Midnight

I am pleased to see the number of orders that have continued to roll in via email notifications throughout the day. It means my initial idea to make a proper ordering form on John's website was a strong one. However, that means success may have been well within his grasp this whole time, had he put an effort forth...

Oh well, his loss. Maybe I could make a case for taking over the business.

...though I don't know what that would gain me, other than bragging rights. But that doesn't sound too bad.

Regardless of future conquests, the slowly building log of emails has kept me trotting back and forth around the shop when the items are something housed in the storeroom or coincidentally right outside the shop. There's a fair amount to be done out back this afternoon, too; I probably won't be able to get it all done today by myself. Not a big deal, but I would like to see how much I can get done on my own.

So, while there's been virtually no activity in terms of walk-in customers, it stands to reason it is a result of the shift toward stripping this place of the self-serve moniker if the influx of parts requests is any indication.

And fewer people out in the yard means less lost revenue from stolen parts and pieces.

I spotted and overheard people taking items that they had no intention of paying for when I still lived out back in the van. More than once, I caught wind of some braggart boasting of their multiple trips to swindle parts from the owner. While that did not have any particular impact on me at the time, it's proven one thing that I continue to take pride in. Keeping my head on a swivel, hiding in the shadows – there's a lot that can be observed living like that. Even if it can be a bit taxing.

While it was a necessity to learn at the time, maybe I should keep up on my skills of skulking around unnoticed which I honed for months. Fate has a way of throwing twists and turns in the path ahead. Can't be too safe.

Putting ideas of sharpening my survival tactics aside, I cannot deny the lack of in-person customers has left me mildly disappointed.

Well, it is a mixture of disappointment and a bit of relief. After all, I have not really interacted with anyone aside from John. So there is some uncertainty surrounding that scenario. My social skills might be a bit lacking...

But fuck it, I can wing it. Adapt and survive.

The phone calls I have received today went well enough, so it isn't like I'm completely blind. The only hiccup on that front was when I mentioned my name almost every time.

'Erm... Midnight? That's an odd name...'

Mentioning my mother had a degree in gender studies or something like that rectified the situation fairly quickly. Thank the stars for John's laptop. Aside from more automotive knowledge, I have spent a fair amount of time learning and exploring the outside world via the internet, just to have a better mental picture.

Ah, the perks of living on an abbreviated sleep schedule. There's only so much one can overhear that allows him or her to paint a picture of what lies beyond the miles of fence.

The facility certainly didn't offer any information. I never even got to see the sun.

During the last phone call or two, I decided to use another name, just to avoid the hesitations and awkward questioning that I felt was rather insulting.

Maddie. It's short and has similarities to Midnight, so it doesn't feel completely foreign...

But god, I hope John didn't hear that. I know he would have fun with it for who knows what reason. With any luck, he's been asleep the whole time; I checked on him once, and he was slumbering in bed.

... the pungent odor that greeted me upon opening the door to the upstairs told me whatever contents that were ailing his stomach made an evacuation back up at some point into the kitchen sink drain.

Ew. Hopefully that helps, though.

If he's going to be that stupid and stubborn, I plan to start going through the fridge and throwing leftovers away. I don't care if he sees it as "throwing money away," he's just throwing it up right now.

With the prevailing silence, I've been tapping away through various internet searches on the computer for some time now. Only because I'm currently caught up on orders - not because I want to slack off.

The sound of footsteps outside amidst the dust and gravel reaches my ears now. My vision quickly darts to the open garage bay door, just a few seconds before a man comes around the corner.

...he seems vaguely familiar.

Sporting graying hair and mustache, the lanky older gentleman waves as he approaches, apparently unfazed by my appearance.

"Hi – Nightmare Moon?" he asks with a warm smile and a slight foreign drawl to his words.

I tense up upon hearing that name again. I'm not wearing a nametag – and I'm not Nightmare Moon.

"Hello, can I help you with something?" I ask, feigning obliviousness to anything other than his initial greeting.

"Yeah, looking for some more parts. I don't have the time to pull them myself today, so I was wondering if I could just request em for pickup later?"

"We can do that – what are you looking for?"

While I bring up the inventory catalog on the computer screen, I continue to keep a watchful eye on the guest. Maybe I am being paranoid, but he seems too comfortable...

"Where's your buddy at? I'm surprised to see you attending the counter," he comments, attempting to make idle chat as he scans the building.

"He's around. Stepped out for a bit. What was it you needed?"

"Sorry. Uh... well, I need a radiator fan shroud, first of all. A heater box if you got one in decent shape."

"For what kind of car?" My voice comes out a little rough, but I can't help it as my heart rate speeds up. He at least knows the basis for my appearance, and he's trying to chat nonchalantly, pretending this is somehow a completely normal situation.

...which is probably better than freaking out about seeing me.

Alright, yeah. I need to chill out.

"Oh, duh. I'd forget my head if it could unscrew," he replies with a chuckle, slapping his forehead. "1972 Olds Cutlass."

That particular car jumpstarts my memory. John helped this guy a few weeks ago, while I was in the midst of tearing down an Oldsmobile engine by coincidence. I had decided to speak up for the first time to a customer, in case the stars had aligned and he needed some of the parts I had been disassembling.

...and then Jonn referred to me as a guard dog.

I have yet to pay him back for that – even if it was a spur-of-the-moment attempt to cover for me.

That fucker.

Regardless of past unavenged transgressions, I breathe a small sigh of relief after connecting the dots; this man has seen me before. Here, and not that long ago.

"Alright. John hasn't done a very good job keeping everything tidy on this computer, so just give me a second," I explain.

Before going any further, I want to check the digital inventory to see if that shroud is stashed away inside the warehouse...

And it is not. No big deal – just figured it was worth a gander to make a few bucks today.

With that quick search settled, I bring up a document form to jot down everything that he needs, followed by the year and model.

"Name for this?"

"Theodore. But everyone just calls me Teddy," he says, leaning on the counter. "I take it you don't go by Nightmare Moon? I suppose you are a bit different."

I peer over at him after typing down the name. I can't help but remain a bit wary.

Why is he inspecting me? Does he really need to know my name?

Teddy seems nice enough...

Many different thoughts go through my head concerning safety, now that I'm interacting with a stranger face to face. Of course, I did give my name earlier today taking that delivery, but John was down here...

...and what, I can't protect myself? Am I going to rely on him to keep me safe and warm? Have him brush me and tuck me in at night?

I need to grow a fucking spine.

"Midnight," I tell him. It garners a nod of acknowledgment.

"That's a nice name," Teddy compliments, leaning in just a bit. "You aren't a custom model though, are you?"

The hushed question makes my blood run cold. "What would make you say that?"

"I don't mean anything by it," he says in an attempt to reassure me. "I've just seen my fair share of pony bots. You're... different."

He says it so calmly as if discussing the weather. But his conviction is solid.

"Is there a point to this? I have other things to do," I reply sharply, suddenly quite eager to be rid of this man and this abrupt shift in conversation.

My unwanted acquaintance just chuckles. "You've got spirit, and that's something that can't be created. Look, I'm not here to harass you or out you. I assume you aren't... well, verified."

"So you aren't really here for car parts? Just a return visit to gawk at me?" I challenge.

Teddy stands up straight once again. "I do actually need those parts. I'm mostly retired, so I figured a project car would be an interesting undertaking," he replies, unaffected by my cold tone. "I don't want to go into too much detail as I'm clearly getting off on the wrong foot, but I do want to say that you aren't the only one of your kind – though you're more advanced than any other I've encountered. Where did you come from?"

"The backseat of a first-gen Dodge Caravan. Turbocharged, no less," I hiss, making sure to bare my weaponized dental work for him to see.

It does not appear to affect Theodore at all, as he remains unflinching.

I don't trust this guy for a second. He's asking a lot of questions for someone allegedly here for vintage car parts. Even John was scared shitless by my appearance and threats upon first meeting.

Not this guy. If anything, this Theodore, or Teddy fellow – if that's what his name even is – finds me fascinating. He was hardly rattled upon our brief initial meeting, come to think of it. I was distracted at the time and paid no mind. But now, that seems fishy...

Nothing about this encounter feels right at all. Do I know him from even further back? My memory is hazy or nonexistent for many moments in time from the time before the junkyard, for better or worse. And I stopped paying attention to the people dealing with me after a while; I knew they didn't care, why should I?

Other thoughts start crossing my mind as I fight to hold my ground and keep a level head.

After all, I could make this a non-issue with any sort of sharp metallic piece of scrap... He wouldn't see it coming aside from the slight glow of my eyes.

Or if need be, I could go for his windpipe. It would be nothing for my canines and incisors to pierce his throat...

No. Nothing good will come of that in the long-term picture. Someone will come looking for him, no matter how well I hide my tracks.

Murder is perhaps the most idiotic thing I could do here. I wrest those unsavory ideas away from the forefront of my mind.

"I suppose I deserve your skepticism, Midnight, I'm sorry for upsetting you," Teddy apologizes. "I'll be back in a few days to get those parts. You probably want my phone number, don't you? For the order?"

"For the order," I repeat.

He rattles off a series of numbers, which I seamlessly transfer to the keyboard.

"Hopefully next time, your buddy - John, yeah? The business owner?"

I slowly nod, keeping my wits about me in case he tries something funny. The fact that John's name is mentioned only tenses me up further.

I'm not looking to kill him anymore – but I will if need be. Any threat to John is a threat to me, as far as I'm concerned. Because I need him alive.

I don't like hearing his name suddenly brought into this.

"Hopefully he's around as well as you when I return. Assuming he's a nice fellow. Does he treat you well?"

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

That gets a cheeky grin from Teddy as he lightly slaps the counter. "Anyway, I might be able to help you and John. Or just you, if this place and he aren't to your liking. You have my number, and I'll be back in a few days otherwise."

With a wave, he heads back out into the sun of the afternoon.

I give him several seconds before I drop to all fours on the floor, making myself low to the concrete. Silently, I sneak toward the open garage door from which Teddy just departed.

It's all muscle memory here. Every step, every movement is calculated and purposeful. Just like months ago, when keeping hidden and bolting from individuals passing by my van. Or when on the hunt for vermin.

I might be doing just that right now.

Reaching the doorframe, I pause to listen intently for any sounds indicating something or someone that may lie on the other side.

I catch the relatively distant sound of a car door opening, followed shortly thereafter by the slight creak of springs yielding to a new weight before the door slams shut.

Even with the characteristic sounds of the mysterious man getting into his vehicle, I take care in poking my head out from beyond the doorframe. I'm only going far enough to catch a glimpse of what can be seen of the parking area from here.

Beyond the privacy fence, I hear an engine start up, proceeding shortly thereafter with visuals of a weathered Chevy pickup ambling away from the open front gate and out to the road.

I manage to glimpse the graying hair in the windows. It gives me some semblance of assurance the coast is clear, and the strange man is leaving.

Despite that, I still take the time to watch the truck leave, until it's out of sight and earshot.

I honestly don't know what to make of the encounter, especially after his farewell address. What could he possibly help with - whether it be me and John, or me alone?

More unsettling is the fact that he made me out for something far beyond a traditional ponybot. Am I that obvious from just a glance? Visually, it shouldn't be a difference, perhaps the mannerisms a bit, but...

He certainly knows more than just 'having been around a fair share.' That's a lie if I've ever heard one. But I don't know how far that lie stretches.

But what about his other comment? Are there really others? I can vaguely recall others like me... but there's no way they could make it on their own. But there's a lot I can't remember, either.

The thoughts surrounding this whole encounter and the ensuing conversation are troubling. I dismissed John's concerns about my well-being earlier today. Suddenly I'm not feeling so sure of myself.

There's no more excitement or anticipation in dealing with customers. Seeing as how I've only had two, there's good reason to close up for the day...

I have enough to do outside picking parts anyway. Time to call it an afternoon. Time to try getting my mind focused on something other than...

Something other than whoever that was. Whatever that whole interaction was. What it means, and what his intentions really are.

Worst of all, I think I have to go this alone. Telling John about this is going to bring about more questions. I can't afford that - not now, not with how far I've come and how well things have been going.

Revulsion is about the only thing the real me can bring about.