The RED Cataclysm

Chapter Nine: Bludgeoning the Hay

“Well, that was fun. Where was I?” I spin around once before turning back to the monitors. I’m actually kind of bored now. Maybe I should look over the switchboard again. “I could tell you about what happened after that, with all the mercenaries wandering randomly around Ponyville and scaring random ponies by simply being there, being humans, and being mercenaries, but I know how you get about superfluous details. Why don’t we skip ahead to when the mercenaries went to bed?”

“I can’t help but think you’ve contradicted yourself,” Helen tells me.

I glance over at Helen. She’s just lying there, staring at the monitors like a big, loyal watchdog. It’s actually kind of cute. I crack a smile despite myself. “No no no, it’s important, I swear,” I tell her.

Helen rolls her eyes, not bothering to look at me. “You have no idea where you’re going with this, do you?” she accuses.

“I know exactly where I’m going with this!” I reply defensively. “I have the soul of a dramatist, I’ll have you know.”

“You have a soul?” Helen scoffs. “I’m not convinced you’ll be able to handle my position, then.”

“Meh, I’ll get used to it,” I tell her, shrugging. “So, let’s not waste any more time. Bedtime blitzkrieg in five, four, three, two, one…”

Applejack threw open the doors to the barn. “Well, here ya go, fellas,” she said cheerily, pointing to the back of the barn. “We set up some spare mattresses for ya in the back there.”

The Engineer cheerfully tipped his hat to the orange apple farmer. “Much obliged, ma’am,” he said. The Pyro, standing behind him, put its hand up to its mouth and yawned mightily. It sounded kind of like a door with rusty hinges swinging closed. Or maybe that’s just me.

The Medic groaned inarticulately, struggling to keep his eyes open, and slowly trudged across the barn. “Sleeeeeep…” he moaned.

“Whoo, nelly. What’ve you been doin’ all day, Doc?” the Engineer asked, scratching his head.

Of course, the Medic was so uncharacteristically tired because of his caffeine crash, but lucky for him, he was too tired to say that. “Sleeeeeep,” he groaned again. And then I got an idea, but I’ll get into that later. The Teutonic man of medicine… heh. Teutonic. That’s a fun word. Anyway, he flopped down onto a nearby haystack without another word, and he didn’t move an inch. He started snoring softly almost the instant he stopped moving.

“…Well, he’s tired, ain’t ‘e?” Applejack remarked.

“Yeah…” the Engineer said to himself, stroking his chin. “Ya might even say, suspiciously tired…”

“Rrtrll brry frrn,” the Pyro yawned, stretching its arms and trudging into the barn.

“…I hope so…” the Engineer added, cringing and trudging after it. After a few moments, he stopped in his tracks. “Uh, thanks again for lettin’ us stay here, Applejack. If there’s anythin’ we could do t’ repay ya…”

Applejack chuckled nervously and looked away from the Engineer. “Just try not t’ shoot anythin’ while yer in ‘ere, okay? We milk cows in ‘ere on Sundays, an’ I’d rather not hafta explain bullet holes in the walls t’ our payin’ customers.”

The Engineer blinked, and the Pyro stopped in its tracks. “Customers?” he repeated. “Cows pay ya t’ milk ‘em?”

“Well, yeah,” Applejack replied. “I mean, somepony has to do it, an’ it’s kinda awkward, so the least we can do is pay ‘em for their trouble.”

The Pyro and the Engineer exchanged an odd glance. Or the Engineer’s was odd, anyway. The Pyro’s was hidden. “…Crrwsh rrr shrrnshyrrnt hrrr?” the Pyro eventually asked.

Applejack looked up at the Pyro and tilted her head to the side. “…What’d ‘e say?” she asked.

“He said, ‘Cows’re sentient here?’” the Engineer translated.

Applejack blinked, obviously taken aback by the question. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Why? Are they… not in your universe?”

The Engineer cringed. “No, not so much,” he replied. He realized that with that statement, he had an opportunity to reveal the fact that humans are omnivores, and subsequently, the fact that steak is delicious. But experience had long ago taught him that revealing your omnivorism to a society of implied herbivores was never a good idea. At least, not until you knew for sure how they’d react.

“…Huh. Go figure,” Applejack said to herself, tapping her chin with her hoof. “…Well, anyway, I hope y’all sleep well. We set up some extra pillows an’ mattresses for ya in the back.”

“Oh, well, that was nice a’ ya,” the Engineer remarked.

“Actually, ya can thank Rarity for that one,” Applejack replied.

The Engineer blinked. “Rarity? The tailor?” he asked.

“Yeah, her,” Applejack confirmed, nodding. “She went out an’ bought these for ya, dropped ‘em by the barn right after ya left. She said it was the least she could do.” She chuckled soflty to herself. “Y’know, I don’t know why I always forget she’s the Element a’ Generosity…”

The Pyro cocked its head to the side. “Rrr yrr, yrr mrrnrshrrnd thrrt,” it remarked.

The Engineer flinched at the mention of the name. “I… see,” he said. “Say, out a’ curiosity, who are the rest a’ the Elements?”

Applejack seemed to be reminded of something by this question, and looked the Engineer square in the eyes. “Y’know what?” she said. “Before I answer that, why don’cha tell me how ya knew what all the Elements were. Ya’re from an alternate universe, apparently, so how couldja know that?”

The Engineer flinched, his mind briefly returning to the tragic and horrifying events of Incident Oh-Six. “Oh… just a hunch, ma’am,” he replied. “I don’t really wanna talk about it. It’s classified. An’ personal, besides.”

Applejack squinted at him suspiciously for a few moments, and his only response was an awkward grin. Eventually, after a very, very long silence, Applejack sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, all righty then. I don’t mean t’ pry,” she said. “Well, there’s me, the Element a’ Honesty. Then there’s Rarity, she’s Generosity. There’s Pinkie Pie, she’s got Laughter…”

“Really?” the Engineer asked, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “Huh. Shoulda seen that one comin’, I guess.”

“Then there’s Fluttershy, the Element a’ Kindness,” Applejack continued. “Ya might not a’ met her.”

“Rrw! Rrw! Rrr hrrff!” the Pyro interjected, raising its hand.

“…Ya’ve met ‘er?” Applejack guessed.

The Pyro nodded enthusiastically. “Mm-hmm!” it replied.

“Huh,” Applejack said, smiling faintly. “Somethin’ tells me ya’d get along great.”

The Pyro’s enthusiasm suddenly faded. “Rrr, yrr… shrrr,” it said.

“Anyway,” Applejack continued, “there’s also Rainbow Dash, the Element a’ Loyalty, an’ Twilight has the Element a’ Magic.”

“Twilight… Y’mean Twilight Sparkle?” the Engineer asked, rubbing his chin.

“That’s her,” Applejack replied.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” the Engineer replied. “Okay then. Honest Applejack, generous Rarity, funny Pinkie Pie, kind Fluttershy, loyal Rainbow Dash an’ friendly Twilight Sparkle. I can remember all that. Thanks, Applejack.”

“Not at all,” Applejack replied, grinning a grin that rang a little false to the Engineer. “So, I guess I’ll see y’all at the party tomorrow!”

“See ya then!” the Engineer said cheerfully, tipping his hard hat to her. “An’ thanks again for all this!”

“No problem!” Applejack said, tipping her Stetson in return. She turned around to leave without another word.

“You an’ your friends look out for each other, now!” the Engineer said to her back. The barn door closed before Applejack could respond. “Heh. What a nice mare,” the Engineer remarked, making for the back of the barn.

“Rrr nrrw, rrrt?” the Pyro agreed, following after him. True to Applejack’s word, three notably small pillows, blankets and mattresses had been set up in the back of the barn, with a pillow on each of them. Of course they were too small. They were mattresses designed for ponies, after all.

The Engineer sighed. “You want the mattresses, Pyro?” he asked.

“Shrrr,” the Pyro replied, stepping up to the mattresses and removing its weapons from its back. “Wrrr rrr yrr grrnrr shlrrp?”

The Engineer, meanwhile, stepped up to an old wooden cart in the corner of the barn—you remember—and took off his hard hat and goggles. “I’ll use this,” he replied, setting them down next to said cart.

“Wrr crrn shrrr thrr mrrtrrrshrrsh,” the Pyro suggested, setting down its Sharpened Volcano Fragment next to its flare gun.

“Nah, that’s okay,” the Engineer replied simply, leaning his wrench against the cart’s wheel right next to his shotgun and Wrangler. “I wouldn’t want you t’ be uncomfortable, now.”

“Rrrrr… Rrkrry…” the Pyro sighed, gingerly setting down its hat a good distance away from its weapons and laying down face-up on the mattresses.

The Engineer removed his glove, revealing a perfectly normal human’s right hand underneath, and laid down on the cart. “I wouldn’t mind if ya spared a blanket an’ a pillow, though,” he added.

“Rrw, shrrr!” the Pyro replied cheerfully, sitting up. It grabbed a spare pillow, wrapped a blanket around it, and quickly tossed him the bundle.

The Engineer caught the bundle in midair and quickly unfolded it. “Much obliged,” he said cheerfully, setting up the pillow behind him and tossing the blanket over him. He then raised his hands above his head, forming a square with his fingers, smirked softly, and began reciting a bizarre, alien incantation: “Ready. Ten, let value hat equal unspec thirty-nine. Twenty, let value Misc1 equal unspec thirty-eight. Run.” Man, this universe is weird.

“Wrrt rrr yrr drrwrrng?” the Pyro asked, pushing the mattresses closer together.

“Well, we’re goin’ to a party tomorrow,” the Engineer replied, grinning. “I figgered I might as well dress the part.”

“Rrw, grrd rrydrryrr,” the Pyro said, raising its own hands like the Engineer did. “Rrrdrry. Trrn, lrrt ffrrlyrrw hrrt rrkwrrl shprrk shrrffrrn. Twrrntrry, lrrt ffrrlyrrw MrrshkWrrn rrkwrrl shprrk frrr. Thrrtrry, lrrt ffrrlyrrw MrrshkTrrw rrkwrrl rrnshprrk twrrntrry-frrr, crrsh trrw. Rrrn.”

“All righty then,” the Engineer sighed. “We’ll swap our loadouts in the mornin’. I’ll tell the Medic about it once ‘e wakes up.”

“Rrkrry. Shrry yrr rrn thrr mrrnrrng,” the Pyro replied.

“G’night,” the Engineer said simply. Silence fell over the barn for a few moments. But it only took a few moments for that silence to be broken.

“…Hrry, Rrnjrry?” the Pyro asked softly. “Yrr rrshlrryp yrrt?”

The Engineer sighed. “Not at all,” he said simply, sitting up. “What’s eatin’ ya?”

The Pyro sat up as well, sighing heavily. “…Rrrm wrrrryd rrbrrt wrrt hrrprrnd thrrsh mrrnrrng,” it said.

The Engineer cringed. “Y’mean… you takin’ down the filter?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” the Pyro replied, burying its head in its hands. “Rrr… wrrt rrff shrr frrndsh rrwt? Rrsh shrr grrnrr frryrrr mrr?”

It was at about that point that the Engineer realized that yes, that was actually very possible. I mean, the Pyro’s anonymity is the first things addressed in its contract, after all. If it was learned that said anonymity had been compromised, then yes, it was entirely possible it could get fired for it. A few moments after he realized this, the Engineer’s expression suddenly became determined. “It’s gonna be okay, Pyro,” he swore. “She won’t find out about it. It’s our secret, an’ I’ll take it to the grave if I have to.”

“Brrt yrr drry rrll thrr trrm,” the Pyro pointed out, looking back up at the Engineer.

“I mean the real grave,” the Engineer corrected. “She’ll never find out about this from me, even if she tortures me for a thousand years.”

The Pyro didn’t say anything at first. After a few moments, it finally slumped over a little and let out a sigh that, even through its filter, was obviously wistful. “Thrrnksh, Rrnjrry…” it said. “Yrrr rr grrd frrrnd…”

The Engineer’s heart melted, and his face twisted itself into a goofy smile. “Thanks, Pyro,” he said, looking down slightly and putting his hand on his chin. “Ya want me t’ sing ya a lullaby?”

The Pyro’s spine straightened, and it nodded enthusiastically. “Rrw! Yrrsh, Rrr drrw!” it blurted out, clapping its hands a few times. “Shrrng Lrr Crrbrryrr Grrtrrnrr!”

“All righty then,” the Engineer said. He scooted up to the edge of the cart, casting his blanket aside for a moment, and pulled an acoustic guitar out of midair. Holding it by its neck, he strummed it once. Satisfied that it was in-tune, he set it down on his lap and began to strum it.

That’s just about enough of that.

I sigh and turn back to Helen. “I know, I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I don’t need to tell you what happened while the Engineer sang the song. It’s dull and unproductive. I know, I know. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do that.”

Helen smirks at me smugly. “Good,” is all she says.

Good, she fell for it! I grin and start mischievously rubbing my hands together. “Instead, I’m gonna sing it myself!”

Helen’s smirk vanishes. She groans in exasperation and slams her hoof into her face. “Agh!” she cries out, rearing back instinctively. Looks like she forgot she has hooves now.

I can’t help it. I snort. “Okay then, if there are no objections!” I say cheerfully. I swivel around so I’m facing away from the monitors and snap my fingers. In a bright white flash of light, a copy of me appears in front of me, holding an acoustic guitar and grinning. “Ready, Discord?” I ask him.

“Ready, Discord!” he shoots back, clicking his tongue and winking at me.

“Okay, let’s go!” I say, leaping up. I glance over at Helen before we begin. She doesn’t look surprised, not that I was expecting that. She’s simply staring at me, exasperated. I was expecting that. After all, she doesn’t know how well I can sing. “A-one, a-two, a-one, two three, four!”

The other Discord begins strumming his guitar in an upbeat fashion, a gigantic grin on his face. It starts off as the introduction to La Caballa Gitana, exactly as the Engineer played it. But by the sixth measure, other-Discord feels comfortable enough to throw in some improv. Good for him. I grin, take a deep breath, stretch out my vocal cords, and on my cue—not a moment before, not a moment later—I begin to sing in a rich baritone.

“Cuando estas tu devastado,

Ten esto en tu mente claro:

Eres creación de un juguetero

En una bola de cristal.”

Helen looks more surprised by all this than anything, I notice.

“No importan sus movimientos,

Seguerimos resistiendo.

¡Nuestras almas ganan fuerza

Entonando esta canción!”

Helen continues to stare at me, perplexed, as I launch into the next verse. Luna’s mane, she’s beautiful.

“Cuando era una potrilla,

un gran incendio azotó mi villa.

Me enviaron al orfanato.

Mis raices me quisieron hacer olvidar.”

Other-Discord should be playing this next part solemn, but he doesn’t feel like it. He goes nuts with the improv, putting in sixteen notes where there should only be one. I like it.

“Pero aún puedo recordar

Los huerfanos y su danzar.

Sus nombres yo no sé, y sus caras olvidé,

¡Pero aún recuerdo esta canción!”

Other-Discord and I lock eyes for a brief moment. We grin two identical grins at the exact same time. I give him a quick thumbs-up, then launch into the final verse.

“Cuando todo haya acabado,

Y pierdas los que tu has amado,

Escucha el dulce tintineo

De mi pandero feliz.”

For the briefest of instants, I could swear a flicker of a smile crosses Helen’s face.

“Los acordes te hipnotizan.

Todo el mundo se armoniza.

Así que niños, ¡ya no lloren!

¡Solo canten junto a mí!”

The song ends, just like that, and it seems like all the magic leaves the room. For the briefest of moments, I miss it.

Other-Discord’s voice pulls me out of my trance. “Good job, Discord!” he says. “You’re better at this whole singing thing than I remembered!”

I shake my head, turn to Other-Discord, and grin. “Gee, thanks, Discord!” I tell him, falling back into my throne. I then turn to Helen. “I hope you enjoyed that brief little musical interlude,” I tell her.

“…I grudgingly admit,” she says, still glaring at me, “I have certainly heard worse performances of La Caballa Gitana. Like when the Scout sings it, for example.”

“Which Scout?” I ask her, crossing my arms and smirking. “The RED Scout, or the BLU Scout?”

“Either one,” she replies matter-of-factly. “The RED Scout simply cannot comprehend that Spanish words are pronounced differently than English ones, but the BLU Scout is a worse singer in general. Those two disadvantages cancel each other out, I think.”

“Good to know!” I reply, grinning and spinning back around to the switchboard. “Now, back to our regularly scheduled story! As you can imagine, the Pyro fell asleep pretty quick after it got its, lullaby, and—”

“Oh, sweet mother Celestia, you’re not going to tell her about the Pyroland Incident, are you?” Other-Discord interjects. What? Why wouldn’t I— ohhh… Other-Discord’s words hit me like a knife to the chest, and I realize exactly what part of the story I’m getting to. I cringe and turn around to look at my counterpart, rubbing my hands together awkwardly.

“Well… yeah,” I mutter, not meeting his gaze. “It’s what comes next in the story…” I glance over at Helen, who’s observing the two of us with obvious intrigue. Great.

“Do you have to?” Other-Discord asks, clearing his throat. “I mean, couldn’t you just say you forgot, or it’s irrelevant to the story or something?”

“It’s not irrelevant to the story, though,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “I kind of have to tell her what happened…”

“But it’s so… creepy and… weird…” Other-Discord says, sounding a little bit like he’s whining.

“Weird?” Helen repeats. I glance over to her, only to see her smirking smugly and leaning forward. “Well, if whatever you’re about to tell me about is considered weird by your lofty standards, I’d be a fool not to be curious. Go on, Discord. I insist.”

I look back to Other-Discord, silently pleading with him for backup. He just sighs and shakes his head. “You’re on your own, pal,” he tells me. He snaps his fingers and vanishes in a puff of smoke. I sigh heavily and look back at Helen.

Luna’s mane, she’s beautiful.

“…okay, fine…” I begin in a very small voice. “The Pyro fell asleep pretty quick after it got its lullaby… and it started dreaming even quicker.”

In the depths of the Pyro’s psyche, the skies were blue, the fields were green, the clouds were white and fluffy. The flowers were gigantic and brightly colored, gigantic, bulbous kittens and puppies floated aimlessly through the air, and giant lollipops stuck out out of the ground in large patches. You know what’s funny? Pyroland looks almost exactly like Tartarus when I got kicked out. Man, was I drunk that day…

Ponies drink alcohol?

Well, ponies don’t, no. You see, ponies’ metabolisms are actually miracles of biology. They’re really super-efficient for their size, especially earth ponies. Alcohol barely even affects them. To even get a buzz, they’d have to drink enough to send a human into a coma. It’s actually really interesting when you stop and think abo—

You’re going on a tangent, aren’t you?

…Well, yeah.

Stop that at once. I want to hear about the Pyro’s dream, which you seem so adamant to keep from me. Continue… if you please.

…Okay, fine. The Pyro skipped gleefully across the land of its imagination, approaching the idyllic and perfect village of Teufort, where a shallow lemonade river separated the homes of the gentle Red Elves and the hardworking Blue Cherubs. It easily hopped the fence, plucked a lollipop from the ground next to it, and twirled it over its head. “Hrrlrrw, rrffrrywrrn!” it said joyfully. “Rrm hrrr!”

Suddenly, there was a bright white flash of light in front of it, and when it could see again, a shockingly attractive… creature, let’s call him… materialized in front of it, reclining on a throne made of purple gumdrops. He casually twirled his thin white mustache, adjusted his sombrero, and plucked a gumdrop from the arm of his throne. “¡Buenas noches, mi mejor amigo-slash-amiga! Won’t you be my neighbor?” he said through a cheerful and thick but outrageously fake Spanish accent.

The Pyro gasped and charged up to the throne, jabbing its lollipop back into the ground as it ran. “Drrshrrdrrn! Drrshrrdrrn! Rrr mrrshd yrrw!” it said, leaping into its imaginary friend’s lap like a kid going to see Santa Paws at the mall.

“Desorden” chuckled and twanged the handle on the Pyro’s head. “I meessed you too, sport,” he told it. “Eet gets lonely around ‘ere when you go back to el mundo dispierto.”

“Shrrw wrrt rrr wrry grrwrrng trr drrw trrdrry?” the Pyro asked, clapping its hands in anticipation. “Rrr wrr grrnrr grr shwrrmrrng? Rrr crrnrrwrrng? Rrw! Rrr crrn wrr grrw brrk trrw Prrhrrlrrnd Crrtrry? Rrr thrrnk Mrrshtrr Brrlrrnrrcrrn rrrlrry nrrdsh shrrm chrrrrng rrp trrdrry!”

“Oh, don’t worry about Señor Balloonicorn. He always needs cheerin’ up!” Desorden replied, casually tapping the Pyro’s chin and laughing heartily. The Pyro giggled right along with it, of course. “An’ sí, all dose teengs sound like fun. But today we’re gonna do someteen’ different. Someteen’ new an’ exciteen’. Someteen’ you’ve neeever done before.”

“Rrrw, Rrr crrnt wrryt!” the Pyro said eagerly, clapping its hands. “Wrrt rrsh rrt?”

Desorden smirked. “I’m gonna geev you a lesson, Pyro,” he said. When he spoke again, his voice was jam-packed with whimsy. “I’m gonna teach you about… de five senses!”

Oh, no.

The Pyro tilted its head to the side. “Wrrt?” it asked. “Rrrm frrtrry-thrrry yrrsh rrld, Drrshrrdrrn. Rrr nrrw wrrt thrr frrff shrrnshrrsh.”

Desorden chuckled. “Well, play along for your ol’ pal Desorden, okay?”

“…Rrkrry?” the Pyro eventually agreed.

“Good! ¡Vamanos!” Desorden laughed, snapping his fingers. The next thing the Pyro knew, it was standing in front of Desorden, who cracked his knuckles and grinned. “Now, everypo— ahem. Esscuse me, everyone has five senses. Dey are sight…” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly everything the Pyro could see became brighter, as though it had taken off a pair of sunglasses. “…hearing…” He snapped his fingers again, and the Pyro’s hearing became heightened. “…taste…” He snapped his fingers again, but nothing appeared to happen this time. “…smell…” He snapped his fingers again, and suddenly the Pyro felt a breeze on the bridge of its nose.

It was quick to realize that it effectively didn’t have a nose, and snapped upright. “Wait, what are you—” It didn’t need its heightened hearing to realize that its voice was unmuffled.

“…and most eemportant of all, touch!” Desorden finished, snapping his fingers one last time. This time, the Pyro could feel a breeze all over its body. It looked down in horror, only to discover that its rubber suit was missing, replaced by a swimsuit. It leapt into the air and screamed like a little girl, throwing its hands over itself in an attempt to preserve its modesty. …I want to tell you the best part about that now, but no… no… that would spoil it. Just trust me, there’s a payoff for this. “Well, I guess dat answers dat question!” Desorden remarked.

No. You didn’t.

“Wh-What deed you do dat for?!” the Pyro blurted out, horrified.

“An’ now,” Desorden finished, “you haff all five senses back! See? Before, you couldn’t feel anyteeng! You couldn’t use your sense of touch! But now you can! Eesn’t dat great?”

“N-No!” the Pyro blurted out, curling into a ball. “Geev me my suit back! I—” Suddenly, it stopped mid-sentence. It only realized just then that it could, in fact, feel its skin rubbing against itself. It felt… warm. Comforting. “…I… oh. Actually… dees ees kind of… nice…”

Desorden sighed and stood up. “Pyro,” he said gently, “I deedn’t mean to scare you. I jus’ feel like you’ve been… deprived. I mean, de suit is great… s’fireproof, an’ all… but teenk about it. How long has eet been seence you’ve been able to feel anyteeng esscept asbestos scrapeen’ ‘gainst yer skeen? Taste anyteeng you couldn’t feet t’rough de feelter of your mask? Hear anyteeng dat deedn’t come t’rough a layer of rubber first? An’ don’ even get me started on your nose…”

The Pyro didn’t answer. It couldn’t. It was too busy relishing the new sensation of touch. It ran its fingers over its body, through its hair, across its face. It rubbed its bare feet against the ground. It reached out and touched the wooden wall of the Red Elves’ home. A splinter broke off in its finger, but it didn’t care.

A few moments later, the Pyro realized its other senses were still working, too. It took deep breaths of the hot air, basked in the scent of sugar that seemed to come from everywhere at once, listened to the songs of birds and the distant laughter of children. It was glorious. Every sensation, forgotten so long ago, was rediscovered good as new. I don’t think it ever occurred to it to smile. It simply cast its eyes, ears, and other sense-organs all over Teufort, greedily soaking in everything.

“Just remember, Pyro,” Desorden said, crossing his arms. “Ees all a dream. And your boss? She cannot puneesh you for what happens een a dream, yeah?”

“…No…” the Pyro agreed. Suddenly, it was struck by an idea. It looked to its left, and sure enough, the lollipop was right there where it had replanted it. Slowly, hesitantly, it reached out, grabbed the stick and plucked up the lollipop. The stick felt smooth and slick in its hand, but the Pyro didn’t care at this point. It raised the lollipop to its mouth and licked it. It tasted like pure sugar and strawberries. The instant that taste hit its tongue, its knees buckled beneath it and it fell to the ground, overcome with ecstasy. Panting heavily, it began to rapidly lick at the circle of sugar product, practically rubbing the damn thing against its face.

“Eh… wow, you’re really goeen’ to town dere, aren’t ya?” Desorden observed, nervously rubbing his hands together. The Pyro didn’t answer. “…You know, I never realized unteel now how steenkin’ long your tongue ees.” Again, no answer. Desorden glanced from side to side nervously, clearing his throat. “…So whenever you’re feeneeshed… Dere are lots of udder teengs we could be doin’ today.”

Suddenly, the Pyro was struck by an idea. I actually had nothing at all to do with this one. It just happened. The Pyro was still for a few moments. Then, it dropped the lollipop and ran over to Desorden, planting its sticky red hands on his furry chest. “Desorden,” it said, looking up at its friend with pleading eyes. “Dees ees a dream, yes?”

“Sí, señor-slash-señorita,” Desorden replied.

“An’ because eet ees,” the Pyro continued, “we can do… just about anyteeng, right?”

“…Sí…” Desorden replied, nodding. “De only leemeet to what we can do ees your eemaginashon. Where are you goeen’ with dees?”

That would’ve been an ideal time for the Pyro to smile, but that didn’t occur to it at the time. “Een dat case…” it said, “I know what I want to do today.”

“We can do jus’ about anyteeng we want een here,” Desorden said, grinning and kneeling down to look his friend in the eyes. “What do you want to do today, amigo-slash-amiga?”

Panting heavily, its whole body trembling, the Pyro planted its hands on its friend’s shoulders, leaned forward, and whispered its reply into his ear. Desorden’s expression shifted over the course of the reveal from intrigued to perplexed to shocked.

“…Crísto Redentor, dass… not what I was esspecteen’,” he observed once the Pyro was done.

“Can you do eet?” the Pyro asked, leaning forward. “Please… I don’t want to waste dees chance…”

“W-Well, I can, but… a-are you sure?” Desorden asked, glancing around nervously. “I mean, dere are lots of udder teengs you could do. We could go sweemeeng… or canoeeng… or anyteeng else, really, eenstead of—”

“No!” the Pyro interjected. “I know what I want, Desorden. Please… Please… You’re my friend… You haff to do dees for me… Please…”

Desorden stared into the Pyro’s eyes, and he could tell it meant it. There was something primal in those eyes. Raw, unfiltered desire. The Pyro would not be swayed in its decision. And really, who would… Desorden… be to deny his friend? “…Well, eef dass really what you want…” he said nervously, looking away from the Pyro.

“Oh, eet ees,” the Pyro panted.

“…den I guess you can,” Desorden finished. After a few moments, he snapped his fingers again. He and the Pyro were transported to the basement of the Red Elves’ home—specifically, the Root Room. The room overlooked a massive underground cavern, and roots of the Life Tree hung from the ceiling. Dangling from those roots, somehow, there hung a glowing red fruit shaped suspiciously like a briefcase.

But, of course, the Pyro didn’t notice that at first. The first thing it noticed… was the addition to the room: a large double bed with a red satin comforter. Naturally, the second thing it noticed was the man lying on the bed, giving the Pyro a powerful come-hither stare. Specifically, that man was… um… well, guess.

Oh, not again…

He didn’t say anything. He just raised his hand and beckoned to the Pyro. For the first time, it actually smiled. Its body went limp and started quivering, it began to pant rhythmically, its jaw hung open loosely, and its tongue began to loll out of its mouth. Like a dog’s. Eugh.

“…So I’m gonna leeve you two alone, den,” Desorden chuckled, turning to leave. Before he was even out of the room, he heard the Pyro’s bare feet charging toward the bed… and…

I awkwardly clear my throat. “And… uh… yeah, I think you get the idea.” Helen doesn’t say anything in response. I glance over to her, and I see that her face is buried in her arms. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea this time!” is all I can think to say in my own defense.

“…Why… in the names… of all the gods at once… was that necessary?” Helen asks, slowly looking back up at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this angry, and I do a poor job of hiding it.

I nervously swivel around to face the monitors. “W-Well, there was a point to it.” She simply stares daggers at me. “It was all a part of my plan to… um…” I nervously scrape the ground with my hoof. “…help show the mercenaries that…” Wait. If she’s this angry at what happened to the Pyro, revealing my plan at this point would NOT end well. “…Okay, fine, I was just doing what the Pyro wanted me to do.”

Helen scoffs and rolls her eyes. “And that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t removed the Pyro’s suit,” she points out.

“That part was important, though…” I reply distractedly. The only sound in the room is the beeping of the computers behind me. I feel like I have to say something in my defense. “W-Well, for the record, it’s not the… act itself that creeps me out,” I say. “It’s just… how it was done. I mean, it started off simple enough, but later, they kept making… Desorden get things… After a while, things started getting weird. Like, really weird.” A stray thought pops into my head. “Although actually, now that I think about it, it reminds me of a guy I used to know. Asmoheus, I think his name was. Dad never let me go to his parties…”

“You had an odd childhood, didn’t you?” Helen growls.

“Very odd, yes,” I reply.

“You know,” Helen remarks, “I’m almost inclined to not believe you. I mean, I’m fully aware that most of the RED Team harbors some kind of sexual fantasy involving the Spy, but to have the Pyro be involved with it is simply—”

“Wait, the Spy?” I interrupt. “…No. No, I— what? That doesn’t make any sense. The Spy wasn’t involved in this.”

Helen lets out a long, deep breath. “Thank… God… for that,” she says. “I swear, in the old days, interrelations between the mercenaries were so commonplace you could sell footage of their day-to-day lives as some kind of pornographic, action-oriented soap opera. And the worst part is, I know it’s still going on behind my back… but somehow, I can’t prove anything.”

I cringe, not wanting to meet her gaze. “It, um… it wasn’t the Spy. It was the Engineer.”

All of a sudden, something snaps in Helen’s mind. Her wings flare up, and she stomps on the ground with sufficient force to crack the tile. Her horn starts glowing, and suddenly I feel my throat being squeezed. Hard. “SON OF A BITCH! AGAIN?!” she screams.

Now that’s not the reaction I was expecting. My hands instinctively shoot up to my neck. But as they overlap with the aura of Helen’s magic, they’re simply pressed against my throat and immobilized. Oh, that was such bad idea. “Wh-Whoa! Calm down there!” I choke out. My eyes are bugging out of my head, and I can barely breathe, but I somehow still manage to talk. “I-I’m just the messenger here! Don’t shoot the— Don’t choke the messenger! That won’t solve anything!”

“It’ll make me feel better!” Helen snaps, tightening her magical grip on me. She’s not kidding, is she? I’d better not risk it. I somehow manage to lift one of my hands and snap my fingers. I teleport behind her before she realizes I’m gone. I reflexively gasp for breath, and she whirls around. But I pluck her horn right off her head before she can do anything else with it.

“Calm. Down,” I command her, glaring with a ferocity to match her own. “I have a story to tell here, and I can’t tell it if you’re choking me. Can I get back to work now, please?”

Helen glares at me with a fiery rage in her eyes to rival the sun itself. She goes on, wordlessly panting and snarling, for a few minutes that seem to last a lifetime. “…Fine,” she eventually growls. “…Continue.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I teleport back over to my throne and set Helen’s horn down on the switchboard. “You know, you’re not as cute when you’re angry.”

“Silence,” Helen growls.

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I can’t be silent if I’m telling the story,” I say. “Think, woman. So, where were we? Oh, yeah…”

At about one-thirty that evening, the Engineer awoke to an unfamiliar noise. A persistent, repeated grunting noise is how I’d describe it. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, like you do, only for the noise to get louder. The Engineer sighed and pulled his pillow over his head. Then, all of a sudden, the noise changed to a strangely intense “Mm-mmmhmmm…” and that was when he got worried. He sat up to see what the source of the noise was, and… well, guess.

I reallyfail to see the necessity of this part of your plan.

It’ll make sense eventually, I promise. I swear on all the legions of Tartarus.

You… baffle me, Discord.

Aw, I love you too. Anyway, the Pyro was… well, really going at it. I don’t think it moves that much on the battlefield. Hips thrusting, clutching at its pillows, gasping and moaning like some kind of feral animal on heat, the whole nine yards. It just bounced up and down in a one… one-Pyro display of mobility and lust that would’ve put the Medic to shame.

The Engineer stared at the thrusting Pyro for a few long moments. At the end of the silence, all he could think to say was “…Huh. Go figure.” With that, he quickly began to go over his options. The obvious solution would be to wake the Pyro up and get it to stop making noise so he could sleep. But as you know, if it woke up, that would mean its you-know-what would kick in, and fire would happen. Naturally, the Engineer, having notably more respect for sentient life than the Medic, couldn’t let that happen. But being a nice guy, he didn’t want to wake up the Medic to execute his plan safely. So he decided on the simpler option and laid down again, never more thankful that he’d chosen not to share the mattresses.

And the instant he thought that, the Pyro made itself impossible to ignore. In its sleep, it suddenly cried out “Rrr, Grrd, Rrnjrry…”

Rrrrrrgh…

The Engineer shot upright and stuffed his fist in his mouth, muffling his horrified cry of “What?!” just in the nick of time. The Pyro, oblivious, kept right on truckin’. The Engineer stared for a few moments, then buried his head in his hands and started muttering to himself. If you’ll permit me, he actually had a really good conversation with himself here. Let’s see, how did it go…

“Oh God, not again…” he started. “An’ with the damn Pyro, too… How is it that I’m the only hundred-percent straight man on my team, an’ I’m always the one gettin’ lusted after by other men?”

“Well, not a hundred percent,” his brain shot back. Or rather, I shot back in an impression of his brain.

I thought you were busy with the Pyro when this happened.

You lost your interrupting-me privileges when you tried to choke me, young lady. Now shush. “No, dammit, I am!” the Engineer snapped back, curling his hands into fists and hitting himself in the legs. I said nothing in response, simply summoning up the appropriate memory. “…Oh, God, this now… Spektra, git outta my he—” He stopped midsentence. “Wait… I took three pills this mornin’. How’n the hell did I have a flashback while I was ridin’ high on a hundred an’ eight milligrams a’ Supressanx?”

“Does it matter right now?” I countered. “I mean, I just got all eight of ‘em. The complete set. An’ it only took me fourteen years t’ get the last one… Wonder what took the Pyro so long?

“Dammit, brain, you’re not helpin’!” the Engineer muttered, hitting himself twice on the forehead. He sighed heavily, again burying his head in his hands. “What’n the hell am I gonna do…”

“The same thing ya did the other seven times?” I suggest.

The Engineer considered this for a few moments, then finally sighed. “As always, brain… you’re right,” he sighed, leaning back down. “I’ll just talk to ‘im in the mornin’. Like ev’ry other time.”

Considering everything else that had happened, I felt I owed him a decent night’s sleep, so I granted him one. The last thing he heard before he fell asleep again was “Rrr, yrrsh, thrrr!”

The second-to-last thing he thought before he fell asleep was “A bubble blower? Why do you need— Never mind, I don’ wanna know.”

And the last thing he thought before he fell asleep was “What’s that smell?”

Author's Note

As of this chapter, ladies and gentlemen, you may consider my story's Mature listing justified. Thank you all, again, for taking the time to read this story of mine, and let me be the first to say I'm so very, very sorry. As always, feel free to drop any compliments, criticism or other miscellany you have in the comments. More of the same coming soon... except it'll be less sexy. ...Hopefully.