Randimaxis

Silver didn't hesitate for even a second. "Sure, sure, sure... I'm more than capable of keeping her safe - after all, I know where all the UNsafe places are at the quarry, so it's just a matter of finding the direct opposite of dangerous here. That would probably be the manor house, but I'm fairly certain that the Blackwaters wouldn't approve of simply letting a random filly stay in one of their rooms... well, Dax might, but that'd be about it." She paced a moment, then her muzzle lit up. "I know! The statue garden! It's kindly overgrown and nobody truly pays much attention to it; it'd be perfect... with a little work, of course. Which I can do, no doubt! I'll be a cleaning dynamo! Okay, maybe not so much of a dynamo, but more like a whirlwind of pony-bourne reclamation!" Again, she glanced over the little thing, sleeping peacefully, and her heart went out to her. Silver had sort of gathered the impression that the excitable little Blitz had been on her own... and for quite a while. The scuffed hooves, the random spots of soot in an uncared-for coat, the lack of self-control that was a hallmark of children who had inattentive or absent parents... Doc Zinger's estimation was pretty much all the confirmation she needed to that end. She turned to the Doc once more. "We can keep her overnight in my shed, but starting tomorrow, I can get things cleared enough back there to maybe even set up a small shack there for her... oooh, I smell a PROOOO-JEEEECT coming on!" Her gaze returned to the little genius, and she spoke softly to the doctor. "I'll be staying here tonight... um, with her. Tomorrow, I'd like to discuss what she might need, health-wise, and you can start teaching me what I'll need to know to get this little logic bomb into tip-top shape... i-if that's okay with you, of course?" Taps gave a slight sigh, then shook her head. "Stubborn... but that trait works better here than you'd think, and it at least proves you're no pushover." She looked thoughtful, then let out a huge yawn and blinked. "Believe me, don't believe me... as long as you keep the secret of my REAL profession, I frankly don't have much reason to care what you think... however, at the same time, I can try to see if there's some way to get things settled between you and the Blackwaters. Not like it's my job, mind you... but far be it for me to just let this go - especially after investing time and effort into saving a life, however ungrateful the save-ee might be." The little mailmare sighed, then made her way around the counter to reach the door. "Okay, bottom line - the only safe place for me to actually talk is inside the Pony Express office, so don't go trying to start up a conversation OUTSIDE of here with me... and keep my identity a secret, or we BOTH get our flanks in jeopardy. Aside from those things, you keep cooking and I'll dig into the paper files; when I find something that helps prove what I'm telling you, then I'll present it. For now? I'm exhausted - bedtime for me. And you..?" She gave a smirk that was half-pleasant, and half-snark. "YOU will be responsible for breakfast in the morning - and I can tell you from experience, you DON'T want to be late with breakfast, I promise you. Regardless, good night." With that said, Taps opened the door and motioned out with a sweeping bow. Not a word passed her lips from the moment the door had been opened, but the look in the mailmare's mismatched eyes said everything: Now, Scarlet had a royal duty, too... to keep Taps' identity to herself. Vylia's smile was slow, but broadened as she spoke up. "Actually... I know just the spot, dearie! There's a statuary on the quarry grounds - it would need a bit of tidying up, but otherwise it would be a splendid place to have a gathering! Given a day or two, I'm fairly certain it could be brought up to par, and it has the added bonus of being historical to our family as well," she turned to Dax, "isn't that right, Daxter?" Dax, put on the spot, didn't hesitate one whit. "It is - one of our ancestors, the Grand Master Sculptor Chisel Black, left a number of her works there, as it was once her workshop before it feel into disrepair. The shed there is long rusted away, but her statues are all over the place down there. Her masterpieces are kept there, as they were too big to move, and there's a small creek and a number of grapevines that grow down there. We coul-" "SPLEN-did! As you see, it will be a place steeped in history and filled with art - what more could anypony ask for? Trust me, dearie - the guests will be so jealous, we may have to offer pea soup so they can hide the tint of green they'll be turning!" With that, the pegasus stood and stretched her wings languidly. "Shall I escort you to your room, dearest Viscountess? There will be MUCH for us tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to your critique on how well the beds sleep!" Dax leaned in towards Low Key. "We can meet tomorrow, by the front gates - or here, if our respective caretakers don't let us into the quarry for whatever reason. But still, g'night - oh, and don't sleep on the big, round cushion in the floor; it's a heated tub cover, and you'll wake up sopping wet." Dax gave Carnelian a gracious bow, then made his way off. Oglevy did something similar, but Key could almost swear the little brat was eyeballing him... Vylia led the two down the grand hallway, to the room they'd be staying in. Chatting the whole way, of course. The day had wound down to an end, and (in the interest of moving on) everypone found themselves face-to-face with the powerful presence of that fully-anticipated individual... THE NEXT DAY! (dun dun dunnnnnnn!) From the closest rise in the mountain path, Clod could see the massive front gates of what looked to be a small town, from the size of it... And, strangely enough, those gates were simply standing wide open. The portcullis was up, and the gates themselves were open wide enough for a workhorse to get in. No guards had noticed, no attention being called to it, not even a worker there to tell others to move along... just the massive twin doors, fully ajar and waiting for anyone to enter. Not that anything would seem out of the ordinary for anyone who wasn't a local resident at the quarry... but for those who had spent time here on the grounds of the Blackwater Mines, they would be well aware that this development was NOT the standard status quo. Those gates were usually manned and closed... However, not today, apparently...

Oh, is THAT what you want? Well, then... next I reply, I guess I'll just have to SEE about that, now won't I?

Only my hairdresser knows for sure. *wink*

Writing fanfics.

My apologies for my absence as of late - I've just been tired. You're welcome to go ahead and post; in fact, if you're arriving at night (current storyline), you would notice something very strange... PM me if you're interested, or go right ahead and post if you aren't. Either way, be my guest. And I'll be responding to the last few posters soon enough; since Hazard's been busy, I figure it'd be okay for the arc with Carnelian and Key to simply run in the background for a bit... or at least until HzT gets things squared away with exams and such. As for cwhip, I'd say Crescent probably covered up Echo and went to sleep himself, possibly in a chair (he strikes me as the kind to let her take the bed alone, such a gentlecolt) - and they can run in the backlot too, so to speak. As Mentis has been in and out lately, we can slide the cook into the background for now, too. No worries.

For being irresistibly French.

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Here! Take THIS!!!!!

Sounds like you might have something nifty here... but the sound quality is harsh, dude. From what I could hear of your lyrics, it sounds pretty cute. I'll bet with a clearer cut, it'd sound much better... so maybe see about a re-recording? Not because of your song - because of your equipment. The song? Sounds neat to me.

Discord, eh? Hmmmmmm... Well, there are a number of possibilities available for the Lord of Chaos, depending on how he decides to go when things take that bad turn. One possibility is that he's taken to the idea of whatever kind of Internet/Transmission technology is available, and so he's decided to LITERALLY become the Ghost In The Machine. He's effectively turned himself into what the cyborgs refer to as a 'Virus', and he makes himself useful by taking over small units and facilities, then utilizing those resources to wreak havoc, even if only for a moment. Then, he transmits himself to the next target. Another thought is that Ol' Discy is a prisoner of the cyborgs - but the nanites can't infect him, due to his chaotic nature as opposed to their 'nature' towards order. Therefore, he could currently be held in some sort of cell or stasis, being forced to stay out of the way while the nanites do their thing. Mayhaps he's been hiding at Fluttershy's old home, acting as a secret freedom fighter for the cause, yet making his appearances as a pony, to remain incognito. Due to his mannerisms, the guise wouldn't fool the Mane 6... but anyone who hasn't met Discord wouldn't think twice. Or, Celestia help you all, he HAS been infected, and now acts as a direct bodyguard for whatever the source of the nanites' power is. He'd make one heckuva deterrent, and it would be HELL trying to get past a Draconequus with a cold and logical mind, would it not? These ideas sound feasible?

Oh YEAH?! Well, I don't THINK so! You may think you're pretty clever, but you gotta get up REEEEEEEEAL early in the morning to get one over on-... *snoring*

My Dream Machine... a classic 1957 Chevy Bel Air: The TRUE American Classic Automobile.

Yes. Yes, it does help.

@Denim&Venom - @Lektra Bolt - @Mentis Soliloquy Grant's eyes couldn't focus fast enough - he wanted to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. There they were, both of them - though it seemed surreal, seeing Luster done up like some sort of rocker grrrl and taking swings at Twilight Sparkle. He'd never seen the form of Sunset before, so he simply figured it was what Luster saw herself as... which, ironically, was closer to the truth than he'd ever truly know. He did take a moment to look back at Lab Tech. "Thank you. Remind me once this is over to take you out for some... uh, tea? Oil? Washer fluid? J-J-J-J-Just remind me I owe you a date, okay?" Hunh... listen to me. I'm here in the midst of one heckuva crisis... and I just got my first date. His faceplates spun into a kind smile. Then he turned to face the arena, and those same plates put on a look of determination. "Now, stand back... I have to getGETget their attention." Twitch's side panels opened wide, and once more two rods folded out and began rapidly building a pair of HUGE speakers. They simply unfolded from the single rods that extended outward, just like before - except these speakers looked... different. They were considerably wider, for one thing. For another, there was now what appeared to be a set of antennae that sprouted from the top of Twitch's head, aimed directly at the two fighters. They moved and calibrated, then Twitch began muttering what sounded like a chant from Grant himself. "M = (log M0 - 9.05) / 1.5 base... scanning for impurities... lock down on THAT frequency..." He was fine tuning his speakers; bending the inner curve of the woofers, tweaking the tweeters in a focused direction, and generally preparing himself for what he hoped would NOT be a crazy, suicidal attempt to break this up. Using his earlier scans from the lab, he began programming the speakers to produce a sound vibration that would, on a molecular level, perfectly coincide with a precise frequency that would be a perfect disharmony with both combatants' personal molecular structure. Or, in layman's terms, he was gonna channel some U2, and make both their chassis' rattle and hum. He cued up the sonic oscillator, and stepped up his reactor power input three more points before stepping forward. He was now what appeared to be a single mechanical pony between two MASSIVE speakers, aimed directly at Twilight Sparkle and Luster. He made a last, furitive sweep of his instruments, seeing each one dangerously close to redline, and the grinding in his stomach threatened to make him faint dead away. Ironically, Grant had never felt so alive. He stepped through the energy field surrounding the arena, and his sensors told him he wasn't stepping out again without the whole thing being shut down. Good, Grant thought, no way for me to chicken out. The tiniest little >pop< issued from the speaker stack as Grant turned his high-quality mic on, and he spoke a single word that both the alicorn princess and the highly-agitated mech wouldn't just hear... they would feel it make their very molecular structure quiver with the sheer raw power of fully-attuned and precisely focused vibration, aimed directly at them both. "STOP."

Why, the answer is Fluttershy, of course! ... ... ... ... and it would be MOST unwise to say anything else.

Dip gave a weird, almost honking laugh. "What story? Why, you gotta start where EV'RYBODY'S gotta start - at the beginning! Dat means where you comed from - I wanna hear the story uv YOU! Where you comed from, what you does, why you does it. DAT is awways supposed to be the FIRST story you tell when you tell stories, DUUUUUUH!" He hoped Odair wouldn't be offended, but when folks said things that Dip felt should be common knowledge, he always followed with a 'duuuuuh'; it was how he'd always been. Dip pulled out various boxes and, with the idea in mind to merely find bullets, he cheerfully dumped each one onto one of the display cases, bullets clattering to the glasstop and rolling off the sides onto the dusty floor. Eventually, he had a small mountain of ammo piled onto the countertop. [Ammunition acquired: .308 rounds x 47, .32 rounds x 112, .44 rounds x 46, 10mm rounds x 71, 12 gauge shell x 14, 5.56 rounds x 118] Dip smiled at his haul, then looked back over at Odair, making sure he was still here - the ghoul had been abandoned before, so he simply was doing so out of habit. Dip made his way over and stared at the button for all of five seconds before he reached right up and pushed it. "Eeyup."