Cloudbreak IC: Glimpse of the sky

[TheAmishPirate]

She's still in the monster's grasp, being held off to the side as Starlight backs it into the corner.

She still looks a bit annoyed - both at her current situation and at you shooting at her, but otherwise doesn't seem to have been hurt.

I seethe. "Luminark!" Then the rat bastard is gone, and I'm left with the business at hand. "Look," I growl, and walk forward until the shield is pressing the monster into the corner. "I can appreciate that you're an abomination of science, and you've only just come to life. For that reason, I'm going to give you this one chance to surrender, come peaceully, and let my little pony there go. Otherwise, I'm going to stomp on you until the only thing left of you is some sparking wires."

[Go Aggro: Surrender, or die. [roll0]]

The Scrapscallion coolly reloaded his revolver, coaxing out some nice mechanical clicks to punctuate the Princess' threat.

[Holding steady, gonna wait and see what the beastie does.]

[BlasTech]

I seethe. "Luminark!" Then the rat bastard is gone, and I'm left with the business at hand. "Look," I growl, and walk forward until the shield is pressing the monster into the corner. "I can appreciate that you're an abomination of science, and you've only just come to life. For that reason, I'm going to give you this one chance to surrender, come peaceully, and let my little pony there go. Otherwise, I'm going to stomp on you until the only thing left of you is some sparking wires.

[Go Aggro: Surrender, or die. [roll0]]

The mechanical abomination lets out another of the mournful electronic screams before shrinking further into the corner. Its tentacles disconnect as it gets smaller, dropping the nurse back to her hooves, while all the different bits and pieces that had made up its body begin to drop to the ground.

Eventually, it shrinks down to a single PDA - still crackling with yellow electricity.

It's surrendered, now what do you do?

There's nothing for it, she really wanted Power's dead corpse, but not at the cost of getting caught by a friendship patrol. Not on her life.

Drop the dead horse.

Milliway reluctantly ditched Power Overwhelming unceremoniously right there and then and then galloped at top speed the hell out of there headed straight home. They'd find Power, of course, but in truth it wasn't her who killed her. So that ought work out absolutely fine.

Behind you, you can hear the ponies shout as they discover Power's body. With the confusion though, you're able to slip away.

Where do you go?

(Will wrap this scene up after the above is resolved)

[TheAmishPirate]

The mechanical abomination lets out another of the mournful electronic screams before shrinking further into the corner. Its tentacles disconnect as it gets smaller, dropping the nurse back to her hooves, while all the different bits and pieces that had made up its body begin to drop to the ground.

Eventually, it shrinks down to a single PDA - still crackling with yellow electricity.

It's surrendered, now what do you do?

Put yourself in the nurse's shoes for a moment. You've had yourself a pretty hard time, haven't you? Bound in cold, rough cables, zapped by thoughtless electricity, tossed around like a rag doll, and - worst of all - you missed a dazzling display of first-rate heroics due to your stupid attitude problem.

But then. The cables part. You fall, not onto the unforgiving floor, but into the waiting grasp of a handsome stranger. He holds you in an embrace as warm as it is ruggedly muscular, and you know - in your heart of hearts - that you should not have yelled at him, that was real dumb. If only there was some way you could make out with it up to him! And then, he flashes you a smile. "What's a stallion gotta do to get an appointment around here?" That voice! That voice could melt butter at fifty paces. What chance did your heart have? You think maybe a little TLC is the perfect way to thank your brave, dashing rescuer...

[Rolling to Seduce the nurse into giving the Scrapscallion medical attention: 1 + 1 + 1 = whoops 3.]

Y'know. At least that's how the Scrapscallion thinks she'll see things.

[Balmas]

The mechanical abomination lets out another of the mournful electronic screams before shrinking further into the corner. Its tentacles disconnect as it gets smaller, dropping the nurse back to her hooves, while all the different bits and pieces that had made up its body begin to drop to the ground.

Eventually, it shrinks down to a single PDA - still crackling with yellow electricity.

It's surrendered, now what do you do?

I grab the PDA in my magic, and toss it towards the nearest doctor-looking pony. "Make sure this gets back to whoever's responsible. And make sure that they know that if I have to protect my little ponies from their toy again, I'll see them as being directly responsible for any harm that results."

Then I'm off to gather as many troops as I can. I have a traitor to take care of.

[BlasTech]

Put yourself in the nurse's shoes for a moment. You've had yourself a pretty hard time, haven't you? Bound in cold, rough cables, zapped by thoughtless electricity, tossed around like a rag doll, and - worst of all - you missed a dazzling display of first-rate heroics due to your stupid attitude problem.

But then. The cables part. You fall, not onto the unforgiving floor, but into the waiting grasp of a handsome stranger. He holds you in an embrace as warm as it is ruggedly muscular, and you know - in your heart of hearts - that you should not have yelled at him, that was real dumb. If only there was some way you could make out with it up to him! And then, he flashes you a smile. "What's a stallion gotta do to get an appointment around here?" That voice! That voice could melt butter at fifty paces. What chance did your heart have? You think maybe a little TLC is the perfect way to thank your brave, dashing rescuer...

[Rolling to Seduce the nurse into giving the Scrapscallion medical attention: 1 + 1 + 1 = whoops 3.]

Y'know. At least that's how the Scrapscallion thinks she'll see things.

Aww, look. It's true love. Surely, wedding bells will be in your immediate future.

Actually, the only bells you end up hearing are the ones in your head after she slugs you one. By the time you come around, the nurse is long gone. Did you recognise her, or catch her name?

In either case, the doctors will need to be persuaded the old fashioned way (with bits). Given the premium on services in the immediate future, it'll be 1 barter per segment healed. This also goes for anyone else who needs medical attention at the moment.

I grab the PDA in my magic, and toss it towards the nearest doctor-looking pony. "Make sure this gets back to whoever's responsible. And make sure that they know that if I have to protect my little ponies from their toy again, I'll see them as being directly responsible for any harm that results."

Then I'm off to gather as many troops as I can. I have a traitor to take care of.

Doc Savage grabs it out of the air, looking sheepish.

"Uh, yes ma'am. It's uh, actually, my experimental antivirus software. I'll ..." he cuts off at the look from your face.

"I'llputitbackinmylabandohlookatthetimeI'dbestbego ingnow!" he stammers, before bolting.

[Session End.]

The time winds forward a few days. As ponies prep for the next big expedition into the Wasteland.

What are you all doing in the intervening time? Also, come departure day, what are you all planning on doing?

[TheAmishPirate]

Aww, look. It's true love. Surely, wedding bells will be in your immediate future.

Actually, the only bells you end up hearing are the ones in your head after she slugs you one. By the time you come around, the nurse is long gone. Did you recognise her, or catch her name?

Come to think of it, yeah! The Scrapscallion would recognize that slap anywhere. In all the confusion, he didn't realize he was trying to rescue Tender Care, the very same nurse he'd had a bit of a fling with some months back. It was great to know that his taste in mares was as good as ever. Just like her slapping hoof.

In either case, the doctors will need to be persuaded the old fashioned way (with bits). Given the premium on services in the immediate future, it'll be 1 barter per segment healed. This also goes for anyone else who needs medical attention at the moment.

Well, considering that he's one paper cut away from bleeding out, the Scrapscallion will pony up for some treatment. Given that he's not slated to leave for another few days, he has time to let his body do some healing, instead of coughing up all his earthly possessions to the docs.

[Spending 1 Barter to heal 1 Harm. If he rests for the next few days, how much more Harm will he heal on his own?]

The time winds forward a few days. As ponies prep for the next big expedition into the Wasteland.

What are you all doing in the intervening time? Also, come departure day, what are you all planning on doing?

Woah woah woah woah woah woah woah. Settle down there, we got a few little details to iron out first.

See, the Scrapscallion? The Scrapscallion rides alone. The Scrapscallion doesn't need some namby-pamby slowpokes cramping his style by dying horribly. Or barfing in his cargo hold. Just tell him what you need from the generators, and he'll go get your precious data. Alright? Alright.

In the days between now and then, the Scrapscallion's going to be resting and recovering. He's got a long drive ahead of him, and he needs to make sure all his insides don't end up on the outside. He's got himself a hammock in his corner of the garage, and he plans on getting some quality naptime. If he gets bored, he can always keep himself entertained by shuffling around some of the Environmental Science Division's experiments when they aren't looking. And swiping their office supplies. You would not believe the paperclip hoard he's got stashed away.

The day he's supposed to leave though? He finds himself in a familiar spot. A place he visits often, before going for a drive. A lovely patch of concrete, seventeen and a half paces from the end of a hallway, in-between cracks #345 and #346. When he scuffs his front left hoof, it makes a slightly different sound than the other three. The musty air tickles his nose, but never enough to make him sneeze, thank the stars. On average, he can stand here for, oh, maybe about fifteen minutes or so before hearing somepony else approaching, in which case he has exactly thirteen seconds to look like he's on his way someplace else.

It's the ideal spot to stand in front of The Crate while deciding if he's going to knock this time. And today, three sharp raps sound on the metal door.

[Elanorin]

Behind you, you can hear the ponies shout as they discover Power's body. With the confusion though, you're able to slip away.

Where do you go?

Home. Top speed. Then shower.

[Session End.]

The time winds forward a few days. As ponies prep for the next big expedition into the Wasteland.

What are you all doing in the intervening time? Also, come departure day, what are you all planning on doing?

The Plan:

Milliway had gone to work on the communications interface for the library as soon as she'd dried off the last of the garbage goop from her mane. In fact, she'd already began mapping it out in her head while washing. Her mind was entirely devoted to this project now and she had not emerged once from her workshop in the past week. She wanted to get everything set up and ready, and she was well pleased by the result too, sure there were some loose wires and a lack of casing, making it look a little like some kind of electronic brain on a plate, but it would do the job. She was sure of it.

So there was some kind of departure, she'd heard mention of it on the wireless while working. It was perfect, the less ponies around, the better. She'd have less in her way as she went about finding that quack Black Liquorice to help her hook this piece of genius engineering to that chandelier. She'd just finish up here, just get that last piece of wiring to hold and then sneak out, track down Black, fast-talk her in to helping her (forged contract of employment from the administrator was ready and waiting), make a bee-line for the creepy library (with any luck Lumibark's off on that glorified scavenger hunt too), get up the air ducts again, reach the chandelier, go to work and get it all set up and tested, send Black on her way with as little knowledge of what's really going on as possible.

Open the link, have it out with the chandelier, get the surveillance agreed and set up and, by the time everyone was back all would be tidied away and she'd have full privilege to Luminark's privacy and nopony would be any the wiser.

With any luck she'd even have spare time to dig up Power's corpse too.

The Reality:

It's the ideal spot to stand in front of The Crate while deciding if he's going to knock this time. And today, three sharp raps sound on the metal door.

Milliway flicked up the welding visor in front of her face and gave a deathglare with cybernetic precision in the direction of the door. That sounded like an Interruption. That, sounded like a distraction.

She hesitated for a good moment before snapping the blowtorch off and then went to tap a few hard taps on one of House's consoles, blowtorch still in hoof. With a fizz and a whirr and a zzat one of the monitors came to life showing a grainy black and white image of a much too familiar pony.

"Scrapstallion." came from a little crackly speaker hanging by the door, looking like a limp bicycle headlight, "I'm in the middle of...uhm... stuff."

[Spending 1-barter on upkeep, healing 1-harm naturally]

[TheAmishPirate]

Milliway flicked up the welding visor in front of her face and gave a deathglare with cybernetic precision in the direction of the door. That sounded like an Interruption. That, sounded like a distraction.

She hesitated for a good moment before snapping the blowtorch off and then went to tap a few hard taps on one of House's consoles, blowtorch still in hoof. With a fizz and a whirr and a zzat one of the monitors came to life showing a grainy black and white image of a much too familiar pony.

"Scrapstallion." came from a little crackly speaker hanging by the door, looking like a limp bicycle headlight, "I'm in the middle of...uhm... stuff."

[Spending 1-barter on upkeep, healing 1-harm naturally]

The speaker crackled to life, and all the words tumbled right out of the Scrapscallion's brain. "Oh. Yeah, I figured you were busy with, your important science...stuff. That's why I, y'know, knocked instead of. Climbing through the door. Or something."

Milliway, through your grainy screen you can notice that the Scrapscallion isn't looking at the speaker. He's not even looking at the camera. If you had to eyeball it - no offense - you could say that he's pointed straight towards your door at a suspicious 13.45 degree angle. Give or take.

"But hey!" He continued on, oblivious. "You're not exploded! That's...that's pretty good, right?"

[Thanqol]

Luminark's plan is essentially to lay low. He spends time lurking around either the deep stacks of the library or the garage, looking up maps and plans of things out in the world that might please the Archmage. He understands that some irrational ponies might hold incomprehensible grudges so he intends to work around other ponies for the foreseeable future.

The plan is to stow away in whatsisname - Trashcolt? - Trashcolt's car when he next leaves the station. Then with his preparation he'll have a list of places to hit up and by the time he comes back there'll be some new crisis and all will be forgotten. Flawless.

[Balmas]

Start of Session rolls: Wealth: (2d6+2)[10] +2 Barter. The Manufactory is alive and well, I see.

On the day of Scrapscallion's departure, I'm gathering everyone in the base into the atrium for an announcement.

I trot around the podium, gather my notes, and take a deep breath. "I'm sure you've noticed that things in our Bunker have been a bit more tumultuous of late than anypony would like. It is a sad, sad state of affairs. Some of our colleagues have been injured because somepony here does not have friendship in their heart!" I'm pacing, military, straight backed, feet clopping down like bullets. "And I am furious--furious!--that it has escaped my notice long enough to be a problem! In our Bunker, you know that anypony can come to see me, discuss what they think should be done, that our home can be improved. But this pony--nay, this unpony, for no pony could strike at their own in such a manner--did nothing of the sort! They, for reasons known only to them, chose instead to hurt innocent ponies! They have committed the capital crime of disrupting the peace of Our Bunker!

"So now, we need to find them! We need to find where they hide, who they are! And I charge all of you--be wary! Any one of you could be the traitor, so the key is Constant! Vigilance!"

The notepads slam to the podium hard enough to leave a dent. "And if anypony knows anything, I command you to come forward now, and tell me."
[Towering Presence: (2d6+2)[8]. Who's moving?]

[Elanorin]

The speaker crackled to life, and all the words tumbled right out of the Scrapscallion's brain. "Oh. Yeah, I figured you were busy with, your important science...stuff. That's why I, y'know, knocked instead of. Climbing through the door. Or something."

Milliway, through your grainy screen you can notice that the Scrapscallion isn't looking at the speaker. He's not even looking at the camera. If you had to eyeball it - no offense - you could say that he's pointed straight towards your door at a suspicious 13.45 degree angle. Give or take.

"But hey!" He continued on, oblivious. "You're not exploded! That's...that's pretty good, right?"

Note to self; set up booby traps.

Wait, what?

"E-exploded?" she stammered.

Did he just insinuate that she is some kind of useless idiot who can't so much as weld hubcaps together without setting her tail on fire, because the nerve!

One time. One time! And it's almost entirely grown back anyway, it's not like he'd be able to tell! If he thinks he can just come here and insult and expect to be allowed in and no doubt be given some newfangled upgrade to his better half then he's got another thing coming!

Why was he standing like that?

[TheAmishPirate]

Note to self; set up booby traps.

Wait, what?

"E-exploded?" she stammered.

Did he just insinuate that she is some kind of useless idiot who can't so much as weld hubcaps together without setting her tail on fire, because the nerve!

One time. One time! And it's almost entirely grown back anyway, it's not like he'd be able to tell! If he thinks he can just come here and insult and expect to be allowed in and no doubt be given some newfangled upgrade to his better half then he's got another thing coming!

Why was he standing like that?

The Scrapscallion laughed a totally normal laugh. The type that normal ponies make all the time. That's the laugh he did. "Yeah. Or stabbed, or shot, or shot and stabbed, or on fire - I, I'd probably be able to hear that one from here - or crushed in a horrible lab accident deep underground where nobody'd ever find you so hey! Five for five! Guess that's two of us who've had a good week."

There. Right there. He looked away, shuffled his hooves, and wound up pointing in exactly the same direction as before. It's like he's doing it without even thinking about it. (Which may be par for the course.) If the door were open, he'd be looking...somewhere inside your lab? Maybe near the center? Hard to say from here.

"And! Speaking of weeks. You...haven't found that, thing, the 5-gear shift-combine...in this week?" He asked, putting each and every one of his teeth into a grin.

[Elanorin]

The Scrapscallion laughed a totally normal laugh. The type that normal ponies make all the time. That's the laugh he did. "Yeah. Or stabbed, or shot, or shot and stabbed, or on fire - I, I'd probably be able to hear that one from here - or crushed in a horrible lab accident deep underground where nobody'd ever find you so hey! Five for five! Guess that's two of us who've had a good week."

There. Right there. He looked away, shuffled his hooves, and wound up pointing in exactly the same direction as before. It's like he's doing it without even thinking about it. (Which may be par for the course.) If the door were open, he'd be looking...somewhere inside your lab? Maybe near the center? Hard to say from here.

"And! Speaking of weeks. You...haven't found that, thing, the 5-gear shift-combine...in this week?" He asked, putting each and every one of his teeth into a grin.

Is... is he threatening me?

"No... not yet..." mumbled Milliway, "aren't you off on some daring-do? If you want another upgrade it'd take me at least a day to improve your... vehicle."

He wants something.

"Who's going with you anyway? The Administrator? Proper Process? Luminark?" she asked a little too hopefully.

[BlasTech]

Luminark's plan is essentially to lay low. He spends time lurking around either the deep stacks of the library or the garage, looking up maps and plans of things out in the world that might please the Archmage. He understands that some irrational ponies might hold incomprehensible grudges so he intends to work around other ponies for the foreseeable future.

The plan is to stow away in whatsisname - Trashcolt? - Trashcolt's car when he next leaves the station. Then with his preparation he'll have a list of places to hit up and by the time he comes back there'll be some new crisis and all will be forgotten. Flawless.

Flawless planning. One question though, how do you intend to get in there?

I mean, Trashcolt -- er, Scraps, you probably have security on your bike-truck right?

Start of Session rolls: Wealth: [roll0] +2 Barter. The Manufactory is alive and well, I see.

On the day of Scrapscallion's departure, I'm gathering everyone in the base into the atrium for an announcement.

I trot around the podium, gather my notes, and take a deep breath. "I'm sure you've noticed that things in our Bunker have been a bit more tumultuous of late than anypony would like. It is a sad, sad state of affairs. Some of our colleagues have been injured because somepony here does not have friendship in their heart!" I'm pacing, military, straight backed, feet clopping down like bullets. "And I am furious--furious!--that it has escaped my notice long enough to be a problem! In our Bunker, you know that anypony can come to see me, discuss what they think should be done, that our home can be improved. But this pony--nay, this unpony, for no pony could strike at their own in such a manner--did nothing of the sort! They, for reasons known only to them, chose instead to hurt innocent ponies! They have committed the capital crime of disrupting the peace of Our Bunker!

"So now, we need to find them! We need to find where they hide, who they are! And I charge all of you--be wary! Any one of you could be the traitor, so the key is Constant! Vigilance!"

The notepads slam to the podium hard enough to leave a dent. "And if anypony knows anything, I command you to come forward now, and tell me."
[Towering Presence: [roll1]. Who's moving?]

The group shuffles its collective hooves, with most of the ponies hiding amongst one another to try to avoid drawing your attention or wrath. It's helped by the fact that most of the ponies who would nominally be "in charge" of the various divisions are either recovering in the medibay, locked up in your prison cells or dead. Everyone else adopts an air of "Hey, I'm not in charge. That responsibility thing, that's somepony else's problem"

There's only a few of the leaders there to bear the brunt of your order: Proper Process, who was still walking with assistance after the blast, as well as Carat and Absorber Rod, who had been absent from the staff meeting and subsequent roundup. The heads of the various Friendship Patrol squadrons line the wall behind you.

Rod stepped forward.

"Uh, I'm not sure if it's relevant or not, your administrator-ness. But we found a dead pony down in the maintenance tunnels the other day. One of my teams got attacked by somepony down near trash compactor four. They didn't get a look at them, but whoever it was hit them hard and got away in the confusion."

"We're still investigating this, ma'am" added Forced Smile. "Right now, we don't know who the attacker was, but the dead pony was Power Overwhelming. We've got her body down at the morgue."

[Just to be clear, Shimmer, Towering Presence needs to be directed at a specific target. It says "someone", singluar, after all. Gonna pick the target for you here, and happy to do it where you leave the option to me, but there may come a time where it's not that useful in a crowd situation.]

The Scrapscallion laughed a totally normal laugh. The type that normal ponies make all the time. That's the laugh he did. "Yeah. Or stabbed, or shot, or shot and stabbed, or on fire - I, I'd probably be able to hear that one from here - or crushed in a horrible lab accident deep underground where nobody'd ever find you so hey! Five for five! Guess that's two of us who've had a good week."

There. Right there. He looked away, shuffled his hooves, and wound up pointing in exactly the same direction as before. It's like he's doing it without even thinking about it. (Which may be par for the course.) If the door were open, he'd be looking...somewhere inside your lab? Maybe near the center? Hard to say from here.

"And! Speaking of weeks. You...haven't found that, thing, the 5-gear shift-combine...in this week?" He asked, putting each and every one of his teeth into a grin.

Tick tock, time's a-wasting. Don't forget, you've gotta get a moving soon if you want to make the best use of daylight Scraps!

[TheAmishPirate]

I mean, Trashcolt -- er, Scraps, you probably have security on your bike-truck right?

Yeah, I got security on my ride. For one, I got the only key, so good luck driving off with it. But on the off-chance some maniac manages to get the engine running, unless they know the secret way to shift the pedals to engage the clutch - a little something I put on all my bikes - then they aren't gonna get more than a few dozen yards before the engine cuts out. That'll learn 'em.

As for the storage compartment, it's got two locks on it; one internal, one external. The internal one is like one of those bar things that shifts around, fits into slots on the top and bottom, y'know? The external lock is good a good old-fashioned heavy padlock and length of chain. And again, I keep the keys with me, so I'm the only one who has access, short of a crowbar. And I think I'd notice if somebody pried their way in.

Tick tock, time's a-wasting. Don't forget, you've gotta get a moving soon if you want to make the best use of daylight Scraps!

Yeah, yeah, I know. Just...just gimme a sec, alright?

Is... is he threatening me?

"No... not yet..." mumbled Milliway, "aren't you off on some daring-do? If you want another upgrade it'd take me at least a day to improve your... vehicle."

He wants something.

"Who's going with you anyway? The Administrator? Proper Process? Luminark?" she asked a little too hopefully.

"Luminark? That nerd?" The Scrapscallion laughed, for real this time. "Haven't you heard? He swiped a pair of Deathclaw claws from the Princess, right in front of her. Nopony's seen him all week. Loser probably ran for the hills, crying or wetting himself or some lame combination of the two."

Shoot. Shoot. Why did he say that? Why in Equestria did he say that?! Why would he go for the gross in front of- "Which doesn't really matter; I ride alone baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaye myself. By myself." Abort. Abort. ABORT. "And! Speaking of rides, when I come back from this ride, you'd better have room for a gear shift combine!" He stepped back.

"...because when I come back, I'll have one!" He backed off again.

"...and then you'll have it!" Straight back he went.

"...so you'd better have room for it!"

*whump* He backed his rump straight into the wall.

"...peace!" And with that, he stiffly pranced off towards the hangar.

Well, if nothing else Milliway, he just gave you a neat, straight path in line with where he'd been facing. It'd be child's play for you to map out. Tell me; when do you realize he's been pointing straight at the Crystal Heart all this time?

And Glimglam, what awaits the Scrapscallion when he gets to his bike?

[Elanorin]

"Luminark? That nerd?" The Scrapscallion laughed, for real this time. "Haven't you heard? He swiped a pair of Deathclaw claws from the Princess, right in front of her. Nopony's seen him all week. Loser probably ran for the hills, crying or wetting himself or some lame combination of the two."

Deathclaw claws? What's he going to do with Deathclaw claws? Comb his mane?

Milliway's face furrowed in to a frown as she wondered if this were diamond Deathclaw claws, because she could find use for that, she was sure. If nothing else for those booby traps she'd decided to set up.

"Which doesn't really matter; I ride alone baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaye myself. By myself. And! Speaking of rides, when I come back from this ride, you'd better have room for a gear shift combine!" He stepped back.

Milliway watched the screen, still frowning.

"...because when I come back, I'll have one!" He backed off again.

What is he doing?

"...and then you'll have it!" Straight back he went.

Milliway blinked, once, slowly.

"...so you'd better have room for it!"

He's gonna hit that wall.

*whump* He backed his rump straight into the wall.

"...peace!"

Milliway's frown turned in to a scowl as she did a double take between Scrap and the Crystal Heart, eyeing his angle and the invisible line of intent between the two points.

He wouldn't dare.

And with that, he stiffly pranced off towards the hangar.

Milliway cut the connection with a snap and kick and the monitor went dark.

He wouldn't dare.

But just to be on the safe side, she went to check on it, and polish it a little, before finishing up and sneaking off outside to spy on the great departure.

[Thanqol]

Flawless planning. One question though, how do you intend to get in there?

I mean, Trashcolt -- er, Scraps, you probably have security on your bike-truck right?

Yeah, I got security on my ride. For one, I got the only key, so good luck driving off with it. But on the off-chance some maniac manages to get the engine running, unless they know the secret way to shift the pedals to engage the clutch - a little something I put on all my bikes - then they aren't gonna get more than a few dozen yards before the engine cuts out. That'll learn 'em.

As for the storage compartment, it's got two locks on it; one internal, one external. The internal one is like one of those bar things that shifts around, fits into slots on the top and bottom, y'know? The external lock is good a good old-fashioned heavy padlock and length of chain. And again, I keep the keys with me, so I'm the only one who has access, short of a crowbar. And I think I'd notice if somebody pried their way in.

While Luminark has access to a vast and weird array of magical techniques that would enable him to conquer mere mundane locks with trivial ease he is aware that the unenlightened who hunt him may be looking for signs of magical tampering.

So instead he just straps himself to the underside of the vehicle, Sideshow Bob style.

[Balmas]

There's only a few of the leaders there to bear the brunt of your order: Proper Process, who was still walking with assistance after the blast, as well as Carat and Absorber Rod, who had been absent from the staff meeting and subsequent roundup. The heads of the various Friendship Patrol squadrons line the wall behind you.

Rod stepped forward.

"Uh, I'm not sure if it's relevant or not, your administrator-ness. But we found a dead pony down in the maintenance tunnels the other day. One of my teams got attacked by somepony down near trash compactor four. They didn't get a look at them, but whoever it was hit them hard and got away in the confusion."

"We're still investigating this, ma'am" added Forced Smile. "Right now, we don't know who the attacker was, but the dead pony was Power Overwhelming. We've got her body down at the morgue."

[Just to be clear, Shimmer, Towering Presence needs to be directed at a specific target. It says "someone", singluar, after all. Gonna pick the target for you here, and happy to do it where you leave the option to me, but there may come a time where it's not that useful in a crowd situation.]

"How large a person? What are the distinguishing wound marks?" Starlight huffed. "Dear sweet me, man, we have a coroner. How'd she die?"

[BlasTech]

While Luminark has access to a vast and weird array of magical techniques that would enable him to conquer mere mundane locks with trivial ease he is aware that the unenlightened who hunt him may be looking for signs of magical tampering.

So instead he just straps himself to the underside of the vehicle, Sideshow Bob style.

There's no way this plan can go wrong!

Okay, while you're strapping yourself to the bottom of the garbagecart. Something doesn't quite seem right. I mean, not that you've had extensive experience with being tied to the bottom of junk-buckets like this one. But something still feels a bit off.

Do you want to roll sharp here?

"How large a person? What are the distinguishing wound marks?" Starlight huffed. "Dear sweet me, man, we have a coroner. How'd she die?"

"Uh. They didn't get a good look at them, ma'am. Something tripped the steam vents, flooded the area with hot vapour. Amongst all the confusion, the only thing my guys told me was that whoever it was packed a mean hook." replied Rod, nervous at this line of questioning. "You'd do best to ask them direct if you want the whole story ma'am. Horse's mouth and all that."

"As for Power Overwhelming. All I heard was that she'd had her throat slit. I can get Dem Bones to come speak to you if you want more details on how he's going with the autopsy."

But just to be on the safe side, she went to check on it, and polish it a little, before finishing up and sneaking off outside to spy on the great departure.

Tell me, Milliway, how does the heart feel to you when you polish it? Does it respond in any way, glow any more fiercely?

What's it like, when you're nearby?

And Glimglam, what awaits the Scrapscallion when he gets to his bike?

Gonna requote this question for you, Glim Glam. What's going on topside as far as the expedition goes? Are you letting Scraps go off solo, or are there any of your guys along for the ride?

[Balmas]

"Uh. They didn't get a good look at them, ma'am. Something tripped the steam vents, flooded the area with hot vapour. Amongst all the confusion, the only thing my guys told me was that whoever it was packed a mean hook." replied Rod, nervous at this line of questioning. "You'd do best to ask them direct if you want the whole story ma'am. Horse's mouth and all that."

"As for Power Overwhelming. All I heard was that she'd had her throat slit. I can get Dem Bones to come speak to you if you want more details on how he's going with the autopsy."

"Very well," Starlight grumbled. "I'm going to meet with Dem Bones. If there's anypony from the attack who isn't in the medbay, send them to my office."

Gonna requote this question for you, Glim Glam. What's going on topside as far as the expedition goes? Are you letting Scraps go off solo, or are there any of your guys along for the ride?

Well, the most obvious thing is that Scrapscallion is to put in all the effort he can to ensure that power is restored to Our Bunker's defenses. And as there's hardly room for an entire platoon on that abomination he calls a vehicle, there's only one trooper waiting to ride shotgun. As I recall, I sent Corporal Paddy to do the job.

Most ponies get one of two first impressions of Paddy. First is that of a chest that isn't so much barrel as it is tun, surmounted by enough whiskers to outdo an entire warren of rabbits. The second, and sadly more likely to occur, is that of a mountain rushing forward to crush you with dinner-plate sized hooves. When I first met Paddy, it was in the context of a holding cell. Paddy had made the local dentist a few bits richer when one of the stupider troopers insulted Paddy's moustache. Wasn't the first time he'd wound up there. An unruly troublemaker, but an expert in making things hurt. Actually, I might want to send him to one of our Friendship counselors, to see whether I can extract what makes him take such joy in dismantling ponies and spread it to the rest of the Friendliness squadrons.

As it is, he greets you with a hefty "Hey ho" and does an admirable job of trying to stave in your spine with a friendly pat on the back. "When do we depart?"

[Thanqol]

There's no way this plan can go wrong!

Okay, while you're strapping yourself to the bottom of the garbagecart. Something doesn't quite seem right. I mean, not that you've had extensive experience with being tied to the bottom of junk-buckets like this one. But something still feels a bit off.

Do you want to roll sharp here?

Certainly; 8, what enemy is the biggest threat to me?

[Elanorin]

Tell me, Milliway, how does the heart feel to you when you polish it? Does it respond in any way, glow any more fiercely?

What's it like, when you're nearby?

The heart is warm, did I mention I once used it as a hot water bottle? Back in the day before I'd figured out how to tap in to it. Warm, faintly vibrating, as if it's humming only no sound can be heard. It's smooth and gleaming and sends little shivers of make-feel-nice all over you. Time seems to slow down, or perhaps speed up, and if you're not careful, you could easily spend a whole day with it. More maybe. It doesn't really react in any way when I touch it other than the fact that it gives me a slight sparkly glow. It wears off soon enough, but while it lasts it feels really nice. Even I can't help but smile and walk with a hop and a skip.

When I'm near it doesn't react at all. It's as if its attention (if it has such) is entirely directed elsewhere and whatever I'm doing is just a distraction which it may or may not notice at all. Though, saying that, there was this one time. Not that long ago. I'd just spotted the theft of my eye, and obviously knew the piece of *ambient background noise briefly blocks out voice* that was behind it, and I was briefly running through options with myself, out loud, what I'd do to him. Then, the light it gives off, faded oddly. Stayed dimmed until House made me laugh showing me the latest apprentice application.

Should probably look in to that.

[TheAmishPirate]

But just to be on the safe side, she went to check on it, and polish it a little, before finishing up and sneaking off outside to spy on the great departure.

While Luminark has access to a vast and weird array of magical techniques that would enable him to conquer mere mundane locks with trivial ease he is aware that the unenlightened who hunt him may be looking for signs of magical tampering.

So instead he just straps himself to the underside of the vehicle, Sideshow Bob style.

Well, the most obvious thing is that Scrapscallion is to put in all the effort he can to ensure that power is restored to Our Bunker's defenses. And as there's hardly room for an entire platoon on that abomination he calls a vehicle, there's only one trooper waiting to ride shotgun. As I recall, I sent Corporal Paddy to do the job.

Most ponies get one of two first impressions of Paddy. First is that of a chest that isn't so much barrel as it is tun, surmounted by enough whiskers to outdo an entire warren of rabbits. The second, and sadly more likely to occur, is that of a mountain rushing forward to crush you with dinner-plate sized hooves. When I first met Paddy, it was in the context of a holding cell. Paddy had made the local dentist a few bits richer when one of the stupider troopers insulted Paddy's moustache. Wasn't the first time he'd wound up there. An unruly troublemaker, but an expert in making things hurt. Actually, I might want to send him to one of our Friendship counselors, to see whether I can extract what makes him take such joy in dismantling ponies and spread it to the rest of the Friendliness squadrons.

As it is, he greets you with a hefty "Hey ho" and does an admirable job of trying to stave in your spine with a friendly pat on the back. "When do we depart?"

First things first; the Scrapscallion stood stock-still, breathing deeply as he focused all his energy on not collapsing to the floor in a lame heap.

Second things second; the Scrapscallion collapsed to the floor in a lame heap. Fortunately, the hangar was totally abandoned except for the two of them, and not a single other pony saw him eat dirt.

"What I said," He staggered upright. "Was that we leave as soon as you *ow* get your flank on board. Let's *hurk* do this thing!" While space was limited on the helm of the Peregrine Mk. V, there was enough room for a second pony to ride shotgun behind him. Plenty more could ride in the storage compartment, so there was rarely a need to go more than two up front. Shenanigans excluded.

Once Paddy was strapped in, the Scrapscallion would flick on the ignition, and kick the bike into high gear. The road was calling his name, and he had no intention of making her wait.

[Thanqol]

First things first; the Scrapscallion stood stock-still, breathing deeply as he focused all his energy on not collapsing to the floor in a lame heap.

Second things second; the Scrapscallion collapsed to the floor in a lame heap. Fortunately, the hangar was totally abandoned except for the two of them, and not a single other pony saw him eat dirt.

OH CELESTIA HE'S SEEN ME, BLAST HI - Luminark caught the fireball just before it left his horn. He hadn't been seen. He didn't need to panic. Phew. That was fine. No panicking.

So what had he just seen? Did... did Recycling Filly just faceplant for no reason? That was both amusing and entirely in character. He would permit himself a cultured but dismissive chuckle if he was not involved in a stealth operation. But what if it was a seizure? And he was going to drive? That was hardly safe! He should demand a qualified professional and not an epileptic earth pony! When all this was over he'd give the medical board a piece of his mind, count on that!

[BlasTech]

Certainly; 8, what enemy is the biggest threat to me?

Well, it's probably the pony that hooked the weird blinky device onto the bottom of Scrap-pony's hoversled.

You've only really noticed it because none of the other grav-projectors have a similar module attached. So it looks a bit out of place. What with its blinky lighted-ness and probably some wires and stuff. Earth pony contraption most like, but who knows what it does?

At least you're still on the ground here, where you can easily get away from it if necess--

First things first; the Scrapscallion stood stock-still, breathing deeply as he focused all his energy on not collapsing to the floor in a lame heap.

Second things second; the Scrapscallion collapsed to the floor in a lame heap. Fortunately, the hangar was totally abandoned except for the two of them, and not a single other pony saw him eat dirt.

"What I said," He staggered upright. "Was that we leave as soon as you *ow* get your flank on board. Let's *hurk* do this thing!" While space was limited on the helm of the Peregrine Mk. V, there was enough room for a second pony to ride shotgun behind him. Plenty more could ride in the storage compartment, so there was rarely a need to go more than two up front. Shenanigans excluded.

Once Paddy was strapped in, the Scrapscallion would flick on the ignition, and kick the bike into high gear. The road was calling his name, and he had no intention of making her wait.

OH CELESTIA HE'S SEEN ME, BLAST HI - Luminark caught the fireball just before it left his horn. He hadn't been seen. He didn't need to panic. Phew. That was fine. No panicking.

So what had he just seen? Did... did Recycling Filly just faceplant for no reason? That was both amusing and entirely in character. He would permit himself a cultured but dismissive chuckle if he was not involved in a stealth operation. But what if it was a seizure? And he was going to drive? That was hardly safe! He should demand a qualified professional and not an epileptic earth pony! When all this was over he'd give the medical board a piece of his mind, count on that!

Well, Scraps, you're airborne. Congrats. While you're flying, Paddy settles in to the cockpit. His massive girth takes up his seat, the aisle between you two, and part of your armrest. Whether or not you object to this out loud depends on how much you enjoy picking verbal fights with ponies three times your size whose idea of in-flight entertainment involves sharpening their massive combat knife.

With the road calling out to you, where are you headed? Is this something that you've had planned out in advance, or are you letting the winds guide you? In the latter case, open your brain!

Luminark. You're now airborne - strapped to the bottom of a high-speed vehicle - and eyeballing a weird blinky device that's just out of reach.

What do you do?

The heart is warm, did I mention I once used it as a hot water bottle? Back in the day before I'd figured out how to tap in to it. Warm, faintly vibrating, as if it's humming only no sound can be heard. It's smooth and gleaming and sends little shivers of make-feel-nice all over you. Time seems to slow down, or perhaps speed up, and if you're not careful, you could easily spend a whole day with it. More maybe. It doesn't really react in any way when I touch it other than the fact that it gives me a slight sparkly glow. It wears off soon enough, but while it lasts it feels really nice. Even I can't help but smile and walk with a hop and a skip.

When I'm near it doesn't react at all. It's as if its attention (if it has such) is entirely directed elsewhere and whatever I'm doing is just a distraction which it may or may not notice at all. Though, saying that, there was this one time. Not that long ago. I'd just spotted the theft of my eye, and obviously knew the piece of *ambient background noise briefly blocks out voice* that was behind it, and I was briefly running through options with myself, out loud, what I'd do to him. Then, the light it gives off, faded oddly. Stayed dimmed until House made me laugh showing me the latest apprentice application.

Should probably look in to that.

Probably.

In the meantime though, there's work to be done. As you click and snap the various components together for the communications rig, your workshop lights flicker. Each of House's monitors brown out briefly before returning to their neutral blue.

Tell me, when you're communicating with House, what's it like?

"Very well," Starlight grumbled. "I'm going to meet with Dem Bones. If there's anypony from the attack who isn't in the medbay, send them to my office."

You find Dem Bones down in his office in the morgue. A few sterile gurneys lie unoccupied, and there's a row of cold-storage lockers along one of the walls. Bones' desk is in the far corner, and from the sound of the snoring, he's taking one of his highly frequent catnaps.

From the smell of the booze in the air, the nap was probably brought on by something strong enough to strip paint.

[Thanqol]

Luminark. You're now airborne - strapped to the bottom of a high-speed vehicle - and eyeballing a weird blinky device that's just out of reach.

What do you do?

Oh no there's a bomb on this bike and if it goes under 60KM it'll explode and if we go over 60KM we'll explode because Recycling Filly will crash us out of raw incompetence and then the bomb will explode as well so we'll explode twice and oh Celestia that ground is going by really fast and this wasn't a good idea I want off Mr. Rich's Wild Ride and oh no it was made by earth ponies out of wires and rocks and I'm too pretty to die

Okay. It's like ripping off a bandaid. Just. Grab the thing. And toss it away. It's attached to the bottom of the trash mobile. So just pull off the panel it's stuck to. It'll be fine. Everything is fine. Just wait until we're going fast enough to outrun the explosion. Then do the thing. You got this.

[If it's any sort of roll that roll is a 3.]

[BlasTech]

Oh no there's a bomb on this bike and if it goes under 60KM it'll explode and if we go over 60KM we'll explode because Recycling Filly will crash us out of raw incompetence and then the bomb will explode as well so we'll explode twice and oh Celestia that ground is going by really fast and this wasn't a good idea I want off Mr. Rich's Wild Ride and oh no it was made by earth ponies out of wires and rocks and I'm too pretty to die

Okay. It's like ripping off a bandaid. Just. Grab the thing. And toss it away. It's attached to the bottom of the trash mobile. So just pull off the panel it's stuck to. It'll be fine. Everything is fine. Just wait until we're going fast enough to outrun the explosion. Then do the thing. You got this.

[If it's any sort of roll that roll is a 3.]

Right, well defusing the device whilst strapped to the bottom of a high speed, hover vehicle sounds like an Acting Under Fire to me.

Oh look, this one comes pre-rolled.

Anyway, as you tear the thing off, it trails a bunch of electronic components and sparks after it. A spiderweb of electricity arcs out from the grav projector to the other nearby ones, and the whole vehicle begins to lose control at an unhealthy rate.

Luminark, you're still barrelling along at a decent click. While Scraps, your ride has just decided to fall out from under you.

What do you two do?

[TheAmishPirate]

With the road calling out to you, where are you headed? Is this something that you've had planned out in advance, or are you letting the winds guide you? In the latter case, open your brain!

Both! Sorta.

The Scrapscallion knows exactly where he's headed; the nearest storm generator. It's hidden inside of this rock that looks like a face. Or maybe it is a face? Might be a metaphor, he hasn't seen it in a long time. Point being, he knows where he's going to end up. He knows roughly the direction he's going. But he hasn't, like, mapped out an exact route. That's for dorks and lesser wimps. The road is full of surprises, and it's anypony's guess exactly how he'll get from Point A to Point B.

But whatever it is, he can guarantee it'll be rad.

Right, well defusing the device whilst strapped to the bottom of a high speed, airborne vehicle sounds like an Acting Under Fire to me.

Oh look, this one comes pre-rolled.

Anyway, as you tear the thing off, it trails a bunch of electronic components and sparks after it. A spiderweb of electricity arcs out from the grav projector to the other nearby ones, and the whole vehicle begins to lose altitude at an unhealthy rate.

Luminark, you're still a few hundred feet up. While Scraps, your ride has just decided to fall out from under you.

What do you two do?

...or, it would be, if the Peregrine didn't decide to crap out on him. Fortunately, the Scrapscallion was a trained professional, expert in such matters as crash landings.

He spied out a long hunk of rooftop, collapsed at a weird angle, and decided the best approach would be to do a sick grind off of it to lower his speed. Kicking on the air brakes, he jerked the whole bike sideways and braced for impact.

[Thanqol]

Right, well defusing the device whilst strapped to the bottom of a high speed, airborne vehicle sounds like an Acting Under Fire to me.

Oh look, this one comes pre-rolled.

Anyway, as you tear the thing off, it trails a bunch of electronic components and sparks after it. A spiderweb of electricity arcs out from the grav projector to the other nearby ones, and the whole vehicle begins to lose altitude at an unhealthy rate.

Luminark, you're still a few hundred feet up. While Scraps, your ride has just decided to fall out from under you.

What do you two do?

Oh no! Less than a few seconds after saving everypony's lives that stupid earth pony driver is going to get him killed! This is all his fault! And the administrator's for not recognizing that he had a science-critical need for those dog hands! And Miliway's - because - because she probably built this stupid floating camper van! All these earth ponies were in on it together!

Someone else was going to solve this for him. Fair's fair - he clearly couldn't be held accountable. The gemstone on his forehead crackled, turned a vibrant shade of pink, and started to suck up passing ghosts.

[Open your brain: 11. Luminark's thinking about getting a mechanic but he'll take anything that helps survivability.]

[Elanorin]

In the meantime though, there's work to be done. As you click and snap the various components together for the communications rig, your workshop lights flicker. Each of House's monitors brown out briefly before returning to their neutral blue.

Tell me, when you're communicating with House, what's it like?

Milliway paused, or froze on the spot, more like, as the myriad of monitors blinked out briefly.

That's... not a good sign.

*

Talking to House? House is... the only one who really understands me. He's the only one whose company never gets tiresome. He's efficient, well informed (obviously), precise, intelligent, to the point and direct, perhaps... sometimes... a smidge too much. He means well, even when he sometimes gets a bit tangled in Health & Safety directives. He has a calm and masculine voice, never gets ratty or snarky and always sides with me.

House started out as a simple automation of some simple systems that would save me time. But when it turned out good I kept adding systems until he pretty much spanned my whole workshop and little by little he became a digital assistant of sorts. And when he got The Heart... he became much more than that.

So talking to House is easy. Comfortable. It's as natural to me as thinking. Oh! A thought interface! I should totally make one of those!