind a term. Swill was more accurate, the most accurate term was something that Dead Beats mother would disapprove of. Wherever she was. "So wait, ponies pay to drink that?"

The mare glared down at Dead Beat for a moment, before scoffing. "Course they do." She chewed her lip for a moment. "And don't go sayin' it's been tasting worse since I got this factory from Discord. Mah families cider is always the best!"

Dead Beat stuck out her tongue. "Look, lady, I don't know where you were taught to make cider, but if your families cider tastes like that crap I had to drink while I ran through your factory, then they taught you how to make horseapples!"

The mare looked taken aback, before leaning forward over her desk. "Now y'all can't come into my factory, and start spoutin' a bunch'a hooey like that!"

Dead Beat stood up tall. "Well, if it's a bunch of hooey, then why do I still want to chug marsh milk just to wash the taste of that horror drink out of my mouth?"

The mare stared at her hard. "Well, if'n that's how ya feel how abouts it, then how about you an' me take a little wager?"

Dead Beat stared at her, her own pride not allowing her to back down from such an obvious challenge. "You're on! What type of wager?"

The mare smiled wide. "If'n my cider's so bad, then we'll have a drink off, first one to finish a full can wins. If'n ah can't stomach my own brew, well ah 'reckon you're right."

Dead Beat nodded. "I can down a glass of your rotten cider and prove to you that your cider tastes like flank!"

The mare smirked, reaching under her desk and pulling out two cans. While they both looked normal, one was in a different color. Dead Beat looked at them while the mare put one of the cans in front of her.

Dead Beat stared at it as the mare shifted her eyes away. "Are you sure that these drinks are the same?"

The mare jumped up, planting her forehooves on the desk. "Are y'all calling me a liar!"

Dead Beat shrunk back, before remembering she was supposed to be a staunch hero. "Well if you aren't, then you wouldn't mind switching drinks with me. Surely you wouldn't try to pass off the bad cider on me in a fair competition?"

The mare shifted her eyes back an forth, before slowly swapping the drinks. "Yeah, what with all of the cider's being exactly the same it wouldn't be a problem at all."

Dead Beat nodded and grabbed the can with an easy smile. "Alright then, tell me when."

The orange mare glanced at her drink and took a readying gulp. "A-alright 3... 2... 1... GO!"

Scootaloo slammed the can back, fully expecting the taste of swill she got the first time. Instead, it was a wonderful cider. Cider that made her think of the few times a pony could actually make a meal without Discord changing ingredients randomly. She gulped it down greedily, happy to enjoy something delicious.

She dropped the empty can a moment later, looking to the orange mare with a raised eyebrow. The mare was gagging, a half-empty can spilled over her desk. Dead Beat smirked. "Ponies need that cider, huh?"

The mare coughed a few times, before sighing. "Well they did, but ah can't make the good stuff fast enough. So I make what Ah can, ain't nothing wrong with that."

Dead Beat looked around the office while talking to the mare. "Well I'm no huge judge, but it's gonna wreck your family name if you just make crap with it all over. Kinda ruins the family image right?"

The mare became enraged, bucking the desk away from herself and advancing on Dead Beat. "Why ah oughta!" But with each step she slowed. "Ah oughta... oughta listen to ya." The mare stopped and looked at Dead Beat. "Even if y'all are being a right pain yer speaken the truth. Like I oughta do. I reckon your being smarter than I was." The mare seemed to stand a bit taller. "And if yer gonna stand up to that varmint Discord ah should help. Now yah didn't hear it from me, but that door outta my office leads to a stairwell. That should let you mosey on."

Dead Beat smiled at the mare. Who knew helping ponies could make her so happy. Or maybe it was the cider. "Thanks, I'll call if I need a hand."

The mare seemed about to respond, but instead a bright white flash blinded Dead Beat. The mare was gone, and in her place was a necklace with three apples in the center. Dead Beat sighed and slipped the necklace into her Saddlebags."I swear if this is Discords idea of Jewelry shopping I'm gonna buck him so hard he'll turn normal."