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Long Way Home · FiM Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
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A Blackout in Ponyville
[Author's Note: If you've not read Pinkie's Micro Series comic, you won't get this story.]

It wasn't like Blackout enjoyed going to Equestria. The denizens of this particular organic world were fond of emitting high-frequency sounds that grated against his audio ports, and always did so when in his presence. Not to mention, they were extremely easy to smash, as he had found out the first time he came here. Cleaning that had been unpleasant. Plus their buildings seemed to be made of perilously-stacked sheets of paper, so he had to dampen his seismic energy dischargers while walking. And they didn't have helicopters here, or any machines at all, so his alt mode did nothing to hide his identity.

So it was that he, a fifteen-story-tall grey robot covered in cannons, blades and turbines, found himself tromping as quietly as he possibly could down the streets of Ponyville, calling a single name over the screaming of the pony crowds below.

"Pinkie!"

He had a good reason for enduring this ridiculousness. His most recent assault had pitched him against more Omega Sentinels than he had anticipated. And while he could stomp them into slag with his bare servos, fighting them more than one-on-one was a risky business. He had at least been able to disable one before beating an ignominious retreat, his honor smarting, but he had also taken a fairly major hit by the end of the battle. Some of his cannons were considerably less than functional for it.

Luckily, he knew of the one place in the universe where good cannons could be found. It was insidious, really, the most unlikely planet for power weapons of destruction to be found. Yet find them he would, if only that blasted pastel organic would show herself.

"Pinkie Pie!"

"Hiya!"

Ah, there she was, tiny, squishable, and insufferably pink. And he, the bot by whose might alone the Decepticon Brute Squad existed, knelt and extended a servo to her with unparalleled delicateness.

"Blacky, it's good to see you!" she squeaked, bumping the end of his digit with her own. Then she cocked her head to the side and said, "You don't look so good."

"I have endured worse," he rumbled. "I require replacement weapons."

"Boy are you in luck then!" Pinkie said, hopping in place. "They just released the Z&R 5002! I got one already and let me tell you, it is tops! I can shoot pies halfway to Canterlot from here!"

"I am pleased to hear that."

Blackout had learned long ago that idle pleasantries pacified the organics of this planet. It was just one of many concessions he had to make, pushing back against his Decepticon programming, and the rewards were always well worth it. Megatron would never have understood.

"I will need three of them."

"If you don't mind paying a teensy-weensy bit extra, I can get ya four at a discount!"

"Hmm. If these cannons are as superb as you suggest, perhaps that would be equable. Will payment be handled the usual way?"

"I'll bill ya." She winked and moved off. "Seeya later, Blacky! Enjoy yourself!"

"Certainly."

With a sigh, he turned back the way he had come. His T-cog activated, condensing his bulk into the streamlined form of his alt mode. His rotors whirred and he lifted off, scanning the ground below him. To the north was a large patch of green sward with a large stylized H painted on it. A sign beside the clearing read "Free helicopter rides!"

He sighed once more. The peace here was a thing unsurpassed. It was unassailable, a far cry from fighting Autobots in the asteroid mines of the outer reaches. And somewhere, deep inside his armor plating and wartime programming, he needed these respites. At least Megatron had never asked where he went off to.
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