>>42617209
The irony is that Rarity is probably a bigger bitch than that foid in the picture.

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>"Anon? Are you okay? You keep almost fainting..."

>>42618064
>”Yeah the pajeet nearly got me off guard.”

>>42618064
> "STOP TORTURING ME! I DON'T WANNA BE A PONY! AAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!"

>>42617338
true as it may be, rarity is a cute

>>42618064
Yeah my huge fucking cock sometimes makes me dizzy, wanna see?

>>42618064
Is your sister free?

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Getting parked on.

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>>42617338

>>42619583
There it is. My wonderful creation.

>>42619609
You don't have to say this every time it gets posted, you know. No one cares that you made it.

>>42619613
Too bad faggot I post what I please.

>>42619615
And I post what you need to hear.

>>42619618
I don't care what you have to say nigger.
My computer, my keyboard, my internet, my post.
Don't like it? Don't read it.
It's not my problem you're upset.

>>42619622
You sound awfully mad ^:)

>>42619623
Yes, you are quite mad.
I'm not your therapist so I will not be dealing with your little outbursts further until you start paying me.
I will not be replying to you after this point.

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>>42619632
>>42619623

>>42619674
>flaggot

>>42619583
That's not Pinkie.

>>42619572
This is what heaven must be like

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>>42619713

>>42620040
Till you see how much hair is on your black suit

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>>42617338
>"D-Darling? But I thought that you...that we..."
>Holding back a sob, Rarity trots away hastily.
>Without missing a beat, you open up the picnic basket, find a sandwich and start chowin' down.
>The blanket feels good under your legs, and it's a beautiful day, but still you can't stuff down the niggling notion that something has gone wrong during this exchange.
wat do?

>>42620356
Sandvich

>>42620356
>"God, what a bitch," Anon thought as she trotted away, tears causing her mascara to run
>"Just like everyone else who interacts with me. I wonder if that means something?"
>".... Nah."

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What did she see, anon?

>>42621009
Me having sex with my boyfriend and my girlfriend Mr. and Mrs. Cake.

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>>42621009
Me holding her hoof and telling her how pretty she is.

>>42621009
I had a really weird pony dream last night.
I was exploring a cave with some Russian guy for some reason when we stumbled across a bunch of seemingly ancient pony shaped artifacts.
They looked really goofy in a way I can't describe. Really long scouts with beady eyes and uneven legs.
I picked up the Applejack one, and I guess I unleashed some appul curse because I fucking died and woke up.

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>>42621318
Someone needs to now do an Applejack version of this.

>>42621009
What the hell is lewd about a bug crawling into your ear and biting it?

>>42621009
The constant feeling of being on "vacation" and wanting desperately to return to my home while also dealing with the stress of thinking I haven't packed everything.

>>42621338
it was a changeling

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>>42620356
Sheesh. What's her problem? This was all her idea and she didn't even eat anything.
>Half of the food packed in this basket is hers.
>Well, whatever.
>More sugar and mustard sandwiches for you.
>You take another bite of the sandwich and crunch down on something very hard.
>Hard enough to chip your teeth, a lot of teeth.
>It sounds like rocks hitting a car windshield when you open your mouth.
Ow! What the fuck!
>You open the sandwich, looking at the spread inside.
Diamonds and cucumbers...
>This is Rarity's sandwich.
>You ate her sandwich in front of her.
>No wonder she was so upset.
>You go and apologize.
>Rarity forgives you.
>Hooks you up with Colgate, so you can get your mouth fixed.
>And some gems.
>Combine the two and now you got a sick grillz up in your mouths.
>Rarity falls in love with your diamond teeth.
>She just thinks you're dazzling, never leaves your side now.
>On sunny days, when you smile, you'll always find her wearing sunglasses.

Rarity in glasses is hot af.
But you already knew that.

>>42621671
Well fuck you, changeling. I woke up freaking the fuck out after what was until that point your typical weird ass dream.

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glossary will be published tomorrow, very tired. please enjoy my autism
>/I made it, old man/.
>/Omer’s gonna make me their Lynx. Surgery’s two weeks out from now/.
>/Pay’s good. Real good. A few years there, and mom’ll be safe. Might even make enough for her to skip out to another colony/.
>/…/
>/…Don’t gimme that fuckin’ look/.
>/You're not comin’/.
>/Only reason you’re still around is ‘cause I/-

>“Anon?”
>The sudden chatter rips you from your wanton rumination, staggeringly clear; sharp, even.
>Returning from your deep-seated traipse into memory, your mind isn’t sure which of your bodies to return to first, but the AMS makes the decision on its own, however jarringly.
>Nestled in the NEXT’s head, your viewfinder beholds endless stretches of sloping ash and irradiated sands as you barrel over all of it at a steady pace of nearly eleven hundred kilometers per hour.
>Aside from the dust you’re kicking up, it’s a pristine little patch of nowhere.
>You check radar once, twice, three times - a blank slate for each.
>You’re alone in the greyout.
“Yeah?”
>A terse moment passes before your operator speaks again, the raspiness of her voice choked away by the cold static of your comms unit.
>“Your brain waves spiked,” she explains, monotone. “Just making sure you’re okay.”
“All good here.”
>“Mm.”
>Apart from the dull rumbling of the NEXT plowing onward, an uncomfortable silence all but strangles the two of you.
>It’s so unlike her.
“Distance to OBJ?”
>“Two minutes out. No errors with the Judith?”
“None. Paid good creds for this FCS, it /better/ not fuck up. The vendor said it was factory new.”
>Even so, you eye your readout like a hawk. Targeting systems failing in the middle of a sortie isn’t something you’re keen to navigate.
>You hear her typing away over the radio for a few moments before the audio fizzles into a far grainier quality.
>“…Alright, we’re on a closed channel,” she breathes, her sigh charged with apprehension. “Anon, this sortie’s a crock of shit.”
>The body you were born with, nestled deep within the core of the NEXT, furrows its brow.
“Can’t RTB now. The transponder’s been on since I left the garage.”
>“We can say the FCS didn’t work out. It’s a third party component, it happens all the time.”
“They’ll want the readouts when we get back.”
>“What about a health issue? You said you were feeling a bit light headed when you hooked up to the AMS earlier.”
“You know they won’t buy that, Hel.”
>She falls silent, and your lamentable guts roil with guilt.
>Unwilling to let the roar of the engines dominate the airwaves, you speak up on your own after another pregnant pause.
“…Listen, I’m not gonna pretend I don’t have the jitters over this whole thing, but the payout’s exactly what we need. Once we’re done, we’re making tracks /tonight/, alright?”

>>42622430
>Static, and the sound of a comms station idling some hundred or so miles behind you.
“Hel?”
>“…You better not get cold feet this time,” she nearly whispers, the young, headstrong recruit you’d met four years ago all but buried.
>It hurts what’s left of your heart.
“I promise, kid. Run me through the MO one more time, I wanna be thorough.”
>You know it by heart after agonizing over it for days, but you’d rather not let the poor girl worry herself to death - no matter how justified she is.
>A moment later, your immaculate view of the wasteland is dimmed as a rudimentary model of the facility’s layout flickers into existence, its neon grid pounding at the backs of your eyes.
>If only the combat cocktail you were dosed up on had eletriptan in it.
>“The intel division received reports yesterday that one of their legacy Kojima reactor plants, located in Grid 0256-B, was being actively scouted by a Normal of unknown affiliation equipped with multispectral cloaking systems and radar jamming suites. After the craft was disabled, the pilot refused to divulge any information about his employers or mission directive.”
>The model rotates to offer a top-down view of the base and its surrounding terrain. Sat at the bottom of a massive sand basin, a massive rock shelf jutting from the earth to its immediate rear envelops the sprawling subterranean sections of the facility, shielding it from direct attack.
>That said, the surface facilities may as well be a kill house. Tiny, totally exposed, boxed in by its own walls - so much so that base defenses would be woefully ineffective against any well-planned attack.
>You’re stumped as to why Omer thought to put a facility there in the first place, no matter how safe it may be in a region as remote as this.
>“They’re expecting an assault soon,” Hel continues. “Orbital scans confirm that a large ground force is mobilizing, currently twenty five hundred kilometers out. Two hostile NEXTs were spotted in the formation as well; as a precaution, they’ve bolstered the base’s defense systems and called for a company Lynx to be stationed on-site.”
>You grumble as the schematics disappear from view, the world regaining its light.
“They’re decommissioning the place in a few weeks, right? What do they care if it goes up in smoke?”
>“Even this far out, a blown reactor’s bad news,” she explains. “Radiation’ll shut down a couple important supply routes nearby, ones Omer doesn’t want to part with.”
>You grumble to yourself.
>They’ve been trying to get rid of you quietly for months now. Faulty equipment here, bad intel there, the works. Anything to keep your execution an unassuming affair; a sob story that all prying eyes would be satisfied with.
>Evidently, the depths of their polite depravity were still being hollowed out.
>One Lynx in a lightweight NEXT to stop all of that?
>Pompous fuckin’ snakes. Who do they think they’re fooling?
>…

>>42622432
>They’ll get what they want, then. Not exactly how they envisioned it, but they’ll get it.
>In your impatience, you disengage the safety on your dual rifles. Combat mode engages and the heads-up display comes alive, the horizon a portrait now framed by indicators and headings.
“I’ll get it done. Hel, the /moment/ I wrap shit up over here, get over to our secondary exfil down by the south wall. I’ll meet you there after I get paid.”
>“A-firm, el capitan,” she replies, a bit of her vigor returning. “Want me to grab some grub for you?”
“Yeah, but just get somethin’ from a back alley vendor. We don’t need anybody… spotting…”
>You trail off, thoughts of cheap rations and coffee sludge drowned out by the sight before you.
>More sand, more dust, more dunes; but there, an inordinate stretch in front of you, you notice a funnel of undulating black.
>It splinters the sky in two, imperceptible to unaugmented vision at this range.
>A smoke stack.
>“Oh, /shit/,” Hel exclaims. “That’s the facility!”
>Your overbooster engages before you can consciously recognize you’d commanded it.
>In a matter of seconds, you’re stopping hard at the edge of the basin, peering headlong into the center of the trough as you kick up the long-settled dust around you.
>The billowing stovepipe of smog is monstrous at this distance, encompassing the majority of the above-ground dome installation. Light bends and refracts wantonly around its very base, where bright flames try their damndest to lap at the sky above.
>“Reactor facility 0256-B, this is NEXT callsign Presage and its operator, Helene Allard,” Hel calls out over the base’s official channel. “If you’re receiving this message, respond immediately. I say again: if anyone’s alive to hear this, /respond immediately/.”
>While you both wait for something back, you scan the radar, but find nothing to suggest that whoever did this stuck around.
>“Not getting anything,” she says, flustered. “HQ completed those orbital scans this morning… Did we get bad intel?”
>You eye the precious few parts of the base that aren't covered in ash, watching for any sign of movement.
“Unlikely, given who we work for. Probe their network, gimme a status on those reactors.”
>Moments pass; the blaze rages on.
>“Fully operational,” she relays in disbelief. “I can’t hail HQ, either.”
>That little niggling feeling in the base of your gut skyrockets into full-volume alarm bells.
“Comms error?”
>“No, the line’s just… completely dead,” she stutters, her nerves getting the better of her.
>Not that you blame her, of course - if your real body weren’t immersed in inertia dampener gel, it’d be sweating bullets.
>“Anon, whatever’s going on, you need to get out of there. Screw HQ, this whole thing is tits up. We-“
>Unexpectedly, an emergency flare erupts from the plume, its crimson glow a knife through the tangible sense of dread.

>>42622433
>You trace its trajectory all the way back to the very center of the desolation, where the fire seems to be raging the hardest.
>Beyond the rolling inferno, not even /you/ can see.
>You glance at the radar again, but with each rhythmic sweep of the area, the analog canvas returns blank.
>…
“…Search and rescue’ll get ‘em,” you mutter, fully aware there will be no such operation. “I’m not chancin’ it.”
>Hel sighs in relief as you gently engage your frontside thrusters, sliding away from the edge and turning back in the direction of where you came from.
>“/Thank you/,” she nearly whispers. “I’ll disconnect and start packing up once you’re halfway home, just to be sa-”
>The target lock alert screams alive only a second before you’re shunted forward by several explosive impacts to the rear of your NEXT.
>Primal armor renders the blow painless, but you cry out in shock nonetheless.
>You spin back around, and to your dismay, your own targeting system whirrs to life as it combs the newly occupied basin.
>Wisps of soot and ash whip about from the backs of the three scorched NEXTs now barrelling up towards you.
>At the front of the pack, a lightweight blades-only craft shatters the sound barrier as it engages its overbooster, arm reared back for an upward swing.
>Flanking to your left, a mid-range with reverse joint legs takes off into the sky, its dual rifles trained on your position.
>The furthest away by a decent margin is a missile boat on tank treads, a fresh volley of ordinance now slung free from its shoulder-mounted and handheld launchers.
>In response, the AMS hookup floods your flesh with an extra dose of combat stimulants.
>Tastes like noise.
>Your thoughts narrow as a heartbeat - your own - begins to pound in your ears.
>Your field of view widens, environmental details sharpen.
>You don’t care where or how they hid.
>Who they are is inconsequential.
>They’ll sink beneath the sand all the same.
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2tyuG3Mjm0
>“Enemy lock!” Hel shouts into her headset. “Evade, evade!”
>You’ll do just that.
>A quickboost to the right sees the lightweight NEXT barely miss you as it rips past, its laser blade humming as it cuts through open air.
>You keep the momentum going as you shift into a backpedal, the overeager brawler still hot on your tail.
>The new FCS locks onto him in a matter of milliseconds at this range, and you open the taps with your assault rifles and back-mounted grenade launcher.
>His primal armor ripples and undulates under the strain of automatic fire, but holds firm.
>He weaves left just as the rocket barrage arrives. You dodge most of it with another quickboost, but a few stray rockets make contact despite your frenetic pace.
>All the while, the concerningly accurate airborne Lynx rains munitions on you with his own weapons, chipping away at you.
>Bastard must’ve tuned his NEXT for sustained flight.

>>42622434
>Another target lock alert breaks your concentration.
>From the corner of your eye, you spot another cluster of rockets heading your way.
>You need cover.
>Playing defense against the airborne Lynx with your shoulder-mounted scatter missiles, you make a break for the biggest dune nearby, which breaks the missile lock.
>The dogfighter grounds himself, no doubt to evade.
>The melee NEXT charges you again, but he peels off behind the dune when you pelt him with the remaining grenade launcher ammunition.
>Alone, if only for a moment or two.
>You purge the armament from your back and instantly become several tons lighter.
>You’ve still got the compact missile launcher, so defensive options are solid.
>“AP’s at two thirds left,” Hel anxiously informs you over comms. “That first hit took a chunk out of you, but the primal armor got most of it.”
>A haggard sigh fills the air; for a moment, you don’t even recognize it as your own voice.
“Who the fuck /are/ these guys?” you ask, heated as you turn to face the massive mound of sand. “Independents?”
>“They aren’t registered on Collared. I tried to check HQ’s Lynx database, too, but I can’t get in. But their combat maneuvers, their tactics, they…”
>She trails off in a stupor before she can finish her sentence, but you weren’t born yesterday.
>It was all straight out of the company playbook.
“Kill comms and get to secondary exfil.”
>“/What/? Anon-”
“Smuggler’s already got her credits, she’ll take you when you get there.”
>Your stillborne attempt at continuing your instruction is choked out by all three enemy NEXTs soaring over the dune, weapons pointed in your direction.
>Your newfound speed helps you evade fire more efficiently as you circle around the terrain in a desperate attempt to bait a one-on-one with the melee build.
>To your chagrin, the aerial ace quickboosts back over the hill, lighting you up the entire time.
>You sling a missile salvo his way to throw his aim off while the pest of the group bears down on you.
>Both rifles tear his primal armor almost completely away, but instead of evading this time, he overboosts straight at you for a downward swing.
>The ghastly mint glow of his armor is completely withered by the maneuver, but it puts him directly in front of you.
>You dodge left, but the blade just barely clips the upper section of your right leg unit, passing right through the rectification field and taking a solid chunk of primal armor with it.
>It leaves a nasty gash, and your overall AP dips a considerable amount as a result, but you quickly turn and shred him with more rifle fire.
>His generator tries to re-form his armor by sloughing out Kojima particles, but it isn’t fast enough.
>You punch enough holes into the core that dampener fluid from the cockpit begins to spill out from them, some of it stained red.
>The NEXT skids and falls face-first into the sand, crumpling under the force of its own momentum.

>>42622441
>Must’ve been eager to prove himself.
>…His friends aren’t gonna go as easily.
>“AP just dropped below half,” Hel exclaims. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not leaving you!”
“You’re a loose end!” you shout as the two remaining NEXTs appear from behind the dune and reacquire you. “Don’t even pack, just /run/, god damn it! Use the old tunnels!”
>More missiles, more machine gun fire. You chain boost to evade while trading blows with the reverse joint NEXT, but he’s somehow just as agile as you.
>Your AP keeps dropping.
>“But what about-”
>The distant shattering of a window interrupts her.
“I’ll be fine! /GO/!”
>“…Damn it, Anon,” she mutters brokenheartedly as you hear her rip the headset off and run.
>The comms link falls to pure static, and a moment later, goes completely silent.
>You know she doesn’t believe you. Naivete was never something you could attribute to her.
>That’s the least of your worries, though, as the corner of your hud flashes red after another close scrape with a missile salvo.
>“AP at forty-two percent,” your onboard AI chimes in.
>You’ve got plenty of ammo to throw around, but not enough time to see the war of attrition all the way through.
>The strain on Presage’s hull is starting to register on your brain, like a barbell steadily having weight added as you hold it. Before long, you’ll break under the pressure.
>If you run, they’ll just gun you down with your tail between your legs.
>You can throw yourself at them in an all-out assault, but that wouldn’t do any good beyond getting you killed even faster.
>And sure, you can keep hugging the dune, but that reverse-jointed cunt’ll just keep you in check by hovering just out of range.
>Everything you come up with, they have an answer for.
>Your evasion turns almost absent-minded as your breath hitches in your throat, veins frosted over.
>There’s no way out. You’re gonna die here, swallowed by the gray sands, an obscured footnote in OMER’s storied expanse of cruelty.
>You aren’t even afforded the comfort of knowing Hel is safe.
>The worst case scenario, like a broken record, plays out ad nauseum in your head.
>Her body, as still as the unmarked crypt it’s bound for.
>Blood running, filling the cracks in cheap linoleum tiles.
>Faceless aggressors spouting codified legal nonsense as they stand over her, as if she can still hear them.
>All of this for /nothing/.
>Your icy blood boils at the very thought. You begin to wonder if an all-out assault might be in the cards after all, but as the reality of the inevitable sets in, another path presents itself to you.
>One that, in better circumstances, you’d slap yourself for even considering.
>If you can’t bury them in sand, you’ll bury them in glass.
>Turning on a dime, you set off for the reactor facility, your opponents following close behind.

>>42622446
>You’re far more vulnerable to missiles, being chased in the open like this, but that advantage won’t last.
>As you skate down the side of the basin, your hud flashes once more.
>“AP at thirty-four percent.”
>You reach the front gates and plow headfirst into the flames. Even sheltered away beneath untold layers of steel and shielding, your body begins to sweat.
>Through the miasma, you spot the silo doors that lead to the facility’s lower levels.
>They’re closed, but that won’t stop you. A few missiles to the least structurally sound segments, and they’re blown to bits under the impact, revealing a massive industrial elevator shaft.
>No wonder they planned on closing the place down.
>As you plummet into the lowest guts of the facility, your comms link sputters to life once more; an unknown contact is hailing you.
>You dismiss it before it can ring twice - it’s way too late for that.
>The elevator itself buckles under your feet as you hit the bottom and immediately boost forward.
>Old turrets and other lethargic defense systems kick on as you charge down spacious corridors, all struck down before they can even begin to process you as a target.
>The lack of base personnel only further confirms the self-serving sabotage at play.
>Somewhere behind, you hear your pursuers crash down into the metal labyrinth as well, but it brings forth no further sense of urgency. At this pace, you’ll have /just/ enough time.
>As you blow through one last set of doors, the roomy halls culminate into the beating heart of the facility.
>Sat in the middle of a colossal open space are the two Kojima reactors you were assigned to protect, pulsating to such a degree within their solid steel shells that even Presage seems to vibrate in tandem.
>Free-floating particles lilt through the air, the entire room painted in their deathly luminescence.
>The radiation is so strong that your primal armor’s strength starts falling rapidly, your AP following suit.
>“AP at thirty percent. Consider immediate combat withdrawal.”
>The moment you cross into the room, you train your weapons on the reactor core closest to you and fire away. All the while, you begin prepping your generator for an assault armor burst, which should add enough particles to the reaction to bring it to criticality.
>Free of any complications, such as up-to-code rectification field defenses, your bullets sink effortlessly into the target, shredding the integrity of the carapace.
>Just as it peels away to reveal the blinding reaction underneath, your assailants burst into the room, boosting at wild angles to avoid catching the cores in the crossfire.
>It’s all too little, too late, though. The energy buildup in your generator reaches its crescendo, and your primal armor explodes outwards in one last act of defiant violence.
>Time slows to a near-crawl as you scream your lungs out, taken completely by fear and rage.

>>42622451
>Arcs of energy dance from Presage to whatever they deem worthy of their presence, a mass of them converging on the reactor.
>The two assassins hang suspended in the air, eerily still. You curse them with all of the remaining resentment in your heart, leaving you with nothing left but regret.
>Regret for your choices, for your friends, for your parents…
>For Hel.
>Dead or not, you’re halfway through mourning her when the world erupts into pure white, and nearly all thought ceases.
>Moments from giving in completely, though, something strange happens.
>Soundless and searing, the pale, unending death begins to pull apart into fractals of brilliant pastel color, like the threads of a shirt unraveling as it’s ripped open.
>A cold unlike you’ve ever felt blankets you in both flesh and metal.
>Ever so faintly, you hear a clicking noise somewhere behind you, and it all fades to black.

…

>You jolt awake.
>…
>…Awake?
>No, that’s not right, you just-
>Biblical pain threatens to split your skull open from the inside out, and the vibration from your resulting moans make it far worse.
>You fall silent as you cradle your head in your hands - your /real/ hands, to your surprise.
>Did your AMS jack decouple from your occipital socket during all of that…?
>Blind feeling with your nearly-numb digits confirms as such, the barely noticeable divot in your skull remarkably empty.
>That could be an issue.
>Fearful of more pain, your eyes slowly glide open, and the claustrophobic cockpit of your NEXT greets you bathed in red emergency lights.
>The stasis tank surrounding your pilot’s chair hasn’t drained yet, so you hit the manual override underneath the seat and sit back as the dampener fluid drains loudly into the hidden reservoir beneath you.
>Time for your least favorite part.
>You hug your stomach tightly and lean over the railing as you flex your abs and begin to wretch.
>The protestations of your vocal chords are cut short by the unceasing flow of dampener fluid, expelled first from your lungs and then from your stomach with each heave.
>When you’re finally cleared enough to breathe, you gasp for air, each breath tainted by the pungent stench of your innards.
>The glass tube recedes into the alloy panels above, and you fall back into your chair as you shakily fetch your telemetry tablet from its smoothed-over slot in the wall.
>You connect it to the power socket in your chair, thankful that the backup generator kicked in somehow. The readout is nothing but the basics, but that’s about all you can handle at the moment.
>Against all odds, all limbs of the NEXT are still present and accounted for. The exact damage to each unit is unknown, sure, but at the very least, they’re still there.
>The main generator is offline and took heavy damage to its circuitry, no doubt thanks to the stunt you pulled with the assault burst.

>>42622456
>The onboard AI is offline, but the emergency power is just enough to support comms and log entries through the tablet.
>Your most pressing question, however, isn’t addressed.
>How are you even /alive/?
>You’d think you were done and dusted, but the throbbing in your head, the frigid air turning your skin prickly, the foul smell… it’s all far too real to wave off.
>Your fingers, still replete with paresthesia and slow to respond to your commands, tab over to the radio display.
>Hel’s compromised, so you’ll have to wait for /her/ to call /you/.
>...If she's still alive.
>Before you can become bogged down by indecision, you start to work your way down the relatively small list, starting with your garage.
“NEXT callsign Presage to Navel Mechworks, requesting emergency rescue in grid 0256-B. Will provide details and payment upon acceptance of assignment. How copy?”
>Static.
>Line Ark should have a listening station nearby…
“NEXT callsign Presage to Line Ark HQ, requesting emergency rescue in grid 0256-B. My craft is disabled and I'm in immediate danger of Kojima radiation poisoning. How copy?”
>More static.
>Okay… Collared, then?
>Your would-be assassins weren’t registered with them, so it should be safe.
“NEXT callsign Presage to Collared, requesting emergency rescue in grid 0256-B. Will provide considerable payment upon acceptance of assignment, provided the responding Lynx acts with discretion. How copy?”
>Dead air.
>Collared can be reached damn near anywhere - the Kojima radiation outside must be interfering with your comms capabilities.
>Even so, you make one final hail mary, no matter how queasy it renders you.
“This is NEXT callsign Presage in the blind, requesting rescue. Can /anyone/ hear me?”
>…Nothing.
>You’re dead in the water, entombed by the metal sarcophagus surrounding you.
>Stricken, you swipe over to the pilot log tab and begin a brief recording.
“This is NEXT callsign Presage, Lynx-”
>You cut yourself short.
>What use are titles now?
“This is Anonymous T. Rasa, entry dated second of April… I’m gonna die.”
>You pause for a moment to collect yourself.
>“The blast didn’t kill me, but I almost wish it did. I’ve got no food or water, and if dehydration doesn’t take me first, the radiation levels outside /will/ once they seep into the cockpit. I don’t really wanna find out what severe dehydration feels like, so… yeah. Hell of a way to go, after getting so close to the end.”
>You inadvertently shiver as another wave of pain wracks your head.
“To the one that finds this, you owe me a debt now: bring Omer Science Technology down, no matter what it takes. I don’t have a blueprint on how to do it, but if we wanna live another century, it needs to happen. And if the person who finds this happens to be from Omer, /fuck you/. I wish I could’ve taken all you sacks o’ shit with me. And Hel, if it’s, uh, if it’s you that found this, I, uh…”

>>42622459
>You pause again, throat tightening.
“…I’m sorry, kid. Glad you made it. I wish I could’ve seen you grow up, but, uh… you know me.”
>Your finger taps the stop button before you get too choked up.
>A few shallow sighs later, you slide the tablet back into its alcove and sit up on your elbows as best as you can.
>It’s not great, but it’s all the pain, nausea, and hampered vision will allow. Judging from what gravity feels like, Presage must be supine.
>You right yourself into a crouched position and start to feel at the crevices of the overhead entry hatch, fighting off lightheadedness the entire time.
>You refuse to waste away.
>The ring finger on your left hand slides over a slight imperfection in the metalwork - /there/.
>Deep breaths, Anon. Face this with some dignity.
>An eternity later, you shove the button as far down as it’ll go, and the hatch unseals.
>The cockpit decompresses, and a faint beam of light cuts through the darkness.
>With all your might, you shove it open and stand to your full height, shielding your eyes from the glacial breeze that buffets your face.
>You steady yourself against the door as your vision adjusts, and though the dull throbbing urges you to return to the cramped gloom you came from, you resist.
>Eventually, your eyes find equilibrium, and you behold a generous snowfall, the flakes of which now dust your taut skin.
>You’ve seen snow before, of course; it’s no cause for alarm.
>But the green substance below, burgeoning through in occasional patches that flutter with the blowing of the wind…
>What /is/ that?
>…Well, you’re headed for the grave anyway.
>You shuffle onto the hull to get a closer look, but slip and tumble sideways off of your NEXT and into the ground.
>Through the agony, you reach out and touch the strange material.
>Whatever it is, it’s not soft, but it… /tickles/?
>You palm it only to come away with one of its kind stuck damply to your hand.
>Rectangular, verdant, pleasantly scented…
>…You’ve read about this before. Grass, was it?
>That can’t be right, though. Grass hasn’t grown in almost six centuries. Not on Earth, anyhow.
>But there, dotting the horizon… What the hell are those?
>Aren’t those /trees/? They’re shrouded in snow, sure, but you remember learning about all of that stuff from your aunt when you were young.
>You can’t feel the radiation in the air, either; not even a hint of iron on your tongue.
>Your breath mists over as you retreat into yourself for warmth and cast your gaze all around, flanked by frosted foliage on all sides. A snow-capped mountain in the distance to the rear of you looms over all.
>Even if only for curiosity’s sake, your will to stay alive skyrockets.
>Clumsy and discombobulated, you stumble away from your NEXT, casting only a sparing glance in its direction.
>It’s beat to hell, but you’ll come back and get a more comprehensive look later - right now, you need to find the nearest colony.

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>>42622465
>What appears to be a road lies just shy of the trees, so with heavy footfalls, you head over to check it out.
>Thankfully, there’s a signpost at the nearest crossroads. In your haste to figure out where you are, you barely even register that it’s made out of wood.
[NORTH - CRYSTAL EMPIRE, 23 MILES]
[SOUTH - GALLOPING GORGE, 67 MILES]
[WEST - LUNA BAY, 142 MILES]
>You’ve never heard of any of those places. You’re young, sure, but you’ve been around the block a few times as a Lynx.
>Regardless, you opt for the one that sounds most like an established colony.
>Bit of an odd name, but at this point, you aren’t picky.
>Following the sign, you trudge along the roadside until you feel something start to drip from your nose.
>Thinking it’s merely snot, you go to wipe it, only to have your trembling hand come away with a swatch of deep crimson.
>You fall to your hands and knees in a sudden fit of vertigo, paresthesia dulling the normally painful impact.
>The pitter-patter of bloody droplets meeting driven snow makes you sick to your stomach.
>Seems the sudden disconnection from the AMS may have left you worse off than you had initially thought.
>You can’t do anything but roll over onto your back as a wall of gloam robs you of sight.
>A man's voice in the distance nearly brings you back, but the tendrils of a sinister rest drag you away beforehand.

the pony will be in full force next chapter i promise. goodnight everyone
https://ponepaste.org/11415

>>42622470
you cooked, chief. Exquisite. While I believe this might turn out to be the most emotionally-charged chapter of the story, I'm also kinda hyped for the NEXT. Have a good week

>>42622470
Finally some fucking food

>>42622470
shit

>>42622470
good shit. excellent shit, even. you’ve already gone and gotten me attached to the characters in a single chapter.

>>42623535
Sauce: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/550169/and-what-do-i-do-with-this-bug-looking-thing

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>>42623535