Midnight

It feels strange not riding shotgun with John in the Trailduster right now as we bounce our way into the salvage yard. I gave up my seat for Starla, leaving me to sit slightly behind and between them amongst the tools, loose bolts, and parts rattling around in the back. It's not too bad – and I'm not afraid of a little extra dirt and grime to remove via shower this evening.

Starla finished off her look she started with a straw hat by adding a pair of thick-rimmed sunglasses, ready for a day of unimpeded sunlight. By chance, she happens to turn and face me while I'm studying those shades from behind. "So do you two always split up and work on your own specific lists?" she asks, giving John a glance in order to make it clear this is a question for both of us.

"It's the only way we can get orders completed without spending ten to twelve hours a day out here," I chime in first.

"We aren't always split up," John adds. "Even when we do go our own way, Midnight and I are almost always still within earshot of each other."

"Fortunate for you, isn't it?" I suggest, alluding to the coyote incident where I had to save his ass.

He chuckles without missing a beat. "Lucky for you too – sometimes you need input from me and my years of experience," he shoots back with a teasing bite in his voice.

"Maybe I just like throwing you a bone, making you feel important from time to time. Very rarely do I ever actually get stuck on something."

"Of course," he laughs back, reaching blindly to give me a very awkward pat on what ends up being my front left leg.

"How did you get so good at working on cars?" Starla continues, her voice cracking a bit as the truck jolts through a rough patch.

"Is that a question for me, or him?"

"Oh, sorry— I meant John," she corrects herself, turning back to flash me a smile. "I already know how you ended up with your knowledge of cars."

"Actually, my story is kinda in the same vein as Midnight's," he replies.

I'm... not particularly certain how John came up with that response. It doesn't make sense to me on the surface.

"You lived out here in the junkyard too?" Starla spouts, recoiling in shock at the idea.

"Yeah, you got me a bit confused on this too," I butt in with my own skepticism. "I already know your story – and I don't feel like there's many parallels between me and you."

"Alright, so maybe... yeah, I guess it's kind of a crappy comparison," he agrees with reluctance. "Me personally, I grew up around old cars, helped when I could when someone was wrenching on something – that's how I learned. That's where I was drawing my comparison."

"Eh... it makes a bit more sense now. But I still feel like you stretched it a bit."

"I don't know..." Starla trails off, pondering the comparison. "Yeah, John would have been young, and you were an adult by the time you got out here – but it was sort of like a rebirth in a way, wasn't it? Having to adapt to a whole new world?"

"Yeah, I guess. But it shouldn't require a detailed explanation and dissection for it to be a seamless fit."

I have to admit, I'm a bit awestruck by Starla's thought process. I've certainly changed my way of thinking over the past few months, but I find it hard to believe I figured she was stupid since she didn't have the computer bits stuck in her head as I did. Maybe I was a bit too harsh and judgmental on what little I remember of the bio ponies at the lab I came from, too.

"I didn't mean for this to turn into a philosophical debate," John wisecracks.

"On a more relevant matter, who did you want to follow around this morning, Star?" I propose to her.

At once, Starla shifts in her seat, whirling around to face me properly. "I... wasn't aware I had a choice," Starla sputters, allowing her eyes to dart toward John for confirmation.

John looks in the rearview mirror back at me, his eyes widened with the unexpected twist. "I'm about as shocked as you are, Starla," he admits. "Midnight?"

"I figured it's not fair to say she has to stick with me – not fair to either of you," I reason. "I didn't mean to cause confusion."

"Aww, that's nice of you to ask – but I'm gonna stick with you for the time being, Mid," Starla responds, pivoting to face John again. "Sorry."

"Hey, no need to feel bad – again, I was surprised this was even up for debate," he assures her. "But good timing – we're at our first stop."

Well, not quite. John wheels the Trailduster off the main path and onto a more narrow lane, following it for another minute or two. On either side, full-size Ford and Mercury products pass by, starting with some late seventies models.

"Alright, I didn't check the list at all because today was your day of dividing up part requests," I remind John. "What are we looking for – what are Starla and I setting off for this morning?"

"Well, I'm set on trying to find and figuring out how to remove a grille from a Mercury Marauder first thing this morning," he replies, bringing the truck to a halt and switching off the ignition. "For you two – a few script emblems for a '66 LTD, and maybe some taillights. That's only if you can find a set that isn't cracked or hazed to hell and back."

"That's gonna be a tall ask."

"Yeah, I'm well aware – hence why I said maybe some taillights," he reiterates, popping open his door. "The customer only wants them if they are in really good shape – not even a discount if they need some minor TLC."

"Fair enough – I'll do my best."

"We all got our marching orders – let's see what we can get accomplished." It's a typical corny line from John that makes me want to chastise him, but I let it go – this time.

From the backseat, I feel for the door handle on the passenger side and pop it open for Starla – which makes her jump just a bit before realizing it's merely my ability at work to aid her egress. She jumps out – while I head toward the back of the truck.

No sense in finagling around the seat and climbing out that way, as I have to get my toolbag. John happens to reach the back around the same time I do, pulling open the tailgate and lift gate as I seize my personal set of tools and hop out onto the desert sand.

John isn't surprised by my idea, but the *thunk* of the passenger door closing just now is evidence Starla didn't recognize what I was up to. She trots up to the rear as I'm about to turn the corner and apologize for my lack of communication before her eyes light up with glee.

"You have your own set of tools? That's sooo cute!" she exclaims, ogling over my bag and my embroidered name.

I pull the bag away from her just a bit, grimacing at the comment. "Cute wouldn't be the word I'd use," I muse.

"I know, I know," she sighs, smiling as she rolls her eyes. "It's... neat! Will that work?"

I nod, relaxing my stance with the agreed term.

"And it's cute, too." Of course, John has to open his mouth on the situation, causing Starla to giggle madly in amusement as I turn and glare at him. And of course, he just has to flash me the cheekiest grin he can muster on short notice.

"You know if you keep using that term, it's gonna lose the effectiveness to irk me?"

"That's the plan. Then I can use it as much as I want!" he cheers.

Rather than combat him, I sigh and turn away. "Come on Starla, this way," I direct, trotting along the side of the truck and beyond the front, off toward older models.

Starla picks up the pace to be beside me – though her head is spinning in all directions as she takes in the sights. "Holy moly, there's so many cars out here," she gasps after a short spell. "Yeah, the fenced area looks large from the road, but not anything like... well, where we are now."

"Yeah, and we drove past a lot of cars, too – we're halfway to the back of the yard if I had to guess," I elaborate for her. "But we were talking most of the way here – it didn't seem like that long of a journey."

"So what is it we're looking for? I know John said emblems and taillights, but I didn't catch the name of the car..."

"A Ford LTD. It's basically an upscale Ford Galaxie with luxury options," I explain in brief terms, keeping my eyes focused on the cars to discern how far we have to travel. "There's not much difference between them aside from trim, so the details are important."

"I... don't know if I've ever seen either model of car," she replies, a bit forlorn at her inability to help.

I stray from my path to playfully bump Starla out of that hiccup. "Luckily, you're in good company because I know what we're looking for. We're actually surrounded by mostly Galaxies right now – just not the right year."

The revelation causes Starla to stand tall once again and scan the automobiles parked all around us with wide eyes. But it doesn't take long before her ears dip with insecurity, eyeing me warily. "But a lot of these look different just based on the front end. These are all the same model of car?"

"Yeah – they look different because there are different generations of car – usually anywhere from three to five years, then the bodywork would get a major redesign. But even within those generations, there were running changes both mechanical and visual to try to keep the products looking new and fresh for customers. The particular generation of LTD we're looking for is the first generation – but it was... I think the third generation of Galaxie? I can't remember offhand."

"So how do— well, how does John have the yard organized? Or is there no organization?"

"I give John a lot of shit, but he did a decent job of keeping things organized before I came along in terms of sorting out where to put cars," I admit. "Some areas are better off than others – this is a good area. These cars with hidden headlights are newer models than what we're looking for, so we gotta keep going, which will take us to earlier cars."

"I was wondering why some of these cars looked like they were missing spots for headlights – or looked like they were winking at me," she giggles.

"Yeah, common result when the headlight door mechanisms start to fail – either both are always open, or you get one left peeped open. Usually, they were set to be open when it failed, as a lot of times, they were closed by vacuum."

We trek for a bit longer before familiar front ends start to appear with stacked quad headlights. Even though it's a sign we're getting close, it means I need to pay even closer attention to the details. Some cars have the window marked with the year, but between dust and the sun, it's hard to discern more often than not. One big indicator that does catch my eye is a padded vinyl roof – which is present on a drab green four-door just off to our left ahead.

"Right here, Starla," I call out as I venture off and set my toolbag on the front fender. Strutting off toward the rear doors and adjacent C-pillar, I find the passenger side emblem intact and circle around to the other side – and another good emblem.

"Is there anything you need me to do to help?" Starla hollers from the front of the car, excitement and enthusiasm already apparent in her voice. I head back up to the front to find her trotting in place, hardly able to keep still with the possibility of helping me out with this job.

It sucks that I have to shoot her down. "Nah, there's not much to do to get the emblems off," I reply reluctantly, feeling even worse as her burst of energy is sucked away. "I have to pry these off – takes a bit of finesse to not break the pins, but that's all there is to them."

As I start to levitate my toolbag off of the fender and head back to my work area, Starla seizes it out of midair with her teeth. "Let me at least carry it for you!"

"I... okay," I stammer, taken aback by her unrelenting eagerness to chip in. She waltzes past me and to the back doors, dropping my toolbag onto the trunk lid with a clink of tools as they shift inside.

"What do you need out of here?" she continues to press, ogling the bag for a moment before spying the zipper. "Ah, I have a hard time with zippers, Mid."

"You're fine, Star," I laugh, more out of disbelief than amusement. "I know there's gonna be stuff you'll be able to help me with – this is just the first job today."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

I fish through my bag for the orange plastic prying tool made specifically for this kind of job and set to work. Meanwhile, Starla meanders away to the back of the car. "Well, it looks like we have one good taillight available on this car," she comments. "At least, I think it's good."

"I'll take a look once I get this badge off," I drone, keeping my focus on this delicate act of prying. Moving the tool around the edges and applying pressure, the barrel clips holding the pins start to release their hold with an audible groan. Before long, I've already got one LTD script levitating its way into the front pouch of my bag.

I join Starla at the rear of the car to see if the search for taillights is over. First impression makes me realize why there's one good taillight – the passenger side housing is a black void leading into the trunk. However, the driver's side looks like a mint piece, aside from the dust; I'll have to take a closer look to be sure, but one thing at a time.

"Good scouting, Star – hopefully we can find a match for it somewhere along the line."

"How about I do that while you get the other emblem off of this car?"

Starla's suggestion causes me to freeze in place just as I start walking toward the driver's side of the car. While it sounds like a reasonable idea on the surface... well, there's a lot that could go wrong with Starla wandering out on her own. If getting lost isn't at the top of that list, the incident with John and the coyote is there solely due to it still being fairly fresh in my memory.

"Do you really think that little of me?" Starla asks, making me realize I've been silent for some time now.

"No, it isn't that I don't think you can handle yourself – I'm sure you can," I sigh, trying to figure out the best way to walk this tightrope. "I'm concerned about what I don't know of that may be lurking out here. John already found a nasty surprise that fortunately didn't eat him alive. I don't really want to relive that so soon, even if it's an amusing little tale in hindsight."

"But you two haven't changed the way you work despite that, have you?" she counters. She cocks her head and finishes with a thin smile that only serves to confound me further with how bizarre this minor debate has become.

"No – no, we haven't," I admit. "I guess I'm just nervous because of that and because you aren't familiar with our junkyard."

"I won't go far, and I'll stay behind this row looking at the taillights of these cars for a match," she suggests, motioning further down the line with a hoof. "Maybe ten, fifteen cars?"

Well, that should still be well within visual and earshot. Is there really anything to argue with that plan without making myself look like an overprotective ass?

"Alright. Just holler if you need me – I shouldn't be long with as well as the first piece went."

Starla praces in place for a moment, stopping to salute me in understanding before trotting off down the line, a big, excited grin having returned to her muzzle.

I hope I don't regret this. My stomach is already turning a bit as I get to work on the driver's side LTD emblem. I take a few deep breaths to relax before beginning to gingerly pry up on this badge. Am I being too uptight? I don't really think so – but now I understand why John was hung up on having Starla stay with us. She's an adult, but it's still our responsibility to make sure nothing happens while she spends time here. Even aside from that – I don't want anything happening to my friend, full-stop.

"Midnight!"

*POP*

I snap a mounting post on the emblem as Starla's shout jolts me to attention. That's the least of my concerns – in an instant, my wings are open and I hurl myself into the air, punishing organic and mechanical bits alike to get aloft and at altitude as quickly as possible for a bird's eye view. I don't know if that call was made under duress or if—

"Hey!"

I look down upon hearing another shout. Almost directly below, Starla sits on her haunches and waves her hooves to garner my attention. At most, she's five cars down from where I was working just moments ago.

Oh god – why didn't I look around first? This is embarrassing.

Fighting the urge to streak away, I circle around in a tight spiral as I bleed altitude, flaring out and coming to a halt on the ground just a few feet away from Starla, who looks on in wonder. "Wow, you really can fly!" she gasps, rushing over to me and marveling at my wings. "Midnight, that was sooo cool!"

"Yeah... I— uh, what's up? What did you need?" I manage to finally sputter out, tucking my wings away quickly in the hopes of forgetting my freakout.

"I didn't actually need anything, I just— oh dear," she suddenly blurts, averting her gaze in embarrassment. "You told me to holler if I needed help, and I sorta did that, didn't I?"

"Kinda. I might have gotten a little spun up and panicky when I heard you call my name," I confess. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry – I at least know you're willing to jump into action at any moment," she says with a chuckle. "Anyway, I found some more taillights – these look pretty good, don't they?"

My attention shifts to the red sedan in front of us for a quick gander. Sure enough, this car has both taillights still available, and at the very least, fully intact with no cracks. A quick cleaning will give me a better idea of any defects they might have under the dust...

But now I have to find another emblem to supplant the one I just broke. A glance at the passenger side C-pillar shows me an emblem hanging off the car on just one post.

"Something the matter?"

"Yeah – sorta broke the part I was working on. Does the driver's side have an emblem?"

Starla steps off to the side, craning her neck the rest of the way needed to get a view. "Mmm, I don't think so," she replies, downcast with her news. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to get you worked up."

"Better safe than sorry. I'm sure we'll find another," I console her, spreading a wing to pat her back.

"Ah... you want me to look for them?" she suggests, much more hesitant than earlier.

"... you know what, sure. Just maybe don't shout unless there's an issue," I laugh.