They're EVERYWHERE!

1988, 9999: 2

"What to do? What to do?" mumbles 1988 to himself.

"...big ponies, small ponies, smooth pony, green pony, brown pony..." 9999, trotting next to him, keeps whispering to itself, "...green eyes, pink eyes, brown eyes, red eyes-"

"Good eyes," Hacksmith puts a hoof on 9999's head.

"What? Where?!" the drone starts turning his head repeatedly from side to side.

"In here," the earth pony flicks 9999's forehead.

"I'm not trading those..." it scrunches its nose in thought, "Maybe just one for something really nice. A real helmet maybe? Oooh! And an eyepatch, I'd definitely need an eyepatch," the drone gives him an unsettlingly honest stare, "Do you have an eyepatch?"

"I didn't mean- wait, you seriously thought I wanted your eye?"

"Awww... so no helmet and an eyepatch?" 9999 pouts.

"Nopony wants your eye!"

"I'm confused now..."

"You're messing with me, are you?"

"You ponies don't trade stuff?"

"Not our organs!"

"But I left all my stuff at home, how am I supposed to trade if someone has something totally awesome?"

"No. Organs."

"...can't even trade eyeballs for something awesome..." grumbles 9999, "...it's not like I need both-" it suddenly stops and its untraded eyes go wide, "SHINY!"

Hacksmith and 1988 exchange confused glances.

"9999, we must-"

*Whommm!*

"Aaand off he- it goes," comments Hacksmith.

"9999, get over here or I'll tell 156 when she gets here!" 1988 calls out to no effect, "Oookay, a disobedient drone, that's new," he follows the vague direction in which 9999 disappeared.

"Don't worry, my filly was the same when she was smaller," Hacksmith smiles, "There wasn't a day when I didn't long for a leash to put her on."

"Yeah, well, I doubt your filly was ever in danger of being clubbed to death due to her looks."

"You're overreacting," Hacksmith picks up the pace to keep up with 1988.

"I'm not."

1988's cold tone stops Hacksmith's further objections.

*Bzzzt!*

"Eeep!" they hear 9999's surprised yelp and bolt forward past the corner of the office building to the area filled with stacked freight containers repurposed for living.

*Bzzzt!*

"Ehehehehehehe- eeep!"

Hacksmith stops.

"Shinyyyy-"

*Bzzt!*

"-eep!"

"You know, before this, I'd say that calling you bug ponies would be racist, buuut..."

*Bzzt!*

"STOP SHOVING YOUR FACE INTO THAT BUG ZAPPER!" 1988's eye twitches, he bites down on the stub that constitutes the excited drone tail, and starts pulling 9999 away.

"I'll trade you all my sticks and rusty horseshoes for iiiiiit!" the drone desperately waves its forelegs at Hacksmith staring in disbelief, "You can have both of my eyes too! And a leg! You in the market for some primo hooves? I've got fooooour!"