Monkey Business Ch. 6 -Party Animals

>"Run away! Run away! Runawayrunawayrunaway!"
>You are currently running away.
"Climb you stupid poofter!"
>"How will that help?"
IT WILL NOT, YOU WILL ONLY DIE TIRED.
>"They're right!"  There was a a massive flood of army ants tailing after you and Dumptruck, who was swinging madly through the trees.  You toss a glance over your shoulder and see nothing but crawling blackness with sharp little jaws.
"Do you want to die at all?"
RESISTANCE IS WITHOUT PURPOSE.
FUTILE.
OH RIGHT SORRY.  RESISTANCE EQUITABLE TO FUTILITY.
WHY DO WE EVEN BOTHER.
STOP ARGUING WITH THE MANY.
>"The fuck is wrong with these ants?"  The ants were an near-endless field of black that carpeted every inch of junlge they covered, and they've been -arguing- the whole time they've been chasing you.  Dumptruck scratched his chin as he flipped through the leaves.
"Well ya see, there was two colonies that got into a fight a long time ago and they sorta got mishmashed all together into a bigger one."
CONSENSUS HAS BEEN A LITTLE DIFFICULT SINCE THEN, YES.
>"You're telling me we're running from an ant colony with mutlitple personality disorder?" You pant as you dive over a bush.
WE ARE VERY SENSITIVE ABOUT OUR ISSUES, WE PREFER NOT TO SPEAK OF IT
WE NEVER WANT TO DISCUSS ANYTHING WITH ANYONE ELSE THAT IS WHY NOTHING GETS RESOLVED.
>It didn't so much speak with a voice, but instead with the sound of millions and millions of clicking jaws, legs, and pattering antennaes that somehow managed to form words.  The clattering cloud of ants begins to slow to a complete stop
WE ARE OF ONE MIND THAT SHOULD NOT NEED ANYTHING RESOLVED IN THE FIRST PLACE. BESIDES, IT IS NOBODIES BUSINESS BUT OUR OWN
DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD FASHIONED WE SOUND WHEN WE SAY THAT?
>"What the hell are you even talking about?"
IGNORE US.
>You hate this jungle.
WE SWEAR.  ONE OF THESE DAYS WE ARE GOING TO SPLIT OFF LIKE A BUNCH OF INDIVIDUALISTS, THEN WE WILL SEE WHO IS OLD FASHIONED.
>You take a moment to fall to the ground and catch your breath.  The army ants began to pile onto themselves like a ball heavily laced with an identity crisis.  You know that tone of voice, however all-encompasing. They'll be arguing for a good while.
>Dumptruck loops down from a vine and taps on your shoulder.
"I think this is a good time to scram before they come to a mutual understanding."
>"In a second, this is kinda funny."  The sea of ants form a giant column in the air.
YOU FIND THE DISRUPTION OF THE GRAND STREAM OF TOTALITY AMUSING?
>"A little."  You heard Dumptruck slap his forehead.
"How retarded are ya?"
WE SHALL TEAR THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES AND THEN RIP THE BONES.   CHILDREN SHALL FEED UPON YOUR DISPARAGING CORPSE AND WE SHALL GROW LARGER
DO NOT TRY AND CHANGE THE SUBJECT HE IS RIGHT.  CAN WE IMAGINE HOW RIDICULOUS WE MUST LOOK TO THE REST OF THE JUNGLE?
WE ARE FEARED BY THE REST OF THE JUNGLE!
>"Is there anything these guys can agree on?"  The column leans towards you in acknowledgement.
SOMETIMES WE WONDER
>You inhale sharply before the towering mass.  "Oh come on, there has to be something.  Fuck, there's a goddamned bazillion of you guys.  You can't hold yourself together like that if there isn't something you all share in common."
WE HUNGER
>You laugh nervously. "Well there's that, yeah.  Family that feeds together stays together, but you need more than just to, ah, share a dinner table, right?"
...
>Oh God, keep them confused, distract them.  "Maybe you just need to go back to square one?  Go on vacation or something.  Somewhere far.  Away.  From me.  Do some teamwork exorcises and just spend a day or two talking things out, you know?"
>Dumptruck has started to climb back up the vine.  You can see him shaking his head and muttering something about a head-start.  "Get back to basics and everything.  Find out what's really important to you.  All of you."
>The pillar of ants swayed uncertainly.
THE SMELLY MAMMAL MAKES MORE SENSE THEN WHAT SHOULD BE POSSIBLE FROM A THING OF SINGLE CONCIOUSNESS.
>You only took a small amount of offense from that.
A CHANGE OF SCENERY MAY BE BENEFICIAL TO THE MANY.  YES.  YES.  THAT SOUNDS NICE.
CAN WE GO TO THE MOUNTAINS.
WE WILL DELIBERATE.
>"Okay, glad to know you guys are going to work on that."  You stand up to walk away as innocently as possible with the knowledge of a job well done.
YOU FAIL TO UNDERSTAND, THING OF ONE BODY, WE STILL HUNGER.
 >"Huh?"
THAT NEVER NEEDED DELIBERATION.
>"Oh."
IN CONSIDERATION OF YOUR SERVICE TO US WE WILL COUNT TO TEN BEFORE PROCEEDING TO CHASE YOU DOWN AND CONSUME YOUR FLESH FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE MANY.
>"Fan-freaking-tastic."
ONE
"I told ya kid."
TWO
>"But my legs are still sore!"
THREE
"They're gonna be more sore after ten zillion ants start gnawing through 'em."
THE CAPUCHIN IS RIGHT.  CONSUMPTION BY THE MANY IS NOT A PLEASANT THING, HOWEVER MUCH OF A PRIVELEGE IT IS
UM.  WHAT NUMBER WERE WE ON?
>"One?"
OKAY
WAIT NO WE WEREN'T
WE WERE ON FOUR OR WAS IT THREE?  OR MAYBE IT WAS TWO.  TWO.  NO.  TWO.
THREE.  YES.
WHERE DID HE GO?
>Some time later after intense cardio you curse into a tree.  You think the ants started to bicker again, or began to chase after something a little slower.
>"I am never, ever, ever going to kick another antpile again."
>Oh, what are you talking about.  You're going to make it your new mission in life to kick and burn down every ant colony you can find, and you're gonna gloat.
"I could've gone my whole day without that crap happening."
>He hung upside down on a low-hanging branch.
"Ants are funny little asshats.  Ya get one or two of 'em, no problem.  Squish 'em under your thumb issue solved, who gives a damn.  But then you keep pilin' them on and they start to get all intellectual-like.  And opinionated."
>He picked a perfectly normal ant that was crawling along bark.
"And bitey."
>He flicked it away.
"More issues than a cross-dressin' rhino."
>"Are there any other bugs with 'issues'?"
"No, thank cripes.  That crawling schizo whack-job is the only one in the jungle like that."
>"I never knew ants could have deep-seated psychological trauma."  You didn't even know ants had any psychology to begin with.
"You gots no idea.  An' another thing."
>"Hm?"
"Stop tryin' ta conversate with things higher on da food chain then you.  The army ants are a bent tree in serious need of some trimmin'.   Real easy to sidetrack.  But other things, not so much."
>"I don't know if I've told you this," You stand up and thump your chest proudly,  "but back where I come from, I'm top-tier on the food chain."
>He rights himself up on the branch and starts to pick through his fur, pulling out errant leaves and twigs that got caught during your mad dash for survival.
"Musta been a pretty short chain then."
>"So is it still..."lunch time?"  Should we go back up into the canopy?"
>Hiding in the canopy has been a routine thing for you the past few days.  Sometime around mid-day every flying, crawling, and walking thing in the jungle would start squawking non-stop for ten minutes.  Today an anteater stood on his hindlegs and yelled "DING DING MOTHERFUCKERS, COME AND GET IT!"  That's when you and Dumptruck started climbing up and curl on a branch and stay really mostly quiet.
>That's when you heard...growling and gnawing from below.
>The whole session normally lasted about an hour or two.
>You glibbed a little bit today.  The tree-limb you were sitting on wasn't the biggest thing in the rainforest.
>And then a three-toed sloth thought your leg was a branch.
>And you always thought three-toed sloths were really creepy looking, so you may have panicked some and fell right out of the tree.
>And into the path of oncoming ants.
>Dumptruck took a moment to listen to the forest.  The normal background noise of cawing birds and rustling scurrying of small unseen mammals resumed as normal.  He shook his head.
"Nah.  If the ants are marching one-by-their-merry-one then the other preds tend to stay outta dere way."
>"Good to know."  He leaped off the branch and onto your shoulder.
"I really hope you're paying attention to all dis."
>You were.  Survival was constantly at the forefront of your mind.
>Except when it dissappeared for a few seconds to play psychologists to a bunch of bugs.
>Or wading out into a river to and letting a tiger sneak up on you.
>Or...
>Survival was ALMOST constantly at the forefront of your mind.
>You should probably be more careful.  After all, you didn't want Rainbow Dash coming to your rescue only to find a pile of bones and a capuching telling her that "He was a right dumbass and this is what he deserved."
>Hmm...
>You were stressed.  Sore.  Dirty.  Hot.  Sorrounded by things that thought you were on the gross, sticky bottom of the evolutionary ladder.
>Fuck it.  Fuck all things.
>"Dumptruck, have I met my stupid quota for the day?"
"Not by a long-shot."
>"Alright, because I have an idea."  He raised his hands and praised the sun.
"What a fuckin' miracle!  He has an idea boys an' girls.  Someone hand him a mirror and see if recognizes his own reflection."
>"Oh no, you're gonna like this one."  The expression on his fuzzy face read 'surprise me, please, by all means.'
>You open up your sack of priceless survival tools.
>You pull out the bottle of Applejack Daniels and shake it vigorously.  Its golden contents, far more valuable than gold, shone brilliantly in the dense shadows of the jungle floor.  Dumptruck smacked his lips, the idea of fighting temptation never even crossed his mind.
"I gotta say, worse crap's fallen out of your head before."
>"Tonight."  Dumptruck nodded, hypnotised by the bottle's mind-altering promises.
>"We're gonna get fucked up."  He hooted with joy.
 >You asked him where would be the best place to relax with the enourmous jug of whiskey.  You and him opened up your map and poured over all nearby locations.  As it turned out there was a small collection of warm springs that was regarded as a no-eat zone by the jungle at large.
>And just to be safe, you had some extra stone and dry tinder in your pack to build a fire once you arrived.  Fire was an invaluable tool.  It kept the scarier things away at night, and helped you sleep better.
>It would take some walking to get there, but all you've done since arriving in the preserve was walking.
>"Why don't you ever tell me about these cool things, warm springs and such where predators don't try and eat you?"
"Ya don't ask.  You have a record of gettin' us kicked out.  Besides, everybody has to take turns.  Others might just pick ya up outta the pool and toss you out if you try an' hog it.  I remember this one time, a wobbly fat-ass of a tapir was sittin' in dere for three days, so a coupla-"
>"Okay, okay.  I don't want to know about what a couple of sociopaths did to a lazy tapir."
"He didn't get eaten if that's what got yer tampon all knotted up.  Well, a part of him got eaten."
>How the hell did he know what a tampon is?
>No.  You don't want to know that either.
"They ate his tail, if you was wonderin'."
>"I bet he was grateful."  Dumptruck nodded.  He probably viewed it as a remarkable act of mercy.  Or more likely as some kind of hilarious prank.  In fact it probably was.  The humor around often involved the consumption of others.
>You hear Dumptruck sniffing on your shoulder.  He snickers in a way that makes you picture a man wearing ratty suit with a cheap cigarette in hand.
>Probably still thinking about the tapir.
"Hey, Anon."
>"Hmm?"
"Turn around and say hi to Tango."
>You pause and spin around. "What the hell is Tan-GOH GOD WHAT THE FUCK?!?"
"Hey guyth."
>You fall to the ground and kick up leaves and twigs as you try to run away on your hands.
>A python is hanging down from the tree tops. His square, pointed head sways to and fro.  His forked tongue slips in and out of the tiny hole in his mouth.  The brown and drab green markings on his scaly hide makes it hard to differentiate him from the speckled light of the forest's sorroudnings.
"'Sup Tango."
>Dumptruck has jumped onto your chest.  Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour.  Sure, ants were scary, but snakes were fucking horrendous.  And he just kept stretching up and up.  You saw where his body curled around the branches above, but you just saw no end to him.
>There was a small bulge along the lenght of the snake.  You pointed to it.
"What's that?" His stomach grumbles.
"Mphhmm Phhh Ehhh Rmmph."
"Indigestion," says Tango embarassedly.
>Dumptruck laughs.  He looks up at the snake's stomach and yells.
"BETTER YOU DEN ME, EH BUD?"
>The bulge 'mmphs' in agreement.
>Oh God...
>This place makes no sense.
"How's it been, Tango?"
"Thame ol' thame ol'.
>He had a voice like sandpaper.  The snake lowers itself onto the grass where he becomes even harder to make out against the foliage.  It circles around you and tastes the air.  You hope he doesn't like what he finds.
"He mutht be the hyoomen that everyone ith going on about."
>He raises up into the air and arcs over your head and stares into your eyes.  Was he going to try and hypnotize you or something?  Was that movie scientifically accurate?  You can't remember.
"Nithe to meet you."
>"Uh.  Hi, Tango's your name?  I'm Anon.  I'm the human."
>You guess Nahbi wasn't lying.  You are popular.  As long as your newfound celebritism could be diverted into not-getting eaten you wouldn't complain.
"Tho I've heard.  Tho hath everybody heard.  Are the two of you heading towards the springth?"
"Y'know it.  Me an' Tim knicked a bottle of Open Sky's good stuff and we're gonna enjoy a night of relaxation in the most civilized of fuckin' manners."
>The anaconda's jaw opens wide, really very disconcertingly wide.  The teeth in his mouth were arranged in -rows-.
"Soundth like fun.  I haven't been to the springth in ages.  Mind if I tag along?"
>Dumptruck shrugs.  Your brain becomes boggled.
"Why not?  Did ya see the size of the bottle here?"
>You grab him by the arm.  He looks at you like you're carrying the plague.
>"Do we really want an intoxicated snake hanging around us?"
"The fuck is you talkin' about?  Tango is aces when he ain't hungry.  See the dumb bastid in there?"
>He points to the dumb bastid in there.
"'Just think of it as our life insurance.  An if Tango is hanging around, there's gonna be less preds inclined to get all stalky on us.  I ain't stupid like you, so ighten up, ya wip-wop."
>"Wip-wo...what WORDS are you using?"  He knocks your hand away and brushes off the part of his arm that you touched.
"Relax, guy.  You like hangin' out wif da ants that plan to truss you up, I'll hang out with the big damn snake that just wants to get fucked up.  Besides, is YOU gonna tell him no?
>You stare at the anaconda. "Uh..."
"I'm psychic, I swear. Hey, as long as you ain't on dere menu, yeah?"
>Your evening was shaping up to consist of hanging out with  monkey that sounds like he'd fit right into a production of Grease and an anaconda with a lisp.
>You fucking hate this jungle.
>Whatever.  You tilt your head back and groan.  The sooner you get roaring drunk the better.
>Tango and Dumptruck stick to the trees, swapping stories and bad jokes.  You can hear them laughing.
>You only feel a little bit left out.  Obviously there was a metric shit-ton you've yet to understand.  You start to think if it's even possible to understand this place at all. Logic here was flip-flopped and twisted around like the craziest of crazy-straws.
>You need to get out of here and fast.  But all you could do was kill time.  You hope that letter gets to Dash soon.  Hell, maybe if you're lucky it'll get there today!
----
>You are Rainbow Dash and you haven't been sleeping too well.
>There is a knock on your door.  Groggily, stiffly, you pad across the soft surface of your cloud home and open up the front door.  Derpy Hooves is standing there, mail satchell at her side and smiling in the pleasant ever-present way she always is.
>"Oh, hey Derps, any mail for me today?"
>The cross-eyed mail mare smiles broadly.
"Nope!"
>"Nothing?  Not even a bill or something?"
>She shakes her head.
"Not a single thing in the whole wide world!"
>You stare blankly.  "Then why are you here?"
"I dunno."
>She flies away.  All you can do is shake your head and close your door with a feeling of massive disappointment.
>Rainbow closes her door to her cloud home.  She had enough on her plate without dealing with blonde mares a few clouds short of a thunderstorm.
>Maybe you'd get something tomorrow.
>You can't quite put your hoof on it, but you have a feeling that something very important is heading your way.  It's like an itch on the inside of your brain and you just can't scratch it no matter what you do.
>You go to your kitchen, hoping to find something to busy yourself with.  It's clean...or clean enough.  You're not hungry.  It's too early to drink, and no one to drink with at any rate.
>There's another urge to burst out a window and streak across the countryside and yell his name non-stop until someone answers back.  But you fight it.  You need to sleep.  You've been running yourself ragged these past days.  You had dark circles under your eyes.  The feathers on your wings were starting to fall off.
>You plop down on your airy bed and hope that sleep comes easier than it has been.
>You hug a pillow.  It doesn't help.
>You breathe out, very, very slowly.
>That doesn't help either.
---------------
>The trio of you get to the pools.  The ground becomes cleared up from trees and the grass and leaves gives way to slabs of rock and pebbles.
>There are maybe five or seven pools in total, all bubbling invitingly.
>Tango slides his massive body across the ground, and sighs contentedly as the warm stone does wonders to his cold blood.
"I really don't know why I don't come here more often.  My scaleth are in heaven right now."
>You hear a soft purring behind you.
"Hey Anon, turn around and say hi to-"
>"Lemme guess, Nahbi, right?"
"Oh, he figured that one out fast.  Glad he remembers me."
>You turn around, sure enough there's that tiger again.  Your blood pressure doesn't shoot up to the strastosphere like it did upon your first meeting.  She taught you how to fish, so she was part of the cool club.
>You can't really shake hands with a tiger so you settle for waving at her.  She tilts her head, not quite understanding the gesture.  You don't feel like explaining.
>"What brings you here?"
>She walks past you and skirts around the larger of the pools, gazing over the surface as if a fish made of solid gold was swimming inside it.
"I heard about your run in with the army ants.  Most amusing.  From the sound of things you nearly out-smarted them.  But then again, something that runs on brains smaller than a grain of sand cannot be too intelligent to begin with, no matter how many millions they may have."
>Your mouth can't quite close as you look towards Dumptruck.  "Was that a compliment or not?"
"Pretend it is."
"It is what it is, however you choose to see it."
>She stretches out by the pool, her massive claws extend and rakes at the stone surface, drawing deep gashes.
"And then I heard you, your friend, and Tango here were heading towards the pools with the intent of sampling more of that...whatever it was you added to the fish.  It sounded like a fine excursion.  It has been a slow day in the jungle."
>Okay, add a tiger to the hang-out list.  Your brain tries to run this in your common-sense calculator.
>You throw it out of the window.  Screw it, this was going to be fun.
>"Well, no point in putting things off, we just might have a pretty decent party now."  You pull the bottle out of your pack.  "So let's get this thing started."
>You twist open the cap.  The strong, stern odor of the whiskey fills the air.
>There is a splash in the pool.
>Swindly Tim's head comes pops out of the water.
"Hey guys."
"Hey Tim.
"Greetings, Tim.
"Howth it going, Tim?"
>"How does he do that?"
"He's got this druggo sixth-sense.  Damndest thing I ever seen."
>"Am I going to share this bottle with every animal in this forest?"
"'S headin' in that direction. I say we start drinking and drinking fast."
>Fifteen minutes later you are sitting naked in a natural hot-tub with a two capuchins, an anaconda, and a tiger.  You realize how this sounds like the beginning of a bar joke.  All of you are very, very, very pleasantly buzz-wadded.
>A part of Tango is curled around the edges of the pool, forming a very comfortable arm rest as the rest of him loops around the underside.  His head sits very still on the water's surface.  Nahbi is purring sleepily.  Dumptruck has his legs splayed over Tango and is floating with his head towards the center.  Swindly Tim is just floating aimlessly around the gurgling spring.  You nudge him away when he gets too close. "So's i was thinkin', yeah?"
"In-fucking-credible."
>"I think you used that joke already."
"'S a good fuckin' joke."
>You snicker.  IT IS!  "So I was thinkin'...you k'now, about the preserve and everythinging."
"Yah."
>"An' there's something I don't get.  The p0nies run this place, right?  Like, you guys can talk and make dirty jokes and do all the crazy shit that they can do...so what are you all doing heeerre, living in trees and eating each other and stuff?"
>Nahbi yawns. Dumptruck wafts his arms in the water.
"Alrigh, lemme explain guy.  Gimme another swig."
>You give him another swig.  He snaps his teeth and chitters wildly as he takes a gulp.
"Fuck. A'ight.  Okay, look.  Listen...listen."  He waves a hand in the air.  "First off...them p0nies are fekkin' lame.  But...they keep their distance.  'Cept for some of the fuckin' tourist, but I think the have to sign a waver or somethin' in case they get et."
>"No way."
"Lemme finish...alright, did Runnin' Trails tell yas about the fence around the park?  He did, alright, because they got this crazy fuckin' fence all around the park.  Now, d'ya think that's to keep us in, or ta keep dem out?"
>"It's keeping me in, 's all I know."  You grumble.  "Friggin'...horse things, tellin' me I can't leave."
"An' that's da weird part.  I think you're the only bastid I met that wants out.  Y'see, I spent a year outside da park.
>"For reallies?"
"Yup."
>"So that's how you know about shit you shouldn't know about"
"Oh no, here he goes again."
"Yeah I'm gonna go again. 'S true, I swear upon the night I fucked yer mom.  The Big D got real pissed at me, so I figured I'd high-tail it out of here for a bit.  Snuck aboard one of dem Diamond Dog teams that wriggle their way through da parks every now and again."
>"Why are Diamond Dogs herr?"  Your brain misses a very important point of this conversation.
"Poachers or sumfin, who cares...I dunno. Anyways.  Anyways.  Anyways.  So I sneaks out.  Set myself up in da forest near a town.  And lemme fuckin' tell you.  Anon.  Anon.  I'm tellin' you somethin'"
>"Tell me something'"
"I'm going to, stop rushin' me.  P0nies...they want you ta get involved in EVERY.  FREAKIN'.  THING.  They can't sit fuckin' still for an hour.  Kinda like you actually, but they're more annoyin' about it.  And they work on...everything.  They work da weather, and sing songs every damned day about changing it or something, don't know how to leave shit be."
>You nod sloppily.  True.  You hated goddamned Winter Wrap Up.  And you're just now noticing how the weather here has actual variation.   The clouds flow as they please.
"And they want to take care of all the animals...an I don't know why, but all da livin' things outside this place are the dumbest bunch of dumb-shits you ever seen.  They can't migrate on they own, dey can hardly feed demselves, I don't even know if they can fuck on their own."
>Nahbi scratches behind her ear with a massive paw.
"Why am I listening to you?"
"'Cus I got fascinating fuckin' tales that need tellin'.  Uh.  Oh yeah, so every day you got some of da p0nies trottin' up to ya with a basket a goods saying 'oh eat this, 's good for ya, why don't ya sleep in this tree, it's warm, don't take a crap on this building, stop sayin' all dem cuss words in front of da kids.'  I'm sittin' there going "back the fuck off, ya bitch, I'm tryin' to take a piss in peace here."
>"I...totally get what you're saying."
"I mean, don't get me wrong, they's a nice bunch and all, but...jeeze, a fella can turn into a poofter livin' out there."
>"I was living out there."
"My point exactly."
>Tango snickers.  You splash water at him.
"So one day I drink all dere booze and say 'das it, I'm going home.' and I waltz back in through da park gates, flip off Open Sky an never looked back.  I mean, yeh, there's a damn good chance of me getting eaten, but das just the way it is.  Besides, I'm fuckin' smart."
>Nahbi giggles.  You have never heard a tiger giggle before.
"Hey.  Hey.  Hey.  Tango."
>The snake bobs in the water.
"Dumptruck."
"You're cool as fuck, but you ain't ever eating me, 'cus I'm fuggin' smart."
>"Smart-ass more like it."
"Better than bein' a dumbass like you."
>You laugh.
"Here we can fuckin' live on our own.  The rangers have a strict minimal off-hands code of operation.  'S part of the rules.  Am I right?"
>The other animals all murmur in agreement.  You roll your eyes which throws off the momentum of the rest of your head.
>"You keep going on about these 'rules.'  Do you all have a guidebook that nobody's told me about?"
"Somefin' like that."
"You will learn in due time, human."
>"Alright, so you all enjoy a cozy free for all, yet, I keep hearing about this how this crazy super-animal Big Red who does what he wants and it scares the piss out of the rest of ya."
>And then EVERYTHING got super quiet.  You felt the muscles in Tango's body tense up immediately.  Even the gurgling water in the pool seemed to grow still.
>Dumptruck shook his head.  Tim snorted in the middle of the water.
"Way to be a buzzkill."
>"What?  Why is he so fucking terrifying?"  Dumptruck flaps his arms wildly, splashing water everywhere.
"He's got these teeth!  And these sharp fuckin' claws..and...and..."
>Nahbi raises a paw out of the water.  It wavers in the air slightly.
"Let me explain."
"Yeh, let the big scary pred talk about the bigger and scarier pred."
>"Please, do. Someone give me something straight for once."  Nahbi closed her eyes and swayed her head.
"The Red Fury is...something entirely different from the rest of us."
>"What do you mean?  What is he?"
"No one is...entirely sure.  Not even the rangers.  He simply showed up one night, long ago, and has spread terror ever since.  His mind is warped, and temper fiery.  All he does is stalk and consume.  We eat to live.  He lives to eat."
>"Bum bum bummmm"  You wave your hands dramatically.
"He has never spoken.  I'm not even sure he can speak.  If he communicates, it is only with the lower, crawling things of the forest.  He is always hunting.  And when he captures his quarry he is never...clean about it.  He prefers to draw it out.  I have heard the cries of his victims carry on for hours before his sick pleasures are fulfilled, however passingly."
>Dumptruck says flatly.
"I've seen the mess he leaves.  'S not right.  The way something can be finished off like dat."
>"Have you ever seen him?"
"Once, only in shadows, and by the light of the moon.  I will tell you this human, he is beyond the size of anything else in the jungle.  Only the elephants are bigger than he is.  There is little I fear, but the Red Fury is something entirely beyond anything I ever hope to encounter.  Thankfully he rarely ventures into the forests.
>Tango raises out of the water, he surveys the edges of the forest, noting the quiet crinkles and waving of trees, as if the beast himself was about to explode out of the jungle's edge.
"I thaw him once, too.  Or heard him.  Just the thound of his breathing made my spine thiver.  And I have a really long spine."  He flicked his tongue out.  "The air tathtes different when he's around.  Rotten and blood-thtained.  Poithoned.  I could hardly breathe."
>Nahbi nodded.
"His very saliva is poisoned with the blood of a thousand kills.  Depending upon his mood, a single bite from him can kill an animal in a matter of minutes, or stretch their deaths out over days of unrelenting agony.  He kills at his leisure."
>"Well ain't he just the biggest badass of the preserve."
"He rather is.  There is only one animal who the Red Fury fears, and that is Deimos."
>Dumptruck's tail starts to act up.
"Oh, Oh, yeah, of course, if the Big R is afraid of anything, of course it's gonna be the  Big D.  Look here, Anon, when Big Red comes through the jungle on his rare excitin' excursions, he never comes anywhere near the pools where Deimos lives."
>"Why'ssat?"
"'Cus Deimos kicked his ass one day.  I don' know the specifics, 's one of those stories you hear late at nights with the boys, kinda like right now.  Anyhow, Big Red tried to fuck around with something that couldn't help itself, and Deimos stumbled onto him, and then they get into this big fuckin' brawl.  They say it was a massacre.  Trees got toppled, rocks where thrown, and Deimos got that bastid in a headlock and smacked the shit out of his face.  They say his entire right-eye's all fucked up now."
>"So that's why all the monkeys hang around King Kong? 'Cus they know he's like...the shit?"
"It helps.  But then again, Deimos is a big fucker to start with.  When he talks, folks tend ta listen.  Point is, everyone knows Big Red has NEVER tried to fuck with Deimos since."
>"Jesus.  Well, why haven't the rangers tried to stop him if he' so whacko?"  Dumptruck flipped around in the water."
"I told ya before, they already did.  But they couldn't get at him.  Even then, it raised some noise in the preserve.  It was getting real close to breakin' Da Rules."
>"Which are?"
"Dey can't kill any of us.  Even somefin' as bad as Big Red.  Minimal interfuckin'ference.  'S a double-edged sword."
"Yes.  There was dialogue, with those who maintain the preserve and those who live within its borders.  Things reached a peak with the Red Fury after an incident with the elephants.  It was a horrible travesty.  The p0nies insisted on trying to remove him.  We allowed it.  But the toll was too great, and to little effect.   We told them to leave it be."
>"Who is we?"
"Many of us.  It was a very...complex period of time.  This drink has me feeling rather cloudy on the details."
"Raised a helluva stink on all sides."
>"So you'd rather live with Big Red, than have the p0nies come in and shoot him down?"
>They all nodded.
"'S part of da Rules."
>"Fuck these rules.  Rules say this, rules say that.  All they mean to me is that I can't fucking leave because some stupid purple-haired bitch pulled strings, signed some fancy papers and got me locked up here.  Listen, you guys...you guys are pretty fuckin' cool, but I don't belong here.  I don't.  I miss having clean underwear."
"Does that make you smell less bad?"
>"It helps."
"Then I miss it too."
>The animals break out in laughter.  "Har har har."  You wipe your face with warm water.  "I'm serious.  I wake up in the morning with these scary bug bites on my arms and legs.  Makes me wish I had some fucking bugspray.  Just makes me wanna get back to Rainbow Dash if nothing else."
"The fuck is a Ranbow Dash?"
>You've spoken too much. "Uh..just this...girl...back home."
"She a human like you?"
>"No...she's not." The animals look at you quizzically.
"You sayin' she's a p0ny?"
>"She is...yeah."  Dumptruck claps.
"You in luuuurve or something, kid?"
>You turn incredibly red.  "What?  No, God no.  No."
"This is what a liar looks like."
"He totally bonked her."
 >"That's none of your damned business.  She's just...cool, like you guys.  You'd like her.  If she was here we'd be ten-thousand times more smashed."
>You've have clearly been drinking too much.  You take a grand swig out of the bottle.  "See? I'm talking about...stuff.  I'm not used to that.  I need to get out of here, else I think I might go crazy.   Or die."
"Hey hey hey, I've done a damn good job of keeping you alive."
>You raise a finger in the air.  "Yes.  You have.  Actually."
"I'm still waitin' on a thank-you."
>"Fuck you, how's that?  Look, I got you your booze and everything, we're even, right?"
"Hell no."
>"What the hell do you mean 'hell no'?"
"First off, dis isn't booze, this is, this is is is - 's is good shit's what it is."
>Tango 'mmm-hmmm's' with enthusiasm.
"But it ain't BOOZE.  I want the stuff in dem skinny glass bottles and it's brown as shit."
>"Why?"
"I snuck off a few cases when I was livin' on the outside.  There's just somefin' so...decadent about it.  It's like...'fuck, this tastes like Boris's droppings, but I'm gon finish this bottle anyway 'cus I worked hard as cripes to sneak it away.'  And they're bitch and a half to open.  Cappin' one off is like a blessed achievement, know what I'm sayin?  Yeah.  If I could have one of dose things every day, I would."
>"Okay, okay, fine.  The second I get out of here, I'm gonna get you like...so much fucking booze, Dump."
"Ya better, or I'll claw ya eyes out."
"Can I have one?"
>"Why the fuck not, Tim."
>You swirl the bottle in your hand.  There is still an incredible amount of whiskey remaining.  This bottle must be never-ending or enchanted or something.
>"Who wants another round?"
"I don't know if I need...another.  I feel this urge to talk and not stop."
>"How so?"
"Erm.  Remember the fish you made the other day?  That tasted absolutely amazing.  I could talk about that for hours."
>"Raise your hand if you think the tiger has had enough to drink tonight."
>Nobody raises anything.
>Nahbi licks her chops in hesitation.
"Perhaps just one more."
"Hit me."
"I'll take two."
"I can't feel my tail, guyth."
>Everyone laughs.
---------
>And the next twenty-four hours become something of a blur.
>Bets were made, bad behavior was encouraged.  Some tourists were scared off before you remembered to put your pants back on.
>You're pretty sure you stole a jeep and raised some hell over the savannah because you woke up to a blaring horn, a bleeding forehead and a smoking engine that looks like it tried to have sex with a tree.
>"Oh....feck..."  You look around from inside the ruined jeep.  Swindly Tim is in the passenger seat.  Tango is hanging around all of the seat.  There's that wildabeest you were talking with several days ago...you think his new nickname is Scratches.  Oh, and a lion is back there as well.   They are all groaning in various states of pain and discomfort.  You notice the complete lack of Dumptruck.  "What the hell were we doing?"  The lion grins.
"I dunno...I think it was fun, though."
"No, theriouthly, I can't feel my tail."
>"I can feel everything.  And it all hurts.
>The inside of your skull hates you.  Your stomach hates you.
>There is a loud thud and a gush of wind on your side of the jeep.
>Aw hell.  You wave a hand. "Heyyy...Open Sky."
>Her ears are pointed straight up, and the tips of her wings are splayed out in razor-edged fury.
>She levels a tranq-rifle at you.
>"Goddami-"
*thwip*
------------------------------------------
>You wake up strapped to a table.  There is a bright light shining in your face.
>Alcohol and tranquilizers have thrown your state of mind into the topsiest of turvies.
"Seventeen."
>"...wha?"
"Seventeen fractured ribs.  Most of them Tango's.  Tim caught a bruise on his stomach, but his brain is so addled he hardly noticed it.  Burton, that's the lion, in case you were too drunk to remember his name, had to get stitches along his ear.  The wildabeest was okay, thank Celestia."
>You see the black outline of Open Sky steadily gain focus in your vision.  It is a very angry outline that is in posession of a voice that sounds like it's on the verge of causing extreme bodily harm.
"And of course you can't careen a jeep through the plains without causing a lot of very uneeded duress on the herds.  You set off more than a few panics.  Some hooves were dislocated.  Paws stepped on.  But no deaths.  I was breathing nothing but relief for half an hour when I heard that news."
>"Wel-"
"I'm not finished."
>You spine locks up.  She had a voice cold enough to freeze water.  Never mind that you were already tied down and unable to move or see anything clearly.
"And then there's you.  Minor cuts.  Bruising.  Cut lip, but all of your teeth are in tact somehow.  How.  Fortunate."
>She growls that last bit through clamped teeth.  You can see now that she is reading from a thick stack of papers.  The walls are lined with steel and lots of tiny bottles of...something.  It's cold in the room.  You'd think you would feel relief, but its only inspiring the oddest streak of dread.
"Not to mention the jeep.  That'll run us about five-thousand bits.  It's not as though the budget is thin enough after being stretched from here to the moon."
>You scowl bitterly.  "Put it on my fuckin' tab."  She harumphs.
"Oh no, you don't owe us anything.  But, we however, do owe you something.  You see, whenever we take on a new charge or transfer from another preserve, we innoculate them against native diseases, parasites, the like.  And it looks like your entry process was rushed.  I'm going to tear someone's head off for that one, don't worry."
>She pulls out a long tray covered with many long and pointy syringes.
>Oh this is such a good day.
"And seeing as how you are directly responsible for nearly half the preserve needing to undergo some medical procedure or other, I would hardly think it fair to everyone else that you be left out."
>"You're not actually going to give me my booster shots, are you?"
"I am.  You seem not to take this seriously."
>Your head wants to split open and let a thousand demons fly out.  You are not in the mood for this, so you decide to let whatever alcohol that remained in your system do the talking.  "You're keeping me locked up in a goddamned zoo and you're talking about sticking me up full of needles 'cus I stepped out of line.  No, I'm being as sincere as a kid in a freaking Chuck-E-Cheese."
"Grand Theft Auto.  Driving while intoxicated.  Reckless endagerment of innocent species on the brink of extinction.  Something that'd get you throw in jail for years and years anywhere else -THAT is pretty damned serious.  Tango is one of three anacondas in the preserve, six left on the planet.  Tim, Celestia help us all, is one of thirty-five capuchins.  The wildabeest and the lion populations are finally starting to stabilize, and I don't need you actively working against that!"
>She was yelling now.  Right in your face.  It's making your head hurt.  She pulls out a vaccination.
"If I hated you, which I do, I wouldn't be giving you these.  It's a suite set of vaccinations.  Protects against the nastier things we have here.  If I wanted to get rid of you, I'd just let you loose and wait for the bacteria in the water to eat away at your intestines in two weeks and make your brain overheat, melt and run out of your ears.  But instead I'm going to give you everything you need to insure that doesn't happen."
>She dabs a spot of rubbing alcohol on your arm.
"But all the same."
>She readies the needle.  The pointed tip glints in the already harsh light.
"I don't expect you to thank me for this."
>You pass out somewhere along the way.
>You wake up.
>It's hot again, and even brighter than before.  Your arm feels like it's been stung by a thousand bees.  You lift it into the light and examine it.  It's coverd in polka-dot band-aids.
>You realize your body is no longer strapped down, so you sit up.  Your hands and legs brush against sand.
>A lot of sand.
>"What in th-"
"You're in the desert."
>Aw crap, she's still here.  The yellow pegasus is sitting several yards away from you on a rock.  You lift your arms up, gestruring to the sand-ridden expanse around you. "You can't be this much of a bitch, Open Sky.  The desert?  You don't want me to die of infection in two weeks, but you're fine with dehydration in...three hours or something?"
"You're not going to dehydrate.  There's a well-spring, forty minutes in that direction."
>She nods off.  She takes off her hat and rolls it over in her hooves.
"You clearly need time to adjust, and think things over."
>"I clearly need to get the fuck out of this place."
"YOU.  CAN'T.  You don't understand.  I cannot allow you to leave.  I also cannot allow you to so wilfully endanger the lives of others because of something as astronomically idiotic as intoxicated driving."
>"Ah, and yet you let some of these animals get gobbled up and everything's peaches and cream?  I want you to open up a dictionary, point to the word 'endanger' and tell me what the hell you're reading."
"That's different.  That's the way they want to be.  We give them their space, and let them live as they live.  Those that ask for help, we give it to them.  Otherwise it's minimal interference."
>There's that word again.
"I don't know if you've been paying attention, but the animals here are different from those outside.  Worlds different.  They are complex, highly individualistic, self-sufficient, and are constantly reestablishing their own sense of equilibrium.  For the most part, they don't need our help, they don't want it in the first place.  So we respect that.  We keep as much of the world away from them as possible.  The rest is their decision.  You stealing a jeep and bowling them over like you're going for a high-score is not part of that decision."
>She sighs as she jumps down from the rock.  She stares at the sky and starts reciting.
"Just this morning I've got reports of two groups of Diamond Dogs that breached the fence.  My team is scouring the borders right now trying to track them down before they can cause any harm.  Every medic in the preserve is cleaning up the mess you've made.  We're going to have to recalibrate and modify every jeep in the park to prevent this from happening EVER again.  I have a responsibility, to the animals in the preserve, to those that follow my orders, and even you, as much as it makes me grit my teeth."
>"You have just...the funniest way of showing it."  She takes a deep breathe and looks at you with very tired eyes.
"Running Trails told me that you sent a letter."
>"I did."
"I could imagine what it said.  You want out.  Fine, wonderful.  If you can find a way to get yourself exempted then by all means, get out of my hair.  Just don't, for one moment, think you can recklessly imperil anyone else who is just trying to live their lives in this preserve."
>"If I bug you so much, why aren't you trying to get me out of here?  You're the head ranger, there has to be some kind of string you can pull."
"I have zero say over that sort of decision.  If I could I would boot you out here so fast you'd swallow your eyeballs.  Do you think you're the first one that's caused unnecessary risk?  Hardly."
>Her hoof drags at the sand.  The collar on her vest flaps in the wind as she focuses on the horizon.
 "So instead I'm moving you here.  Very few predators.  Nothing for you to hop into and drive around and run over.  Plenty of quiet so you can sit and think about what you've done."
>She flapped her wings and hovered a few feet in the air.  Her nostrils flare as she snorts and looks at you with something that almost comes across as sympathy.
"Your circumstances are...iffy.  Maybe, MAYBE -there is something I can do for you.  I'd hate to see how you acted before.  You are clearly a bigger danger to the animals here than anything outside.   It's going to take time, and I can't gaurantee anything.  Keep in mind, you really did piss me off royally with that stunt of yours.  Don't push your luck, or you're gonna snap what precious little thread of patience I have left."
>You put your hand over your heart and raise the other.  "I'll be the biggest angel in heaven if there's anyway of you getting me out of here."  The golden pegasus looks at you with disdain.  Like the way someone looks at a spider when they're trying to catch it under a cup so they can shoo throw it out the front door instead of smashing it and having to clean up the mess afterwards.
"For your sake, you better.  I'll leave you be now.  Check the damn map you stole.  You'll be fine."
>She dug into her vest.
"By the way, have this."
>She tosses you a lollipop.  You catch it in middair and spin it in your hand.
"For being such a good patient."
>She takes off into the air.  You read the wrapper.  It's grape flavored.  And you do like grape.
>And for a moment there is no sound but that of the wind and the occasional cawing of a bird overhead.
>You wonder where Dumptruck went off to.  Then you realize you are all alone.
>Oh goodness.
>...wait a sec...
>How the fuck did she get you here?