Fallout Equestria: Lionheart

Some dairy cow had barged into the room, slamming a forelimb onto the Sheep's table clad in a pink leather band. A bulky and steel-clad single-board computer was mounted upon this band, displaying a four-by-three monochrome Calculator screen with a rotating dial beside it and three buttons beneath it. Her short pixie-cut was as blue as Sparky's hat, which, I remind you, was as blue as Rainbow Dash's asscheeks. “Fix my Pip-Buck!”

“I-I don't know how!” Protested the Sheep.

“Yes you do!” She insisted. “You must know, or they wouldn't have hired you! Now fix it!”

“I can't!” The sheep started crying.

The annoying customer shouted some more nonsense.

What a drag...

He didn't want to have to pretend he was fine...

So he hated this job, and how it forced him to interact with the most entitled customers imaginable.

He really only had to do the bare minimum in this job... usually.

It wasn't like they'd ever pay him more for doing more.

Of course, they usually demanded more from him anyway.

This really wasn't any of his business.

He didn't like anyone in this room, and they didn't like him.

But right now, he felt like doing something good for someone else.

Sparky forced a smile onto his face, but with his lips shut. Panicky prey animals rarely responded well to seeing the big toothy grins that came naturally to him. “Hey there, I can help you!”

“Finally!” The customer shouted, trotting over to him smugly and slamming her PipBuck onto his table. “Someone qualified.”

And then she looked at him long enough to notice he was a white lion with a long blonde mane that covered one of his golden eyes, and a long Unicorn horn that extended from his forehead. But rather than the rounded end of a normal Unicorn, his spiral-coated horn was thicker at the base, thinner at the top, tapering with a deadly spike on the end. In horn length alone, he could have given Princess Luna herself a run for somepony's money by matching her horn length exactly. This wasn't just a horn for magic, it was also a horn for piercing, and the spiralling horngroove highlighted how each horn segments bulged at the base, adding a triangular zigzagging sawtooth texture to the length of his horn. His horn had a lot of edges, but it was still less edgy than the average thief outside this Stable's walls.

She looked displeased at the sight of him, and uncomfortable with the idea of talking to him.

“Welcome to Life Bytes, the best tech store in Stable Sixty-Nine! Pay for six yearly overpriced smartphone revisions that upgrade nothing, and the seventh is half price! Ask about our reasonable rates for PipBuck repairs before you get something that'll need fixing every few months! What seems to be the problem?” He asked her.

“If I knew that, I'd fix it myself! Now fix it!” The catty cow hissed cattily through grit bovine teeth, suddenly over her fear of him.

“A PipBuck repair will set you back four hundred bits,” He told her, not that he'd see any of that cash.

“But I got this two months ago! Shouldn't it still be under warranty?”

He smiled. “Oh, this business's warranty policies are terrible. Literal lies. Total scams. Trust me, you're better off buying a better machine from a better store where the workers are allowed to say any PipBuck after the second model isn't worth buying. I'm not allowed to tell you any PipBuck after the second model isn't worth buying, so I'm not telling you any PipBuck after the second model isn't worth buying.”

“Why are you saying that over and over?”

“I'm actually telling you any PipBuck after the second model isn't worth buying over and over,” He nodded, “Because I'm not allowed to tell you the PipBuck models we sell are preowned sixty-year-old pieces of garbage barely refurbished - aka slightly cleaned - before being sold for full price or higher as if they're top-quality products. I'd be arrested for saying any PipBuck after the second model isn't worth buying, so I've decided not to tell you that. Wink wink. Nudge nudge.”

“Just fix my fucking PipBuck already.”

“Alright, alright.” The half-Lion Unicorn hopped to his paws and walked around his desk...

He ignored how visibly nervous this bitch became at the thought of having a meat-eater so close to her limb. He was used to it.

He was used to their fear, their hatred, for doing nothing wrong.

He tried not to recall his lonely high school memories, seated solo on a swingset as all of the other prey kids played alone or invented and proceeded to spread the cruellest rumors imaginable about him.

There was no time for flashbacks.

There was work to be done.

He sat on his fat arse - women loved it - and held out his forelimbs, offering them up. “May I see your PipBuck?” He asked.

She slowly and hesitantly extended her PipBuck-clad limb into his muscular arms and powerful paws.

He could smell something on her, and it disgusted him. Fear, hatred, and... Wow, she was one horny cunt.

He had to get this over and done with before he threw up...

He began fucking around with random buttons and dials for a few seconds to check if she'd pull away or flee or start shouting nonsense, but after determining she was alright with his presence, he began to get to work for real.

He accessed her inventory screen with the push of the button labelled with a symbol for a box, and he hated when PipBuck models used symbols instead of words, and after flicking down the vertically-rotating mechanical dial beside the touch screen by one click, the canine before him was no longer clad in a yellow sundress. Instead, she now wore a white one.

He glanced at her to check that her outfit had changed appropriately, and returned his gaze to the Inventory screen, clicking his way through the menu as data magic within her machine spontaneously swapped out one saved outfit for another. A blue sundress, a slutty miniskirt and sluttier belly-shirt combo, a cowprint bikini, a complex web of interconnected latex straps and leather belts that left just one of two holes to the imagination, a clown costume, a slutty nurse's outfit, a comfortable blue jumpsuit made of what advertisements proudly called 'post-space-age magical polymers' with a big gold sixty-nine on the back that would always fit any body size perfectly while feeling like nothing at all, nothing at all, nothing at all but some slutty pink and blue striped socks, and a dark grey onesie with fake bunny ears and a fake white rabbit tail on the ass.

“Your inventory function seems to be working normally,” He noted as he flicked her outfit selection back to what she'd worn when she entered here. Sparky had ignored his colleagues and how they had been checking the fat cow out the whole time...

How could they possibly be into that?

With that job done, he pressed the Inventory button and again until he came to the stored Weapons section.

And it was...

Bizarre.

“Why is this blank?” He asked. “Where are your weapons?”

“Silly beast! I don't carry guns, because you're more likely to be shot if you do,” She smirked smugly at him, as though she was proud to remember some obvious truth she believed he'd simply forgotten.

He kept his face neutral with a great deal of effort, because he didn't want to get fired for letting her know how stupid she sounded. Customers who shouldn't be trusted with technology never responded well to having their egos challenged.

But still, holy shit, what an idiot.

What, did she think all weapons were enchanted to attract trouble?

Why bother enchanting them for that when you could enchant weapons to do sick nasty shit with every hit, like burning motherfuckers alive or freezing them to death or giving them cancer or twisting their dicks off?

He wished he was allowed to carry some sick firearms like that, but despite working two jobs, he was too poor for the multiple license fees, license renewal fees, ammo taxes, gun taxes...

The best weapon he carried was a large wrench. A big old spanner with a nice long handle that could extend if you bit down on a button hidden in the tactical rubberized handle a certain way, double-tapping the hidden internal button. Two more taps of that button would retract the collapsible handle for convenient carrying. Perfect for turning this short melee weapon long enough to rival sledgehammers. Triple-tap the button and you'd adjust how close the left tooth of the adjustable wrench's head was to its other tooth.

He just wished he was allowed to telekinetically lift the damn thing, instead of having to make do with his mouth, but the bitchy rodent in charge of this Stable had set up anti-magic gemstones around most floors in this hellhole of a shelter. She claimed it was to stop anyone with Unicorn DNA left over from before the war having any unfair advantages over others, even though nothing was being done to level the playing field when it came to advantages prey animals enjoyed over meat-eaters.

He was also glad his job gave him an excuse to carry the wrench without getting arrested for “Possession of a deadly weapon”. The hallways to and from work certainly weren't getting safer, and he'd heard horror stories of innocents getting arrested and made into examples for having kitchen knives in their home just so the police could be seen doing something.

“Pretty sure armed mares who've been jumped at night on their way home would disagree with you,” He shrugged noncommitally, because he just couldn't help himself, the truth had to be told. "Not sure if unarmed mares who've been jumped at night on their way home would be able to say anything except 'I died' or 'I was molested on my way home and that sucks'."

He knew he shouldn't say anything to this woman. He should really just ignore this foolish Noble cow and her foolish smug Noble beliefs, but...

There were many infuriating things about Nobles, and he could fill horse-sized novels with everything that made them hypocritical out-of-touch morons, but there was one thing he always found particularly infuriating.

It was their desire to squander their opportunities and privileges they could afford to give up, just to show off, just to “flex on” poor people who needed these opportunities and privileges, or needed them but lack them, or enjoyed them but are currently having them taken away by bitter smug lying cowardly dishonest murderous thieving Nobles. The rich offspring of rich Nobles loved their public displays of fake moral superiority to assuage their guilt over being born into more power and privilege than any of the meat-eaters they loathed, and then they loathed the poor for not having the liberty to give up their liberties safely or the desire to give those up for the sake of perverse Noble flexing.

“Mares shouldn't have to carry anything!” She insisted. “You predators shouldn't rape!”

Prey animals like her raped too, the radio just never talked about it.

Some schoolteacher Rabbit got to twelve canines before the thirteenth was adorable and harmless-looking enough to make someone important care? Won't be talked about unless it's a slow news day.

If it's a slow news day, it'll be glossed over and swiftly replaced in the public consciousness with more exciting stories than the tale of this "Alleged" rapist rabbit. Swept under the rug by the media. There's no money for Noble politicians to make talking about that tragedy, not when you can profit off fake moral panics generated by lies your allies in the media constantly push. No matter the age, Preds get no sympathy, because hurr durr, what lucky guys they must be, it's just like one of my Neighponese pornos where the little boy loves being boned by the big tiddy mommy milf teacher he's lusted over all day in school, because it's not like real teachers are at all different from fictional ones and teachers are known to abuse their power over students, right?

Nobles weren't known for their ability to tell fiction from reality. Their propaganda would be ineffective if Nobles had brains. Then again, if Nobles had brains, they wouldn't be Nobles. They would see the futility in evil parasitism, and choose a life of virtue instead.

But at the same time, somewhere else in the Stable...

Some drunk fox trusted a horny rabbit who lied about being unmarried, but she felt guilty for cheating on her husband after she was done letting him take her on expensive dates and shower her in expensive gifts in return for sex, draining him dry in more ways than one?

Stone the crows, because they didn't immediately believe the poor widdle Rabbit girl once she started crying rape, and then stone the foxes, because one of them was accused of something!

She must be telling the truth, because she's crying, and as we all know, prey animals have never cried about absolute nonsense before, like the lies they entertain themselves with using screens and e-books!

Look at her go, she's hopping around with a mattress to draw attention because she thinks it'll help her case! Just kidding, she thinks it will help get her more fame!

And the media will make the name of this rabbit and her victim more famous than every war hero in Equestrian history!

But this bigot in a dress didn't seem like the type that could be convinced to think something truthful, not after she'd made her mind up and decided to believe a lie.

Something told him she didn't even carry her own shopping when she went shopping, and relied on men to carry everything for her and pay for everything.

Something told him she'd never had to take responsibility for her own safety before, too.

He wouldn't be surprised if she traveled around with private security guards, or spent most of her time in disarmed areas under the dominance of police brutes trained by the Nobles to end up desperately eager to take her side in any matter as soon as she cried for help. Criminals in those places joined the police, or moved to less-armed areas to prey upon those the cops rarely if ever felt like protecting, and exclusively lived to harm.

It would explain why she felt invincible enough to avoid carrying a weapon in a crime-ridden hellhole like this Stable, but also entitled to feel safe despite her own best efforts anyway no matter where she went or what she carried.

“Nobody should do anything bad, but some do,” He sighed as he pressed her PipBuck's Map button and wiggled an indented joystick with over thirty little raised bumps in the form of little mounds and straight lines lining the circumference of the rubberized tactical joystick.

Sparky used this joystick to move the screen's view of the map around, wondering why the screen tore and dragged so cancerously. Holy fucking shit, he could practically feel the cancer growing on his back, and this screen was giving his cancer AIDS. This device was supposed to use magical sonic pulses emitted into a higher plane of existence to map out the world around its wearer in real time, and display it upon its monochrome screen in a two-dimensional top-down image somewhat like a satellite photograph. He could feel cancer with AIDS crawling on his back, metaphorically, as he endured the slowness of this map function. He clicked the stick in, and the screen zoomed in on the map. He clicked the stick in twice in quick succession, holding it the second time, and the screen zoomed out. No problems there... “I sure wish we lived in a world where nobody ever did anything illegal. Except piracy.”

“Shut up, you Nothing.” She snapped.

Sparky bit back the growl rising in his throat.

The richest among the aristocratic Nobility and their stupid smug supporters who also called themselves Nobles...

All of those fucking Nobles loved calling everyone who didn't obey the nobles with sufficient speed, consistency, and eagerness a Nothing.

Those fucking Nobles loved calling every meat-eater who wasn't ashamed of their teeth a Nothing.

Those fucking Nobles loved calling everyone they considered beneath them a Nothing.

Nothing... It was supposed to refer to those who didn't work, those who contributed nothing to the survival and prosperity of their civilization. It was also supposed to refer to fools who knew nothing, and acted against the best interests of this civilization and the people it consistently put first: The ruling class, followed by their supporters.

In that order, those were the needs prioritized by this government. The rights of non-Nobles? If they wanted rights, they shouldn't have been Nothings! Worker's rights? What were those? Surely something only a Nothing would want. The right to vote? How dare you talk like a Nothing, you Nothing! Goddamned threats to the royal ruling class's sovereignty like you must be wiped the fuck out, and you won't be missed, Nothing!

Those fucking Nobles loved calling others Nothings for disobeying them.

They loved calling people Nothings for displeasing those high-and-mighty egotistical cunts.

And they loved calling others Nothings for no reason at all.

Books, VidComics, Songs, even Video Games funded by the Nobles were all full of fictional dictators being called Nothings and proudly calling themselves Nothings as they dared to do the unthinkable:

Stand up for the truth despite the kings and queens and god-emperors of their world saying otherwise, and fight for a fair Democracy where everyone can vote regardless of their species or sex, proudly opposing an Oligarchy where only the aristocracy at the top truly matters and everyone else is subservient to them by choice or forced to serve them for the crime of not being born an aristocrat.

The readers of books and comics were encouraged to side with the heroic noblemen and noblewomen protagonists of Noble fiction, with their fancy clothes and fancy guns and gaudy overpowered magical swords and superior training. These heroes were chosen by fate, don't you know! The readers were encouraged to cheer as the all-powerful all-perfect absurdly unrealistic good rich folk viciously stamped out any talk of basic rights owed to everyone no matter who they are or where they are from. The gamer was encouraged to take the role of these superpowered rich bastards and 'save the day' from these Nothings and stop them from stealing crowns and destroying traditions and shooting innocents. by waging war on the poor helpless defenceless widdle prey animals who never did anything wrong ever, if this fiction was to be believed. They needed to be shot, they were the bad guys because they went mwa-ha-ha and opposed the Nobles, they needed to be stopped, they needed to be broken and forced to obey...

These absurd fantasies of the Nobles would twist reality around and paint you as a villain if you didn't want Nobles to rule every aspect of your life and rule every last ring of the hell Sparky found himself trapped within.

This hell was a Fallout Shelter constructed before the war, one ironically called a “Stable” even though it had more in common with a zoo after the Great Experiment.

Even in fantasies where Nobles were the ruling power and there was a small, weak faction of non-Nobles that wanted democracy instead of absolute monarchy and all-powerful oligarchies, the Nobles still called themselves the Resistance, even if the only thing they were “Resisting” were the consequences of making a peaceful life among Nobles impossible for those the Nobles hated.

Video games unquestionably didn't make people violent, but at the same time video games were unquestionably a type of media, and those perpetually immersed in political propaganda that painted meat-eaters as filthy cruel demonic savage beasts that were secretly to blame every time the Nobles ever failed to deliver on their campaign promises to their supporters eventually found themselves brainwashed unless they were sufficiently vigilant against such thoughts.

Too damn many Meat-eaters out there were brainwashed into hating their own kind and thinking they had to be more like Nobles to be liked, maybe even try to switch sides even though they'd never truly be accepted among the Nobles.

And the Prey animals subservient to the Nobles... The dumbest among them fancied themselves the smartest alive, as they regurgitated lies fed to them by the Queen's advisors, all of whom could lose their careers, jobs, and even their lives if they ever said anything the Queen and her friends didn't like.

The Nobles... They loathed the common worker because unlike their loyal servants, the common worker could thrive without needing to vampirically feed upon others. They didn't need an authoritarian governing body full of centuries-old long-debunked ideas of rulership and what made one qualified to rule in bloodline and spirit. They didn't need the government to steal from the hardest workers and biggest risk-takers only to give to the government's favourites.

This wasn't a society, it was a goddamn zoo.

Equestria died long ago, and its ideals died before they could be brought to this disgusting fallout shelter...

If you told Sparky it had been built by a fool who wanted to do everything wrong, he'd believe you right now.

“Hello? Earth to Nothing?” Asked the Cow. “Are you going to fix my PipBuck?”

He shook his mind out of those thoughts. “Yes.”

He checked her Statistics screen, pressing the button labelled Statistics over and over as he saw meticulous data entries for all sorts of shit he never wanted to know... Though it was somewhat amusing to know she'd hypocritically dated Predator animals before. Didn't she ever clear this thing's cache, or delete her history to preserve her privacy?

He pressed her Inventory button again and again to flip through an Aid section full of over ninety pounds of unhealthy snacks and unholy sugarwater stored inside her machine, a Misc section containing some cash, a keycard, some condoms, and a Turboner Supreme(TM) Bigger Iron-brand Pneumatic AutoStallion Super Shagger with Realistic Hyper-Edged OverPressure Nut Blast Apocalyptic Semen Storm Action, a crappy smartphone loaded with bloatware and spyware... And of course, over a hundred literal pounds of weight in the form of comics full of homosexuality fetishized for the horny viewer's pleasure. Big lanky domineering cunts who kidnapped and abused their helpless little girly mini-males, and the same shit but with the physical appearances swapped around so the little boy with all the power topped the lanky boy, buff men with soft-looking plush muscles and bulging titflesh fucking each other in the ass as they belted – at the top of their lungs – dialogue so awful you'd swear the author had never met a single gay man in her life, shit like this made Sparky feel ashamed to be bisexual.

Porn like that was certainly more effective than all the posters the Nobles had placed around the stable that called gay men evil and selfish and perverted.

“Well, there's your problem,” He noted, tapping her screen. “You're really only supposed to store your essential items in this thing. One or two changes of clothes at the most, some armour for if anything bad goes down, some light snacks, a few guns and some ammo... Carrying around all this junk food, all those clothes, never clearing your cache, and over a hundred pounds of porn comics? Your PipBuck's slow because you're overburdening it.”

“It should be strong enough to handle all of this and more!” She insisted.

“It's not, sorry, the adverts lied to you,” He shrugged. “I'm surprised you haven't ran into the Encumberance limit yet. You know about the Encumberance limit, right? Carry too many pounds of garbage for the PipBuck to handle, and your whole body will feel heavy, as if everything stored inside your PipBuck is weighing down on you.”

”Why?”

“I dunno,” He shrugged. “Toad Redwood had something to do with the Operating System for the PipBuck three thousand, so blame him. He used that one buggy decades-old engine held together with duct tape and fanboy prayers, you know the one, even though it didn't fit the product he was paid to produce. I can't believe he stole the PipBoy license by buying the company that produced them and then treating it like garbage until it died instead of just doing something honourable and normal like buying the license itself so the company responsible for it could take that money and make other projects. Anyway, to solve your PipBuck problems, you might want to buy a more up-to-date model with the same problems from the same corrupt manufacturers, or buy a cheaper superior option from a better company.”

She yelled some angry bullshit. Some noisy stupid fucking bullshit. It sounded like words, probably, but he was too disassociated to register them right now.

“You clear your cache by holding all three buttons for four seconds,” He told her. “Do it at least once every two months or your machine will slow down.”

She didn't seem pissed... Guess that was what she wanted to hear.

“Not eight seconds, of course, that will reboot your PipBuck and disable its biometric seal, making it pop off your arm. You'll require a professional to recover your data after that, if possible. And it's usually not possible, unless you've made a dedicated backup.”

“Thank you,” She spat angrily.

“First, you take out the safety pin, and shove it into a little hole in the side of the PipBuck to short out some circuits perfectly. Then, you will count to four. No more, no less. Four shall be the number you will count to, and the number of counting shall be three. Eight, you shouldn't count to. Nor should you count to two, unless you then proceed to three, and then proceed to four. Five is right out! Once the number four, being the number you have reached, then release the three buttons all at the same time. Don't piano that shit, don't release one button and then another and then another, or release one button and then two. You need to, after holding to four, release all four buttons at once, got it?”

“Fine, I get it!” She snapped, turning around and running towards the room's exit.

Then the bitch stopped and ran back towards his desk, slapped her PipBuck down onto his Cash Register so that its automatic scanner could scan its internal ID Chip and deduct the appropriate funds for a PipBuck-fixing from her personal account, and then she ran away.

He sighed.

What an idiot.

How exhausting...

And then she ran back into the room. “Wait a second... I have the PipBuck 3000. If I were to get the newer PipBuck five, what features would that offer?”

“The PipBuck SurVivor, with a big capital V in the middle to let you know this is the fifth model that matters, but in a subtle way that won't chase away anyone who got the fifth model without also getting previous models, is like a regular PipBuck three thousand but better,” He explained. “It's a small computer, but you can't create new programs or files with it, because it's designed for a bunch of total- I mean, it's designed for maximum ease of use, at the expense of more esoteric advanced features the average consumer won't miss at all! It can technically still transfer files, it just can't do that on demand, but who cares about missing features like that? It can track everything in your assorted bags and backpacks and whatnot, and everything you've stored within the device's datascape itself, which is a magically created pocket dimension full of all the data it contains. It tracks your health, it tracks your bodily functions, it tracks your every movement and constantly transmits it to the company that made these things, it can tell you how many steps you've taken in a day and analyze the turds you take to tell you more about your health. It also shares this information with the makers of this machine, as I mentioned. It has a radio, it decrypts radio frequencies, you can use it to instantly consume items stored within it to repair weapons and armour or instantly reap the benefits of consuming health potions or digesting food, but there's a safety lock in place so you won't use this to digest fourty cakes in a second and immediately suffer the consequences. Of course, much to the pleasure of fat fetishists, this safety lock is disabled with a simple password. I can't recommend you do that, but it's an option. It also automatically creates a text copy of every book or note you've ever read, and sometimes people will plaster walls with post-it notes just to fuck with PipBuck users and fill their database with garbage. You can't delete multiple notes at once, you can't even delete any notes, so you'll need a professional to perform a factory reset if you want your clogged data banks cleared. There's also an advanced Vision-Augmenting Gauge system, where a meter will appear in the corner of your vision to represent your health, and another meter will appear over the heads of everyone you see to represent each and every individual's health, and tell you their names, and-”

“Don't say that,” She hissed.

“Huh?”

“Never mind, a Nothing like you wouldn't understand. Keep going.”

“The PipBuck puts a health bar over everyone's heads like in a video game. Big old floating videogame health bars, it's great for helping you spot enemies, and see them coming through walls. The meters are yellow for neutral people, green for friends, red for enemies, and a brighter glowing red for enemies currently in combat with you.”

“Really? The old PipBuck didn't do that. What colour is my health bar, right now?” She asked.

“Green,” Sparky lied. “And the PipBuck also adds a coloured outline to everyone based on whether they're a friend, enemy, or neutral party, which helps with visibility too. Anyway the health bar also assigns a number to you and each health bar using the same technology as the Stable-Tec Vigor Testers, these are called Levels or Power Levels. And there's also a mini-map in the bottom-right corner of your vision where you're represented as a little arrow, green circles are friends, blue symbols represent your objectives and they'll flash white and blue if they're an objective you're currently working towards, while their shape represents what type of objective they are, the locations of shops and other useful things will also be marked on your map, yellow squares represent people who are neutral on you, and red circles represent enemies. Markers that represent others will be upwards arrows if they're above you or downwards arrows if they're below you, and the shade of each arrow's colour will change in hue to symbolize how above or below you they are, which is way better than the PipBuck 4500, which would have the markers representing enemies not on your horizontal plane fade away more and more the further away from you they were. Now they'll still fade more the further away from you they are, but they'll fade much less overall, which helps with visibility. There is also a compass bar beneath your mini-map, which can display up to three of the four cardinal directions at once, and you can use this compass to spot enemies because each tick of the compass that represents an enemy will have its own little number on it to tell you how far away the enemy is, along with an upwards-pointing or downwards-pointing arrow symbol, you know, like the shift-six arrow thing, to tell you whether your target is above or below you. The PipBuck SurVive will also put yellow, green, or red markers over the heads of allies, neutrals, and enemies respectively, along with a number to tell you how many meters away from you they are. So if your senses aren't exactly the greatest for detecting enemies, this can help. You can even assign specific colours and symbols to friends. It even has the Stable-Tec Assisted Targeting System, which magically possesses you and makes the whole world seem to slow down as you perfectly shoot guns, swing melee weapons, perform grapples and takedowns and stabs, whatever works. It can even augment your vision when aiming guns to tell you what you're aiming at and what your chance to hit is. SATS uses an AI built for killing, and while it only lasts for a few seconds when turned on and takes a few more seconds to fully recharge before you can use it again, it's excellent for unexpected bursts of violence. It's the perfect murder weapon for equalizing the gap between skilled hunters and rank amateurs, and a symbol of our hedonistic society's love of purchasing power in an attempt to surpass nature. It's also got a flashlight function that can and will cause permanent retina damage if you ever look directly into your PipBuck screen when it's on. Oh, and it's got less memory space than the PipBuck 4500, even though it costs twice as much. It's also got a magical library upgrade called the Twilight Engine, which utilizes a magical reactor core to generate power and store it in on-board capacitors while an AI eager to tell you the best spell for each situation and exactly how to cast it can read from an internal database of countless spells and cast this spell for you, even if you lack a functional horn! Of course, it won't work on floors where anti-magic gems were set up. Order now, it's a brilliant murder weapon and the perfect gift for a little loved one if you want to secure their safety!”

“I could never buy something so violent!”

“Alrighty then!” He smiled, glad she decided not to buy something that could save her life at this point. He was that sick of her and her bullshit and the bullshit of every Noble. “Isn't it funny how the sight of these devices that can turn anyone into a trained killer for a while are so common, but guns are taxed and restricted so only well-off government-lovers can get them?”

“Are you criticizing the government?” She yelled.

“Of course not!” He smiled, closing his eyes. “I'd never do that. By the way, I know someone who could replace your current PipBuck's operating system with a better one that'll be more efficient with its storage space. It would void the warranty, which is fine, because between you and me, the warranty doesn't cover any type of damage your PipBuck might ever actually receive, like I said earlier.”

“Can't you do it yourself right now?” Asked the rich cow bitch.

“I'm studying tech in my free time, but I still just barely know enough about computers to fix them. But coding? I'm no good at that, though I know someone who is.”

“Very well, who is she? A rabbit, perhaps? A soft cute little sheep? Maybe a friendly squirrel?” She wondered, her unconscious biases showing.

He smiled. “Oh, Luuuuuna?”

The store's double doors into the storage rooms opened up.

A pure-white wolf silently stalked into view with a garish lime-green company shirt with the Life Bytes logo over the heart. There was a cutesy mascot of a sheep with big blue eyes and blue headphones on her shirt's left and right side. When the cow stopped being distracted by that, she noticed the white wolf's shining golden eyes and a shock of snow-white hair that sometimes covered her eyes. There was also a soft blue hat atop her head that said “Please be patient, I have awootism” in white letters, and the hat was as blue as Rainbow Dash's asscheeks.

“WOLF!” The rich bitch shrieked.

Luna flinched at the loud noise.

Sparky wanted to hurt this cowcunt for that, but he forced a smile and tensed muscles that yearned to break free from his control and deal some damage. “Yes, she's a gorgeous and beautiful wolf. Surely this isn't the first wolf you've seen in your life, right?”

“I can't believe you let that mangy mutt in here!” The fat cow shrieked.

This bitch was bringing his piss to a boil...

Sparky wanted to see if it was possible to beat the stupid out of her...

He forced a wider thin-lipped smile, and tried not to growl. “She's just like you or me, only we work for a living, so please show her some respect and stop yelling.”

“How dare you raise your voice at me! This is abuse! I demand to speak to your manager!” Cried the rich cow bitch, because she hated taking responsibility for the way she chose to act.

“My manager's out for the day, and so is the assistant manager, they'll be off their breaks in four hours,” He lied. “Want to stick around until then, or return in four hours?”

She bitchily babbled some nonsense at him about how she was totally respectful because she said so and in truth he wasn't respectful because she said so and blah blah blah, the opposite of reality is true if I say so, everything is subjective and nothing is true, blah blah blah.

She talked like her only references for how you spoke normally were Buggy The Dhampire Slayer and Mean Mares. Her whiny high-pitched perpetually-stressed tone stressed every syllable she spoke but it stressed some words and syllables even more, like they were supposed to be buzzwords that triggered something in a sufficiently propagandized brain, but he gave no fucks. He didn't care how absurdly she exaggerated every little thing in her narcissistic quest to make mountains out of molehills or mountains out of lies. He gave no fucks what someone like this cared about him. That petty whiney false-cutesy neener-neener attitude of hers was disgusting.

Fake sweetness couldn't cover up her hatred for gay males.

None of what she said made any sense to anyone but her and none of it had to make any sense to anyone but her because she didn't care how stupid she sounded right now. Nobody had ever held a mirror to her face and caused her to shriek in horror at the insane hateful ugly bitch reflected back at her.

She was just saying the opposite of what was true for her own amusement, and to soothe her own delicate ego.

It was as if she'd spent her whole life being able to lie with such confidence, she was able to dupe any idiot into believing it, even if they knew for a fact she was lying to them, and he was the first person this wasn't working on.

“Please don't be scared of me.” Luna's soft voice was barely a whisper, yet it was flat, too, and it interrupted the cow's bitching. She looked down at the logo on her shirt. “I'm wearing a friendly shirt. It reminds me of juice boxes. This shirt makes me look approachable and soft. I have other shirts with wolves and the moon or band names but I can't wear those here.”

“See?” Sparky asked the mad cow. “She's making an effort to be approachable. She's a really interesting and kind person who'll never leave your side once she trusts you enough to open up to you, and while she might seem shy and reserved at first-”

“She's fucking creepy,” The cow hissed cattily, before raising her voice and shouting out the magic words that made threats to her delicate feelings go away. “I don't feel comfortable around her! She's making me feel unsafe!”

“I like technology,” Luna stated, confusing the cow. “My mother said I should tell people that when they see me if they seem to think I'm a scary bad wolf. I'm a harmless nerd and I've never bitten anyone.”

”See? She likes technology.” Sparky smiled. “That's such an interesting and endearing character trait, just like a love of tomatoes or tacos or rocks! Now, wouldn't you like a free PipBuck upgrade from her?”

“I'm not letting her anywhere near me!” Shrieked the cow.

“I'm trying to give you a chance to see Wolves aren't like whichever ones hurt you in the past,” Sparky pointed out, concerned for the cow's mental health as his rage boiled in the background.

“I've never gotten close to a wolf in my life, and I'm keeping it that way!” The cow insisted. “The radio told me everything I need to know about you mutts!”

“Are you sure? She's great at installing free, high-quality Linux software,” He told her.

“I'd just like to interject for a moment.” Luna said softly. ”What you're refering to as Linux, is in fact, GNU/Linux, or as I've recently taken to calling it, GNU plus Linux. Linux is not an operating system unto itself, but rather another free component of a fully functioning GNU system made useful by the GNU corelibs, shell utilities and vital system components comprising a full OS as defined by POSIX. Many computer users run a modified version of the GNU system every day, without realizing it. Through a peculiar turn of events, the version of GNU which is widely used today is often called Linux, and many of its users are not aware that it is basically the GNU system, developed by the GNU Project. There really is a Linux, and these people are using it, but it is just a part of the system they use. Linux is the kernel: the program in the system that allocates the machine's resources to the other programs that you run. The kernel is an essential part of an operating system, but useless by itself; it can only function in the context of a complete operating system. Linux is normally used in combination with the GNU operating system: the whole system is basically GNU with Linux added, or GNU/Linux. All the so-called Linux distributions are really distributions of GNU/Linux.”

The catty cow bitch stared at the smart wolf girl in confusion.

“See?” Sparky smiled. “Clearly, she knows what she's talking about. I'm sure a free software update from her would be very helpful in your daily life.”

“If she comes anywhere near me, I'll pepper-spray her,” The dozy cow shouted.

Luna looked down, crestfallen. “I couldn't make a new friend today.”

Sparky moved closer to her, blocking her sight of the cow, and gently whispered. “It's alright, I'll talk to her. This isn't your fault, you can go into the back rooms and I'll handle this.”

And then, the cunt noticed something. “Wait, retard wolf, don't go! That hat of yours says awoo-tism... Is that an autism joke? Are you making fun of autistic people?”

“No, I am an autistic person.” Luna said.

“That's no excuse! You should take that hat off and burn it before you offend someone who would find it offensive!”

“What if someone finds the garish way you dress offensive?” Sparky asked. “Should you strip for him?”

“That doesn't matter unless they're a Noble like me!” The cow declared.

“That's retarded,” Luna stated.

The cow gasped with feigned horror. “You can't say that, you fucking autist! That's offensive!”

“To who, retards who use 'autist' like a slur?” Luna asked. “Can't you normies tell the difference between autistic people and retards?”

“Good news!” Sparky announced, interrupting the fight. “You're our one millionth customer, and you're entitled to an exciting prize!”

“I am?” The cow asked hopefully. The thought of getting something for nothing was practically a drug to these types of whores. A drug that wiped away all traces of reason from a mind that already had an open and tenuous relationship with reality and reason.

He reached into his Trucker Hat while sending a mental command to the PipBuck Life Bytes allowed him to borrow from them while he was on the job, as he was too poor to afford a PipBuck of his own. When he took his hand out from under his hat, there was a USB stick in his paw. It was just like when cartoon cats and animated mice pulled hammers out of nowhere after reaching behind themselves or reaching into furry hip pockets that didn't exist until a few seconds ago. But it wasn't Pinkie Pie magic that made this possible, it was space magic used to store objects within the PipBuck! Woah, technology! He took her PipBuck arm into his arm, plugged his USB in, and then removed it after a few seconds.

“This secret upgrade should give your PipBuck more defragmented v-triggered waveshined dedicated ram inside your high definition rollcancelled hard drive, making your device run faster!” He bullshat.

“...Faster?” She smiled hopefully, repeating the only word she understood.

“Yes! Just go home and reset your PipBuck using the trick I told you about, pressing the buttons for the correct amount of time, and everything should work fine. Good luck!”

“Why do I have to go home?” She asked.

“That's where you spend the most time, right?”

“Actually, I spend the most time at Charbucks Coffee.”

“That overpriced dungheap?” He asked in disgust.

“It's stylish and indie!” She insisted.

“It's more corporate and fake than McDoggies!” He declared. “That megacorp had a branch in every city and town in Equestria, and the end of Equestria itself couldn't stop that megacorp from setting up one of their stupid stores inside our apocalypse survival bunker!”

“It's a cultural icon!” She lied.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Nothing says cultured like expensive coffee, right?”

“Right,” She nodded with a smile. “I'm glad you see it my way, and I'm glad you've stopped being such a silly little Nothing.”

He was disappointed in her willingness to overlook his obvious sarcasm in favor of pretending he agreed with her. “I see everything clearly, it's my curse. Now go and enjoy your new complimentary PipBuck upgrade!”

She left.

He waited for a few seconds.

He walked to the store's exit, a perpetual stream of all shapes and sizes passing the store by, and he noticed a homeless wolf outside with nothing to his name besides a warm winter coat and a red blanket.

She didn't return.

It was official.

She had left completely.

Good.

Still...

He looked at the homeless wolf.

He was missing his teeth.

His left foreleg looked like it had been broken long ago, yet it lacked any sort of sling or cast.

And he was being spat on and mocked by four rabbit boys, who hated him and called him Nothing.

He should have gone back to his store.

He didn't have to get involved.

But he wanted to save others.

That was more important to him than anything.

Sparky silently snuck up behind them, and unleashed a portion of his anger.

A beastial roar burst forth and sent the grass-gobblers screaming and scurrying and scampering away, their minds overloaded with fear.

They couldn't look back, they could only run as they saw their own deaths a thousand times over.

“You didn't have to do that,” The homeless wolf whispered once the brats had disappeared around a corner.

“I wanted to do it, so I did,” Sparky watched them flee.

"There could be consequences. What if they get the cops? What if they say you tried to kill them?"

"Why would they care about the feelings of some scared brats, when they're too busy defending the feelings of rich rabbits?"

The homeless wolf growled. "They put their own first... After their rulers. I bet they're too busy covering up cub-trafficking rings to even notice the cubs they're supposed to be protecting."

Sparky looked at the homeless wolf again.

He was missing his teeth.

His left foreleg had been broken.

And he was seated there, with a leather hat in his lap.

Just four bits...

That was all any of these people outside had given him.

Besides the kicks those grass-gobbler boys had given him.

Where were their parents?

Their parents must have been terrible people, for those kids to turn out like that.

Sparky didn't have much money.

And he didn't get to eat much.

But he did have a snack bar he was supposed to eat during his train ride to his second job.

He should have minded his own business.

He shouldn't have gotten involved with any of this.

Then again...

Fuck it.

A mental command to the PipBuck Sparky wore summoned a plastic-wrapped bar of mushy meat substitute into his paw, which he tossed into the hobo's hat. “Here you go,” He said.

The wolf looked at him with tears welling in his eyes. It wasn't exactly the best food out there, it wasn't even a flavour Sparky liked that much, but to this homeless bum, it was worth more than gold. “Thank you.”

Sparky...

He...

He wasn't sure what to say.

For so long, trying to shut off his emotions and stop caring...

That was his coping mechanism for dealing with a miserable world full of evil creatures.

He'd felt like a machine for so long, labouring away at his dull thankless jobs...

Treated like nothing, seen as nothing...

Blamed for all the world's woes and all the failures of the whores masquerading as politicians.

But now, he'd seen another opportunity to do a good thing.

He'd done it.

He'd done another good thing today.

And this time, he was being thanked for it.

By someone who looked like he was about to burst into gratitude-filled tears.

Someone finally acknowledged him after a lifetime of good deeds, and it was a goddamn homeless person.

Sparky tried not to cry, too. “You're welcome.”

"I hope you don't expect a reward."

"No. I just did this because I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Really? What's your goal in life, kid? Why do you serve those prey beasts?"

"My goal in life is to get enough money to start my own repair shop, where I'll fix anything."

"You could make money doing that, or lose it all. It's a fine dream, I suppose."

"It's not about the money," Sparky told him. "My goal is to give my fellow preds a fighting chance at life, give them a real shot at getting real jobs, even if those grass-gobblers in charge won't give us one."

The wolf smiled a toothless smile. Reaching under his blanket, he produced a leather-bound orange tome with no title, and one cartoony apple on the front cover. "Take this from me, and keep it hidden."

Sparky wiped his eyes with the back of one of his paws, took the book, and opened it to a random page. "If I’m going to tell you about the adventure of my life," He read aloud, "Explain how I got to this place with these ponies, and why I did what I’m going to do next, I should probably start by explaining a little bit about Applejack."

"Hide it!" The Wolf whispered.

Sparky swiftly hid it inside his PipBuck's inventory, renaming the Misc Item to 'Ruined Book' for the sake of privacy, just in case any spyware scanned his device for items with illegal file names. "What is this book?"

"You'll find out some day, when you get around to reading it. Alone! There are secrets in there. Secrets of the past, before the blasts, before the war, even before Twilight Sparkle herself was born, before Equestria was what we know it to be today. Secrets involving this Stable's creation, penned by Apple Bloom herself, and secrets penned by ponies a hundred years before her time! Secrets those in charge want forgotten, so these truths can be rewritten with their lies. It's a priceless family heirloom, hundreds of years old! Don't let any of the bastards in charge get their paws on it... And don't let them catch you with it... Got it?"

"Got it."

"This book can get you killed. It can get me killed. It's more illegal than drugs, more illegal than being caught with the corpse of a cub in your closet! It's not just something the rich want to keep to themselves as a privilege only their high rank can let them freely enjoy, like drugs or raping someone of a lower caste. It's something they FEAR you having. It's the deadliest weapon all tyrants fear... Knowledge. Now get back in there, and pretend you never saw me."

Sparky forced a bored expression back onto his face as he turned around and lazily strolled into the store. His colleagues would never understand what he just did, or why, or what he obtained and he didn't want them finding out about any of this. For once, he was glad they didn't notice predators, and glad they hadn't noticed how long he had been away from his desk for. ...Right?

"Why were you away from your desk for so long?!" Shrieked the Sheep.

Fuck.

“Fuuuck,” Sparky sighed, trudging over to his desk and sitting down. “I thought she'd never leave. She kept walking back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again! But she's gone now, and not our problem any more.”

“Like, why are you so tired all the time, anyway?” Asked the Sheep.

“Because I have crippling depression,” Sparky shrugged, and he didn't feel like elaborating on why. It's not like she'd understand.

“Same,” The airheaded sheep smiled, because she got sad sometimes, especially when she thought about all the hedonistic pleasures she hadn't purchased yet. “When I get depression I chase it away with chocolate and cute cat pictures!”

“When I get depressed I chase it away with video games!” Boasted the Weasel. Sparky had almost forgotten he was in this building, considering how quiet he was when Sparky and the sheep girl were dealing with that awful entitled customer.

“Okay,” Sparky mumbled, closing his eyes. “If you say so.”

Fuck, life was exhausting.

Maybe a bit too exhausting.

Was...

Was there something wrong with him?

It wasn't as if he was a machine that could just be taken apart, letting him or someone qualified check.

Who would he even ask for help?

Booking a therapist for a simple checkup would cost more than renting two orgies worth of prostitutes, and they'd be likely to have the same average level of competence when it came to matters of the mind and heart.

Hell, the prostitutes might even know more than the overpaid professionals able to afford the initial financial investments that got them into the ruling class's good graces and allowed to work jobs like that.

After all, if anyone knew prostitutes could be smarter than they seemed, it was him.

“Do you know how many levels I've got in Base Builder? That's a mobile game I'm playing where you build your base, and you build lots of walls and resource storage silos and resource processors and resource miners in your base, and you go on daily missions, and you shoot the bad guys with your wizards, and you win if you get lucky! And you're more likely to get lucky if you have better wizards! But if you're smart like me you spend money to buy FunBoxes because they might have better wizards in them! Then you fight and if you win you destroy their base! But if you lose they destroy your base and it takes hours to rebuild everything so you can play the game again. But you can speed up the wait times if you buy boosters! I've bought four boosters this week and twenty FunBoxes! Also you can only play for a few minutes at a time or else you have to pay Crystals to keep playing.”

“Yeah, ok,” Sparky sighed. “Is there any strategy involved in that game?”

“Yeah! You have to buy gems with money and spend them on FunBoxes because then they're cheaper. And if you save up a ton of boxes and open them all up in a row your chances of a better wizard go up! And if you get a good new wizard from the funboxes that's better than the wizards you have now you have to replace them! And it can be really hard to figure out whether 2 more damage or 2% more damage is bigger and better, so I use a calculator online and guides to tell me how to play the game so I don't have to think at all. Me, I want to get a Masterwork Ghost Rare Legend. There's a chance to get them and it's less than zero point zero zero zero... uh... a lot of zeroes, but then there's a two! And it goes up permanently for every one hundred bits you spend on this game!”

“Ok,” Sparky sighed.

“What the fuck do you mean by Ok? Don't you like video games or something?” Asked the Weasel.

“Sure. I like good fighting games, good first-person shooters, and good action games,” He told them.

The sheep spoke, surprisingly. “What does good mean to you?”

“Is this really the first time we've had this conversation?” Sparky wondered.

“Yeah,” She said.

“Alright, I'll tell you. The fighting game needs to be a real one, two dimensional, where you hold back or back and down to block. If there's a block button to hold, it's shit. If it's 3D, it's shit. Unless it's Trotten 3, the only good Trotten. If it's got jank, it's shit, unless it's the fun kind of jank that makes the game uniquely appealing by opening up creative opportunities to exploit the hell out of the depths found within the jank. If it's dumbed down to appeal to those without the patience for a real fighter, it's shit. There needs to be depth to be found in the decision making, same with the good shooters like Doomed Eternity and Demon May Fry. I want my skills and high-speed decision-making ability tested and pushed to the limits, I want chaos and action and a real-ass challenge to overcome. I endure enough mundane shit in my daily life to last me a lifetime, I want my fiction to excite me and give me a break from the daily grind, not force it upon me, that's why I hate luck and RPGs that prioritize grinding for numbers over actually using deep system mechanics and thinking before you select menu options.”

"I don't know what those games you mentioned are, but I love Animal Cresting!" The Sheep told them. Sparky rolled his eyes. "Have you seen the new one where you get to pay money to buy space for a new save file and pay more real money to rent every tool you need to do your daily tasks? I'm so glad they went back to the comfy town setting, I'll put up with any new costs! I can't be assed to clean my room in real life, but games like this make chores so fun, I spend all my free time doing them! I don't go anywhere without my trusty Nintendo Switch 4."

"A friend loaned me his copy of Animal Cresting, and I tried giving it a go. I didn't like it," Sparky shrugged. "Same with Ponysona 5 and Stardust Valley. Whenever I start thinking about the best ways to optimize my time in those games, it reminds me playing these dull repetitive games I can't stand or learn anything from or practice any skills in isn't the best way to spend my own time."

“I love Assassin's Bleat!” the Weasel told them. Sparky rolled his eyes. “Have you seen the new one? It's so funny and cool! You get to be a heroic sheep who kills all sorts of evil predators and free their beaten caged raped slaves! And this time, you even get to kill Princess Platinum's enemies!”

“Enemies, huh? That's what they are?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's what my history teacher said they were! Princess Platinum was the only good pony and all those other pony freaks were evil for not wanting to do as she said. But then Celestia comes along and shows ponies the way of glorious submission and holy obedience, the perfection of simplicity, she is the divine majesty of Nobility personified!"

"Sure. You realize that game demonizes the founding of Equestria and pretends the Timberwolves and Windigoes did nothing wrong, right?” Sparky asked.

“Nuh uh, it lets you kill them sometimes!”

“In optional side-content. Where their evil is framed as a result of ponies stealing 'their' land, when the truth is, it's the other way around. Meanwhile the main quest tries to present Equestria's founding as morally unjust because it still had three distinct tribes and wasn't yet a dual monarchy."

"A dual monarchy is almost as holy as a regular monarchy, the Nobles said so. How do you know so much about this game if you don't like it, anyway?" The Weasel asked, suspicious of him.

"When I went online to check if the new game was worth buying on sale, I ended up watching a four hour video about all the lies in the game, the predatory microtransactions, the lootboxes-"

"Funboxes!"

"Eat my shit, they're lootboxes. Fucking gambling except you can never make your money back, or get your money's worth because what you could have unlocked through skilled gameplay was locked behind money and gambling by a greedy CEO eager to ruin his games for maximum profit."

“You're crazy, man. If you don't like the game, why are you talking about it? The new game is awesome, you must be playing it wrong! It gives you a bird and magic and super cool new weapons and there's a loot drop system and I love getting high numbers that let me get through the game so I never have to watch what the enemies are doing and block or dodge when they attack!”

“Personally, I'm not a fan of loot systems,” Sparky told them. “Too many games rely on them as a way to artificially include randomness and variation between different instances of the same recycled content, and mandate grinding as a replacement for real skill advancement.”

“Nuh-uh, loot systems are awesome and they're never bad ever ever ever! Nothing can compare to the feeling of getting a legendary item to finally drop after hours and hours of grinding. It's better than sex!”

The sheep smiled. “You've never had sex.”

“Yes I have!” The Weasel lied.

They bickered for a while and Sparky ignored them.

He had almost drifted off to sleep, when...

“Look at that stupid sleepy lion. What right does he have to be tired? How lazy. I should be the tired one here. I work seven hours a day!” The Weasel reminded them, saying something so annoying it caught Sparky's ear and made it twitch. It seemed the Weasel hadn't felt like anyone had been paying attention to him in way too long and couldn't handle that. “Seven whole hours, and then I'm gaming all night just to keep my sanity! Do you know how little sleep I get?”

Sparky could say a lot of things about his own two jobs and his own extracurricular activities, but talking required energy, and he was tactically conserving his energy.

He'd certainly need a lot of it for his second job.

Physical energy, and mental energy.

He needed to conserve these.

Preserve these.

Fucking bitches as a male prostitute in a butler cafe took a lot out of him, after all.

Mostly semen.

Plus that guy became even more obnoxious when he felt his status as the saddest cunt in the room with the best excuse to behave abnormally was being threatened.

Actually talking to idiots like these two and expecting them to understand anything that mattered was a fool's errand.

Why did his boss hire these two airheads when he was the only one who actually knew how to fix computers, toasters, and even PipBucks?

Simple: His boss wanted somepony keep an eye on him at all times while he was in the shop.

Someone qualified for the job could find work in any place that hired competent phone-fixers. They'd have no reason to be particularly loyal to any one boss, when they could find work under any other boss should he or she ask too much of them.

But these two... They had their own reasons to remain loyal to their boss.

They knew they weren't hired for their talent.

They'd happily spy on him for their boss whenever she asked.

Because they were hired for supporting the Nobility, just like their boss.

The guy said some dumb bullshit and the sheep woman said some dumb bullshit too.

But there were only four more hours of this to go.

That was as many as two twos.

Only four more sets of another hour of this shit, and then he'd have just two hours to get across several floors of this infernal Zoo and make it to his second job.

And when that was done, he'd be free.

Free for the night, anyway.

In a sense.

Was anyone truly free, in this Zoo?

Sparky just wished there was something he could do to take control of his life, as his eyes lazily drifted open and noticed the dull grey wall once again.

He put his Trucker Hat over his eyes, and tried to drift off to sleep again...

“I'M ABOUT TO THROW DOWN!” Roared some rapper from the radio of the Weasel's PipBuck. “BITCHES BETTER BOW DOWN! I'M THE GOD OF EVERYTHING, MONEY IS MY GOD! I'M ABOUT TO GUN DOWN! EVERY RABID PRED CLOWN! I'M THE GOD OF EVERYTHING, SUCK MY FUCKING COCK!”

“Can you turn that down?” Sparky asked.

“Make me!” He gloated. “Oh wait, you can't! Ha!”

He growled, and didn't kick his ass.

He could have done that. It would have been easy.

The Sheep opened her mouth, and Sparky got his hopes up... slightly.

"Turn it up!" She laughed, and the Weasel did as he was told.

He rolled his eyes.

She was so grateful for how he saved her from that customer, wasn't she?

He deserved a medal for putting up with these fuckers.

“I'M ABOUT TO BURN DOWN! THIS WHOLE MOTHERFUCKING TOWN! MONEY RULES EVERYTHING, FUCK THEIR FALSE GOD! I'M ABOUT TO MOW DOWN! EVERY MEAT-MUNCHER WITH DOWNS! FUCK THOSE NOTHING FAGGOTS, SUCK MY FUCKING COCK!”

This song's disgusting bigoted lyrics pissed him off so much!

“I'm going to talk to Luna,” Sparky sighed, getting up and heading towards the back room, which was full of storage space and countless boxes. “Call me if you need me.”

"THE LIGHT OF HARMONY IS NOTHING!"

“Hey, you're not allowed to leave your post when you're on-duty!” Protested the Sheep.

"EVERY NIGHT, I AM CUMMING!"

“Our boss will only know if you told her for some reason, even though there's no reward in it for you,” Sparky said.

"I FUCK BITCHES UNTIL WE SOAK THEY BED!"

“Enforcing my boss's will is its own reward!” The sheep recited.

"EVERY DAY, EVERY NIGHT, THEY BE GIVIN' ME HEAD!"

It was time for a Speech Check.

He had to ignore the infuriating offensive dogshit rap for a second and focus...

He had to ignore the shouting rapper who hated his species and disabled people, and focus...

She was engulfed by the urge to buttfuck him for no reason besides suddenly seeing an opportunity to fuck a superior colleague over, even though it was the best person out of all of them and the person she regularly relied on to do all the real work around here.

He'd need to use all his charisma and sexiness to convince this sheep not to be evil.

“Fine, I'm not leaving my post to comfort a colleague who just experienced a bad time with a bad customer, I'm going to go and take a massive shit before the boiling diarrhea dump raging within me explodes onto the wall behind me and leaves it looking like a modern art canvas worth six million bits, almost as much as a banana taped to a wall or some glasses left on the floor. Laws say the boss can't punish me for going and taking a shit, and laws supercede the boss's orders. Does that make you feel any better, now that you can feel like you're obeying a higher master?”

“Yes,” She smiled. “You can go now, chop chop.”

Sparky would love to chop chop that stupid bitch into pieces, she'd probably go great with some pre-war lamb sauce older than the war and equally ancient red wine, not that he would know because he had never tasted any of those expensive luxuries. Then again, he also didn't want to kill her. Sure, she was an annoying bitch. But after a lifetime of being abused, he struggled to find the strength to keep going, let alone the strength to truly hate anyone but the most dedicated Nobles dead-set on being pure evil.

In any case, he had a friend and/or sister and/or daughter to comfort.

Sparky made his way into the back rooms, finding a shitload of crates with assorted parts and broken bullshit in them he didn't care about, but would probably have to fix some day.

There were so many heavy boxes in here, and of course, he had to do all the heavy lifting around here.

He had to stock the shelves, he had to lift heavy boxes, and he had to clean the floors.

He also had to fix the things, give all customers a good experience...

He did the work of ten men, and he was paid the wages of one man, while those around him were paid the wages of two men for being born lucky enough to be the kind of creature his boss was allowed to openly favour and fantasize about fucking.

How incredibly equal... NOT.

He did all the heavy lifting in this shithole.

His people were treated like trash, but they were the ones expected to do all the heavy lifting in this shithole, even as they were told they were the reason this Stable was a shithole. Rather than, you know, the Nobles in charge of every aspect of society, grooming younglings to be the servants of Nobles or the playthings of Nobles.

Fuck the Nobles.

Sparky's people did all the lifting.

They had the world on their back and a bomb collar around their throats.

But right now, there was one thing Sparky wanted to lift.

He wanted to lift his friend's spirits.

He saw her alone at her desk, tapping away at the laptop she carried around inside a shell she'd designed to look like a custom-made superior PipBuck.

He wished he had a PipBuck as good as hers.

He wished he owned a PipBuck.

He'd love to commission her to make him one.

But he didn't have the money to afford whatever parts she'd need to make something worth a damn, and he didn't feel comfortable asking her to blow her own money on something for him, not when she wasn't exactly rich either.

She lived with him, after all, like an adoptive little sister.

“Luna, are you alright?” Sparky asked her softly.

“Of course I'm alright,” She stated flatly. “I shouldn't care about what those people think of me. Those people are bad people.”

“Those people?” Sparky repeated.

“People like that catty cow whore whose PipBuck you fixed,” She said. “She hated me.”

“No, sweetie, she didn't hate you. She didn't even see you, she just saw a Wolf and believed what she wanted to believe about them.”

She tried to think about something else. “I wish every piece of technology used linux. User-friendliness was a mistake. Technology shouldn't be dumbed down for stupid people. It'll just enable them and encourage them to act stupider. Stupid people should die out and make room for their betters.”

“You can't say that in public because it's illegal, but you're right,” He sighed. “The world would definitely be a better place without those entitled idiots.”

“PipBucks were a mistake that started with Personal Computers. They dumbed down computers for idiots like her. She doesn't deserve that. She shouldn't have her laziness enabled, or she'll just get lazier. I should have used a backdoor to install Gentoo on her PipBuck. It wouldn't be hard, the PipBuck OS is full of backdoors. I should have replaced the GNU core utils with plan nine. And rewritten everything in Holy C. GNU is bloat.”

“Yeah, uh... Did you see that new documentary about Twilight Sparkle's role in the war that ended Equestria, and the roles her friends played?"

"The documentary's Wolf director has been paid to lie about the past before," She muttered. "Nobody could pay me enough to sit through another one of those, after the one he made that lied about Princess Luna and claimed she wasn't the one to bring us wolves back from the dead. She was the one! Everyone knows that! Except the idiots who trust Hollywood 2 over the real historians willing to lose their careers for telling the truth."

"Fair. Anyway, guess what I did to that catty cow with my USB.”

She stopped tapping, and turned to look at him with a flat expression only a cunt would find unsettling.

“Nothing at all, it was all sleight of hand and lies.”

“Your USB was blank?”

“I plugged a blank USB into her PipBuck,” He smiled. "And told her it's an upgrade."

“That's a really lame prank,” She smiled. “Maybe if you infected her PipBuck with a virus, she'd have the sense to buy something with a less vulnerable operating system next time."

"I'd be arrested if I said I wanted to commit a crime. If I actually did something illegal like intentionally infecting someone else's machine with a virus, I'd be in jail faster than you can say If you cannot afford the exorbitant prices of one of the few attorneys we allow to keep their jobs, a grass-gobbler who openly hates you will be assigned to represent you as poorly as possible and suffer no consequences for trying to have you made into an example."

"I know... Maybe If I didn't look so scary, I could have helped make her PipBuck better.”

“You're still upset over that? Despite how awfully she treated the two of us, you still wish you could have brightened up her day?”

“Yes,” She said sadly.

“You're an angel, darling. You're a saint. But you'd be wasting the valuable time of a saint like you if you tried to bond with her. You shouldn't want that type as your friend anyway! Come on, don't beat yourself up over her, today wasn't your fault. You're not scary, you're adorable and she didn't deserve your help! Everyone who matters loves you.”

She looked up at him. “Everyone? Even you?”

“Especially me,” He smiled. “If I wasn't whoring myself out to you-know-who and you-know-where, I'd love to date you some time. I don't care if my dad adopting you makes it sort of weird, you loved foreign cartoons with that stuff, right? I'd never force you into anything you didn't want to do, and if anyone tried forcing anything onto you, I'd kill them without a second thought. But I love you like a sister, and a daughter, all in one. And I'd love to be all in that one.”

She stared at him, blushing.

She ran away.

But in a cute way.

She had ran away before, and he knew what it meant.

It meant she had to deal with her feelings alone for a while.

And that was okay.

When she had decided what to say, she would be back. And she would bring the subject up with him when she felt ready to talk about it.