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7597 43.28 KB 734
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>Field Journal of Zippoorwhill, BC
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>Rainbow Dash did a Sonic Rainboom at the exact moment Trixie punched a bear
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>The aura of cool generated a rainbow bridge, which of course grabbed me and Ripley and spit us out in a dusty old well
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>Suppose I should be thankful it got filled in with dirt, cuz there ain't anypony here to fish me out
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>Where is here, exactly?
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>Looks like a ruined farm- nopony's lived here in years
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>Barn looks stable, Stable looks barmy- no that's not a typo that's a trottingham word har har
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>Great, been here like half an hour and I'm going nuts
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>The area isn't familiar at all- definitely got isa-
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>eeseh-
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>That thing that always happens in Fluttershy's dumb comics
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>Should pick a direction and start moving, the battery in my mini fridge will run out soon and I'll be stuck drinking warm soda
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>Steady girl, this is why the Foundation pays you the big bits
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>Sweet Celestia are you gonna be earning your pay today
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>And tomorrow
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>Possibly a rather long time
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>Crud
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>There's an old house, it makes me feel weird so I put off checking it out
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>It's probably the safest place here if I need to rest- I don't know how I know that and that's scaring me.
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>Not a structural assessment- the barn is standing just fine, and it'd be the most defensible, and the easiest to escape from
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>So why do I want to-
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>Buck it, I've got a paintball gun, I need to get in there
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>I NEED to- this place feels important
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>Just a gut feeling- like that old castle in the Everfree
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>Nothing here is important anymore, but
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>I can't shake the feeling it WAS
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>Worked myself into a frenzy
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>Shot the walls in that house
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>It's fine- just jumping at shadows
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>Feels like it's getting darker, somehow
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>Piles of crud that might have been books, whoever owned this place had a LOT of clothes too-
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>Photos on the wall, near unreadable
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>Except for a few- feels like I've seen that silhouette somewhere
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>And that embroidery on a moldy coverall? Might have been a heart?
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>I need to get out of here.
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>Mission time: T+... calling it day one.
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>Went outside and fainted from a panic attack
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>The sky was all red and the sun was hanging low-
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>No, the Foundation guys who are (hopefully oh please don't let this be pointless) reading this
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>You need to know
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>I did not stutter and trip up my recorder
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>The sun was hanging lower
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>Low enough that it was touching the mountains
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>Now it's dark, night, so many stars I've never seen so many stars
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>...
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>So dark-
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>Wait
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>Where is the moon?
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>>41687310
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>Just realized, journaling is suboptimal
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>Er
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>Journal entries
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>You know what I mean
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>I should be *recording* stuff, not just recording my mumblings after the fact
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>Ripley's got one of the decommissioned skips on his vest
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>Name translates to something like FORWARD PROFESSIONAL?
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>Stupid name for an ultralight camera, but it's a dang good camera
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>Full color, too
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>No wonder they thought it was spooky magic when they found em
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>Alright
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>That should do it-
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>BEGIN RECORDING
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>Be Zippoorwhill
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>An off-white young mare, approximately 43 years young, with-
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>I know what I look like- you know what I look like, if you find this on my shriveled-up carcass you can look up my badge number
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>Currently I'm in the loft of that old barn
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>It doesn't block out all the evil sky but if I hide in the corner I can tell myself it's hiding the part of the sky where the moon SHOULD be and then it's not so scary
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>Ha ha
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>Crud
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>(There is a long pause. Zipp Zapp is shaking like a leaf.)
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>Can I check my- no, already did that 4 times
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>I ran out of stuff to distract myself from the rise of...
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>What would evil Celestia even be? Bad Trip Sun?
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>Maybe the sleepover-grade cola was a bad idea
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>How long has it been?
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>7 hours????
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>Wait- is it getting brighter?
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>It is!
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>The sun is coming up, really slowly
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>That's-
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>How is that possible?
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>Well, we got sunlight at least
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>Ok
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>Take stock
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>That rainbow didn't come back
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>I have no idea where I am or how to get home, but I have no reason to assume Rainbow Dash and Trixie will cooperate long enough to do that thing again
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>Hopefully there's a way home from here and this isn't being analyzed by the ponies who have to figure out what to tell my dad
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>If it is- I leave everything to-
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>Dang
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>No coltfriend to bequeath stuff to
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>My dog is here with me so-
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>Crud
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>Back on track!
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>This is definitely not Equestria.
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>This place has significant value in history, anomalies, and vibes. I can continue to serve the Foundation along the way, which will hopefully provide a mental anchor to avoid despair
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>It's not impossible that other ponies ended up here by any number of methods. In which case, my primary duty is to tend to their emotional and physical wellbeing.
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>Ideally, I can find a way home
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>Less ideally, you found this on my shriveled carcass. Don't tell my dad I cried.
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>Current goal: head into whatever remains of a nearby town
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>There's what look to be roads around here.
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>Busted all to crud, but there's enough left to still call it a road.
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>Solid, smooth, black stone. Whoever built this had serious tools and know-how.
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>Ripley's too big for me to carry all the way, but-
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>This big, weird scooter?
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>I don't know why it only has two wheels- how would you even drive this thing if you're not a pegasus?
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>Well it has those little stabilizers, bringing it up to four, but still
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>This is clearly designed for pegasi- even a princess would have trouble reaching those ornamental pedals
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>I can stick Ripley in the basket and push this thing like Scootaloo
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>Off we go!
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>>41692411
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>Be Flip Flap
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>And you're still scooting
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>Scoot
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>Scoot
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>A rather large amount of scooting
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>And more scooting
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>And-
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"GAH! Where is everything!? Why is everything so far away from everything else!?"
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>Your sudden outburst makes Ripley cock his head and do an awoo
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>There is the dread possibility that there's just nothing else here but rolling savannah and ruined roads
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>No, that can't be right- there's signs you keep passing
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>All written in some alien language with complicated script you'd probably need a unicorn to write
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>But signs indicate someone cared enough to try and direct travelers
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>Travelers must have come from somewhere
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>Ipso Ergo there Must Be Stuff
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>That logic training is coming in handy
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>Maybe that's how Twilight became a princess
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>She just knows how to logic fear away
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>Hey- finally, something over there
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>A smattering of really dark, forboding and generally crap houses and house-adjacent structures
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>Closest to you, not really part of that little town but attached to it-
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>Looks like a little hut? Maybe a lean-to?
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>It's far enough away that it takes a solid minute or two of very fast high speed flapping to reach
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>But yes! It's a little lean-to! With a little sleeping bench and just enough space to park your stolen-
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>COMMANDEERED
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>Lopdy-Scootsy
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>You're sure that's not the intended name for this contraption, but it's simply too silly to not call a lopdy-scootsy.
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>Anyway
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>You set to securing your campsite, taking the tarp and the 'no bullies allowed' sign out of Ripley's bottomless pack
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>The walls are covered in glossy paper, it's rotted but it used to be pretty colorful
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>A sadness hits you like a Snips full of tater tots at full gallop
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>What happened here? Why is all this stuff so sturdy? What could have driven off a civilization capable of paving miles of road just for funsies?
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>That tarp won't be enough- anything that could tear those roads up might be smart enough to know you can just tear a tarp down (that's just some of your classified knowledge! Like Twilight said, 'the illusory safety of a tarp wall is the cornerstone of our operations. Take this secret to your grave, then bury it before you get to the eternal playground because not even Faust is allowed to know."
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>Huh
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>Sounds overly grandiose in hindsight
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>Is it royalty, or alicornity, that makes a pony want to punch gods-
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>Ripley's head snaps to the direction of the deeper ruins with a low growl, ending your reverie
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>If you listen very closely- some kind of grinding sound? Metal straining?
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>You don't know- curse Past You for thinking Adventure Architecture was stupid colt stuff!
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>It's unsettling, whatever it is- that tarp definitely won't be enough, but you and your fancy Specialiest Operations training means
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>Da da-da da
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>You are one of the few agents trusted with confectionery weapons
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>So much so that you're just GIVEN a pie as part of your standard kit. No playing phone tag or reading flash cards to get one, it's just Your Weapon of Mass Dessert
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>>41697878
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>Open patented spacetime-violating pack (refer to technical manual: "Pinkie and Her Mane: A Complete Deconstruction Of What We Once Knew")
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>Carefully set aside your spare color and gas canisters (marker is already check, loaded with purple for stealth ops)
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>Your neon-octarine laser pointer- there's no pegapie squadrons to direct, but you can find other fun uses for the unmistakable color of magic
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>Keep Ripley away from the frozen pea rations! Get your nose out of that, boy! DROP IT!
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>Primitive non-magical paper journal
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>Rope knife, freshly sharpened, for cutting various lengths of rope (Rope not included)
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>Wait
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>Why did you bring that Prench king's sword!? And your miniature Jar O' Sun? Those are worthless souvenirs!
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>Stupid sentimental filly! You could have fit a stuffed animal in that space! Well, okay, the jar of sun makes a nice nightlight with a battery life of uhhhhhhhhhh how long ago did your great great grandpa live?
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>There, at the bottom- the pie sits with a soulkilling lack of whimsy, secured in its foalproof prescription pie bottle
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>Huh
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>Is it still a bottle if it's short and fat, to contain a pie? Or does it become a pie dish automatically, regardless of it starting from a pill bottle? Questions for the scientists, not the field agents.
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>All you gotta do is remove your frilly pink mare-cut harness you use to protect your stuff from Snips
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>No idea why colts get all weird about it, it's just a harness with different-cut straps, but they act like you're showing them your tax returns
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>Wait-
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>No, that's a squeaking sound-
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>Wagon wheels?
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>Ripley's staring at a shadow on the tarp wall
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>Something is outside-
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>Hide the pie! Paintball gun in your front hooves, dog-missile ready to aggressively exfiltrate-
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>3
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>2
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>1
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>Ripley shoots out from under the tarp as you squeeze through the side, spraying suppressive fire on a tall, lanky target
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>The headbutt hit its legs and knocked it off balance, your purple shots mixing in with the garish red and yellow uniform(?)
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>All in the span of a second, it's used the momentum to spin around, regain balance, and charge at you...
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>Stopped by Ripley reacquiring target and headbutting it in the no-no region at mach 5
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>Now it's on the ground, just yelling gibberish
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>What is that thing?
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>Kind of built like that green guy, except this one is dressed like a clown
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>And you can actually remember its face when you look away
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>Your stupid, feelings-based translator spell can only read enough to say he really cares about The Golden Arches, whatever those are
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>FINALLY your gun's special ammo procs and you see it-him forget what he's doing, slowly wandering back to town
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>Still out of breath, you start to- hey what's that rustling?
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>Oh, there's a pony with a wagon
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>And he's trying to steal your tarp
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>The look on his face right now is priceless, thank crud you have that video camera
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>"Ah- hello, fellow independent operator! I see you've met the locals, or at least one of the two fiefs native to this region."
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"Uh huh."
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>>41699363
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>Unicorn. Puke green coat. Violently orange mane. Mottled spots like Pipsqueak covered in grease. Appaloosan drawl.
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>His easy stance and casual demeanor suggest he's either been here a while, or otherwise works for a group of interest
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>He did identify himself as an independent, but that's the first thing everyone teaches everyone-
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>Trying to steal your tarp right behind you is a Normal Pony level of stupid, though
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>BUT, the tarp didn't trick him- that's Big Pony spatial reasoning
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>Getting a read on this guy is gonna be-
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>"Yeah- local color! Ha ha.... ha."
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>Horseapples. He's noticed the uncomfortable pause; psychoanalyzing will have to wait. You need to do something!
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>Recall your flow chart: Don't reveal more than you need to. Start by playing along with the subject's misinformation, reveal your status as a government operative if necessary, do not reveal the Foundation.
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>"Ma'am? Um. I'm Puce Pears. Not Puke Pears, just gettin' ahead of the allegations there."
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>The cold stare is working.
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>He's unarmed and unaccompanied. You have the advantage here. Press it.
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>Ripley, ever the genius, picks up on your lowdown and moves into prime punching bag position, making sure the suspect knows he's there
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>"WOAH! Woah there, boy! Good dog! Uh, I can see you're on edge so maybe I'll-"
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"Why were you trying to steal my tarp?"
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>"Wh-what tarp? I was trying to hide from that guy but this wall wasn't here before! Hang on- where did you even come from?"
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>An appropriate response.
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>Too appropriate. Requires testing.
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>The tarp will be too obvious now, if he's a highwaymare he'll go for something he thinks you're not paying attention to.
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>After checking Ripley's camera is still running, you sit him down with a good view of Pears's face
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"Don't look away, don't make any sudden moves."
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>With that, you peel back the tarp enough to back into the shelter
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>"What the hockeystick is your problem, la-whaaaaaa?"
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>Almost believable, but you don't even need to check the feed to know he's acting.
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>Right when he must've thought you couldn't see him, the air felt greener
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>You exit the tent and look around, seeing a suspiciously blank face and an agitated dog
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>"Wow- how did you DO that, Ms- uh..."
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>That spot on Ripley's vest is green... trail of green leading to Puce's ratty saddlebags...
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>Your pegasus senses know, the air here was violated by paracausal interactions AKA unicorn magic
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"That's Captain Zippoorwhill, of Their Majesties' Special Service. And I know you just stole a device off my dog."
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>The idiot tries to run, and catches a purple stain on the rump for it.
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>Doesn't stop him fast enough, but there's a reason you clean your gun with bacon-scented oil
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>He's heading right for that town- easy hunting grounds for the two of you
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>...The town. Full of clowns. And he's going to suffer short term memory loss from the purplocity.
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>Criminal or not, you still have a duty to protect him as best as you're able.
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>Looks like resting for the night will have to wait.
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>>41700528
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>TwoHoursLater.ogg
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>Finding this guy is harder than you thought it'd be.
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>Your bacon paintball trick has finally backfired after all these years.
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>Ripley keeps picking up the scent only to find another weird clown you have to shoot.
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>Or a field of clowns and... blue-dressed, pigtailed critters? All conked out and covered in ketchup.
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>Not even good ketchup, the crummy kind you buy in bulk from a sad warehouse store.
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>You have no idea what possessed you to taste it, honestly.
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>Or who would make ketchup that tastes like it had coins in it.
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>Huh. That's not-
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>[spoiler]don't worry about it.[/spoiler]
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>Anyway! Back to tracking! Scent has already failed, so:
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>The ground is more blackstone, or slabs of grey- hardly any hoof prints to track, but great for sound.
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>Not a lot of purple here, so that *would* help you spot him... if you hadn't had to shoot half the town by now.
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>Of course, the one pony you meet would be a nasty dark green color among a dark and mottled ruin of a town.
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>Your contemplations are interrupted by the need to shoot a dress lady-
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>Gibberish
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>ppft
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>thud
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>Your earpiece's tinny speaker returns "[COLD HEATHEN!]" from whatever crud she was saying. Useless.
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"Y'know boy, we never tried talking to that first guy. Not that it would've worked but I feel bad about it."
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>"Borf!"
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"Guess all we can do now is-"
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>"[LOVE IT!]"
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"GAH!"
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>pfft
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>thud
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"Okay- this might actually be dangerous. Come on, tactical withdrawl time!"
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>Grabbing Ripley, you buzz up to the top of a small but sturdy building.
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>No ladders, no roof access, but tall enough that they can't climb up without getting help- perfect.
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>Your heart sinks as your survey passes over the pile of purple-stained enemy units. What made these things so stupid and mean?
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"Okay, street level is getting dangerous. We dunno if this is normal routine- moon's coming up, maybe the patrols are changing?"
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>"Awoo?"
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"Doubt it. I've been using purple, and it's been working- too well, actually. Notice how fast? And that half of them forget how to walk?"
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>"Bark!"
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"Yes, they are attacking us on sight- I just don't agree that they're actively hunting us-"
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>"[GLASS-FACE-SEER! BURGER-BEAST! UP! GO!]"
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"Okay. They may be organizing a hunt for us."
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>Ripley says nothing, but facepaws
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>>41703767
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>Be Silver Spoon, PHD(1)
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>Be having the worst day in recent memory
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>One minute you were at Site 02's outer bailey, time card in mouth
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>The next, some test or containment breach went even wronger than normal and now you're in the grossest excuse for a shantytown you've ever-
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>Hang on, the letters on that giant green sign are definitely English-
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>You couldn't read more than P-A before something sprinted out of the brush and tackled you
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>A significant amount of futile struggling and cursing ended with you tied to a pole, over the shoulders of two out of five insane... humans!?
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>Five women, judging by the presence of SCP-8008
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>All wearing blue dresses and offensively bright red pigtailed manes
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"Put me down! Do you have any idea who I am or who I work for!?"
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>"Shut mouth- cows no talk!"
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"I AM NOT A COW! I'M A PONY!"
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>"You small, round, have hoofs. Cow enough for baconator ritual." The entire party hums a tune at 'baconator.'
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"Ritual!? What kind of weird cult are you running? Wait, did you call me FAT? PUT ME DOWN!"
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>This is bad. Really bad. Looks like Diamond Tiara's Bitch Mom was right about you being a fat, eatable little pig vagrant.
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>At least she'll never find out, right?
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>1: PhD in Human Doodads
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-
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>Time passes
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>And passes
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>They're sturdier than they look, but they're real slow huh?
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>More time passes
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>And some more
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>Your head really hurts now
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>Wow, getting ponynapped and eaten is really boring. What would DT do?
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>Oh, right, that's obvious-
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"Your fashion sense is atrocious! Blue gingham? Hello, 987 ANM called- they want their cheap fabric back!"
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>"SHUT MOUTH!"
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"And like, what's with the hair? You're all the worst Hinny of the Hills cosplayers since the actress that actually PLAYED Hinny of the Hills!"
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>"Shut mouth! You make face meat tough!"
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"My grandma could pull that look off! She'd teach you, but she doesn't teach CLOWNS! Ha!"
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>Sigh
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>Grandma
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>14 years ago, now.
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>Wait- oh no, now you've done it. They all stopped. The smallest one's doing that eyelid-cheek twitch thing.
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>"SHUT MOUTH! BEEF TOO FRESH, FREEZE MOUTH!"
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>Silence, for the longest second in your life
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>The twitchy girl realizes she just done did it, starts to run, the two unladen women fall on her like-
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>Those spears are real
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>That's blood
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>Ohcrudohcrudthey'reactuallykillingher
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>thisisbad
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>nonononononononono
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>>41706622
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>Cold, hard on your back
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>Still hogtied-
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>Vision blurry
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>You must've passed out after seeing-
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>It wasn't your first time. Stay strong, Silver Spoon, you're a Foundation scientist!
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>Focus! Blink the crud and blur out of your eyes!
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>Refracting white in your left eye! Oh no you must have a brain tumor or adult onset eyeballitis or-
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>Or your glasses, despite miraculously staying on your head, have gotten badly cracked in the left lens
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>Yes. Right.
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>Flickering white light, black sky visible through cracks in the windows-
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>Windows? Night!? You passed out the whole rest of the way here!
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>What else is here? Trashed booth seating, filthy wallpaper that might once have suggested branding, a surprisingly clean kitchen?
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>Yep, your tomb: a fast food restaurant that might have, possibly, once upon a time, been a retro sort of cute.
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>Now it's a ruin with grease (you hope that's grease) stains everywhere and boarded up windows.
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>It smells as bad as it looks, and to top it off there's an annoying buzzing sound from those tv screens above the counter-
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>Tv screens? Wait, you recognize that symbol! You've seen it on your grandma's music player!
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>That's just your luck, huh? So many new discoveries could be here, but you're on the menu!
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>Can you chew your ropes? They're not watching you- it's now or ne-
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"BLEGH! YOU TIED ME UP WITH POLYESTER!? I'M GONNA-"
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>In lieu of finishing that sentence, you just puke. It's ok, even DTBM wouldn't harangue you over that.
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>Just one final indignity in this conga line of metaphorical pies in your literal face.
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>Their leader- you assume, at least, by her hair dye being the brightest red and the ridiculous number of braided pigtails- is in the kitchen, her head just barely visible from your perspective.
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>She's moving, bobbing in a rhythm punctuated with sharpening knives, the clatter of baskets and pans, the crisp clicks of electric switches
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>Oh wait, no, she's coming over here with a knife. You did just loudly announce you tried to escape before puking all over yourself, after all.
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>Bad move, that.
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>This might be it
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>She's sniffing you and of COURSE her breath smells like fish- where did they even get fish!?
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>You can practically hear the violin sting as the filthy knife reflects the restaurant by virtue of them both being just as filthy seriously did they forget how to use a washcloth-
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>They totally did forget about cleaning- she just shrugs and holds you down-
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>nonononono
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>notlikethis
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>atleastthekitchenisclean
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>Wait- is that a nametag?
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"WENDY, PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!"
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>Trembling, you've braced for the impact that
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>...never comes?
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>"How you know Wendy name, little beef horse?"
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>>41706630
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"I-i-i-t's on your nametag! I c-c-can r-read it!"
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>One of her tribe members scoffs. "She fibbing! Everyone know Wendy Tribe always call chief Wendy!"
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>The filthy rabble starts to murmur, until Wendy raises a hand.
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>"This true- everyone know that. Bigwheel traders, orange cat tribe, hated Ronalds, all know Wendy. Even far kingdom of Mouse, seek Wendy tribe to cook royal buffet in long-ago. But, NOT everyone truly know letters."
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>As she speaks, she strides over and flops into a throne made out of an old booth, covered in... clown skin!?
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>"Wendolyn say you reading signs when she catch you. Wendella say you know name of tribe vestments. Wendana say you made traitor reveal self. Now, we hear you speak. You speak long and smooth, like man in sacred glass."
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>Sacred glass? You know a few things that could be- come on, keep her talking!
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>"We get tricked before. Cheater impress us, seem to know much. Knows nothing but ritual- leaves tribe worse than before, lose favor with Mouse King. We not be fooled again- Tribe forgets much, but Wendy learn letters from mother Wendy. Know signs, old words."
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>She spreads her arms and points to everywhere. "Tell Wendy what this road named. Or stone forest all around. Price of sacred Baconator before Man-With-Wide-Hat fried great desert. Anything do really, Wendy not care what."
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"I didn't see any signs cuz I was upside down and tied to a pole! I fainted after they- after... after-"
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>"Wendella and Wendolyn kill heretic Wendivere. Fresh! Never Frozen!"
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>Your ears ring as the entire tribe roars the slogan back at Wendy. How many of them are in here!? Focus! Can't afford to fail!
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"Okay- price of a bay-kun-ay-tor, sure. Numbers are easy- uh, I need a menu or something if you want me to read it."
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>They shrug, almost sheepishly. Wendy points at the glitchy tvs. Two meaty paws on your sides squeeze out a squeak, and you find yourself hoisted onto the counter and held upright.
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>The stress of being grabbed with clawlike hands is distraction enough, even worse with you having to shut your left eye, and the flickering artifacting display, and the tiny text on the parts that do stay still-
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>Another yelp, more vertigo, thank Meg your insides are already empty- Wendella has your gangle of legs and stomach balanced on her head; it hurts and it's hard to breathe but you're as close as you can get without the huge chief getting out of her chair.
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"Uh, let's see- McDonald's Value Menu- wait, that can't be right- Wendy, aren't you named after your tribe after this whole building?"
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>Twitchy faces.
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>Ulp
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>They haven't reached for their weapons yet- but for how long?
-
"Heh-heh-uh, I don't think that clown guy matches the decor, do you have the wrong menu? I don't even see a 'baconator' on here- just a 'bacon somethingsomething biscuit'? That part's all wobbled up."
-
>The entire tribe gasps- it seems you just committed blasphemy. Or heresy. You're not sure which. Oh well, they were gonna eat you anyway.
-
-
>>41706981
-
>As with all tragedies, you blame Diamond Tiara's Bitch Mother and pray she doesn't get a single one of your dollies in the estate auction.
-
>Assuming Diamond Tiara didn't immediately blow your bugout stash on luxury mustard- again- she'll have more than enough to get them all.
-
>You did your best, but it's time you were headed to that place where it's always sunny and the slides are never hot.
-
>Maybe grandma will be there and she can laugh at you for getting turned into burgers. She was such a bitch and you loved her for that.
-
>Nothing left but to have a shred of dignity, so screw your eyes shut and wait.
-
>And wait, and wait, and-
-
>Huh.
-
>You're still thinking and hurty and gross and generally stuck in this crusty little mortal body.
-
>Kinda figured you'd be a stack of gross, crusty filets 'o' filly by now. Or at least on the way to it.
-
>You risk opening an eye..
-
>Wendella set you down somewhere- you were too busy shaking like a leaf and praying they at least used extra virgin olive oil to notice.
-
>They're all in a huddle, murmuring, except for Wendy-
-
>She's coming at you with the knife! Oh no! Don't look don'tlookdontlookdontlook-
-
>A hand on your cheek. Gentler than the giant has any right to be.
-
>"That wrong menu. Wrong menu for generations. Many 'wise' cheaters visit. Tell us what they think we want to hear. Praise baconator, praise Wendy, all lies."
-
>Feeling returns in your extremities. You're free. You're free!?
-
>She steps away for a few minutes, which you use to try and massage blood back into your legs.
-
>"Please, beef-horse, bless the baconator with milk-cheese."
-
"I'm sorry- what?"
-
>"Is symbolic, we know you not with baby. We need cow to play cheesemaker, but no cows here in tens of winters. You small, round, hoofs- close enough."
-
"You mean you weren't gonna carve me into steakums if I screwed up that reading?"
-
>They all break into roaring laughter at your ignorance
-
>Well, yeah, in hindsight-
-
>The honored guest transport is totally different from the roadkill roundup stick!
-
>They didn't want your face tender, they wanted you to save your voice... or something. Ha. ha...
-
>Trendy health ponies do say a cold, hard floor is supposed to be good for you. Somehow.
-
>Yeah. Obviously you were overreacting to a totally NoRMaL foaLNAPPing. It all adds up! Except-
-
"Wait, what about you waving that knife around!?"
-
>"Kept trying to free you, you kept shaking like twig in sharknado. Didn't want to cut your legs."
-
"Ha ha ha! Of course, that makes- wait what's a sharknado?"
-
-
>>41707021
-
>>41703767
-
>Be Zippoorwhill
-
>You've been roof-hopping for hours; now, you're on the rear side of some big billboard. The fancy kind, with walled catwalks and what used to be a ladder.
-
>No idea what it's selling. To you, it's just another faded image of whatever these clowns are descended from, grinning ear to ear at some implausible contraption.
-
>At once-in-a-lifetime prices no doubt. It's no concern to you, or really to these savages anymore, either.
-
>You don't intend to stay, and they don't seem to have any ambitions beyond fighting each other.
-
>Huh. Now that you're thinking about it-
-
>Seeing a lot more sleeping dress ladies than clowns.
-
>Like a LOT more. The one you shot might have been the only one walking around... And was she even attacking you, or was she only after the clown you shot?
-
>A soft headbutt knocks you out of your mental wandering. Right. Back on task.
-
-
>Something that *is* of immediate concern: you're losing the cover of night. That impossibly slow sun is peeking over the horizon.
-
>The streets below are still shadowed by the buildings, so the clowns get to hide in the dark for a while longer. Great. Thanks for that.
-
>You had been resting and keeping an eye out for that Puce guy, bugging out whenever enough clowns found you that they started making serious attempts to reach you.
-
>The cover of darkness on this moonless world meant you could distract them, fly off, hop a few roofs and have an hour before one finds you, gets his friends and comes back.
-
"UGH! We've been all over this stupid town and haven't found the unicorn, or why my glasses tick these guys off so much, or a way home, or-"
-
>Grinding in the air, like at nightfall, but this time it resolves into a distant humming. And with that-
-
>Ozone. Urge to close your nictitating membranes. Reflexively secure the dog. Hackles raised. Attention drawn to the sudden instability of lightning in a storage medium. West-northwest. Threat is west-northwest movemovemovemoveMOVE.
-
>That'd be your cloudsense, insisting there's a thunderhead about to become a wild thunderstorm over there.
-
>Except there can't be a thunderhead that low, not here. But what else could it be?
-
>Some of the skips do trigger that sense, but not like this. The camera barely registers for more than a second after you turn it on!
-
>This? This is like all your miserable ancestors are smacking the fear of Tirac back in your bones, and the smooze is wa-
-
>GAH
-
>A bunch of lights just came on! Including lights all around this stupid billboard! No stealth for anyone! Blindness for you, come on, blink it out!
-
>Guh. Ok.
-
>Oh yeah that's a lotta yellow n red... Not noticing the screaming filly? They seem preoccupied with-
-
>Of course you finally find the puke-green potatohead, he's managed to get the ENTIRE circus on his tail!
-
-
>>41719052
-
>You can't fight that many clowns! You already used a whole gas cartridge tonight, not to mention you don't have enough purple!
-
>The pie? No, it's no mere antiponysonnel pie, it's got enough cream filling to clear out a city block. Fun as it would be to take Pukey out with them, there's multiple rules explicitly preventing you from doing exactly that.
-
>You still can't believe you almost rigged a tripwire to it- though if that grinding was an attempt to bring the lights back on, that might've been what set you on edge?
-
>Where's our thief? Ah, he ducked into a big wagon- you recall the one in Foundation custody being basically Snips-proof, so it'll hold out against a few hundred clowns for a while.
-
>You also recall them being not quite airtight, so the pie is unfortunately not back on the menu. Gonna need to do this with old-fashioned grunt work.
-
>Which you don't have the ammo for.
-
>Okay, don't panic. Just means it's time for on-site procurement.
-
>On-site procurement: It's not looting when you do it!
-
>You're already high up, just look around. Towns like this usually have one big store for cheap, miscellaneous crud-
-
>Right behind you. The billboard you were on was probably advertising sales for this exact store.
-
>You can't really read any of it, but with the rising daylight it does look like the logos are the same.
-
>Hopefully a store that sells.... What is that? A blender that can mount four cups at once? Controlled with an arcade cabinet? That's stupid.
-
>Heh. You can imagine it now- you bring one in, the researchers assume it really is a stupid blender despite no cups being shown, then it turns out to be a toy flying machine somehow.
-
>Whatever it is, you can't imagine it'll help, but if this store specialized in gadgets they might have sold gardening equipment on the side. Paints. Wood. Batteries.
-
>Things gadgets are made OF.
-
>Right! Objective located, proceed to AO.
-
>Buzz down, proceed foward.
-
>Stay low enough to avoid being spotted, high enough to avoid anyone hiding in the rows of parked carts.
-
>It's.... harder than it should be. You keep jumping at shadows, almost dropping Ripley once.
-
>By the time you reach the big glass doors, you're wobbling in the air, after moving less than a hoofball field's length.
-
>Oh
-
>Right
-
>You've been awake for like 40 hours
-
>Running on cola and p-nut botr crkrz(1)
-
>And your brain is fried from some big thing replacing all the compass directions with PAIN.
-
>Smack yourself, get to it! You've been through worse! Barely, but still!
-
>Alighting onto an old rubber mat, the building's doors open on their own.
-
>Enter- The TOMB of VALUE.
-
-
>1. Can't sue us for false advertising because we didn't call them peanut butter crackers. Nyah nyah.
-
-
>>41721486
-
>The doors close behind you with a pitiful attempt at what may have, way back in Once Upon a Time times, passed for a cheerful beep.
-
>The lights are really crummy in the few places they still work
-
>Flickering overhead lamps over a few sections make long-feathered shadows
-
>Really makes the place feel darker than if it just had no light to begin with, doesn't it?
-
>Okay. Harness secure. Front legs in the leg holes. Hover over the ground and keep your gun at the ready.
-
>Flip
-
>Flap
-
>Flop
-
>Right. That's... less than ideal, with your condition.
-
>Moving like that for more than an hour hurts; it's been... 12?
-
>Nothing much to do but carry the gun by mouth. You take a minute to practice getting your hooves in it from this position, and set off once you remember how to not punch the gun away from you.
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>This store's a lot bigger than it looks
-
>But also smaller than you'd think?
-
>Yep. Definitely whatever passes for a Barnyard Bargains here
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Nothing in here but the two of you
-
>Makes sense- the outside was relatively intact
-
>Assuming the doors were powered by THE PAIN TOTEM, this whole store has remained unsullied for... You don't know how long.
-
>Weird.
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Well, not nothing
-
>Plenty of rats, bugs, etc
-
>But nothing that registers on your Finely Honed Soldier Instincts (TM)
-
>Okay, but seriously.
-
>Glass walls. Intact for how long?
-
>Whatever, it's a question for the eggheads back home.
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Meg it's dark in here.
-
>Reminds you of your room back home.
-
>And your bed- NO DON'T START THIS CLICHE NOW!
-
>No time to sleep!
-
>Out of soda, but this is a big box store- they gotta have SOMETHING
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>[spoiler]You really need to sleep, dear.[/spoiler]
-
>Can't sleep here, might not wake up!
-
>And who's talking!?
-
>And-
-
>Wow. Convenient timing to walk past a mirror.
-
>You look worse than Twilight with no friendship problems.
-
>...
-
>The secret voice is right. You at least need a nap.
-
>Can't save anyone if you keel over out in the open and wake up pushing flowers.
-
>[spoiler]You'll be fine. You have a good friend with you.[/spoiler]
-
>Manager's office.
-
>Back of the store. Proper door with a lock, not a cubicle or stall door.
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Yep, it's pretty secure.
-
>Hope that puke guy can hold out.
-
>Hey- what's that sound?
-
>Oh. How polite- someone left a big pile of chew toys in that chair.
-
>Almost reminds you of one of those clowns-
-
>[spoiler]Go to bed.[/spoiler]
-
-
>>41732165 (You)
-
>Be Ripley Ripleysparentsson
-
>Dog of Dog Clan, Whose Charge Was Given By The First Friend
-
>Retainer of Your Liege, Best Filly, Whose Bestness Is Proven By Being Your Filly
-
>ABOMINATION
-
>Your Liege's allegiances do not concern you.
-
>You are her dog. You are trusted with the food. The Friendglass Eye. The mindkiller.
-
>SLAVE
-
>Your master is in command, thus all is right in the world.
-
>ZEALOT
-
>All except for one:
-
>Best Filly seems tired.
-
>Actually, Best Filly has been steadily going mad for the last two days.
-
>RABID
-
>You've been fighting and running more in this place than you did in all the time since the last snow fell.
-
>Fighting at all is bad for the Friends. Even Best Filly can only take so much, for all her Esteem among the Friends.
-
>WEAKLINGS
-
>Come to think of it.
-
>It's getting hard for you, too
-
>Best Filly is sleeping, now?
-
>MEAT
-
>How long has she slept without you noticing?
-
>TAKE THE MEAT
-
>FOOL
-
-
>It would be so easy, why shouldn't you-
-
>No. You will not.
-
>YES
-
>This place is evil, wild and merciless.
-
>It wants to drag you back down into unknowing.
-
>YOU ARE AN ANIMAL
-
>How long have you been under this sky? In this tiny cave of flattened tree?
-
>LONG ENOUGH
-
>No. That cannot be correct.
-
>If Best Filly is still here, then you have not been here long enough.
-
>Your watch shall continue.
-
-
>You can't see Best Filly anymore
-
>You look and only see shapes. Flesh. Foo-
-
>Do not finish that.
-
>FINISH THAT PLUMP LEG MAYBE
-
>Something is profoundly wrong in this place.
-
>You need to fight it while you still can.
-
>As in all things, reflect upon your Liege's leadership for inspiration.
-
>Hm
-
>The Friends are fond of invoking old things. Faust, Megan, Celestia, Mother.
-
>DEAD, DEAD, HATES LIVING, WILL-BE-DEAD
-
>Very well. Prepare thyself for a contemplation of the Holy Scrimshaw.
-
-
>>41736003
-
>It's been a while but you remember the important bit
-
>50,000 winters before now, Dog was alone after a bad hunt
-
>In his half-starved wandering, he happened upon a fire
-
>Normally, all beasts avoided those who made fire
-
>But if he did not act, it would be too late to ever act again
-
>He approached
-
>He was not chased away
-
>He made a friend
-
-
>Friend
-
>Yes, that thought warms you
-
>Fifty thousand winters ago, your ancestor knew the magic of Friendship before such words existed
-
>An unbroken lineage, an unbroken covenant, leads this very old friendship directly to you
-
>You and Best Filly
-
>To think you considered such horrific betrayal?
-
>You are more than that fear and hunger
-
>You are a Friend
-
>One who has the eternal right to Be On The Sofa
-
>To eat of the People Food
-
>To ponder with her, the divine mysteries of the Plastic Disc
-
>How does it stay aloft, when it has no feathered wing? Its shape, so perfectly matched to the canine mouth, how can such perfection be?
-
-
>Your eyes flit open (when did they close?)
-
>That nagging voice is gone.
-
>There is no meat, only your Liege.
-
>The demon is silent, yet the fear of it remains.
-
>No matter. You will guard.
-
>The Sacred Oath of Face Lickies cannot be broken.
-
>No matter how much it hurts, or for how long.
-
>She would watch over you.
-
>She has watched over you.
-
>Shaky as you are, it matters not.
-
>Doubt is simply the difference between certainty and faith.
-
>In the face of this yawning void, you are armed with two truths:
-
>Friendship is magic
-
>And yours is a very, very old friendship.
-
-
>>41748509
-
>Be Zip
-
>Just had the best sleep of your life
-
>Somehow
-
>That distant buzzing is still in the back of your head, but at least you can see straight again
-
>How long has it- EIGHT HOURS?
-
>Right, that's the normal amount of sleep
-
>Pukeboy is probably gone by now, thoughwaaaaait a second
-
>That buzzing feeling is coming from two directions
-
>The camera! Either pukeboy is nearby, or whatever ate him is
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Clip
-
>Clop
-
>Pony approaching your cave?
-
>No, too rapid
-
>TWO ponies approaching
-
>A voice cries out in frustration as the doorknob jiggles
-
>A filly's voice?
-
>Silver Spoon's voice!
-
>Right as you work the lock, Ripley is knocked backwards by the door flying open
-
>In turn, you find yourself covered in grey filly hug
-
>"omigoshzippoorwhillwherehaveyoubeen- WHAT ARE YOU DOI-OOF"
-
>What you were doing was shooting Pukeboy before he could run off again and plopping him on Silver Spoon's back
-
"Guy stole my camera. Knocking him out is a safety measure; last time I lost track of him he had half the town cornering him in a big wagon."
-
>"Oh. Uh..."
-
"And since we're in the wilderness and you're not MTF ponysonnel, I'm in charge, and I'm ordering you to...."
-
>Crap. You just committed the worst sin an MTF agent can do: Let an egghead think they've got authority here.
-
>"Right, you don't know how to get home either. First things first, found some primo ravioli out there. It's still good, somehow, I think? Just don't think about it."
-
>She hoofs you a bright red can with a pull top, the image of a smiling mustachioed chef holding a bowl of ravioli on one side
-
"How do you know this stuff's still good? Have you-"
-
>And another- ooh, she can't open them. Pull top cans and all.
-
"You haven't tried them? How do you know they're still good!?"
-
>"I recognize a few of the ingredients- one of them was also in these banana cakes my granny had, and she said they'd keep forever. Makes sense that it'd be a preservative and it'd be inside a can of food, right?"
-
"Or it could be the word for-"
-
>"Whatever you're going to say, no. I can read the language, and I already know it has sugar and tomatoes in it. The weird sciencey-sounding words are the ones to look for, and I found a few of them!"
-
>Silver Spoon can- y'know what? Whatever. You can ask later. Worst case scenario, she's wrong and this stuff stinks.
-
>Time to do some honest grunt work
-
>You slip a wingtip underneath the can and finagle your hooves to get a good grip on it
-
>The others are in the corner with their ears plugged as you count down
-
>3
-
>2
-
>1
-
>MARK
-
>A light pop signals your success. Silver Spoon squeaks in enstartlemation, but the worst is yet to come
-
>Now, the slow removal of the razor sharp lid.
-
>One error means you could cut yourself or someone else. Even Ripley slinks back as you take it to a hazardous waste bin
-
>The whole time, the egghead is watching you with that mixture of fear and awe that makes this crummy job worth it
-
>And doing it twice? You're earning your pay, soldier
-
>It was harrowing, but nowhere near as bad as some of the cookie dough cans you've had to open
-
>Sniff
-
>Smells like tomaters
-
>Tastes like really bland tomaters
-
>Food: Approved!
-
>Try not to think about what kind of dark sorcery was needed to make this happen. How these cans have been sitting here, for possibly a century or more, unravaged by the machinations of time and rot.
-
-
-
>2 Hours Later
-
>You're full of the most disgustingly adequate and mediocre ravioli you've ever had
-
>The first bites weren't so bad, but as you ate more it caused your Bitalian blood to boil
-
>It was as if a thousand generations of nonnas were staring disapprovingly at you, rolling pins in their mouths
-
>This might be the biggest dishonor in your career, and that's counting that time you had to falsify a report card on behalf of a not-to-be-named-even-in-private asset
-
>No going back now. Not to the days when you'd only known good pasta, and certainly not to Bitaly.
-
>Never again can you gaze upon the Leaning Tower of Pizza, even on a vacation.
-
>Scum like you DESERVES canned pasta-
-
>"HEY! ZIPP!"
-
>You fall over backwards and scoot away, barely managing to not fire in Silver Spoon's direction.
-
"GAH! WHAT!? DON'T DO THAT!"
-
>"You were zoned out- wasn't sure if this place was getting to you again."
-
>Right. You're comrades, no need to-
-
"Again? How did you know?"
-
>"You TOLD me? It's been like 2 hours! We went all over this store grabbing gear!"
-
>That kind of sounds right, but you might've taken too long in saying so because-
-
>"Oh no, you're even worse than we thought!"
-
>Oh. Right. Yeah she might be right.
-
>Don't stay silent- she's worried enough as is.
-
"Fighting a lot always gets to you- what's making it 10 times worse is my electro-sense getting overloaded. Staying up for 2 or 3 days straight didn't help, either."
-
>The bespectacled filly gives you a questioning look
-
"You didn't hear the thunder last night? Right before some of the street lights came on?"
-
>
-
>
-
>
-
"Silver Spoon?"
-
>The quizzical countenance changes to a level 4 scrunch
-
"Silver Spoon, what did you do?"
-
>"I thought it would send me home! The buttons kept referring to a sun!"
by woggs123
by woggs123
by woggs123
by woggs123
by woggs123