CyberPone

//The Pretender

“It takes heart to fight for something that so many consider a lost cause.”

I let out a groan as I sat up a little in the passenger seat of my car, grabbing with my magic a small yellow and teal medical injector, labeled “Buck Back!” in big black lettering, from the glove compartment. Without hesitation, I inserted the needle into my upper chest. A minty fresh feeling washed over me as I tossed the empty device out the car window. The radio was dead quiet; a rare thing for us. Hexadecimal was at the wheel, silently waiting for the stoplight to turn green, her eyes hazy.

“Hexie.”

She turned away from me trying her best to avert my gaze.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Hexadecimal didn’t respond, choosing to leave the vehicle in an awkward quiet. I pulled a box of Las Pegasus cigarettes out of my inner jacket pocket with my crimson magic and placed one in my mouth. While returning the box back into my torn and bloody jacket, I flicked my right hoof, setting it ablaze to light the end of my cigarette. Only after a few puffs did Hexie finally speak.

“It’s just…” she stuttered, holding back tears while pressing on the gas as the stoplight turned green. “I want to change what I said to him yesterday. I wish I could’ve at least said goodbye.”

Staring at the skyline’s morning glow, I took another hit from my cig. “Me too.”

The horizon changed from elegant, neon-lit high rises to rough, high density housing as we crossed from Burnt Oak Heights into Delray. Delray was just northeast of the core of the city, and was home for many, including Hexadecimal. Cops rarely covered the area thanks to the Fixers, so if anyone ever needed something, they could find it here.

Hexie took us down the first exit ramp off the freeway, bringing us into the heart of the district. Three children were playing with a patchwork ball, blissfully ignorant of the shithole they were born in. The fillies gleefully hopped passed by a small group of ponies and zebras drinking on the staircase. These older folks whistled and hooted at every female that went by, who all gave audible sounds of disgust as they walked away.

“His mom invited us to his funeral.” Hexie tried her best not to tremble on each word. “Said we’re always welcome there. That we’re pretty much family.”

I couldn’t respond. The memories of Hardcase’s death were too fresh. They ate at my every fiber. I couldn’t hold back the wave of tears. I could’ve done something. No! I should’ve done something! Instead I just stood by and watched. I couldn’t act then, but I was acting now. We would get revenge.

Hexadecimal drove through multiple stoplights, roundabouts and side streets before stopping at the front of an old rundown vinyl record shop called Electric Fetus. A small, white store with a single window that featured records, cassettes and instruments, ranging from an electric blue guitar to a black pearl drum set. Despite the old tech outside, it’s the best music shop in all of Equestria.

Hexie parked in an open spot in front of the store and shut off the vehicle, tossing me the keys. I jumped out of the car and smiled at the glowing neon red and blue open sign. To me, this was home. Hexadecimal locked the car and followed me towards the shop. A small gold bell happily rang as we entered the Electric Fetus. Instantly, we were hit by a multitude of sounds. The song playing over the building’s speakers was drowned out by customers testing out instruments and the folks trying to speak over the noise.

I leaned over the front counter and waved my hoof to get the attention of the female griffon, wearing a black midriff shirt from a band called the Old Gods of Equestria, at the other end. She strutted over to me.

“How can I help you?” she asked in a monotone voice.

“Do you know where Sweet Melody is?”

She pointed towards the back of the room, “She’s helping a young customer in the back.”

Together, Hexie and I moved our way through the folks towards the store manager. As we approached the back of the room, we spotted Melody, a small zebra covered in piercings, wearing a purple headband and multiple necklaces ranging from studs to beads. The young black-coated stallion she was helping was testing out a red electric guitar, playing different riffs and chords. The zebra seemed to be enjoying the music he was playing. It was only when the stallion started to play an A minor triad over another A minor triad did Sweet Melody grab the guitar from his hooves.

“Not in my store. Get out!” she told the stallion.

He grunted and mumbled curses under his breath as he proceeded to leave the store, walking right by me. Sweet Melody put the red electric guitar back on the wall and finally noticed me.

“Afterburner.” She stared at the back of my bloody, torn jacket and new black cybernetics while giggling. “Looking as dashing as ever.”

We embraced and I held out my keys with my magic. “It’s been a day and my ride is kinda torn. You mind having your folks look at it?”

“What did you do to it this time?” She sounded like a mother scolding her child as she pulled away, taking the silver car keys with her.

“Nothing much,” I gave a small grin while running a hoof through my mane. “Just pushed her to the limit. That’s all.”

She laughed again. “Like you always do? So are you gonna pay me this time or should I put it on your tab?”

“I got the bits. I’ll pay you for the parts.”

“Good.” Sweet Melody turned to Hexadecimal and embraced her with a huge smile on her face. “Hexie, it’s been too long! How are you?”

“Better now that I’m in your hooves,” the punk mare answered with a gleefully tone.

I rolled my eyes and tried my best to suppress my cringe. ‘Get a motel,’ I thought.

The zebra pulled away and looked around confused. “Where’s Hardcase?”

Both Hexie and I looked away from our friend’s gaze. Melody’s smile faded as she bowed her head for a second and said a prayer to the Goddesses.
“What happened?”

Hexadecimal began reciting the events of prior day. With each word she spoke was drowned out by a loud hiss of a ringing bell that filled my ears. I blankly watched as the zebra’s face expressions went from shock to anger to horror. I couldn’t hear the words Melody spoke but I didn’t have too. She buried her misty eyes in her hooves just as Hexie finished. The punk unicorn wrapped her own hooves around the short zebra in a vain attempt to comfort her.

After the noise finally stopped, I lifted up her chin with my magic and while looking directly into the zebra mare’s techno--green eyes, I asked, “Melody, do you know if Crash Bug is in today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re heading underground,” I gestured for Hexie to follow me as I started walking to the back storage room of the Electric Fetus. “I need to have a talk with your sister.”

“I guess I’ll talk to you later, babe,” Hexadecimal said to Sweet Melody.

Pushing through the grey swinging doors into the back storage room, I turned left before going down a long set of stairs to the basement of the music shop. The edges of the stairs were lit with soft neon pinkish-red lights, leading up to a grand foyer filled with red velvet couches and a few drink and firearm dispenser machines built into the walls. Ponies, zebras, griffons, dragons, a few colorful changelings, and diamond dogs were chatting in the area, some sitting on the couches while some stood, but all had different visible cybernetics. Ahead of the group was a set of thick steel silver doors with a purple changeling in a black and silver suit and tie that guarded them. Above him was a pale blue sign with a pink outlining border mimicking the art style of street graffiti that read: The Underground.

Everyone stared at me and Hexie as we walked up to the bouncer. He put out a hoof to block us from proceeding. I tried to just walk past him, but he pushed me back and gruffed, “Who do you think you are?”

“It’s been a long day,” I let out with a long sigh. “Tell Crash Bug that Alakdan and Hexadecimal are here to see her.”

“Like I’m just gonna listen to you.” He laughed.

My HUD flickered to life as I quickly sent a message to Crash Bug. In seconds, the sliding doors opened and a small zebra with multiple ear piercings in a sleeveless grey hoodie walked out. She punched the purple changeling in the shoulder.

“Sorry about the new guy, I would’ve expected employees to remember one of our most popular Runners.” The guard moved to the side at Crash Bug’s glare before the zebra turned around and gestured with her head for us to follow her in. “Come on in.”

The changeling didn’t even breath as Hexadecimal and I entered the multiple neon-colored chamber through the door. A large area was packed to the brim with patrons drinking and vibing to live, upbeat dubstep. The sitting bar to the left had every seat filled with folks, which the two bartenders quickly served their drinks and food. The right side of the room was constructed to be an open dance floor, complete with a light up floor, stage for the performing musician and multi-colored strobe lights. The dancers threw their hooves, paws, claws or talons, both metal and organic, in the air, filling the space with jubilant sounds. The booths around the dancers were occupied by those conducting business or other tasks. Like the farthest corner booth from us that was filled by a mixed group of griffins and dragons snorting neat lines of a small, glowing-red crystalled substance: Red Ice. They howled after each completed a line. I rolled my eyes and looked elsewhere.

The walls, and even the roof, were covered in street art commissioned by the owner from famous artists around the city. A new piece was being worked on the wall to the right of the front door. It showed a masked kirin walking through a field of red spider lilies to blindly leap off a cliff and crash into the dark body of water below. There was no tag on the art, but there was a black symbol on the kirin’s jacket: two connected eight notes.

I stopped and took a long puff from my cig as I squinted to observe the painting in more detail.

“Remind you of someone?” a voice sounded from behind me.

It was like looking in the mirror all over again. The kirin, with eyes of silver and a mane of crimson, walked towards the image and placed a hoof on its fresh paint. He laughed at the art, turning to see my reaction. The figure who stood in front of me was me; my shadow. He bared his teeth, making a childish face before raising an eyebrow at me.

“Something in my teeth?!” he asked while nervously trying to look down at his mouth.

I waited a moment to answer, searching for the right words. “Are you real?”

He patted himself all over as if to make sure his body was still there. “Yeah, I would say so.”

My reflection looked closer into my eyes, getting right up in my face. His own eyes appeared like mini cosmos as his pupils were sprinkled with millions upon millions of ‘stars’. His face grew serious. “Are you really that afraid that you can only see me through your new real eye?”

I immediately started to rub my right eye while leaving my other open and, sure enough, he was right. Not only did my doppelganger vanish, but so did the symbol. I repeatedly opened and closed my right eye to confirm what I was seeing was real. My heart began to race as I thought to myself that I’d lost it.

“You’re perfectly sane,” he reassured my worries. “You are just opening your eyes for the first time. Breathtaking, am I right?”

He paused to read my body language and, seemingly, my mind again.

“I get it. The world is moving too fast for even some like you. Buck on the afterburners or stay in the dust, but you won’t like the outcome of the latter.” he stated while flames engulfed his figure, transforming his skin as black as coal and setting his hair ablaze. He drew a pistol out of thin air with his crimson magic and laughed, leveling the barrel of the firearm with his temple and pulling the trigger. I blinked rapidly as the shot echoed in my head, forcing me to the ground along with my cigarette. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

The patrons of the bar and some from the dance floor around me looked on in bewilderment as Hexie galloped quickly over to help me up.

“Not now,” she pleaded quietly at me.

I rhythmically rubbed the side of my head with a hoof as I wobbled behind Crash Bug up the nearby white-backlit glass stairs that lead to her office, looking over the main room of The Underground. Hexadecimal helped to keep me up right as we entered the head office.

It was a beautifully stylish soundproof room with a soft brown carpet lining its floor, bulletproof windows to gaze out of, a plush grey loveseat right next to the exit door, a small, fully-stocked mini-bar next to the couch, a digital television playing the latest news stories from multiple channels with split screen, and a tall record player that stood by a massive shelf of vintage vinyls. A few band posters were hung on the wall including a DJ Pon3 ‘Resist’ poster featuring the white mare artist smiling determinedly at the camera while wearing a pair of purple-tinted shades with her blue and silver mix mane on full display. Of course, the main object in the room was a large dark wooden desk with two chairs facing opposite of a single, larger chair on the other side. Crash Bug sat down in her padded red chair behind the desk while Hexie assisted me over to the loveseat. Only after I was lying down on the chair did she grab a seat of her own. I levitated a new cigarette from my inner jacket pocket into my mouth and lit it. Crash Bug couldn’t hold back her grin.

“You know, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I asked, wincing a little from the pulsing pain in my head.

“So vulnerable.” She grimaced at my groans. “Anything I can get you to help with the pain?”

I took a long hit from my cig, pulling the small white and orange stick away from my mouth in my magic as I blew a large cloud of smoke into the air. I gestured to it, “I think I got that covered?”

Hexie smirked at my comment before speaking, “Let’s save the rest of the jokes ‘til after the business discussions, okay you two?”

Both Crash Bug and I nodded in agreement.

“So what can I do you for?” the zebra asked, taking a drink from a glass of whiskey in front of her.

“We need to locate those unreformed changelings that hired us,” Hexie said bluntly. “They left Afterburner and Hardcase to fight for themselves.”

Crash Bug just stared at the mare in disappointment, “You know the rules, Hexadecimal. After the payment is received neither party is required to protect the other.”

“That’s not the point,” I snapped at the zebra. “They didn’t stand and fight the corpo rats in front of us!”

“He makes an excellent point,” Hexie agreed.

Crash Bug sighed and reclined back into her seat, “Look I get it, but that’s a breach of buyer’s privacy.”

“Do you really think that matters at this point? The corpos already know everything about us, from our buying habits and decision making to our fucking sexuality. We’re asking for a favor,” came Hexadecimal’s cogent rebuttal.

The zebra mare got out of her chair to walk over to the windows of the office, which overlooked the patrons in The Underground. Her eyes flickered a soft green as she stared blankly out into the crowds. Crash Bug spoke in a tongue I didn’t know for a few minutes, but whatever she heard from the other end caused her to just nod in response. Her eyes returned to their flat green color as she turned around to us.

“I’ll get you what you need.”

I sat and took a hit from my cigarette. “Great! So where can we find them?”

“That part,” she took a deep breath, “Is the problem.”

“Nothing Detrot’s best Fixer and the owner of The Underground can’t handle,” Hexadecimal chuckled, failing to lighten up the mood. “R-right?”

“The owner can handle the problem,” Crash Bug said as she walked over to the vintage record player.

“But… aren’t you the owner?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No, no that’s my mom.”

“From what Melody told me,” Hexie’s expression turned sour, “your mom died…”

“Yeah.” The zebra opened the top of the record player and pushed a button on the inside. “She did.”

A seamless door in the wall slid open, revealing a new part of the room. Crash Bug smirked at Hexadecimal and my astonishment and shock. My Nirik reflection appeared in the desk’s main chair and pointed at the opening sarcastically. “I wasn’t even expecting that.”

I tried my best to ignore his comments as the zebra waved a metal hoof at us to follow. We both hopped out of our seat and walked into the new room. It was a bedroom lined with a music note wallpaper and a set of simple wooden stairs to the right leading further down. The door shut behind us as we followed Crash Bug to a lower level.

Reaching the bottom of the flight of stairs, we were presented with a long hallway with two studio-sized rooms on both sides, with windows peering into each. At the very end of the hall on the other side of an archway was an open space, appearing like a small auditorium. Our zebra guide continued to proceed towards the theater. I stared into each window to see what was on the inside. The left had a large server farm; its silver tower had neatly kept wires running all over the place with blinking green and yellow lights on the front of the racks in each tower. The window read a chilly 60 degrees fahrenheit. The other room was bathed in deep navy blues and pinks as a light opalish grey unicorn stallion with a spiky dark grey mane sat in a computer chair talking into a hanging high-end studio microphone that was connected to a massive RGB-lit computer system. Everything from his lower jaw down to his throat was replaced with shiny black and gold cybernetics. Two holes were placed on either side of his esophagus, similar to my own, but the unicorn’s were used for a different function. His Serenade cyberware, from SongBird, was designed to amplify the user’s ability to produce different vocal pitches, sounds and prevent the loss of voice; an extremely popular, and expensive, piece of technology of many musicians and singers. My modification was only installed for sound multiplication. Crash Bug waved to the stallion, who returned the gesture, then continued to speak into his microphone. The nameplate next to the door of the room read: “Love Doctor’s Studio”.

I pulled Hexadecimal away from his door before she could break in and ask a billion fangirl questions. Only after a few seconds of empty threats and whining did she finally submit and continue down the hallway with us. Above the archway to the auditorium on the ceiling was a beautifully painted mural of music and multiple colors of magic exploding away from a single center image; a large purple treble clef.

On stage was a single unicorn pony dancing between many different instruments, sound mixers and a central dual record table. They didn’t hear us enter due to the set of white, teal and purple headphones they were wearing. They bobbed their head up and down as their spiky blue and teal striped mane followed suit. We walked side by side straight down to the middle aisle of the theatre to meet the white pony on stage. They turned around, finally noticing us, and gleefully looked at us through their purple tinted shades; specifically, the unicorn looked at Crash Bug.

“My little love bug,” the mare said, the way someone addresses a child, while lifting her glasses and placing them above her horn on her forehead, revealing a pair of red eyes. “You even brought friends this time!”

I felt my heart skip a beat. Was the room as always spinning? I looked directly in the eyes of the white unicorn mare with a black double eighth note cutiemark, “V-Vinyl Scratch? The DJ Pon3?!”

“Don’t forget it!” Vinyl and the stage of musical equipment disappeared from in front of us, leaving Hexie and me in blissful confusion. Crash Bug smiled and giggled at our childish behavior. We all turned to find the source of a high pitched whistle from behind us. The DJ was resting in one of the theatre’s back row chairs. Her image flickered slightly as the white unicorn laughed at us.

“Before you two start bowing at my hooves, mind if I ask a question?”

The mare cut us off before either of us could respond.

“Good. Let me keep it a whole three bits with ya: which one of you is dating my daughter?” Vinyl glared daggers at Hexadecimal and me.

Hexie was failing to keep her composure, “I-I am, m-mam…”

The room was quiet enough for the sound of the server room’s fans to be heard. My young punk counterpart couldn’t calm her visible shaking. DJ Pon3 approached Hexadecimal, shook her head and let out a wide smile.

“How did she get so lucky!”

“Umm, if you don’t mind me just asking,” I cut into the conversation. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re having some friendly conversation,” Vinyl put her violet shades back on. “Try to keep up Speed-demon.”

My face immediately flushed with a hot reddish-pink color as I took a step back. I felt unbelievably small. The feeling left my mind completely blank.

“So, you kids are here to find that little pack of run away insects. Shouldn’t be too hard to find them, just let old DJ-Pon3 here work her magic for a second,” Vinyl said as she disappeared again.

I turned to Crash Bug, pointing an open hoof at the unicorn’s last location. “That’s your mom?!”

“Yeah, the old hag adopted Melody and I when we were little fillies.”

“I heard that!” Vinyl’s voice echoed throughout the room.

Crash Bug snickered as I jumped onto the stage and explored the surroundings. Objects were hidden by curtains in the wings of the stage. On the right side were piles of unorganized sound equipment, microphones and wires while the other side held instruments on racks and inside cases. But there was something further in the back inside a glass case that caught my eye. I pushed past the racks of instruments blocking the entrance of the left wing. Their dust was flying everywhere, causing me to sneeze every few seconds.

Finally, I got close enough to see what was in the glass case. It was a beautifully designed and crafted wooden cello with a very detailed ornate carving of a treble clef as its scroll. Whereas the cellos crafted nowadays were made out of materials such as plastic and synthetic wood, this was the real thing. Its ivory bow shimmered next to the instrument’s soft curves and under a violet bow tie. The metallic strings screamed out from its glass prison demanding to be played, but I didn’t think I could. The polished brass plate in the glass read: “The song has ended, but the melody lingers on.”

“It’s made out of Ashen Oak.” Vinyl walked past me towards the case. “She only accepted the best, and Kirins made the best.”

We locked eyes. “So she had it commissioned and sent to Detrot. The sound was always so beautiful and precise when she made it sing on stage. It took the listener out of this cruel world, even if only for a brief, blissful second. She was truly a cut above the rest.”

Vinyl Scratch paused and looked at the cello again. The white mare sighed as her image flickered briefly. I felt my skin crawl as my reflection placed a hoof on my shoulder. She looked me in the eye again; this time was a harder, more serious look, “So what about you, Afterburner? Surely a fan like you has an almost endless list of questions for me.”

Pulling out one of the thrones from a drum set nearby, I sat down and looked at my hero. “I don’t really know. I guess I just never thought this day would come.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Vinyl demanded. “Just speak what’s on your mind, dude.”

“Well, I guess I thought things would be different. That there would be an army ready to take down the corpo at your command.” I throw up my hooves in defeat. “I thought I would be worthy of joining. I know, stupid idea. Just another foal’s wild dream.”

“Cut yourself a break, kid. No one is the Celestia-sent hero that will guide us through this bloody revolution. Ponies are afraid to fight back because they don’t know how. They don’t want things to change due to fear of what tomorrow brings. It’s difficult for them to face change because they’re comfortable where they are. They’re used to their shitty job, the trash pile they call home and even their friends because, even if it’s not perfect, they accept it because it’s familiar.” She spoke of her cause with so much pride and determination that it filled my chest with an overwhelming warmth.

“We’ll be that light for them.”

“B-but how?” I tried desperately to find the words to convey my mixed emotions. “You’ve been doing this for years and still nothing has changed. What could someone like me do that you already haven’t?”

A digital screen appeared in front of me showing footage of yesterday’s job. Corpo drones and rats alike being gunned down by Hardcase’s machine gun from the back window of my car. The camera zoomed to try and catch my face, only seeing half of a wide smile. Vinyl gave a light chuckle. “You’re already doing what I couldn’t.”

The image blinked away as the sound of hissing and whining came from behind me. I watched as the robotic body’s dull grey shell was quickly replaced with Vinyl’s colors and matching holographic mane. The fake horn on the machine levitated a nicely folded sleeveless black tinted sweatshirt with a patch sewn into the collar. I accepted the gift with a crimson magical grasp.

“A DJ doesn’t need to play for an endless crowd of ponies to change lives. She just needs to play; even if the show is just for one.” She waved a hoof for me to follow her back down stage. “The search for your swiss cheese friends just finished. Let’s go make sure Hexadecimal doesn’t assault Neon.”

I paused, looking over my new digs. The DJ packet wasn’t the only thing that was changed on the fabric. A large set of Discord’s blue and white horns took up a majority of the back, being painted over a gold triangle breaking out of a deep blue ring.

“How do you know so much?!” I yelled after Vinyl’s robotic shell.

She paused and looked back. “I have eyes and ears everywhere. If it’s linked to cyberspace, I can breach and use it. Simple shit.”

I galloped up to her and changed into my new hoodie. The white unicorn mare grabbed my bloody, torn leather jacket with her teeth and placed it on her back. I tilted my head in confusion.

“I’ll get this fixed for you. Every DJ needs their own style and the sleeveless hoodie look is already in my family,” she said, walking downstage.

As I rounded the corner, I saw Hexadecimal gleefully chatting to the Love Doctor, who had come out of his studio. Judging by his uncomfortable shuffling and fake smile, I guessed it was a very one-sided conversation.

“So what do you bounce the signals of The Underground radio station off of in order to hide your location? A forum I’m on has been trying to track you down for years! You have to tell me!!” Her head swayed side to side while she talked the stallion’s ear off. Crash Bug was laughing her ass off just a row behind them.

She was sitting in the seat directly next to Neon, as Vinyl had called him. Neon gave a loud sigh of relief, “Vinyl! How about you answer this young mare’s questions, choom?”

DJ-Pon3 rolled her eyes as she just grinned. “Hexie, Neon Lights doesn’t know shit about tech. He’s just the voice behind the radio show and a small time musician on the side.”

“That’s cold, Vinyl,” Neon told her, getting out of his seat. “Well as nice as it’s been keeping you company, I gotta head back into the studio. The music break is almost over.”

Neon Lights walked back to his studio, bopping his head to the rhythmic sound of his hooves making contact with the ground. Vinyl wasted no time in leading the conversation. “The little bugs you dudes are hunting can be found on the border of the Evergreen and Vineyard districts.”

My heads up display lit up as a new link was added to my contact list; its picture being that of a B music note being sharpened on a treble clef staff. I chuckled at the name even though it was a terrible pun.

“With the cameras and drones in the area,” a picture of a pink and red neon-lit sign where a heart, with three little Xs inside its outline, just above its front door appeared in the corner of my HUD, “I found them here at the Wayward Pony. It’s a building located on the twentieth floor of the Moonlit Megabuilding. Trust me, the huge ass dark purple and neon blue dick of corpo architecture is really hard to miss.”

“So,” Hexadecimal blushed while looking down at the tiny invisible circle she was drawing with the tip of her hoof on the floor. “They’re hiding in a… D-doll House?”

“You gotta problem with whorehouses, Hexie?” Crash Bug’s eyes stopped flickering as she looked at the punk unicorn holding back laughter.

“It’s just…” Her body visibly shivered. “The idea of letting a fuck’n chip behind the wheel instead of yourself is just wrong. How could anyone be okay with forgetting everything their body does for six to eight hours at a time and continue with like everything is okay?”

“What other choice do they really have?” Vinyl asked.

Crash Bug gladly interrupted the awkward silence that was beginning to engulf the room by loudly clearing her throat.

“As much as I want to sit here and chat about the decaying organic matter in this city, I think both of you should get ready for your night on the town.”

“She’s right,” the white unicorn sighed. “Now CB I need—“

“Melody already got their car repaired and Stitch is waiting to have a talk with you about your recent cybernetics.” Crash Bug poked me in the center of the chest. “Don’t worry about price. Consider this a professional courtesy for your years of service.”

“Thanks.” It was the only response I could think of. Detrot was known for its weird shit, but seeing the dead walk again was crazy, and simple generosity crazier. I nodded my head and trotted through the center row of the theater towards the exit. I stopped under the arch and looked back.

“Is Gilded in?”

Crash Bug smirked, “She’s always in.”

“Hexie, I’ll meet you at the car later. Try to gather as much information and gear on the location as possible till then, if you don’t mind,” I hollered back while walking up the stairs out of the hidden lower level. The perfectly flush door slid open on my approach and I exited out of the bedroom, then out of the main office back into the neon rave lights of the Underground.

Following the neon lights that lit the carpeted floor to the opposite side of the room, where the bar stood, I took a right towards the private rooms held behind a sliding door and guard. The aqua dragon’s eyes flickered with yellow code as she scanned me on approach. She nodded and moved aside only after her software confirmed my partnership to the organization. The door opened to a large open space on the other side where many different creatures were gathered at tables discussing higher risk jobs than the contractors outside gave. The unoccupied fixers briefly looked at me walking towards one of the many rooms that connected to this hub before returning back to their drinks.

Stitch’s door had a large red ornate bowtie spray painted onto the translucent glass. His name formed just below it out of a needle and white thread that contrasted well against the black with gold detailing that made up the walls of the room. I pushed open the door and was immediately greeted to a quite large and fit cyan zebra with a flexible white tape measure dangling from his neck screaming at the holographic television screen. At first glance the stallion didn’t appear to be augmented, but upon a closer look fine silver lines were found all over his body.

“Fuck’n hell! How could she produce an outfit that tacky?! Shit! I could make a better dress out of a trash bag!” Stitch howled at his screen while slamming his hooves onto the desk.

“You good?”

The zebra finally noticed me. “Oh, Afterburner! Sorry about that. It’s just this new tv show called Thread. The cast is great but whoever did the research on actual outfit design doesn’t know shit!”

I snickered at his comments. “Soap operas are always like that. You can’t expect too much out of them.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Stitch, on a rolling stool, pushed himself over to a medical chair in the middle room. “Well, enough of me. I got a present for you! Now I know your birthday isn’t soon—“

I placed my cigarette into the ashtray on his desk. “You don’t know when I was born.”

“—but I thought you could use this gift now in light of recent events.” He completely ignored my comment and proceeded to pull out a container from just behind the silver seat. Stitch’s forehooves and eyes began to glow a bright blue as he levitated a black cybernetic hoof out of the box. “I know how much you like Chiron’s tech, but the recent models of hoof-cannons from Apex are quite amazing. Chambered in caseless 10mm that carries seven shots inserted to the flexible magazine from the port found in the inner bicep. Simply flex your elbow to channel the first round and cock back the hammer inside. A real elegant piece of cybernetics. I thought you’d prefer it over whatever basic shit you got there.”

“At this point,” I looked down at my black metal hoof, my distaste for it reflected on its surface, “I’ll take anything over this.”

The zebra grinned. “Excellent. Pop up onto the seat and I’ll get to work.”

I hopped into the seat then reclined back with the chair, placing my right forehoof onto the steel table Stitch pulled out. He immediately got to work. The zebra carefully undid the locks and connection points in my shoulder while pulling up a screen and inserting a jack into the port behind my ear. After a few moments, I lost all feeling in my right hoof as Stitch quickly removed it with his magic. He placed it in a pile of used, cheap forehooves, then lined up my new hoof on the table. Pain jumped all around my neck and rib cage while inserting the new cybernetic into my shoulder.

“I’m liking the new style. It complements the white short sleeve dress shirt and black tie,” the zebra said as he coded away on the screen in front of him. “But what happened to the jacket I made for you?”

The Nirik faded into my vision, blowing a ring of cigarette smoke in the air. “Tell ’em what happened. I want to see how this plays out.”

“It got torn…” I said slowly.

‘Why the fuck did I say that?!’

“What!” Stitch yelled, twisting the locks of the new cybernetic hoof into place in my shoulder. I gritted my teeth and hit the chair with my free hoof.

“How the fuck did you manage that?! That was cutting edge body armor woven into the leather! A bullet can’t even pass through it unless it was shot from a high powered rifle!” The zebra threw his hooves up and spun on his stool.

My shadow in the corner of the room laughed at my pain while pointing a hoof at me like a filly, not even trying to regain his composure. I did my best to ignore him. Me, I guess? I was still trying to work that out.

Stitch returned back to his work and with a few software commands, my new augmentation was connected to my nervous system. “Hold still for a few minutes. Just have to run some diagnostics to make sure you’re not gonna be dragging around a piece of dead weight on your body later.”

He paused for a breath.

“So,” The zebra was much more composed this time as he used one of his hooves to scan my entire body. “How did the jacket rip?”

“I had a run in with SomaTech.”

“Again?” He rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“Kid,” Stitch shook his head. “I get you don’t like them, but only taking jobs that fuck directly with them, or any corpos for that matter, is gonna get you killed. Why can’t you just be like other Solos?”

“Because someone has to stan--”

“Please spare me the lecture,” he groaned as he unplugged the jack from behind my right ear. “I know about your past. I’m just scared a young buck like you is going to throw their life away. Just like…”

I darted away from his eyes.

“Listen. At least think before you end up making a choice you’re gonna regret.”

“Far too late for that, choom!” my shadow yelled as he disappeared again.

“I-I’ll try,” I said, sounding as defeated as I could; I didn’t want Stitch to worry too much. At least with that answer he would grin and continue to do whatever older ponies did in their freetime. But instead of what I hoped for, I got a frown.

“Well at least now, if you do make a bad decision, you should be able to get out of it,” Stitch rolled himself back to his desk and began watching his show again. “Hopefully I will see you again.”

I got off my chair and wandered around the room, testing the feel of the new hoof before stopping at the door. “Thanks, Stitch.”

“Anytime.”

Pulling the door open, I exited into the luxurious-looking hub again and immediately hooked to the right towards a single large room with a set of tall oak doors. Unlike the rest of the building, not a single drop of paint had touched the room’s entrance, instead fading as the colors drew closer to the door. Four ponies, all dressed in nice suits with matching blue surgical gloves on their front hooves, exited out of the room. I held the door with my crismon magic and allowed them to pass first. The lead unicorn with a tan coat and silver combed back hair gave me a small nod of gratefulness.

After all members of his party had entered the hub, I walked through the door to be met with racks of fine wine bottles covering the side walls, and in the center was an ornately carved steel table covered with fancy cakes and other desert lining it at different levels, and the last half of the room, furthest away from the door, was flooded with weapons; everything from firearms to knifes. They were presented on racks and walls, with a few even being displayed on pony and griffon mannequins striking dynamic poses.

In the back was a tall orange-colored hippogriff with short, curly red hair that faded into pink highlights behind a glass display case table. In an elegant red and white designer suit dress, she was admiring a smart-pistol, watching it change at the end of the barrel from a normal slide to a powerful magical arc single shot form where the part of the metal slide expanded around the barrel. Gilded put the gun down as she noticed me walk in.

“Guid efternuin, Afterburner,” the hippogriff said in a trottish singsong-like tone as the scar that ran from the tip of her left ear to the corner of her mouth flexed with every spoken word. “Finally decided to take ma advice and get rid of the old wartime thing ye call a weapon?”

“No,” I responded to her smirk. “I need more firepower for my next job.”

“Well, whit would ye like to sample?” Gilded asked, waving a claw to gesture to the weapons that surrounded us.

“I’m gonna need something easily concealable, but still able to pack a punch.”

“Compact but powerful…” She murmured to herself as she thought. The hippogriff’s violet eyes seemed to light up as she flew over to a shelf and removed a small black pistol from it. Handing it over to me to test the sights, she spoke more on the weapon.

“The pony variant of Baby Eagle III, recent bairn of the Griffons engineers, chambered in .45 acp. Custom porting fer easier control both in mouth and magical grasp. Aluminum Talon style pistol grip fer less weight in the mouth and course a flared magwell to cut down on those reload times. Ten rounds per magazine.”

I placed the weapon back on the table. “Gonna also need a real showstopper in case things get out of hoof and I have to get a little creative.”

“Aye, A got the perfect gun for ye.” Gilded reached into the glass case in front of her and delicately placed a tan and black stockless shotgun onto the display case. “Deity Armaments’ Predator Steel 12g. fourteen inch barrel and super full choke. A built-in talon 1.5x digital scope fer more precise shooting with a three shell shotgun saddle fer faster reloads. Along with a Custom bolt carry release and charging handle. A farmer’s oldest and most reliable friend fer defence back in the day.”

The hippogriff laid out a tactical belt onto the table, along with five pistol magazines and an open white box of roughly thirty black shotgun shells with a single red-colored ring wrapping around it. She also placed a box of careless 10mm ammo next to the shotgun shells. Gilded raised one of the dark shells up to the lights, marveled at it’s design.

“These wee ‘uns came in yesterday. A new mixture of buckshot and slug designed to eliminate any cybernetic threats. Thanks to some insider information, we managed to take a shipment. Thought you might want them knowing your type of jobs.”

“They’ll work just fine,” I smiled, putting the belt on and placing pistol mags into it. “Same rate as always?”

“Ay. Just confirm the transaction,” she responded softly.

A small window appeared with a “Y” and “N” to confirm the money transfer. With a quick thought, I was twenty thousand bits poorer. Money always had a way of flying out of pockets and bank accounts. Both intentionally and not.

Loading each weapon took time, but with a helping claw from the hippogrif, I collected all my items. I holstered the Baby Eagle in my belt and strapped the shotgun to my back. I loaded my hoof cannon to its maximum capacity, then quickly flexed my elbow to the click of a chambered round. I stored the rest of the bullets in a pocket on the belt opposite of the shotgun rounds. With the ammunition organized to my likings and on my person, I bowed my head to her and started for the door.

“Thank ye, and hae a guid nicht, Afterburner.” Gilded tilted her head slightly and smiled before returning to her collection of fine items and weapons as I exited the room.

The next client for Gilded’s services entered the room after I passed by them: a mare who gave me a light smile. I pulled up my jacket’s hood and began to make my way towards the entrance of the club, not wanting to converse with any other lost souls there. The bouncer at the front door nervously stepped aside as I climbed the neon lit stairs into the back stockade room of the Electric Fetus. Instead of going towards the store, I continued through the dusty, packed backroom to a door on the far end. Pushing it open with my crimson magic, I was greeted by Melody and Hexadecimal packing equipment into the recently fixed Ford. Sparks flew around me as I made my way to the pair through the small army of mechanics fine tuning and repairing vehicles of all kinds.

“Looking sharp,” Hexie said, tossing me a packet of white and gold cigarettes. “You forgot those in your other jacket.”

“Thanks.” I blushed at my little blunder before lighting up a cig and placing the packet in my new one’s pockets.

“Well, we patch up really quick and apply new coat of paint but what the helvetin helvetissä you do to front drive shaft?! It took few small favors but it should ride like dream again,” an older dark grey deer, an eight point rack on his head, covered in grease and mud with a dirty towel around his neck said in a rough Deerdic accent; an old language spoken in the northern part of Stalliongrad.

“Sorry about that, Sisu.” I levitated my shotgun into the car’s backseat next to my PDW. “I had to get a little creative with the last job.”

“Well,” the old buck sighed, “don’t do it again, lapsi, or I ain’t fixing your ride ever again!”

As Sisu moseyed away, I hollered after him, “You said that last time!”

“Oikeasti! This is the last time!”

I chuckled. He’d been saying that same thing for the last three years. He loved my car too much to not fix it.

“So, everything you asked for is in the back,” Sweet Melody told us.

“What’d you get?”

“A few new toys and some explosives for you.” Hexie gave a toothy grin at my raised eyebrow. “Oh come on! We both know you love making discord. Just packing it in case you want to get ‘creative’ again.”

“I don’t…” The pink unicorn’s eyes seemed to sparkle as Hexie smirked. “Fuck, fine. I guess I do like a little mayhem.”

Melody pecked a kiss on Hexadecimal’s neck and winked, causing the punk mare to heat up with a large blush. “I gotta head back to the shop. Make sure to get back in one piece for tonight.”

With that, the zebra sauntered away. Hexie was trying to hide her embarrassment by burying her face in her hooves. I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned her head to look at me. Gesturing to the car with my head, the unicorn got up and entered into the passenger seat of the vehicle. I eased my plot into the Ford’s well-worn driver’s seat, waiting for Sisu to open the garage door.

I turned to Hexadecimal, “What was the address again?”

Her eyes flickered their neon blue as she searched her notes. “780 Evergreen District at the corner of Sparkle and Rose Street.”

I turned up the engine with the keys that were already in the ignition; the Ford gave me a ferocious roar in response. I entered the address into my orange heads-up display and techno-styled arrows appeared on the ground in front to the desired destination. I switched the radio onto The Underground station, which was currently playing a slow soul song about coming back stronger than ever, like the seasons. Putting her in gear, we exited out of the garage into a side alley, then onto the main street. I took a drag of my cigarette and opened the window, tapping the ashes off the end of it on the open ledge before returning it to my muzzle.

‘Don’t worry, Hardcase,’ I thought to myself as I noticed my shadow appear in the backseats, lying down with his hooves behind his head. ‘We’ll fight anyone; we’ll fuck up everyone that wronged you. The job isn’t settled yet.’