Currently a work in progress; Progresses via chapters. [3/27/12: FOURTH CHAPTER ADDED, STORY POSTED ON GOOGLE DOCS] 2149. The glow of flourescent lights was constant down in The Cave, as the second generation of survivors lived peacefully, unaware of the world outside their steel life. Ponies trotted through the hallways, doing daily chores, and altogether keeping The Cave from becoming uninhabitable. An orange pegasus with a blue mane trotted through the science lab. Donning a lab vest, glasses, and grabbing a clipboard in his mouth, he proceeded through the chamber, into a high security room. The door he closed behind him was a steel 1256-digit lock system door, a very expensive piece of material. "Afternoon, Specs. What brings you into the tech room so late?" A white unicorn, with a scraggly black mane, asked quizzically. "I just wanted to fool around with the old HAM radio," said Specs, wiping a hoof across his snout. A century-old radio sat on a table, with wires leading to a surface antenna. Specs trotted up to the microphone, set the radio to the commonplace frequency, and spoke. "This is Tango Charlie, requesting a response. Repeat, this is Tango Charlie, requesting a response. Does anypony read, over?" The airwaves were silent. Absolutely nopony spoke back to Specs. Specs shut off the HAM radio, and gave up. "It's no use. We're the only survivors left. At least, the only intelligent ones left," thought Specs. He kicked a table over in frustration, causing some equipment to fall down. An old transceiver radio fell to the floor, landing with a thud. "Specs, be more careful!" The white pony levitated the equipment back onto the table, glaring at Specs. "You almost broke the transceiver!" "Forget it, Adversus," said Specs, with a stern tone. "It's all junk. Nopony out there uses it. If they did, we'd be out of The Cave already." Adversus shook her head. "You don't understand," said Adversus, "We could discover a civilization with this technology. It would help us reintegrate into society." Specs frowned. "You can't reintegrate into something you never integrated with," he proclaimed rudely. "You and I were born down here. We were never in civilization before. We can't reintegrate. You need to use a more correct word." Adversus kicked her hooves and glared at Specs. She hesitated, and said in an abrupt manner, "Fine. We could integrate into society. Have it your way." Specs smirked, then began to walk out the chamber. As he opened the door, a noise filled the room: Music. Adversus and Specs looked at the radio, their jaws dropped in shock. The transceiver, which had always been set to what was once a news station - 38.2 FM - began playing music. Adversus looked at Specs, and rushed through the door. "Wait! Wait for me!" <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> The Cave's leader at the time, a red Earth pony with a long fuschia mane, was in her office, voice-typing a report. "July 2nd, 2149. We still have not made any outside contact." She looked up to the ceiling for a moment, frustrated. Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. "Miss Hue! We've just made an important discovery!" Adversus was jumping up and down erratically, and Specs had a huge grin across his face. Hue looked at Adversus and said, "What is it?" "A radio station just turned on! This is a sign!" Hue smiled and said, "I'll open the bolted door." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> 2183. A spry purple pegasus, Shimmy, was flying through the streets of Povie, a small ramshackle town in the Wasteland. Shimmy was carrying an important message in her saddlebag. Merchant ponies waved at her as she carried her letter to an important pony in Povie. This letter was from the self-proclaimed Mayor. Shimmy didn't want to lose her job. With a modicum of skill, Shimmy stopped herself in front of her destination: a new shack, made of metal. "Hello? I have a letter." Shimmy stuck her head inside the shack. A dark gray unicorn, with a minty green mane, sat in a chair, wearing green-tinged sunglasses. "Well, thank you for bringing it to me. I'll see to it that this gets handled. Shimmy pulled out the letter, a scroll with a seal stamped on it. The mayor's seal from when Povie was a real town was very faded, but the new mayor did his best trying to fix it. The unicorn pulled out a stamp from a saddlebag, along with some parchment and a quill. "Miss, you can leave now," he said. Shimmy blushed. "Oh, I apologize. Have a nice day!" "You too, maam." The door to the shack shut behind Shimmy as she left to do more deliveries. "Come on... where is it..." The stallion grumbled to himself as he looked for the document he hid in his shack. "Aha!" He levitated a paper out from behind a suitcase. This paper had an insignia stamped on it: a very official-looking "L" embellished with small silver stars and a pair of wings. The top of the paper read "To: Sir Lance - From: Security Consulate Binoc". "I wonder what Binoc sent me," said Lance, as he sat down in the chair to read his document. Sir Lance, it has come to my attention that the town of Povie is in severe political dismay. If the Lance Corporation can simply purchase the town, we could improve it. A pegasus should be arriving on the twenty-third of March. She will bring you a letter from the Mayor, stamped with the old mayor seal. This letter will contain the contract. If we are lucky, then the Mayor will have signed the contract and we shall own Povie. We need to strive towards reconstructing this area of Equestria. -Binoc "Let's see..." Lance opened the scroll from the Mayor. Inside was a contract, emblazoned with the Lance Corporation seal in the top margin. And on the dotted line in the bottom margin... Lance sighed with relief. The Mayor had signed over Povie. "I wonder how other survivors are faring right around now..." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Canterlot was once the bustling capitol of Equestria before the disaster happened. A few towers collapsed, but most of the castle still stood. A single set of hooves slowly trotted through the hallway in the royal castle. Pieces of stained glass lay shattered on the floor. The armor of two gaurds lay on the ground, for their bodies had recently been removed. Another set of hooves trotted into the hallway. "Mister Ice, are you sure that we can find them?" A voice rang through the room. A rather energetic-looking pegasus, wearing a hazmat suit, asked a stallion wearing the same sort of gear. Ice turned around, the Gieger counter on his leg ticking. "They should be here. My father was the one who made the machine and sold it. I'm certain that she sold it to them. Never question my knowledge, Razor." The pegasus glared back at Ice, her Gieger counter also ticking. "Excuse me! You know, I can exit the mercenary contract anytime, Mister Ice." Ice laughed and said, "Don't worry, I still respect you. Just don't try to question my knowledge of my mothers' enterprise, please." Razor rolled her eyes. "Yes sir." Ice stomped his hoof onto the floor. Crack! The floor broke, and a piece of wood fell through the floor. Ice looked at Razor. "Mares first, as I always say." Razor jumped down into the room below the grand hall. Her Gieger counter's reading dropped by 30. This room appeared to be less irradiated than the rest of the castle. Ice jumped down behind Razor, and smiled as he observed the chamber. A few flourescent lights lit the basement of the castle. Near the end of the hall was a metal containment device with a window on the front, made with ballistic glass. There was too much frost on the glass to make out what the device contained. Emblazoned on the top of the machine was a logo, an "I Tech Co" with three green stars below the words. Adjacent to the device was a computer terminal. "Razor, you're the hacker. You crack this computer for me." Razor trotted up to the terminal. "Okay, Ice, but this'll take a while..." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Lance was sitting in his new office in Povie, wearing an orange fedora and dark sunglasses. A radio on his desk was playing rock music. "I'm glad that somepony years ago restored this station," he said himself, almost asleep. "This is the best music I've ever heard in my life." The song finally ended, and the disc jockey came on. "Afternoon, Wasteland! This is your disc jockey and news reporter, the one and only, Vinyl Scratch the Third!" Lance grinned. A faint memory began to engulf his mind. "In news today: Some stallion took control of the Povie settlement recently." "That's me!" Lance said to himself, proud of his success. "In other news, some explorers have discovered a settlement up north called 'New Manehattan'. This sounds like a great opportunity for merchants. I'd suggest anypony with half a brain invest in caravans. They're bound to expand now that Povie isn't the only settlement." Lance frowned. He hated competition. "Lastly, another radio station has been restored: 41.9 FM, a classical music station. Their disc jockey is Octavia the Third." I wonder if she's available? thought Lance as he lay back in his office chair. Knock knock! "Come in," said Lance, lounging back in his chair. A mare, wearing a Lance Corporation officer's uniform, burst into the office. She levitated a file folder out of her saddlebag. "Sir, there's been reports of an attack on Station Bravo. Here's the details. Lance opened the folder and read the paper. At approximately 1738 hours Equestrian East Standard Time (EEST), an army consisting of 450 ponies began to attack Station Bravo from the southwest. 200 of them were armed with assault rifles, 200 more with shotguns, and 50 were attempting to use makeshift trebuchets. The southwest tower, south wall, west wall, and infirmiry were destroyed in the attack. The group of soldiers fled when reinforcements from Station India arrived at 1802 hours EEST. According to Station India's commanding officer, many casualties were sustained, and seventeen soldiers were killed, including the Station Bravo commanding officer. After searching the bodies of the killed attackers, we discovered a letter on an officer's body. It was an order given by somepony referred to as the "Steel Kommandant". We're not sure who this refers to, but we think it might have originated from Fillydelphia, due to the incorporation of steel. There's a small steel mill there. It's our only lead, sir. -Station India CO Kicks Lance began to scowl, frustrated with this. "I want one half of my army to form up at Station Bravo. Five hundred riflecolts, two hundred and fifty shotgunners, and one hundred and fifty ponies operating the assault vehicles. We can thank Marezda for making those vehicles for us back before the disaster. Tell the descendant of their CEO that he has my condolences. Get my contingent on the move. There will be two divisions now: First and Second. The one we send to Station Bravo will be the First, and the rest will be called the Second Division. Move out." The mare stood at attention, saluted, and left. The Fillydelphian War had begun. [¦=Chapter Two - Maps and Doors=¦] "Done!" Ice looked at Razor as she backed away from the terminal. They'd been camping there for two days so far. Luckily, they had a large amount of supplies to keep them alive. Razor had been struggling to hack the computer, due to it being one of the most well-defended brands of computers to ever exist, manufactured by Chancellory Ltd, a prominent group of ponies dedicated to digital security. The terminal now had a few options: >Disengage chamber lock >Open chamber doors >Assessment of Product "Razor, first and second options, please." Ice had a rather commanding tone in his voice, as if he was in a hurry. The chamber's doors make a clunking sound before they opened. Gaseous ice billowed out the chamber at the bottom, revealing five half-frozen ammunition boxes, two first-aid boxes, and a well-preserved note. While Ice scrambled to pack the spoils into his hiking pack, Razor read the note out aloud. "To whomever reads this note: You should know who we are. We shall be returning in the year 2184, on the sixth of January. Expect us." The signature was very faded, but they had a good idea as to who wrote the letter. "Now, Razor, we need to head down to the safehouse. I have something to take care of," Ice said, with a chipper tune. <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> The sound of chatter sounded through the valley as the Lance Corporation's army gathered near Station Bravo. Everypony in the crowd shuffled to a state of attention as a high-ranking official climbed on top of a rock. The official, or High Sergeant Bladehoof "Everypony, there is some bad news." The crowd stayed silent, as the state of attention requires silence. "Station Bravo has been taken over by the enemy. However, we can defeat them. After all, we have something they don't: vehicles. Those assault vehicles will smash through their defenses." The ponies cheered. "Charge!" Yelled the official, as the small army galloped towards the station. The vehicles roared past the mass of soldiers, approaching at a steady pace. Boom! Several of the vehicles exploded. Soon enough, the advance was halted. The assault vehicles had begun to explode. Whoever had taken the station laid down a minefield. <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Ice stood in front of what appeared to be a decrepit metal patchwork shack. "Now, Razor, you're about to see why they call me Ice." The door of the shack opened to reveal an equally decrepit room, except for one thing that stood out from the makeshift furniture: a hatch in the floor. Ice approached the hatch, and pressed his hoof on a button that protruded from the hatch's edge. This caused the door on said hatch to open, revealing a staircase. "After you, madame," said Ice. He's been through hell and back with this cruel world, and he still has manners. Amazing, thought Razor as she descended the steps. They were made of marble, which didn't seem to make sense. Marble was usually used for large buildings, not bunkers. Flourescent lights were embedded in the ceiling to light the halls. Oddly enough, the place looked like it was in excellent condition. "Activate system function V290352." Razor snapped back into focus. She had been staring at the walls and floor. They looked like they were just as clean as they would have been back in 2085. "Razor, would you pay less attention to the floor and more attention to what I'm doing? Just because we entered a secure vault does not mean you have ceased acting as my mercenary." Ice had a rather stern look across his face. "Sorry sir, I'll try my best to pay more attention," said Razor, a little disappointed that she let herself mess up. Ice had entered a doorway - one that wasn't there before - into a long hallway. The walls were lined with strange glass tube-like machines. Inside these machines, frost and ice blocked the view from the outside. "Razor, do you know what I am?" Razor shook her head. "No sir, I do not." "I'll tell you what I am, Razor." Ice removed his hazard suit to reveal his body - a dark navy coat and a cyan mane - and his cutiemark. A suitcase. Which made sense. After all, his father ran a cryogenics industry, and Ice inherited it. Even though they didn't earn much money, it wasn't like they were getting any payments anytime soon. "Now, Razor, I do admit that you're a good mercenary. After all, the pegasus race normally had a militarized history. However, I don't think I've ever seen your cutiemark. To be honest, I'm a bit suspicious that being a mercenary is just a job for you." Razor appeared to get a little hostile with this. "This is just an excuse to look at my flank, isn't it?" Ice lost his usual smile. "Razor... no. You and I both know that I am against any sort of rude sexual advancement. Now, may I please see your cutie mark?" Razor cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, but if you do anything sudden, your head will roll on the floor of this bunker." Ice felt a shiver down his spine. He knew she was bitter, but he never knew she could be so hostile. Razor stepped out of her hazard suit. Her burgundy mane, covering patt of one of three scars, was a little ragged from the lack of brushing. Her tail, equally so. Ice observed her cutiemark, standing out from her chestnut fur. Her cutiemark appeared to be an old razor blade; the kind used to shave back before safer razors were made. This kind of razor blade resembled a miniature chef's cleaver, the kind of knife that makes deep cuts, except not as sharp or wide to prevent worse damage to the user. Ice looked Razor in the eye. "I assumed you got your name from something else, like a weapon-style razor, or the Occam's Razor theory," said Ice, with a bit of a smirk. "Pfft," said Razor, "I was meant to be a barber. Not much barbers nowadays." "I believe that." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Several of the Marezda assault vehicles lay toppled and burning along the field to the east of Station Bravo. The advance had been halted, and Lance was speaking with the leading soldiers. In front of them lay a map of the area on a table. Lance was facing the station, with the entire enemy force visible. "We've got a serious issue. How the hell do we punch past the minefield?" One of Lance's subordinates raised a hoof. "Sir, I think we should use magic to probe the fields and detonate the mines... sir? Ahem." Lance wasn't paying attention to the mare, as he watched a group of hostile soldiers walk through to the entrance. "I've got it figured out. There's no mines in front of the entrance. Swing around and invade from there." One of the subordinates, a Sergeant First Class, gasped. "Sir, we'd have moderate to severe casulties!" Lance sighed. "It's the only way," he said hesitantly, as he levitated up a lit cigarette. [¦=Chapter Three - Hot Lead=¦] Razor looked around at the several fogged machines, and began to wonder what was inside. "Er, Ice..." "Yes?" Ice raised an eyebrow. "What's in these things?" The look on Razor's face was quizzical. "Ah, those. Allow me to explain my company's purpose." Ice trotted down the hall, as Razor followed, intent on learning about Ice's ancestry. "A long time ago, as far back as 1834, an ancestor of mine created a working refrigeration machine. As time passed by, different ancestors worked in all sorts of fields regarding refrigeration. My grandfather worked in an Equestrian cryogenics project around 2030. His son carried on, and established what we today call "I Tech Co". Its actual name was Cube Cryogenics Ltd. "I Tech Co" was short for "Ice-using Technology Containment", and was our standard product sold to the government. We'd made a deal with Chancellory Ltd back in 2057 to have their computers lock up our machines. When 2086 came around and the disaster occured, my father froze himself in one of these machines. All of these machines contain ponies who wanted to save themselves and be brought back when society was re-established." Ice reached the end of the hallway, where an ornate I Tech Co machine stood. A silver and gold plaque above the fogged doot read, "Cube Cryogenics Ltd CEO, Frost". A paper note below it, with hastily written instructions, read Open when necessary or when society is back. Razor looked closely at the transparent door. She could see a stallion inside, his mane turned slightly gray from age. He was definitely Ice's father, as his cutiemark sported a profits chart. The mane, aside from the gray bits, was jet black. His fur coat was a light beige. "So this is your father, Ice?" Razor asked. "Yes it is, the one and only Frost! He was a legend in the business world. As a matter of fact, when many companies were constantly hacked and compromised, he resorted to paper, and when he finally got the respect of Chancellory Ltd, there was no way the customers' info would ever be taken. On top of that, the stocks were always in great condition, even during the 2042 recession." Razor smiled. "Your ancestry sounds amazing." Ice nodded his head. "Yep. We had this big mansion a few miles east of this place called Ponyville, a quaint little town, and the hill it was on allowed us to observe all of the plains between Fillydelphia, Canterlot, and Everfree Forest." Razor thought for a second. "You know, I think we should go see what happened to those cities!" She looked excited, ready for adventure. Ice looked at her. "Well, we already saw Canterlot, so how about we check out Ponyville, see what's there?" Razor was spastic. She absolutely [/i]loved this kind of stuff. "Let's go!" The mare flew up the hallway and stairs, then out of the shack door. Ice teleported up to her. "Not so fast, I don't have wings." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> The sound of gunshots rang through the air. Station Bravo was being stormed through the entrance. Its defensing soldiers were dropping as easily as Lance's were. Lance was riding in the passenger seat of a Marezda assault vehicle as the driver sat motionless. The guncolt in the back rolled off round and round from a mounted minigun, ripping the defenders to shreds. "All out, charge the gate!" The driver quickly smashed the pedal to the floor of the truck, blasting forward and knocking the gates apart, trampling some defending stallions and mares in the process. The rest of the army galloped in and quickly cleaned out the enemy. Lance hopped out the door of the truck, still smoking a cigarette. He glanced as his watch, then approached one of the bodies. Squiting through his dark sunglasses, he observed the bloodied uniform. "I know who they are." Lance gestured for an officer. "You. Write down the following for me." The officer levitated out a notepad and a pen. "This is an official record, to be archived. Station Bravo was stormed by the Steel Battalion. These thugs appear to be operating out of the Fillydelphian ruins. Mark my words, they will not survive. Lance." The officer closed the pen and stored the paper in a saddlebag. "Take that to the Tower. Now." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> "Oooohhh, we get to go explore some more! This is gonna be so awesome!" Razor was hell-bent to witness the remains of the old towns. "Haha, okay Razor. Well, according to the map, we're at a farm." Ice looked up from an old road map to look around. Whatever farm this was, it was still in moderate condition. Apples were still being harvested. Some specific, decrepit-looking trees were guarded by a few stallions donning saddle shotguns. A mare was sitting in a rocking chair. She appeared to be "over the hill", as some call it. "Afternoon, madam." Ice approached the mare, smiling. "Hello! My name's Perrine. This here's a lemon farm." Ice craned his neck and said, "Don't you think the climate here is too temperate to be growing lemons?" He looked a tad concerned. "Nope!" Perrine smiled. "They grow perfectly. Don't know what the hay those weird trees over there are for, though." She gestured towards the decrepit-looking trees. "If you have no use for them, why guard them?" Ice was dumbfounded. "We found a cellar over there, and we store the lemons in it!" Perrine snapped back. "Well, uh, how about we check this town out, Razor?" Ice looked at the mare. "Sure, let's go!" Razor trotted past Ice into the town. A few ponies were working vendor stands. "Hello, maam! Welcome to Povie!" Ice glanced at his map. "So that's what you all have done with this place?" He looked up at one vendor. The shopkeeper smiled and said, "Yep! We found this place and fixed it all up! It got even better when Mayor Lance took office!" "Mayor... Lance?" Ice's voice wavered a tad. "Is something wrong, Ice?" Razor looked at him, worried. "Huuuuuuuh..." Ice fainted and landed to the ground with a thud. <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> The sun was around the middle area of the sky, signaling that it was currently noon. Light from the sun glinted off of a nearly-polished office building. The original Lance Corporation headquarters: 100 floors of corporate history. On top of this structure was a radio tower, to be used only for militant purposes. The solar plant nearby still kept the tower fully powered, and the doors were automatic. An officer, who appeared to be a slight bit exhausted, galloped through the automatic door. He was moving with a purpose, for in his saddlebag, he carried sensitive information regarding the conflict at Station Bravo. "Maam." He greeted the desk worker with a tip of his helmet. "I need this to go to Archivals." The officer placed the file on the desk. "Just one second, Officer... Shade, was it?" The receptionist glanced up at him. "Yes, maam." He didn't appear to be in a rush anymore. After all, he'd arrived. Why would he have to hurry back? "Okay, Shade, Officer Data is on his way. Have a nice day, sir!" She looked up from her computer and smiled. "Have a nice day, maam." Officer Shade trotted out of the front doors. Might want to use a truck to get there faster, thought Shade. He hopped onto a MAV and drove towards Station Bravo. The on-dash radio was set to the secret Lance Corporation military broadcasting frequency. "We've sustained a victory at Station Bravo, thanks to our brave soldiers. There have been some losses recorded, including seven MAVs and around thirty stallions and mares. Reports also suggest that we now know the enemy, a Steel Battalion. As the name suggests, this group is likely small in numbers, but appears to be rather fierce and strategic when it comes to attacks." The radio announcer coughed. It sounded as if he was smoking while on the radio. "To know your enemy is half the battle," Shade whispered under his breath, as he rode up to Station Bravo. "Sir," he said to Lance, "I've sent the document up. They archived it. What is the next order, sir?" Officer Shade saluted. "Well, Officer," Lance explained, "We're going to scope out the area. Make sure we know the Steel Battalion doesn't come back." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> "Ice! Ice, are you okay?" Ice's vision began to return. Razor was looking down from above him. "What happened?" Ice seemed tired and confused. "You fainted." Razor looked worried. Ice stood up, flitting his wings to speed up his ascension. "What caused it? I can't seem to recall the last thing I heard before blacking out." "Well, uh," Razor explained, her voice cracking, "something about the mayor being somepony called Lance." Ice's eyes grew wide. "I... I know that name, Razor..." He began to pace back and forth, his mane horribly messy from his worriedness. "Lance was a CFO when my father was alive. I don't understand how he is still alive. Razor, something strange is going on. This doesn't make any sense. Lance Corporation never bought any of our cryogenic storage machines! How is he alive?!" Ice was panicing. His pupils shrank, and his breathing became irregular. Razor tried to calm him. "It's going to be fine," she stressed, attempting to fix his breathing. "I'll investigate this. Why don't you just stay here and rest." "Okay..." Ice didn't sound too happy about this. He seemed eager to go with her. "I'll be back when I find out," said Razor, with a reassuring look on her face. <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Lance went back into his office. "Computer, active function WS003." Ding! The screen lit up as a documentation program started up. "Today was a great success. We were able to reclaim Station Bravo. Moderate amount of casualties, which is bad. We don't really have a huge amount of civilians we can draft." The documentation program typed his every word. A useful system, as he had hooves. Nopony in the Wasteland, or as it once was, Equestria, was capable of manual typing if they didn't possess a specific device. Such a device was nearly mandatory in order to use a computer. Many used it to hack security computers. However, the Disaster occured before Chancellory Ltd could make their best model computer invulnerable to hacking, which left the government's security in the rut. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Sir, somepony is here to see you," a receptionist pony said through the door. "Send them in," said Lance. A chestnut mare with a burgundy mane entered the office. "Sir, I need to speak with you." Lance shot her an angry look. "Do you know who I am?" The mare raised her voice. "Do you know who I AM?! MY BOSS FAINTED TODAY BECAUSE HE HEARD YOUR NAME. Now tell me, do you know somepony by the name of Ice?" Lance slowly moved his head, looking away from her. "Maam, I know Ice from a long time ago. A very long time ago." He seemed worried. "How long?" She raised an eyebrow. "From before the disaster." [¦=Chapter Four: Old Ways=¦] It was a cold and bitter evening that Thursday night in Baltimare. Rain was pouring from the clouds. The regular evening shuffle was happening on North Coltvert street. Lance trotted into the Bank of Equestria. His face bore a grim look. He approached the counter and signed his name. "I need to withdraw all bits in all savings accounts of my ownership," he spouted in a hurried manner. The bankteller quickly did such. "Thank you for your time, sir," the employee said, giving Lance the money. "Have a nice day." Lance sped out the front door and started heading south. He stopped at the corner of South Charles Street and East Lee Street, and went into the front door of the Marecht Medical Group. "Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?" The secretary looked up from the Chancellory Ltd Deskchamp monitor. "I have an appointment. Doctor Scalpel. Floor 34." The secretary put on a set of headphones, and said into the microphone, "Dr. Scalpel, your 5:30 PM is here." A faint voice responded. "Take the elevator, sir." Lance stepped into the elevator. He better be able to do this, Lance thought to himself, glancing at his expensive Relicolt watch. Ding! Lance stepped out the open doors, and into the office of Doctor Scalpel. "Ah, Lance, are you ready for the operation?" The doctor had a strange machine in another room, with all sorts of blinking lights. "Absolutely." Lance laid down on the bed, below the machine. <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> "And then what?" Razor was confused. She knew nothing about this "Baltimare", except that it was a city that existed before the disaster. Lance had a blank look on his face. "The doctor conducted an operation that would keep me alive forever, unless I was killed." He appeared to feel ashamed at this. "I know that such an ability should have been only for the alicorns, but I couldn't resist the temptation to be superior to my business rival!" Razor leaned in closer to Lance. She could see a faint red light in his right eye. "How would you like to speak to my boss?" She looked a tad excited. Clearly, she did not know that which Lance knew. "Certainly, I'm sure whoever's hired you must enjoy your company," he chirped. It appeared that he also did not know that which she knew. "So, what's the rate he pays you for?" Lance looked a bit out of his comfort zone to be asking her this. "He doesn't pay me much. We work as a team," she said. The two trotted out the doors of the office. "He's right there, sir," she said, pointing a hoof at Ice. Lance approached Ice rather slowly. Ice's eyebrows rose at the same pace. "You... You're alive?" Each stallion was shocked by the others' presence. "Lance, I haven't a clue how you stayed alive. You didn't rent a chamber. Of course, you were father's business rival." Ice had a faint, disturbed chuckle. "Ice, I suspect you just froze yourself for a century and a half, then came back out. I, on the other hand, had an operation done." Lance had a proud, holier-than-thou look. Ice laughed. "That's amazing! I wish my father were here to see this." He tried his best not to hint at the existence of the CEO cryogenic chamber. Lance laughed. "Ah, I'm sure he's frozen himself somewhere. Well, I've got to go now. My current job is important." He briskly went back to the city hall. Ice looked around. "I still have that old road map," he said. "Want to go somewhere?" He appeared as if he wanted to put his mind at ease. Razor nodded. "How about we visit Baltimare?" Ice blinked. "I never mentioned Baltimare to you before. How do you know anything of it?" "Lance mentioned it in his story." She smiled. Ice sighed. "Alright, let's go see what's left." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Lance sat by his desk, smoking a cigarette. Should I have told her? Maybe I should have lied. I don't know... What'll happen now? His mind was racing with thoughts. He didn't have much time to ponder them, though, as a soldier suddenly burst through the doors. "Sir, we've got a problem." The soldier was sweating. Evidently he'd ran from wherever he was. Lance looked at him. "I know. I've been thinking... what if we could undo all of this?" The soldier was exhausted. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Right now, we're running out of fuel for the assault vehicles." Lance laughed. "I've got a much better plan. Get me the task force." <---=---¦[C]¦---=---> Ice and Razor approached the edge of what used to be Baltimare. "Let's see..." Ice flipped out a Gieger counter. No abnormal reading appeared. "Strange how Baltimare isn't irradiated beyond repair," Ice scoffed. A large, seemingly clean skyscraper towered above the rusted, decrepit, and weathered downtown. An old street sign adorned the corner of a slowly fading street. Small chunks of rubble littered the streets. The lack of radiation made absolutely no sense considering the destroyed conditions of the city. Ice approached the broken street sign. "East Lee Street," he mumbled to himself. The name had little meaning to him. After all, he wasn't even an adult when he was frozen. "Razor, let's go inside this building. Maybe scavenge some supplies." Razor eagerly flapped her wings and flew to the door. "After you, sir!" She laughed. "Oh, Razor, you're such a card," Ice said cheerfully, trotting into the building. The inside was just as clean as the outside. In fact, the only issue was that the sign behind the counter fell off of one of its corner hinges. "Marecht Medical Group," it read. Ice paid no mind to it. "Let's look for the medical storage," exclaimed Ice. Razor flew over to a terminal on the counter. "I'll look for a document in thi- hey, it's not secured! These ponies must've not been very smart. It's on floor 34." Ice trotted over to a stairwell. "Let's not waste time, shall we?" He began teleporting up the steps. Evidently, he didn't want to take a while. "Beat you there!" Razor flew up the stairs, being the first to reach the floor. "No you don't!" Ice teleported to the 34th floor, only to find himself beaten by Razor. "Oh well. Let's have a look around." The room was a little messy, with papers scattered on a desk. A closed door that read "Machine Room" was at the other side. "Maybe this machine room has the medical supplies," said Ice. Razor looked up from the desk, papers fluttering from her sudden movement. Her burgundy mane was scraggled from nosing through the desk drawers. "I hope so. There's nothing in this desk!" Ice opened the door. A large machine loomed above him. Riveted to the walls, the ceiling, and parts of the floor, this thing was massive. "This is... A... Oh god..." Ice gasped. "This is the machine. I know who was last here. I know it, I know it, I know it!" Razor raised an eyebrow. "Who?" Ice smiled at his bodyguard. "Lance. Hundreds of years ago." Razor's eyes widened. "Now I know! This is where he said he went back a long time ago!" BOOM! The building shook and rumbled. "What the hay?!" Ice stumbled on the shaky linoleum floor. "The place is collapsing! We gotta go!" Razor picked up the desk and threw it into the window, making a gaping hole in thw wall. She grabbed Ice and flew out the broken window. They landed on the roof of a nearby decrepit building and turned around to watch the medical center fall down on itself. Smaller explosions repeatedly knocked rubble everywhere from the base of the building. "That was weird." Ice wiped his forehead with his hoof. Razor pulled a pistol out of its holster. "There's no way that was a coincidence. Somepony, or some ponies, are out to get us." She made a few potshots at the now silent pile of rubble where the center once stood. "Don't waste ammo, Razor. We'll find them." Ice sighed. "Well, the sun is setting now. Should we head back?" Ice's mood had collapsed, just like the building. Razor reholstered the gun. "Fine," she said, "but only if we get to find out who's out to get us."
@DanSze Honestly, I thought I could have done waaaaay better. The Fillydelphian War felt rushed, and the chapter felt far too short. Then I remembered it was a fanfic, not a standard novel.
Also, this partially belongs in Grimdark as well, unless you don't find conflict and its horrors to be creepy. Which I don't, unless we're discussing the atrocities committed by soldiers, and this story won't contain that.
