Life Finds a Way

Friday, October 24th, 908 AB (2 days later)

"Daaaam, I'm hooome!"

"I'll be right down, sweetie."

"I'm coming up, gotta put my bag away, dam."

"Alright, honey," Vines calls from her room, "your mom and sire should be here soon."

Cure trots up the stairs, hangs his saddlebags on a baghook in his room by his desk, grabs his horn cube, and, after performing the typical after work-slash-school routine, joins his dam, who is now in the kitchen.

Cure busies himself by floating dishes, cups, and utensils to the table while Vines prepares the food. "So you and mom doing anything while yer stallions are gettin their swol on, dam?"

"Mmhmm. Several of the other market mares are meeting at the library for our book club. We'll be home a little before dinner."

"Wow, that sounds like… fun."

"Oh I'm so glad you think so, honey," she says while slicing up a few cucumbers. "I'll be sure to bring home a list of the books to read for November's meet up. I'm sure you'll love them, and the other mares will appreciate having your opinion on them."

"Hooray," he deadpans. "Ya know, I actually looked at one of the books mom left by her cushion once," he tells her with a smirk. Vines' ears start pinking as he goes on. "It was a real page turner, dam. The bold, decisive mare approaches the handsome stallion. The wiles she played to get what she wanted… what she needed from him. The thrill of her conquest. Riveting stuff, dam."

"She… umm… isn't supposed to leave those out. I'll have to have words with her," she growls, glaring at the cucumber she's slicing.

Waving a hoof he assures her, "You really shouldn't be upset. This was a few weeks ago. She's going to have to be more careful if Dawn or whoever is going to be over here though." Vines reluctantly nods and lets out a sigh.

"You're right, honey. I'll remind her."

“Well, say hi to Mr. Binder for me if he’s there.”

“I will.” Glancing over her withers, she sees that the table is set and ready. "Thanks for setting the table. Now we just need… oh perfect timing," she says, looking towards the pair trudging in the door. "Go get ready for lunch, you two. The food's almost ready."

The duo call back greetings and run up the stairs to take care of their after work routines. A few minutes later the pair have joined Vines and Cure at the table and the whole family starts digging in.

"So how's school, champ? Give ya any problems leavin early?"

"Nah, between your note and the other foals reassuring her, Miss Apple didn't question it. She's heard everypony talking about me starting work anyhow. Besides, I spend more time teaching than being taught. I'm basically the class math teacher."

"I'm sure she appreciates the help, sweetie. Teaching so many foals must be difficult, especially with the different ages and everything."

"Yeah, why do they do that? I don't get why they don't have a single public school with all the foals in the whole town going. Why do they have a half dozen small school buildings for each section of the city?"

"Dunno, champ. I reckon ponies would approach the city saying "I don't want my foal ta hafta walk five kilometers to school each day" so they just built a new schoolhouse in the area nearby and called it a day."

"I guess. It just seems inefficient. Without the ability to easily travel several kilometers in a few minutes I suppose it does make more sense. It kinda blows my mind that ponies have never looked into any form of mass transit though. Except trains, and I guess those were one of the first mass transit things humans did too."

Cure pauses in thought for a moment before he recalls one form of transportation in the cartoons he hasn't seen at all yet. "Enchanted carriages," he starts, looking at his parents, "where are they? I haven't ever seen one."

"The ones pegasi pull? You don’t really see those privately owned much," Title explains, "but I hadn't thought of that when you were talking about pegasi aura stuff. I bet that's what the enchantment does. There’s companies in most cities you can rent those from. I don’t think it’s cheap."

"Darn… I bet that's a proprietary enchantment somepony figured out and keeps locked away."

"Probably. There's only a few companies that make those carriages. I don't know if they do the construction and enchantment or if they just build them and contract the enchantment part to another company."

Cure lets out a deep sigh. "I think we've stumbled on another obstacle to ponykind's progress. If that's the same enchantment company that has been around for a millennium and they're still able to keep that enchantment locked away then it's no wonder progress stops. Human patents only last like twenty years."

"Why do you think they've been around a millennium, sweetie? I thought your plays only covered about 90 years from now."

"There's a Nightmare Night episode with Luna in it. She arrives in town in this over-the-top villainous looking carriage that I am pretty sure was in storage since before her banishment. It scares the heck out of the ponies in town because it's the same place Nightmare Moon attacked when her banishment ended."

Chuckling, Cure adds, "I swear if I can find a way to share memories in an enchanted crystal the first thing I'm going to do when she's back is cram one of those down Luna's throat with a modern ponese primer installed on it. Maybe I can include some cultural "do" and "do not's" for her."

"Right," Title rolls her eyes, "good luck getting anywhere near her, Cure. Anyhow, you could be right about the patent thing. It may also just not be patented and nopony else has figured it out. I'm curious whether the enchantment is capable of expanding other tribes’ auras or if there's a reason it only works on pegasi."

"Maybe it doesn't do anything with auras," Cure suggests. "It just replicates the reduced mass or weight effect, mom. If it could expand or enhance other auras that would probably be a bigger benefit to us. After all, range is the biggest shortcoming we have. I can't fathom how useful it would be to extend our TK field several meters instead of a hoof or so."

"That's probably right," she agrees with a slow nod. Title takes a few bites while thinking. "Ya know what? You said the auras aren't magic. They're innate fields of some kind. I bet the enchantment is magical and just replicating it instead of somehow directly interacting with it."

"Good point, mom. It's probably possible to come up with a spell or enchantment to boost auras, but that does sound more complicated than just recreating the effect somehow. There's a spell I had discussed with Solar that gives a pony functional wings. I wonder if there's any overlap is in the runic diagram for that and whatever the carriages use."

"Anyhow, dam, school is going well and it's kinda fun for the most part. It's basically me and all the foals we run with just hanging out while we're learning together. Miss Apple gives us a lecture, we spend a while reading and discussing it while she works with the older foals, and occasionally she'll have the whole class pay attention for some topics instead."

"Yep, that's basically how it works, champ. Are they doin anything like a play for Hearth's Warming?"

"Nope! Another school got picked to do the play this year, probably because we have a new teacher, so I dodged that… well, I guess bullet doesn’t work here. Arrow. I dodged that arrow."

"Aww! I thought we’d finally get to hear that lovely singing voice 'a yers, son."

Raising an eyebrow at the stallion, Cure wipes his face, clears his throat, and sings out a perfect scale to the wide-eyed astonishment of all three. "Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Dooooo"

"Oh honey! That was beautiful! I didn't know you could sing like that! When did you start practicing? I've never heard you sing before."

"He freakin cheated!" Title shouts, poking Cure with a hoof. He smiles smugly back and nods.

"Yep. Hitting notes right isn't hard when you can have enhanced hearing. I can also make minor tweaks to increase my range, but that’s not necessary to hit most notes. It’s more about the precision muscle control. I haven't tried but I bet I could reproduce most wind instruments too. That would take some practice and a lot of tweaking, though."

"Pretty impressive, son. I think ya oughta share that hearin and maybe the sniffer with us if ya think we can manage 'em."

"It's been a few weeks since I gave you the heat sensors. We can start doing the same thing with other senses at night when I'm working on your skeleton and height and whatnot."

"So we'll be able to hear as well as the bat ponies can?"

"Actually, mom, I ended up going with the hearing sensors from a moth. Their hearing is just as good as an actual bat’s and, of course, moth sized. No tinkering with the brain anymore if I can avoid it. The difference is that we have to train our brains to manage the additional data."

"The same warning applies as with the heat sensors. If you all start feeling skittish or anxious it may be sensory overload setting in. I'll probably only up your sensitivity a few percent every week or two. We already have pretty good hearing and smell."

"Can you do me right now?"

"I'd like to try it too, sport. Finish yer food and let's do it before we leave if ya don't mind."

"Alright, one sec." Cure quickly finishes the last few bites and levitates everypony's setting to the sink, then joins his parents in the living room. Deed is sandwiched between the mares with their cushions all pulled together, so Cure climbs up on his back.

"I'll need you all to supply the magic mostly, that way I'm not running low at the gym."

"Sure, champ. Ready when you are."

Laying down on his sire, Cure rests his head on Deed's withers and gets started. The change is mainly to the tympanic membrane and the receptors surrounding it, but there are also changes needed to the cilia as well.

For the enhanced sense of smell the density and quantity of receptors in the nose are both increased. Typically each smell receptor has one dedicated olfactory neuron, but the modified organelles Cure adds include a wide variety of specialized receptors on each neuron, allowing him and, now, his sire to detect a variety of scents that typical ponies are incapable of picking up.

In order to not overwhelm the stallion, Cure doesn't add many of the receptors. It'll still be an adjustment for Deed, but not so bad as suddenly going from typical pony to bloodhound levels would be.

"Alright, dad. Take a few minutes to get used to it. The biggest changes will be the variety of things you can smell and hear. You'll hear and smell more, but I tried to keep the actual intensity at about the same level until you can get used to it. Maybe I can hook all of that into your conscious nerve control so you can turn it up and down yourself."

"Really? That sounds great!"

After pausing in thought, Cure nods to himself. "Yeah let me do that instead. One sec."

Diving back in, Cure makes the changes but sets everything to the lowest intensity, which is basically baseline pony, just with a wider scope of detection. "Okay dad, feel this?" he asks, gradually adjusting the smell setting up and down in tiny increments.

"Yeah. Feels weird, but I got it."

"I really don't think you want to turn it up all the way. It'll be like getting a face full of really strong perfume or something. Now pay attention to your hearing. Feel this?" he asks, doing the same with the receptor cells surrounding the tympanic membrane.

"Got it."

"Okay. Just be conscious of the frequency of things you're hearing and try not to visibly react to stuff it should be impossible to detect normally."

"I've brought up changelings several times. If you walk past a pony that smells weird or, especially, smells like they've been underground, you have to control your reaction and your emotions, for example. A spike of fear directed their way will tip 'em off that somepony may know there's something wrong, for example."

"Oof… that may be hard to pull off, son."

"Yer gonna have to, babe," Title explains. "They may run away, but they may also note your mark and colors and come try to take ya to find out what tipped ya off."

"Right," Cure agrees, nodding into his back, "they may even call in reinforcements and haul us off. We'd probably surprise them with how strong we are but I'd rather avoid that until I'm fully grown."

"Be especially mindful when in cities. I haven't detected any in Golden Hills, probably because there's just not enough ponies… or they’re just undetectable. I can almost guarantee there's at least a few in Baltimare, but the odds of just bumping into one with how infrequently we're there is small."

"I'll do my best, son."

"Good deal. You're up, mom," Cure calls, gingerly climbing off of his side and snuggling into the pink mare. Cure walks her through the same steps as Deed and she immediately starts poking around the house. Once she gets close to the stairs she yells back, "Oh wow! I can still smell Lemon and Amy from upstairs!"

"And that's why I keep my senses at normal pony levels most of the time. Dam? Are you interested in trying these? You'll have full control over the intensity, so I'm just making it possible for you to detect more if you want. It's not like you'll have to turn them up or down if you don't want to."

Looking at her mates she asks, "Is it really just normal if you keep the intensity on low?" Both reply with nods and encouragement, so she finally relents. "I… guess that's okay sweetie."

"If you aren't sure just say so, dam. This really needs to be your choice, not anypony else's. You've been a little inconsistent with which changes you're okay with and which you're not, so I'm not really clear on whether there's a logical reason or if it's more of an emotional response to change in general."

"I'm sorry, baby, it's just… I don't know why but changing things like that just… I don't know! It worries me and I'm not sure why."

"It's okay, dam. I've talked at length several times about how resistant to change ponies seem to naturally be. This is just like the skeletal strengthening we're doing. It's something that'll help keep us safer. With enhanced smell you'll be able to detect things that may go unnoticed otherwise."

"For example, maybe some rodents find your garden. With the improved smell you'd know right away before they multiply or something. The important part is that you have control over the change. Nopony is going to force you to do anything you don't want to."

"No, you're right. I don't have a good reason and it could be very useful. Go ahead, honey."

Cure leans into her side. Once she begins sharing her magic he makes the same changes, then goes through the quick training process like the other two. "Go try some of the food left from lunch, dam. I didn't do anything to your taste buds, but I think you'll pick up more flavors now too. Hopefully you can get a bite or two before mom inhales it all," he suggests, smirking at the glare sent his way from the kitchen.

"Thanks, sweetie, I'll go try a few things before I clean up the kitchen."

"Sure thing, dam. The same warning I gave dad applies; adjust slow or it'll overwhelm ya. You especially wanna take it slow on already strong flavors like spices and stuff. I don't think it would be harmful, but certainly unpleasant." Looking at his sire he calls out, "Hey dad, when do we need to go?"

"Whenever yer ready, sport. Bulwark asked us ta get there in time for the afternoon train, so we may wanna head out."

"Alright, bye dam, bye mom, enjoy your horny mare book club," he says, giving each a nuzzle before making his way towards the door.

The guard station reminds Cure more of a police station from a 1920s mob movie more than any kind of military outpost. The building is two stories tall with no real defensive properties he associates with the police in America. It looks like any other office building as best he can tell, just a bit more ornate than the typical cookie-cutter square buildings that don't get crown money.

The main entrance opens directly to a lobby with a few rows of upholstered benches. There's enough waiting room for maybe a dozen ponies, but with a wide reception counter there's room for three petitioners to talk to a receptionist or guard at a time.

Cure assumes the lobby doesn't get a lot of visitors in a small town like Golden Hills. Crime, as far as he knows, is nearly non-existent here. The rest of the building behind the reception desk is blocked off by walls on either side of it with a single, heavy looking locked door to the right.

The mare covering the front desk must have been told to expect the pair. Before Deed even approaches to get in line behind the current petitioner she asks the pony she's helping to give her a second. She disappears through a door and Cure hears her yell "They're here, sarge!" She waves them towards the door when she returns and resumes her conversation with the mare. It's apparently something about property lines and a dispute over misplanted produce.

Deed and Cure stand at the door for a moment until it's opened by a chestnut colored unicorn mare with a crimson mane. "Clean Deed and Cure Wave, right?" When they both say "You bet, miss" and "Yes ma'am" she jerks her head behind herself, tells the pair to follow, turns around, and leads them back through a hallway that turns left after about six meters.

There's a door immediately on the right after the turn, but Cure isn't tall enough to see through the glass. From the sounds and smells he's pretty sure it's just an office area. The door on the left goes into the receptionist's area. Cure can see the hallway turns right again, with a couple more doors on the right. The first leads into the same office area again but the farther one is apparently their destination.

The mare opens the door to a meeting room with Sgt. Bulwark by a large chalkboard surrounded by bulletin boards and four more ponies taking up most of the front row of desks. The desks are more akin to schoolroom style desks, apparently meant for the guards to take notes on.

I think this is what they called the bullpen on Dragnet. It looks a lot like the meeting rooms where they would have their daily briefings. And now I've seen my first bat pony. Neat.

As the chestnut mare takes the closest desk Bulwark greets the new arrivals. "Mr. Deed, Mr. Wave," he continues, ignoring the amused look from Cure, "come on up, front and center."

After the two walk to the front of the group he turns back to them explaining, "Alright everypony, this," he rests a hoof on Cure's withers, "is Cure Wave, the RMF-4 we got at the beginning of the month. He's going to make the two hours of exercise you get today worth twenty or more. He's gonna whip us and the other group under Sgt. Haze into shape over the next three months, then we'll evaluate our progress and maybe do three more. He's asked to not share his status unnecessarily, so you will respect that."

Nodding to Deed he continues. "His sire, Mr. Clean Deed is accompanying him today." With another glance back to the group he waves to the chestnut unicorn and says, "Introduce yourselves. Corporal Ricochet led you back here, go ahead and start, corporal."

The same chestnut mare stands, more at ease in Cure's mind rather than at attention, and quickly rattles off, "Corporal Ricochet. It's nice to meet you. Feel free to just call me Rico," before sitting back down.

Next is a denim blue pegasus stallion with a yellow mane. "Corporal Static Arc. A pleasure. Static is fine."

The bat pony mare to his right stands next. She has a blue coat as well, but is more of a navy shade with wine colored mane, tail, and wings. "Sergeant Shadow Song, Night Guard lead. Just Song works."

Cure feels a little guilty for some reason. He'd expected some kind of strange tick or Transylvanian accent, but aside from the slightly bigger, deeper, perkier ears, a set of human-looking teeth, membraneous wings, and a softer voice than average she seems perfectly normal. She is a little shorter than Static, but that's typical for mares.

Well there goes another fanon bullshit thing down the drain. So far with bat ponies more shit seems wrong than right. Most didn't really make sense anyhow I guess. Why would an omnivore version of the same species be physically smaller? And why would they have an accent from a part of Europe that doesn't seem to have an equivalent here?

Despite Cure's drifting thoughts the introductions continue when a pale yellow unicorn stallion with an orange mane stands up. "Private Silent Bolt. Bolt's good enough for me."

Last to stand is, as best Cure can tell, is a slightly more blonde maned, mare copy of Big Macintosh. "Private Rushing Charge. Just call me Rush," she says in a deep voice.

Cure swears on the spot that if his Great Grandsire ends up pissed at him somehow he's going to hide behind the private. Her cutie mark is, coincidentally, a brick wall being blown apart like a wrecking ball just hit it.

"This is the first half of the guards I plan on entering in next year's competition, Cure. Any questions?"

"A couple. First off, what's RMF-4?"

"Article seven of the revised code deals with restricted weapons and schools of magic. RM is just the designation for "Restricted Magic" and, in that article, section F lists allowed exemptions. A cutie mark granted talent is the fourth one, as you may have guessed."

Cure slowly nods along with a thoughtful frown. "Huh. Okay, that makes sense. Has everypony had my talent explained to them? The scanning part is what I'm curious about, specifically."

"They have," Bulwark assures him with a nod. "They're all aware that you've started working at the clinic too, so," he continues answering even while turning to the group, "they will treat you in a professional manner, regardless of your youth," he finishes in what was clearly an order. From the looks on their faces it came through loud and clear.

"Perfect. Are they all current on physicals or do I need to check 'em over before we leave? I don't want to have to pull somepony out of cardiac arrest when I could've prevented it, ya know?"

"No, we don’t want that. Sgt. Haze gave them all a checkup a few days after we ran. If he'd found anything you probably would have heard from us ASAP."

"Great! I think we're all set. Unless there was anything else…?"

"Just one thing. Here," he says while hoofing over a couple lanyards, "you'll need to wear those outside the gymnasium at Base Carol."

The two look over the lanyards; the attached tag is a bright orange card that says "ADVISOR" on one side and on the other is their names, colors, marks, and "BRG3 SSG BULWARK" at the bottom.

"BRG3?" Cure asks looking up to the sergeant.

"Baltimare Regional Guard, Sector 3. That's the squad designation for any guard unit posted in Golden Hills." At Cure's understanding nod he turns back to the group and shouts, "Let's move!"

The five squaddies line up with Cure and Deed taking the rear, then exit the building through a guarded back door. Once outside Sgt. Song takes the rear position, Sgt. Bulwark leads, the two corporals take the left side and the privates on the right. The group moves at a fast trot with Deed and Cure following behind side by side heading to the train station.

Base Carol is a hell of a lot smaller than any military base Cure had ever seen in the US. The standard buildings were all present; barracks, armory, training grounds, command facilities, an MP… or rather Guard Police station, etcetera. It's just all scaled down from what he's accustomed to. It was only about the size of a large high school and the surrounding campus, so 200 acres, give or take.

Granted Edward never had much reason to be on a military base, but Fort Knox was basically a city from what he remembered when he went to a cousin's Basic graduation. There was also an air force museum on a base not too far away and, while he didn't see much of the base itself, there were literal miles of highway exit signs for Section A, B, C and so on.

Base Carol is home to only a couple dozen ponies, with the vast majority living off base in the city. The ground-based city is split into four quadrants, each with a Second Lieutenant commanding several sergeants or an occasional Staff Sergeant further dividing the region.

A special, dedicated air unit of pegasi with a few unicorns and earth ponies to support it is assigned to the pegasus neighborhood that tends to hover mostly to the northwest, about a half kilometer off the ground. Since the area is almost exclusively a housing development and the air unit can patrol much more quickly, the actual size is much smaller than the outlying communities and has a single sergeant assigned.

Everypony ultimately reports to the captain responsible for the safety of the citizens in the metropolitan area, though most issues are filtered by the First Lieutenant that serves as his executive officer.

Because the total company size is only a few hundred, including the Regional Guard units in surrounding communities, the base itself doesn't look to be any more than a dozen or so buildings. Cure assumes each section of the city has several outposts that have the individual squads' standard gear on site and serve as police stations like the one in Golden Hills.

The only one that concerns Cure at the moment is the gymnasium, which, on the inside, is strikingly similar to what he'd seen on his previous trip to a gym in Baltimare. So much so that he wonders if Rusty Barbell is a former guard and copied the idea. As much as he is dying to, he resists the urge to get his own personal numbers and instead focuses on the job he's being paid for.

"Sarge, did you have specific goals in mind for each of your guards or are we just going to have them all working on pure strength training?"

"Sergeants Song, Haze, and I came up with a training plan, son. We don’t expect you to sort all that out for us. Just do what you can to help them with their strength training and we’ll do the rest."

"Alright. Okay, everypony, I want your attention here, please," Cure yells as he leads the group to the draft pull machine Deed had used last time. "I need a volunteer, preferably somepony that hasn't ever lifted much before."

"Yo!" Silent Bolt yells as he laughs and runs up to the machine. "I'm guessin ya don't mean horn-power. I ain't never lifted no weight 'cept durin basic."

The private seems to be genuine. He’s not muscular like an earth pony, but he lacks the somewhat softer look most unicorns have. Lean is a good description for the younger yellow stallion that Cure estimates is in his late teens to early twenties.

"What? Wasn't basic really difficult then? Solar Strike has been killing himself to get in shape."

"Sgt. Haze's son? I know, the colt's ripped. They don't work unicorns like that. Muscle ain't the most important thing for us, ya know?"

"What?" Cure asks, looking to Bulwark for confirmation and getting a nod back. "You do realize that the more muscle a unicorn has, the faster you regenerate magic, right?"

"Eh, that's never been proven. Glad ya did yer research though, colt."

"Well I'm telling you from experience working with Solar, it's true as best I can tell. You run yourself dry tonight and time how long it takes to get back to normal, then do it again in three months. You'll see a difference, trust me."

The private is just about to answer before Bulwark cuts in, "I'd like to see those numbers, private. We'll test that out when we get back to town later." Pvt. Bolt grimaces at the order, but nods in acceptance with a "Yes sir!"

"Alright Bolt, that aside, strap yourself into the harness here and we're going to demonstrate how my talent can help you build muscle. Before we start, you all gorged at lunch before I met with ya, right?"

Getting affirmations from everypony he continues, "Great! We're going to turn that food into straight muscle now. How much is your max on the draft pull?"

"Two forty," he proudly beams. Cure isn't sure if that is high or low for a unicorn. Probably not bad if it's a hundred kg over his body weight.

"Alright then we'll start at one sixty just to warm ya up. Give me ten of those while I explain."

With a nod the yellow stallion levitates the bolt into the hole for two plates, slips the harnesses on, tightens it down, and starts pulling while Cure calls over the grunts and sounds of moving metal.

"So what happens when you exercise?" he asks. "The strain you put on your body creates microtears in your muscles. Micro means small, of course, and in this instance you would need a good microscope to see them. Your body detects that injury and, instead of just putting it back how it was, adds a little extra too, that way the same exercise won't cause as much damage next time."

"Ligaments and tendons go through a similar process to gain flexibility and strength but it's a lot slower than muscle. Bones do something a little different. When they're strained they don't tear or anything, thankfully, but the tiny parts that make up the bone will basically say, "Hey that strain sucked, I need to toughen up so I don't break next time." I can cause your body to do all of that in a couple minutes instead of weeks. How many reps is that, Bolt?"

"Eight"
"Nine"
"Ten," he grunts out, easing the weight back down. "Bit much for a warmup, colt."

"Don't worry, Bolt, this is the good part. Give me a hoof bump and hold it a moment. I'm going to fix ya back up ta daisy fresh and then we'll really get started. I just wanted that heart pumping before the real show. You're gonna feel the same thing as a diagnostic spell here. This’ll take a moment the first time I run it on each of ya."

Bolt reaches out and grabs Cure's hoof with everypony watching in silence. Cure gives the unicorn the full "Get Swol" routine he'd developed over the last month and a half, plus a little direct manipulation of the strained muscles beefing the private up similar to how Solar had over a week of running. After about two minutes he lets go.

"Alright Bolt, let's give 240 a go," he says, getting raised brows from everypony but his sire.

"Umm… alright, well I definitely feel good as new, so sure." Bolt moves the pin down a plate, squares up, pulls the lines taut, and with a great deal of strain slowly pulls himself forward, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the non-earth ponies present. After about ten seconds he gets to the line that marks a body length, then slowly backs the plates down to the stack.

"WOO! SWEET CELESTIA!" he yells out, pumping a hoof to the cheers of the others. Even Bulwark is giving him an approving stomp and smiling proudly at the private. "See that Rico? Two forty on the first try! Sarge, this colt's pure gold! What's next, son?"

"Next, we repeat the cycle. It'll take several sets to get up to two eighty. Sarge, what's the safe limit for a unicorn before their grabbing field can't keep up with the weight? I'm sure there's an upper limit."

"On that machine I think it's two and a half times body mass. I think Sgt. Haze said Bolt is one thirty, so he'll need to go to a different machine after three twenty. How about you work with Bolt and just come around patching the rest of us up between sets. If yer sire's okay with it he can join me and Private Rush so we can show him how all the different machines work."

"Sounds good, sarge. Thanks!" Deed calls out.

"Sure, I think next time we come we should bring some carryout though. Private Bolt doesn't have a lot of fat on him for me to work with, so once we burn through the food in his stomach and a few kg of body fat he'll be done for the day."

"This isn't going to take three months, is it?"

"I'd wager two, tops. But that gives me time to work with the flyers on their wing strength and unicorns on horn endurance, so by the end of month three your squads are gonna eat lightning and crap thunder."

"HA! Sounds good, son. Don't let Bolt slack off, now."

"Yessir," Cure calls back and gets the unicorn ready for round three.

"Alright Bolt," Cure starts.

"Yo!" The eager unicorn interrupts with a big smile, holding out a hoof for a pick-me-up.

Cure taps him and fixes him up again. "Keep it at two forty until it's easy. I don't want you losing your balance, got it?"

"Yeah, you bet, Cure. No need bashing into the machine."

Cure looks at the unit. There is a bar there that'll keep somepony from being yanked into the cables, plus the weights would be on the ground way before the pony would get there. Still, getting bodily slammed into the thing would not be a fun time.

"Yeah," Cure agrees, "we definitely don't want that. Get started, I'm going to go around and get everypony else going. Try for two reps."

Cure joins the flyers first. Sgt. Song has fitted herself into a harness that has a four point attachment from her shoulders and rear hips. The straps all lead to a metal clip. The clip is clamped onto a ring attached to a cable going down into a raised surface just a couple hooves above the floor.

There's apparently some pulleys down there ultimately leading to a stack of plates off to the side going from twenty to two hundred kg.

Cure notices three additional surfaces, each a few body lengths away and a meter and a half up that she could clamp onto as well, boxing her in on all but one side, each with a cable dangling loose.

"Huh, neat," he mumbles, looking over the setup. "I'm guessing this prevents your mass reduction aura from hitting the weight and the three others are so you can work your wings in other directions?"

"Yep," Static answers, pointing at the side plates, "using one or more we can build up the muscles and control to pull diagonally or in any direction. Ya just gotta make sure you anchor in and keep your legs clear." Waving Cure back out of the way he calls out, "Give it a go, sarge."

Cure moves back and watches as the bat pony mare spreads her wings and gracefully lifts off the ground. Once she's about a meter up the line pulls tight and she starts pumping her wings much harder. Cure sees four plates, ten kg each, begin lifting off the stack.

There's a yellow line about three meters high on the walls surrounding the raised surface that apparently represents the full rep has been done. Once Song reaches that she slows her wing beats and gradually drops back until the weights clank down, then repeats the process nine more times.

"Jeez, the precision you all have is unreal," he compliments. "What's considered a lot of weight? I don't have any frame of reference for flyers."

"Thanks, Cure," Song starts, "some stallions can get up to eighty kg, but us bats tend to have less power, more precision. Forty kg on this translates to a little under two hundred kg with our aura, not counting our own body weight. We'll tire quickly at that weight though."

"Still… that means you could possibly lift my sire, and he's twice yer size. I bet we can get you over sixty within a couple months. Ready for a refresher?" he asks, holding his hoof out.

Song reaches over and holds on. As he goes to work rejuvenating her muscles she gasps and lets out a pleased sigh. "Oh wow! That felt wonderful!" She flaps her wings a couple times and smiles brightly at the colt. "Feels like I'm just getting started! Thanks, Cure."

"You bet. I have less experience with pegasi wings and you're the first bat pony I've met, so it may take a few more sets for me to really get a feel for what exactly the end result of this should look like. Don't be surprised if your gains aren't as immediately pronounced like the others. We'll get there," he assures them.

"Sounds great to me, son." Static says. "If we can gain ten or twenty kg that'll make one Tartarus of a difference on our turn speed and maneuverability."

"I bet. Take off speed too. Alright, I'll cycle back through in a few minutes," he calls as he starts making his way to Corporal Ricochet. She's working out on what appears to be a modified smith machine.

It's basically the same as a human version, but instead of a bar going horizontally there's two, both connected with padding and adjustable so the weight can rest on the withers and haunches instead of the back where it would cause an injury. There's also a safety bar that can be raised or lowered so that a pony won't get crushed if they bite off more than they can chew.

"How's it going, Rico?"

"Good! I haven't lifted in a couple years, so it's super exciting to get back into it while on the clock. Having somepony like you here to boost us up is just icing on the cake! Is it my turn?"

"Yep, you already did some warmups, I assume?" Cure can detect a hint of sweat on her already, so she obviously had.

"Yep! This is my max right here. Or, it used to be. One fifty kg," she says as she pats one of the bars. Each has a twenty five kg plate on, so the bars must add twenty five each also. Looking down she meets his eyes, holds out a hoof, and gives him a big smile while saying, "Lay it on me, young stallion! Let's do this!"

Smiling at her enthusiasm he takes her hoof and gives her the same treatment as Bolt, then waves her to the machine. "I'll have to go visit the earth ponies next, then I'll cycle back around every five minutes or so. Just do the heaviest you can as many times as you can on each set, then cool down, okay?"

"You bet!" she calls as she gets in position, semi-crawling under the padding before straining to stand while lifting the weights. Cure watches as she does three reps before she barely gets the bar down without collapsing. She still does collapse afterwards, but she's almost giggling while yelling "WOOO!" from the ground.

Cure walks around the side of the machine and puts a hoof on her side. Within a minute her breathing has slowed and she calls out, "That's some good shit right there. Err… oops."

"Ahh, my poor virgin ears! I'm like super traumatized and stuff," Cure flatly faux-yells while smiling at the mare and covering his ears with his hooves. "Just don't let the sarge hear ya. He may get mad about you warping my innocent mind," he finishes with a nod, getting a barked out laugh back.

"Oh, you may also want to run your horn through the alphabet while we're at this. Those are muscles we can work out also," he explains while standing. "I'm be back in a few, it's the earth pony squad's turn."

After making a quick detour to Bolt to get him going on horn exercises, Cure trots over to the three that are moving between four machines. One is a foreleg extension, the other is for hind legs, and the third is a neck lift machine, and the last one is for the neck too, but focuses on sideways motion instead.

Deed had apparently realized on his own that he should only be relying on pure muscle power, as he was doing about three quarters what the larger ponies were doing. Still, the weights were impressive, with the foreleg machine sporting six twenty five kg plates, the rear leg a full dozen, four on the head lift, and three on the sideways lift machine.

"Everypony ready for a boost?"

"That'd be great, sport. I tell ya, the sarge and private here are makin yer pa feel some kinda inadequate," his sire melodramatically laments.

"I'm not so sure that's a fair competition, pa."

"The colt's got that right. My sire would be ashamed if I wasn't able to keep up with a civilian," Rush explains. "Of course it's pretty obvious you've been busy hittin the trail since yer doing as well as you have been." With a smirk she adds, "I bet the wives appreciate that, huh stud?"

"Don't mind the private," Bulwark interrupts, glaring at the innocent face she's making, "yer sire's in great shape, Cure. I can't help but wonder how you'd fare on these. Shame we'll have to wait until you're a little taller to see."

"Aww, I'm gonna blush," Deed quietly mumbles with a coy look.

"Yeah, the only machine I think I can safely use is the press that Rico's on, and only because it goes down almost to the floor. There's also the free weight area I can probably do a few things in, but that can wait."

"Eh, if ya promise to be careful we can spot ya on it and find out before we go. Once everypony gets in a routine you can feel free to sneak a set in between rounds when the opportunity comes up."

"That would be great, sarge. By the way, the flyers are working on wing power and I have both unicorns buzzing away, so we may be able to do everything concurrently."

"Sounds good, just tell anypony that you notice over specializing to change machines, but for the most part they know what they need."

"Sure thing, sarge. Are you three ready for a hoof bump?" he asks, holding his hoof out for them.

The next hour and a half turns into a cycle of Cure trotting between the different ponies as they move from station to station, boosting each one and clearing out any fatigue. He would occasionally stop for a minute of small talk, but with four to seven stations, depending on if they were sharing a machine, he didn't get much down time unless somepony was taking a water or potty break.

Not everypony moved up a full plate on every machine, but every one of them saw noticeable gains, typically doubling the number of reps at a given weight or going up a half plate and getting the same reps.

The earth ponies were the big winners, of course, and Cure took a minute to warn everypony else not to get jealous at their progress. "Just keep in mind that what I'm doing is basically the same thing that an earth pony's innate magic does, so the effect is additive. What I've witnessed before is my talent basically provides their magic with the blueprints and their magic keeps working in that direction, even between workouts."

"Don't be surprised if we come back in two weeks and the sarge and private are slightly stronger than they are even right now, okay?"

Getting a round of nods and agreements, Cure asks if there's time for a quick set on the smith machine or if they need to get out.

"No way," Bolt starts, "I wanna see what the colt can do. I got twenty bits on one fifty, easy."

"One fifty? I started at one fifty. I'll take that, I don't think he'll do over one twenty five," Rico calls back.

"He'll do over that," Rush casually explains. "If he does any less than two hundred I'll be shocked."

"Two hundred?" Static asks, scratching at his chin. "Eh, sure, I'll take that. Twenty bits sound good, Rush?"

"Sure, easy money," the orange earth pony agrees with a nod, then winks at Cure and mouths "Show em!"

Both sergeants decline joining in, and Deed just sits back smirking. "Give it Tartarus, son."

"You bet, pa. Set the height and put two fifty on there. I'm not sure what my max is but I suspect it's around three fifty."

"Ahh damn," he hears from Rico as he watches Bulwark and Rush put two plates on each side of the bars after lowering it.

"Just don't hurt yourself, son," Bulwark says as he steps back. That should be impossible, given the bar is already at its lowest setting with the actual plates barely a hoof off the ground. Cure could lay down and it wouldn't be touching him if he kept his head down.

Cure climbs under the padded surface and calls out, "It’s a little under four times my body weight. I can do one-legged squats easy enough, so this shouldn’t be a problem.” Ensuring he’s properly lined up, it occurs to Cure that even at the low setting he’ll only be able to lift it a short distance. “I'm only tall enough to lift it a little over two hooves, does that count?"

"That's fine, champ, yer all set."

The first inch is definitely the hardest, and Cure can imagine having to use his magic to get the bars off the guard rails at three fifty, but he's able to get it up with a little struggle and does another two reps just to dissuade any arguments that he didn't manage it. Deed, Bolt, Song, and Rush all cheer as he finishes.

"Really, Rico?" Song asks, giving the chestnut unicorn an incredulous look. "We need to talk about your ability to analyze threats, cause the colt could break you in half if he got a hoof on ya. I think you all forget how much stronger earth ponies are than the rest of us."

Backing out of the machine without waving his rear in the air is the hardest part, but he manages to not show everypony his undercarriage too much.

"Whew. Okay I'm a little uncertain about three fifty. Maybe three hundred, but that first half-hoof is brutal."

"How could I possibly have expected an eight year old colt to do that?" Rico protests, waving at the weights.

"Step one is to look at his legs, corporal. They’re as thick as yours and, again, he's an earth pony," Song slowly explains. "Then you consider he just said earth ponies gain strength from his talent even after the fact, and he’s got it runnin all the time" she finishes with an eye roll.

"Oh yeah… he did say that, huh? Whatever, I'll pay up at the station."

The rest of the time is spent re-racking all of the weights, after which the unicorns walk through and hit each machine with a cleaning spell. After Sgt. Bulwark signs the group out, they begin their march back to the train station.

Cantering beside him, Cure calls up, "Hey sarge, would you be interested in scrolls for yer guards to carry? As part of his standard patrol kit I told Solar I expect him to carry at least a shield and a teleport scroll, but honestly I can't come up with a good reason why every guard shouldn't have a basic loadout in case things unexpectedly go to Tartarus."

Bulwark looks at the colt with curiosity. "You are able to make scrolls?"

"Yep. Technically, anypony can make a scroll, but I can make them uncharged, then your unicorns can charge a set for each guard. Or you can keep half charged and keep the other half as backups. The hope is, of course, you'll never use them but they can be recharged safely for three months before they're trash."

"I'm certainly interested. I'll speak with my casters to see what spells they recommend. We have a line item for enchanting supplies that we've never taken advantage of; no scribes or enchanters in the squad, after all. How exactly do you make them?"

"My talent gives me a level of muscle control that is good enough that I can reliably write them. I'm sure Dawn will be happy to help too. There’s spells that let unicorns transfer spells they know onto a scroll. I've been showing her and Solar how to do scrolls and crystals so they'll always have a backup if their horns are disabled."

"Smart."

"Right? Incredibly useful for the hornless too. I can't imagine what kind of terror a quick, silent flyer like Sgt. Song could be with a pack of stunners. I'd suggest spending a little extra to get them Basic Invisibility gems. Early's shop here in town sells the gems for fifteen bits and Dawn can program them."

"The sarge or her bats could get into a flanking position on anypony causing problems and sit there invisible with a stunner ready in case they escalated. Nopony would ever know they're there unless they had to act."

"That may be a tad more aggressive than most of our situations warrant, son," Bulwark points out.

"You'd know better than I, sarge, but if somepony's decided they wanna get obstinate with the guard a Stun spell sounds a lot less aggressive than a hoof to the face as best I can tell. A lot safer for your troops too.”

Bulwark can’t really help but concede the point. The colt may be a little too quick to turn to fighting, but between the choice of a Stun spell and the way he pinned Wind Shear without hurting her, he at least seems to go for the least harmful and most effective method he can think of.

It’ll just be another point in his report to the captain either way. The damned thing just seems to keep getting longer with how busy the foal’s been. Still, it’s been a huge relief that his first RM incident has gone as smoothly as this one has, especially given the class of magic the colt can use.

Thank the stars the only thing Cure seemed to be interested in is helping ponies because it’s certainly making his job a whole lot easier. He’ll never forget the incredulous looks he got from the captain and her lieutenant when he gave his preliminary report at the beginning of the week.

Helping ponies exercise, working at the clinic, and doing cosmetic makeovers. Those are the grand, nefarious plans of the horrible biomanipulating colt. It’s like the morons in command expected some kind of comic book villain or something when they asked what he’s doing with his talent.

And now, to Bulwark’s absolute lack of horror, the foal’s making rather insightful suggestions about how guards could potentially subdue troublemakers without anypony but the culprit getting hurt at all. Stun spells aren’t exactly pain-free, after all.

Instead of some huge threat the colt’s going to end up turning his guards into, possibly, the most physically fit squad anypony’s ever seen short of some special forces units.

If Cure can deliver on the scrolls and crystals like he says he’ll happily hoof over that entire line in his budget. It goes to waste every year anyhow because the damned unicorns in the city want twice the stipulated rate and none of the ones under his command bothered studying enchanting at all. Why bother, after all, if you can just cast the spell? Because obviously everypony has a horn, right?

“I suppose if it came to that point you’re not wrong. Even if we don’t need it in Golden Hills we can test the feasibility here. The ideas may be more useful in the cities. From what I’ve seen there’s some more… energetic ponies out later in the evening downtown than we typically have in these parts.”

“Good point, sarge. They may be better off buying gems in the long run if they burn through scrolls too fast. Once I have a list of spells you’d like in each kit Dawn, Solar, and I will get started. We’ll probably have to make a second set for training purposes too. There’s no sense given ‘em tools without showing them how to use them, after all.”

“True. I’ll have Sgt. Haze get that list to you when you take his squad next Friday. Give it a look and, if there’s anything you need, let the sergeant know. We’ll probably start with a set for our flyers. I can see that being a real force multiplier with their mobility, as you pointed out. There’s already crown approved rates for this, so I’ll have him give you the list so you can make sure it’s worth your time.”

“Sounds good, sarge. When we get back I'd like to have a short chat with each guard. My talent detects a few things that I'm guessing Sgt. Haze's spells skip like cavities, arthritis, and so forth. I normally do that in private but as their CO I'm certainly not going to ask you to wait outside."

"Alright. There's an office by the briefing room we were in that we can use."

"Perfect. Thanks sarge!"

Bulwark did join Cure for the meetings. Cure wasn't sure if he was concerned he'd brainwash them somehow or if it was just standard procedure, but it didn't bother him much either way.

The first meeting was with Rush and, as the sergeant expected of a healthy earth pony, there was barely anything brought up other than some cosmetic dental work that Cure took care of. Rush was thrilled to hear her next dental appointment would go well, but she would still need imaging done to update her records after the colt moved a few teeth to line everything up better.

The next meeting started similarly, with Bolt getting the same dental treatment. It went a bit differently afterwards though.

"So yer teeth are literally perfect, now let's talk about eyesight."

"My eyes are fine, whatta ya mean, colt?"

"They're good, just a smidge short of perfect, really, but if you'd like we can adjust that smidge to the other direction and your eyes will be beyond what's considered perfect for a typical pony if you'd like. My understanding is that it can help a lot with spell accuracy."

"Oh, stars yes! Hit me, colt!" he shouts, holding his hoof out.

"Normally I'd suggest closing your eyes. This won't be a big change though," Cure says, taking the hoof and making the change, then releasing the private.

Bolt blinks a few times then stares at a notice on the wall he can apparently read more easily before giving the colt a hoof bump and a thanks and sending Rico in for the same thing.

Static's meeting ended up being one that Bulwark wished he'd stepped out for.

"Alright corporal, your teeth are perfect but this next part may be a little unpleasant. Let me ask first, do you have foals?"

"Yeah, two, why?"

"Both fillies, right?"

"Yeah…"

"As it stands right now you can only produce fillies."

"What?!"

"I’m going to be blunt here, corporal. I keep the health stuff strictly professional, so everything said in here is between me, you, and the sarge, okay?” Static glances at Bulwark for a second, then looks back to Cure and hesitantly nods. “I'm not sure how or why, but you're only producing X-chromosome sperm. It's fixable but, as of now you could only possibly have fillies, assuming this isn't something new."

"How in the hay did you determine that?" he asks, eyebrows almost disappearing in his mane.

"My talent basically tells me when there's an injury, illness, deformity, or irregularity. To use a poor analogy, when I scan somepony it's like I'm looking at a detailed drawing. A problem is circled in bright red markers in my mind. Trust me, it's not typically a blessing by any stretch of the imagination."

"Ugh… I'm sure not. So what are my options here?"

"The only option I’ve got is to tell my magic to do whatever fix is necessary to correct the problem. One issue, and I’m warnin ya now so you don’t think anything weird is goin on, when I use my magic to fix this you’re gonna feel it, probably, even after I numb you."

"I think I would have to damn near cut off your whole spine for you to not feel it. Let's just say I'm going to stand off to the side for this treatment."

"HAH! Oh stars, that's hilarious. Is it gonna seriously… yanno?" he asks, waving a hoof up and away from himself.

"Dude I dunno, how many times do you think I've used my special talent to kerjigger with a dude's ballsack?" Cure asks, getting a snort from Bulwark and a full belly laugh from Static.

Once he gets himself under control Static can't even look the colt in the face while saying, "I can only assume I'm your first, but given the context I really wish I had another way to ask," causing all three to crack up.

"Oh, wow I hope the sarge has to put a transcript of this conversation in his report," Cure laughs out. "I can imagine him reading in a deadpan to the princess or somethin."

Cure alters his voice to nearly match Bulwark and stoically recites "Cure Wave then requested the corporal estimate the number of times he has used his magic on testicles, Your Highness. Static suggested he was Cure's first, then explained he would treasure the memory, Ma'am."

It takes a few minutes before they all stop laughing at the image, but the bout of comedy helps get rid of the awkwardness of the situation. Cure eventually steps to the side, looks away, and holds a hoof out behind himself to the corporal. Bulwark follows suit, looking away as well.

With a resigned sigh, Static grabs on and says, "Hit me." The experience isn't quite as bad as they'd feared, but the bizarre, foreign feel of somepony else's magic climbing around in his nuts definitely widens his eyes, pops his wings up, and makes him kick a leg back while calling out a quick "Yowza!"

Once the colt is done Static does a full body shudder, takes a second to calm down, then lets them know, "Okay, I'm good now. Damn, son if you were older I have some killer jokes, but you bein eight just makes 'em weird. Am I good ta go now?"

"Yeah dude, yer all set. I think Sgt. Song and the poor sarge here are my last two victims. Can ya send her in?"

"You bet. Thanks, Cure," he calls, walking out the door.

"It's my captain and her lieutenant, by the way," Bulwark explains, getting a questioning look from Cure. "If I have to read it to anypony it'll be them," he finishes as Song walks in and shuts the door.

"Please do it as dryly and deadpan as possible. Also, be sure to include the part where I mimicked your voice. Or better yet, let me come read it and I'll do everypony's voices. That would be freakin hilarious," he suggests with a chuckle. Facing Sgt. Song he asks, "How'd you like my impression of Sgt. Bulwark?"

"Uhh…"

"Oh come on, I know you've been sitting off to the side with those" he waves at her ears "adorable ears pointed this direction the whole time. Did we at least get a chuckle outta ya?" he asks with a smile.

Song looks to Bulwark with a raised brow, getting an unhelpful shrug in return. "I… umm. Yes, I may have laughed a little. Your pitch was slightly off though."

"Ah, well. Can't win 'em all. So, Sgt. Song, aside from the minor dental imperfections I've been addressing, the only issue I think you may have is a slight protein deficiency. My talent drew my attention to your blood; specifically your protein levels. I don't see any kidney or liver issues, so it's probably a dietary issue."

"I'm thinking maybe you're not eating enough meat and that's something you definitely want to address if you're going to get the gains you want from the gym." Pausing he adds, "Well, normally at least. You'll be fine when exercising with me but that's because I'm a big stinkin cheater and I can use fat."

"Meat is a little difficult to come by around here. I'll try to up my intake of nuts and tofu."

"Great! Hey, just say something if this is offensive, but are bat eyes typically light sensitive? I noticed your eyes are a little different from pegasus eyes."

"No, that's not offensive. We struggle during daylight hours; that's probably why a young foal like yourself hasn't met any of us before."

"That sucks. Would a nictitating membrane be something you'd be interested in? It could basically be a set of built-in sunglasses. It would probably make high speed flying without eye protection a lot less unpleasant."

“You can make changes like that?” Bulwark asks.

“You know I’m doing cosmetic work, right? Adding a thin, retractable layer of, basically, skin to the eye is no problem.” Holding up a hoof he says, “Gimme a sec, I’ll show ya,” then closes his eyes. After about thirty seconds, Cure’s finished giving himself a retractable membranous layer like many bird species have.

Opening his eyes wide he faces the pair. “Okay, don’t freak out when I do this. I’ve never tried it myself and it may look weird. I’ll hafta adjust how dark it is,” he says as he closes the membrane. The opacity is turned up a bit too high and the room darkens more than he thinks most ponies would like, so he slowly adjusts it until it feels about right. It's still a bit dark indoors, but should be great outdoors during a bright day. “There we go. How do they look?”

“Kind of creepy, to be honest,” Bulwark says.

“Damn, really? Got a mirror? I may be able to adjust them so they look more normal.”

“In the bathroom.”

“Be right back,” Cure calls, opening the membrane and trotting out of the room. It’s not difficult to find the bathroom, though he’s barely tall enough to stand on his hind legs and see in the mirror. With one membrane closed he looks at his reflection with the other eye and he has to agree; the cloudy look is a definite turn-off. He’d previously told his mom that, while the membrane would be useful, pegasi not having one would make it stand out on them.

Rather than abandoning the idea, Cure decreases the opacity then directs his magic to effectively turn the membranes into polarized lenses while also pushing it to block UV light at the same time. Seeing UV hasn’t really been very helpful so far anyhow, so he figures it’s still a net positive overall.

The result looks, more or less, like his normal eye, just darkened a little from the membrane. It’s lost the dull, gray, milky look the first iteration had, though, and when he turns his head to look at it from different angles he determines that the end result is something he’ll be keeping from now on whether Song wants it or not. After a quick pit stop and hoof-wash he happily trots back to the room where the two sergeants were talking about what all they’ll be including in their report.

The conversation is cut off by Song as soon as she detects his smaller hooves clopping their direction, but he heard enough to know that so far they’re pretty excited about the possibilities he represents.

“Okay! How’s this version look? I think it’s good enough I might just keep it for myself to be honest.”

Song approaches to get a better look and, after a moment of scrutiny, gives an accepting nod. Bulwark didn’t bother approaching, so apparently whatever Song decides is good enough for him.

“How about I give you the membrane and you try it out for a day? If you hate it just swing by my house if you don’t wanna wait until I meet up with ya in a couple weeks, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot. How do you open and close it, though?”

“It’s a muscle, it feels just like blinking, sort of, just a different eyelid. I’ll walk you through it. Ready for me to fix up your teeth too?” he asks, holding out a hoof.

She takes his hoof in hers and, after a few seconds, can feel her mouth go numb like he’d told everypony else to expect. The sensation of teeth rearranging, even slightly, is very odd, but with minimal feeling and no pain in the area it isn’t unpleasant and only lasts for a moment. The change in her eye is similar; all feeling just goes away for a second, then comes back with a new addition.

“Okay, so you can feel it, right?” Once she nods he continues, “So this is what it feels like when it closes,” he says, forcing the membrane shut, “then opens” he adds, opening it back again. After a few back-and-forths he lets go of her hoof and has her try. It takes a moment to get it down, but once she does she has to admit, something like this could be a game changer in the bat community.

“Sir, mind if I step outside a second?”

“Of course not, sergeant. Go give ‘em a test flight real fast. The pegasi may benefit from those as well.”

“Yes sir. I’ll be right back,” she calls over her withers as she trots out the room.

“So, while she’s gone do you wanna go over your scan or should we wait?”

“Is there anything you saw that will make me want to close that door?” he asks, motioning to the exit Song left open.

“Nope, if I’d seen anything serious in any of your guards I would have pulled you and them to the side at the gym. You’re getting a little bit of arthritis in your knees, hips, and ankles; nothing you’ll feel for fifteen years or so, but I’m here now, so … ya know?”

“Right, I don’t want to have to chase you down in a couple decades when you’re living in some mansion in Canterlot.”

“HA! I may just be. This way you’ll probably be good until your eighties, at least. Come find me in about forty years and I’ll clear a spot in my schedule for ya, sarge.”

“I appreciate it, son. Go ahead,” he says, holding a hoof out. Cure takes hold and cleans up the sergeant’s joints all over.

It’s only a minute later when Song pokes her head in the door with a big smile. “They worked great, Cure! Would you mind if I sent my bats by your home this evening so you can do them too?”

“Not at all, sergeant. In fact, assuming their spouses or foals are bats as well, have them bring the whole family; same goes for you and yours. I won’t charge for a quality of life thing like that even if it is technically cosmetic work. If they want some kinda markings on their wings that’s a different story, though.”

“Just please let them know about the whole scanning thing before you send ‘em my way. I’d prefer if they knew before they came; full disclosure, ya know?”

“Sure… but markings?”

“Aww you didn’t tell ‘er sarge?” he asks Bulwark, getting a smirk and a shrug back.

“Trust me a little on this, Song. I think I’ll be your new favorite colt. Come here a sec; if you don’t like this I can change it or just put everything back how it is now.”

Hesitantly, she walks fully in the room and stands by the seated pair.

“So, cosmetic changes, right?” he asks, getting a nod back, “Why not wings? You got these big, beautiful wings but they’re all the same, solid color as your mane and tail. I find it kind of interesting that yours is the opposite of pegasi who all have, as far as I can tell, the same color wings as their coats.”

“Yep, that’s normal for us.”

“Huh. Well, just another special thing to differentiate ya, I suppose. So could you do me a favor and open the ladies up? We'll add a splash or two of navy, or something else if you want.”

“Okay…” she hesitantly agrees, opening her wings and sitting down so he can more easily get a look at them.

The spread open bat wings are a sight to see. Even on a cute, fuzzy equine body they still cause a ping in that primal part of Cure’s mind. If it weren’t for decades of association between bat wings and super heroes then he could certainly imagine the silhouette of a bat swooping down towards a pony scaring the bejeezus out of them.

“I have an idea,” he says. “Let’s see if it looks as good in real life as it does in my head,” he says, holding a hoof out. The pattern Cure picks out starts at the middle of her wings with her current wine color with pencil-thin dark silver hexagons outlined, only a centimeter from corner to corner across.

As the pattern flows from the middle of her wings to the areas closer to her back it gradually fades into the navy blue of her coat, continuing the silver hexagons throughout. Towards the front, the outside edge, and the back of the wing the wine color lightens just slightly into more of a magenta color, giving her a slightly lighter hexagon-lined piping along the edges.

A band four hexagons tall, still filled with her coat’s navy color, loops around her chest like a v-neck collar, dipping in the middle and thinning to a single hex wide as it trails down her chest. The pattern is also added between the muscles at the top of her back that power her wings, dipping into a V down her spine with another band going up and disappearing into her mane.

The overall effect is a very techie-looking pattern that Cure’s pretty happy with, and he was able to make the effect temporary thanks to the fine layer of fuzz that coats bat wings.

“Not bad if I do say so myself,” Cure notes. “You’re the one wearin it, though. Thoughts?”

“Woah… that is an interesting pattern.”

“Huh. Looks nice, sergeant,” Bulwark says. “The hexagon thing’s a neat idea, Cure. Where’d you see that done?”

“Other than nature? Nowhere comes to mind. I just thought it would look good in the sarge’s dark colors. You may wanna go look in a mirror, Sgt. Song. I added a kind of a diamond from your wings both up and down your spine a little. Wait, here, look,” he says, turning around and mimicking the pattern on himself and darkening his coat to match hers. “That’s what it looks like, just scaled differently for your body shape compared to mine.”

“It’s very pretty. Thanks, Cure.” Turning to Bulwark she asks, “Did you know he could change colors like that?”

“Yep. He came in last Saturday disguised because a bunch of pegasus mares found out he could do that and were hunting him down. Morons,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, they were a little too excited. I’ve had several stop and ask for an appointment, though, so they’ve been fine since they got that initial stupidity outta their systems.” Shrugging he adds, “I can’t claim total innocence on stupid, hasty decisions myself.”

Focusing back on Song he explains, “All I did was change your hair colors that are there right now, so that’ll only last a few weeks. I could make it permanent, but you’d have to hunt me down if you ever got sick of it, okay?”

“Okay. That’ll give me plenty of time to see if I like it. You said you normally charge for this?”

“You betchya. A temporary pattern like that would be two hundred bits, four if you wanted permanent since I gotta get the follicles and whatnot and it takes a lot more magic. I prefer that ponies bring their own ideas though. Coming up with new designs on the spot will get really difficult soon, I’m sure. I’m afraid I’m just not really that creative normally.”

Addressing both sergeants he says, “If your guards want me to do something like this I’ll throw in one free change and a free change back if they end up not liking it, but I don’t really want to spend each week doing a dozen mane, tail, and coat jobs before we get our lift on. I’ll even give their spouses a half off the first time if they’re interested too. Sound good?”

“Sure, son. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem. If you have some kinda unit standard I can pop that and their rank on their deltoids or something. Whadda ya think, Song, wouldn’t the sarge look like a total hardflank with some black chevrons there on those shoulders? Maybe put that big iron shield from his mark on his left pectoral?”

“HA! That would be pretty neat, sarge.”

Bulwark gives the thought a bit of consideration, but ultimately declines, “I think I’ll pass for now, Cure. I’ll keep the offer in mind, though.”

“Sounds good, sarge. I’m sure you got plenty to get done today, like a certain report on a troublesome colt perhaps, so I’m gonna go collect my pa and get outta yer mane. I’ll look forward to getting that list from Sgt. Haze next week. Speaking of, is it okay if I ask Solar to fill in when my sire’s not available? My parents said they don’t mind him playing escort duty.”

“No, that’s fine. I can only get two civilians on Carol at a time, though, normally.”

“Awesome. Thanks, sir. I’m sure he’ll be excited at the opportunity. Bye Song! Later, sarge!”

“Bye Cure!” she calls back as he trots out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Both sit in silence for a minute; Song playing with her membranes and looking at her wings, Bulwark just sitting in thought.

“That foal scares the shit out of me,” he finally admits.

Blinking a couple times at the random statement, Song gives him a questioning look. “Why? He seems like a sweetheart to me.”

“He is, but look at what all he can do. At age eight, sergeant. Extrapolate that out five or ten years and tell me what you think he’ll be capable of.”

“Well… we know he’s insanely strong for a foal, he’s smarter than most adults I know, he can change colors on a whim…”

“He can simply write out scrolls too. That means that he has very good precision to go with that strength. And he apparently knows at least some magic. I bet with that active ability he has he can charge scrolls and crystals up like a unicorn. He specifically said a long range teleport and a strong shield spell, then added invisibility and stun.”

“That’s more than a lot of unicorns, sir.”

“It is,” he agrees with a nod. “Consider for a moment how dangerous an intelligent pony is that’s my size but twice as strong, knows several spells, can change colors, never gets tired, and of course, can manipulate biology with a touch.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous, sir, but last I checked none of those are crimes. And like I said, the colt’s a sweetheart. He seems to just want everypony to be happy.”

“I’m well aware, sergeant.”

“Yes sir. Is there anything you want us to do for now?”

“No… we can’t exactly spy on him, and we don’t really have a reason to anyhow. I damn sure wouldn’t want him thinking we don’t trust him if he found out somehow. We’ll just do our jobs and hope nopony like Washout provokes the colt again. He called for help last time; I don’t think he would need to if it happens again.”

With the added health check-ups and dental work Cure had done, he and Deed didn’t make it home until nearly an hour later than expected. Vines and Title had everything ready for dinner when the pair walked in the house, so after Deed finished his ritual and Cure re-washed up the family sits down for dinner together.

They’re only a few bites in when Vines asks how everything went.

“Better than I coulda hoped, honestly,” Cure explains. “Everypony was friendly and super eager, especially once I had the unicorn stallion, Private Bolt, do a quick demonstration on the draft pull machine. He matched his max on the first set I had him do after a quick warm-up. I think once they all saw how effective my talent is they were thrilled to be there.”

“Ya got that right, sport. Rush was almost dancin between sets every time you walked away. She has a couple brothers she says she’s lookin forward ta roughin up a bit around Hearth’s Warmin.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetie. Maybe you can do something like that for other ponies once you’re done working with the guard.”

“Or if the volume of cosmetic customers ever settles down. I’m not seeing that, though… You’re booked up for the next three weeks as it is.”

“Yeah, thanks for taking care of that, mom. We’ll have to get an actual accountant at some point to do all the bookkeeping. Is the one you and dad use expensive?”

“Yer damn right she is, son,” Deed laments, careful not to look at his wife. “Charges me a fortune, then eats me outta house ‘n home every evenin! I tell ya, I need ta start shoppin around!” he finishes, getting a scowl from the pink mare.

“Oh… I didn’t know mom did the bookkeeping too. Well I’ll need some help finding somepony if you could. I don’t know how taxes work in this world at all.”

“It’s pretty simple, Cure. You record everything on a ledger and submit a form to the tax office each quarter. There’s a whole wing of one of the floors in town hall just for it. They take your form, do their thing, and give you a bill that you pay when you bring your next quarter’s statements in. You’re always giving the quarter before last’s records and paying the quarter before that’s bill.”

“So… we’re in fourth quarter 908. My records are due at the end of first quarter 909 and I’ll pay my taxes for today's quarter when I take them 909 Quarter 1’s stuff at or before the end of June?”

“Yep. If you’re late they start tacking on fees and whatnot, so always get your form and payment to them a few days early if you can. If you have a business that’s losing money, like maybe you just opened it up, or if your income drops a lot after a few quarters they keep a tally of that and do some math wizardry to credit you back once you start turning a profit. It seems pretty fair to me.”

“Is the tax rate high? Like… what's your guys’ effective rate?”

“For us it’s about eighteen percent. I think you’ll be higher since you’re single, have no foals, and are going to probably make pretty good bits. Of course, being a minor may change things a lot. We probably should make an appointment to see them soon so we don’t get some huge unexpected bill later on.”

“Definitely. I dunno how it is here, but on Earth failing to pay taxes is just about the most likely thing that’ll land someone in hot water. You remember how I talked about the mobsters and mafia guys when I was worried about meeting Grandpa Brick?”

He continues after getting nods, “Hiding their income is what ultimately landed them in jail. Murder, racketeering, all that other crap? They got away with it, mostly. Not paying taxes on their illegal income? That’s what got them arrested. If they’d just put the income on their tax return and paid the taxes they would have been fine, at least for a while. Tax returns are confidential, so they couldn’t even use that against them if they’d paid up.”

“I don’t think you can do that here, honey. Not that you’d ever have a reason to be paid for illegal activities anyhow.”

“Umm… actually, I’m kinda worried how I should be listing the ponies Grandpa is sending out here. I’m inclined to include them in my cosmetic work business and just pay the taxes, even on the 750 bits I’m not seeing yet.”

“That’s not a bad idea, sport. That way if they ask you can play innocent. After all, ya got no reason ta assume everything’s not on the up-and-up anyhow.”

“Huh… you may be using the 250 they are giving you to pay taxes then. Wow, that sucks.”

“Ah fudge… I hadn’t even thought of that. Ugh, taxes suck everywhere. We don’t pay separate city taxes on top of that, do we?”

“No, Cure. It’s all lumped together. I’m guessing that’s how it works on Earth?”

“Yep. Not only for the city you live in, but also the city your job is located in. Then there’s state taxes, federal taxes, sales tax, and sometimes special local taxes depending on school districts and whatnot. Each year the previous year’s stuff is all due on April 15th, so you have a few months to get it all together and figure out how much you owe. Or, if your employer sets aside too much of your paycheck, you normally get that overpayment back.”

“Yep, that sounds way worse. Well we can certainly look for a bookkeeper for you, but I think I can take care of it pretty easily. Your income will be a lot more frequent than ours, but since you only have a few business expenses, like the 300 hundred bits of “rent” you’re paying Lemon, it’ll only take me a few minutes a day. I can just gather the waiver, agreement, receipt, whatever you wanna call them forms you have everypony fill out and add them up on the weekend.”

“True. Maybe you can show me how it all works tomorrow. If it’s that simple there’s no reason I can’t do it myself. I can do the ledger on my Spell Scanner sheet and, if I ever have to reproduce it for an audit, always have it immediately on hoof. Next we’ll need to figure out what to do with the money I’m making; leaving it to just sit in the bank is a terrible idea.”

“What’s wrong with banks, sweetie?”

“Nothing’s wrong with banks. It’s just that the money sits there and does nothing. I’d rather give a few thousand to pa once he takes those classes so we can see if he can make money. I was also thinking maybe mom, dad, and Amy can start identifying undervalued properties in Baltimare that I can buy and fix up, then either rent or resell. You get rich by making money work for you way easier than you can from working to make money.”

“Good thinkin, son. Amy’s talent could make her a fortune. Nothin wrong with wantin ta raise yer foals, but I’ve always thought she could be doin a lot more, at least when they reach school age.”

“As long as you’re not working too much, sweetie. I don’t want you overdoing it.”

“I was thinking this could be more for the three of them than me. I’ll just finance it. We’ll need to find some good, reliable workers to do the renovations and maybe somepony with design talent to make it look nice. It was a good money maker on Earth and I don’t know of anypony doing it here, so the potential definitely exists in theory.”

“It sounds like something we could explore in the spring, honey. That’ll give you time to save up as well.”

“Sounds good, ma. Thanks for havin dinner ready for us, by the way. I ran us a bit late, but I think it’ll be worth it in the long run.”

“Ya were in there a while, champ. Everything go alright?”

“Yep, we should expect some company this evening. We’ll probably have a lot of bats dropping by. Mom, you remember back a few weeks ago when I had talked about adding nictitating membranes to eyes?”

“Ehh… I remember you briefly mentioned the possibility.”

“Bulwark’s night guard lead went with us today. She’s a dark blue batmare named Shadow Song. Dark wine colored mane, tail, and wings. Has a pair of crossed blades of some kind as a mark. Ring any bells?”

“Mmm… I don’t think so, but if I’ve ever seen her out it woulda been dark and she probably would have been in armor… and in the air. I rarely see bat ponies, even at night because they’re dark and hard to spot… and quiet.”

“True. Anyhow, I asked if bats have a hard time with daylight. She said they do, so I gave the whole nictitating membrane thing a shot, have a look,” he says, leaning closer and closing the eyelid.

“Huh… it looked a tad creepy when you closed it, but once ya have it shut you can barely tell it’s there at all.”

“Yep, it helps a lot with glare and whatnot. I kept them closed on the way home and it’s really useful when it’s bright out. Anyhow, I gave a set to the sergeant… uhh, Sgt. Song, I mean… and told her to send any bats that are interested over and I’d do it for free. I see it as a “quality of life” thing more than a cosmetic job. I also gave her a really neat hexagon pattern on her chest, back, and wings, so that ought to be some free advertising for me in the bat community.”

“Neat. Good thinkin, Cure. I’m sure they’ll appreciate havin an easier time goin out during the day. Did you learn anything new when you scanned her?”

“Nah, as best I can tell they got the exact same setup as pegasi. Their ears are as good as I expected though. Not quite at real bat levels, but their eyes are almost as good as a pegasus, so that more than makes up for it. They should be good enough to echolocate though, but our hearing is a lot better if you turn it up. In fact, I heard her snickering when I was making jokes with the pegasus I took care of before her. She’d been listening in on us the whole time.”

Vines wrinkles her snout at the idea of her eavesdropping on a medical conversation. “That seems a little rude…”

“It’s a safety thing, babe. The colt explained it on the way home. Gotta have a command officer outside the room in case somethin happens inside of it, at least that’s the idea we came up with.”

“Yep. They’ll probably ease back once Bulwark turns in his final report on me. He’s putting together some kind of dossier for the captain over the Baltimare region. That’s probably why I haven’t heard from anypony higher up; they’re still in the “initial analysis” phase for now. Once I show I’m trustworthy enough then I’ll probably start hearing from the big-wigs. I’m betting this whole gym thing is a real eye-opener for them.”

“Any idea what goes into stuff like that?”

“I would assume it’s like a psych profile and a threat assessment all at once. They must not consider me dangerous or they’d never let me work on the guards, though. I’m showing them enough to be impressed and, maybe, a little wary, but as long as I stay the friendly, helpful colt then it should only ever help if anything."

"I’m doing what I can to pass their trust test. I'm showing them a lot of my capabilities, but also doing it in a way that makes it clear I'm a staunch ally, which I absolutely am. Ideally, even if they're a little worried at what I can do they'll have no choice but acknowledge that I'm going out of my way to be helpful. That should have some good long-term payoffs if anypony ever gives me a hard time.”

“You haven’t given them any reason not to trust you, sweetie. I’m sure the sergeant’s report will be very positive. I wonder if the other guards around Baltimare would be interested in working with you.”

“Yer dam’s got a good point. I bet once they see Bulwark’s team kickin plot they’ll all come askin fer ya. Maybe you can even offer “Guard Approved" exercises ta other ponies too. I bet a few at that gym we visited would hire ya.”

“Yeah. True. It could be another service I offer through the cosmetic business, but thanks to Drift and pegasi being so mobile I don’t think I’ll be hurting for customers for a long time. I have… what'd you say? The next three weeks booked out?”

“That’s right,” Title agrees. “And that’s as far out as we’re scheduling. I’ve had to argue with a few that insisted they should go in front of others or that you should make extra time to see them, but I keep tellin ‘em you’re only eight and run out of magic, so most back off when they’re reminded.”

“If any get too bossy just make note of their mark and tell them they can go somewhere else. Or, charge them a 10-20% “premium” if you want and consider that your bonus for dealing with them. If I need to hire a scheduling assistant just say the word, mom. I definitely don’t want to stress you out, especially when you’re due soon.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that. A few bossy mares won’t upset me. Trust me, I can deal with them. Now don’t forget, you have two appointments scheduled in a little bit too. I figure we can head to Lemon’s once you’re done eating and maybe pick up some treats while we're there.”

“Sounds good, mom. Thanks for coming with me for it.”

“I don’t think yer ma’s too upset about goin ta see Lemon at the shop, son,” Deed teases, smiling back at the weak scowl from the pink mare.

Cure opts not to poke at his mom, given she's playing escort for him tonight. The family falls into silence for the few minutes it takes to finish their meal.

Title leaves the table to get ready; Cure takes her and his setting to the sink, then gives his dam a loving nuzzle before doing the same to his sire. "Thanks for going with me, pa. I know you don't mind but I appreciate ya giving up some of your weekend for this. Are you going to the bar tonight?"

"Ain't no big thing," he says, wrapping a foreleg around Cure and smushin him in his side. "Sure am, sport. Just gotta shower 'n dry off before headin out. Say hey to Lemon for me and yer dam."

Breaking away as his mom comes back down the stairs, Cure gives a nod and a "Sure thing" before asking if Title is ready to head out.

"Yep. You ready?" she asks.

"You bet. Let's go knock these out quick," he says, nuzzling a cheek into her chest. "It’s not very cold yet, but I'm feeling a little clingy all of a sudden. How ‘bout we grab a box of cocoa mix at Lemon's then me, you, and dam climb under a warm blanket and have some hot chocolate and a bit of quality snuggle time when we get home?"

Title leans down and plants a kiss between his ears. "That sounds wonderful, honey. Vines, babe, we'll be back in an hour or so, okay?"

"Sounds good, dear," Vines agrees. As the pair trot out the door she yells, "I'll have everything ready for when you get back!"

"Damn… that does sound pretty nice," Deed mumbles after they've left. Thinking for a moment, he comes to a decision. "Ya know what? Imma go get some marshmallows and some fresh milk at the store and join ya. The bar'll be there next week. Wanna come, babe? We can wash up together when we get back if we hurry," he finishes, waggling his brows.

Vines eagerly nods, setting aside the dishes to clean later. With a loving kiss, she nuzzles into her stallion's cheek and under his chin, then happily trots out the door, excited for a cozy evening home, snuggled together with everypony that means the world to her.