//------------------------------//
// 46. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part IV 
// Story: Millennia: Eye of the Storm 
// by Thunderblast 
//------------------------------//

By late afternoon, the smoky streets of lower Manehattan had long cleared of civilians. After the shield dispersed and the threat of flooding no longer persisted along the shoreline, normal evacuations recommenced, and although no one was around to give orders, it became a personal mission of mine to track down anypony hiding out and get them off the island. Surely there would be one or two out here too scared to leave alone.

The horrid stench of natural gas and leaking sewage permeated the atmosphere, though at this point I'd long acclimated to it, as much as I hate to admit. If this doesn't count as the true suck as some of the more hardcore and longer-serving Marines mention from time to time, I can't begin to fathom what does.

As I strolled along cracked sidewalks and past shattered storefronts, memories of the past came full circle. Distant pops of explosions brought reminiscences of the day the Constitution inflicted chaos upon the city, when we ran out of Anchorage's dormitory and gazed out over the foggy skyline to see columns of smoke rising from the financial district. It took every ounce in me to keep myself in line wandering the city alone.

The destruction, while easily ten times worse than the December attacks, brought me back to the street ambush when jets carpet bombed the area to hold enemies back, where two Marines perished. Many more including myself could have been killed had it not been for my quick thinking, or Snow Storm's advice that guided me to stopping a rocket-propelled grenade from wiping out two whole platoons storming an enemy-infested city block.

By some miracle, what remained of my sanity held steady, albeit dangling from a splitting, paper-thin thread. Wandering the city alone and having to bear witness to the apocalypse as it occurred around me forced myself into conserving my senses by drowning out what I could and neglecting to study my surroundings which, admittedly, was not the brightest idea then, realizing at any moment a building could drop on my head and crush me. Danger aside, doing so severely limited my perception when scouting out survivors, being the entire reason I hadn't made my way back to base just yet.

Suddenly, a firm tug below the shoulder yanked me sideways by a grasping arm I did not see in the quickness of the moment, swiftly pulling me into a narrow passageway on my right before my muscles even had time to react. I yelped in alarm, flapping my wings defensively and threw a blind hook with my free hoof to catch whoever or whatever grabbed me, only to be forced against the roughly-textured, cracked concrete wall with a grunt that forced half of the wind from my lungs.

My mind raced in various directions as adrenaline kicked in, blinding me temporarily from reality. Not knowing what to think or expect, I thrashed around in retaliation, only to be firmly held in place against the wall. Sharpened ends of what turned out to be a claw clutched over my muzzle, silencing any noise made in the struggle.

"Shh, shh, easy. I'm not going to hurt you," the figure asserted, keeping his volume low between the two of us. That, however, wasn't enough to fully relax me.

Opening my eyes to finally see what snatched me, my sights first met with the beak of a griffon and its fuzzy white cheeks, its talon still covering my mouth without digging in to cheek flesh. Looking up just a hair, the larger, stockier figure donned a dark blue tactical helmet with goggle attachments in the upright position, among other matching militaristic gear. Raising his other talon, the griffon flicked up his gold-shaded visor to expose his pear-green cores and make steady eye contact in an attempt of a show of trust.

Out of mild shock, I kicked my hind leg forward, only for it to harmlessly bounce off his chest plates and bring a low grunt out of him as I attempted a second time at freeing myself. He dug his claws slightly to pinch and nothing more, forcing me to stop squirming yet again. "M-mmph!" I winced, eyes widening.

"I said..." he leaned closer, applying pressure to my torso. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Finally able to smack his claw away, I panted in both adrenaline, but also trying to breathe normally with the weight on my chest. "Kind of funny for you to say that in the middle of squeezing the breath out of me!"

"Sorry," he apologized, setting me down as gentle as can be. That's definitely a first for this situation.

Standing on four hooves, I wiped down my vest, despite it being as dirty as can be from all of the soot floating about. "You're a griffon. What reason do I have to trust you?" I snarled, glaring up at the larger figure no more than a half a foot taller than me now that we both stood upright.

"Oi, what did I say, Captain?" chirped what I could assume to be one of his squad mates, or friends. Or both. Clearly they were trained operatives, considering the correlating gear they all wore. "We get a bad rep from these ponies. Should've let 'em kill him."

Glancing over his shoulder, the griffon who I now knew as their commanding officer spoke in a language I didn't recognize. Judging by the other's expression in response, perhaps he told him to shut up, and so he did. 

"Disregard him. You'll see soon enough why you should trust me—or us, for that matter. There is a lot to fill you in on, Star Shooter, so go with your best wits and let me explain when we have time."

Caught off guard, the blood in my veins ran cold. In fact, it froze completely solid, just like my body itself, and my heart skipped a beat before it returned to a heavy pound against my chest's wall. "Ho-how do you know my name?"

The griffon blinked a couple of times, but then gave the faintest of smiles that curved his lips... beak... what the hell are they called? "Because we have met before, and I know you are out here wandering because you are lost."

I took a large stride back, rear pressing to the wall with nowhere else left for me to go. Perplexed as ever, my head cocked slightly. "I... I don't remember you. How do you know who I am? Where have we seen each other?"

"You should know. I picked you up by the throat and, if I recall correctly, told you to forget everything." His gentle simper shifted into a smirk. "Seems as though it worked—"

Lurching forward, my forehooves crashed into his chest, knocking him onto his back as I landed on top. The griffon let off a surprised yip, doing nothing to fight back, even as I grasped his collar with both hooves and shook him. "You were on the Alder?!"

Grunting as the back of his helmet smacked the ground a couple of times, he threw up an empty talon to stop me. Or, perhaps, a gesture to prevent his friends from tearing me off of him and pinning me, or worse. "W-wait! Give me a minute to explain! Less than a minute, even!"

Teeth clenching, I eased off of the griffon a little and planted my hooves on either side of him. "Sixty seconds, that's all I'm going to give you before I start splitting feathers. Go!"

Calmly, so as to not give any false impression that would force me into retaliating, he sat up only halfway. "As I said, there is a lot you must be informed of. One minute won't nearly be enough, so I will make this quick and hope you let me tell you more later."

I backed off enough to let him sit upright, eyeballing him and his talons closely for any sudden moves. He reached up, slipping the helmet off of his head, revealing his shortened black hair before holding the headpiece in the pit of his arm.

"What is your name?" I questioned first, holding a stern and slightly intimidating demeanor to my voice.

"Zjitzo," was his immediate answer. "Call me Captain, if you wish. That is my rank."

"All right." Damn griffons and their weird ass names. "Why did you attack us when we came to the rescue?"

"My squadron and I were going after a lead we had been seeking for months, the Alder. Our fears were correct, and it was ultimately left up to us to decide on how the smuggling run would be dealt with. For two weeks we spent holding out as sailor transfers with doctored credentials so as to not arouse suspicion among the crew. 

"The night we sailed into the cyclone was when we realized the sinking could be covered up without a trace of what truly happened, and this would make ponies blame the storm to keep our operation in the dark. That was, until you and your pals came along," he mentioned with an edge to his tone. "We knew you five were on the ship that night. Rather, we didn't want to blow the charges to avoid unnecessary casualties."

A glare took form on my countenance. "So why shoot at us?"

"That was an accidental discharge. We only engaged when you started shooting back, though we purposefully missed every shot. If we were out for blood, it is that which we would have achieved. We were simply observing your acts from the shadows while I considered the best approach to you ponies without anypony getting hurt," he further explained.

"And the flash grenade?" I raised an eyebrow.

"We needed to make an escape as much as you did. But, you let the ponies behind all of this get away when the ship split in half."

"How did you get away?" my brow furrowed further. Even with an airevac, we still narrowly escaped with a casualty.

"We almost didn't," rejoined a female griffon and the second smallest of the group, the emblem half concealed in a rolled sleeve below her shoulder revealing a rank similar to that of a specialist, which is what I assumed her to be. My attention shifted to her as she spoke with a notable foreign timbre of sorts. 

"When your helicopter arrived, it spotted us, even opened fire. We jumped ship and had to dive for an ally submarine secretly following to pick us up when the job was done."

"So, where are you from? I have a feeling you five don't base anywhere around here." My gaze shifted back to Zjitzo, allowing my painfully-tense muscles to ease off for the first time in at least a few days.

"The Griffish Isles, originally, though I spent most of my childhood being raised in a slummy apartment in Prance. Moved back when I turned eighteen and started off as a police officer in Trottingham, got offered something I simply could not refuse from the military on behalf of the Griffish Intelligence Commission," he explained, motioning his claw.

I gave a small nod. Now at least I had an idea of his background, the last thing I would get if he meant harm. Although, a sudden betrayal in the future couldn't be ruled out just yet. "All right, Zjitzo, back to the Alder. Why were you targeting it?"

"They weren't transporting oil as what a tanker is typically used for, as you can imagine. They were transporting an illegal and extremely volatile substance made with a rare liquid found only in some parts of the eastern world that can be utilized as a highly efficient type of fuel for machinery built to be compatible with it, and we believe it is what powered the machine at sea."

"How did you know about all of this ahead of time?" I questioned, curious to know more now.

"Millions worth of intel with the aid of a Lunar Marine squadron based out of this city. For two years we had been tracing this lead from the very roots and were only able to pick up on it with their help."

"Just you and them know about it? What was done to prevent it? You know, other than wiring the ship with explosives?"

"Enough to delay the plans, though it seems Armet got the upper hoof on us while we were on standby for a new lead and caught us all off guard. Last thing we did was go after their ghost boat, as you so clearly recall."

I blinked as I thought over it. "So, they were shipping this substance to Equestria, but for what purpose? The pulse device still activated without it. Why deliver more?"

"That is why we ventured here to investigate. I have a hunch you too were skeptical of our encounter before now, but not for the reason of why we were there," he remarked, garnering a hesitant nod from me. This was information potentially falling in the wrong hooves—or claws, in this instance. "What do you know?"

Frankly, not that much. These guys apparently knew a lot more than I did, and what I had was just little side pieces that seemed to hold no real significance. "My friend Anchorage raised suspicions about the incident and tried to figure out what the ship was hauling. But not just that, before I was kidnapped over a week ago, we randomly stumbled across the captain of the Alder poisoned in a Bronclyn alleyway. Come to think of it, it's less random than I thought; a distraction so that I could be captured, if you will. I still don't entirely know what for."

Zjitzo's head tilted in genuine curiosity. "A prisoner of war? My assumption is because you knew too much already, so he wanted you out of the way before you put all of the pieces together."

"To make sure I wouldn't say a word to anypony." I gave an agreeing nod, gaze following the somewhat bulky griffon as he rose from the ground. "So, you came here to figure out what the fuel would be for, I take it that's long passed. What now?"

"Now..." he let off a sigh, grabbing his rifle off his back, the exact same as before with every attachment I recalled seeing, cocking it. "Now we have much more pressing matters to worry about."

I grunted at that, looking around us. "I hear you there." My gaze met with Zjitzo's once more, and I directed him a slightly apologetic look. "Thank you for telling me this."

The griffon captain gave a firm bob of his head in acknowledgement. "I'm glad I could change your views, not often do ponies listen to someone like me or my brothers anymore. Not after this place took the full brunt of the Constitution last year. Great job on fending them off, by the way."

His comment furrowed my brow a little, but instead of questioning, I returned a small nod. As my maw parted to speak, a startling thud that shook the ground prevented me from carrying on. At that, I tensely studied my surroundings, as did the others.

"What was that?!" whispered Zjitzo's corporal, drawing his firearm, a foreign-made rifle judging by its more modern design than what Equestria predominantly has to offer as far as guns go.

"Cover, on me!" the captain ordered, waving his talon as he propped up along the wall corner, stood on his two paws. I sneaked behind an overturned carriage, half crushed by a fallen steel and concrete chunk of building.


***


"Sir, are you for certain that it is a good idea for us to stay put?"

"Yes, most definitely! We're in one of the most structurally sound buildings in the city. There's plenty of food and water for us to get by until help comes our way," the producer protested. "Until then, we should work on restoring feed to broadcast live. There are plenty of scared ponies out there in need of a trusted voice."

"But don't you think we are better off getting out of town? We don't know if there will be another quake, and I guarantee this place won't be lucky three times in less than a day!" Firetail retorted, irritated by his boss's instructions. He simply wasn't willing to stick around. Like everypony else, he wanted to return to the safety of his home—assuming it still stood.

While the two argued, Ray Blitz moved along the far side of the trashed studio. Drawing his cell phone from his vest's pocket, he gave it a few seconds to boot up after turning it off completely to conserve battery in the event of a dire emergency. At the moment, then seemed like the right time than ever to call for help, even though no one had suffered more than a few small cuts and bruises, much to their relief.

A very faint signal did reach the golden pegasus' phone, just enough to where he could make a call and pray it be coherent from both ends. With plenty of battery to last him a few days if he were to only turn it on for a little bit each time, his first decision was to dial Star's number to let him know he was faring just fine, but also to check and make sure he was, too.

Tapping on the number, Ray lifted the phone to his ear, exhaling softly as the dial tone rang in it.


***


Peeking around the destroyed taxi, what first came into my line of sight I wasn't sure I believed to be seeing; a pony two stories tall, clad of brushed steel from hoof to ear with camera lenses for eyeballs. The design of it, while predominantly bare, made it seem as though it wore armor like a royal guard, albeit with shoulder pads of a warrior. 

Each gentle stride it took, while slow in nature compared to a living pony, stomped the ground beneath its hooves and left crack-riddled circular prints in its wake. Upon reaching the intersection, it halted in center, slowly and rather terrifyingly turning its head to scan the area, prompting those of us observing to duck completely into hiding to avoid it detecting us.

When it looked the other way, I said lowly, blinking in a bit of surprise. "One of GenTech's security drones. It... looks just like a pony."

"A big ass pony," commented Zjitzo's sergeant, observing from cover behind a dumpster and studying every little motion it made.

Evidently the drone's very presence was enough to bring a few of the hiding civilians out of hiding. With calls for help, a small group of four or five ponies, some still in their tattered work clothes, emerged from different places in the surrounding destruction, gathering before the massive droid. Each of them looked relieved to have help finally arrive. However, the suspicious narrowing of Zjitzo's eyes on it instructed to not make a move.

Something felt terribly off here. Not the fact that a fully-automated robotic pony stood mere yards from us, despite how strange that idea was in all reality, but... something. Zjitzo and I shared premonition without as much as glancing in each other's general direction; a hunch, so to speak. Armet could not be trusted, and there was plenty reason to believe his drones could potentially pose a threat, too.

Not a minute passed when the ponies jumping for joy ceased their cheering. Rather, they became displeased with the robot's lack of action. One went as far as throwing a stone at it and walking away in disappointment. It might have just been coincidental, but that seemed to trigger something new.

On its forehead, precisely where a horn would sit atop a unicorn, an armor panel slid open and up rose a coil of sorts wrapped around a three-foot steel cylinder, capped with a platinum sphere that the coils melded with. From a distance, the strange extension as it lit up in a tone of electric blue looked like a contraption straight out of a science laboratory that you would see in an old monster horror film. Perhaps that is why its sudden appearance raised anxious tension among myself, Zjitzo, and his crew.

Then, suddenly, the six of us each watched in our own state of horror as thick bolts of lightning-like energy attached to the horns of all three unicorns gathered in the droid's shadow, instantly bringing them to their knees as the beam began to painfully extract the magic from their very essences. It did so in the form of semi-opaque, sparkling clouds in the colors of their individual auras that transferred up the beams. 

Bloodcurdling screams emit from those poor ponies while the other two tore ass in different directions. It seemed as though it was only after the unicorns. To stand by and watch from afar was harrowing enough as it is, and their unpony-like wails already rang through my mind repeatedly, even as they continued in real time.

When the process finished, three forms simultaneously fell limp, their coats completely lackluster. A trio of lifeless bodies lay beside one another at the drone's titanium hooves, their very existences wiped clean from their shells in a matter of seconds while we powerlessly observed.

As the coil retracted, loud pops of a gun firing resounded off nearby buildings, amplifying it and causing confusion as to where it originated. However, the source wasn't hard to discern, and the six of us took quick notice of a Manehattan Police officer with his firearm drawn, unloading round after round on the sturdy drone from behind with no effect. After ten equally-spaced shots, his magazine ran empty, signaled by his pistol's hammer permanently opening.

Fear struck the earth pony officer, freezing him in place as the drone swiveled completely around, setting its cold, calculating sights directly on him. He took no more than two steps backward before a small cannon-like arm extended from behind its shoulder, adjusting just slightly to take aim. A thin, blue concentrated beam shot from the barrel, striking the stallion in the chest with a zap that would forever haunt me. 

Within a millisecond of the heated energy making contact, far too quick for him to scream out in torment, every inch of the officer's form and his clothing vaporized into a puff of grey smoke that dispersed in the gentle breeze, as if his body consisted solely of dust. Four more innocents lost at the will of GenTech in the blink of an eye, four more murdered by Armet Mace's wrath. Four more lives to avenge out of presumably thousands.

In that instance, it's safe to say virtually every one of us began contemplating possibilities to take it down in our own respective manner. Managing to do so would most definitely be tough, especially with the thick plating shell encasing that thing all over. Simple grenades wouldn't do. C4? Perhaps. Copperheads? Definitely. I hope. Where we would get our hooves or claws on some was beyond me. Besides, if its scarily-accurate death beams don't kill us first, there are countless other ways it could. 

Being crushed like a bug seemed most probable, assuming it can move quick enough. Considering it was a GenTech machine, however, impossible agility wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. Frankly, I shouldn't let anything shock me anymore. It is only 2015, and their slogan could not have been more spot on right now.

As I sat in thorough contemplation, thinking of our next move to be suggested to the griffon in charge, I jumped at a sudden, loud electronic ringing, originating from a small pocket in my jumpsuit vest. 

Reaching in, I drew my phone and hastily attempted to turn it off without taking a moment to realize just who was trying to make contact. The cover-blowing sound when it first began startled everyone else in hiding as well, their attention fixating on me solely as my frantic efforts to shut the little device down repeatedly failed.

"Damn it, turn that fucking thing off!" said Zjitzo in a stage whisper, checking past his cover.

In the spurt of the moment, I didn't think quick enough and yelled in my persistent struggle, "I-it won't...!"

Without a second more of hesitating, Zjitzo snatched the wailing phone from my hoof and strongly threw it to the ground with a plastic smack, before shooting off two suppressed rounds into the center of the screen. At that, it was silenced at last.

Reaching out to my phone, I stopped halfway when an invisible force pulled me back behind cover. Ears drooping, I watched with a persisting ache in my chest as Ray's warm, calming smile; the only picture I had of him, the one selected to fill the screen at every call he makes to me, flickered and glitched, only to later fade out to black for the last time. It was the single thing I had left to keep in line, now no longer accessible.

A hoof clenched against the roof of the overturned carriage as a newfound rage swelled through me. The griffon captain wasn't the focus of my sudden anger, rather it directed toward the drone, at GenTech, at Armet Mace. Hundreds wouldn't have perished and thousands more injured or homeless if it weren't for him. Now I have had enough.

Something sparked within me. Perhaps it was the fuse of the time bomb that was my dwindling sanity. Whatever it was, almost like a second psyche, it disregarded all else and took total control, and out of pure, long-contained resent, I charged the droid. I don't recall ever moving quite as fast as I did, nor was I trained to back in boot camp. This was something entirely new. Like a bolt of lightning, or more realistically, a bullet shot from a gun, reaching the oblivious mechanized being took no more than a couple of seconds, too quick for even its own reaction time. Winding back my stronger forehoof in preparation, upon pulling up short of my target, I thrust my arm forward with all capable mustered strength.

At the moment of impact, my hoof striking the plating of its leg made a deep, metallic clang, a sign of just how thick the titanium alloys protecting its telemetry was. Pain coursed up the length of my arm, and I grabbed it in sudden agony. Never had I taken a moment to consider something as basic as punching a robot would result in this much pain. And yet it continued to stand there, unphased like a statue, albeit of mobile steel construction. To it, my hoof was nothing more a fly harmlessly bouncing off a lightbulb. Glancing up slowly, my heart utterly stopped as it gazed right back down at me with red-glowing, calculating eyes.

Subconsciously, I slowly withdrew from the giant forehoof with a faint limp in my step upon realization of my terrible mistake. Its sights followed my every movement. More like, it refused to break direct eye contact. It took me straight back to basic, when our instructor would cut through our souls like butter with a mere stare. No, this was much worse. This was true evil.

"Star, get the fuck back!" yelled Zjitzo, breaking the trance that was nothing but fear. My ear swiveled to the pulling of a grenade's pin, and I made a beeline back to them as a harmony of gunfire erupted. At this point, our cover was well blown.

Out of the corner of my eye, a small, black object flew over my head, landing short of the drone's hoof with two bounces. It ticked in the final seconds, before detonating in a shower of dirt that ultimately dealt no damage to the enemy. The multitude of bullets striking its steel plating simply deflected or completely vaporized without so much as scratching the surface, a sign of defense-type enchantment prior to construction.

If the bastard wasn't hostile to us before, it certainly was now. On its back as it turned toward us, the laser took aim for the dumpster—and Zjitzo's sergeant. He screeched in surprise with his head peeked around, rising to his feet hurriedly to get clear. The bright blue beam whisked in dangerous proximity between us, its immense temperature radiating off our faces like an oven. Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough. It came in contact with the grey and white griffon's shoulder before he took one step forward, instantly turning him to vapors.

Popping off his head, the sergeant's heat-scarred helmet spun three times in the air before coming to rest near a horrified Zjitzo, among with three perfectly preserved feathers floating down. Half of the remains of a unit patch belonging to the former griffon now lay on the cement, a flicker of fire gradually burning away at the fabric.

For a lengthy seven seconds, the griffon captain stared at the tiny remains of his squad mate and second-up in utter disbelief. Zjitzo bellowed an ear-piercing, eagle-like screech in combined grief and anger, before he began vengefully unloading a full magazine upon the slowly-approaching drone.

Outcome unaltered, his rounds ricocheted off the droid's armor, prompting it to set its sights on him as its next target when he became the only engaging being on the street.

"Captain!" his specialist shouted warningly, reloading and cocking her Excalibur with an extended mag in the shape of a dual barrel for extra ammo capacity. She, too, opened fire to draw its attention away from the captain.

Because the specialist's weapon was not suppressed, its booming shots drowned Zjitzo's in the robot's sensors. Setting its sights on her, its gun instantly recharged, flowing bluish light up its barrel and gathering near the muzzle. She swiftly dove out of the way in the nick of time, just as the firing laser struck her cover of a building's corner.

The stone wall turned molten instantly as it was hit, leaving a gaping hole edged with red-hot rock that dripped like water off an overhang. Melting through, the beam came in direct contact with a pipe that ignited the gas within, and exploded moments later. Its force threw me out in the open, as well as most of Zjitzo's squad mates. The very moment I regained my senses was the second it hit me that the drone's blaster had re-calibrated its aim in my direction, now that I was vulnerable. To my immediate left, a detached carriage door lying flat on the ground was the only thing I lunged for out of reflex, holding it up between myself and the oncoming death beam while hoping for the best.

Before it even fired, the warmth met my skin. My hooves along the edges of the door sizzled from the searing temperatures, which I expected to penetrate at any given time. As much pain as it caused to continuously hold it between me, I recognized that should I drop this door, it would instantly kill me. Nonetheless, my struggles maintained ground against the laser's pressing weight, fighting to knock me back.

What I didn't see through closed eyes, however, was what resulted when I adjusted the metal door at a slight angle. Like a mirror reflecting light, the beam refracted back toward its origin, blasting effortlessly through the drone's chest. Evidently this was where its energy source sat, as the laser ceased seconds after. The chain reaction of the blow to its core triggered a contained detonation that sent bits and pieces flying every which way, shattering any remaining glass for two blocks.

At last, the ordeal was over. It was dead. Tossing the carriage door aside with a heavy breath, glancing at the circular scorch mark where a dent-like depression in the surface caused by the immense heat remained. While ultimately thankful for its convenience, it served as a grave reminder of how close to certain death I came.

"How the hell did it not melt through that?" questioned Zjitzo in absolute shock, hurrying up to me. He and I were equally stumped.

I peered back at the door, then to the overturned carriage it belonged to. "The paint, I guess," was all I could come up with, my adrenaline still spiking.

The griffon offered out a talon, which I took with grace, and with a single tug of my hoof that would be gentle to him, it had me back on all fours. With a thanking nod, my hoof dusted down the front of my vest. While doing so, having no use for it anymore, I finally took the time to remove the parachute harness still tightened around my chest.

Before any of us had the opportunity to celebrate in our trifling victory, however, a new sound from afar nabbed my left ear's attention, causing me to look up alertly.

"You hear that?" I panted lowly, stopping in what I was doing to better listen out.

At that, our attention turned elsewhere. What had to be tens more of drones alike the one in a fiery pile of wreckage marched down a distant street, passing by without taking notice of us. The sight itself made my blood run cold yet again upon realizing just how many there were. Far too many for us to take on alone. Hell, we had just narrowly defeated this one.

Lowering the goggle attachment over one eye and enhancing the lens, Zjitzo observed the passing army from where we stood with ease. "We need to move before they break off and come our way."

"Yeah, surely GenTech knows already. They'll have those things wired to hell for close monitoring." Frantically, I began scanning our surroundings. My search for shelter halted upon spotting a large sand-colored stone building one block due south. "There! The Museum of Equestrian History!"

"Oscar Mike!" signaled Zjitzo, waving his talon with two fingers together in the direction of the museum. Taking the lead, he hastily started toward the complex, long vacated of any tourists.

Tailing closely, the remaining five of us formed a tight circle, putting me between four griffons of differentiating sizes and specialties. Without a weapon to myself, it was their decision to act as a protective meat shield in case of more trouble.


***


An alarm rang out across the control center, with an alert window appearing in bright red across only two consoles in the entire room. Tension among the troops present rose, even after the sound ceased at the push of a button.

The maroon unicorn seated at his circular center display sat up out of his chair in surprise, reading off the information that flowed across his holographic screen. "Flawless! What happened?!" shouted a furious Armet Mace.

At the stallion's abrupt yelling, his trusted right-hoof, Flawless Rivet, galloped down the shallow staircase to his commander's station at the bottom of the room. He began to address with notable angst to his demeanor. "A-Armet, sir. Indicators read that Drone M4-67B has gone offline."

"Diagnosis?" questioned Armet with a softer tone, taking a long, slow sip of yet another cup of coffee.

The slightly-smaller earth pony began reading off data from a holographic tablet in his left hoof, responding mere seconds later. "De-destroyed, sir."

Armet lurched, cheeks puffing for no more than a split second before the warm contents in his mouth spat sideways in a shower of brown that slicked the previously pristinely-polished tiling. "What?!" his voice echoed off the walls, chair spinning remotely to furiously face his second-up.

Flawless instinctively drew back a couple of steps, shrinking his head into his neck slightly with the tablet held close to his light blue uniform. Before his boss, he displayed fear, pinning his ears to his skull. The incident was far from his fault, though he knew the commander would treat it as though it were.

Without giving the poor pony a chance to come up with a response, Armet leaned sideways to rub his pounding forehead gently, closing his eyes. "Do we have its eye cam to examine?"

"I—y-yes, sir, we do! I-I have it right here!" replied Flawless, glancing down at his device and motioning his hoof in multiple alternating motions across the glass screen. With a final tap, his sights lifted to the large display in front of them.

On it, the rollback footage of one of GenTech's collector droids began playing the final five minutes of its life. However, something most unexpected snatched the maroon unicorn's immediate attention. For the second time in just a few hours, Armet's bright blue eyes went wide with disbelief. This time, it wasn't out of astonishment.

Muscles tensing, he clenched his teeth lividly, voice sweeping across the control room with significant volume. "How is he still alive?!"

Darting his gaze from the screen to Armet, Flawless gave a questionable look. "Who is that, sir? Sh-should we be concerned about him?"

Easing back into his chair, Armet blinked slowly in a muse. After a prolonged, trepidatious silence, a malicious grin pursed his lips, disregarding either of his right-hoof's queries. Quietly, but enough for Flawless to pick up on, he muttered, "I know what'll kill you..."


***


Only flashlight attachments guided our way through the Museum of Equestrian History, with the exception of one or two emergency lights thinly scattered about the central space just beyond the entrance. A fine layer of dust coated the skylights above, shrouding darkness where the only source of natural light would typically shine in. Hanging pieces such as a 17th-century glider gently swayed in a lingering motion left over from the second tremor, the cables suspending them above the floor creaking eerily throughout the main hall.

Minor exhibits sporting timeless items such as paintings, cracked vases, and other artifacts from countless points in Equestria's early ages either scattered across the floor, tipped over against their glass containers, or sat crookedly on their wall hangers. For the most part, this place seemed unscathed by the quake. I suppose the architects did keep seismic activity in mind, or a kind of enchantment protected the entire building from damage. It would explain the minor cracks and chips in the stone that the structure primarily consisted of.

Somewhere around here was one of many emergency exits placed in key locations, where we would be forced to venture out in the open once more. Thankfully this provided a brief opportunity to scout out food from the cafeteria and a small collection of vending machines along the south wall of the main corridor, which spanned upward two stories with balconies from the second floor overlooking.

For as long as I have been stationed in Manehattan, it still came off as mildly surprising to have never formally visited this place, reminiscing over my passion for history back in middle and high school. Such a shame my first impression had to be under poor circumstances, though my concerns for the museum's integrity could only be short-lived.

Scouring a portion of the first floor was most prominent ahead of a moment to rest. While Zjitzo and his crew split up to investigate the place, my new temporary objective became to gather up water to refill our canteens and grab anything I could find to eat that hadn't spoiled from just over a day of no electricity.

A few of the refrigerators still worked somehow, likely backup generators in the basement if there was one, and in them sat cooled lunches such as sandwiches and salads, as well as an assortment of drinks ranging from bottles of water and juices to canned teas and pop, plus whatever I could get from prying open a machine fully stocked with candy bars, bags of chips, and peanut butter crackers.

And damn, was I hungry. Nothing but a crumby beef stew MRE for sustenance the night prior, one I hadn't the steel to finish off. Not even close. What a waste of a perfectly good MRE that could have gone to somepony who needed it more. Actually, no, they might not have eaten it either. Who even likes that shit?! At least now there is an abundance of real food to keep me going.

When all was clear, the four returned to the cafeteria where I waited, hunkered behind the cashier counter in case any unwanted guests arrived. There, we ate in silence, resting our muscles ahead of another long, uneasy journey to safety to work out a plan to fight back.

For me, being in the presence of griffons in a moment of peace felt... odd. Perhaps it was simply personal bias after dreadful past encounters of the type. These ones, however, proved their loyalty after not one, but two brief scuffles. They are here with a mutual goal, and their devotion for justice earned my respect, but additionally restored some of my faith in the griffon race. Hell, it's disappointing to have not properly befriended these featherbrains yet. Assuming we all make it through this in one piece, it would be interesting to come to know them just a bit more.

Between bites to eat, the four checked over their gear before we would have to keep moving. Having spent plenty of their ammunition already, that told us we would not last more than a few minutes should we encounter another droid so soon. Then here I was, feeling utterly useless among them. No rifle, no sidearm, not even a damn knife if we're lucky enough to stumble across an enemy that wasn't born on an assembly line.

My teeth sunk into the soft bread of a cold cheese and lettuce sandwich; a meal I would not even consider eating on any regular day. Simple foods never tasted so great, that is until you go some time without consuming something remotely healthy, or anything at all. And while I wasn't peckish to the point of starvation, it gratified the persistent rumbling in my stomach, returning at least some of the energy drained by adrenaline countless times in the past thirty-six hours.

As the contents chewed to a fine mush in my gape, the shattering of glass originating from beyond the cafeteria, inside the museum's main historical exhibit further down froze me abruptly in the act. The others caught on to the noise, exchanging glances and instinctively grabbing their weapons. The food unexpectedly slipping down my throat as a result of sitting still without thoroughly swallowing could have given our hiding away when it caused me to choke on it briefly, prompting me to take long gulps of water. This, miraculously, prevented too much noise.

Gesturing to me silently, ordering I stay put, Zjitzo slowly and quietly picked up his rifle and stood, minding his movements as he cautiously looped around the counter in a lookout. His acts were mutely mirrored by his corporal, then the specialist, leaving me alone with a watchful private first class, who repositioned himself to monitor the staff passageway at the counter's far edge. It was the only way someone or something could check behind without leaping up on top to peek over.

The two of us jolted when the sound of something heavy smacking into clothed flesh, accompanied by the deep, pained grunt of the griffon captain before the whole of his weight was tossed into a nearby wall, soon followed by similar guttural discharges caused by a blow of equivalent strength dealt to his corporal and specialist simultaneously.

Heart racing, I scanned my surroundings while remaining ducked below the counter surface so as to avoid being detected by whatever was here with us, trying to listen out for steps of any particular type approaching our position.

"Wait here," whispered the coal-feathered private first class, crawling in upright-prone position to peek around the corner. This merely worsened the tingling, churning feeling in my gut, locking the muscles in my lower half that essentially restrained my efforts to reach out and hold him back in case something else were to happen.

This was fear I had not seen before, although it did come off as somewhat familiar in an indistinct manner. It felt as if I have been here, in this exact place, like this situation has happened already. Nothing I pondered added up, explicitly in my present frantic state of mind.

I only jerked from a contemplative trance when the last griffon yelped out and he shot off three blind rounds across the hall, before a heavy thump of his body and the rustling of his gear upon landing on the floor.

Now I was in deep shit. The others had dropped like flies, at least from what the sounds of their formidable defeat told my ears and mind. Severely lacking a mean of self-defense, it dawned alarmingly on me that staying put would end poorly, but so would attempting to flee more than likely. In spite of my thoughts to make a mad dash for the nearest exit, I couldn't leave them. Ultimately, they did save my life, and while I had almost instantly and unintentionally repaid that debt, it would be completely insolent to abandon them now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, my mind prepared itself to make a move. Before the chance came and my body had time to respond, an arm smashed straight through the entire counter, sending splinters and wooden chunks flying. It took hold of my side, bringing out a cry of surprise as it yanked me straight through, widening the hole created when the limb broke through.

I flew, and not in a preferable fashion. As soon as my body was pulled directly through the checkout bar, the arm released its grip, tossing me with great strength through a glass pane along the edge of the cafeteria, showering the floor of the main hall with chips of glass that exploded out with my momentum, before I came down in the center of the atrium and rolled thrice with a stupefied grunt.

I landed upright, hooves splayed out on my sides, in a total daze. My chest heaved with quickened breaths that I drew in through an opened maw, staring straight upward at the darkened, dirt-coated skylight. There were only a few seconds when I rolled upright, groaning in effort as my quaking forehooves gradually lifted my weight off the large-tile flooring. The first thing my sights landed upon was a barely-conscious Zjitzo, his weapon lying some five feet from an outreached talon and him breathing laboriously, but utterly motionless on his side with an indentation in the wooden wall above where he lay. One fleeting glance around discovered the other three griffons suffering similar fates, strewn about the atrium in varying places.

Then, my attention turned to the threat. Silhouetted by an emergency light within the cafeteria, a tall, looming figure steadily approached. The scarier part of it all was its eyes, gleaming with sinister intent in the shadows like a demonic being of sorts. But it wasn't just the glowing of its cores that stood out the most, it was their color that struck as most staggering.

"Arc...!" I gasped out tersely, having the breath taken completely away at the sight. Before the realization had even hit me, I subconsciously backstepped until my muscles tightened to the point of halting short of a wall. At that precise moment in time, one that seemed to carry on for minutes, my thought process ran blank in a nervous form of disbelief as my gaze swept thoroughly over the futuristic ensemble of obsidian-colored plated armor clad to a rubber or latex undersuit of sorts. "Oh my... God... Y-you...?!"

This explained his longer-than-anticipated absence from base. He hadn't taken this much time to recover from his bloody onslaught, even after his sentence's supposed end date. Now it was apparent that he was involuntarily selected for Armet's super-soldier program, which provoked my next thought; just how many more like him were there?

"This isn't you..." I uttered through a labored breath, clenching my teeth and lowering my posture into a ground-defending stance. There was no running now, knowing he would catch me no matter my fastest sprint, or what I might throw his way in my escape.

For five prolonged, uneasy seconds, the stallion's glaring, amethyst gaze sliced through my essence like a hotknife through a stick of butter. His lack of action convinced me he was still partially himself, or that I had gotten through to him like our previous encounter of the type. That notion startlingly changed when the larger pony lunged forward, snapping his limb to my neck and effortlessly lifting my hooves off the fractured floor.

My eyes widened fearfully, grasping Arc's choking arm with both of my forehooves in a meager effort to pry it away. None of my mustered strength made any sort of progress, rather his grip on my throat tightened as he started to partially wrap his hoof around like a slithery boa and begin to constrict.

It wasn't long before he cut off all air circulation, even going the lengths to push against my gut and force the remaining air from my lungs, causing me to squirm and thrash in his hold. The stronger I pushed at his armor-clad hoof, the tighter he squeezed, and the weaker I gradually became the longer oxygen failed to clear my throat and narrowly clung to life. Slowly, my own choking struggle grew more muffled to the pounding of my heart in my ears as the seconds ticked by, and everything incrementally turned darker as asphyxiation drew nearer.

With the fight against time and Arc's hold rapidly losing in his favor, my grasp fell limp as I eventually settled with submitting to his will, and the advancing horizon of death. I shut my lids in defeat, letting my eyes begin to roll back and wait the rest out.

All of a sudden, a tenuous electric shock coursed through my nerves, conducted by Arc's suit that left him physically numb in electrocution. I opened my eyes just in time for his grip to release, dropping me to the floor with a thud. Twisted halfway on my side, I narrowly propped myself up off the floor, hacking up a lung and heavily gasping to draw air into my deprived lungs. Between inhales, my throat burned with each cough that threatened to burst a blood vessel.

As life abruptly returned to my form, my gaze snapped up to see Arc Nobis struggling to keep himself upright. Along his barrel, clinging to the armor plates like a parasite, a white luminescent bullet administered a steady amount of energy to stun him. He continuously groaned in evident pain, before slumping over with his teeth grit and body vigorously shaking, even after the shock had ceased.

"Got you, you son of a bitch!" uttered Zjitzo's specialist, removing a magazine with a white paint streak along the bottom and swiftly replacing it with a regular ammo clip, approaching the downed earth pony with caution in every step.

"Star Shooter!" called Zjitzo, rushing up to and aiding me onto my hooves. "Are you alright?"

I rubbed a hoof gently along my throat, where a reddish mark faintly lingered above the helmet clip of my jump vest's collar, with a long bruise forming in center. "Y-yeah, I'm fine..." I rejoined, voice raspy, compelling me to clear my throat and swallow spit to quell the burn in it, which frankly didn't do much. "I-I almost wasn't."

"Ugh..." emit a grouse from behind Zjitzo. Our attention snapped to Arc, whose rubberized stomach rose and fell gently to his stable breaths while laying on his side, slowly moving his forehoof and lifting his head. The first thing his sights set on was my own. "Corporal...?" he mumbled, blinking in mild bewilderment.

My breath caught, noting of his address, and the lack of incandescence in his eyes. It was him again. Or so I assumed it to be. "Second Lieutenant?"

Groaning in apparent soreness caused by the electrocution, the black-plated grey earth stallion began to weakly push himself upright as his strength gradually returned. "Where in the hell—"

Just before he could prop up his hinds, his face met with the barrel of Zjitzo's rifle. On either side of the griffon captain stood his corporal and specialist, with the private first class pushing himself up off the floor with my help.

"Don't move," lowly ordered Zjitzo, glaring behind his golden visor.

Letting off an incoherent grumble, the second lieutenant stayed down, going as far as raising his hooves in a show of surrender. "I am not going to attack you."

"Then why did you?!" screeched Zjitzo's corporal, threateningly jolting his gun at Nobis.

"I was not in control of my own mind. If you would give me time, I will gladly elaborate!" glared Arc, directed at the corporal.

I pulled up along Zjitzo's side, between him and the specialist, resting a hoof on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at me.

"Let him talk. It's only fair I did the same for you, Captain," I remarked.

The taller griffon stared quietly for a couple of seconds, then lowered his rifle. With a single claw gesture, so did his squad mates. "All right. Go ahead."

I glanced to Arc. "What ship are you stationed to?"

"The Eclipse," he answered, almost immediately after the words left my mouth.

"What year did you first meet Shadow?"

"April of 2009. By that time, he was a lieutenant commander in the Equestria Navy. This was before the end of Luna's banishment."

At that, I nodded. Even I didn't know the full answer to the question, yet he did. To me, that was good enough verification. I glanced at Zjitzo, giving a knowing look that he silently responded to with a tip of his chin.

"Just like that, we're meant to trust him?" growled Zjitzo's specialist in premonition, only to immediately garner a fleeting glare from her superior that sternly instructed to stay quiet.

Climbing to all fours, choosing to ignore the young female griffon's comment, Arc Nobis' steady gaze shifted to each of us. "I was kidnapped, tortured into submission. He used me as his assassin with no rhyme or reason as to why."

"Armet Mace?" Zjitzo's eyes narrowed.

The second lieutenant nodded once in confirmation. 

"Yes. This armor is built to control an entire pony. Not just manipulate their every movement, but replace an entire mental conscience with one designed on a computer. When he did it to me, it was the worst pain imaginable, yet... I felt nothing?"

Zjitzo's head cocked left suspiciously. "Is this you, or is it the computer talking?" 

"I... can't be for sure. It's me, I think? But I feel... different. Like I am connected to something much larger than my own existence," said Nobis in evident mutual confusion. Even the way he spoke struck as odd.

"So..." my gaze fell to the floor in contemplation, lifting a hoof. "The shooter at the summit meeting, was that you or somepony else?"

Arc softly grunted at that. "I want to say yes, it was me, though the true answer is beyond my knowledge. I couldn't see, hear, or feel, only... be. I felt like I was watching somepony play a video game, except... it was myself, and this thing he swapped me with was the player."

"What can you remember?" Zjitzo queried, eyebrow raising. His stance alone still showed signs of moderate apprehension.

"Not a lot. I know some bad shit has gone down the last few weeks." His amethyst gaze scanned our surroundings. "Really bad shit, now that I see."

"There is more than what meets the eye, er..." Zjitzo paused to remember his name from when I mentioned it. "...Arc."

"I am aware," nodded Nobis. "In my dormancy I spent time cracking files in the GenTech mainframe, reading all of their plans in every phase. That was, until Armet dangled me over a digital recycling bin and threatened to erase me forever."

My head cocked sideways. "Why didn't he? What stopped him? He knows having your conscience still around might cause problems, or even bite back at him."

Arc shook his head. "That is beyond me. But what I did uncover was his plans to seek out the power of every unicorn in the city and drain them of it with the use of—"

"Drones," Zjitzo interrupted, nodding. "We know."

I spoke up after him. "We were forced to sit by and watch as it sucked the life out of three, then blast a police officer to smithereens."

Zjitzo's beak clenched, his body growing discernibly tense. "And my sergeant..."

"So we are at phase two, then," Arc alleged, putting a hoof to his forehead. "This is great."

"Phase two? What are the phases?" I questioned, blinking.

"Phase one was a series of earthquakes to cripple infrastructure and distract the military and emergency services from the real threat, which is phase two. Phase three..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry, I couldn't break the code in time. I would have to exchange my mind for my programmed counterpart in order to retrieve that intel, and that isn't guaranteed to work."

"That is quite alright," said Zjitzo, relaxing himself at last. "You found what you could. Unfortunately this was information we could have used hours ago, but that isn't your fault."

His response came off somewhat unexpected, turning Zjitzo's squad mates' eyes his way. It shocked perhaps all of us when he extended his right talon as a gesture of trust, one that Arc Nobis took with firm grace.

"It isn't often that I say this, but... thank you," Arc said neutrally, steadying his gaze with the griffon's. "Everypony's trust for me was broken five months ago. They are all scared of me now. It is... relieving, to say the least, that someone still holds faith in me as a pony."

Zjitzo tipped his chin in reply. I took a step closer, speaking up. "If it assures you any, Second Lieutenant, I never lost faith in you. I understand your troubles. That doesn't make you any less of a stallion than I know you are, or invalidate your title of a Marine officer."

For a second, it appeared as though he might actually smile. The slightest twitch in his face muscles surrounding his mouth convinced me he would, but the flat expression he wore held strong. Arc gave a nod of gratitude. "Even after our last two direct encounters, you show respect. I appreciate that, Corporal."

Before a single word more could be spoken, the muffled, nearby pops of rapid gunfire echoed around, with the large scale of the museum making it difficult to discern the general direction of the racket's source. Swiveling my ear, it seemed to be coming from all around.

Glancing between us, Zjitzo raised his rifle skyward. "That sounds awfully close by. We should get moving while we have a window," he advocated, one notion we could all equally agree on.

"The scanners in my helmet tell me in the north wing is a transit stop that has been undergoing renovations since June. The tunnels connecting to the subway lines under the city should take you across the river, if that is where you are headed."

Zjitzo's steady gaze transferred to his corporal, then back. "All right. Subway tunnels it is."

Nodding in acknowledgement, we tailed the captain deeper into the museum as he started down the main hall. 

I didn't make more than a couple yards when I checked over my shoulder, seeing the second lieutenant waiting there, watching us go. I skidded to a halt, my hooves squeaking along the tile in a manner that screeched throughout the entire building, prompting the others ahead to stop and see why I had turned back.

Slowly, I returned to Arc, pulling up a few feet short of him with a brow slightly raised and a faint look of worry on my face. "Aren't you coming with us?"

In reluctant response, the grey stallion shook his head. "Negative. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you five. You temporarily disabling the artificial conscience that replaced my own won't go unnoticed by Armet. It's just a matter of time before he initiates the re-upload command and I turn against all of you again."

I cocked my head in slight concern. "So what is it you're planning to do, then? Just sit here and wait it all out? We'll need your help out there!"

"I will turn myself in, order they put me in solitary until this is over. For as long as this helmet sits on my head, wired to my brain, I am a serious threat to you and others."

My ears lost their perk, noting the gentle hurt in the stallion's tone, something he absolutely never showed. For a time, the two of us stared in silence, while the others observed from afar. "Arc, we'll get you out of this. I promise you, we will."

"Don't make promises you cannot keep, Corporal," he sternly rejoined, reverting to his cold self—before his upgrade, that is. "I trust you will see this battle's end, but do not focus on saving me. I am unimportant; a pawn, if you will. I'm merely a piece in Armet Mace's game of chess. Only difference is, he can afford to lose me."

Arc's posture stiffened, standing tall like the officer he was and fixating solely on me. "Should the time call for it, I want you to have no hesitation in terminating me."

My cores widened, taken aback by his somewhat robotic-like instructions. "Second Lieutenant, I—"

"That is an order!" he cut in, raising his voice over mine, echoing throughout the hall.

I recoiled, though barely, wincing in direct reaction. After a couple of moments, I returned an affirming nod, ears drooping back. "Yes, sir."

Retaining his pose, Arc returned a gentle bob of his head. Without another word spoken, and much hesitation in my movements, I turned away and started back toward a patiently-waiting Zjitzo and his crew.

It went against Marine code of conduct to leave someone behind, no matter that soul's protests. Typically it went in the direction of self-sacrifice which, knowing the second lieutenant's unpredictability, might have been the larger truth masked beneath a smaller cover to force me to believe otherwise. Without taking a second to question it, however, we proceeded on, and it left a churning, irritable feeling deep in my gut delving into that pitch-black metro station.


***


A constant symphony of bullets and energized shots whisked above ducking heads as absolute discord erupted across Midtown. Over the course of a half hour, three city blocks worth of ground had been lost to the advancing enemy. Terrified civilians scattered every which way they could run to get away from the steel-clad army marching down the streets, engaging upon all within sight with intermittent shots from rifles never before seen by even the developers of military weaponry were they present to witness.

Two separate lines of infantry set up blockades to defend, creating invisible lines to hold until more help arrives. In spite of desperate pleas over numerous communications channels, each call out was returned with one of equivalent request, as corresponding attacks were taking place all over the island, effectively trapping frightened innocents with nowhere left to run. Overwhelmed and outnumbered, casualties left and right were climbing rapidly with little progress made in retaliatory attacks.

On top of that, reports flooded in by the bundle of drones standing as tall as three stories in some cases grabbing ponies—particularly unicorns—in masses. It wasn't limited to citizens, either. One call went out describing an entire unit wiped out simultaneously by some sort of tractor beam that traps a pony in place and sucks every last ounce of magic from their bodies.

Swiftly loading a fresh magazine into an M16 after diving behind cover with a black ballistic helmet strapped atop his crown, cocking the rifle, Anchorage snapped his head to one of his fellow combatants. "What's the sitrep?!" he yelled over the roar of fire.

"Multiple hostiles closing in on our location! These motherfuckers are eating bullets like there's no tomorrow!" shouted Ashfall at his side, eyeballing every one of his shots with an M249 with belts feeding into the chamber in a firm grasp in both hooves. He recoiled once or twice in immediate reaction to sizzling, bluish beams impacting their cover, leaving blackened scorch marks in their wake.

"Then you'll need all the firepower you can get!" the sailor rejoined, raising over the chipped concrete barrier and posting up on top for a steady aim. In curt bursts of three rounds, he engaged upon the approaching line of mechanized ponies in supporting fire. 

These mysterious figures didn't seem one hundred-percent robotic, judging by their unique behavior and lack of consistent aim as compared to what one would expect out of a machine. What they did quickly discern was their abnormal agility and speed for non-pegasus ponies.

More so, each aggressor that did finally succumb to a mass amount of bullets, two more immediately took its place, leading to an increase in frustration among defenders trying to keep them from reaching more civilians. Every so often, one or two more sparked at the source of some shots before giving out, and after their collapse, the metallic army simply walked over their bodies as they grew ever so closer to the line of Marines and police officers.

Some of the fighting unicorns, even without weapons, joined in on the fight. What combat-related magic they understood was put to immediate use, including the simplest of spells, such as ones that easily tore metal apart. However, the task turned out more difficult than anticipated when counting for the aberrant composition of these cyborgs' rather large amount of armor concealing their internal hardware, and thus severely limited the efficiency of these attacks.

With his own aura, Silver Edge began lobbing crumbled brick clusters fallen from surrounding structures, among other random objects movable by his strength. In the long run, his meager efforts, while they would be far more useful against actual ponies, benefited no prominent significance in the fight, much to his dismay, although the idea of giving up pushed to the rear of his mind.

To most on the defending side of this ongoing battle, the scene unfolding closely resembled something ripped straight out of an Applewood flick; an all-stakes apocalyptic scenario surrounding a waging war between machine and pony, with the latter predictably on the losing side. These machines, tailored to help lives and prevent mass casualty events, were now the cause behind one, leaving varying speculation as to why.

Then, a breakthrough. Weak plating and easy-access removable paneling around the central area of the chest allowed for heavier rounds to pierce the steel easier than elsewhere on their bodies, exposing bright lights within that resulted in miniature implosions that dotted the street like land mines being set off one by one.

"Everyone, aim for their chests! Their chests!" shouted Sergeant Sunset Haze, taking pause in his own engagement to alert his comrades of the discovery.

Once enduring forty to fifty rounds each, now took less than fifteen to puncture and destroy or disable their internal power supplies. In the first minutes following the shift of orders, countless stallion-sized drones littered the cobble with some bursting into flames or destructing in small, yet violent blasts.

At long last, it seemed as though the tides were turning in their favor. Word of the solution spread from the mouths of communications specialists into their transceivers, but the transmissions never cleared the gap. All of a sudden, every radio frequency returned with a deafening screech that forced many to cover their ears. Simultaneously, every advancing droid eerily halted in their tracks and suspended fire, utterly motionless in their individual stances.

Bewildered, the Marine sergeant briefly scanned his wary irides across the thinning herd of enemies when they suddenly froze. Going against personal judgement, he threw up a signaling hoof. "Cease your fire!"

All engagement ceased concurrently. Glances exchanged around while a few fixated on the observant sergeant for orders, others taking this opportunity to reload their weapons on what little ammunition was left to go around.

Another brief screech sounded through radios and comms headsets, startling ponies a second instance. This time, however, a creepy, menacing broadcast followed.

"I don't know why you still try. There is no escaping the inevitable. You might as well lay down your weapons and let me take the reins from here on out."

Snatched from the hoof of a comm officer, the dark-sepia stallion rejoined through the receiver speaker. "Who is this? How are you in our secure network?"

"Oh, Sergeant, nothing is secure anymore. Not in this technological day and age," the voice responded lowly, shadowed by a sinister chuckle.

Sunset grunted at the mention of his rank, despite not recognizing the voice in the slightest. It creeped him out, though not enough to waver his hostile tone. "You must have gone through a whole hell of a lot of trouble just to try and creep us out."

At the twist of a dial, the radio's volume raised to the maximum setting for all around to tune in. "You think this was difficult for me to pull off? Please, this took nothing but my bare hooves, a connection execution console, and my extensive knowledge of code."

"I get it, you're a smart cookie. You took control over essentially every security drone in the city and are using them to assault innocents who have lost enough already. What is it that you want?"

"To test your steel, of course. It's clear enough already that you are incapable of guarding your citizens to say nothing of your negligence to see this coming." The garbled voice then paused for a moment. "Besides, what's there to take over if the drones are of my own creation?"

Revelation swept over the dozens listening as bombshell, all the while Anchorage grunted lowly in response. His tingling hunch had been correct all along, lest he restrained from vocalizing it for the longest time.

The sergeant blinked twice, spending a few moments contemplating a reply in his own state of dumbfound, as well as utter disgust toward the once-admirable stallion's acts. "What point are you trying to prove here?"

"One that should have been manifest months ago." At conclusion, the voice no longer spoke.

Then, a faint jolt shook the street. At first, it appeared as a nearby explosion's shockwave or frayed nerves among those present, until it occurred again. And again. And again once more, increasing with proximity each time.

Lifting a pair of tactical binoculars to his eyeballs, Sunset Haze examined the extensive street. That's when he first saw it in the reflection of a high rise's erratically-shattered glass exterior. His eyes grew wide as saucers in total stupefaction, the hold on his optical instrument steadily faltering as his jaw hung slack.

Every pony huddled against cover lifted their heads, as well as their gazes when shock and awe took to their countenances. From around a corner two and a half blocks south, an unreal and downright petrifying sight came into full view.

Not unlike the cloned beings raiding the street a minute prior, one of gargantuan scale stepped with long, slow strides before halting in center of a further intersection from the blockade, twisting its body right to directly face the collection of Lunar Marines, a few stray sailors, and law enforcement lining concrete barriers, all of whom stared in total disbelief.

"What the hell is that thing?!" one Marine cried, staggering to his hooves after falling back in alarm.

Closely accompanied below the home-sized atrocity, tens more of the smaller clones stormed the block ahead of the parent, which soon doubled its presence with the addition of a second from another adjoining street. They halted in formation, before making space for a pack of six 

These mechs, while not much larger than the ones flooding the street and equaled the overall size of a draft pony, wore juggernaut-like armor, albeit sturdier than any in the whole entire military's arsenal, and were equipped with dual side-attached miniguns each. In addition to their weaponry, laser sights built in center of the eight barrels added to their overall accuracy.

Recoiling a step back, Sunset Haze bellowed one final command while dropping to the ground. "Everypony DOWN!"

At his order, seventeen ponies hit the deck. Soon, a torrent of fire ripped through the street. Thousands upon thousands of rounds fired every half-second rained hell upon the blockade, forcing everypony against what cover there was which, even then, was not of adequate caliber to protect them for very long. 

In a window of twenty seconds, four Marines went down in a spray of ichor that pelted the cheeks and gear of others. Instantaneously, those struck by penetrating minigun bullets were torn to shreds. Agonizing wails rang out by multiple infantryponies and police officers as they took damage, but were ultimately drowned out by the constant roar. 

Amidst the chaos, there was simply too much going on for the few unicorns in the mix to concentrate enough to conjure a protective forcefield, not to mention the lack of strength in them caused by depleting most of their energy stopping a towering tidal wave hours prior. While the time between did grant a window of opportunity to replenish, the process would normally take three to four days to return to full stamina.

A new stream of bullets burst through solid cement, forcing Anchorage to scoot sideways while in a self-defending prone. Had he sat two more inches to the left, and his hind leg would have been turned into swiss cheese in milliseconds.

Heart pounding away at his chest, the greyish-white pegasus held a hoof atop his helmet instinctively, which would do next to nothing should those rounds breach the barrier his side pressed against. The fear of being gunned down frightened him, and this merely tripled at the image of being unrecognizably reduced to traces of bloodied flesh and tiny bits of ossein.

Teeth gritted, Anchorage's pinprick-sized icy cores opened to stare at his Marine companion's face no more than a foot before his own, hoping to hear ideas other than his own that would hopefully get them out of this mess alive and in one piece. "Ash! What the fuck are we gonna do?!"