Buildings, buildings, and more buildings.

Well, at least it’s a step up from the infinite void.

“There must be somepony out here who can tell me where I am...”

Oh!

As luck would have it, among the tall and menacing buildings, an equally tall and menacing figure appears in the corner of the little pony’s vision— and better than any of the other lanky figures she’s seen bumbling about, this one has the air of someone who knows things. She should know— she has a certain knack for detecting the more important pieces in a game. Without any reserve, she immediately struts up to the figure, tapping his ankle with a tiny, pink hoof.

      “If I may suggest an idea, Ma’am,” He knew as soon as the sentence left his mouth that his idea wasn’t going to be enough to solve the energy crisis currently at-hand, but at this point any idea was worth suggesting, “Do yer think holdin’ a combined concert wit’ all the NSR artists might optimize our energy output?” He stroked his beard. “Perhaps, if we not only did a concert, but found a way ta make a melody o’ sorts that connects all o’ our styles together, it might boost our numbers, even if it’s temporary.”

" - – Gghhhk...”

A white-hot pain burns through both bone and steel as Neon J rolls off the box. Old scars - the ones he got to keep - feel fresh again. His turtleneck strangles him. He gasps for air, but vestigial lungs provide no relief. The radar flickers, and, for a second, he can’t see her standing at her desk.

Unbelievable. Only days ago was he a mighty general; the heroic Charter of a beautiful district. He’d troops to command, fleets to guide, and workshops to craft in. Now here he lays: propped up against a crate, alongside merchandise that’d been rendered worthless in a matter of hours. He’s wounded. Humiliated. 

Most would’ve just given up. Any sane person would - no one would’ve blamed him if he did.

But him? He’d never dare entertain such thoughts.

For this is what it means to be a warrior. To be knocked so low; to know such agonizing defeat, and to keep fighting anyway. 

So though the pain threatens to tear him apart... -

... - He still salutes her. 

“Affirmative! BEGIN: 🎶 DAMAGE REPORT ~ ! 🎶 ” he warbles through a glitching auto-tune, “Captain! As of our most recent reconnaissance, we’ve concluded that the Metro Division District has been left mostly intact! Damage to civilian areas is minimum, ma’am! 

“The Baraca Mansion has been thoroughly vandalized, ma’am! We believe the enemy may have put something there, something big, but it requires more in-depth investigation, ma’am! 

“The NSR 1010 Battleship, as well as the J-1 Manufacturing Mobile Factory have both been destroyed in their entirety, ma’am! We’re currently working on replacements for both! 

“Finally, as for 1010, I personally vow that my troops will be whipped back into proper fighting shape well before the enemy strikes again! 

End Report! For 🎶 N - S - R~!! 🎶 ”

...

He doesn’t move.

...He can’t. 

   “AAAAAHHH~!! YOU WERE KUL FYRA ALL ALONG~??” Sayu squeals as she floats in circles around Tatiana, excited by this news, as though she’d been there in person to hear it herself, and not... a hologram piloted by teens. She stops after a while though, floating right in front of NSR’s CEO, grinning brightly.

          ❝ Ohh, ohh!! Miss Tatiana!! Lookie at what I found ehek!!~ ❞ The bubbly pink mermaid swam over to her, a small ukulele clasped in her hands. Sayu wore a bright grin on her face as she held out the small instrument delightedly to Tatiana, hardly able to contain her excitement.

@edmpress​ wants a starter!

“Yeah, that’s me!” The robot replied, tilting his hat up. He propped his back to one of the room’s neon-lit support columns, leaning on it as he stood. Beyond them, the speakers bumped a low, ambient beat behind the chatter of club-goers. 

“Oh man, they were talking about me? Er, sorry, ma’am. I-I mean, it’s not much, but it’s mine--” he shrugged, tilting away as if casting his gaze aside. Certainly, the musician looked at home in his club--the neon light, the energy of the music all echoed his own aesthetic--but he couldn’t keep from shying away in front of someone so renowned.