Imbalanced: New Age

by Nameless Narrator

Love and Hatred: Target

[Blazing's Entry]

Corrupted vegetation, huh? I never thought about it too much after my resurrection. Greenery turned into blackery, and fauna tried to either mate with me or eat me. It makes sense, though, for something boosted by Harmony's taint to eventually make Corrupted its prey.

Wait, no. It doesn't. They are the soil, they are the territory, they are the same mass split into different bodies.

So what the hay just happened? Something ate a bunch of Corrupted, and it sure looked like another one. A Corruptor would make sense from the perspective of the attack, but there is no reason for it to happen. In fact, it would be far more likely to happen to us.

Thankfully, other than the strange shadows following us nothing else has happened yet. They don't even look as if they're massing up, but considering a tunnel just swallowed a bunch of corrupted griffons in front of my eyes, I'm not letting my guard down.

What? I've written enough to be able to do it while walking. It doesn't look pretty or overly legible, but it works.

[End Entry]

Our trek through the dry sewer continues. The griffons in the back are jumpy, twitching at every bigger grain of sand crunching under a boot. I close my little notebook which disappears into thin air.

"How do you do that?" asks Nicolai, "I mean, we used heavy suppression rings on you in the Holy City and they didn't work."

I shrug.

"It's a part of my divinity, I guess. I don't use magic to summon it and teleport it away, I can't do that. To be honest, I can't do magic at all."

Few agents give me a quick glance. I don't need to see past the dark visors of their helmets to know the lack of belief in their eyes. It's not like they can understand the difference between magic and divinity, so I don't mind.

"Really?"

"I can manipulate unnatural power used at me or near me, but outside of below average telekinesis I may as well be an earthpony. My divinity, on the other hoof, stems from who I am. I think it allows me to alter reality to a certain degree in a way I deep down feel is... my way."

Nicolai walking next to me nods.

"I see. You are a martial artist-"

I stop him right there.

"I used to think so, but Antares quickly taught me otherwise. After all the time he spent training me I'm still more a brawler with some modicum of skill and craptons of experience rather than a real martial artist."

"-close combat, hooves-on fighter and your innate power answers by disallowing others to use ranged weapons when facing you."

Smart griffon. As far as I know it's not completely correct, but he hit pretty close to the bullseye, and I'm not sharing the more accurate assessment of my power I discovered at Joy's dimension. Who knows when griffon politics might turn against me? I'm not just dragging others down to my level and beating them with experience. Through my short showdown with Vertradict, I know that when I can't block the enemy's advantage completely, I can give myself some. Heck, piercing dragon scales is no easy feat even for archmages, much less those of a tainted elder dragon.

My power is sort of a balancing factor, I think, which would also mean I can't use it to gain an unfair edge over someone. That's not exactly a problem, though, since I don't bully weaker ponies and the enemies on my back are freaking monstrous.

"You catch on quickly, Nicolai."

"All part of the job-"

"Aaaaah?!" an agent on the side passes under some vines hanging from the ceiling which shoot down, tangle around his helmet, and drag him upwards.

"Cut him down!" orders Nicolai.

The closest agents swing their swords at the mass of vines completely covering the flailing griffon's head. In such close space, they either can't put enough strength into the blows or the plant thing is far tougher than it looks.

"Release the helmet!" says the big boss in a firm tone.

A single click later, the griffon's head slips out and he falls on all fours, leaving his helmet lodged within the ball of... tentacles. Everyone backs away from the growth, now aiming their rifles at it. The lost helmet is unfortunate, but better than a lost head.

The ball of tendrils wobbles.

*Pop!*

The helmet shoots out-

"Ow!"

-hitting its owner in the beak. I guess the 'anomaly' didn't find it tasty without the griffon inside.

"Lights on! Check the helmet out for any parasites or anything irregular. If it's usable, suit up and let's keep going. I'm not going to question any possible or impossible strokes of luck."

"Yes, sir!" the afflicted agent salutes, firing up a flashlight embedded in the foreleg of his suit. When we all move further away from the plant or creature, two more agents help with examining all touched equipment, "No result, sir. Everything looks alright," he puts the helmet on, and I hear him in my ear a second later, "Night vision undamaged. Radio test, one, two, three."

"Recieved," confirms Nicolai.

"Sound system fully functional, as well as targeting markers. I'm ready to go."

"Someone up there likes you, Folley."

"Seems so, sir."

With flashlights turning off one by one, we resume our slow progress through the web of tunnels.

"Point guard, warn us about anything irregular on the floor or the ceiling from now on, even if you think it's moss."

"Yes, sir."

Looking at the side of the tunnel, I shiver and tap on Nicolai's shoulder.

"Aaand what about those?"

Silhouettes... pony shadows cast on the wall are moving with us. They have no eyes or features, but I know they are staring. They look as if something was just behind the first molecular layer of concrete and moved through it as easily as we walk unhindered by anything but air.

But why ponies? Here, deep in the Griffon Empire, ponies. Granted, there are ponies living in the Empire, about eight percent of the population actually from what I heard, so...

...no, I won't go around trying to explain it without any real clues.

"Everyone, try not to touch the walls," Nicolai shifts, and I can finally hear his calm tone crack a little, "Picking up the pace sounds like a great idea right now, doesn't it?"

"According to the map, we should be at the exit we need very shortly," says Flora, looking at a transparent model of the sewers floating in front of her. It's the same device Nicolai used when he led us through the desert. I really gotta ask for one eventually.

The tracking number on my visor shows >252<, which means the direct route must be obstructed, but we're still far closer than I expected.

Alright, take a deep breath. Focus. Let's go.

With Flora guiding our progress using her gadget, it only takes ten minutes according to my helmet for us to reach a ladder leading upwards into a closed manhole. Everyone is on edge, looking around in search for the still following unnatural shadows and turning their heads from side to side.

Nothing. I almost wish something would break the tension and finally attack us... almost.

"Point guard, go," says Nicolai, which is followed by our front griffon climbing up the ladder, pushing upwards against the cover with utmost care, shoving it aside with barely a scratch, and slowly peeking out.

With a bleep, another tracking circle appears on my visor, this one only several steps away and up.

The agent whispers into his microphone:

"The door to the target is open. No obstruction in sight. Two- three Corrupted around. Two across the road, one on the far corner of our building. They all seem to be asleep."

"Then get moving," orders Nicolai, "Slow and steady unless something moves. Then we rush straight up and try to defend the roof. Got the building floor plan ready, Flora?"

"Transmitting right now. Point guard, confirm."

"Got it. Moving out!" with another whisper, he quietly drags himself up onto the street.

Nicolai taps my shoulder as I keep looking into the tunnel where shadows are moving from wall to wall. This time it's not subtle, rather pure oily blackness draining from the concrete and forming something, "Your turn."

I shake my head, nodding towards the phenomenon.

"I'm going up last. I have the best chance against whatever that is. Just be ready to pull me up if needed."

The griffon nods, and the squad moves up one by one.

No reason to stay in this creepy place.

I look up, climbing up the first few bars.

I look back down.

It's there, in the empty trough.

A pony.

A completely black, featureless pony. No tentacles, no eyes, no mouth, no hooves. It could be a stallion, or it could be a big mare.

The "muzzle" of the creature splits in half, revealing a growing obsidian hole filled with wriggling.

"...hisssssssss..."

The multiverse is full of possible alternate realities, but there is not a single one in which I disobey the cold sweat on my back and my weakening legs and NOT get the fuck out.

"Closeit closeit closeit closeit!" I keep muttering as I bolt out into the deadly and yet somehow far more normal night.

The last two griffons around close the manhole. I don't need to look for a way thanks to the arrow at the right edge of my visor which reveals an outlined door to the building only several steps away. Quickly, but not in blind rush, which is something I'd like to tell myself, I trot up four stairs and join the others scouting out the bottom floor of... whatever this used to be. My closest guess is a shopping mall, though an enormous one compared to what I used to know in old Manehattan.

[Puffy Plume Parfumes]

Yep, the sign above one cubical space separated with a wall of broken glass says it all.

Across what looks like the main promenade of the open, segmented space, there's our target - a wide staircase leading further up.

"Four on the left, two on the right," Nicolai's comment ends my examination, "One is awake and getting up. Prepare to fire and run."

The Corrupted he's talking about is a female griffon watching us, head tilted. Her long talons score deep grooves into the already cracked tiles covering the floor, and she spreads her wings menacingly. Even for a corrupted griffon she's huge, over twice Nicolai's height and overall build.

That might actually be our saving grace, if the general rules of original Corrupted really apply to griffons.

"Don't!" I hiss, "Just keep her in sight and move as fast as we can to the stairs. She looks like a Protector and we're in her 'territory' now. If we get out quickly, we might escape without a fight."

"Move!" orders Nicolai without any questions.

The griffoness growls and whips her spiked tail around as our course brings us closer to her. She coils up like a spring about to go off...

...and relaxes as we take our first steps upstairs.

Note to self - corrupted griffon Hunters are the real assholes of the tainted race.

Six floors and a bunch of sleeping Corrupted later, we arrive to a small door looking like a service exit with a plaque reading 'Roof'. Our point guard pulls the handle which does nothing aside from clicking.

"Do you have some universal Black Ops key?" I ask.

He splashes something onto the lock which begins to hiss and smoke.

"We do."

Pushing forward, he forces the door to open, and we finally make it onto the flat roof which makes the final marker of my visor disappear. The view from here must be pretty impressive during the day since I can now feel the clearly unobstructed freezing desert air even through the suit. We're pretty high up. I doubt it's anywhere close to the tallest bank buildings in the city center, but it's a lot nonetheless.

"Scour the area for Corrupted," I hear Nicolai as if he was standing next to me despite him exploring the edge of the roof, "Twenty minute break afterwards while Flora sets the beacon up. Are you going to need a raised post?"

Flora, on the other hoof, is right next to me, rummaging through a bag she took off.

"Depends on the readings, sir," she says, distracted, "but have the guys prepare it just in case. It doesn't take much time to disassemble, and if our target is in this third of the town, I should be able to snipe anything you meet along the way from up here."

"Umm, do you need a hoof?" I ask Flora, unsure what to do right now.

"Not an untrained one, no. Why don't you take a break? It'll be your show pretty soon."

"Oh good," I collapse with my back against the nearest raised air vent, taking the helmet off and breathing heavily.

"Damn, you're out of shape!" Flora chuckles.

"Round is a shape..." I mumble.

Not that I'm fat. I walk around far too much for that... I just suck at running, doubly up far too many flights of stairs. The backpack, suit, and a rather tall building didn't help either.

Without the helmet, I can simply close my eyes and let my tactical vision spread.

A group of griffons are assembling something from a bunch of poles they got from somewhere- oh, it looks like each one carried few short ones which they are now putting together into a raised platform. That must the the post for Flora. The griffoness herself is building something far smaller and from the looks of it significantly more complex of about her height made once again from parts scattered over the bags of multiple agents. The rest of the agents are almost done with their search of the roof, and are sitting down all over the place to take a short break.

The calm before the storm... or before further search for the storm.

I appreciate the rest anyway.

Two quick high-pitched beeps eventually come from Flora's now blinking... totem -damn, I feel like a cave pony surrounded by all this tech- and her voice in my ear announces:

"Got him, and most other signatures of Corrupted along the way."

"How many," asks Nicolai.

"About as many as you'd expect in what used to be a populated town. Near to no movement, though."

"I'll take any blessing I can get at this point. So, where is the target?"

"Southern edge of town, residential area. Setting up a marker now."

I put my helmet on again and turn in the direction of the new white circle.

>3469<

I hear Nicolai's chuckle.

"Looks like agent Cromach stayed at home after all that's happened," he says, "Flora, I can't leave more than one agent with you-"

"No problem, boss. I can handle this on my own. Take everyone with you. I'm pretty sure you'll need every talon on the way. The streets are infested with Corrupted. I sent you the markings."

"Yeah, that's gonna be one tough route."

I walk over to Nicolai looking at his own map filled with red dots, some bigger, some smaller.

"Hey," I poke him, "How do you know which one is Cromach?"

"What do you know about machine pattern recognition, heat signature analysis, and trace magic absorption?"

"Forget I asked."

Nicolai pats my back.

"We're certain it's him, don't worry."

"Alright," I nod and look into the darkness with the circle in the middle of my visor.

So, Crom's still around his house, which means that on some level he remembers something.

Is it going to be enough?

Or is it just an animal instinct?

Comments

[Two_Madmans]

With Flora guiding our progress using her gadget, it only takes ten minutes according to my helmet for us to reach a ladder leading upwards into a closed manhole. Everyone is on edge, looking around in search for the still following unnatural shadows and turning their heads from side to side.

The Foundation should send MTF already.

[Anonymous Critic]

>3469<

I've never thought a number could fit in so many innuendos.