With the war constantly ramping up, and casualties high, there was always a need for new recruits. More soldiers. Fresh blood. Especially fliers. But, even so, standards had to be met. So tryouts for hopefuls to get into the most prestigious units were held regularly at various government complexes. For those that knew what they were doing, and how to game the system, it was a perfect way of getting in without actually signing up for the military first. It was nearly a gimmick, but if you could prove good enough for the unit you wanted, it gave you far more leverage during contract negotiations when you did actually enlist. Or, if you didn’t have what it took, which was more often than not, it gave the hopeful an opportunity to tuck tail and run without getting siphoned off into whatever horrible general infantry unit needed bodies the most.

If Equestria wasn’t so desperate for replacements the practice would have never been allowed. But, it was, and Gearing took full advantage of it. Which is how he found himself in the tunnel of the Equestrian Defense Force’s administration building that lead to the outdoor track and field where the most recent round of tryouts just ended.

Like the other hopefuls, he’d been given the option for hanging around for a few hours while the scores are tallied and to receive an answer in person. The other option was to return home and await an official letter with his answer some time in the next week. No one was willing to wait that long that was serious about it. Gearing included. So he’d gone through the tunnel towards the inside area expecting to wait in the lounge reading whatever magazines they had available.

Instead he was stopped in route right after the first turn by three pegasi blocking his path. With another two coming up behind him and preventing his retreat back to the line of sight with the track outside.

Gearing backed up to a wall instinctively, and since then has been looking back and forth with his eyes waiting for their next move. He’d been in similar situations before, and quickly starts running through his various options. The five are easily recognizable to him. Although, to be fair, he’d probably recognize them better from behind. As each and every single one of them had blown him out of the water during the speed trials. His eyes zip around to each of them as he quickly runs the various scores attributed to each pegasi’s sash number. He’d been keeping an eye out for the competition, trying to gauge his own ability by measuring his own accomplishments to the others. An easy task for him given the sash they all had to wear had an easily noticeable number to keep track of who was who in the field and in the air.

And by his rough estimates, going on the theory that everything is weighted equally, he’s pretty sure he’s surrounded by five of the top six. And, depending on how things are weighted, these ponies may very well be the top five of this class of tryouts.

The brown buck in the middle of the three that’d blocked him steps closer as he points a hoof at Gearing. “Just what the fuck are you doing here?”

Gearing glances at him sideways and replies flatly, “I am on my way to the lounge to await my standing results.”

A chartreuse mare that’d came up to box him in steps closer as she shakes her head and points a hoof at Gearing. “We don’t mean where are you going… Why are you here at tryouts?! What’s a little mutant protectapony doing trying out for the Shadowbolts?!”

Gearing narrows his eyes as he directs his focus at the mare to his right. “I’m not some protectapony! And I think I got what it takes!” he practically growls as he looks up at her. He quickly zips his eyes around, looking at the others for fractions of a second as he goes from pony to pony to stay aware of what each one is doing as much as he can. The one thing she had right, in his opinion, and is objectively truthful, is the others are far bigger than he is. He was the smallest one of this tryout class. And a few of the others have him by a whole head height more than him at that.

A purple stallion to the brown bucks left steps forward as he mocks, “I’m notta protectapony. I can do it. I think I can I think I can I think I can…” He shakes his head and looks at the brown buck next to him as he asks, “What is this bullshit? I didn’t sign up for this.”

The gray mare to the brown bucks right hops in the air and starts fluttering around as she asks with a near whine, “Are you kidding me?! Just when I think they’ve had a high enough casualty rate that I might actually get in this time, and now they start turning out protectaponies to steal our jobs? This ain’t fair!” She scowls at Gearing and ruffles her feathers mid-flight in irritation.

A blueberry purple buck, the last member of the apparent ambush, paces back and forth from his spot as he glares at Gearing. “This has to be some kind of prototype. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never even heard of anything like it. It’s so small it’s probably fragile… those wings look like you flick them and they’d shatter.”

The chartreuse mare next to him tilts her head as she wonders out loud, “I wonder if the size is the reason why it can fly… I mean… yeah… it’s slow as molasses… but it still flies better than an earth pony.”

The purple stallion walks closer towards Gearing as he grins. “I bet if something happened to its freakish wings, they’d realize it’s hopeless and give up whatever earth pony mental jerk-off of a project spawned this thing…”

The gray mare folds her forelegs in front of herself as she huffs, “Why stop at the wings? Bust it up good and proper and they’ll see only real pegasi can do the job right…”

Gearing’s eyes jump over to hers as he grumbles, “I am a pegasus.”

The brown buck gets in his face as he taps a hoof on Gearing’s chest. “Who the fuck told you to talk, protectapony? Shut up while we figure out what to do with you.”

Gearing looks up at the buck a full head taller than him and glares back defiantly as he replies, “You’re not my boss, I’ll talk when I wish…” He raises up his right forehoof and shakes it in the face of his challenger. “And if you try anything I’ll clean your clock!”

The blueberry purple buck hops over and hits Gearing in the side of the head, as his focus was on the brown buck in front of him, and screams, “Sounds like an invitation to me!”

Gearing’s head rocks sideways a bit, making him have to readjust his footing from the full weighted impact. The purple buck stumbles around shaking his hoof as he lets out a cry of shock and pain. Gearing turns his head and looks at his attacker as his scowl slowly morphs into a sneering smirk. “You all might be faster than me… But I’m stronger and tougher than you!” He snaps his left wing out, helping to pull the brown buck closer to himself as he hops forward and hits him with his right hoof in such a way that it looks like he’s practically walking over the brown buck.

The hall devolves into pandemonium as all six of the pegasi start fighting. And it only gets worse as one light after another goes out from getting smashed by wayward debris or hooves.

The others have a noticeable speed advantage, but they are in a cramped tunnel that they can’t really maneuver in. Gearing, however, has the size advantage of having far more room to hop around relative to his size. The pegasi fight not only on the ground but up in the air as they throw out one strike after another at Gearing, and he actually uses the walls, ceiling, and floor to spring around his attackers as he lashes back at them for their ignorance and cruelty.

The brown buck catches an unlucky hit on his jaw from Gearing’s flailing foreleg and goes tumbling onto his side as he’s momentarily knocked into a haze. The gray mare and the blueberry purple buck jump at him from opposite sides, he flattens himself to duck under the gray mare as he spins around on his forehooves. Then, as the blueberry purple buck gets within range, Gearing bucks him with both hindhooves hard enough to send the blueberry purple buck sailing perpendicular to his flight path into the wall with a meaty thud before falling down to the ground in a heap.

The chartreuse mare and the purple stallion use the opportunity to pile onto Gearing, and start lashing at him with a variety of kicks from all four limbs simultaneously. At least as much as they can given the situation. Gearing screams in pain and frustration as the sound of breaking glass fills the hallway and he’s grounded under the onslaught. He grabs the chartreuse mare’s mane with his fetlock, and yanks her over, off him, and down into the ground, causing her scalp to bleed from a portion of it getting ripped out from the sudden force. He spins around, bucking the air feebly for a moment before partially leaning over and jumping into the wall backwards, smashing the purple stallion with his brassy mass and dislodging them and their grip on him.

He turns his attention to the brown buck that’d managed to get back up to his hooves, and is preparing to charge Gearing, only for Gearing to catch a blow from the side as a concrete trash can base slams into him at full force as the gray mare zips by and uses it as an improvised missile. Gearing’s scream changes pitch as the one wing that’d taken the full brunt of the impact implodes inwards, metal warping and crystals flying in every direction as the wing shatters.

The gray mare lets out a whoop of excitement at the effectiveness of her strike, only to almost fall to the ground in shock as Gearing’s face changes from pain to a scathing ode to menace as he grabs the trash can and lifts it in the air above his head to throw it at her, with nothing more than his right fetlock. “Trash my wing, will ya?! Let’s see how you like it!” he bellows as he winds up for the pitch.

“What the hay’s going on down here?!” a mare’s voice demands from the shadows nearby, on the deeper in portion of the tunnel, where all of the lights had become collateral damage during the fight and been smashed.

Everyone freezes and the fight comes to a dead stop as they look in the direction of the source of the voice.

The other five pegasi seem to start coming back to their senses as their malicious intent gives way to looks of fear. From Gearing’s perspective it seems they finally thought their entire situation over, and, even though they’d be wrong, they seem to realize the downside to being caught damaging government prototypes.

Gearing carefully sets down the trash can as he looks at the silhouette in the dark and his eyes slowly grow to their widest. The voice is familiar, but he can’t believe it would be them. He’s just never been that lucky for it to be true.

A scowling cyan pegasus walks into the light from the dark in her Shadowbolt officer’s uniform as her magenta eyes jump from one hopeful to the next. “Somepony better start talking soon… just look at this mess… I’m sure not cleaning all this up!”

No one says anything for a few moments, which is way longer than she was willing to wait for an answer. And that point is made clear when she yells out, “I asked you recruits a question! You better answer, that’s an order!”

The other five pegasi look at each other as they get exceedingly nervous. The purple stallion closes his eyes as he looks off to the side. “Given I haven’t enlisted yet… I’m not in the military and don’t have to follow that order… And I don’t think saying anything would help my case…”

The gray mare bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood before she weakly waves towards him and mutters, “What he said.”

The cyan pegasus brushes her chromatic mane with a forehoof as she sighs, “Well, that’s a career ender before it even started. Not wanting to answer a simple question is a stupid reason to get barred from service…”

Gearing shakes off the haze of being starstruck before he snaps to attention and salutes as he replies, “Ma’am, Rainbow Dash Ma’am, it was a fight involving six Shadowbolt hopefuls. No actual personnel were involved. The fight was over scores and standings, ma’am. I believe I may have injured a few of my classmates and they are in need of medical treatment, ma’am.”

Rainbow Dash trails her eyes over the others, but settles on Gearing as he speaks. Her hard scowl softens a little as she actually smiles at his performance. She shakes her head and asks, “The smallest among you is the one with the most guts?” She shakes her head again and snickers before she looks at the others. “Take your friends to the medical bay while I have a word with this one.”

The others look at each other warily and seem to be on the verge of objecting again before the scowl returns to Rainbow Dash’s face as she snaps, “That wasn’t a suggestion… do it, now, or you’re all under arrest. You may not be in the military yet, but you are still on government property… So get!”

The three less injured ones zip around in the air for a moment before hurrying up and helping to cart off their injured co-conspirators. The blueberry purple stallion seems to have gotten the worst of it as his side has two noticeable dents in it, even with his fur, and he’s having a hard time breathing as he’s carried off to medical.

After they have disappeared, Dash takes in the view of the area and seems noticeably impressed by the destruction. She looks around at the ground, sees the smattering of blood, bits of metal, and crystal everywhere and lets out a light whistle at the combined devastation that had been unleashed. She trails her eyes back to focus on Gearing and asks, “You okay?”

Gearing salutes and grins as his eyes practically sparkle from seeing his idol. “Yes, Ma’am, Dash Ma’am! Never better!”

Rainbow Dash looks him over, lingering on his numbered sash for a moment, and gets a sour look on her face. “Do not lie to me, soldier.” She waves a hoof around at the debris covered ground. “There’s pieces of you everywhere… you gave as good as you got, which is saying something considering there was five of them. But drop the bravado, I want the truth, recruit.”

Gearing’s smile slowly fades from his face. He tries to keep it on there as long as possible, but it randomly twitches and fails until it entirely crumbles out of existence. He lowers his hoof and directs his face down at the ground before looking up at her with just his eyes. “I know one of my wings are broken. I think the other one is too… And I have a lot of other damage to the rest of me that I don’t know how to explain to you, Ma’am.” He stares up at Rainbow Dash, who’s already much taller than he is, but currently seems even more imposing as she looms over him and looks him over carefully, as he awaits for her to come to whatever decision she seems like she’s thinking about.

Her eyes jump around from one brass plate to the next as she screws up her face from one side to the other while she looks like she’s trying to sort through a difficult puzzle that was sprung on her. After a few moments of apparently trying to figure it, and him, out, she comments with a wave of her hoof down the tunnel, “Nopony told me anything about sending you for tryouts. Do you need help getting to the repair bay?”

Gearing, despite his fanatical adoration of Rainbow Dash, while entirely out of character for a fanboy of the famous mare, and surprisingly so for someone that just took the concentrated beating of five young pegasi, screams out like he has never done in his life in response. The unfairness of it all bellowing out of him like a dragon’s roar. Taking the abuse he’s had to go through from others throughout his life was bad enough. Abuse both mental, with the constant questioning of his equinity and marginalization of his very right to exist, to the physical harm from such exemplary beatings by bigots like the one he just suffered through, was bad enough. But he could handle it. He could take it. He could endure. Bigots are going to bigot after all. But this was beyond anything he could withstand. Not Dash. Not his idol too. She was better than that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if it turned out she was just as bad as the bastards that just broke so much of him. Unlike anyone else in the world, she held the power to truly break his heart.

And it was just too much for him to hold in anymore.

So he screamed. He screamed at someone he never thought he’d get to meet, let alone speak to. He screamed in a way he’d never imagined he would. With a loud screech that miraculously transformed the pain from his very soul into sufficiently heart wrenching tones that echo down the tunnel. And, he knows without a doubt, if he was more pony-like than he is, he’d do it with so many tears in his eyes that he wouldn’t even be able to see anymore. But, he’s cursed. And the universe is cruel. Especially to him.

So Gearing’s even denied the tears that he should be shedding as he wails, “I’m a buck! Not some damn machine!”

Dash’s eyes shoot open to their fullest, in genuine shock, as she takes a step back in recoil at the pure force unleashed with his cry of anguish.

But, this time is not like he had previously experienced with such universal frustrations regarding his life. This time he was not screaming into the uncaring void. And it did not fall on deaf ears.

For Rainbow Dash was listening.

She takes a tentative step towards him, and gently uses her hoof on the underside of his chin to direct his downcast gaze to look her in the eyes. They exchange a lengthy eye contact, as the two seem to try and process what they should do next, before she asks, “Would you come with me so we can talk? I want to know about you. You can tell me about yourself while we get you looked at.”

He raises an eyebrow, and his focus jumps from one of her magenta eyes to the other as he waits for the universe to drop its stereotypically unfunny punch line on him.

Seemingly guessing his uneasiness with her request, she gives him a light smile as she starts, “Well… Because…” she tilts her head and grins widely as she finishes with a nod, “Because I think you’re awesome!”

Gearing’s eyes shoot to their widest, and practically sparkle. His mouth opens a crack in a slight smile but he’s unable to say anything for a few moments as he stares off into nothing.

Somewhere in the distance, a diamond dog clamps his paws over his ears and starts howling in pain at the loud high pitched noise of Gearing’s squee.

After a few moments, and getting no apparent response from Gearing, she waves a hoof in front of his eyes. “Uhhh, you okay, recruit? Did you pass out on me?”

Gearing pulls away lightly and shakes his head. “No, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!” His head jerks to look both ways as his wings partially drag on the ground. “Which way to medical?”

Rainbow Dash looks at him for a few moments, then asks, “Medical? You need a doctor?”

He looks at her sheepishly and grinds a hoof into the stone floor tile under him. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. And… simple bandages don’t work for me. Only magic does.” He looks off to the side hoping he won’t be cast out by his specific needs.

She looks off in the direction the other five pegasi had went as she scrunches up her face in thought. A moment later she nods and starts trotting down the tunnel, in the opposite direction that the other youth had gone. “Follow me, recruit, I know where to go.”

Gearing does so, eagerly. He’s so lost in thought of the excitement of getting a personal escort by a living legend that he doesn’t pay much attention to the twists and turns they take as she leads him deeper into the complex. However, after a few minutes of blindly following her he stops dead in his tracks, staring at a sign above a doorway that Dash had just went right through. He stares at it for a few moments, and his eyes jump back and forth between it and Dash.

Dash, apparently quickly noticing the lack of a second set of hooves clicking down the hall, spins around and asks as she can see his hooves rooted in place, “Recruit, why have you stopped?”

Gearing points at the sign above the door and says sheepishly, “Officers only, ma’am.”

She zips out, looks at the sign, and blows it off with a wave of her hoof and a nicker. “You’re acting under my orders. If they have anything to say about it, they have to deal with me.”

Gearing swallows hard with an audible gulp, but still looks around nervously and doesn’t move.

Rainbow Dash walks past him, braces both of her forehooves on the ground then, like a slow motion buck, plants a hind hoof on each of his flanks, and gives a hard buck, sliding him the last few feet through the door. “I said move it, recruit!”

He skids to a halt, then spins sideways and salutes as he says, “Ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!”

She trots back in and asks with a chuckle as she passes him, “Buck, you are heavy! Those wings for decoration, or can you actually fly?”

Gearing salutes again. “I can fly, Dash ma’am!” He fans out his wings, and gives a choke as he tries to flap them downwards. The right side wing imploding on itself, buckling incorrectly and hinging unnaturally mid-length. He winces and gingerly folds the ruined things he calls wings tightly to himself as he mutters out apologies.

She turns around and looks at him in horror. “Recruit! That was a simple question! I like the enthusiasm, but we can’t use you if you permanently cripple yourself! Don’t use your wings again until you’re cleared by the doctor, that’s an order, recruit!”

Gearing salutes again and puts on the same stoic face he had previously. “Ma’am! Yes, ma’am!” Rainbow Dash smirks as she watches him and seems to be enjoying the bit as much, or more, than Gearing is.

They continue down the hall, with Gearing’s wings crinkling and tinkling as he moves. Every now and then another piece of the seemingly stained glass fragments of his wings come loose, falls away, and goes skidding across the floor. After a few more moments, Dash turns and opens up a door abruptly.

A startled stallion yells from inside. “Who the hell- Oh… It’s you… would you please knock next time? I don’t need a sudden gust of wind scattering my paperwork or ruining an experiment.”

Rainbow Dash gives a shrug and a grin in reply, completely not caring. And, from the roll of the cream colored unicorn’s eyes, it’s not the first time he’s received such complete dismissal at the exact same request. A moment later he asks, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

She rears up a bit, giving just enough wing power to almost hover, as she claps her forehooves together and says with excitement in her voice, “Crème, I gotta show you something awesome!” She pokes her head back through the door, then beckons Gearing inside.

Gearing walks in slowly, his head held low, as he isn’t quite sure what to make of the situation. As he crosses the threshold, he sees most of the walls of this apparent lab are covered in shelves and various cabinetry. The visible shelves are all crammed full of a mass of books, paperwork, and equipment for the lab. Most of the interior of the room is open space, with a couple chemistry labs set up on stands and tables, and a large heavy-duty table set low to the ground in the center that has a bright swinging light installed on a mechanical arm over it.

The unicorn adjusts the glasses at the end of his nose and asks as he starts stepping closer to examine the new arrival. “And… just what do we have here?”

Rainbow Dash looks at Crème, with both forehooves pointed out at Gearing, her mouth agape, and uncontrollable excitement etched over her face. But says nothing. Her mouth hangs there, wide open, in the exact same excited expression as she’d started speaking with.

Soundless, as the seconds tick by and nothing further happens.

She turns her focus towards Gearing and grins wider. “How abouuut… you introduce yourself?”

Gearing grins back and then obediently steps forward while looking at the unicorn. He opens his mouth wide, with his head tilted, as he points a hoof at himself and closes his eyes. But, like Rainbow Dash, nothing comes out. He closes his mouth, and tilts his head as he slowly starts rolling his eyes over and up to look at the ceiling.

Tick. Tick. CLICK.

He turns his head to look at Rainbow Dash with his lips pursed to the side. She stares back with a grin, but one that slowly becomes slightly forced, and a bit sheepish.

He turns towards Rainbow Dash, sits down as properly as he can, and bows his head a moment before he comes back up and looks her in the eye. “Ma’am, my name’s Gearing. And I’m a recruit hopeful for the Shadowbolts.”

Crème snorts a laugh and Dash sheepishly shrugs as, despite whatever anyone might say, it got done anyway. And, after all, results were all that mattered, by her measure, not the unimportant details.

Crème walks over and starts examining Gearing from various angles as he comments, “You seem to be quite damaged-”

“Injured,” Dash quickly interrupts.

Crème looks at her sideways over his glasses, then at Gearing with an eyebrow slightly tilted. “That is what I meant, of course.”

Gearing, deciding he’s actually had a rather pleasant day, probably one of the best of his life, elects to spare them both the embarrassment and trouble of having to ask about him. So, he volunteers, “I’m a clockwork. Don’t try to think too hard about it. Simply put, I’m a pegasus that’s been cursed.”

They both look at each other, with Dash obviously expecting Crème to fill in the gaps and translate for her, and then back at Gearing. Crème finally responds with a raised eyebrow and a scientific tone of finality, “Curses aren’t real. The magic sciences have easily disproved such superstitious nonsense the zebra keep spouting. It’s all well documented, repeatable, testable, and I can assure you there’s nothing supernatural about it.”

Gearing rolls his eyes, and thumps a hoof against his metallic chest. “Then explain me!”

This begins a long conversation between the three as Crème and Rainbow Dash try to honestly understand his condition. Each one offering up additional questions or suggestions as the time goes on and they try to wrap their brains around what he actually is. Normally, he’d feel really annoyed by all of this attention. It’s happened so many times before already, and certainly won’t be the last of it, that he’d usually cut them off with the first round of lead in questions or statements. He’s developed a fine-tuned sense for whenever any questions come anywhere near his equinity and he doesn’t take kindly to it. Normally. But, he just can’t be cross when one of those interested in him is Rainbow Dash. A living legend. His personal hero and an exemplary moral compass for how everypony should act. She’s one of the, if not thee, most genuine ponies he’s ever met. If she didn’t care at all, she’d have left long ago. She’d have gotten bored, and left to find something more interesting to do. But, no, she’s stayed right there, sometimes hovering around, sometimes sitting. All the while engaging him in conversation all about himself.

Eventually the conversation comes back around to the point he’d been dragged there in the first place: his injuries.

Dash looks at Crème and asks with her hooves folded across her chest, “So, how can we fix him?”

Crème runs a hoof through the back of his mane as he eyeballs a variety of supplies sitting on the surrounding shelves. “I have some mini torches… We could call down to maintenance to send up a bot?”

Dash cringes and looks sideways at Gearing, apparently expecting another shockwave inducing outburst. However, she’s pleasantly surprised by his tempered response.

“Crème. That won’t work. I told you already. I’m a pegasus…” The blank stare directed at him annoys him more than anything, so he offers, “If you have a healing potion, even a weak one, I can show you and prove it to you. It has to be magical though.”

Dash zips around in a cyan blur and reappears over by a cabinet as she starts rummaging around through a variety of vials on the shelves and in the cabinets.

Crème runs over and chases her away with shooing motions of his forehooves. “Don’t go messing with my chemicals! You’ll kill us all!” Having saved himself from an over-enthusiastic Dash chemical fire, he trots over to one of the spots on the wall not covered by a cabinet. He opens up a shiny, freshly painted, metal box attached to the wall, with the familiar three butterflies on a cross adorning the lid, and sorts through the various supplies that are inside.

Crème comes back and sets down a bottle of thick purple liquid in front of Gearing with his levitation field, then sits back and watches with a raised eyebrow. “Okay then… Here you go. Show us this ‘curse’ you’re talking about.”

Gearing grabs the bottle with a hoof, and pops the top. He gives it a long slow sniff, and can’t help but lick his lips at the sweet effervescence coming out. Of the few things that have any real taste to them for Gearing, magical potions have the most pungent of them all in his experience. By now he’s suspected that it may be the magic in the potion itself that he’s tasting, and that, possibly, it’s able to break through the curses numbing effects on his body to give him just that slight glimmer of light. Though, being a small pegasus with limited resources, he’s not really been able to put any of those theories to the test reliably. He looks at the two, raises the bottle in a silent toast to their health, and starts downing the entire thing by tilting his head back and slamming the vial’s contents as quickly as he can.

Crème leans over as Gearing guzzles down the liquid, looking at the small pegasus closely. His eyes travel down Gearing’s throat and across his length, paying careful attention to his abdomen and belly. His eyes dart around, looking for something. But, oddly, to him at least, no fluid appears. Despite the apparent many gaps in Gearing’s body, for moving parts can’t possibly be water tight, none of the fluid escapes. With his eyes so close, he freezes in place, and watches in amazement at what unfolds before his eyes. Literally in a couple cases. One of the plates that had been bucked in during the fight, slowly pops out and reforms itself. A few of the gears in a section of Gearing’s abdomen reorient themselves and start moving more fluidly, and in line with each other, as Gearing slowly moves his body to give the individual pieces the space they need.

Crème pulls back, and looks over his glasses at Gearing’s face in complete bewilderment. Only to be shocked even more by the massive grin Gearing is giving him. More so at the realization that Gearing’s right eye seems to be looking at him far more clearly than it had a moment ago. He didn’t have a basis to judge it on, but he now realizes that the eye had been severely damaged given how it currently has nice neat geometric patterns to it.

Dash slowly sinks to the ground as her wings slow their fluttering, her mouth agape at what’s happened. Her eyes zip around from point to point in typical Rainbow Dash speed as she watches Gearing’s body seemingly automatically repair itself from a single potion. She looks at Crème and points a hoof at Gearing, saying nothing. She pulls it back then throws out both forehooves at Gearing as she exclaims, “Did you see that?!” She zips around in a circle and grins widely. “That was awesome! Holy crap! He’s got his own self-repairing armor!”

Crème smirks at Dash with a shake of his head before he looks Gearing over some more, eventually settling his gaze to look into Gearing’s eyes. After a few moments of this stare off, with Gearing not blinking, he asks, “Feel better?”

Gearing nods rapidly. Though such actions knock loose a few pieces of stained glass that clatter down to the floor. Crème stares at the pieces on the floor for a moment and then looks back at Gearing. “You need more healing, don’t you?”

Gearing looks down and grinds a hoof into the floorboards. “I can heal on my own… but it’ll take a long while to recover from this.” He looks over at Dash sheepishly and says, “But I could use some more magical healing, if you can spare it.”

Dash looks at him for a few moments and hops up and down a few times as she keeps looking him over excitedly. “You said you were here to tryout, right?”

Gearing nods, shaking loose yet another piece. “Uh huh!”

Dash turns to look at Crème just long enough to say, “Get him healed up, I’ll be right back!” then she zips out of the office, causing a tornado of paperwork to flutter into the air behind her and out of the door.

Crème doesn’t even care. He doesn’t even notice the variety of paperwork becoming so much over sized confetti littering the ground out and into the hallway as he stares at the small pegasus shaped puzzle in front of his very eyes.

Crème looks Gearing over as he adjusts his glasses on the end of his nose and asks, “Only potions? Or any magical healing?”

Gearing shrugs. “I just know that normal bandages do nothing. And some herbal mixes work, while others don’t…”

Crème steps close and grins as his eyes light up. “Want to try some experimentation? See what we can do for you?”

Gearing tilts his head momentarily in thought, but then hops up onto his hooves happily. “Sure!”

Crème leads him to the table in the center, and has Gearing lay down. It takes a bit of coaxing to get Gearing to comply, and more than a few promises that the table is even stronger than it looks. His horn glows and a variety of books come sliding out of different shelves and lay out onto various stands that he’s pulled out with the same golden glow. The stands set up on the floor and table, with the books landing on them and all opening to various pages as he glances at them for reference. He waves his glowing horn around, first starting with Gearing’s mangled wing. Crème tries a variety of spells, but is frustrated by a few of his attempts. However, others give him a lot of hope and encouragement. Once he stopped thinking of the wing’s framework as metal, and started trying to mentally picture bones in its place instead, the spells started working fantastically.

During this whole time of trial and error Gearing’s laid there, as still as he could manage, and only grunting every now and then. All while not saying anything, nor screaming.

Crème quickly starts feeling bad for Gearing. All of the spells that would give a typical pony the sweet relief of anesthetic have no affect on him. He doesn’t know why, but he suspects that the term ‘curse’ is rearing its ugly head again. Sweat forms on his brow as he waves his horn as a detector and continues registering more and more damage.

The more he becomes familiar with Gearing’s particular anatomy, the more he becomes familiar with the spell’s effect and usage on him. And the more he becomes familiar with the spell’s effects on Gearing, the more it’s able to tell him.

And, from what he can tell, Gearing must be in a lot of pain.

After some effort he’s able to straighten out Gearing’s wings, both of them, and fix them so that they no longer grind when he folds them. He telekinetically tucks them at Gearing’s sides, and uses a few bandages, of the magical variety, to wrap and bind them to his sides. Before Gearing is even close to being finished recovering, Crème is already panting and feeling dizzy.

As he lays on the table, Gearing raises a hoof towards Crème and says softly, “Thank you. But, it’s alright. I’ll be okay. Take a rest. I’m not worth it.”

Crème’s eyes open to their fullest and he snorts in disgust. He stomps over to the medical supply box, empties the rest of its contents out, and sets it all down in front of Gearing. He organizes the supplies in an array and looks at Gearing through his glasses. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, young buck…” He grabs a syringe of Med-X with his weakening magical field and says flatly, “Open your mouth.”

Gearing looks at the syringe with his eyes wide, but then slowly complies as he meets the stare of Crème.

Crème uses his magic and points the needle deep inside Gearing’s throat, and hits the plunger, squirting all of the fluid out in one go.

Gearing shivers, shudders, and clamps his mouth as he starts working his tongue around after Crème has pulled the syringe far enough away. Crème looks him over a bit before he asks, “Well?”

Gearing looks at him, and tilts his head, then shrugs lightly. The wince in his face when his wings moved with the action tells Crème exactly what he didn’t want to hear: it didn’t work.

Next he tosses out a few pills from the Buck bottle and pops them in Gearing’s mouth. “Chew and swallow quickly.”

Gearing does as instructed, and has a lot of trouble getting the chalky substance down his throat. He grabs a bottle of water nearby, takes a swig, and swishes it around in his mouth, before swallowing it and looking at Crème for his next instructions.

“Well?” Crème asks again.

Gearing tilts his head and says, “Tastes… bitter? I think bitter’s the word?”

Crème looks at him for a few moments then shakes his head with a sigh. “Boy, we’re going to have a lot of fun trying to figure you out…” He sits down, and pushes the healing potions he’d brought towards Gearing with a hoof. “Start drinking these… Work from left to right…” While Gearing is still trying to sort that out, Crème uses his magic to wrap Gearing with the remaining two magically enhanced bandages. Both of which get allocated and used on the same badly mangled wing that had been on the receiving end of an improvised concrete trash can projectile.

When Dash returns flying through the door with a folder tucked under her foreleg, she takes in the sight of Gearing sitting on the table, nursing a healing potion and surrounded by empty bottles like some barfly drowning his sorrows in Wild Pegasus. She trails her eyes slowly, carefully, over Gearing’s form and notices that, despite looking almost like a mummy, Gearing is looking remarkably better. The crystals in his wings have regrown with the magical assistance he’s received, practically glittering in spots where they’re peeking through gaps in the bandages, and his hide is steadily taking on a sheen that rivals most armor plating fresh off the assembly line.

After taking in the progress she lands on the side near Crème before tossing the folder onto the table next to Gearing. But, if her speed, or more accurately lack of, is any indicator, she doesn’t have quite the same amount of gusto as when she’d left. In fact her expression is hard to read at the moment.

Crème looks at her and motions with his head towards Gearing. “This one’s interesting for sure…”

Dash glances at Crème and nods, then turns to look at Gearing. “You said you wanted to be a Shadowbolt. Right?”

Gearing pulls the last bottle away from his lips enough to nod quickly. “Yes, Ma’am! I want to keep everypony safe, like you do!”

“Well, those are your results…” Dash points a hoof at the folder and asks, “Care to have a look?”

Gearing looks down at the folder and sees the giant red stamp ‘Top Secret’ across its surface and debates if he should. He’s sure he shouldn’t even be in the same room as this file, let alone cracking it open.

Dash, having gotten no real response, offers, “Well, I’ll save you the time. I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it.”

Gearing’s head hangs from his neck as he looks down at the ground. He tried. He had tried his best. He even strained some things during a few of the tests to try and show he was worthy. Yes, it’s true, his speed was lacking, but he’s sure not a normal pegasi alive could match his strength. He knew he was top of his class in that category at least. Even though that’s something more for the category of an earth pony to be proud of, he’s still glad and proud to have that much going for him at least. But this? This hurts.

Dash sits down and huffs as she angrily folds her forelegs across her chest. “I don’t like it at all!” she repeats. “It’s clear that they had no intention of letting you join, regardless of scores…” She hops over, grabs the folder, and flips it open to an ear marked page and shows Crème. “You see this?! A whole page talking about not trusting ‘automatons’ for these kinds of jobs. A recommendation for ‘it’ to be decommissioned or sent to guard some warehouse somewhere… even went so far as to say that the programming seems to be off.”

Crème reads a different passage aloud, “’… complaints from recruits, and officers alike, wanting to know since when they have to compete with earth pony Arcano-tech to get a job.’? They can’t be serious.”

The more Gearing hears the more he wants to scream, and he’s having a hard time fighting his impulse. So, instead, he downs the rest of the potion, and then he starts chugging the large jug of water nearby. If his muzzle is full enough of water, it can’t fill up with the various curses and obscenities that are trying to pour out of him.

Dash looks at Gearing and says flatly, “Gearing, I’m sorry, but we can’t use you in the Shadowbolts.”

Gearing chokes on the water, and it spews out of his muzzle and nose alike like some out of control fountain. Having been holding back his scream, and getting jarred by the announcement, he’s left hacking up the water as it’d gone down an unintended passage. And, eventually, he just lets it drain out of his mouth and sinuses as he hangs his head over the side of the table and tries his best not to cry.

Gearing closes his eyes and thinks bitterly, Nothing like trying to prove your worth, only to find out that you’re worthless.

Dash sits down and folds her forelegs again as she regards him. “Do you know why?” Gearing says nothing, so she repeats, “I asked you a question, recruit.”

Gearing shakes his head, successfully getting startled out of his funk, as he continues sending the dribbling water down to the floor. This is the closest he’s ever been to even appearing to cry normally. “No, Ma’am.”

Dash taps on the folder with a hoof. “You’re too slow.”

Gearing lifts his head up, and raises an eyebrow as he tries to figure out her angle. She’s already crushed his dreams, now she’s apparently wanting to kick dirt in his face while he’s down to boot. But he’s sure that can’t be it. Dash is Dash. She wouldn’t do that, he’s sure.

She opens up the folder to another page and shows his numerical results, paired up with the averages from the past and of the current class. “I’m not some egghead, but according to this. You’re just too damn slow.” She looks up at him. “The Shadowbolts focus on quick hit operations. Agility. Speed. That’s the team’s specialty. That’s their strength…” She points a hoof at him. “But, that’s where you’re at your weakest.”

Gearing takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh as the last of the water gets blown out of his lungs. He figures it may be horseapples, but at least it’s a lot kinder way of doing it. She’s still doing him a service. And he’s grateful for it. He dips his head towards her as he says softly, “Well… thank you for your consideration. I’ll… I’ll show myself out.” He gets up and hops down off the table, and then starts walking slowly around it towards the door.

“Does it have to be the Shadowbolts, Gearing?”

Gearing turns his head to look at Rainbow Dash as she stares at him with a raised eyebrow and her hooves folded in front of herself. “What do you mean?” Gearing asks softly. He can’t think of anything else that he’d rather be doing with his life. Working with Rainbow Dash. Saving Equestria. It’s the kind of thing that he feels he was born for. The kind of thing that would give justification to the torment he’s gone through during his life.

Dash shrugs then points a hoof at him. “You said you wanted to be able to save everypony… Does it have to be with the Shadowbolts?”

Gearing tilts his head. Considering her for a few moments as everything she’s said replays in his mind’s eye.

Tick. Tick. CLICK.

He shakes his head then says, “I don’t know where I’d fit in… but…” He looks off to the side and says sheepishly, “I’d work anywhere, if it was with you, Rainbow Dash, ma’am.” His eyes pop open and he looks at Dash with his jaw dropped as he suddenly realizes how that sounded.

Crème doesn’t help matters any as he chuckles and snorts in amusement.

Dash turns her head and smirks, then elbows Crème in his side. She stands up straight and presents a hoof towards Gearing. “Then I would like to officially welcome you to the Ministry of Awesome! You won’t be working with the Shadowbolts. But you will be working for me. It won’t be easy, I can promise you that. Do you accept, recruit?”

Gearing sails over the table in a single pounce, grabbing her hoof with both of his as he grins and shakes her hoof enthusiastically. “Yes! Whatever you need!”

Crème looks at the two then asks with a hushed tone as he leans towards Dash, “They’ve blackballed him… you know that.”

Dash waves it off. “Luna put me in charge. Nothing and nopony gets into the ministry without my approval. And only things that are awesome get in.” She looks at Gearing and gives him an even wider grin. “And Gearing’s awesome!” She hops back and starts shadow boxing all around herself. “I mean he took on five of those top recruits, and was winning! Like pow, bop! And oh man does he have a mean left! He’s heavy weight class! It was like watching a … a… a mini Big Mac! And he just wouldn’t give up! Like some sort of non quitting thing. He’s got that certain can-do stick-to-it kind of spirit!”

“Tenacity?” Crème offers.

Dash looks at him and says, “Gesundheit,” before turning to look back at Gearing. Her eyes spring to their widest as she says gleefully, “He’s likeTank!”

Crème raises an eyebrow and asks, “I thought we’ve already been educated to the fact that he’s not some machine, that he’s a pegasus?”

Dash shakes her head quickly and points a hoof at Gearing. “No, not a tank. Tank, my pet tortoise.” She looks at Gearing again and grins. “He didn’t give up despite the odds either.” She folds her forehooves across her chest as she nods and continues with her eyes closed, “They’re both kind of slow, but tough as can be… and… “She starts giggling before she looks over at Crème and adds with a grin, “If either of them hit you in the head, I guarantee you’re going to have a bad day and get a concussion!”

Gearing freezes in his hooves again, coming to an absolute standstill with his eyes going to their widest while they practically sparkle as he looks up at the much taller pair. Joy. Pure, unhindered, unmasked joy. The past be damned, right now he’s experiencing true bliss.

Crème shakes his head and points at Gearing, who’s still in a near catatonic bliss-fueled state, and asks, “And just what’s he going to be doing then? If not the Shadowbolts, then where?”

Dash looks at him for a moment, and a smug grin adorns her face before she shrugs. “I dunno. I’ll figure that out later.” She spins around rapidly in place and flops down on her rear as she slaps her hooves against her own cheeks and smooshes them together. She throws her hooves out towards Gearing and says with the glee of a sudden thought, “Pinkie’s going to love you!” She hops back and forth on her hindhooves as she claps her forehooves together rapidly. “Ooohhh I’m getting sooo many ideas!”

The sky always has, and always will, held a special place in the hearts of pegasi. There is something fundamentally right about being in the air, woven into their very core. Some see it as a bit of freedom, the ability to travel and just be of their own will and power. There is some morbid thrill of being able to, with each and every pump of their wings, deny death. Defy gravity itself. All with a flippant wave of their wings and a smile upon their face.

And, even as different as he was from other pegasi, Gearing objectively shared this trait with his winged brethren. Though, as much as he enjoyed being in the air simply for the sake of flying and nothing else, that’s not why he’d taken to the skies in this instance.

Yes, there was the need to keep a lookout for threats to his precious convoy below. Yes, flying above would give him a decided advantage, courtesy of a clear line of sight for quite a distance, for picking out such threats. And, yes, he could easily strategize, with relative impunity, against anypony stupid enough to attack this convoy simply because those bound to the ground don’t typically look directly above themselves all that often without reason or prompting. But, no, to say he’d only taken to the skies for the tactical advantage of providing overwatch would be a lie. Because what he truly wanted, needed really, was time. Time and distance.

Time to think, and distance from the convoy itself.

He needed to be away from Nahlah at the moment, because what she’d said, regardless of intentions, had struck a nerve with him. With a single statement of logical resignation, she’d opened up wounds that never healed properly the first time. And, in doing so, he needed time to figure things out for himself. In silence. And solitude.

And the skies mercifully still granted that, though they no longer provided the warm sun he had been used to since foalhood.

So, as his eyes continuously survey the convoy’s route, and the surrounding areas, his mind has started churning on processing a nagging question. And all of the tangled mess that such a wide net dredges up from his history. It’s widely known that sometimes the simplest seeming of questions can have the most convoluted of answers.

So when the little blue pegasus in Gearing’s head had simply asked in exasperation, How the hell did we wind up in this situation? Gearing’s mind tore off on a circuit around the world of his mind’s eye’s universe. And, because of the way Gearing’s mind typically works, starting at the beginning was the only real choice.

And everything in Gearing’s mind pointed giant neon signs towards the day he agreed to work for Rainbow Dash as the undisputed champion of the beginning of how he found himself where he is currently. For as convoluted as his career, and life, had become, it was undeniable that the ignition point was when he tried out for the elite unit known as The Shadowbolts. Failed to get in. And, instead, was accepted directly into the Ministry of Awesome by, and under, Rainbow Dash herself.

So as he’s rapidly preoccupying himself with thinking about his career’s origins, in detail, he lets his eyes do the practically automatic process of looking for anypony, anycreature, or any threat to his charge.

In doing so he’s managed to keep his mind out of the gutter of dark thoughts that are creeping along the edges of his mind and trying to fill him with shame. Thoughts that hop in front of his mind’s eye like some annoying fool that keeps jumping in front of the projector and ruining the image at the cinema.

Thoughts like how he’s terrified, on a primal level, of four foals that, combined, weigh less than his left foreleg.

He’s managed to not put in his PipBuck’s ear pieces, and draws a bit of simplistic pride in the fact that he had managed to maintain composure, and simply rose higher in the air, when the first notes of some random song rose up to meet him. Instead of zipping up in a panic and not stopping until he’d managed to hide in a cloud. Or the moon. Or among the stars themselves.

He has deep reservations about anypony having the kind of power they are flippantly wielding. To him, this is tantamount to giving a foal a balefire bomb and telling them to have fun. Dangerous isn’t even an adequate enough word for it.

But, on the logical side of things, and, luckily for him, that has always been the dominant side of his psyche, he realizes that the kids don’t actually seem bad. After the initial panic, and some thought, he’d realized that, if they really were ‘that bad’ they would be using their abilities left, right, and center, and there’s not much anyone could do against them. He has a wingspan’s length list of names of individuals who, given the chance, would exploit the abilities these children have to their maximum potential.

But the children don’t, and the realization of their restraint fills Gearing with hope. However, he knows, deep down, only time will be able to tell for certain how good they are. And Gearing’s not much of a gambler. If he’s going to roll dice, he’s going to make sure they are properly loaded and tossed just right to get the results he desires.

Which means he’s going to make sure these foals get the best role models and guidance possible. Guidance to become good pony adults. Role models for what to strive for in their life. And, in doing so, give them a thorough education in common decency for their fellow creatures.

And, by his measure, Swift has got to be one of the best examples of it around. Her brash nature aside, she’s an individual with a good heart. Demonstrated again and again. With her care of foals that aren’t even hers. That she’d never even met previously and had no link to her what-so-ever. With her sense of sportsmanship with Goldfish at the Freight Cars’ fight arenas. Then, on top of all of that, given what he knows of her background, she knows all about being serious with discretion, when the time calls for it. And discretion will be a very important lesson for the foals. Thus making Swift uniquely qualified to provide guidance for them since she already has such a strong rapport with them.

Though it was no surprise to him, considering he’d been anxiously expecting it, it still jarred him when the first notes of some new song the foals started singing reached his ears. Before even registering what was being said, or done, he quickly slapped the ear pieces from his PipBuck into his ears as he gained altitude. A moment later, and after his conscious mind actually has time to process what had happened, he realizes the song wasn’t like the one previously. He slowly lowers himself closer to them as he strains to hear what is being said.

While grumbling to himself about losing the composure he’d just congratulated himself on maintaining not long ago.

He follows the kids for a short period, and watches with interest as the foals seem to bop along to the song, with Nahlah waving weakly with one paw from her perch across Sable’s back. He has a hard, if not impossible, time hearing any of it. But the children, as far as he can tell, seem to start marching in unison keeping up some kind of beat with their hooves as they are going. He catches bits and pieces of the lyrics, and, at least as far as he can tell, it is some kind of nearly childish rhyme about beating up anyone that comes close to them.

“… run, run! Flee, flee! Doom hath come for thee…”

He’s amused at first, but a little concerned and quickly pulls back up and away from the sound. It doesn’t miss his notice that, despite hearing it, it seemed to have zero effect on him. At least that he can tell. So he’s not sure if it’s a ‘normal’ song, as Swift had commented and previously requested, or maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a target this time. Or, possibly, was actually excluded, intentionally, from its effects.

He’s not sure, and is only left guessing and grasping at straws as he puzzles it over.

However, after following them for a bit longer at this distance, he spots a few radroaches in the middle of the road further up the path. Not exactly a real threat in such small numbers, but more than he’s willing to have close to Sable and the others. He checks their distance using the debris as a guide, and aims at them with his rifle’s scope as he starts to hover. But, he doesn’t shoot. Because, as he’s watching, the radroaches seem to pivot in unison, and look straight down the road to where the convoy is approaching from. Then, in a move that completely boggles Gearing’s mind, the roaches start running around in individual circles of shameless panic, even bumping into each other in a few instances. After a few seconds of the comical performance, they scatter. Running off in a variety of directions, all away from the road, and don’t seem to stop as far as he can see.

This strikes him as odd, but the results let him shrug his shoulders as he decides it’s at least saving him some ammo. Insects and many other creatures have extreme sensitivity to loud noises. Especially certain pitches and frequencies. He recalls an article from Scientific Equestria that there had been many experiments with sonic devices for use in pest control. Maybe this loud song the children are singing is just the right pitch to keep them away. Definitely helpful in Gearing’s opinion.

The first sign of anything else extremely weird doesn’t show up until a bit further down the road. Gearing keeps diving down and getting a better look around in buildings and windows, then zipping back up into the air. In one instance, he sees something moving around in a building further up the road from the foal convoy, but definitely right in their path. He flies around in a wide arc to get a better view, and ends up seeing several other individuals in the same area. All definitely ponies. All of which are set up behind various improvised barricades or hiding in rooms overlooking the road.

He checks them out through his scope, and can’t quite make out faces or any fine details. But their armor, if you want to call it that, is patchwork at best, and they all have some kind of weapon, most of them seem to be carrying melee weapons with only a few looking like they have some sort of pistol or rifle. He doesn’t want to just randomly kill ponies without cause. They could be folks just trying to make it out here that somehow found out there’s an approaching convoy, and are taking defensive positions just in case. But he’s not feeling too good about this situation the more he looks it over. They seem to be gathering and taking up positions to make a kill zone in the middle of the road.

It’s obviously some sort of ambush. But for whom, he can’t tell. And the area doesn’t look like any kind of settlement that he can think of. There’s nothing support wise to show it even attempting to be self sufficient. Not even sad little plants in pots for food, herbs, or spices. Not even flowers.

He makes another pass around the group as he tries to decide the best way to go about dealing with this. Negotiate, and abandon the element of surprise. Strike first, and risk being wrong about their intentions, even though he’s pretty sure he’s reading this right. Or should he simply direct the convoy around and avoid having to make a choice that could cost lives. The convoy’s still several minutes away so he’s got time to debate on the best course of action before alerting them.

But then, as if in answer to his dilemma, one of the unknown ponies breaks from cover, turns around, and starts running as fast as he can away from the road. That earth pony had been the one closest to the children and has apparently decided not to push his luck with this. Shortly after, another one breaks cover and runs, then another. In a wave that he can almost visualize as a storm front, the individuals apparently come within range of a fixed radius of the singing children, become completely discombobulated, causing them to turn tail and run in whatever direction seems to be the best for them at the time.

All done in pure terror. Some even dropping their weapons in the process. A few actually throw them away in an apparent attempt to surrender to whatever unseen force is harrying them.

Gearing thinks about his own situation not long ago, and how they had lured him in simply with their song. It would make sense, at least to somepony that believes in that sort of thing, that the song itself had some sort of enchantment that could actually repel people and creatures that might mean them harm. Or, possibly, it was just a universal repellent that kept them safe.

While he’s not sure if he’s out of range of the bubble of fear, or if he’s simply been granted immunity via targeted exclusion, he’s still wary of straying too close. Of the others that are still in the bubble, for sure, neither of them are reacting either. Sable’s indifferent status to the song makes perfect sense to Gearing, given her mechanical constitution and origins. But Nahlah, on the other hoof, is not only not fleeing like a proverbial scaredy-cat, but seems to be enjoying herself as she waves a paw around, bopping it in the air to the beat of the foals’ hooves. The song of doom and gloom seems to have no effect on her at all.

But from up here, it looks like everyone else, every threat, is running for the hills as fast as its legs will carry it.

Gearing nods and purses his lips tightly together before he says, “That… That would definitely work to keep them safe. I see what Andante was talking about now. Well… damn… looks like I’m not even needed...”

The little blue pegasus in Gearing’s head starts hopping around and waving flags as it draws his attention to the area they are approaching, and the ponies that had been there just moments before. But still. The group that had been there… They were going to attack somepony, eventually, even if they weren’t able to attack the children this time.

Assuming that’s what they were going to do, Gearing mentally retorts.

It’s nagging at him and he just doesn’t feel right leaving this area without knowing for sure what the hell is going on. And then there’s the need to get everything done and back to the stable as soon as possible.

Not to mention his personal goal that really can’t be put on a backburner while he traipses all over Equestria.

He lets out a sigh as he hangs his head. As much as he’d prefer to go back with them. To ensure their safety. To be with Sable, and the foals in 68, he knows he just can’t justify it now. Resources are limited, and an unnecessary escort is just that: unnecessary. With the threat level to the convoy lowered to the point that he’s comfortably able to declare himself no longer necessary, he realizes he needs to reallocate resources to other problems. Other hotspots.

And, in this case, he is the resource that needs to be redirected to somewhere that actually needs his attention.

Having come to that realization, and not wanting any unnecessary delays, Gearing taps out a message to Sable as he mutters to himself, “Business before pleasure, Gearing… business before pleasure… can’t be selfish…”

[Sable, I’m going to peel off and go back to meet up with Handy and Swift. I don’t know what is up with their music, but it seems to be chasing off pretty much everything around you guys. So I don’t think anything will be able to get close enough to cause any problems, and me being up here could just draw trouble from a distance. Please keep an eye on them, and make sure they rest. I’m sure whatever spell that is has its limits. And they’re organic. They’re going to need to sleep. Make sure to hunker down somewhere safe for them to do so when needed. We don’t need that spell to fail at the worst possible moment because they collapse from exhaustion.]

[Understood, my love. I am more than happy to assist my darling Gearing. I will ensure their safe arrival to Stable 68.]

The quick response doesn’t surprise him at all. But he can’t help shaking his head at what was said.

[“Understood”? That’s it? You’re not going to try and argue with me about it?]

[It would be counter productive to do so. My darling Gearing is carrying a large portion of the trade goods to be exchanged for necessary supplies. Your presence IS required to make the necessary transactions. Your goal is to be the most efficient time –wise over all, for everyone, correct? You are making the decision based on the calculation that the sooner you get the transactions finished, the sooner everyone will arrive at Stable 68. My calculations have arrived at the same conclusion. So there is no point of contention.]

As Gearing is reading her response, he gets another, shorter, message from her.

[Unless you wish to remain with me, and are hoping I can convince you to abandon your logic based decision making in favor of more pleasurable pursuits? In which case, I am more than happy to oblige!]

Gearing’s eyes trail up from his PipBuck screen and look down at Sable, who’s already looking up at him with a tilt of her head and a grin across her muzzle. They lock eye contact for a few moments, even at extreme long distance, before she gives a distracting swish of her tail with a sway of her hips.

The little blue pegasus in Gearing’s head looks at two large posters, one with Sable, with that familiar smirk across her muzzle, and the other is a collage of Handy, Swift, broken down equipment in Stable 68, fleeing unknown ponies, and mountains of salvage, along with several prewar tactical pictures of the Hoofington Core. He sits down and sheepishly taps his forehooves together as he mutters, Well, she’s not wrong…

Gearing shakes his head slowly as he lets out a sigh of resignation and reminds himself there will be plenty of time for frivolities later, when his tasks are finished. He confirms their route with Sable via his PipBuck, with everything he can remember about the transit system and the tunnels he was planning on using, along with some alternates.

After acknowledging receipt of his instructions, Sable replies in a way he wasn’t actually anticipating.

[Now that you are rid of us, are you going to tell me why you’re really hanging back up there?]

His eyes shoot wide for a moment, but then he smirks as he tilts his head and looks at his PipBuck screen. He glances down at Sable and notices that, despite them continuing on down the road, and a combination of her intuition and observant nature, she’s keeping her gaze forward and not looking up, and back, at him. Even so, she’s obviously aware of his relatively stationary positioning.

[The group that went running from the kids’ song has me worried. I think they’re bad news. Looked like they were set up to ambush anyone coming down the road. If they are, and I leave them here, someone else is going to suffer for it. And I just can’t let that happen.]

[Understood, my love. I’ll hurry us out of your operating area so you may act freely without concern for us. Stay safe, and I’ll see you soon.]

[Thank you, stay safe.]

[If you really wish to thank me, you may do so with prompt payment of your BILL once you arrive at Stable 68… Which is going to be increasing at an even faster rate since you’ve opted to split off now, and I will be deprived of your company for the entire way there.]

Gearing chuckles as he hovers in the air and watches them continue on down their path as he cues up commands on his PipBuck with the broadcaster mod attached. He confirms the command and the acknowledgement flashes across his vision, along with its string of responses.

Burst transmission cycling.

‘Update-Point-Convoy’ sent.

Transmission successfully completed.

Response failure. Reason: Timed out.

Delivery status: Unknown/ Unconfirmed

“And, because I’m not an idiot… time to move…” Gearing mutters as he looks around.

After the kids are pretty much out of sight he goes after an earth pony that had turned tail and ran through some rubble off to the west of the road. He cuts altitude and zips off after them in a straight line, figuring they would have gone as straight as possible instead of trying to zigzag given the level of panic they seemed to have been acting under.

Following a trail of freshly disturbed debris and hoofprints, he lands on top of the roof of a one floor building and looks down through the decaying holes into the lower levels where he finds an earth pony cowering in a corner.

The exceedingly dirty stallion is still shaking all over, with his hair standing on end and frazzled out in every conceivable direction, as he’s punching the painted brick wall with a pair of spiked shoes. He rants with a trembling voice that doesn’t pair well with its deep tones, “What the hell was that! I- I’m shaking everywhere! Get it together, Knuckles… This is bullshit! It was just a couple of kids and their packbot! Why couldn’t you move, you pussy ass motherfucker!? There’s going to be no living this down! Just wait till I see them again, I’m going to rip their limbs off, and leave their heads on last, just so I can hear them scream while I fuck them to death! Nopony does this to me. Nopony!” He punches the wall a few more times as his spittle gets flung around from the force of his flailing about.

“Thanks for that!” Gearing’s voice greets him cheerfully.

Knuckles spins around to find Gearing perched in the window, with his rifle pointed right at the stallion as he’s huddled in the corner with nowhere to go. His eyes slowly grow in width with yet another wave of terror running laps up and down his spine. But, this one, at least to his mind, has a much more understandable source to it.

The large bore of Gearing’s semi-automatic rifle pointed right at him.

Gearing shrugs and continues, “I was trying to figure your game out and, well, my conscience just wouldn’t let me drop it… so thanks for the help!” He ends the conversation, and adds a punctuating note to his statement, by putting two rounds into the stallion’s head with a quick double tap of the trigger. One causing catastrophic damage by separating the left side of Knuckle’s jaw, making it fly back and barely hang on by a thin thread of flesh. As catastrophic as it was, it would have been a survivable wound. The second round fixes that oversight soundly. The other round sails through the stallion’s muzzle, blowing out the back of his mouth, and head, with parts of the bones that make up his spine splattering in a weird piece of modern art against the wall behind himself.

As Knuckles’ corpse slowly sinks down to the floor, Gearing’s eyes narrow on it as his grin actually grows a tad. “A gang of murderous foal rapists, huh? That’s okay, I got an app for that…” Many bars appear across his vision as he activates his EFS and the HUD that he so rarely uses springs to life before him and begins telling him exactly where he should go next.

---

Footnote: Calculating Mass Augmentation thresholds, please stand by. . .

Mass Augmentation thresholds set, please stand by. . .

Gravity Differential alignment at 12%

Gravity Differential alignment at 25%

Next Chapter: 48 Flights of Fancy Estimated time remaining: 35 Hours, 7 Minutes