Carbon Copy

     Settling into his new life was not easy for 'Tesla,' despite how he had appeared to his inspectors at the gem factory. After all, a new body was one thing to take in, but being the one observed instead of the one observing was slightly unnerving for him. Rustic Rune was still convinced he might be a demon, but he'd been too busy trying to figure out his muscle mechanisms to notice, generally staying in seclusion when he wasn't being toted around the workshop to be used as a mobile shelf. In fact, he'd been so busy adapting, that he hadn't dreamt since he'd gotten to what he'd learned was known as Gem Fido, a territory north of the ponies' native land of Equestria. And yet there was one thing bothering him...

     "I don't get it. How were you able to convince them to let you walk around freely? It doesn't make any sense," he'd had this conversation before, but still found the answer unsatisfactory.

     "I told you, when we were getting you out of the mine I sprained an ankle," replied Rustic Rune, focusing on recharging a lantern. A new ring was hanging around her horn, allowing for non-combat spells to be performed. She found the task of being a 'normal' unicorn exhilarating after being cooped up in the mines for a few months, especially when she hadn't been able to use magic at all; the metaphoric equivalent of learning how to use your feet to write.

     "Not buying it," he deadpanned. "You didn't have a limp when you came into my cell a few days ago, and your joint would be swollen. At least act the part." He shuffled to a different side of the work station they were at, eyeing the unicorn in as obvious manner as possible, forcing some mild fidgeting while she focused on the next lantern.

     Rustic Rune allowed herself a smile, pushing her glassed slightly up her nose with a refocusing of her magic as she pointedly ignored her charge. "I don't know what to say, maybe the dogs were feeling nice for a change."

     "Hmph," was the reply she'd gotten. Despite her trepidation, the thing working next to her was rather amusing in his own way. A barb here, a jab there, him still questioning the basics. Most of the time she felt like she was talking to an intern rather than an artifact, and that made her job all the more relaxing. A way to slip back into the daily grind.

     "INSPECTION!"

     The daily grind, however, did have its downsides. For one, having the first inspection after Tesla started was a problem that hadn't been thought of.

     "Tesla, hide!" She whispered earnestly, glancing to where she'd last seen him. What she found was a distinct lack of responsive metal, a record time to move if his short history working with her was anything to go off of. His normal waddle was barely over a trot for Celestia's sake, how'd he get away?

     "What are you doing? Get back to work!" Shouted the inspector from across the sweatshop. Despite the number of windows, hot air still gathered in the recharging station, turning the stone building into an oversized oven. The air practically thrummed with heat, warping the edges of the windows.

     Rushing back to her work, she found herself panicking. 'Where did he go? How are we going to hide him?'

     "Hey, you look stressed. Everything okay?"

     "AH!"

     "What? I was gone for five seconds getting the next batch of gems. If we get far enough ahead on the orders, we might be able get some decent airflow in here," Tesla said, seemingly oblivious to the lanky diamond dog slowly making their way over to the orange mare's work station. He balanced a tray of refractive crystals on the table, his stubby grey arms barely reaching the surface.

     "Get. Down. Now," growled the mare, taking a chipped hoof and shoving the machine face first below the worn workbench. She swore, as she soon as she was able to, she'd ship him off to the scrap pile if he kept up that sort of attitude.

     "Get back to work already!" Yelled a brusque voice into her ear, nearly deafening her. The smell surprised her though: minty clean, and here she was about to go off onto the gag reflex out of habit. "Now, what was distracting you in the first place miss..."

     "I'm Rustic Rune. And, uh, I was, making sure I had all my tools. Eh, I thought I'd, um, dropped one?" She stammered out, barely able to come up with an excuse.

     "Well then, I suppose we can't have that. Let me have a look," the rather upkept dog offered, setting a clipboard down on the table and straightening the collar on his brown vest.

     "No! Er, I mean, I already found it. Thank you."

     "Nonsense, I'll check if the last worker left anything here," he insisted as he bent down.

     "No, that's-"

     "Hey Rune, who's this guy?" Behind the purple coated diamond dog was the stout automaton carrying another tray of uncharged crystals, somehow having reappeared. Rustic Rune couldn't figure out how she missed him; after all, he clacked and whirred with every step. "Oh, and the back of the desk fell off." She spared a hurried glance at the termite ridden particle board that now lay on the floor, the remnants more tan dust than splinters.

     "Uh, inspector? This is Tesla. He's new here," Rune said exasperatedly, tired of dealing with her stocky charge as she slammed for face into the table in defeat, too tired to do anything besides take a short break.

     Instead of being berated though, a glow of curiosity lit the inspector's eyes, a fascination that reminded her of discovering the can with the others. There was Helena, the griffin, and that blue pegasus. What was his name? Star... Blazer? No, that wasn't right. She'd think of it eventually.

     Laughing suddenly brought her out of her introversion, finding her spaced out and clueless to what was going on. "See? Told you she wasn't paying attention," the black masked Matoran chuckled lowly, getting an even bigger belly laugh from the diamond dog inspector, who was practically howling with laughter.

     "What? What's so funny?" Demanded the unicorn, feeling the slightest twinge of anger starting to grow from the already stressed atmosphere. All gem recharging had stopped, letting pairs of large eyes lead over to the unfolding spectacle. One by one, everypony else started laughing too, despite her vexed glare telling them otherwise. Even her Uncle Virgil had joined in, his face lined with dusty wrinkles that hadn't been used in months. The grey lines contrasted against his cream coat nicely, the leathery skin making it look as if his face had been carved out of a light marble.

     A metal hand settled on her shoulder to get her attention before she burst from a mix of anger and embarrassment. Facing her, Tesla reached above her head, and flicked a strand of hair that was sticking straight up, followed by another, and another. Soon enough, she was chuckling herself, realizing that her mane had somehow been turned into a mohawk when she was thinking about her relapse into the mock  archaeology team that had been disbanded. In fact, her mane felt like it had been combed, not very well of course, but better than the knots that normally filled the dark mat of hair.

     Slowly winding his chuckling down, the purple furred diamond dog eventually regained control over his heaving sides. "I haven't laughed like that in years, thank you... Tesla, was it?" He asked, jotting down some positive notes about the facility.

     Lightly chuckling himself, Tesla confirmed his name, "Although I never got yours, you know it's rude for only one person to introduce themselves."

     The diamond dog smiled again, chuckling softly, "Very good, but you can call me Inspector Strad."

     "Mind if I come with you? It's hot in here, and I need some water before I die of heat exhaustion."

     "I couldn't have said it any better myself," the diamond dog said before turning towards the door and indicating the machine should follow.

     All the while, Rustic Rune sat on her stool with her cracked glasses and fading mohawk, staring blankly at the pair. What am I, chopped liver? She snorted, then turned back to her work, the metal band around her horn feeling slightly heavier than usual. It was no business of hers to try interfering with the equivalent of diamond dog nobles, despite her yearning to continue to study the machine. Still, she had to admit that the atmosphere was more relaxed than she'd seen since she'd been brought up, but the other's practically radiated joy. Perhaps it wasn't going to be so bad after all.

     Inspector Strad stretched his arms wide once he stepped onto the grey dirt and pebble street, eliciting several joints to pop before he cracked his shaggy neck. "Oh, boy has it been a long day," he said, motioning for Tesla to follow to the mason-filled inner city. Quietly, the Matoran put one over-sized black foot in front of the other, his jerking locomotion turning into a stiff-legged jog in order to keep up with the longer stride of the Inspector.

     "Tesla, exactly what are you?" He knew the question would come up sooner or later, and would be asked more often than he was comfortable. Maybe I should make one of the Armageddon signs people hang around their necks to explain my situation.

     "From my best guess? I'm a Matoran. A villager. Something for menial labor, and leaving a few days," he responded, garnering a baffled look from the diamond dog. He couldn't turn his head up, but the brief change in stride told him his last remark had the effect he wanted: come across jokingly despite being completely serious.

     "HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, you had me going there. Getting out of here? The only ones allowed to leave are the slavers. Good luck getting around the guard on the walls" he said, sounding ever so slightly wistful at the concept of leaving, a detail that Tesla had learned to pick up on at an early age.

     Pausing his newly found form of speed waddling, Tesla stopped and looked at the place around him. Small buildings were built on top of each other, each looking to have been made out of broken wooden crates and shards of metal. From beneath the sheet metal roofs hungry eyes gazed out, reminding him of the guards' intimidation of eating metal and that he would not be at the top of the food chain here. Even with his limited viewpoint, the shambles of houses hiding almost everything behind them, he could make out the distinct line of the city limits: a large cobblestone wall held was together with a light colored mortar. From his viewpoint he could make out a ballista manned by two guards who were currently leaning against the device, chatting the evening away.

Facing each other, giving the guards a blind spot behind the other's head, but otherwise keeping an eye on almost everything.

     Internally frowning at the facts he'd been given, Tesla tried figuring out a way to get out of the place Strad had given some insight to, but came up empty. Instead of a response, he shrugged as best he could and continued following the rather skinny diamond dog in front of him while changing the subject. "So... how'd you learn to speak so well? Every other dog I've come across uses broken speech. It's a relief, sure, but a rarity here from the looks of it."

     A short silence followed as Strad arranged his thoughts when he continued walking toward the center of the city. This sort of thinking was unusual for him. Nobody had tried getting to know him before, forcing new pathways to be forged deep within the skull of the inspector. "Well, I suppose that would be due to my father. He's an ambassador and scout, luring griffins into traps and talking travelers into taking 'scenic,'" he used quotation signs for emphasis, "routes to take them along the raiders. Nobody can argue that an intelligent diamond dog is less likely a slaver than an uncivilized brute."

     Tesla checked the body language of the person next to him. His head was still in thought, maybe remembering an event, but his movement looked forced, and he had started walking at a slightly faster pace. The metallic construct behind him could barely keep up at this new pace, stumbling here and there from overcompensating for a miscalculated step.

Maybe humor could help him...

     "Well, for an uncivilized beast such as yourself, perhaps you could- GAK!" His body was thrown through a nearby shack, almost bringing the roof down on him. Almost before he'd pushed his torso off the ground he was thrown down the street, several small divots formed from where he'd bounced before stopping.

Has this guy heard of attempted humor? What the hell was that for? Maybe diamond dog culture has a different sense of humor than most people in Dayton, he thought as he lay on his back, pausing in an attempt to find the line he'd crossed.

     A moment's hesitation took place before he opened his eyes again, finding an unfamiliar pressure on his chest. Above him stood the Inspector with his brown vest and purple fur, claws extended and eyes hardened. Below his mask Tesla felt an odd prickling sensation near his throat, actually making him start to fidget in nervousness.

     "I won't tell you again. Call me an animal, in any way, shape, or form, and I will kill you," he growled, his body poised to strike if the stocky machine refused, arm cocked and hand balled into a fist.

So that's what it was. Geez buddy, let go of it already. It's unhealthy.

     Until the diamond dog let up, Tesla could only lay there. He couldn't nod, and didn't have thumbs to give him a thumbs up for understanding. After a few moments, the diamond dog let up and started walking down the street. I'm going to have to be very careful around here. I can't imagine what the rest of them are like if it's that easy to set them off.

     Day soon turned to night as the pair walked through the city, each stuck in his own thoughts. The stout machine had noted how much different the living quarters for the slaves and civilians had been, and found a disturbing lack of it. In fact, the slaves almost seemed to be in better living conditions than the rest of the town. They were dry, but the diamond dogs looked like they struggled to get by. The other fact that was slightly disturbing was how the industrial district was maintained better than the rest of what he'd seen, even the streets were smoother there.

Wait. That's where the 'civilized' people are. They might be cleaning it up. While I'm at it, I wonder if I could get that canister I woke up in up here to look at, or me down there.

     Suddenly, the Matoran stopped, turned, and began retreating back to the gem recharging station. He'd had enough of following this mutt around, and didn't feel like wasting the time talking to him, despite how useful of a tool he could turn out to be.

     "Hey, where are you going?" Came the call after him, which he ignored. There was too much to think about, and he needed a relatively familiar place. "HEY! I'm talking to you."

All that idiot is is an overgrown teenager. Too old to pass as a kid and too lazy to get anywhere as an adult.

     Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder, and Tesla could feel the familiar hatred for people bubbling to the surface. If Strad even tried throwing him through another wall, he'd kill or maim him. He kept walking, tired of having wasted his time with this 'Inspector,' shrugging off the paw.

Overly aggressive, easy to piss off, vain for his species from what I've seen, and overall trying too hard. Speaks fluently, and Rustic Rune looked at him like something to avoid. What do slaves avoid? Punishment. Who does that come from? Their masters.

Let's see, every joint restrains nerves from going over the bone, so there are likely several similar nerve structures beneath the armpits and in the elbows and knees. If he attacks, I'm breaking some toes to start with, followed by his teeth.

     No sooner than he'd finished the thought had he felt a sudden lurch before being thrown through the wall, leaving a rough hole in the shape of his flailing form. Shaking his torso back and forth, he tried clearing his head before the next assault came. Again, he was picked up, and thrown into the rotten roof support, bringing a pile of rusted metal on top of him.

I really should have remembered I couldn't reach his toes to stomp on, he thought sullenly as he waited for his dazed body to start responding again. A claw ripped through the metal near his right hand, startling the Matoran and inadvertently making him squirm away, bringing more debris around his trapped body. Wait, rusted sheet metal...

     Carefully moving his left hand, he gripped at anything loose enough to use as a weapon. The claw grasped his right hand and yanked him toward the darkening dirt street outside where he'd undoubtedly be attacked again. A piece of rebar was held firm as he was dragged from his temporary relief. Suddenly a harsh pinching sensation tore through his left shoulder, followed by a loosening of his grip on his weapon.

Like hell I'm going to let this fleabag kick my ass again, he growled internally, making sure to keep this a story where he could say, 'But you should have seen the other guy.'

     His immobile head was swiftly pulled from the wreckage, followed by the rest of his body being suspended at arms length from Inspector Strad. From his vantage point, he could see a small puddle of amber fluid gathering below his left foot, likely caused by the pinching sensation he'd felt earlier. Before his captor had the opportunity to lecture Tesla further about his behavior, he swung the iron rod at the end of the dog's ankle, striking the bony part of the ankle and making the his right leg give out, temporarily crippling the lanky diamond dog in front of him.

     Tesla dropped to the ground, his left side slightly lighter than his right, landing with a crunch on the light spread of gravel. Sprawled before him was a rapidly recovering diamond dog with his hackles standing on end, giving the impression of a small purple lion mane. Knowing he was outmatched and the destructive capability of the set of claws before him, Tesla ran. He might not have known the way back to the charging station Rustic Rune worked in, but he knew he could at least make it back to the industrial side of town.

     Sharp clacking sounds behind him redoubled his pace toward a side street, hoping a dumpster could hide him before his pursuer caught up. Much to his immense relief, he found a large metal container along the side of the alley he ducked into, but could not reach the lid, let alone jump into it. Several wooden crates next to it made a series of large steps that looked reachable though...

     "There you are," the exclamation behind him startled him, making him jump up the first crate accidentally.

Well, how 'bout that?

     Inspector Strad stopped his chase though, seeing what the Matoran was going to do: jump into a trash shoot. The garbage system was simple enough, make a hole, deep, and then make a hole to the surface for the populace to throw into it. If they needed more room, an order would be given to carve a cavern beneath the trash heap, the collapse the roof with explosives, often taking the live of several slaves in the process.

     Grinning, the Inspector let his target get away, only to dash over to the dumpster to hear the faint screaming of an individual falling to their death.