//------------------------------//
// Death Comes To Canterlot 
// Story: Strange Bedfellows 
// by BRBrony9 
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The sounds of battle hung over Canterlot, a cacophony of noise and violence unleashed, as jets swooped in, tanks rolled through the streets, and a thousand life or death struggles played out below. Above, however, an even greater struggle was underway. No battle for individual survival, this was a fight for the entire city, perhaps the entire planet.

Princess Celestia and her sister continued to batter the Daemon-Lord, Malaranth, with their magic, but the creature proved to be more than equal to the task of defending itself. The royal sisters had constraints that the Daemon did not; a stray shot could strike Canterlot below and cause great casualties among their own forces or their human allies. Malaranth, on the other hand, showed no particular regard for its own troops down below, and was happy to unleash its full power in an attempt to defeat the Princesses. 

'Come, ladies!' Malaranth hissed, its voice clearly audible even over the rolling thunder of the battle below. 'You do not wish to see your entire city destroyed, surely. Why not surrender and spare your citizens the pain and anguish they are surely feeling?'

'We do not surrender, Daemon, to you or to anybody else,' Celestia replied in her booming Royal Canterlot Voice, amplified by magic, letting her words be heard not just by her foe but potentially by many of the ponies fighting below. Morale was an important consideration at times like this, with the great centre of pony culture and society under siege and under threat, just when the situation had seemed to be stable. 'This city is ours, and it will remain ours long after you have been banished back whence you came.'

'Such confidence!' Malaranth chuckled. 'Almost arrogance, some might say. 'Are you sure you will not join me? Just think what power you could obtain if you were to travel the stars. Entire systems would bow before you!'

'Power is not to be obtained at the expense of those who serve under you,' Celestia replied. 'Power is only to be granted by them, in those whom they wish to be their leaders.' She fired off a strong blast of magic, dodged by Malaranth.

'Noble, but foolish, Princess!' the Daemon responded. 'Power is to be grasped wherever possible, seized no matter how much it hurts you or others. Why? It is simple. Someone must be in control, no? Ultimately, decisions have to be made, and it might as well be you that makes them, to shape reality to your will. You have a strong will, Princess. Strong, but misguided. You rule to help your citizens, but you should be ruling to help yourself! A creature of such power should not be beholden to the whims and needs of such...lesser beings!'

'I may be the head of state, but in truth, I am the least of my citizens,' Celestia replied angrily. 'Everything I do is to protect them all. I act to their benefit because I care about them and they depend upon me. Responsibility, Daemon, something you and your kind clearly fail to understand. Perhaps if you had seen your species subjugated by a creature not unlike yourself for many years, then you would understand why I feel such a desire to be their protector.'

'Ah, yes, Discord, hm?' Malaranth spun its staff and a huge column of crackling warp energy blasted out from its tip. Celestia teleported away, as did Luna, and the blast raced away into the distance, slamming into a rocky outcrop far from the city and exploding, sending stone and earth tumbling down into the valley. 'Yet despite his actions, you were willing to forgive him, at least to an extent. You were even willing to forgive your sister. Despite your power, Princess, perhaps you are too weak to join us. Such a trait as mercy is not unknown to us, but it is most certainly not to be applied universally, to every foe you face.'

'Fear not, Daemon,' Celestia spat. 'I shall not apply it to you.'

She teleported behind Malaranth, and instead of attacking the creature directly, she used her magic to try and wrench its staff away from it. A telekinetic tug caught Malaranth somewhat off balance, and it found the staff flying from its grasp. Luna appeared in front of the creature and her horn glowed, unleashing a spiral of energy that engulfed the Daemon. A flash of light came from the middle of the magic blast, and Malaranth reappeared some distance away, still alive but looking somewhat more concerned that it had before. Its staff continued to tumble away, falling to the city below, and the Daemon was quick to go after it. Celestia tried to recover it herself, diving down, both creatures using their mighty wings to power themselves forward after the falling artefact. Luna watched on as her sister raced with the Daemon, trying to get control of the thing which could potentially tip the balance of power in their favour. There were many magical artefacts in Equestria; perhaps only the now-useless Elements of Harmony were as powerful as this staff seemed to be.

It was a close thing, but Malaranth was just about able to reach the staff before Celestia could grasp it with her magic. The Daemon rolled in mid-air, raised the staff, and fired. Celestia disappeared behind a solid wall of roiling energy. Not for long, however, as a great ball of magic erupted from inside the warp wall, casting off the dark force like the heat from the sun melting the clouds away. Luna dove down toward the city to help her sibling; their little bit of trickery had almost worked; but almost was the key word, and even without the staff, Malaranth was clearly still able to enact many of its abilities. The staff was important, but it was not the only thing that mattered. Luna took careful aim with her horn. Behind the Daemon was a large building and a crossroads. With Malaranth occupied by Celestia and the staff, Luna hoped she could strike with surprise. She fired.

The Daemon, despite being focused on Celestia, was still aware of Luna's incoming attack, and it was able to teleport out of the line of fire. Luna's magic blast raced through the spot where the Daemon had been floating, and bodily struck the building below in a shuddering explosion. The Daemon turned and raised its staff once more. It had but a fraction of a second to achieve its goal, but it did just that. A flashing cone of light leaped from the staff, this time toward Luna. There was no time to react, no time for Celestia to shout a warning, no time for Luna to scream. The cone of light engulfed her, and the Moon Princess was gone.




Corporal Breeze fired his rifle, but the shot went astray. The man coming at him was a brute, a hulking figure with broad shoulders and a face contorted in anger and rage. Perhaps that was his natural state; perhaps he was always angry, or perhaps he had worked himself into some kind of frenzy before the battle. Perhaps he just truly, deeply hated ponies. Breeze didn't really care what the reason was. All he cared about was his own survival. The man was not alone, either. There were more coming up behind, perhaps a whole platoon's worth. Breeze glanced over his shoulder for a fraction of a second. The rest of his own platoon were there, the covering squads now coming up in support, including the humans attached to their unit. There were more friendly forces farther down the corridor, covering the other direction and firing at more enemies. 

Breeze switched his attention back to the immediate problem. The man had a rifle with a serrated bayonet, and seemed determined to gut Breeze with it. Breeze's own rifle had a bayonet, too, but the human was considerably taller than he was, and had much greater reach with his weapon than the pony did. Breeze backed up again as the man continued to advance. He had support alongside him, too; three more men advanced in line abreast, all but filling the corridor. One man was even struck by a bullet, but continued to advance, either unaware of his wound or simply not caring about it, driven on by steroids or combat drugs, or perhaps merely by adrenaline and anger.

The man lunged again, but Breeze was backing up to the corner in the corridor behind him. Ponies were firing their rifles, but the enemy kept advancing on them, and now more soldiers were coming from side room to the left, joining the attack. The pony platoon were pressed back, forced to turn the corner or to fight in close combat. They had no choice, as the enemy were advancing faster than they could retreat, unless they wanted to completely break ranks and turn to run, which would both leave the other friendly forces exposed and would allow the enemy to gun them down as they tried to escape. Breeze raised his rifle to put a round through the man's stomach, but the brute was already on him again, snarling and lunging with his bayonet. All around him, a coordinated defence began to break down into a melee, just as had occurred on the other, lower floors. Ponies stood their ground, the alternative being to run away like cowards, and though the enemy were bigger and more physically imposing than all but the largest and most muscular pony, not one stallion or mare along them considered themselves to be a coward.

'For the grace and the might of the Sun!' the platoon leader shouted, an added encouragement. 'In the name of Her glory!'  The patriotic rallying cry was sure to instill courage and faith in the hearts of any guardspony.

'Her will be done!' another pony shouted in answer, and with a roar, the platoon leaped into the fight. Blades clashed and magic flashed as the ponies faced their enemy, this invader, this despoiler and ravisher who had sacked their holy capital once again. They would not leave Canterlot alive; every pony was determined in that fact.

'In Celestia's name!' Breeze cried, parrying the man's bayonet. He felt a jarring shock run through his forelegs, as the man was bigger, stronger, and imparted more force into his thrust than Breeze could. In contrast, Breeze could recover more quickly from any failed or diverted thrust than his larger foe, and he was able to quickly slash across to the side with his bayonet, cutting the man's leg and eliciting nary a grunt in response. Perhaps he too was pumped full of combat drugs that numbed the pain of any injury. Breeze returned to the guard position, anticipating another thrust by his foe. But the man did not try to stab with his bayonet, instead attempting a kick with one big, booted foot to try and catch Breeze by surprise. It did surprise him, but it did not unbalance him as the man had hoped. Breeze was able to retain his position, at least until a second kick with his other foot caught Breeze's other hind leg, and sent him tumbling to the floor with a grunt.

The man came in for an attack, to finish off the stubborn pony who refused to simply surrender like he was convinced that any sensible enemy would when faced with the might of Chaos. Breeze retained hold and control of his rifle, and in desperation, he rolled quickly onto his back, gripping the gun tightly, and thrust upward. The man bent forward as he brought his lasgun down to skewer Breeze, but instead found himself impaled on the end of the pony's rifle. Now, regardless of whatever drugs he might have taken before the battle, the Chaos trooper felt the pain. He dropped his weapon, which clattered down, still catching Breeze with the tip of the bayonet but only nicking the top of his left hind leg as it fell. To make sure, Breeze pulled the trigger, and a bullet ripped through the man's abdomen, popping out of the other side and spraying blood onto the ceiling. His expression of pure hatred turned to one of confusion, perhaps tinged with a touch of regret and acceptance. Breeze gave a tug to free his weapon, and was disgusted when a torrent of intestines poured from the ragged wound he had created, unraveling onto his face. He rolled away to get out of the filth as the man collapsed to his knees and then to the floor like a house of cards falling in on itself. 

Breeze tried to wipe the blood and offal from his face, but felt somebody tripping over him in the confusion of the corridor. At least one pony lay dead next to him, and he could hear screams and cries of agony and rage from all around. Every gunshot that rang out was almost deafening, fired inside a building in a hallway with no windows or other exterior openings. The human las-weapons were quieter as the mechanism for firing them was different and did not rely on the detonation of a percussion cap, but even the crack and hiss of their shots was loud enough. Another pony slammed into the floor just beside Breeze, a bloody wound in his neck from which his vital fluid was pumping at a prodigious rate.

There was no time to help him, no chance to stem the bleeding and keep him alive. If he could use his own first aid kid to pack the wound and use his trembling hoof, getting weaker with each beat of his heart, to apply pressure, then there was a tiny chance that the pony could survive. But any major wound in the heat of battle was essentially untreatable, unless the pony could get themselves to a position that was safe enough for a medic to treat them or a stretcher party to carry them away to a casualty clearing station. The only other option was to use magic, but that, for the most part, was a temporary fix. Field medics were trained to a certain degree, but any other unicorns in service only learned the rudimentary basics of first aid magic. There were few healers in Equestria who could truly fix a major, life-threatening wound using magic alone.

Breeze got back to his feet, tasting the metallic tang of the human's blood in his mouth. He had at least, mercifully, been able to close his eyes before getting blood in them, so he could still see the crazed melee that was well and truly underway. To make matters worse, enemies were now coming out of the rooms to the right, threatening to cut the platoon off from the rest of the survivors on the fourth floor, who were farther down the corridor. The situation was dire, and even with three or four ponies using magic to hurl back advancing enemies with a concussive wave, the Chaos troopers were still gaining ground, still pressing them hard. The platoon was being backed into a corner, both literally and figuratively. Breeze was amazed by the speed with which they had raced through the building. The hospital was no small structure, and it was essentially a maze of rooms and corridors to anyone not aware of its layout, and yet the enemy had made their way to the first four floors- probably all the floors by now, and the roof, and the basement, if there was one.

Back in the fight, Breeze tried to take aim at an enemy, but there were so many bodies flailing about that he could not get a good target without risking friendly fire. Ponies were grappling and wrestling with their larger foes, while others were trying to dart around between them to attack from the rear. Breeze saw several very effective kicks with hind legs at the  enemy's knees, which at the minimum send the humans sprawling, and in most cases broke the leg and the kneecap from the front, and severed tendons from the rear. Horseshoes were not sharpened like bayonets, though certain factions had been known to do that in Equestria's distant past. They were still heavy chunks of metal, though, and combined with the force a pony could impart through its strong hind legs, meant that a kick which connected to a vital part of the human anatomy could easily be fatal. 

Another man, squeezed out of the carnage by happenstance or design, found himself approaching Breeze. This soldier held two knives, one in each hand, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He had obviously come prepared for close combat. He sneered at Breeze; clearly he considered the pony corporal to be no threat worth considering, merely another obstacle to dispose of. Breeze was determined to prove him wrong. He sidestepped, trying to slash with his bayonet, but missed. The man swung around, trying to grab Breeze and stick his knives into his flesh. He failed, as Breeze ducked and weaved. Being shorter than the man let him get in low, and he stabbed his bayonet into the meat of his thigh, drawing a grunt of pain from his lips. Breeze turned, got down on all fours, and kicked out with both hooves. The man doubled over, caught in the midriff by the heavy blows. His knives went tumbling away. Breeze regained his position, gave a grunt, and kicked out again. This time the man was laid out on the floor, slumping against the wall. Breeze went in with his hoof once more, this time aiming for the man's head, and again, and again, and again.

He turned to look, no longer feeling fear, or even determination, but just the same, burning anger that seemed to run through the veins of every one of these Chaos troops. Something inside him had snapped, from all the violence, from all the fear and the suffering and the sacrilege. The man's head had been reduced to little more than a leaky sack of gore, brains and blood smeared on the wall where Breeze's horseshoe had pounded it. His head had cracked like an eggshell. One eyeball lay, rather incongruously, a few inches from his body.

Breeze felt no revulsion like he normally would at such a sight. It was all the creature deserved. That was all it was, just a creature, like a timberwolf or a manticore. All it knew was a base desire for blood. The Chaos forces had shown no reason or capacity for higher learning, except perhaps for their leaders. Breeze continued to feel his own bloodlust rising as he looked around. Ponies and men were dying left and right, as if the hospital were overrun with an especially virulent and fast-acting plague. The sky bridge was ahead, just a hundred feet or so from their position. That was where they were heading. The rest of the units in the building were meant to be heading there, too, but there was no sign of any friendlies in that direction. Perhaps they had all been cut off; perhaps they were all dead. Maybe Breeze's platoon was all that was left of the entire force assigned to defend the hospital- no, the airship was still there, wasn't it? Perhaps that too had gone down in flames.

Breeze charged into the fray again. Two men came at him, but one of them went down with a las-round through the head before he could get near. The other man went in with the bayonet, and Breeze countered with his own blade, the clink of clashing steel filling his ears. He snarled. The man snarled back, face contorted in a sadistic smile. He lunged again, catching Breeze's rifle and twisting his own weapon, flicking his wrist and yanking Breeze's gun away from his grasp. The corporal was unarmed, but he was not defenceless, not yet. Breeze leaped at the man while his lasgun was pointed off to the side as a result of snagging his rifle away. He caught him in the midriff and carried enough momentum to knock the man down to the ground. He pinned the man's arm down with a forehoof so he couldn't raise his gun. The soldier reached for a pistol at his waist, but Breeze gave in to his most bestial instincts; instincts that ponies, being natural herbivores, shouldn't even have. He jerked his head forward and tore at the man's neck. His teeth were not designed to tear at flesh, but the majority of stallions did have some canine teeth, and Breeze was no exception. He ripped the skin and muscle away with an almost feral howl, severing the carotid artery and once again finding himself sprayed with blood. The man gurgled and squirmed, looking as much surprised as anything else. Breeze stood up, breathing heavily, his coat heavily matted with other people's viscera, a mad glint in his eye, making him look more like a four-legged soldier of Chaos than a loyal servant of Celestia. 

The members of his platoon were falling, both pony and human alike. Yet salvation, an exit from the madness, was just yards away at the end of the hallway. 'With me, first squad!' he called out, picking up his rifle, and setting course for the sky bridge. A few ponies were able to follow, shoving and stabbing their way through the enemy, but there were still more men coming from side halls and rooms, blocking their path. Breeze was determined to reach it. Nothing was going to stop him leading his squad to safety. Except that something did.

He charged on, ducking a bayonet, stabbing a man in the leg with his own, kicking him in the crotch and then putting a bullet through his head. Another man lunged out at him. He parried with his bayonet, going in with his rifle butt to the stomach. That was when a bright blueish-purple light began to fill the hallway, shining in from outside through the windows of the sky bridge. There was a deep roar like the Canterlot Express hurtling toward him, before the building shook violently, rocking like an earthquake. It felt like the entire city was coming away from the mountain. Breeze stumbled and fell, as did his opponent, and his squad, and everybody else. Walls cracked and windows shattered. The floor turned to jelly and began to crumble away beneath him. Breeze scrambled desperately for solid ground, but the entire corridor was coming apart, as if reality itself was disintegrating around him. There was nothing solid under him any longer. The ceiling collapsed, the walls collapsed, the whole fourth floor collapsed, and Corporal Breeze went down with it.




Princess Celestia had watched her sister come diving in on the attack. She had watched her unleash her magic upon the Daemon. She had watched her attack miss the Daemon and strike the hospital building, practically leveling it, bringing down the connecting sky bridge too. She had watched, helplessly distant, as Luna had been engulfed by the magic, or whatever it was, from the Daemon's staff. She had watched as her sister, her beloved sister, had disappeared entirely. Gone. Vanished. She had not teleported; she did not reappear. 

A deep, all-consuming rage rapidly overcame Celestia. This was an anger she had not felt in a long, long time. Chrysalis had not provoked this, nor had Sombra. Not since she had been forced to banish Luna had she felt such strength of emotion, and then it had been sadness, grief, loss; not anger. She had felt like this only once before, when Discord had first taken control of Equestria all those years ago and started to oppress every single pony in the land. Even that paled in comparison, for this, this was personal. This was something that would break a lesser mind, but Celestia was strong enough to endure, though it still drove her to a dark, dark place.

She retaliated immediately, engaging the Daemon with her magic, a replay of their initial encounter in Fillydelphia. Celestia swirled and flew with the Daemon, a tireless, seemingly endless battle that raged for at least ten minutes, a thunder over the city as magic clashed with the warp. It was a stalemate once again, a fight that seemingly refused to tip one way or another.

All of this was watched intently by observers in the palace. Details of the ongoing battle were shared with the command centre down in the lower levels, where Major Barritt and Commander Shining Armour were directing the defence of the city. The news sent shockwaves through the pony members of the joint defence staff. They were shortly to receive another shock.

'Canterlot Command, this is Fleet Command.' The vox crackled with an urgent message. 'Canterlot Command, this is Fleet Command!'

'Fleet Command, Canterlot Command, go ahead.' A Guardsman replied.

'Canterlot Command, be advised, you have an unknown contact inbound on a terminal trajectory!' the vox crackled. 'I say again, you have an unknown contact inbound on a terminal trajectory! Canterlot Command, get that shield up!'

The city shield was powered by Cadence; or rather, it would be, once she switched from defending the palace to defending Canterlot. But the message would take time to reach her. Anypony looking up to the skies would have seen a sudden, fiery trail, starting slightly to the south and racing through the sky, glowing and blazing like a furnace. Something was coming, and it was coming fast.

'Canterlot Command, this is Fleet Command. Get that shield up, now!'

The object continued on, flashing across the sky. Just in time, the city shield went up, a pink dome above Canterlot, protecting the city and its inhabitants from whatever was coming their way. There was dismay, alarm, concern, among the headquarters staff. Something was coming; nobody knew what. An asteroid or some similar piece of space debris seemed the obvious conclusion, and that was a terrifying prospect. The city shield could theoretically protect Canterlot, but an asteroid strike would destroy more than just one settlement. It could destroy all life on the planet, but there was no way of stopping its rapid descent.

Cadence's shield covered the whole city, enemy as well as friend. The ponies and the humans in the command centre braced themselves for a violent end if the object was not stopped. But nothing could stop it now, for it was moving too fast. It did not matter. 

The flaming comet, falling through the sky, stopped itself.