Pizza, Liquor & Lead

Saturdays were great days.

The end of each school week was an institution for all students. It didn’t matter if you wanted nothing more than to lay around until noon, were off on a fun weekend activity, or to simply use the two free days to catch up on late homework, everyone had some plan for the weekend. And with spring having been officially sprung thanks to the previous week’s Winter Wrap-Up, there were now many more outdoor activities to explore. But even on the weekend the S.o.F still had plenty of students hanging around the campus, and two of them were hard at work tending to the school’s newest club.

One of them was a blue feathered griffon wearing an equally blue old hoodie with torn-off sleeves and a black short sleeved undershirt to somewhat make up for it. His blue sports pants had a few minor tears in them and the black sneakers protecting his hind paws had some scuffs all around. On his beltline was his trusty tape player pumping out good beats to the headphones covering his ear holes. Headphones which he pulled down around his neck when it came time to focus.

The Amimmodore PAL was an impressive computer for its time and was a mainstay in educational applications, but in the modern era it was getting a bit long in the tooth. The one before the griffon certainly showed its age with some oxidation of the plastic, but apart from that it was in functional order and struck a presence with its angular monitor housing that was incorporated into the chassis along with the keyboard. The design was also incredibly easy to perform any maintenance on due to its clamshell top, which had been propped open by its integrated proprod as the griffon poked around inside with a screwdriver.

As the griffon removed the mainboard and prepped it for desoldering, his lime colored pony companion was already applying his iron to the solder joints of a row of memory modules that needed replacing on an identical board. His combination of green tee, green sweatpants, and green sneakers were lightly dusted by dirt and a little grime from a few of the machines he’d already worked on. His much newer Memarex cassette player was tucked securely into his pocket and one of his turtle shaped headphone drivers was in its rightful place on his left ear while the right was pulled back to allow him to hear his environment as well.

Unlike the griffon who easily used his talons to undo and solder components, the pony used circuit board clamps along with a combination of a little soldering iron holder that could be slid around on his working surface and a bracer which could secure the iron to a free hoof. He wasn’t sure which method would be ultimately faster, but he preferred the slower holder as it gave him more precision in tight spots. He may not finish as fast as his friend, but not having to redo any joints later on was far more palatable.

The big room they were working in was originally a workshop, but over its few years of service it had evolved to suit another need. When the school first started out, computers weren't considered to be a factor in the curriculum. Personal computers were fine, but everything else was analog. But with the sheer number of computers being brought in and students interested in them, a computer club had been formed. The space they were allotted was in the back of the general workshop, well away from the woodworks and any sawdust.

A whole bunch of older desktop PC's were set upon a long row of desks which completely spanned the allotted space. They were a mismatch of machines which had been scrounged up by club members to learn and play on without worry of harming their own rigs.

Things had popped off nicely with that arrangement, but with growth came notoriety and the administration had started to accept computers as viable tools on campus. They had finally agreed to a modernization of the typing class and the club would be responsible for helping to make that a reality.

On the floor in front of the desks was a row of identical computers. They were all bulky desktop machines with integrated displays and would serve a good purpose, but only when they were ready. And in every other area not designated for a computer were shelves and bins full of old but still functional components and wires being kept as spares, along with many books related to the computers and computing in general. The pony shot a quick glance at the row of PAL's waiting in the wings and for a second he wished he had a few more sets of hooves to just make things go a little faster.

"It's a shame the others couldn't help us out," Sandbar almost mumbled as he gently removed a motherboard from the clamps. "Even though this is delicate work, Yona and Silverstream could have easily helped us move things around. And Ocellus would have probably finished the whole row by now"

Gallus had finished working on his motherboard and had just set it back into its parent machine. “I hear ya, but they had plans.”

He grunted a bit as he plugged some of the more fiddly connections back in. “Nngh. Besides, once we get these all upgraded we’ll finally be allowed computers in typing class. Just imagine it, once we’re done with our assignments we can play games or check out the latest web pages instead of sitting around bored. A-and it will also be much more comfortable for our claws and hooves and whatnot.”

Sandbar had gotten the next board clamped up with delicate precision, and with a free hoof he pulled a couple of replacement memory modules out of a small cardboard box which still had a shipping label slapped to its side. “I’m pretty sure comfort and efficiency were the first reasons you gave the headmare for upgrading. But do we really need this much memory? QuillStar only needs eight KB.”

Gallus could only groan at that. “Because we want to only have to be in this position once. Better to go whole hog now with the full sixty-four than constantly upgrading.”

The memory was a mild point of contention between the two. Sandbar wanted to minimize costs by only upgrading what was necessary for their needs while Gallus wanted to spend a bit more as he felt the much higher capacity would benefit them in the long run. Sandbar had ultimately agreed with Gallus, but the amount of extra work still weighed on him.

After a minute or so of silence, Sandbar brought up another thing that had been in the back of his mind as of late.

“You know, I may have a way to help make up for the holiday.”

Gallus was testing one the upgraded machines to see if all the new modules were functional, but that didn’t stop him from becoming completely distracted by the prospects he’d just been given. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. One of my distant relatives passed on. I never knew him, but I was given a key to a storage unit just outside town.”

“A storage unit you say?” Gallus asked while getting to work on another machine. “What’s in it?”

Sandbar shrugged. “That’s the thing. From what I’ve been told, nopony knows what’s inside.”

“And you were going to tell me about this when…?”

It was now Sandbar’s turn to check over the machine he was working on, and with the memcheck running its test he carried on the conversation.

“Well, I kinda had a hard time finding the spot. The guy was supposedly rather secretive so I guess he chose a place on the outskirts.”

“So we have an old locker full of mysteries, left behind by your dead relative who didn’t want ponies snooping around, and you got the key?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You know what?” Gallus grunted as he picked up the next computer in line and shuttled it over to the workspace. “I like those odds!”

Sandbar was a bit confused by that. He knew Gallus to be an exceptionally good haggler, able to snag great deals from pawn shops and other outfits like them, but gambling was something the griffon steered clear of.

“Really now? I never took you for a betting type.”

“Don’t go thinking I’m gonna start hanging around the casino. Thing is, back home we have plenty of old units chock-full of stuff, but it’s usually worth jackshit as all the good stuff gets hoarded like crazy. But here? I have better hopes that things of worth could be found. And given that it's only a few minutes away, why not roll the dice, right?”

“Well that’s good to hear. Wasn’t sure you’d bite on this or not.”

“Given our circumstances, any opportunity is a good one. And if things don’t pan out, then there’s always an afternoon at the arcade and pizza.”

Gallus looked down the line of computers they had yet to touch, and he guessed that they had a good couple hours of upgrading before heading out for the day. “Speaking of pizza, we’re gonna need something to fuel us as we check out that unit. Think you could swing some Tiny Toppers and soda?”

“Sure thing. I think I have some One Two Three Bit Store coupons floating around in my room.” Sandbar chuckled. “Somewhere.”

“Just make sure to get the freshest ones you can as that’s the only time they’re good. I mean, for a five bit pie you 'd think they’d find a way to make them better cold.”

Two hours of work later…

The block of old storage units was a bit of a surprise to Gallus. He'd seen plenty of similar places back home, sure, but somehow he'd expected something which was at least a bit cleaner. No, this one was like all the others; rusty roll up doors, cracking brickwork, and despite Ponyville having virtually no crime, the taggers had had their way with it in quite a few places. The Griffon did crack a grin at this as it reminded him that no society was free of chaos, even ones built around harmony.

Without a Sandbar in sight, Gallus found a seat in the form of a short divider wall and passed the time with his aptly named Game and Time. It was a far cry from a Game Colt, but considering it had come out of a cereal box, he'd found enjoyment in its free nature. As the little hoofheld beeped and booped with each button press as he fought for the high score, his thoughts drifted to the warm midday sun bearing down on the nape of his neck. Having come from a location known for its treacherous winters, the balmier weather of Equestria was more than welcome even though her summers could be sweltering at times. Even though most snow in the area had melted, it would have been another month or two before weather even remotely similar graced Griffonstone, and that would be the only time he’d ever consider visiting.

Clopping hooves brought him out of the game in short order, and Gallus watched with mild amusement as the pizza pony trotted up the side street. He was laden with two brown and orange trimmed boxes and two bottles of soda in liter capacity, and that made his movement a bit slow and awkward. A bit like a sea turtle on land, Gallus thought snidely as he lost the ball in-game.

Sandbar slowed when he saw his friend, but was still huffing when he crossed the final few yards. "Sorry for taking so long." He gasped. "Long line at the pizza joint."

"Eh, don’t worry about it."

Gallus clicked off his handheld and stuffed it into his pocket. He then hopped off the wall and arched his back in a stretch. "So, which one is yours?"

Sandbar took a quick glance down the row. "It's, ah, thirty-two. That's pretty far down, wanna eat first?"

While Gallus had heard -- and understood -- the hopeful tone, fifteen minutes was far too long for a bird like himself to be sitting around. He wanted to move, to pounce upon the opportunity presented, and a colder slice of an already cool pizza was a worthy sacrifice, to him at least.

Sandbar wasn't so keen on that philosophy, brows knitting together. "As far as I know that unit hasn't been opened in over fifty years, I'm sure it can wait another five minutes."

For a moment, Gallus was nonplussed. But with a goofy curl in his beak, he hefted one of the bottles off of Sandbar's back and tucked it into his elbow and snatched up one of the pizzas.

"Why not both?"

Without any more conversation, Gallus took off towards the gate at a fair clip. Even on hind legs, the griffon still moved quick enough for Sandbar to have to canter pretty good to keep pace. Moreover, he was able to both unscrew the cap from his soda and take a drink, then open the lid on his pizza and start snacking on a slice, all with his free talon. Sandbar was nowhere near as dexterous, so he'd just have to find a table or something to eat on inside.

The low numbered units were quite small, no more than closet sized at best, just big enough for some personal belongings. They got bigger in the middle, roughly the size of a garden shed and could house some big appliances and tools. Thirty-four was six places away from the end of the row, and with it being the size of a garage there was excitement over what was within.

"This is it, Gallus."

Sandbar produced an ancient looking key out of his pocket and jammed it into the lock. It was beefy, and the locking mechanism was just as. Whoever this relative was, they clearly did not want unauthorized access to their things, which was a good sign in their case. It also meant that disuse had taken its toll if the way the key had to be wiggled to finally catch was any indication. With the assistance of hoof and claw, the old door rattled upward, and an interior which hadn't seen the light of day in ages was revealed.

The first thing the duo could note was the fact that this wasn't a bum deal. There were plenty of things in view -- most of which were wooden crates with dry straw poking out between the boards and bulging cardboard boxes -- but there were a few outliers. Half a table stuck out from a pile of clothes fit for an older generation and an old wardrobe was partially obscured by a canvas tarp. And just to the side of the door was some type of workbench with a large toolbox atop it.

The second thing being Sandbar's assertion that the unit hadn't been opened in at least half a century. A thick layer of dust coated all things and there was a distinct aroma emanating from the space. It smelled like the very air within had been preserved for an entire generation, but it wasn't musty or rancid so they had that bonus going.

"Now let's see what we got here!"

Gallus was the first to venture forth, and he headed right for the half-exposed table. Sandbar briefly wondered why of all things the griffon was drawn to a pile of old clothes, but when he unceremoniously shoved them onto the floor he got a good clue. A nice, dust free half of the table had been exposed, and Gallus was already putting his meal down there.

"See?" Gallus laughed. "This place is already paying off."

"Wow," Sandbar remarked as he trod in. "He sure kept a collection."

For the next few minutes, the duo took time to enjoy their meal while taking a look at some nearby boxes. It was mostly very old toys with some books mixed in, and those didn't hold much value. One of them however did contain an old toaster and some cookware. That was a little better, but they still held hope for better finds. While searching through an old milk crate layered up with straw, Sandbar came across the first item of note.

"I found a Polarak, the first instant camera."

At first glance, the exceptionally old camera was in good shape for its age. There was visible wear on the edges and he could feel imperfections under his hoof, but otherwise it was cosmetically fine. What mattered more was its internal condition, so he pulled out the lens block to see that things looked okay there too with no tears in the boot or metallic corrosion.

"Looks alright, but I can't vouch for its functionality."

Gallus stared at the find for a few seconds, then nodded. "Sweet. That'll fetch some bits from the right buyer. Maybe one of the art guys at school or a camera geek online."

So far, the boxes within Gallus's reach held nothing interesting. He would have to dig deeper, so with a bellyful of pizza and a final glug off his soda he did just that. There was better luck in searching the bigger boxes, which occasionally held some old interesting electronic devices to examine. It was a crystal radio first, followed by a crank-up phonograph missing its horn, and then a chest full of its records.

When Gallus opened the wardrobe he didn’t expect too much. A few shirts here, a few jackets there, but when he parted those to the sides his pulse quickened. He had spotted the vague outline of a pull out cover in the green velvet back wall and he immediately set to work getting it open. It wasn’t unheard of to have secret compartments in furniture for things like liquor, drugs, or money, but what he found hanging from two hooks within surpassed the value of any of those things.

“Stars above don’t let my eyes fuck with me! Let this be real!”

Sandbar knew that Gallus would eventually find something to his liking, but the way the dude started shrieking like a schoolfilly going on a date with her crush wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting. The pony quickly swallowed down his bite of pizza, and then went over to try and see what had the griffon up in arms.

“What is it?”

“A blunderbuss.”

Gallus’s answer was short, to the point, and so far out of left field that Sandbar was left sputtering in response.

“A blunderbuss?! You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Double-barrel, too.”

The pony was miffed at Gallus’s assertion. As far as he knew, no members of his family possessed, or felt the need to possess something as serious as a firearm. The closest thing to a firearm he’d ever come across was Professor Pie’s party cannon and the howitzer Counselor Trixie liked to fire herself out of on weekends, but personal firearms were beyond his league. His mind made itself up; this was just another of the griffon’s practical jokes. Either that or his buddy was just being too optimistic.

“C’mon dude, you’re shitting me.”

Gallus unlatched what he’d found from the wardrobe and brought it out to see, his beak curled up in a hearty grin. “Does that look like I shit you?”

Sandbar gaped at what Gallus held within his claws. He’d at least expected something basic and utilitarian, but even with his limited knowledge he could tell that the weapon was none of those things. The first thing his eyes focused on were the gigantic, gold plated double barrels which flared out aggressively and the intricate engravings that encircled them. Next was the mechanism which allowed loading and the two-headed hydra statue which lived there. The little details carried on throughout all the other metal parts which were cradled in a combined stained wooden stock and foregrip that despite its age still held a muted sheen. And adding credence to it being owned by a pony, the disproportionately large trigger guard and accompanying paddle shaped trigger were tailored for hooves, but those with claws, hands, or in Gallus’s case, talons could certainly operate it as well.

The pony was in awe of the whole package and any misgivings about firearms in the family had been quickly forgotten. “Wow… that’s impressive.”

Gallus chuckled. “I know, right? It’s cool as shit. Whoever your old-old man was, he had great taste as this is far more than just a looker.”

The griffon grabbed onto the heads of the hydra and pulled it up and forward to open the action.
“See.” A claw was pointed at the exposed chambers. “It’s a breechloader. Not too spectacular but super cool nonetheless.”

The claw moved to the area of the flintlock just aft and to the side. “And this also has a self-filling charging pan which means whoever fires this thing only has to reload before firing again. Way faster than any traditional blunderbuss!”

Sandbar didn’t know what was more concerning. The fact that the blunderbuss was very real or Gallus’s expertise surrounding such weapons in the first place. Of course, the griffon wasn’t finished yet.

He placed the big, nasty weapon on the table and went back to the wardrobe. He returned with a tarnished tin and pulled the lid off to reveal several rolled paper tubes within. “Just as I thought.” He plucked one of the tubes out for inspection. “He kept a few pre-made ammo packs around. All you have to do is stuff one of these bad boys into the breech and drop the trapdoor. It’ll automatically cut the tail off and everything!”

For a brief moment of trepidation, Sandbar thought Gallus was going to do exactly as described. But in spite of his excitement, the griffon put the single round back with its brethren and relidded the tin. Breathing a (mental) sigh of relief at not having a loaded gun sitting around, his mind started to wonder why Gallus was getting so excited.

“Why are you going so wild over this? Even if we can legally pawn it, who’s seriously going to buy it?”

With all the energy of nightmare night foal with a sackful of free candy, Gallus fervently carried on. “Because this thing is worth more than all of my and most of your possessions combined! It’s worth maybe eight, possibly ten grand to a museum, given something like this today is incredibly rare. I mean, it's spotless. Probably only ever fired a few times.”

“Is it seriously worth that much?”

Sandbar was gobsmacked at just how much the blunderbuss was worth, and felt that Gallus might have been pulling his leg. But the bird did have an eye for value and he was always very close in his staking. So, Sandbar nodded along.

“Well, if that’s here there might be more like it.”

Now filled with an abundance of energy, Sandbar began to search in earnest for valuables. While he still picked through crates in a normal fashion, the same could hardly be said of Gallus. True to his partial feline nature, the griffon had turned his search into a reenactment of all the spy movies he’d watched with Smolder and the gang whenever they’d pay the local cinema a visit. He ducked, rolled, and dove all over the place, sticking to cover and concealment while pointing the business end of the unloaded blunderbuss into corners and ordering baddies to come out with their talons up.

It was hard to ignore the antics happening around him, but Sandbar still made efficient work of sifting through the last few crates on the floor for items of note even though he had nothing to show for it. All that was left to check was the wall of boxes at the back of the unit. It was a bizarre choice to have stacked cardboard boxes in that one area with all the other places which could have been occupied, but it wasn’t his place to judge the mentality of deceased relatives. What he could complain about was not quite being tall enough to reach the highest boxes. Even on the tips of his hind hooves it was just out of reach and one of the wooden crates didn’t help matters much. He even tried hopping once, but once the stability of his perch came into question that was given up real fast.

“Oh come on,” Sandbar groused. “Why can’t I be just a little taller.”

Things would have been much easier if his assistant wasn’t gallivanting around with a gun, so he called out. “Hey, Con Mane! Think you could put that thing down for a sec and – Whoa!”

With a splintering crack, the lid of the milk crate Sandbar was standing on gave way. Loss of balance forced him to latch onto one of the stacked boxes to regain it, which only resulted in the entire wall collapsing upon him.

Gallus was quick to cease his shenanigans and deposit his new toy onto the table before bounding over to dig Sandbar out.

“Hey! You okay dude?!”

With a muffled groan as the only response, Gallus began pulling boxes away. Fortunately, whoever had created the stack had the insight to place the lightest objects on top as all that had toppled out were old clothes and bedding, so the pile was very easy to shift to the side. The griffon then helped Sandbar to his hooves, with the pony being quick to wave off any concerns.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Just… fell on my ass is all.”

Sandbar formulated concerns of his own concerning Gallus’s typical remarks, or lack thereof. The silly bird usually had some snarky thing to say after such an occurrence, but this time he stared ahead with beak agape. Fast to the understanding that the griffon’s gaze went past himself, the pony looked to where the box stack used to be and experienced the same reaction as his companion.

It was a wheeled carriage for certain, but it was unlike anything he’d ever seen around Ponyville. The sedan body shape was recognisable if not very high-end, but in the front where one would expect provisions for a team to pull it there was a cowled nose which vaguely resembled a locomotive boiler. Most of the body had been painted a deep forest green with fenders and running boards an inky black. Metal rimmed, wood spoked wheels wrapped with some crusty flat tires held it proudly up, and all the special chrome bits and bobs still shone as though it had just rolled out of the showroom.

Sandbar knew what he was looking at, but Gallus truly knew what it was.

“It's a Stallion Steamer!”

If the blunderbuss hadn’t stoked a fire in the griffon’s soul, then the literal biggest find of all certainly did. First he bounced in place on giddy heels, then he danced around for a fashion, as though he’d hit a motherlode of gold.

Sandbar could only shake his head. I am so glad I didn’t just sell the unit off.

Now truly smitten with his luck that day, the pony happily got close to the steamer in order to peek through the glass. He tried the door, and to his pleasant surprise it was unlocked. The interior was so well preserved that it felt like entering a time capsule and it even retained a new furniture smell. The seats looked bulbous and plush, and indeed they were under a curious hoof. Any other thoughts on the condition of the sedan were whisked away however when he spotted something peculiar on one of the front seats.

It was a photograph and an old one at that. Whenever it was taken it most certainly would have been in black and white, but through the years it had yellowed considerably. He wondered if it had been taken with the old Polarak he’d found as it would have fit the era of everything else in the unit, but when he truly examined the content of the photo his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Gallus’s spurt of energy had died down enough for him to stop dancing and go back to snacking on the remaining pizza. With the unbelievable fortune that had befallen him and his friends by extension, things were looking bright for a change. There were many big things which could be had with such coin, but one of the smaller things was that the griffon wouldn’t have to suffer the soggy cardboard which tried to pass for pizza any longer. He wasn’t able to think on that further as Sandbar approached with something in hoof and an excited glint in eye.

“You won’t believe what I found in that steamer.”

Gallus had just taken a big gulp of soda when the photograph was flashed before his eyes, and he did best not to spit-take directly onto it. The similarities were just too close to ignore.

“I know, right? He looks just like me.”

Sandbar was hardly wrong in that regard. The grinning earth stallion pictured may have been monochromatic but his facial features and mane were a near match to his own even with the time that separated the distant relatives. His foreleg was wrapped behind the shoulders of a taller griffon who was happily returning the gesture. They must have been good friends as the duo were standing in what appeared to be an old Appaloosan style saloon with the decor expected of such a place.

“Wow,” Gallus crowed. “No wonder you and I hit it off so well. Your family’s got griffon blood in it. Not the pushovers I had thought they were.”

“Hey now, no need for any of that,” Sandbar chuckled.

The griffon may have been quick to humor, but a bizarre thought had simultaneously planted itself in the back of his mind. Somehow, he knew that bird. It was unlikely they’d ever crossed paths physically, but maybe it was some bird he’d heard of through Grampa Gruff or Gilda even though he couldn’t recall such a conversation.

“Hm, I wonder what those two would have done for fun back in the day?”

Sandbar’s musing brought everything back to the present. Gallus took a moment to get a proper drink of his soda before wondering what their association was.

“Well, judging by that, they were quite close. Maybe, I don’t know, they’re hunting buddies.”

Sandbar rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to mask his skepticism. “Really. Hunting buddies.”

“Okay,” Gallus relented. “Bit of a stretch, but maybe he was into meat or simply enjoyed the hunt.”