[MLP] Cloudbreak II: Towards the sun

[Thanqol]

Well, the Princesses must have been listening. Whether because of your yell, the brief medical ministrations you provided earlier, providence or just the sprouts that you ate four your last meal, your muzzle is suddenly stopped by an alabaster hoof just as it approaches contact.

"No- Not just yet" coughs Rarity, pushing you away gently but firmly, before rolling to her hooves.

It was a little bit longer before she'd fully recovered, but you were able to get her through it.

-==-

"It's real, isn't it?"

Twenty minutes later the three of you are standing on the edge of the bluff, looking out at the lowlands between Rainbow Falls and Canterlot. The sun shines down through a patchy grey sky, casting pillars of light across the Equestrian Wasteland.

"It's not just a dream or spell" continues Rarity, looking out. "I'm really here. This is really … what's left."

Deep breaths. Eyes closed.

What do you do?

"It's hard not to get used to it," said Luminark. "Everypony else has. They look at this and think... oh yeah. That's Equestria. That's what the world is like. Sometimes I think that way too. The only thing that keeps me sane are books. I overlay the pictures I see in the books with the landscapes here, the stories of how ponies used to interact with how they do now and it reminds me that things are only this way because of... choices? Mistakes? Things that ponies did. Holding onto that different idea of normal is the hardest thing in my life, much harder than just surviving out there."

[BlasTech]

Oh, he doesn’t rub it in. But he smirks right back, to show her that he knows she knows he knows what she’s up to, and you know what? He digs it. Totally.

“‘The Scrapscallion’s sometimes got a place he parks his bike, but his real home’s the road.’” he recited. And, well. Maybe he ought to recite a little more, but that’s where he leaves it. She knows about the legends of The Scrapscallion, right? Everybody knows. Everybody loves ‘em. So he don’t gotta say more. Yeah. “It’s something like that,” he shrugged. “Maybe I stay someplace for a while, but forever? Nahhhhhh. Sittin' still ain’t me. Guess I was just born to chase the wind.”

Come on. Pegasi? Flying? Wind? Chasing the wind? Flirting with her? Right now? No way she could miss that. So could they skip ahead to the fun part already? Not that he wasn’t down for the slow, circling smolder or anything. No, no, it’s just. Y’know. Places to be. He had a headache or something. Whatever. Ugh, she was lucky was smokin’, or else he might do something stupid.

“And what about you, hotshot?” He countered, with a casual lean back. Daring, inviting her to get a little closer. “Who’re you out here for?”

"Hah, well it sure as heck isn't myself." she grins, flitting over you close enough to let your mane feel the backwash of her wings.

"You don't get the brand and kicked out down here when you're only looking after yourself, after all." she continues. "No. For now, I'm out here for the Rangers - helping them to get up on their hooves. After that, maybe back to New Appleloosa, or off to the coast again."

"I'll just, y'know, see where things take me." she says, shooting you a significant glance™

Wellp. Time to rev your engines Scraps and get this road train rolling.

What do you do now, where do you go?

"It's hard not to get used to it," said Luminark. "Everypony else has. They look at this and think... oh yeah. That's Equestria. That's what the world is like. Sometimes I think that way too. The only thing that keeps me sane are books. I overlay the pictures I see in the books with the landscapes here, the stories of how ponies used to interact with how they do now and it reminds me that things are only this way because of... choices? Mistakes? Things that ponies did. Holding onto that different idea of normal is the hardest thing in my life, much harder than just surviving out there."

"Mistakes is the right word." replies Rarity, looking out at the wastes. "Mine, but many others' as well. So very many."

"I remember two normals." she continues. "The normal before the war, when my friends and I could just be friends, when our largest problems were sleepovers and the stress of impressing VIPs of the Canterlot fashion scene. Then, there was the normal of the war. The daily effort to keep the world together just a little bit longer. Against the fighting, against the protests and worse."

"We all tried our best. We failed, but I will not apologise for trying."

Another deep breath.

"I have to see this as another chance. An opportunity." she turned away, eyes glistening with emotion. "I will not let all that be where it ends. Not now that I am back."

"Now, darling, tell me. We have our town. We have the three of us. What's next?"

[TheAmishPirate]

"Hah, well it sure as heck isn't myself." she grins, flitting over you close enough to let your mane feel the backwash of her wings.

Oh baby.

"You don't get the brand and kicked out down here when you're only looking after yourself, after all." she continues. "No. For now, I'm out here for the Rangers - helping them to get up on their hooves. After that, maybe back to New Appleloosa, or off to the coast again."

Yes. Good.

"I'll just, y'know, see where things take me." she says, shooting you a significant glance™

Wellp. Time to rev your engines Scraps and get this road train rolling.

What do you do now, where do you go?

Finally.

“Hop on.” He snapped his goggles down and patted the seat behind him. “Enclave’s buzzing, right? They’ll be watching the skies right now. Won’t notice somebody travelling by land. It’s just good tactical sense.” The grin on his face betrayed how little he was actually thinking of tactical sense, but since when did excuses need to be good?

He knew a spot, see. And it just so happened to be on the way back to the Bunker. Sure, the Rainbow Falls hadn’t been Rainbow or Falling since forever, but the mountain itself had survived the years pretty well. By comparison, anyway. Something something ‘not much of a target’ whatever. Point was, it was pretty, and the heights made it real inconvenient for Raiders and, really, anybody else. Too slow to get up and down all the time.

Put it all together, and you’ve got yourself a prime locale to spend some uninterrupted quality time with a smokin’ hot pegasus.

As to getting there, he wasn’t going to disrespect her with the usual “make aggressive turns, she squeals in panic, hugs onto you for support” maneuver. Please. Somepony like her, you gotta take serious, or else she might just throw you in the cargo hold and take the wheel herself. So instead? He goes fast. Bullet-fast. The kind of speed that makes a pony feel alive. No time wasted, full-throttle, handling the rough, dangerous terrain like it was paved road.

Y’know. The sort of art that only another professional can appreciate.

[Balmas]

After a few minutes of your expert review, you identify a few basic issues with it and one underlying problem that is making it all more complicated.

For starters, the reactor casing is damaged in a few places, enough to cause the Geiger counter to spike when standing too close to the containment vessel. Nothing life threatening for a ghoul, and something that can easily be patched using the scrap metal lying around.

The manual override panel has also seen better days, but it's been cobbled back together well enough to function. It can probably be improved - with proper wheels rather than just a wrench on a stick. Or even totally rewired using some of the discarded terminals that you've spotted throughout the settlement.

The tricky part is that the reactor's automated systems are constantly sending update commands to the coolant controls. Something that has to be compensated by the manual overrides from time to time to prevent the reactor getting too out of whack. Stedder points out that its been doing that ever since the Fall from Canterlot mountain. Unfortunately, the controls are sealed behind a shield that none of the ghouls have been able to get past. He shows you it, a glowing pink wall of energy. Somepony has stencilled a horn and wings (as well as a few smiley faces and a firework) on the doorway beside it.

What do you do?

While they're wandering, Starlight grabs a wandering ghoul by the shoulder, and instructs them to bring her a scrap terminal. No, what are you talking about, of course--she's a specialist, damn your eyes, she knows what she's doing, now bring her that terminal, or you can explain why the reactor's performing at half the capacity it should.

Now. That shield. Tentatively, she pushes a hoof against the wall. It's the ministry of Morale, so you never know what wonders the Pink One incorporated into it, but it's asking for an alicorn, and she's an alicorn, so hopefully that firework doesn't mean something like a megaspell under their feet.

[What's my best way past this forcefield? Hold 1.]

[Thanqol]

"Mistakes is the right word." replies Rarity, looking out at the wastes. "Mine, but many others' as well. So very many."

"I remember two normals." she continues. "The normal before the war, when my friends and I could just be friends, when our largest problems were sleepovers and the stress of impressing VIPs of the Canterlot fashion scene. Then, there was the normal of the war. The daily effort to keep the world together just a little bit longer. Against the fighting, against the protests and worse."

"We all tried our best. We failed, but I will not apologise for trying."

Another deep breath.

"I have to see this as another chance. An opportunity." she turned away, eyes glistening with emotion. "I will not let all that be where it ends. Not now that I am back."

"Now, darling, tell me. We have our town. We have the three of us. What's next?"

"A lot of hard work," said Luminark.

And so it was.

There are fields to be tilled. He sweats with a hoe with rows of chattering, false Pinkie Pies and Applejacks, doing hard work like he's never done before. Entire days and nights pass in a state of pure physicality beneath the sky; labour and exhaustion and the feeling of productive accomplishment.

There are houses to be repaired. The town that came was born of dreams and storybook pictures and not everything translated well; there are holes in his imagination, weak foundations, houses piled too close together or too far apart. There's work there too, repairs and adjustments. A couple of houses are cannibalized for parts, walls and doors and roof, to patch the holes in others.

There are defenses to be laid out. Luminark goes as long as he can without thinking about it - he doesn't want to live in a world where he even has to think about being prepared for invasion. But one afternoon looking out over the town the thought comes to him that he wants this place to be safe. There are no guns or bombs in his dream town, so he makes do with positioning a number of boulders above the path into town.

And in between all of the simple labour, there is tea and conversation. And it felt sometimes like an entirely new normal was happening here, despite it all.

[BlasTech]

While they're wandering, Starlight grabs a wandering ghoul by the shoulder, and instructs them to bring her a scrap terminal. No, what are you talking about, of course--she's a specialist, damn your eyes, she knows what she's doing, now bring her that terminal, or you can explain why the reactor's performing at half the capacity it should.

Now. That shield. Tentatively, she pushes a hoof against the wall. It's the ministry of Morale, so you never know what wonders the Pink One incorporated into it, but it's asking for an alicorn, and she's an alicorn, so hopefully that firework doesn't mean something like a megaspell under their feet.

[What's my best way past this forcefield? Hold 1.]

Looking at it closely, you recognise the magic. It's a bypass shield. A kind of spell that forms an impenetrable barrier, save for one class of object, creature or concept that is allowed through.

When coupled with the picture next to it. Your best way past might be to just … walk through?

"A lot of hard work," said Luminark.

And so it was.

There are fields to be tilled. He sweats with a hoe with rows of chattering, false Pinkie Pies and Applejacks, doing hard work like he's never done before. Entire days and nights pass in a state of pure physicality beneath the sky; labour and exhaustion and the feeling of productive accomplishment.

There are houses to be repaired. The town that came was born of dreams and storybook pictures and not everything translated well; there are holes in his imagination, weak foundations, houses piled too close together or too far apart. There's work there too, repairs and adjustments. A couple of houses are cannibalized for parts, walls and doors and roof, to patch the holes in others.

There are defenses to be laid out. Luminark goes as long as he can without thinking about it - he doesn't want to live in a world where he even has to think about being prepared for invasion. But one afternoon looking out over the town the thought comes to him that he wants this place to be safe. There are no guns or bombs in his dream town, so he makes do with positioning a number of boulders above the path into town.

And in between all of the simple labour, there is tea and conversation. And it felt sometimes like an entirely new normal was happening here, despite it all.

"Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!"

"Thanks" replies Olive Daub, dropping the tin of "Flim & Flam's preserved apple soup" (now with 900% more preservatives!) into the pot he's tending.

"Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!"

The pink facsimile pronks away, leaving Rarity to shake her head. The three of you are lounging around a campfire, enjoying a balmy evening on the mountaintop and a dinner of pre-war salvage from the homes nearby. Rarity lies across from you on a rescued blanket, on that is amazingly still in good condition after having been stored in a tourist's resort equipment lockup.

"I didn't mention this before, darling, but these shades of yours are not nearly as puzzling as the real article." she says, watching the Pinkie Pie leave.

"If we keep this up." adds Olive "We'll have some crops to trade in a few months. The Applejacks are doing well there, so long as we keep an eye on them, but leave them to their own too long and they'd dig their way off the cliffside"

"Oh, please don't joke about that" responds Rarity. "I recall Applejack nearly falling off a cliff back in Everfree, on the day we all first met. I didn't realise it at the time, I'd thought she'd nearly fallen herself. It wasn't until after that I realised she'd actually jumped to that cliff ledge to catch Twilight who had gone over."

She paused, watching the shades of her past friends busy themselves with some other repairs. With the three of you gathered around the evening campfire, the alabaster unicorn seemed to be in a reminiscing mood.

"It was back on that Long Night when Nightmare Moon returned. That act, I think, was how Applejack first earned the element of Honesty." she continued. "I always wondered why - Looking back at it, it didn't make much sense why that particular display meant so much. She had been an honest pony long before that night and was an honest pony long afterwards."

"Twilight had a theory that it was because that was the night we had all stepped forward to do what was needed. That by acting out the elements for something greater than ourselves, we were earning the right to be their bearers. I don't know if I agreed, but it had a certain ring to it, don't you think? After al --- do you hear that?

Rarity glances away from the fire, ears perked towards a high-pitched whine. It sounds like machinery, an engine possibly.

Luminark. Do you recall what the Peregrine sounds like?

He knew a spot, see. And it just so happened to be on the way back to the Bunker. Sure, the Rainbow Falls hadn’t been Rainbow or Falling since forever, but the mountain itself had survived the years pretty well. By comparison, anyway. Something something ‘not much of a target’ whatever. Point was, it was pretty, and the heights made it real inconvenient for Raiders and, really, anybody else. Too slow to get up and down all the time.

Put it all together, and you’ve got yourself a prime locale to spend some uninterrupted quality time with a smokin’ hot pegasus.

As to getting there, he wasn’t going to disrespect her with the usual “make aggressive turns, she squeals in panic, hugs onto you for support” maneuver. Please. Somepony like her, you gotta take serious, or else she might just throw you in the cargo hold and take the wheel herself. So instead? He goes fast. Bullet-fast. The kind of speed that makes a pony feel alive. No time wasted, full-throttle, handling the rough, dangerous terrain like it was paved road.

Y’know. The sort of art that only another professional can appreciate.

Bullet fast, but even you can't outrace the sunset.

Not that that's a bad thing. You pull up at a plateau just beneath the ruins of the famous Rainbow Falls resorts. A nice secluded space where you, and your temporary marefriend, can do whatever you want.

Y'know. Like sit there, watch the sunset, and perhaps talk a bit.

Right?

What do you do?

[Thanqol]

"Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!"

"Thanks" replies Olive Daub, dropping the tin of "Flim & Flam's preserved apple soup" (now with 900% more preservatives!) into the pot he's tending.

"Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!"

The pink facsimile pronks away, leaving Rarity to shake her head. The three of you are lounging around a campfire, enjoying a balmy evening on the mountaintop and a dinner of pre-war salvage from the homes nearby. Rarity lies across from you on a rescued blanket, on that is inmazingly still in good condition after having been stored in a tourist's resort equipment lockup.

"I didn't mention this before, darling, but these shades of yours are not nearly as puzzling as the real article." she says, watching the Pinkie Pie leave.

"If we keep this up." adds Olive "We'll have some crops to trade in a few months. The Applejacks are doing well there, so long as we keep an eye on them, but leave them to their own too long and they'd dig their way off the cliffside"

"Oh, please don't joke about that" responds Rarity. "I recall Applejack nearly falling off a cliff back in Everfree, on the day we all first met. I didn't realise it at the time, I'd thought she'd nearly fallen herself. It wasn't until after that I realised she'd actually jumped to that cliff ledge to catch Twilight who had gone over."

She paused, watching the shades of her past friends busy themselves with some other repairs. With the three of you gathered around the evening campfire, the alabaster unicorn seemed to be in a reminiscing mood.

"It was back on that Long Night when Nightmare Moon returned. That act, I think, was how Applejack first earned the element of Honesty." she continued. "I always wondered why - Looking back at it, it didn't make much sense why that particular display meant so much. She had been an honest pony long before that night and was an honest pony long afterwards."

"Twilight had a theory that it was because that was the night we had all stepped forward to do what was needed. That by acting out the elements for something greater than ourselves, we were earning the right to be their bearers. I don't know if I agreed, but it had a certain ring to it, don't you think?

Everything is perfect. This is a wonderful end to another day of simple, honest work with no war, explosions, or illiterates. Luminark is dimly aware that things are only this easy because he's dealing with two real ponies and a legion of ghost slaves but - well, he's never had friends like this before, so even this feels like a lot. Telling stories! Theorizing about magic! Getting along! Why has he never tried friendship before??

After al --- do you hear that?

Rarity glances away from the fire, ears perked towards a high-pitched whine. It sounds like machinery, an engine possibly.

Luminark. Do you recall what the Peregrine sounds like?

Things are not perfect.

Luminark knows that sound much too well. He has been forced to endure hours in the cargo bay of that flying piece of garbage. But more than that, he recognizes the smell. It might be impossible to smell an airplane at this distance, perhaps it's psychosomatic, but Luminark remembers the smell of onions, sweat and trash heaps the herald the coming of Whasisname on a visceral level and that sound brings it clearly into his head.

"Please excuse me," said Luminark, folding his napkin into the Elferins Curve before resting his spoon beneath it - etiquette code for I Have To Pretend That The Party Was Cancelled So That I Might Turn Away An Inconvenient Housecaller. "I need to take this."

[Balmas]

Looking at it closely, you recognise the magic. It's a bypass shield. A kind of spell that forms an impenetrable barrier, save for one class of object, creature or concept that is allowed through.

When coupled with the picture next to it. Your best way past might be to just … walk through?

Well, that's simple.

I mean, yes, of course it is! Of course it's simple! What mere forcefield could dare to stand in her way? She, the Administrator? That's right, you punk little shield. Yield before your rightful mistress, and let Starlight figure out whether there's a switch for the shield or not.

[TheAmishPirate]

Bullet fast, but even you can't outrace the sunset.

Not that that's a bad thing. You pull up at a plateau just beneath the ruins of the famous Rainbow Falls resorts. A nice secluded space where you, and your temporary marefriend, can do whatever you want.

Y'know. Like sit there, watch the sunset, and perhaps talk a bit.

Right?

What do you do?

What does he do? He doesn’t waste time.

He kicks the engine off. Tosses his goggles away. Tosses that beautiful windswept mane, and turns to the gorgeous pegasus sitting behind him. No hesitation. No brakes. Inches apart now. They’re alone, their hearts are racing, and they’re riding that post-mission high. He smirks, just a bit softer now. He whispers.

”Hey.”

And yet.

He doesn’t close the gap.

Does she move on him? Does she want this? C’mon, spill already. She’s gotta, just - she’s gotta. His eyes are swallowing her up, and maybe there’s a flicker in the fire and a fraying on the edges. Maybe she hears his breath catch. Who knows what that’s about. The Scrapscallion’s never afraid. So is he cold? Sick? Starving? Dunno. Whatever. Forget it. Just-

Does she want him, too?

He’s gotta know.

[BlasTech]

"Please excuse me," said Luminark, folding his napkin into the Elferins Curve before resting his spoon beneath it - etiquette code for I Have To Pretend That The Party Was Cancelled So That I Might Turn Away An Inconvenient Housecaller. "I need to take this."

Olive just looks confused, but as you head off you hear Rarity's voice behind you - instructing him to gather the Shades and get them into the Town Hall. It looks like your friends will get the town battened down just in case.

The pathway down the mountain is one that you're able to easily traverse, despite not having spent much time in the woods before. Clearly signposted (albeit with 200-year-old tourist markers) you make your way to the "Sunset Overlook". A set of steps lead down to a plateau just below the main village.

You're getting closer to the sound of that noise before it cuts off. Ahead somewhere to the right - a few more minutes walk.

What do you do? How will you intend to approach this situation?

Well, that's simple.

I mean, yes, of course it is! Of course it's simple! What mere forcefield could dare to stand in her way? She, the Administrator? That's right, you punk little shield. Yield before your rightful mistress, and let Starlight figure out whether there's a switch for the shield or not.

Walking through, the motion sensor just on the other side of the doorway triggers as your hooves cross the threshold.

There are two sudden explosions above you.

You don't have time to react before a very sad rain of two hundred year old party confetti drifts down onto your mane. It seems as if the party poppers haven't weathered the test of time too well.

Up ahead a trapdoor in the ceiling opens and a cake, preserved so well it's little more than a solid brick of plastic and frosting, drops out and crushes a small metal stand table that seemed to have been placed there for that purpose.

Somewhere, a speaker plays a short ditty from a trumpet before shorting out with a spark.

And in the moment of stunned awkwardness that follows there is only silence - save for what sounds like the consistent squeaking of a dozen mice just around the corner where the primary control panel would be.

What do you do?

What does he do? He doesn’t waste time.

He kicks the engine off. Tosses his goggles away. Tosses that beautiful windswept mane, and turns to the gorgeous pegasus sitting behind him. No hesitation. No brakes. Inches apart now. They’re alone, their hearts are racing, and they’re riding that post-mission high. He smirks, just a bit softer now. He whispers.

”Hey.”

And yet.

He doesn’t close the gap.

Does she move on him? Does she want this? C’mon, spill already. She’s gotta, just - she’s gotta. His eyes are swallowing her up, and maybe there’s a flicker in the fire and a fraying on the edges. Maybe she hears his breath catch. Who knows what that’s about. The Scrapscallion’s never afraid. So is he cold? Sick? Starving? Dunno. Whatever. Forget it. Just-

Does she want him, too?

He’s gotta know.

She stares at you for a moment. Smiling oddly.

The two of you blink.

She steps forward, but instead of a kiss, she brings her head up to the side of yours pushing her mane into just where your ear meets your jaw. Firm of purpose, unafraid, but also … not going across that line just yet. Dancing just this side of it.

"Hey yourself" she says. Flicking her head so your eyes are both level again. Her golden irises seem to burn with intensity.

She leans in, you can feel the heat of her body right next to yours. The warmth of her breath on your coat as she whispers her next words right into your ear.

"Who are you thinking of?"

What do you do?

[TheAmishPirate]

She stares at you for a moment. Smiling oddly.

The two of you blink.

She steps forward, but instead of a kiss, she brings her head up to the side of yours pushing her mane into just where your ear meets your jaw. Firm of purpose, unafraid, but also … not going across that line just yet. Dancing just this side of it.

Aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

This was torture. This was agony. Even as he pressed into the nuzzle, every nerve in his body was on fire with frustrated, pent-up energy. She even chose an angle where he couldn’t press kisses into her mane without wrenching his stupid neck. Like, just, gah! Come on! Yes, he got it, la de da circle around each other all hot and cold like until somepony broke, good fun! Great fun! They’d been at this all day! Could we get to the making out already?!

"Hey yourself" she says. Flicking her head so your eyes are both level again. Her golden irises seem to burn with intensity.

She leans in, you can feel the heat of her body right next to yours. The warmth of her breath on your coat as she whispers her next words right into your ear.

"Who are you thinking of?"

What do you do?

...wait, what?

He felt a strand of the Pegasus’ mane brush against his cheek, and became aware of her, so very close and getting closer, burning a hole through him with her golden eyes. Waiting for an answer.

And the fire raging through his veins went ice-cold.

“I…” Instinctively, he let out a cool, quiet laugh. Not forced at all. “Who do you think...I’m thinking of?”

[BlasTech]

...wait, what?

He felt a strand of the Pegasus’ mane brush against his cheek, and became aware of her, so very close and getting closer, burning a hole through him with her golden eyes. Waiting for an answer.

And the fire raging through his veins went ice-cold.

“I…” Instinctively, he let out a cool, quiet laugh. Not forced at all. “Who do you think...I’m thinking of?”

There's movement to your side, you feel is the brush of a wing under your chin. It tilts you face up, to the right.

And then you feel her lips on yours.

This kiss is hot, heavy, and stands a good chance of being exactly what you dreamed it would be. It's electrifying. Freezing. And boiling all at once. Was there tongue? Who knows. A gentlepony never tells. But it goes on exactly as long as you hoped.

When she breaks off, she smiles. Looking you in the eyes.

"That was for helping to rescue those ponies." she whispers.

WHAM

"And that..." she says, stepping back from where she just gut-punched you with a hoof.

"that was for not answering my question."

What do you do?

[Take 0-harm, but roll the harm move]

[Balmas]

And in the moment of stunned awkwardness that follows there is only silence - save for what sounds like the consistent squeaking of a dozen mice just around the corner where the primary control panel would be.

What do you do?

Carefully, Starlight excises a slice of cake. No doubt, the mice in here are hungry after two hundred years, and it only pays to make friends. And with luck, the damned nuisances will choke and not interfere with her fixing the panel. That is what's in this room, right? Fix the panel, fix the reactor, grab the ghoul, teach them to fix the computer, get the tech, get out of this craphole, kill that backstabby wretch, retake her life, flawless victory.

And while she's here, she supposes she's going to look at disabling that force field, because while it would give her no end of satisfaction to just fix it and leave, somehow she feels that if they can fix it themselves, they'll be less likely to watch her! All the tech can be hers.

[Elanorin]

"Um no." replies House, as an overlay of the crystal heart appears on a nearby monitor. Red circles flash to life over two sections of it.

"According to what my sensors are telling me, in addition to the sliver you have with you, there's another missing from the rear of the Heart, and a chunk missing from the base of the point."

What do you do?

"Since. When." Milliway positively snarls as she launches herself at the control panel and begins to tap in commands to access the databank. She begins by going through old diagnostic logs to see if she can find any clue as to when the extra pieces went missing.

"I swear, House, I will find whoever took those extra pieces and I will get them back if I so have to cut them out of their sorry meat!"

[TheAmishPirate]

There's movement to your side, you feel is the brush of a wing under your chin. It tilts you face up, to the right.

And then you feel her lips on yours.

This kiss is hot, heavy, and stands a good chance of being exactly what you dreamed it would be. It's electrifying. Freezing. And boiling all at once. Was there tongue? Who knows. A gentlepony never tells. But it goes on exactly as long as you hoped.

It absolutely does not, because it ends.

By all the stars in the sky, how long has it been since he’s been with somepony on his level? An adventurer like him, a pegasus, a mare, and her game was on par with his? How many ponies like this even existed?! He stared back at her with eyes glazed over, his brain long gone, and all that was left to him was a burning need for more, more, more…

When she breaks off, she smiles. Looking you in the eyes.

"That was for helping to rescue those ponies." she whispers.

WHAM

"And that..." she says, stepping back from where she just gut-punched you with a hoof.

"that was for not answering my question."

What do you do?

[Take 0-harm, but roll the harm move]

Which is how he found himself doubled up on the ground, clutching his stomach and coughing up a lung.

[Rolling Harm move: 1 + 1 + 0 = 2. The dice continue to speak.]

“Okay, pause! Hold up! Time out! Safeword!” He held up a hoof, coughing a few too many times to be normal. “What the hay!? I answered your question! That was banter, of course it was you, who else did you think?!”

Perhaps the only thing that stood a chance of saving him from further punches (or worse) was that, turns out? It takes an incredible liar to hide your emotions after getting the sense kissed and then punched out of you. The Scrapscallion didn’t give off the panicked confusion of the master con artist who’d finally been found out. No, he spoke with the honest confusion of a pony who was totally, deeply lost. Perhaps deeper than either of them realized.

And maybe, just maybe, finding an idiot where she expected a liar would give her pause.

[BlasTech]

“Okay, pause! Hold up! Time out! Safeword!” He held up a hoof, coughing a few too many times to be normal. “What the hay!? I answered your question! That was banter, of course it was you, who else did you think?!”

Perhaps the only thing that stood a chance of saving him from further punches (or worse) was that, turns out? It takes an incredible liar to hide your emotions after getting the sense kissed and then punched out of you. The Scrapscallion didn’t give off the panicked confusion of the master con artist who’d finally been found out. No, he spoke with the honest confusion of a pony who was totally, deeply lost. Perhaps deeper than either of them realized.

And maybe, just maybe, finding an idiot where she expected a liar would give her pause.

It does give her pause and her expression softens somewhat, but she doesn't drop her hoof.

"So … not quite the flyboy your rep suggests after all" she continues, laughing quietly to herself.

"You were a million miles away. Tell me, who was it?"

She glances at her hoof, turning it over in consideration.

"And before you give me another "I don't know". Just know that I've seen that expression on you before, I've had it on myself once or twice. I want you to think carefully before answering, cause it's just you and me up here and I can keep this up all day."

She delivers that last with a bit of a smirk. She's joking right?

Carefully, Starlight excises a slice of cake. No doubt, the mice in here are hungry after two hundred years, and it only pays to make friends. And with luck, the damned nuisances will choke and not interfere with her fixing the panel. That is what's in this room, right? Fix the panel, fix the reactor, grab the ghoul, teach them to fix the computer, get the tech, get out of this craphole, kill that backstabby wretch, retake her life, flawless victory.

And while she's here, she supposes she's going to look at disabling that force field, because while it would give her no end of satisfaction to just fix it and leave, somehow she feels that if they can fix it themselves, they'll be less likely to watch her! All the tech can be hers.

You go around the corner and find the main console covered in …

Have you ever seen those silly paperweights? The ones shaped like a long-necked duck or something, with liquid inside so that it tips forward periodically as if taking a drink of something?

The console is covered in them. All squeaking away, and tapping at buttons in a random staccato. If you had to guess, you'd think they've all been doing this since something gave the room a good shake. Like the installation falling off the mountain perhaps.

In the middle of this bizzare symphony - sits the squat grey box of a tape recorder. A faded sign is attached to it by virtue of a spring and reads "Hey! Listen!"

What do you do?

"Since. When." Milliway positively snarls as she launches herself at the control panel and begins to tap in commands to access the databank. She begins by going through old diagnostic logs to see if she can find any clue as to when the extra pieces went missing.

"I swear, House, I will find whoever took those extra pieces and I will get them back if I so have to cut them out of their sorry meat!"

Sounds like you're trying to read a sitch? Go ahead and roll!

[Balmas]

You go around the corner and find the main console covered in …

Have you ever seen those silly paperweights? The ones shaped like a long-necked duck or something, with liquid inside so that it tips forward periodically as if taking a drink of something?

The console is covered in them. All squeaking away, and tapping at buttons in a random staccato. If you had to guess, you'd think they've all been doing this since something gave the room a good shake. Like the installation falling off the mountain perhaps.

In the middle of this bizzare symphony - sits the squat grey box of a tape recorder. A faded sign is attached to it by virtue of a spring and reads "Hey! Listen!"

What do you do?

Starlight eyes the recorder with disdain. And who was the recorder to tell her what she should do? She, the Administrator, sole survivor of two hundred years of mad scientists' plotting and scheming? Listen to what, some two hundred year old warning for a facility that was build three hundred feet and about thirty degrees away?

Still, she gingerly hoofs the play button and stands ready to smash it at the first sign of high-pitched squeaking. It's been two hundred years and there's a slight chance somepony else has been in this room since the war.

{EDIT: And while we're at it, let's just spend that last hold to ask: How are the birds programming this reactor? As in, if left alone, what does their pattern suggest will happen?}

[TheAmishPirate]

It does give her pause and her expression softens somewhat, but she doesn't drop her hoof.

"So … not quite the flyboy your rep suggests after all" she continues, laughing quietly to herself.

“Hey! I...fly a lot!”

Yep. Gottem.

"You were a million miles away. Tell me, who was it?"

She glances at her hoof, turning it over in consideration.

"And before you give me another "I don't know". Just know that I've seen that expression on you before, I've had it on myself once or twice. I want you to think carefully before answering, cause it's just you and me up here and I can keep this up all day."

She delivers that last with a bit of a smirk. She's joking right?

Ugh, he didn’t know whether joking was better or not, because he sure as hay wasn’t laughing. This sucked. Thinking sucked. His aching gut sucked. Nothing about this didn’t suck. Why was she doing all this when they could be making out right now? (It wasn’t too late to salvage that, right? Because he could really go for some more of whoops okay she’s giving him the punching eyes again keep that on the down-low.)

The Scrapscallion sulkily crossed his forelegs, putting on his best thinking face to keep her off his back for like a second. He was a million miles away? How was he supposed to know how far that was? Stupid. So like, maybe he could just...go down the list of ponies he knows who were really far away, and call it good enough? Sure, good enough. Wasn’t a very long list anyway. The Princess? No, definitely wasn’t her. Luminark? Dead. Bunker nerds, scavengers, various and sundry fine fillies throughout the Wasteland? No, she probably wanted a name here. That just left…

The Scrapscallion coughed again. Because of the gut punching. “There’s...somepony it might be, but, like, it doesn’t make any sense. I was looking at you. And thinking about kissing you. A lot.” Sure would’ve cool if he could’ve had his fill there! “Then before that, it was the mission. Then, then kissing that dumb Enclave jerk.” Who wasn’t even cool enough to kiss him right either! “Then the mission. Again.” Spent the whole day on that, and look where it’s got him; grouchy and gut-punched. Dumb mission. “Yeah, I...was gonna see her again later, part of the whole ‘wreck the Enclave, stop the invasion’ thing, but I haven’t been thinking about it or her at all, all day, so there!” He didn’t stick his tongue out at her -and it definitely wasn’t for fear of what she might do to it if he did - but man oh man, he was thinking it so loud at her.

[BlasTech]

Starlight eyes the recorder with disdain. And who was the recorder to tell her what she should do? She, the Administrator, sole survivor of two hundred years of mad scientists' plotting and scheming? Listen to what, some two hundred year old warning for a facility that was build three hundred feet and about thirty degrees away?

Still, she gingerly hoofs the play button and stands ready to smash it at the first sign of high-pitched squeaking. It's been two hundred years and there's a slight chance somepony else has been in this room since the war.

{EDIT: And while we're at it, let's just spend that last hold to ask: How are the birds programming this reactor? As in, if left alone, what does their pattern suggest will happen?}

Let's answer the question first.

After observing for a few minutes, you realise what will happen. Absolutely nothing.

Incredibly, for all the chaotic symphony before you, it looks like the setup is self-correcting. Birds that tap away, raising reactor temperature on one side, and lowering coolant, are offset by birds on the other side of the console doing just the opposite. Somehow, even with the manual overrides by the ponies outside this room, enough birds are hitting settings-reset buttons that its all undone.

That said, if even one of the birds was to be removed, the delicate balance would be thrown out, and the reactor stability would eventually spiral into decay without outside interference.

But back to the tape-recorder.

As you hit the play button, it does squeak a little but it's only normal windup noises. There's a crackle, a pop, and then a pony's voice comes in - distorted at first by the age of the tape, but eventually normalising at into a perky, high-pitched and high-velocity set of words.

"Starliiiiiight! I'm so glad you made it! It's been four-ever. That's like ever ever ever ever! You know? I hope the cake is still edible, make sure to save a slice for later!"

"Anyway, if you're listening to this message, I'm probably dead. Bummer I know, but no point in being a party pooper about all of that. How have you been lately?"

The recording pauses at this point, as if unaware it's a recording.

What do you do?

The Scrapscallion sulkily crossed his forelegs, putting on his best thinking face to keep her off his back for like a second. He was a million miles away? How was he supposed to know how far that was? Stupid. So like, maybe he could just...go down the list of ponies he knows who were really far away, and call it good enough? Sure, good enough. Wasn’t a very long list anyway. The Princess? No, definitely wasn’t her. Luminark? Dead. Bunker nerds, scavengers, various and sundry fine fillies throughout the Wasteland? No, she probably wanted a name here. That just left…

The Scrapscallion coughed again. Because of the gut punching. “There’s...somepony it might be, but, like, it doesn’t make any sense. I was looking at you. And thinking about kissing you. A lot.” Sure would’ve cool if he could’ve had his fill there! “Then before that, it was the mission. Then, then kissing that dumb Enclave jerk.” Who wasn’t even cool enough to kiss him right either! “Then the mission. Again.” Spent the whole day on that, and look where it’s got him; grouchy and gut-punched. Dumb mission. “Yeah, I...was gonna see her again later, part of the whole ‘wreck the Enclave, stop the invasion’ thing, but I haven’t been thinking about it or her at all, all day, so there!” He didn’t stick his tongue out at her -and it definitely wasn’t for fear of what she might do to it if he did - but man oh man, he was thinking it so loud at her.

"Ahuh, sure" replies the Pegasus, chuckling to herself.

"You know, there has been something that's been bugging me all through this. For one with a rep for loving adventure and excitement, you've been a bit off to what I expected. Almost like you're not enjoying everything we've been through at all."

She circles you, watching your expression on the ground.

"That thing with the Pegasus at the base. The edge you've had while we were getting those prisoners out. The way you dealt with the guards on the way through. That wasn't having fun. That was anger, frustration … maybe desperation? As if you were trying very hard to not think about something … something you don't want to think about. That hurts to think about. But you can't stop thinking about."

She stops circling, lowering her eyes so she can look right into yours.

"Tell. Me. Her. Name."

[Balmas]

Let's answer the question first.

After observing for a few minutes, you realise what will happen. Absolutely nothing.

Incredibly, for all the chaotic symphony before you, it looks like the setup is self-correcting. Birds that tap away, raising reactor temperature on one side, and lowering coolant, are offset by birds on the other side of the console doing just the opposite. Somehow, even with the manual overrides by the ponies outside this room, enough birds are hitting settings-reset buttons that its all undone.

That said, if even one of the birds was to be removed, the delicate balance would be thrown out, and the reactor stability would eventually spiral into decay without outside interference.

But back to the tape-recorder.

As you hit the play button, it does squeak a little but it's only normal windup noises. There's a crackle, a pop, and then a pony's voice comes in - distorted at first by the age of the tape, but eventually normalising at into a perky, high-pitched and high-velocity set of words.

"Starliiiiiight! I'm so glad you made it! It's been four-ever. That's like ever ever ever ever! You know? I hope the cake is still edible, make sure to save a slice for later!"

"Anyway, if you're listening to this message, I'm probably dead. Bummer I know, but no point in being a party pooper about all of that. How have you been lately?"

The recording pauses at this point, as if unaware it's a recording.

What do you do?

"Peachy," Starlight snarls, and yanks the casette out of the player. Yanks the tape out of the cassette, snaps the casette in half, tears the tape to ribbons, stomps on the casette with her angry horse hooves 'til it's nothing but plastic fragments, piles it all up and tzzotts it with lightning until it's a smoldering fused mass on the floor, just for good measure.

Now. That control console. If it's just the birds causing the interference, and it's only been since the fall, it's obvious that sheer happenstance had all these birds fall across the control board in exactly the right way to keep the reactor neutral, because it sure as hell wasn't some prescient pink pony exerting some deterministic calculations, because that'd be daft. In theory, then, removing the interference should be as simple as dropping the cores out of the reactor, removing the birds, setting the reactor to a good neutral, and then lifting the cores back in. Simple as pi-- cake. Simple as cake.

[BlasTech]

"Peachy," Starlight snarls, and yanks the casette out of the player. Yanks the tape out of the cassette, snaps the casette in half, tears the tape to ribbons, stomps on the casette with her angry horse hooves 'til it's nothing but plastic fragments, piles it all up and tzzotts it with lightning until it's a smoldering fused mass on the floor, just for good measure.

Now. That control console. If it's just the birds causing the interference, and it's only been since the fall, it's obvious that sheer happenstance had all these birds fall across the control board in exactly the right way to keep the reactor neutral, because it sure as hell wasn't some prescient pink pony exerting some deterministic calculations, because that'd be daft. In theory, then, removing the interference should be as simple as dropping the cores out of the reactor, removing the birds, setting the reactor to a good neutral, and then lifting the cores back in. Simple as pi-- cake. Simple as cake.

There's a bzzrt noise as you pull the cassette out. It looks like somepony had attached a draw cord to it.

You watch that draw cord pull back, like a snake slowly retreating into its burrow.

"I love peaches!"

The voice comes again, this time from a second tape recorder that had been attached to the underside of the table the first was on. On closer inspection, you also spot a button beneath the first tape recorder - which would have been tripped had you just smashed it with a hoof outright.

"And melons, and apricots. Not a fan of cantaloupes though. But they are good on a salad."

"So, yeah. How are you going Staaarliight?" says the voice, lilting annoyingly on your name.

[Balmas]

There's a bzzrt noise as you pull the cassette out. It looks like somepony had attached a draw cord to it.

You watch that draw cord pull back, like a snake slowly retreating into its burrow.

"I love peaches!"

The voice comes again, this time from a second tape recorder that had been attached to the underside of the table the first was on. On closer inspection, you also spot a button beneath the first tape recorder - which would have been tripped had you just smashed it with a hoof outright.

"And melons, and apricots. Not a fan of cantaloupes though. But they are good on a salad."

"So, yeah. How are you going Staaarliight?" says the voice, lilting annoyingly on your name.

Starlight sits, panting, in a pile of a couple dozen tape recorders in various states of destruction, quite unsure how she got to this point. She'd utterly demolished the first, taken the batteries out of the second, which had zapped her badly enough that her tail had snapped up against a bottle and knocked it onto a third recorder's play button. She was pretty confident in the chain of events up until recorder number seven had exploded in her face, and from there she'd just started smashing on sight.

And the damn voice was still squeaking in her ear. Something about pop rocks.

"I hope you died screaming," she interrupts sullenly. "No, wait. I hope you're alive, so that I can have a chance at you myself. You couldn't waste any of your prescience on stopping the bombs or the war, but thank goodness you spent time on this. I can't imagine just fixing a reactor without the minister of morale herself chiming in. At least the Purple One let me just get on with my tests in peace."

[Elanorin]

Sounds like you're trying to read a sitch? Go ahead and roll!

Sure!
[Rolling to Read A Sitch: 2+1+0=3 Right. Hm. Milliway is clearly losing her touch. Asking 1 anyway: What should I be on the lookout for?]

[BlasTech]

Starlight sits, panting, in a pile of a couple dozen tape recorders in various states of destruction, quite unsure how she got to this point. She'd utterly demolished the first, taken the batteries out of the second, which had zapped her badly enough that her tail had snapped up against a bottle and knocked it onto a third recorder's play button. She was pretty confident in the chain of events up until recorder number seven had exploded in her face, and from there she'd just started smashing on sight.

And the damn voice was still squeaking in her ear. Something about pop rocks.

"I hope you died screaming," she interrupts sullenly. "No, wait. I hope you're alive, so that I can have a chance at you myself. You couldn't waste any of your prescience on stopping the bombs or the war, but thank goodness you spent time on this. I can't imagine just fixing a reactor without the minister of morale herself chiming in. At least the Purple One let me just get on with my tests in peace."

"Well, as I'm not dead yet, I don't know how I died, do I?" giggles the voice, coming from (on inspection) a tiny microphone embedded in the wall. "And no sense in wondering about the what ifs and why nots. As I told Twilight, you just have to have a little faith sometimes!"

"Anyway, since I only have thirty two more recorders in this room before it switches over to the installation PA system, I was hoping we could just have a chat for a bit? I'm not sure why, but you seem really stressed."

"So tell me, what's up, doc?"

There's a pause while you can hear a faint muttering on the line.

"She got that doctorate, right? I'm pretty sure she did in the end."

Sure!
[Rolling to Read A Sitch: 2+1+0=3 Right. Hm. Milliway is clearly losing her touch. Asking 1 anyway: What should I be on the lookout for?]

Access logs. Who came in to your workshop in the times you weren't around.

If there was a time window, it would probably have been when you died. Scanning the logs, there are a half dozen access notes around that time.

All of them just show --ADMINISTRATOR--.

So you'll need to be on for somepony with administrator-level access. Now, how many of those has the bunker got? It could have been the administrator herself (remember, it was Glim Glam at the time) or one of the other senior scientists.

[TheAmishPirate]

"Ahuh, sure" replies the Pegasus, chuckling to herself.

"You know, there has been something that's been bugging me all through this. For one with a rep for loving adventure and excitement, you've been a bit off to what I expected. Almost like you're not enjoying everything we've been through at all."

She circles you, watching your expression on the ground.

"That thing with the Pegasus at the base. The edge you've had while we were getting those prisoners out. The way you dealt with the guards on the way through. That wasn't having fun. That was anger, frustration … maybe desperation? As if you were trying very hard to not think about something … something you don't want to think about. That hurts to think about. But you can't stop thinking about."

Somehow, someway, every single word was the worst possible thing to say, and everything was worse for her saying it. And the Scrapscallion had just about had enough.

Who the hay did she think she was?! Did she get her sick kicks from luring handsome stallions off on their own, giving them just a taste of her, then, then, making fun of them, tearing them down, making them feel naked? And not in a good way! In a bad way! The worst way! Like, “said something lame over the Bunker’s PA and everybody heard” levels of bad.

As she circled him? As she eyed her prey? He burned a sullen glare right through her.

Well. Except for the times when he was busy staring a miserable hole in the ground.

He...he did a bit of that too.

She stops circling, lowering her eyes so she can look right into yours.

"Tell. Me. Her. Name."

The Scrapscallion snapped.

“Milliway!” He shouted, right in her stupid face. “Her name’s Milliway, alright?!”

[BlasTech]

The Scrapscallion snapped.

“Milliway!” He shouted, right in her stupid face. “Her name’s Milliway, alright?!”

"And what is it about this filly. Why are you so scared?"

She grins, annoyingly, at your discomfort.

"The big, bad, road boy of the wastes. The Scrapscallion." she continues, prodding you with a hoof.

"What makes you so afraid?"

[TheAmishPirate]

"And what is it about this filly. Why are you so scared?"

She grins, annoyingly, at your discomfort.

"The big, bad, road boy of the wastes. The Scrapscallion." she continues, prodding you with a hoof.

"What makes you so afraid?"

“Because this is my last chance!”

The Scrapscallion roared, flying to his hooves, straining against the Pegasus’ guard to sock her right in her stupid face. “I don’t know where she is! She doesn’t know I’m coming! She’s alone in a Bunker full of thugs and jerks and riots and she doesn’t have anypony else! She’s got nothing! I’ve got nothing! How am I supposed to...h-how am I gonna…?!”

His wild punches devolved into exhasted flailing, just as his ragged breathing descended into choked sobs.

“This is my last chance, and I’m not ready...”

[BlasTech]

“Because this is my last chance!”

The Scrapscallion roared, flying to his hooves, straining against the Pegasus’ guard to sock her right in her stupid face. “I don’t know where she is! She doesn’t know I’m coming! She’s alone in a Bunker full of thugs and jerks and riots and she doesn’t have anypony else! She’s got nothing! I’ve got nothing! How am I supposed to...h-how am I gonna…?!”

His wild punches devolved into exhasted flailing, just as his ragged breathing descended into choked sobs.

“This is my last chance, and I’m not ready...”

The Pegasus is able to fend off your flailing, and catches you as you pitch forward at her.

She holds you - a odd combination of a pin and a hug - before softly asking one last question.

"You love her. Don't you?"

[Thanqol]

It was at this moment Luminark blundered into the clearing, levitating a stick under his robe in a way that he hoped made it look like he had a gun in his pocket but really just made him look like a dork. "You! How did you find me!?" he said in a reasonable tone of voice. "Who sent you? Was it the princess? Did she track me somehow?"

What was his name again? Something about onions?

[TheAmishPirate]

The Pegasus is able to fend off your flailing, and catches you as you pitch forward at her.

She holds you - a odd combination of a pin and a hug - before softly asking one last question.

"You love her. Don't you?"

Momentum is a heck of a thing.

The Scrapscallion had been riding it all his life. Letting it carry him through scrape after scrape. Gently steering it away from all the gross, lame things that brought him down. Only, somehow, he wasn’t steering anymore. He was a helpless passenger on a speeding locomotive, hurtling towards its destination. A destination that he’d been heading towards for...gosh, how many years?

And. Well. Momentum. Old habits. Hard to break, right?

Trembling, he opened his mouth, and said…

It was at this moment Luminark blundered into the clearing, levitating a stick under his robe in a way that he hoped made it look like he had a gun in his pocket but really just made him look like a dork. "You! How did you find me!?" he said in a reasonable tone of voice. "Who sent you? Was it the princess? Did she track me somehow?"

What was his name again? Something about onions?

“Oh my gosh. Ghosts are real.”

And he did what any self-respecting scavenger would do when confronted with unshakeable proof in the hereafter; take his shocky stick in his tail, and prepare to huck it at the apparition from beyond.

[Rolling Go Aggro on Luminark with the Shocky Stick: 3 + 4 - 1 = a thematically appropriate 6]

Unfortunately, the Scrapscallion’s self-respect wasn’t as self or respecting as usual, and - in all the commotion - he miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight have forgotten which end was the shocky end.