Night Clerk Whoovesby No one is homeChaptersThe Trouble with FalloutSmaller on the OutsideReunions and ReprisalsAwkward ConversationsThe Trouble with FalloutI hate Equestrian Wastelands. Their lousy with fallout, for one, literally radiation everywhere. And don’t get me started on the fucking weather. But the worst thing is the damn ponies who show up at an all night caravan stop at 2 o’clock in the morning. Sun and Moon can’t keep a rhythm between the two, and somehow there’s still a two o’clock in the morning. And somehow there’s still a bar crowd, because despite the eternal nuclear hellscape, of course there’s still a bar right up the road. It really sucks to work the graveyard shift in a universe like this. Which is why they pay slightly better than average… once you figure in the exchange rate on bottle-caps… “Welcome to Slurp and Burp, I am the Night Clerk, how can I help you?” Obviously they’re about to rob the place, but the words kinda come with the job. “We keep fifty caps in the register and the Sales Clerk on duty does not have access to the safe” “I told you, Wacko,” the female raider whined, I noted her cutie mark was a crosshair on a pony silhouette. Pretty tame for a raider, but who was I to judge. Ain’t no good pony awake and refueling at two in the morning. I ain’t never been no different. “He got some way in the safe! Just shut up and keep pointing your bloody plasma on his head! You don’t open that safe and there ain’t gonna be nothing but goo to mop up!” His cutie mark was a stick, stabbing an eye. Now that’s the kinda mark I love in a universe like this. Easy to read as a headline, and as predictable as the rising sun. Which in these post-apocalyptic Equestias was is not actually very predictable. Sunrise... random as fuck… But I digress, and continue, “That sounds like the day shift’s problem. Obliously *I* ain’t gonna be mopping up that goo…” “Do you think I’m joking?!?!” Mr. Pokey Eye demanded. “Not really,” I tried not to roll my eyes, I really did, “But do you really think there’s such a thing as ‘more dead’? I mean. Gun size stopped being more intimidating like five sizes ago!” “Hey!” Eye Poke Objected as ‘sniper girl just kinda watched. “I ain’t…” “Don’t care… you want me to open the safe… I ain’t got a key.” I had to be grinning like the cat that didn’t get caught in nuclear flash. “But I do got a sonic pipe wrench… wanna see it?” “Wait a what?” The mare asked suddenly… I always had a soft spot for that pony curiousity. “Sonic Pipe Wrench,” I replied easily as I pulled my one tool from beneath the counter, “Believe it or don’t they actually used to make these in screwdrivers. But you trying buyin’ one of those on a sales clerks wage.” “It’s a funny story…” I shuck and/or jive because you gotta keep em’ talkin’. “Gator bits are actually pony on a stick.” Poor mare justs starts vomiting. Guess she’s bought lunch here before. Eye Poke got his eyes on the prize. “You can open the safe with that thing?” “Yeah, it kinda made me feel the same way when I found out. I mean, I really liked the gator bits. That’s another thing about this universe that I hate, you can’t never trust the mystery meat.” I activate the sonic pipe wrench, and it’s hard to tell which sound is more emotionally stimulating, the beep of my LAP (Pip Bucks are an inferior product don’t be fooled), or the noise of his gun’s battery draining. “So, the safe is open, there’s, like fifty caps in the register. Have fun robbing refueling points and raping each other.” “Where to you think your going,” The idiot stallion snarled, oddly still pointing his now useless gun at me. “I was thinking a 19.86% negative shift on the improbablity, 32% possitive on probability, maybe back about 200 years. Somewhere where your boss probably won’t turn out to be a casual canibal capitalist.” I shrug and laugh. “Wait, his gun doesn’t work?” The mare asks. “Neither does the bomb vest under your armor.” I reply as I walk to the door. “Sonic Pipe Wrench. Your welcome.” “Wait… what?” Those words, followed by the sound of an angry mare cursing and beating a raider to death is honestly the nicest thing I have to say about this universe. “Where do you think your going?” I almost made it to my ride before the mare caught up to me. Honestly gotta say I thought she’d spend more time kicking eye-stab-butt-mark. Girl works fast. “I told you, I’m skipping over a few universes.” I hate repeating myself. “Your world is a shit hole. I swear, it’s the Ashes of Everglow with more rape and cannibalism these parts. Why does anypony live here… oh yeah… no time machines…” “Take me with you.” I look back and realise how… young… she is… even by pony standards. And she wasn’t really going along with the robery… at all. “Oh sweet prozac,” I mutter as things add up, “No wonder he didn’t give you a loaded gun. Your not a raider, your just a filly.” “I’m not a filly!” The filly screams the most filly argument I’ve ever heard as I turn around and walk back in the store. “Of course not,” I roll my eyes as I grab a jug of warm booze off the nearest shelf, “Dammit, I am not gonna deal with this sober.” I toss some bottle caps on the counter as I walk back out the door. I walk to the broken down dump truck. “Diane, are you as tired of living here as I am? I’ve got a +1.” “That’s not a time machine. I’m not stupid. It’s a wrecked dump truck” The filly obviously thinks I should be on a watch list. “She smells.” My girl speaks up. “You are not keeping that stinky pony grub inside me.” “I’m not a grub… filly… I’m not a foal!” I remind myself that she doesn’t know just how small she is. Nine hells in the sun. “Wait, why did that dump truck just call me smelly?” “Lighten up, D. Obviously she has to take a shower.” I sigh and roll my eyes. “This is why no one gives their Tardis a voice interface.” “Who are you?” The young mare asks, as she stares blankly ahead. “I told you, I’m the Night Clerk,” I open Diane’s driver side door and gesture for my companion to step instead, “Don’t worry, it’s smaller on the outside.” Smaller on the Outside“This is amazing!” She’s a dull shade of teal, and gods of the daleks, she IS just a filly. Amazing the things you notice when a pony isn’t pointing a gun at your head. “Yes, well Gallopfrey technology being what it is, my girl is basically a series of pocket dimensions held together by…” I’m proud of Diane. She’s not a top of the line Tardis, but I was well on my way to paying her off when the planet got destroyed. I didn’t steal her like some… “Your time machine really is a garbage truck!” Okay, that was just unnecessary. “That’s it, you filthy larvae!” Dammit, not even five seconds and she’s already pissed off Diane. “You’re getting the industrial scrubdown, right now!” “Hey! Help! I’m being foal napped by a robot dump-truck!” Honestly, does she think I can help? “Is it really necessary to cart her to the sanitizer with the graspers, Diane?” I try to reason with her, really I do. “Yes,” Diane snaps back, “Yes it is! She has the nerve to call MY interior messy? Look at her! She hasn’t bathed in weeks and she’s mildly radioactive!” “Fair point,” I nod absently, “Sorry, but your just gonna have to go with it and learn to be more polite to Diane. I mean, she provides us with a six dimensional living space and means of transportation.” “And I’m damn sexy, to boot!” Because dammit, I gave the Doctor a ride ONE time, and he puts these ideas in her head. Not everypony wants to make things weird with their TARDIS. “I’m being foalnapped by a mad stallion and a perverted-robot-dump-truck!” My new assistant screams helplessly as she’s carted off to her squeaky clean fate. -=-=-=-=- “Oh dear,” the brown earth pony stallion muttered. “One of you things went ‘ding’,” Ditzy Muffins Hooves pointed out helpfully. “That’s the Time Lord Detector… is The Master in our universe?” Roseluck Queried. “Oooo, Missy’s visiting again?” Ditzy perked up. “No..it’s the OTHER, other bloody Time Lord, it’s The Night Clerk…” The Doctor sighed. “Wait The Night Clerk is who, exactly?” Roseluck cocked her head to one side curiously. “Really, Rose?” The Doctor deadpanned. “Seriously, There’s a Time Lord whose destiny is to be the Night Clerk of the multiversiverse?” Ditsy confusedly inquired while wandering in mid air in a tangle of wires. “It’s not that simple,” The Doctor pleaded for mercy from his companions. “He’s my stepbrother. What? It’s a perfectly normal thing to have a step brother.” “So he’s probably here to borrow money?” RoseLuck deadpanned. “It’s more complicated than that,” The Doctor sighed. “So he probably also needs a place to stay for a while?” Derpy queried with a curious cock of the head. -=-=-=-=- “So why’s it look like a dump truck?” The young mare, inquired once we had both unstinkified ourselves from the Equestrian Wasteland. “My name is Diane, Missy!” My tardis replies in her sassiest voice. “Well it’s not like you ever use MY name! Neither of you have even asked my name!” My pint sized assistant fires back. I swear she looked way taller than that when she was pointing a gun at me… “That’s because you need a slightly psychic name tag.” Why didn’t I think of that sooner? “Okay, now two questions,” the filly replies, “Why’s Diane look like a dump truck, and what in tartarus is a slightly psychic name tag?” “Diane? If you would explain your half of that question, I need to see if we have a subliminally generic work vest in her size.” I pass the buck and go about looking for the things. -=-=-=-=- “So…” The filly expositions, because of course she does, “The first place you parked was a garbage dump? So you’re always disguised as a garbage truck, now? I’m sorry but that’s funny.” “Yes, I am stuck in this indigenous shape because that’s where I started,” Diane grouses, predictably, “Would you like to go back to how we found you? I CAN reverse the showers…” “I’m sorry, but, you know it’s funny!” The filly laughs, and I gotta admit she’s got a point. “And what are you gonna do? Make me stink up your interior again?” “Night Clerk!” Diane pleades in vain. “Sorry, girl, but she got ya.” The chuckle just comes out, all natural like. “She got ya fair and square. Filly earned her name tag. What’s your name?” “I’ve been calling her Missy this whole time,” My lovely assistant/faithful steed states flatly. “Wait… that’s actually her name?” I’m… actually incredulous. “Wait… you weren’t just calling me that?” Apparently the filly apparently named Missy didn’t see that coming either. “I’m good at naming things.” Diane quips, and it’s kinda hard to argue that… “Your name tag means you work there,” I try to explain, with limited success, “‘There being where-ever you are at the time.” “We can’t just drop her off.” Dammit Diane,again, THIS is why speech interface never caught on. “We’re NOT just ‘dropping her off’, Diane!” I feel bad that she’s right there. “We’re gonna leave her with the Doctor. You know… my brother from another set of parents entirely?!?! He’s got a good track record.” “Wait, you’re planning on dumping me off with you brother?” Okay, Missy is annoyed, and that’s to be expected. “Step brother, you missed the ‘from another set of parents entirely’ part.” I don’t know why I think that makes it better. “Trust me, he’s a doctor. Not sure what he’s a doctor of, really, but that’s beside the point. He has a residence in a baseline Equestria. And he’s respectable enough people won’t ask weird questions if he’s got an underage filly following him around.” “Wow, Nighty, you actually made some pretty good points.” And of course now Diane comes to my “defense”. Stupid sass talking TARDIS. -=-=-=-=- “Doctor?” Ditzy’s eyes crossed at random as she winced. “Why is that TARDIS that’s shaped like a dump truck playing dubstep?” “Because my step brother thought it would camouflage the sound of his TARDIS entering proper space time.” The Doctor sighed heavily, shaking his head in annoyance. “Heh,actually, it kinda works.” RoseLuck grinned. “If I didn’t know to expect a TARDIS I’d just assume Vinyl was throwing another mobile rave.” “Let’s just get this over with,” the earth pony time lord replied as he steeled himself for the impending awkward reunion. Reunions and Reprisals“Bollocks! And he’s got some random filly with him,” The Doctor rolled his eyes as he observed drily, as the Night Clerk and his assistant stepped out of the dump truck, “Because, of course he does.” “Is your step brother some kind of weirdo fillyphile?” Derpy narrowed her eyes. “Because I have a daughter to think about.” “No, no!” The doctor pressed his hoof against the bridge of his snout. “It’s nothing like that. He picks up random refugees from space time and drags them around like some kind of side kick on his zany adventures. It’s sad really.” Rose and Ditzy shared and annoyed glance, before Rose spoke up, “Aside from introducing pots to kettles and being mildly insulted… she still seems kinda young to be a companion.” “Hi, I’m Missy and I’m totally eighteen!” The teal filly said with a wave and a smile. “Seems perfectly legit to me, are you a travelling sales mare,” Ditzy replied with a smile. “Really Night Clerk?” The Doctor scowled. “Psychic Name Tags? You know psychic paper is far more versatile.” “If you want to keep shoving paper in ponies faces all day, sure.” The Night Clerk snapped back. “Name tag, ’Hello, call me this, I’m supposed to be here’. Simple, to the point, and you won’t have to repeatedly show it off. The Psychic Name Tag is a superior product!” “So, uh Missy, huh?” Roseluck asked skeptically. “And I am 18 years old!” The filly smiled brightly. “Yeah,” the flower pony rolled her eyes, “I’m not buying it.” “I told you, don’t claim a specific age!” The Night Clerk hissed. “The name tag only has a fairly narrow functionality.” He spun quickly on the smirking doctor. “In which it functions EXCELLENTLY!” “Yes, well, aside from your dreadful tastes in technology, introductions are in order.” The Doctor sighed. “Night Clerk, these charming young mares are my traveling companions, RoseLuck and Ditzy Doo. Ladies, This is my step brother the Night Clerk, and it seems like you already met Miss… Missy.” “Yeah, you know what makes introductions easier?” The Night Clerk grinned widely. “Name tags.” -=-=-=-=- Well, that’s bollocks. My step brother already has two companions. And they’re both mares. Now if he takes Missy it’ll look like he’s building an oddly specific harem. Two minutes in and the whole plan is shot all to tartarus. “So…” The grey one gives me the most oddly specific pointed look. And no, not because it’s pointed in two different directions. “Why exactly are you travelling through space and time with an underage filly, Mr. Night Clerk?” Great, and now my step brother’s companion thinks I’m some kind of weirdo. “Look, I know how it looks, but I couldn’t just leave her stranded in an atomic wasteland. I mean she had already been pressed into one raider gang. And to be fair to me, I thought she was older than that when she was trying to rob me.” Honesty is always the best policy. “Trying to rob you???” Rose pony seems more distraught by this than I would have expected. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s hyperventilating right now… “Pressed into a gang?” Grey pony gasps in appropriate horror. “You poor thing.” “If you try to hug me I will break you legs.” The filly’s got spunk, I’ll give her that. “Wait… so you rescued an orphan from a life of crime?” Is that actual pride I see in my step brother’s cold brown eyes? “I’m not an orphan.” And thank you for ruining the moment, Missy. “In my defense… it’s safe to say she had terrible parents.” Grey pony is now giving me and a random pony walking down the street a full on stink eye. “I mean… okay, so I forgot to ask a few questions before I gave her a ride to a nicer universe… like her age… and if she had parents…” “And my name!” Missy continues to make me doubt the wisdom of recent decisions. “You totally never got around to asking my name until you gave me the name tag.” “Look, I know how it looks!” Nightmare in the moon, do I know how this looks. “That’s why brought her here first off. I mean, Doctor, you’re like the most respected time lord in… basically everywhere! I mean, I figured maybe you could help the poor filly find some kind of moral compass.” “While I appreciate the sentiment, you can’t just leave her here with me.” And thank you for pointing out the problem. “I know, you’ve already got two mares hanging around you all the time, if we take in a filly ponies might think you’re building an oddly specific harem.” At least rose pony gets it. “What? No! I mean you have to take her back!” Of course he’d say that. “You can’t just bring a pony from one period of time and drop them off in another. It makes the whole timeline all wibbly wobbly!” “It’s okay.” And the filly who can’t shut up, still can’t shut up. “I’m not from this timeline. Diane explained the whole thing to me on the ride over here.” “Okay, I know what you're gonna say…” I really do. “You’ve been going to alternate timelines! Are you insane?” And I was right. “You know the multiverse was thrown into flux in the time war!” “”Look, it’s a lot safer lately since that weird space-time… thingy… split the mainline timestream” I very rationally don’t yell in his face. “Space time thingy? Really?” I’m 100% sure I will NEVER get tired of Missy’s adorable snark. “To be fair, he didn’t learn actually technical terminology like ‘wibbly wobbly’ in medical school, like the doctor.” I honestly can’t tell which one of us grey pony just burned… “Look I’m trying to make a point here!” Really, I’m trying very hard. “The point is it’s not that bad traveling between parallel universes anymore. Just keep it to the probability axis, and you’ll be fine… probably… assuming you didn’t steal your tardis from a museum…” “I hardly think breaking the laws of space and time slightly more than usual is the problem here! This filly…” Yeah grey pony’s not letting this go. “NO!” The Doctor proclaims like he just loves to proclaim things. “Ditzy, escort Missy to the TARDIS! We are going to an alternate reality!” Awkward Conversations“I’m not going back!” Grey mare’s eyes can align properly, it turns out. At least they can when a filly presses a gun to the back of her head. “Even I can’t miss from this close.” Well we can add, “Tell Diane to search missy for hold out weapons,” to the list of things I forgot to think about. If I’m being honest I’m not having the best week of night clerking. Why did I take a job in an irradiated Equestrian wasteland? Sure, the pay is decent, and the shifts are interesting, but then your boss turns out to be a cannibal and you accidently foal-nap a psychotic filly. Or maybe that’s just me. “Now, miss…” And my oh so glorious step brother messes up her name. I mean honestly, that’s why I gave her a name tag. And the tag itself is slightly psychic, so there’s really no excuse. “It’s MISSY! Missy Shots! How could you not remember that? I even have a name tag!” See the filly even get’s it. “I’m not going back there! Not ever! How can you show me somewhere that’s green and alive and not poisoned and then tell me I have to go back there?!” “B-but, you have parents, a family that loves you… misses you.” My step brother’s cross eyed companion pleads pretty calmly for having a gun to her head. She’d make a good night clerk. “Is that what you think? Who do you think put me in a bomb vest?” I’m honestly shocked at her vitriol. “I followed a random night clerk to get away from everything there. Honestly I thought he was likely just a weirdo with a dump truck, but snogging some weirdo for a ride was better than staying where I was! Then I find out he just wanted to drop me off with you wankers!” “Missy… I just wanted to put you in a good spot.” I explain in my calmest, most rational words. “Me and Diane don’t exactly live the most stable of lives.” “Yes, you live in places like I come from, just on a lark!” I can see tears in her eyes, and it hurts, because she’s not wrong. “You always had the choice to leave. I wasn’t there on a lark! I didn’’t have a choice to just leave! You can’t give me that and then take it away!” The hum of a sonic tool, but not mine pierces the air. “Missy, lass, nopony here is going to force you to go anywhere you don’t want to.” “And you shouldn’t have to ‘snog’ with anypony just to get away.” I’m pretty one of her eyes is looking at me on purpose. The other is looking across the street. That is fascinating and I am fascinated. Does she have chameleon eyes? “It’s not like that!” My huff expresses genuine exasperation. “Okay, I made some mistakes! I probably asked less questions than I should have! At no point was anypony at all inappropriate with Missy!” “You’re time machine stripped me naked and forcibly bathed me!” Missy fumes in righteous indignation. “Firstly Diane is not a pony.” I helpfully point out. “Secondly… she does that sometimes, you get used to it.” “The horror!” The Doctor’s rose colored mare-companion just passes out on the spot. “She does that sometimes.” My step brother and his cross-eyed companion say at the same time. “I can’t bail you out on this, brother.” He’s using the ‘sad doctor’ voice. That never means good news. “You can’t just set her loose on any odd world as she is. She’s dangerous, not only to the populace at large, but potentially to herself. And it would be cruel to take her back where you found her. She’s your companion now. You have to make this right.” He’s being really reasonable, I know it looks that way. “Like I just always ask you to bail me out, Mr. La De Da, ‘I have a time lord PHD’?! ONE of us got a job! The other one stole a TARDIS from a museum and went off chasing space whales, or whatever it is you do! And yet somehow YOU’RE the responsible one!?” “You abandoned your responsibility as a Time Lord to go play at being a late night sales clerk!” And my brother just said the magic words, and It. Is. On. “Responsible Time Lords like you started the time war.” Every other problem is gone now. This is why I hate visiting my brother. It always comes down to this. “Responsible Time lords like you personally destroyed our home planet. Do you know who didn’t destroy our home planet? The Master. Or Mistress? Does she still go by ‘Missy’, because that’s going to get confusing?” “Do they always do this?” Missy asks in the background. “This is the first time I’ve met your time lord… but yeah, the Doctor does this a lot.” The cross-eyed mare sighs. “You know you’re gun is useless, right? You could stop pointing it at my head.” “Yeah, I’ve seen how those sonic sticks work. But we had such a great hostage dynamic going. I didn’t want to let it go. You what they say, a hostage is a friend who doesn’t have a choice.” Okay, maybe my brother has a point about her… Author's Note The Night Clerk is back.
The Trouble with FalloutI hate Equestrian Wastelands. Their lousy with fallout, for one, literally radiation everywhere. And don’t get me started on the fucking weather. But the worst thing is the damn ponies who show up at an all night caravan stop at 2 o’clock in the morning. Sun and Moon can’t keep a rhythm between the two, and somehow there’s still a two o’clock in the morning. And somehow there’s still a bar crowd, because despite the eternal nuclear hellscape, of course there’s still a bar right up the road. It really sucks to work the graveyard shift in a universe like this. Which is why they pay slightly better than average… once you figure in the exchange rate on bottle-caps… “Welcome to Slurp and Burp, I am the Night Clerk, how can I help you?” Obviously they’re about to rob the place, but the words kinda come with the job. “We keep fifty caps in the register and the Sales Clerk on duty does not have access to the safe” “I told you, Wacko,” the female raider whined, I noted her cutie mark was a crosshair on a pony silhouette. Pretty tame for a raider, but who was I to judge. Ain’t no good pony awake and refueling at two in the morning. I ain’t never been no different. “He got some way in the safe! Just shut up and keep pointing your bloody plasma on his head! You don’t open that safe and there ain’t gonna be nothing but goo to mop up!” His cutie mark was a stick, stabbing an eye. Now that’s the kinda mark I love in a universe like this. Easy to read as a headline, and as predictable as the rising sun. Which in these post-apocalyptic Equestias was is not actually very predictable. Sunrise... random as fuck… But I digress, and continue, “That sounds like the day shift’s problem. Obliously *I* ain’t gonna be mopping up that goo…” “Do you think I’m joking?!?!” Mr. Pokey Eye demanded. “Not really,” I tried not to roll my eyes, I really did, “But do you really think there’s such a thing as ‘more dead’? I mean. Gun size stopped being more intimidating like five sizes ago!” “Hey!” Eye Poke Objected as ‘sniper girl just kinda watched. “I ain’t…” “Don’t care… you want me to open the safe… I ain’t got a key.” I had to be grinning like the cat that didn’t get caught in nuclear flash. “But I do got a sonic pipe wrench… wanna see it?” “Wait a what?” The mare asked suddenly… I always had a soft spot for that pony curiousity. “Sonic Pipe Wrench,” I replied easily as I pulled my one tool from beneath the counter, “Believe it or don’t they actually used to make these in screwdrivers. But you trying buyin’ one of those on a sales clerks wage.” “It’s a funny story…” I shuck and/or jive because you gotta keep em’ talkin’. “Gator bits are actually pony on a stick.” Poor mare justs starts vomiting. Guess she’s bought lunch here before. Eye Poke got his eyes on the prize. “You can open the safe with that thing?” “Yeah, it kinda made me feel the same way when I found out. I mean, I really liked the gator bits. That’s another thing about this universe that I hate, you can’t never trust the mystery meat.” I activate the sonic pipe wrench, and it’s hard to tell which sound is more emotionally stimulating, the beep of my LAP (Pip Bucks are an inferior product don’t be fooled), or the noise of his gun’s battery draining. “So, the safe is open, there’s, like fifty caps in the register. Have fun robbing refueling points and raping each other.” “Where to you think your going,” The idiot stallion snarled, oddly still pointing his now useless gun at me. “I was thinking a 19.86% negative shift on the improbablity, 32% possitive on probability, maybe back about 200 years. Somewhere where your boss probably won’t turn out to be a casual canibal capitalist.” I shrug and laugh. “Wait, his gun doesn’t work?” The mare asks. “Neither does the bomb vest under your armor.” I reply as I walk to the door. “Sonic Pipe Wrench. Your welcome.” “Wait… what?” Those words, followed by the sound of an angry mare cursing and beating a raider to death is honestly the nicest thing I have to say about this universe. “Where do you think your going?” I almost made it to my ride before the mare caught up to me. Honestly gotta say I thought she’d spend more time kicking eye-stab-butt-mark. Girl works fast. “I told you, I’m skipping over a few universes.” I hate repeating myself. “Your world is a shit hole. I swear, it’s the Ashes of Everglow with more rape and cannibalism these parts. Why does anypony live here… oh yeah… no time machines…” “Take me with you.” I look back and realise how… young… she is… even by pony standards. And she wasn’t really going along with the robery… at all. “Oh sweet prozac,” I mutter as things add up, “No wonder he didn’t give you a loaded gun. Your not a raider, your just a filly.” “I’m not a filly!” The filly screams the most filly argument I’ve ever heard as I turn around and walk back in the store. “Of course not,” I roll my eyes as I grab a jug of warm booze off the nearest shelf, “Dammit, I am not gonna deal with this sober.” I toss some bottle caps on the counter as I walk back out the door. I walk to the broken down dump truck. “Diane, are you as tired of living here as I am? I’ve got a +1.” “That’s not a time machine. I’m not stupid. It’s a wrecked dump truck” The filly obviously thinks I should be on a watch list. “She smells.” My girl speaks up. “You are not keeping that stinky pony grub inside me.” “I’m not a grub… filly… I’m not a foal!” I remind myself that she doesn’t know just how small she is. Nine hells in the sun. “Wait, why did that dump truck just call me smelly?” “Lighten up, D. Obviously she has to take a shower.” I sigh and roll my eyes. “This is why no one gives their Tardis a voice interface.” “Who are you?” The young mare asks, as she stares blankly ahead. “I told you, I’m the Night Clerk,” I open Diane’s driver side door and gesture for my companion to step instead, “Don’t worry, it’s smaller on the outside.”
Smaller on the Outside“This is amazing!” She’s a dull shade of teal, and gods of the daleks, she IS just a filly. Amazing the things you notice when a pony isn’t pointing a gun at your head. “Yes, well Gallopfrey technology being what it is, my girl is basically a series of pocket dimensions held together by…” I’m proud of Diane. She’s not a top of the line Tardis, but I was well on my way to paying her off when the planet got destroyed. I didn’t steal her like some… “Your time machine really is a garbage truck!” Okay, that was just unnecessary. “That’s it, you filthy larvae!” Dammit, not even five seconds and she’s already pissed off Diane. “You’re getting the industrial scrubdown, right now!” “Hey! Help! I’m being foal napped by a robot dump-truck!” Honestly, does she think I can help? “Is it really necessary to cart her to the sanitizer with the graspers, Diane?” I try to reason with her, really I do. “Yes,” Diane snaps back, “Yes it is! She has the nerve to call MY interior messy? Look at her! She hasn’t bathed in weeks and she’s mildly radioactive!” “Fair point,” I nod absently, “Sorry, but your just gonna have to go with it and learn to be more polite to Diane. I mean, she provides us with a six dimensional living space and means of transportation.” “And I’m damn sexy, to boot!” Because dammit, I gave the Doctor a ride ONE time, and he puts these ideas in her head. Not everypony wants to make things weird with their TARDIS. “I’m being foalnapped by a mad stallion and a perverted-robot-dump-truck!” My new assistant screams helplessly as she’s carted off to her squeaky clean fate. -=-=-=-=- “Oh dear,” the brown earth pony stallion muttered. “One of you things went ‘ding’,” Ditzy Muffins Hooves pointed out helpfully. “That’s the Time Lord Detector… is The Master in our universe?” Roseluck Queried. “Oooo, Missy’s visiting again?” Ditzy perked up. “No..it’s the OTHER, other bloody Time Lord, it’s The Night Clerk…” The Doctor sighed. “Wait The Night Clerk is who, exactly?” Roseluck cocked her head to one side curiously. “Really, Rose?” The Doctor deadpanned. “Seriously, There’s a Time Lord whose destiny is to be the Night Clerk of the multiversiverse?” Ditsy confusedly inquired while wandering in mid air in a tangle of wires. “It’s not that simple,” The Doctor pleaded for mercy from his companions. “He’s my stepbrother. What? It’s a perfectly normal thing to have a step brother.” “So he’s probably here to borrow money?” RoseLuck deadpanned. “It’s more complicated than that,” The Doctor sighed. “So he probably also needs a place to stay for a while?” Derpy queried with a curious cock of the head. -=-=-=-=- “So why’s it look like a dump truck?” The young mare, inquired once we had both unstinkified ourselves from the Equestrian Wasteland. “My name is Diane, Missy!” My tardis replies in her sassiest voice. “Well it’s not like you ever use MY name! Neither of you have even asked my name!” My pint sized assistant fires back. I swear she looked way taller than that when she was pointing a gun at me… “That’s because you need a slightly psychic name tag.” Why didn’t I think of that sooner? “Okay, now two questions,” the filly replies, “Why’s Diane look like a dump truck, and what in tartarus is a slightly psychic name tag?” “Diane? If you would explain your half of that question, I need to see if we have a subliminally generic work vest in her size.” I pass the buck and go about looking for the things. -=-=-=-=- “So…” The filly expositions, because of course she does, “The first place you parked was a garbage dump? So you’re always disguised as a garbage truck, now? I’m sorry but that’s funny.” “Yes, I am stuck in this indigenous shape because that’s where I started,” Diane grouses, predictably, “Would you like to go back to how we found you? I CAN reverse the showers…” “I’m sorry, but, you know it’s funny!” The filly laughs, and I gotta admit she’s got a point. “And what are you gonna do? Make me stink up your interior again?” “Night Clerk!” Diane pleades in vain. “Sorry, girl, but she got ya.” The chuckle just comes out, all natural like. “She got ya fair and square. Filly earned her name tag. What’s your name?” “I’ve been calling her Missy this whole time,” My lovely assistant/faithful steed states flatly. “Wait… that’s actually her name?” I’m… actually incredulous. “Wait… you weren’t just calling me that?” Apparently the filly apparently named Missy didn’t see that coming either. “I’m good at naming things.” Diane quips, and it’s kinda hard to argue that… “Your name tag means you work there,” I try to explain, with limited success, “‘There being where-ever you are at the time.” “We can’t just drop her off.” Dammit Diane,again, THIS is why speech interface never caught on. “We’re NOT just ‘dropping her off’, Diane!” I feel bad that she’s right there. “We’re gonna leave her with the Doctor. You know… my brother from another set of parents entirely?!?! He’s got a good track record.” “Wait, you’re planning on dumping me off with you brother?” Okay, Missy is annoyed, and that’s to be expected. “Step brother, you missed the ‘from another set of parents entirely’ part.” I don’t know why I think that makes it better. “Trust me, he’s a doctor. Not sure what he’s a doctor of, really, but that’s beside the point. He has a residence in a baseline Equestria. And he’s respectable enough people won’t ask weird questions if he’s got an underage filly following him around.” “Wow, Nighty, you actually made some pretty good points.” And of course now Diane comes to my “defense”. Stupid sass talking TARDIS. -=-=-=-=- “Doctor?” Ditzy’s eyes crossed at random as she winced. “Why is that TARDIS that’s shaped like a dump truck playing dubstep?” “Because my step brother thought it would camouflage the sound of his TARDIS entering proper space time.” The Doctor sighed heavily, shaking his head in annoyance. “Heh,actually, it kinda works.” RoseLuck grinned. “If I didn’t know to expect a TARDIS I’d just assume Vinyl was throwing another mobile rave.” “Let’s just get this over with,” the earth pony time lord replied as he steeled himself for the impending awkward reunion.
Reunions and Reprisals“Bollocks! And he’s got some random filly with him,” The Doctor rolled his eyes as he observed drily, as the Night Clerk and his assistant stepped out of the dump truck, “Because, of course he does.” “Is your step brother some kind of weirdo fillyphile?” Derpy narrowed her eyes. “Because I have a daughter to think about.” “No, no!” The doctor pressed his hoof against the bridge of his snout. “It’s nothing like that. He picks up random refugees from space time and drags them around like some kind of side kick on his zany adventures. It’s sad really.” Rose and Ditzy shared and annoyed glance, before Rose spoke up, “Aside from introducing pots to kettles and being mildly insulted… she still seems kinda young to be a companion.” “Hi, I’m Missy and I’m totally eighteen!” The teal filly said with a wave and a smile. “Seems perfectly legit to me, are you a travelling sales mare,” Ditzy replied with a smile. “Really Night Clerk?” The Doctor scowled. “Psychic Name Tags? You know psychic paper is far more versatile.” “If you want to keep shoving paper in ponies faces all day, sure.” The Night Clerk snapped back. “Name tag, ’Hello, call me this, I’m supposed to be here’. Simple, to the point, and you won’t have to repeatedly show it off. The Psychic Name Tag is a superior product!” “So, uh Missy, huh?” Roseluck asked skeptically. “And I am 18 years old!” The filly smiled brightly. “Yeah,” the flower pony rolled her eyes, “I’m not buying it.” “I told you, don’t claim a specific age!” The Night Clerk hissed. “The name tag only has a fairly narrow functionality.” He spun quickly on the smirking doctor. “In which it functions EXCELLENTLY!” “Yes, well, aside from your dreadful tastes in technology, introductions are in order.” The Doctor sighed. “Night Clerk, these charming young mares are my traveling companions, RoseLuck and Ditzy Doo. Ladies, This is my step brother the Night Clerk, and it seems like you already met Miss… Missy.” “Yeah, you know what makes introductions easier?” The Night Clerk grinned widely. “Name tags.” -=-=-=-=- Well, that’s bollocks. My step brother already has two companions. And they’re both mares. Now if he takes Missy it’ll look like he’s building an oddly specific harem. Two minutes in and the whole plan is shot all to tartarus. “So…” The grey one gives me the most oddly specific pointed look. And no, not because it’s pointed in two different directions. “Why exactly are you travelling through space and time with an underage filly, Mr. Night Clerk?” Great, and now my step brother’s companion thinks I’m some kind of weirdo. “Look, I know how it looks, but I couldn’t just leave her stranded in an atomic wasteland. I mean she had already been pressed into one raider gang. And to be fair to me, I thought she was older than that when she was trying to rob me.” Honesty is always the best policy. “Trying to rob you???” Rose pony seems more distraught by this than I would have expected. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s hyperventilating right now… “Pressed into a gang?” Grey pony gasps in appropriate horror. “You poor thing.” “If you try to hug me I will break you legs.” The filly’s got spunk, I’ll give her that. “Wait… so you rescued an orphan from a life of crime?” Is that actual pride I see in my step brother’s cold brown eyes? “I’m not an orphan.” And thank you for ruining the moment, Missy. “In my defense… it’s safe to say she had terrible parents.” Grey pony is now giving me and a random pony walking down the street a full on stink eye. “I mean… okay, so I forgot to ask a few questions before I gave her a ride to a nicer universe… like her age… and if she had parents…” “And my name!” Missy continues to make me doubt the wisdom of recent decisions. “You totally never got around to asking my name until you gave me the name tag.” “Look, I know how it looks!” Nightmare in the moon, do I know how this looks. “That’s why brought her here first off. I mean, Doctor, you’re like the most respected time lord in… basically everywhere! I mean, I figured maybe you could help the poor filly find some kind of moral compass.” “While I appreciate the sentiment, you can’t just leave her here with me.” And thank you for pointing out the problem. “I know, you’ve already got two mares hanging around you all the time, if we take in a filly ponies might think you’re building an oddly specific harem.” At least rose pony gets it. “What? No! I mean you have to take her back!” Of course he’d say that. “You can’t just bring a pony from one period of time and drop them off in another. It makes the whole timeline all wibbly wobbly!” “It’s okay.” And the filly who can’t shut up, still can’t shut up. “I’m not from this timeline. Diane explained the whole thing to me on the ride over here.” “Okay, I know what you're gonna say…” I really do. “You’ve been going to alternate timelines! Are you insane?” And I was right. “You know the multiverse was thrown into flux in the time war!” “”Look, it’s a lot safer lately since that weird space-time… thingy… split the mainline timestream” I very rationally don’t yell in his face. “Space time thingy? Really?” I’m 100% sure I will NEVER get tired of Missy’s adorable snark. “To be fair, he didn’t learn actually technical terminology like ‘wibbly wobbly’ in medical school, like the doctor.” I honestly can’t tell which one of us grey pony just burned… “Look I’m trying to make a point here!” Really, I’m trying very hard. “The point is it’s not that bad traveling between parallel universes anymore. Just keep it to the probability axis, and you’ll be fine… probably… assuming you didn’t steal your tardis from a museum…” “I hardly think breaking the laws of space and time slightly more than usual is the problem here! This filly…” Yeah grey pony’s not letting this go. “NO!” The Doctor proclaims like he just loves to proclaim things. “Ditzy, escort Missy to the TARDIS! We are going to an alternate reality!”
Awkward Conversations“I’m not going back!” Grey mare’s eyes can align properly, it turns out. At least they can when a filly presses a gun to the back of her head. “Even I can’t miss from this close.” Well we can add, “Tell Diane to search missy for hold out weapons,” to the list of things I forgot to think about. If I’m being honest I’m not having the best week of night clerking. Why did I take a job in an irradiated Equestrian wasteland? Sure, the pay is decent, and the shifts are interesting, but then your boss turns out to be a cannibal and you accidently foal-nap a psychotic filly. Or maybe that’s just me. “Now, miss…” And my oh so glorious step brother messes up her name. I mean honestly, that’s why I gave her a name tag. And the tag itself is slightly psychic, so there’s really no excuse. “It’s MISSY! Missy Shots! How could you not remember that? I even have a name tag!” See the filly even get’s it. “I’m not going back there! Not ever! How can you show me somewhere that’s green and alive and not poisoned and then tell me I have to go back there?!” “B-but, you have parents, a family that loves you… misses you.” My step brother’s cross eyed companion pleads pretty calmly for having a gun to her head. She’d make a good night clerk. “Is that what you think? Who do you think put me in a bomb vest?” I’m honestly shocked at her vitriol. “I followed a random night clerk to get away from everything there. Honestly I thought he was likely just a weirdo with a dump truck, but snogging some weirdo for a ride was better than staying where I was! Then I find out he just wanted to drop me off with you wankers!” “Missy… I just wanted to put you in a good spot.” I explain in my calmest, most rational words. “Me and Diane don’t exactly live the most stable of lives.” “Yes, you live in places like I come from, just on a lark!” I can see tears in her eyes, and it hurts, because she’s not wrong. “You always had the choice to leave. I wasn’t there on a lark! I didn’’t have a choice to just leave! You can’t give me that and then take it away!” The hum of a sonic tool, but not mine pierces the air. “Missy, lass, nopony here is going to force you to go anywhere you don’t want to.” “And you shouldn’t have to ‘snog’ with anypony just to get away.” I’m pretty one of her eyes is looking at me on purpose. The other is looking across the street. That is fascinating and I am fascinated. Does she have chameleon eyes? “It’s not like that!” My huff expresses genuine exasperation. “Okay, I made some mistakes! I probably asked less questions than I should have! At no point was anypony at all inappropriate with Missy!” “You’re time machine stripped me naked and forcibly bathed me!” Missy fumes in righteous indignation. “Firstly Diane is not a pony.” I helpfully point out. “Secondly… she does that sometimes, you get used to it.” “The horror!” The Doctor’s rose colored mare-companion just passes out on the spot. “She does that sometimes.” My step brother and his cross-eyed companion say at the same time. “I can’t bail you out on this, brother.” He’s using the ‘sad doctor’ voice. That never means good news. “You can’t just set her loose on any odd world as she is. She’s dangerous, not only to the populace at large, but potentially to herself. And it would be cruel to take her back where you found her. She’s your companion now. You have to make this right.” He’s being really reasonable, I know it looks that way. “Like I just always ask you to bail me out, Mr. La De Da, ‘I have a time lord PHD’?! ONE of us got a job! The other one stole a TARDIS from a museum and went off chasing space whales, or whatever it is you do! And yet somehow YOU’RE the responsible one!?” “You abandoned your responsibility as a Time Lord to go play at being a late night sales clerk!” And my brother just said the magic words, and It. Is. On. “Responsible Time Lords like you started the time war.” Every other problem is gone now. This is why I hate visiting my brother. It always comes down to this. “Responsible Time lords like you personally destroyed our home planet. Do you know who didn’t destroy our home planet? The Master. Or Mistress? Does she still go by ‘Missy’, because that’s going to get confusing?” “Do they always do this?” Missy asks in the background. “This is the first time I’ve met your time lord… but yeah, the Doctor does this a lot.” The cross-eyed mare sighs. “You know you’re gun is useless, right? You could stop pointing it at my head.” “Yeah, I’ve seen how those sonic sticks work. But we had such a great hostage dynamic going. I didn’t want to let it go. You what they say, a hostage is a friend who doesn’t have a choice.” Okay, maybe my brother has a point about her… Author's Note The Night Clerk is back.
