An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

164 - The Mode of Operation

Extended Holiday
Chapter 164: The Mode of Operation

Hammer Strike blinked before shaking his head. He was outside, or at least the pseudo-outside they had for inmates. How long had it been now? He frowned to himself as he thought over things. The number of surgeries they put him through had dwindled drastically compared to his first few months. From what he gathered, it was due to the incident when he’d killed at least twenty-three different Alicorns, a mix between guards and scientists.

He was considered a risk on the level of Gryphons, which, considering the current state of the Gryphons and their empire, meant he was a high risk to contain, indeed. To be honest, he started to not care so much. With how his mind raced so constantly, he began to zone out of the world around him, and would struggle to keep himself level-headed, though he never really knew entirely what he was doing on the outside anymore. Was he still a high risk in their eyes?

He frowned as he looked up into the yard’s artificial sky once more, his new eyes taking in details that he had missed beforehand. Thankfully, one of the things he was able to figure out about the eyes was that if he focused, he could change their color. The best bit of comfort he could afford was at least changing them back from red to blue, though they glowed, rather than retaining that natural pigment he had once known.

As he scanned over the occupants of the space, he realized that there were no familiar faces anymore. He was surrounded by completely new people, and some of them weren’t even Ponies.

He noted a small gathering of Gryphons with obvious signs of the leash chip being implanted in them. Other than that, they had a strange assortment of items on them. They seemed taller than the Gryphons Hammer Strike had met in the past. Even without armor, a lot of them wore some kind of undersuit that covered their bodies to the neck. Each suit had different colors and symbols, but the dialect was too old for Hammer Strike to understand.

“Some sort of medical suit perhaps? No, it wouldn’t make sense for the Alicorns to keep them contained for an extended period of time with just medical oriented suits,” he began muttering to himself uncontrollably. “Something about it they don’t understand, something important that makes them valuable enough to contain. Winds are alive, the situation is great for them. Divine equipment? Something attached to their very being?”

He growled to himself as he continued to think. There weren't enough variables for him to determine anything just yet, but that didn’t stop him from trying to figure it out.

“Observations, keeping them in check, something important, valuable enough to be kept alive. Corpse isn’t worthwhile, apparently,” he hummed aloud as he continued. “Winds, bodysuits, magic or energy, unknown material composition….”

The only problem he faced at this point was that his observations were much more obvious, given the glowing eyes, which meant that a few of the Gryphons under his observation noticed him easily. For now, they seemed to just acknowledge that he was staring at them, but they did nothing about it.

“Just like the Alicorns, perhaps. Might find other races on a much lower level. Comparatively, that’s obvious, … but still a mistake.”

He groaned as he tapped his hoof on the ground and used the other to tap the side of his head as he tried to organize the rapid stream of thoughts better.

“Too many unknowns.”

“That's the pre-fall Gryphons,” Grif said, a bit taken aback.

“Well, it is an era where they were at war, right?” Vital asked.

“At war with the Alicorns.” Grif nodded. “Only species on Equis who gave them trouble, aside from maybe the Dragons.”

“So, is it really such a surprise that they would take prisoners like this?”

“I suppose I thought they’d die first,” Grif admitted.

“Sometimes, you don’t get that option in war,” Pensword said grimly. “We all know that well.”

“Still, I never thought I’d actually see them alive,” Grif noted. “See that symbol on their chest? Little to the left? That's the mark of the lost city.”

“Another lost city?” Twilight asked.

“Given our track records, I’m pretty sure it won’t stay lost for long,” Vital noted. “You guys sort of have a knack for that, and finding trouble along the way.”

“We’ll see.” Grif sighed. “For now, let’s work toward finding him.”

“I’m sure the TARDIS will see to that,” Vital reassured. “She wouldn’t guide us wrong.”

“I repeat. Another lost city?”

“Breathe, darling. Breathe,” Rarity said as Twilight began to hyperventilate.

“You think Ponies are the only ones who get lost cities?” Grif asked.

“Well, no, but why didn’t you guys tell me about it?”

“Because it’s a city lost to my people for longer then Equestria’s been around?” Grif asked rhetorically.

“But I could’ve helped you research it.”

“Twilight, how can I put this?” Grif sighed. “Pony libraries have Pony versions of history, and ponies can be kind of….” He considered for a few minutes. “Incredibly racist?”

“... This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the EEA, would it?”

“Honestly, Twilight, they seem to be more a symptom, not the root of things. Until we came around, your most common terms were anypony, everypony, or terms with Pony added, instead of body or creature. Several of your base synonyms are inherently racist. ‘Greedy like a Gryphon,’ ‘he’s a real fire-breather.’ Honestly, there are several places within Equestrian territory that barely make the bottom line because the main inhabitants aren't Ponies. Hell, look at what happened with Zecora.”

“Yeah, that’s one that’s a little hard to refute, Twilight,” Vital agreed. “Ponyville wasn’t the first village she visited. It was just the first one that didn’t drive her out, because they were more afraid of the Everfree than they were of her. Granted, she knew she needed to come there, but the point still stands.”

“But not all of Equestria is like that. I was able to convince the Ponies in Ponyville.”

“You also had an education under the personal tutelage of a monarch, with all the vast resources that entails. Not many Ponies get that kind of attention or advantage. Plus, if I recall correctly, you also bought into Pinkie’s hysteria for a while.”

Twilight blushed. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“That’s always how it starts. Add some gossip, a vicious rumor, a hint of stereotyping for flavor, and you have a recipe for an environment where a herd that often follows a strong figure on instinct can easily turn on others.”

“Let’s not forget how the Thestrals were treated before Luna came to them,” Pensword added. “And they’re Ponies, too.”

“But … but we’re better than that,” Twilight said.

“Better than where you began, perhaps,” Vital said. “But as much as I hate to admit it, Grif has a point. Equestria still has a way to go to overcome some of its more negative behaviors.”

Twilight’s face took on an expression not unlike that of a wounded puppy.

“There, there, Twilight,” Rarity reassured as she patted the Alicorn’s back. “Progress always takes time. I mean, look at me, for example. My first dresses and costumes seem positively amateur to me now. The important thing is to be patient and lead by example. Hammer Strike rules that way, and look how much New Unity has grown because of it.”

“I just hate to think that we’re still like that.”

“Then think of a way to change it, Princess,” the Doctor cut in. “You’re a clever girl. You’ll figure it out.”

“Doctor, are you actually … being nice to me?”

“Let’s call it … neutral observant.”

Twilight sniffled and smiled weakly. “I’ll take it.”

The Doctor turned to attend to the TARDIS’ console just in time to hide the hint of a smile that pulled at his lips.

‘Another surgery’, Hammer Strike thought to himself with some frustration. ‘Likelihood being around ninety-five percent.’

He frowned at the thought. Something didn’t feel right to him. 

‘Likelihood of something going wrong, about ten percent.’

‘Concept; Alicorns likely implanted something within my head. Appears to be some sort of module dedicated toward analytics, leaning toward predictions.

He growled as he scratched his head. “Likelihood being eight-five … Ninety-five percent,” he muttered to himself. “Analytics leaning toward this being accurate.”

He growled to himself once more. His head was already packed with a constant stream of information from the first thing they did to him. Now he was sitting on top of more information. Some part of his head was constantly crunching numbers as he thought on the outcome to things.

Likelihood of the Alicorns checking in on him: Thirty-two percent.

Likelihood of failures in the alterations: Twenty-four percent.

Likelihood of the Alicorns caring: Zero.

There was a small shift in noise above him, leading him to glance up at the observation room to find two alicorns up top. One familiar scientist, and a new one.

They didn’t say a word to him, simply observed and wrote notes, eighty-five percent chance of them being entirely about him, fifteen percent toward it being a mixed bag with an addition of chatting non-verbally.

Chance of Hammer Strike having a chance at them, five percent. He finished that calculation with a heavy sigh.

Hammer Strike muttered to himself as he stared at the collective groups. Ever since they placed in the prediction module or whatever it was in his head, he’d been muttering analytics mostly to himself. However, others happened to catch on, and despite all of them not knowing or understanding who he was, they would ask him questions on things to see what he thought.

Whatever they asked him, based on his knowledge, he was able to give them a rough percentage on how things would go, and as it turned out, he was pretty damn accurate.

Chance of testing based on previous scheduling for the Pegasi? Roughly eighty percent, based off the schedule.

Chance of surgery based on the current outlook, about five tests in already on an earth Pony? Thirty-five percent.

“Chance of escape for a Gryphon male with equipment that formed some form of basic defense and adept in speed? Zero percent.”

It was at this point that Hammer Strike realized he had been automatically answering questions asked of him and of situations he was hearing in the background.

And the Gryphon planning his escape, as it turns out, was not deaf.

The Gryphon's head turned to him in a very bird-like fashion, and glared at him with sharp predatory eyes. “What was that, Pony?”

“Your chance of escape with your current p-p-plan will result in failure,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“And how in the nine hells would you know?” he growled.

“Previous attempts at escape from a G-g-gryphon has resulted in the same outcome. You all f-fail to take into account the number of Alicorns in your path, and have a body count lower than you like to brag about.” Hammer Strike frowned.

“And how the hell would you know that, Earthwalker?” the Gryphon asked, rising to his full stature.

“Because out of all the p-p-prisoners and test subjects here, I hold the highest body count. You all remark of things that make no sense in terms of fighting multiple Alicorns, despite bragging that you’ve ‘fought at least ten at once.’” Hammer Strike’s posture was still relaxed as he looked to the Gryphon.

A powerful blast of wind slammed into Hammer Strike and dissipated as the gryphon growled threateningly.

“Probability of walking out of this unharmed is rapidly dropping for you,” Hammer Strike replied as a smile began to form. “Such a pathetic display,” he growled out.

The Gryphon roared and charged at Hammer Strike, slashing out with his talons.

Everything went into effect as Hammer Strike sidestepped the Gryphon with ease. “Probability of you walking out of this unharmed? Zero percent.” His grin grew. “Probability of it hurting?” He dropped under the Gryphon mid-swipe and struck him in the chest, effectively launching the prisoner up and back away from him. “One hundred.”

“Well, that escalated quickly.” Grif sighed.

“Hammer Strike’s had enough. In short, he no longer gives a buck,” Vital said.

“Let's hope he starts again soon,” Grif noted.

“That … would likely require time to actually recuperate,” Pensword noted. “Time that I doubt they’ll give him.”

Rarity was busy consuming Derpy’s latest batch of muffins to keep from collapsing into a sobbing mess.

Vital winced as he watched one of Hammer Strike’s hooves connect with his opponent. “Ooh. That’s gonna leave a mark. And … maybe a permanent impression.”

“He’s going to kill him,” Grif stated matter-of-factly.

“Well, given how your culture treated Equines over the years, it may be the only way for him to earn their respect, regardless. Not that it makes it any easier to watch.”

“He’d have killed him anyway.”

“Must you, Grif?” Rarity asked. Her eyes were puffy, though her liner and makeup skills had done much to obscure the bloodshot eyes.

“In a way, yes,” Grif stated. “Never leave an enemy alive to attack you, no matter how pathetic. That’s a motto I and Hammer Strike have shared for years. The minute that Gryphon attacked, he signed his death warrant.”

“Does it … help? Talking about it like this, I mean?” she asked.

“It helps you understand,” Grif said. “That’s the thinking that keeps you alive in a fight or on a battlefield. This is what you need to be ready for.”

“Do you … always think like that, then?”

“Rarity, I have a way to kill almost everyone I have ever met already planned,” Grif stated. “Hammer Strike and our current host being the main exceptions.”

“And Hammer Strike, too?”

“I know he plans things out to the smallest detail,” Vital said. “Killing? Usually he saves that for when there’s no other alternative. Though I have seen some contingency plans for that in some of his files.”

“I … see.” Rarity turned and stared unerringly at the screen again. The light flickered ghostlike over her eyes as her forelegs wrapped around a pillow for comfort.

Hammer Strike growled as he knocked the Gryphon back once again. The guards were active and seemed to be preparing to stop the fight. He couldn’t let that happen. There was a sixty-seven percent chance that the Gryphon would get reinforcements for the next fight, and he wasn’t going to accept that.

Hammer Strike’s expression turned serious as he created a wall of aer around the Gryphon, halting their movement.

The Gryphon said nothing, heavily wounded as he was he was and struggling to hold up.

“Our fight was short. And honestly?” The guards chose that moment to attempt to enter the ground. Hammer Strike simply raised a hoof to one side of his throat. “You weren’t even worth the effort.” He finished, crossing his throat with his hoof.

Onlookers watched as the Gryphon stopped struggling, and in fact, stopped any form of functioning. Blood slowly appeared on his neck before the head shifted and slid off to the side.

It was at this point that heavy restraints appeared around Hammer Strike before he was suddenly dragged quickly out of the room. His smile had left him, and all he could feel was disappointment.

The Gryphons watched in utter shock. Up until this time, they’d believed Ponies to be less developed beings. While they didn’t take them to test on, like the Alicorns, they tended to ignore them. To see one of their own defeated so easily was highly unsettling.

An alicorn stood tall amongst two guards. “I would advise you to clean up that mess,” he commented. His voice was deep and clear. His glowing eyes looked over the guards and the corpse. Onlookers noted the Alicorn was very tall, and clearly had more authority than most, but found him to be strangely straightforward. It wasn’t a standard Alicorn, however, as it lacked any form of cutie mark. Instead, it bared an insignia of a shield over a singular blade. This was no Alicorn. This was a heavy-class android guard.

The dreaded hammer lay dead on the floor with its shaft pointing toward the containment chamber’s ceiling. The barrier sizzled with the continuous flow of extra mana pumping through it as a full twenty guards cast in unison. The chamber had been layered with their latest experimental alloy to endure the potential blows that could come from the infernal artifact at any moment, and hopefully disperse the kinetic force, rather than taking it all at once.

“I want to know what magic is binding this artifact to that creature, and I want to know now.” The snarl was a far cry from the condescending tone the scientist had used when they first acquired the hammer.

“Sir, perhaps it’s time to take it to him?” one subordinate suggested yet again.

“I told you, we’re not going to rely on that pompous, overbearing, shortsighted—!”

“FIDELIUS BURNS!”

The scientist whinnied in surprise as the room lit up with a series of magical sigils that created a large magical circle. A few moments later, the projected image of a charcoal stallion with a flowing black mane and a bright red horn towered over the gathering.

“C-councilman Industria.” Fidelius bowed to the projection. “What brings you to our humble halls?”

“As the chief scientific officer of our empire, the council has designated it my responsibility to address certain … anomalies that have arisen with Doctor Bright’s latest guinea pig. Your team has struggled to control and even divine the origins of a certain artifact that has chosen, for whatever reason, to bond with this base creature. I’ve read your reports, and am aware of your theory as to a divine blessing. Such magics are exceptionally potent and lie under the scope of more ancient and arcane methods of craftsmanship. As such, it is the will of the council that you surrender possession of the artifact in question to one Andre the Smith.” The projection’s gaze narrowed. “This is not open for debate. You will have the weapon transported to his forge within the next twenty-four hours. Do I make myself clear?”

Fidelius grit his teeth and bore them in a gruesome pantomime of a smile. “Of course, Lord Industria. It shall be as the council wills.”

“Good. And Fidelius?”

“Yes, Councilman?”

“We’ll be watching.”

The air crackled with Fidelius’ magic as the projection faded. His forehead throbbed with rage as he hissed quietly. “Prepare the artifact for transport.”

“So, you brought it to me.” Andre’s voice was rough and low. He was an abnormally large Alicorn, charcoal grey in coloration with a long swept-back white mane that connected to a long beard. A few scars were notable across his face.

“It was the council’s will,” Fidelius noted mildly. “They wish to understand the artifact’s nature as soon as possible. And this particular magic requires more … experienced hooves to delve.” He barely managed to suppress the grimace, though his face did twinge.

Andre hummed to himself as he looked over the hammer. “Well, you at least gave me a decent project this time, compared to previous times.”

“The council requests that you sever the bond it has with its current wielder, if at all possible, so that we may better analyze its internal spell structure.”

“We’ll see how things go before you start with the demands,” Andre replied flatly. “Give me some time to study it down first. Then you can start making requests.”

“Of course,” Fidelius acquiesced. “We’re aware such a powerful artifact will take time for proper study.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Not at this time. Though the Board of Development  is still waiting on your granddaughter’s latest physical. Would you mind contacting your daughter, so we can schedule an appointment?”

“I’ll get around to it.” Andre sighed. “Now, I’ve got work to do, and you’re still sitting here in my workshop.”

Fidelius’ brow twitched. “Pleasure seeing you, too, Sir Andre.”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“I’m a scientist, not a politician.” Fidelius shrugged, then strode up the old stone stairs without another word.

“Still piss-poor at it either way.”

Hammer Strike stared at his cell wall. The same thing, over and over and over again. Day in, and day out, his schedule was down to mark.

Surgery every so often, at minimum within five test sessions. A test session every two weeks. Placed in his containment cell with brief visits of scientists to take notes on him. Yard time, nobody bothered him, but if they did, it was always brief.

New augments, new tests.

He felt himself drift, mind thinking on tasks, what to do, what he could do, anything to escape the reality in which he was stuck in.

“Get group five, subject’s eight through fifteen out here,” he heard a voice call out.

He shook his head. He couldn’t have heard that right. It made no sense. The Alicorns worked off a group system based off the year. He was a part of group eight, though, and it had only been roughly a year to two years.

Right?

“What was that?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud as he noticed the guards around him. He was walking. Yard time perhaps.

The guards looked down at him with flat stares before one of them sighed. “Simply calling out group five. Eyes forward.”

Hammer Strike furrowed his brow as he continued following them out into the yard. He took to his usual spot and stared out to the field once more. It took him a moment, but he finally began to actually notice that he recognized no one. There was not a single soul there he could name. All of them were complete strangers to him, but all of them kept their distance from him, most likely following the example of those who had come before.

He blinked a few times as he scanned over them all before turning toward himself. He was covered in scars he didn’t recognize. His body had definitely lost mass, though he still felt strong to a point. It appeared to be mostly body fat that he still had, though it definitely wasn’t healthy.

Just what had happened to him?

What happened to everyone else?

… How long had he been here?

Hammer Strike was brought back to reality suddenly and without warning. Usually, he would come back to after zoning out slowly, but this was sharp and abrupt. He was in his cell, and the room was eerily quiet. The light above flickered in a strange hue. The room felt cold, off even. He swept the room slowly, trying to figure out what was happening when just for a moment before him in the center of the room, there was a colt sitting with dark black eyes.

And then he vanished and the cell door swung ajar at the end of the cell.

Hammer Strike frowned as he stood from his position. It wasn’t the Alicorns. That much, he was sure of.

He blinked in confusion as he realized he wasn’t thinking in percentages, nor rapidly. Looking around the room one last time he didn’t notice anything quite off, nor right, about it.

If it was a test from the Alicorns, then screw it, he’d go for it just for this moment of silence. Once he reached the cell door, a walkway was revealed stretching in front of him. It looked perfectly normal, except that it only stretched out another ten feet, rather than the few hundred or so it normally did. The end was broken. The metal looked completely shorn off. The stone walls were shattered, and the chunks just floated in gray fog that seemed to go on for forever in all directions. Not far off, another piece of the Alicorns’ home floated along a narrow piece of walkway. Stone effigies of alicorns stood in mid step.

“What the hell’s going on?” he questioned aloud. “What kind of tests are they running on me now?”

“Welcome to the void, Hammer Strike.” A strange echoing, yet familiar voice spoke. Before Hammer Strike's eyes, a pony evaporated into being in front of him, the same black-eyed colt he’d seen in the cell. Only now he realized he looked familiar, aside from the black leather jacket he wore or his completely jet black eyes. Irises, scalera, the entire thing was inky blackness. But the figure was familiar.

“No.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, you’re not him. You are definitely not real. Just another one of those tests by the Alicorns. There’s no way.”

“The alicorns cannot touch me anymore, Hammer Strike. Their experiment succeeded, but not in the way they imagined. No one can see us here, not them, not your ever-present audience, not even the gods.”

Hammer Strike frowned as he thought on it and took in Distant’s appearance once more. He didn’t feel any additional observers anymore, true. Even in an illusion, he could feel them, but not now. “Are … it … is it really you, Distant?”

“Distant sight was my name in life, at least the name I knew. But I’m not that Pony anymore. I suppose I'd be closer to one of your embodiments, the embodiment of the void, the one who stands outside and looks in. You can call me the outsider.”

“Outsider…” Hammer Strike muttered for a moment. “What happened?”

Outsider waved his hoof, and in an instant Hammer Strike and he stood in another floating section, a large room where several Alicorns stood around in a circle with runes carved into the room around them glowing bright. In the center, a stone Alicorn was bringing a knife to a stone effigy of Distant’s throat. “In this spot, they killed me, and I became like a god,” he explained.

“A ritual of sorts,” Hammer Strike muttered. “So, they dabble in everything.”

“I have a gift for you,” The Outsider told Hammer Strike as the Earth Pony felt a burning on his left side near his cutie mark. “I give you my mark. There are forces in this world that have been awakened to me, forces more powerful and strange then most magic. These forces will now serve you.”

“Forces of the void?”

“In a way, but you have nothing to fear from my power. These forces have no will of their own. They seek only to accomplish what you want,” The Outsider assured him. “Do with them what you will.”

“But what can it—?” He looked up and found himself seated in his cell once more. The noise of information filled his mind, but not so loudly as it used to. Looking back at his cutie mark, he noted the new addition mark was still there.

And up on the wall it sat, dead center, surrounded by a cacophony of notes he assumed he wrote himself thaumically.

That meeting really did happen...?

Terra Galaxia frowned as she peered over the information tablet. Her fur was the color of sand, her mane a long brown with bright green tips tied into a bun behind her ears. A pair of sharp needles held the style in place as she scrolled through the data. “So, let me get this straight. The council wants me to stay assigned to this project for the foreseeable future because we ‘lost’ some of our staff. We haven’t been performing tests to try creating artificial lifeforms again, have we?”

“Not quite,” a familiar maneless Alicorn muttered. “One of the test subjects had an incident, and it resulted in our ‘displacement’ of staff.”

She raised a brow. “And you thought I would be the best fit, why?”

“The subject has gone ‘inert’ and seems to keep to itself now, and we lack staff. You have the qualifications needed to assist, so you were moved to the position,” he replied simply. “Be sure to study the list of subjects before you start,” he finished as he gave a nod and exited the office.

Terra rolled her eyes. “I swear, if they’re doing this as some way to get back at Father—hello, what’s this?” She peered curiously at the manifest. Most of the subjects listed were either deceased or slotted for experimentation. However, one in particular had been listed by a separate group number. “Are you supposed to be our anomaly, then?” She selected the subject and her eyes widened as his profile scrolled on. And on. And on. “Bonnie’s teats,” she swore. “How are you still even alive?” She continued to scroll through the subject’s bio, until she discovered yet another novelty. Who better to consult with over an anomaly of this magnitude than the immortal genius who had apparently helped operate himself? A few taps later, a disinterested stallion peered at her screen.

“This is Bright.”

“Doctor Bright, I’m calling to consult with you about one of your previous patients, an Earth Pony with a large number of scars and a torn ear?”

“Ah, eight-twenty.” Bright nodded.

“I just wanted to make certain these entries are correct. Just how many surgeries has he been put through?”

“Hold on a second.” Dr. Bright’s image flickered for a few moments. “All right, now we’re no longer tapped,” he said. “Terra, eight-twenty has been a test subject for seven years. You know what the average survival of a subject is?”

Terra frowned her disapproval. “Given how sadistic some of the tests can be, anywhere from less than a week to maybe three months at best.”

“In your recent training, did they ever tell you details about what most experiments involve, exactly? What subjects are put through?”

“You should know they don’t, Doctor. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the missing personnel, who I’m certain are far from misplaced.”

“They’re dead,” Bright stated simply. “A few years ago, eight-twenty’s cellmate eight-fifteen was killed in a project named Veil Blade performed by the Arcane Sciences Department. His death was not an accident. While most of my colleagues don’t care to find out such details, eight-twenty and eight-fifteen were close friends. They’d developed a comradery of sorts in their suffering. The news of eight-fifteen’s death was given to eight-twenty in a blunt and careless fashion, and he turned out to be much stronger in his rage than we were aware. I’d ask your father for details. He’d likely have a better idea than I would.”

Terra’s gaze narrowed. “Are you saying he has something to do with what’s been happening here?”

“You’ve been made aware that test subjects are acquired outside the city. What you haven’t been made aware of is that eight-twenty was acquired ... differently.”

“Define differently.”

“Several years ago, a project was put into motion to create a time window, so our ‘glorious leaders’ could look into the future of our race. The project only half succeeded. We saw a future, but what was seen was buildings in disrepair with no obvious signs of life. And then eight-twenty fell through the window. He … reacted violently, killing at least four of those present at the time. The thing was, he had something with him.” While she didn’t know its name, a projection of Ulkrusher rose from her tablet. “This is anomaly eight-twenty-1. As you may recognize by its shape, it is a weapon known as a warhammer. However, we have been unable to determine who made it, what they made it from, or what its runic magics mean. What we do know is subject eight-twenty can call it into his hoof without massive magical prevention, and that while it reacts badly to anyone else, eight-twenty can use it to crush our armor like clay.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Do not assume that I am saying eight-twenty is dangerous on his own,” Bright continued. “My personal observations, in fact, say that he may not be prone to violence as a first reaction.”

“I assume that’s why you suggested I speak with my father,” Terra noted. “Do I have access to the subject’s security footage and medical recordings?”

“Normally, no.” Bright shook his head. “And if you ever tell anyone I gave you access, I’ll deny it.”

Terra peered speculatively at the stallion. “All right, I’ll bite. Why are you doing this?”

“Because as someone who’s lived long enough to see myself become the villain, I've been a bit disillusioned to what our leaders believe we represent. Have you ever wondered why, if we have such a mantle of responsibility, we’ve never extended a hoof to the so-called ‘lesser’ races?”

“You know what happened to the last people who tried.”

“Oh? What? What did they tell you happened to them?”

“They didn’t. That’s the point.”

“And you never questioned that?”

“Let’s say I knew better than to question aloud. I may be from an old family, but I’m not stupid.”

“Then maybe it’s time you did some finding out in secret,” Dr. Bright said. “You have access to everything relevant to what's going on. Read it and start asking your own questions.” With that, Doctor Bright’s image vanished.

Terra was careful to watch for cameras as she looked over the new data. Her jaw nearly dropped at the sight and size of the files loading for this one subject alone. She steeled herself and scrolled to the first. “All right, Eight-twenty, let’s see what you have to show me.”

Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he shook his head. He was zoning out again, and he needed to fix that. He already made that mistake once, and now he felt in an even more alien situation than he was beforehand. At least before he knew a couple of faces, but now it was a clean slate.

Looking over the other groups, he noted there were more Unicorns in this mix than normal. If they were testing indiscriminately, it would be an even mix, at least by probability.

But that wasn’t the thing bothering him at the moment. It felt like someone was focused on him, and yet there were none from the groups actively looking in his direction. Even the few Gryphon prisoners kept to themselves. The Alicorn guards seemed to glance over all their prisoners with little care, meaning it wasn’t them.

As he scanned the windows, he finally came across one of the scientists staring directly at him. She didn’t avert her gaze immediately as he noticed, but eventually she shifted her attention to the tablet in her telekinetic hold. He kept his observation on her to focus as she drifted from the tablet back to him repeatedly.

He raised a brow quizzically. For what reason would another scientist have to focus on him? He already had three watching over him at this point. Or was it potentially more? He pondered with a frown, directing his attention back forward. He kept her in his peripheral vision, and made no further direct focus on her.

He sighed as the guards slowly filtered into the yard and began moving subjects back to their containment cells.

The air reverberated with the sound of an extra set of hooves. He didn’t bother looking back. The hesitant gait could have been another guard or some other resident of the labs. Given the distance and care the gait suggested, it was likely the latter. It didn’t take long to arrive in his cell again. A brusque shove and the heavy thump of the door sealing shut was all he had.

Up on the second floor, Terra peered at the subject once again. The marks from the initial surgeries were easy enough to spot. She hadn’t been prepared for just how extensive the scarring on the stallion’s hide would be. The location and specifications of the leash chip at the top of his spinal column was clearly outlined in the pad, and the lump on his neck confirmed the record. “That kind of shock should have killed you,” she muttered to herself in disbelief. “How are you still breathing?”

Hammer Strike directed his attention toward Terra upon her speaking.

Terra hastily backed away from the glass with tablet levitating by her side. The subject was supposed to be despondent. In all the time others had observed him, he’d never looked up. The odds of his breaking that pattern without some form of stimuli were exceedingly remote. But the odds of his hearing her through the glass, when muttering no less, were even more so. How could such a thing be? And yet, logic dictated that when all other possibilities were eliminated, the remaining one, however remote or unlikely, must be true. If such were the case….

She hastily pulled up a search algorithm and checked for anything to do with the subject’s auditory receptors. No matches appeared. The only way to verify the possibility was to experiment. And given Doctor Bright’s analysis, it seemed the worst she could expect from the subject would be a lack of response. At least, she hoped that was the worst she could expect. She approached the glass one more time. The Pony hadn’t moved. She took a deep breath, engaged the speakers to listen in on the cell, braced herself, then spoke in the tongue of the creatures. “Can you … hear me?”

Hammer Strike stared at her for a moment, before sighing. “Yes.”

“That … shouldn’t be possible.” She paused briefly. “Then again, from what I understand, impossibility seems to be a foreign concept to you.” She swallowed. “I … haven’t been here long. But a mutual acquaintance helped me to learn about you to an extent. If half of what I’ve read thus far is true….” She averted her gaze. “I’m … not sure how you’re able to go on the way you have. It should be biologically impossible. But, I suppose you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about. Or … do you?”

“I have been given enough ‘lessons’ from your kind.” Hammer Strike directed his attention to the door. “Do not m-mistake me for a fool, l-like you all seem so inclined to believe.”

That was … unexpected. The lack of any form of fear was understandable, given what had occurred with his previous state, but the bluntness and sheer rigidity of his words was almost robotic in its venom. Still, the chance to analyze his mind could prove useful in more ways than one. “What should I take you for, then, if you had the choice to decide?”

Hammer Strike’s attention was once again redirected back to Terra. He looked her over for a moment before frowning and muttering to himself. “Unlikely, potentially doing a test. Likelihood at approximately forty percent. Chance of it being a trap of some kind, approximately ten … fifteen percent.” He redirected his attention back to her once again. “Whatever you so choose.”

Terra frowned. The calculations were accurate, but why would he speak them aloud? The reply had seemed simple at first glance, but on further analysis revealed a complex philosophical outlook and a potential value of another’s freedom to choose. Whoever and whatever this Pony was, he had a firm set of morals. That, or he simply didn’t care. It would require more study to be certain. Though if they were experimenting with a new stabilizer, she would need to make a note of a potential failure in the device. That would explain the stream of thought and lack of emotion the subject demonstrated. She drew up the search on her tablet again and frowned when the screen went blank. “No. This has to be a mistake,” she muttered to herself. Then she returned her gaze to the subject. “There are some anomalies I need to investigate. Would you be willing to,” she cleared her throat. “To talk again when I return?”

Hammer Strike hummed. “Forty percent.”

Terra nodded and flicked off the audio switch. “Those are odds I’m willing to accept.” She left without another word, but a strange twinge of foreboding and anxiety pulled at her chest. Was this a premonition, guilt? She shook her head. To consider such a thing would be ridiculous. He was a test subject, after all.

And then Dr. Bright’s words returned like a vengeful spirit.

Have you ever wondered why, if we have such a mantle of responsibility, we’ve never extended a hoof to the so-called ‘lesser’ races?

Terra’s pace quickened to a canter.

The journey to Doctor Wile’s office was a short one, thanks in part to her haste and the added perk of being able to fly wherever she wished within the city. The doctor’s office was meticulously cleaned and filled only with the barest essentials. Metal formed the smooth edged facets of all the furniture, and a set of basic surgical implements had been mounted to a wall between a series of digital projections verifying the stallion’s certification in his field. It hadn’t taken long for his secretary to let her in, and the light reflected off the bald patch on top of his head.

“I apologize for the lack of an appointment, Doctor, but it seems that I must have gotten a hold of a corrupted file somehow. And given the test subject concerned with said file, I wanted to come by your office to rectify the error immediately.”

“Corrupted in what way?” Wile questioned.

“Namely that it appears a file must be missing.”

Wile seemed confused for a moment. “I’ll have to look into it then, but if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know it’s missing a file?”

“I’ve recently been assigned to the team overseeing one of your more prominent test subjects, number Eight-Twenty. His file is most extensive, and his resilience astonishing, but I noticed a lack of an entry for a stabilizer mod. Given the fact the subject is still breathing and functioning, I assume the file detailing the surgery must have either been misplaced, corrupted, or accidentally deleted.”

“Oh, no, that’s correct,” he confirmed. “Subject Eight-Twenty lacks any form of stabilizer.”

“Then how is he still alive?”

“That’s the thing.” He leaned forward. “There is no way it should be able to function, and yet it manages to keep active and mostly functional. Of course, it goes through a few issues of mental disengagement at times, but other than that, it’s functional with over ten augments attached to its brain.”

“That many?”

“More than that, but admittedly, I’ve started to lose count,” he replied with a smile. “We’ve kept it around to see how many it can manage before it gives out. We’ve got a few more lined up soon, now that I think about it.”

“At once or separate?”

“Separate. We can’t risk our machine pushing it too far in between ‘resting’ periods.”

“I see. We’ll make sure to keep detailed notes on his behavior and overall function for you, then.” She nodded and rose from her seat. “Thank you for helping to clarify the situation, Doctor. Should I expect to see much of you at Eight-Twenty’s observation deck in the near future?”

“No. While I find it interesting, the constant muttering and such gets on my nerves.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded. “Goodbye, Doctor.” She managed to keep her calm until she was a goodly distance away from the building before she dropped the mask and grit her teeth.

This wasn’t science. This was cruelty.

Hammer Strike grunted as he was abruptly shoved into an experimental containment cell. It was sealed from top to bottom with an airlock-style door. The only two additional sites he could notice was an observation window on the side of the chamber and an additional airlock system to transport something into the room.

This was not like any other test they had put him through. Sure, he had done combat tests, intelligence tests, and even magical tests, but nothing put him in a room like this. It was completely cordoned off, and every part of the prediction module in his head screamed analytics of danger and potentially hazardous material.

The airlock hummed for a moment and then hissed as something poured into the airlock. At first look, Hammer Strike thought it was a thick liquid of some kind. It was black and shiny and constantly moving. And then, all at once, it separated into two globs. Both masses proceeded to lift themselves off the ground on four long tentacles with pointed ends. They resemble four-legged spiders in a way as they moved and skittered about.

Hammer Strike’s stance shifted as he studied the two creatures. They definitely weren’t normal. Something about them screamed unnatural. Looking back into the observation chamber, he noted his two usual scientists staring back at him and the creatures.

After a few moments, the doors hissed louder as they opened, and the creatures entered the room with Hammer Strike. They skittered in quickly with jittery movements and circled around him, as if sizing him up. 

After several seconds, one lunged at him from the front. He punched at it, only for it to stick to his hoof as its tentacles wrapped around his foreleg and he felt energy being drawn. Before he could react, the second jumped on his upper back from behind. Tentacles wrapped around his neck and front leg joints tightly as it, too, began to draw.

Up in the observation room one of the Alicorns made a mark on his clipboard. “Should only be a few moments now,” she commented.

“Um, … ma’am, I’m not so certain.”

“Out of a hundred test subjects, we’ve had no survivors. Why should this end differently?”

“Because the experiments are, um, screaming, Ma’am.”

As they looked on, Hammer Strike had coated his body in blue flames. This had not worked as he had hoped as the creatures seemed to also coat in blue flames with a shriek and kept feeding from off his energy.

He began to panic. It wasn’t normal for things to adjust to him at this level, going so far as to adapt to his fire. As he scanned over the creatures, he finally took note of a small thread coming off them, something similar to the hive mind link for changelings. After a brief moment of scanning it, he latched onto the energy and broke it as quickly as he could. The resulting chaos of the link was notable as they suddenly snapped to himself, and he felt as though another consciousness attached itself to him.

As he grunted in frustration he yelled, “Get off of me!”

Instantly, they were off, skittering a few feet away from him and just … waiting.

Hammer Strike huffed, exhausted at the exertion and the amount of energy they had taken from him. What did he do? Why were they listening to him now?

The Alicorns looked down, utterly shocked as the mimics seemed to show deference to the Pony.

“What do we do now?” the subordinate asked.

“We need to get the subjects separated,” the other scientist said. “Quickly.”

Hammer Strike shook his head as he came back to. He was standing inside the surgery ward. The two Alicorns were off to the side near the cabinet conversing over something, but something didn’t feel right to him.

They weren’t looking at him. The guard wasn’t even bothered to focus on him.

And a black-robed alicorn stood off to his right.

It was at this point that he realized something was definitely wrong, and looked to the surgery table. Rather than an empty spot, he watched as the machine above finished up it’s work on him. The heart rate monitor had flatlined, and he finally realized that he had died in the process of the surgery.

But that couldn’t be right. Based off history, he still had plenty to do, meaning that something had to intervene.

“I’m sorry,” a softer feminine voice echoed in his head.

“No, you’re not. It’s part of the job,” he replied simply.

“Doesn’t mean i can’t be sorry about it,” she returned. “Yours was a hard end.”

“Not quite an end just yet.” He scanned over a few things around him. “So, you’re the Death before. Didn’t think I’d get to meet you. An Alicorn, no less.”

“It wasn’t my choice, for what it’s worth. I regret what we’ve become”

He sighed. “I believe it.” He gave a faint smirk. “After all, I bet they give you lots of work.”

“You have no idea. I hope whoever is set to judge you shows you the kindness you deserve.” She produced a scroll and began going through it.

“You won’t find me on there,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“Everybody is in here,” she retorted.

“Then find me.” he gave a cocky smile. “The name’s Hammer Strike.”

“Well. It looks like you found one corner you couldn’t squirm out of,” a voice spoke as a tall white-furred Alicorn mare appeared. Her mane and tail were constantly shimmering different colors in the light, making it hard to determine their actual coloring.

“Once again, best of luck to you in that regard,” Hammer Strike replied as he shrugged. “Not quite dead. Not yet.”

“Doesn’t matter if she finds you or not. You’re already disconnected from your body.”

“Your point? I’ve done this before.” He shrugged once again before frowning. “I refuse to give in so easily.”

“You really think you have a choice now?” Destiny chuckled.

“You just don’t know it yet.”

She poked her hoof in his chest. “Your body is dead. How are you going to counter that?”

Hammer Strike’s tone shifted as Destiny continued to poke him. Thaumic energy surrounded his form, both body and soul, as he knocked her hoof away before rearing his foreleg back and punching with as much force as he could muster in his current state.

Destiny found herself tumbling backward and hitting the back wall of the surgery ward. She let out an angry growl.

“I’m not dead just yet, and I refuse to let someone like you try to get the best of me,” Hammer Strike growled as fire began to lick off his spiritual body. “You will not find me in Death’s list, nor will you be the one to bring me down!” he yelled defiantly.

There was a jerking sensation, followed by darkness. His mortal eyes snapped open, and light beamed into his vision as his field merged with his body once again. The flames roared out of his body and seared his wounds shut as the binds around him burned away and snapped off. His mind was filled with information all at once as everything screamed errors, only for the hammering in his ears to drown it all out.

The Alicorn scientists had fled the room, Destiny as well. Death stood farther off to the side, no longer looking to her list.

“This is above my paygrade.” She sighed and rolled up her list.

Hammer Strike was losing himself again. Anger and pain flooded his mind as he lashed out at anything and everything near him until he finally started to pound at the door keeping him locked away. Electricity arced off his neck as they tried using the leash. He was in agony, but every part of him was quite literally fighting for his life.

After a few well-placed blows, the door burst open, and he forced himself out of the room. He saw red as he lashed out at the nearby scientists before too much electricity flooded his body, and his limbs went numb. He hit the ground with a heavy thud before several darts were applied to him from a range, sedating him.

Hammer Strike’s breathing was jittery as he came to in his cell. His pain was still present from the operation, but he didn’t have the luxury of any form of pain relief. He shuddered to himself. “Body is in correct alignment. N-nothing out of place, from what I can tell. Perhaps the issue is due to the quick patchwork nature of my healing,” he muttered, trying to think of anything else.

“Work involved internal structure, my skeleton in particular. Unsure of the process or what was done. Probability of something wrong being in the range of twenty to thirty-five percent…”

He shuddered.

“I can’t keep this up,” he finished, sighing. “Too many unknowns. Too many situations that bring me close to death.”

“You’re alive.” The whisper was explosive, filled with that hint of desperation that leaves a mist of relief in its wake. “Thank Faust.”

As much as Hammer Strike wanted to shift and put himself on guard, he couldn’t bring himself to. He was in too much pain for sudden shifts, so instead he looked over to the observation window to find a familiar Alicorn once more.

“I don’t have much time. They’ll be watching my movements,” she said. “I have to make this seem as impassive as possible, but I had to see you.” His ears heard the distinct tapping of keys followed by the digital tone of some sort of process. “That should keep them from hearing us, though it won’t last long.”

Hammer Strike squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out what this Alicorn was after. She disabled their audio systems? For what reason would she have, unless… “Probability of trap, twenty percent,” he muttered to himself.

“I can’t free you, so there’s no chance of me setting a trap, regardless.” She sighed. “I’ve reviewed your file, seen what they … what we’ve done. I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try to convince the scientists to back off on the surgeries. You’re right about one thing. Your body can’t take much more.” Again, the rapid tapping. “Look, my time is almost up, but there’s one more thing I’d like to ask you. That is, … if you’re willing to let me.”

He couldn’t fully comprehend what she was after. Was this some other kind of test on him, psychological in nature? His eyes shifted from left to right as he scanned the room once again before settling on her once more with a raised brow.

“Who are you? What’s your real name?”

“...Group eight, subject twenty?”

“Damn it, you know that’s not what I mean,” she hissed.

While Hammer Strike was wary of her, he frowned and decided it couldn’t come back at him in a negative way. “... Hammer Strike.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back, Hammer Strike. And to return the token, my name is Terra, Terra Galaxia. Until next time.” The clatter of her retreating hoofbeats soon faded away the farther she ran from the observation glass.

The name felt important for some reason, but it escaped Hammer Strike why. Though, it was honestly the first time he had really heard an Alicorn’s name, whether it was real or not. He frowned to himself once more as he tried to contemplate why she was acting this way.

“Probability of trap … five percent?” he muttered, uncertain for the first time in a very long time.

“Is there really no way at all to reach out to him? Surely, there must be some means of communication at the very least, if you can’t take us there directly,” Rarity pleaded with the brown stallion as he laid on a wheeled board and fiddled with his hooves under the console.

“That's not how this technology works,” the Doctor explained.

“Why not?” She stamped her hoof. “If it can do all these other amazing things, punch holes through dimensions, survive in these … worm holes, then why can’t it have a device capable of at least transmitting a message?”

“Because it’s not magic!” the doctor looked upon Rarity with not the full force of his glare, but a good deal of it. “What we’re seeing has already happened. It’s the past. In order to communicate with it, we'd need to be behind it, which we cannot do for enough time to make a difference. The only other way we could contact him would require him to call us first, and while I’m not convinced the Alicorns didn’t have what he’d need, I am certain they’re not going to let him get ahold of it.”

Rarity’s lip trembled as she struggled to hold back the imminent breakdown. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.”

A fluffy gray wing laid over Rarity’s back like a blanket as Derpy stood next to her. “I know it’s hard to watch.” She nuzzled her. “I had to watch my daddy die. I didn’t have friends to watch with me or help me then.” A purple wing soon joined from the other side. “At least Twilight and I can do that for you. And on the bright side, he’ll make it through this. We know he does, and he’ll be so happy to see you again when we finally do see him.”

Rarity clutched to Derpy’s shoulder and broke down in jerking sobs. “When will it end? I can’t … I can’t….” The rest was lost as a flood of tears cascaded in jets from either eye.

“And there’s the purge,” Vital whispered to his friends as he levitated a tool box to the waiting Doctor’s extended hoof.

“You know, Rarity, as bad as you feel, think about Celestia and Luna,” Grif stated.

“A cliche as old as time and still applicable in any era.” Vital sighed. “Fate, prophecy, fixed points, whatever you want to call it. Some things have to happen for the proper future to form. The guilt and anxiety those two are carrying around must be enormous.”

“All this, and he hasn't even met them yet,” Grif agreed.

“But such is the burden of leadership at times.” Pensword shook his head and scrunched his face in distaste. “It’s an aspect I don’t look forward to reliving.”

“Hammer Strike’s a warrior.” Grif patted the mare’s back reassuringly. “He’ll get through this.”

This brought on another fresh bout of waterworks at the Mare’s appreciation for the party’s sympathy and understanding.

“Um, should I maybe … get a couple of buckets or something?” Vital asked.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. His cell was darkened, meaning night had finally fallen on the empire once more. “Probability of tests are still within eighty percent. Why did she t-try to assure me that I’d be fine?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” he continued. “No Alicorn shows compassion. Nothing they’ve done had led me to believe that statistic.” He frowned. “But why is she asking such strange questions?”

He shook his head slowly. “Doesn’t make sense. My name? Why ask for something so simple, while they already have a designation for me? Group Eight, Subject Twenty. That’s what I am to them. It’s w-what I’ll always be to them.” He looked up to find himself staring face to face with himself.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” he responded.

“Probability of death increasing, mental stress is too much.”

“What do I do?”

His heart rate began increasing as he conversed with himself, his breathing slowly increasing in speed. “What do I do?”

“What I can.”

“Do what I always can do.”

“Suffer through it, live through it in spite of them.” He laid down on the floor.

“Live through the pain.”

“Suffer through it.”

“No hope.”

“What do I do?” he finished, placing his hooves over his ears as he fell silent.

“How is he?” Terra asked the technicians as she entered the observation deck.

“The subject appears to have retracted into itself. Its mind is likely approaching the point of a memory lock caused by a data loop from one of his implants.”

“Or you just broke him.”

“That is also a possibility we’ve noted,” the technician said.

Terra rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. Have any of you actually tried asking the subject directly about his history, his origins?”

“Why should it matter?”

“Because clearly, he’s been exposed to powerful magics that we have yet to comprehend. An in-depth analysis of his past might give us vital clues in that regard.” She sputtered and tossed her mane in frustration. “I’m surrounded by idiots. I’m going down there. Call the guards if you want.” She bowled her way past the stunned technician and his fellows and strode purposefully to the doors, where she met the guards waiting in power armor. She flashed her clearance. “Terra Galaxia. I’m here to interrogate the subject.”

“No one enters, Ma’am. Orders come straight from the top.”

“I understand the classification for testing, but we have yet to see how the subject will react to a different form of stimuli. I assure you, no harm will come to me, and the visit will be exceptionally short. This is merely a formality to see the extent of the subject’s mental capacity and if it’s still capable of receiving input. A few short questions and I’ll be done.”

“Ma’am.”

“I’ll explain to the council myself after I get my findings. Now move aside. You don’t want to see what happens to an Alicorn who gets in the way of my research.” A wicked grin spread over her face. “Why else do you think I was chosen to work under Doctor Bright and Doctor Wile in the first place?”

The guards gulped as they looked nervously between themselves and shuffled aside.

“Good. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The teeth retracted behind her lips, and her smile became far more pleasant. “Be back in a few.” She strolled through the doors and waited for them to shut behind her. It was the first time she had been in the same room with the stallion. She winced at the sight. The skin was drawn so tightly over his frame as to look practically translucent, or it would have, were it not for his fur. Were it not for her careful study of his file, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the implant cables and the veins that stood rigidly out from his body. His jaw seemed to be perpetually clenched as the occasional questioning mutter or statistic would pass his lips.

His eyes roamed left and right, seemingly not acknowledging her presence. Light pulsed softly as they directed power to other parts of his body.

“All right, let’s do this quickly and efficiently,” Terra said. Her horn flashed and the pair were surrounded by a thin veil of colorful magic. “We can speak freely now. They won’t hear what we’re saying. Can you hear me, Hammer Strike?” she asked.

His eyes suddenly lit up as his attention snapped over to her. After a second, he scanned the room over a few times before looking back at her. He didn’t say a word.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just listen. I have a plan to get you out of here.”

Hammer Strike’s expression shifted to confusion as he looked around again. It didn’t make sense to him.

“Look, I’m not claiming to be innocent in all this, but you’re the first subject in Alicorn history to have lived this long and endured these conditions without breaking down. It’s literally a miracle. It’s also a compelling case for people like me, … and Doctor Bright. You didn’t deserve this. I can’t free all of your Pony friends, but I can at least get you out of here, assuming I can get the council to approve my plan.”

“...You aren’t making sense.” Hammer Strike shook his head.

“Change of heart, awakening, revelation, call it what you want. It amounts to the same thing in the end. Our way of doing things, … it’s wrong. I can’t alter our laws, but I can at least help ease some of the suffering you’ve been forced to endure.” She turned back to the cell doors. “The next time you see me, you’ll be walking out of here.” Her brows furrowed together menacingly as the magic faded and the space returned to normal. “I swear it.”

The hall was suspiciously empty when she left, most likely as a result of the need to report, though it seemed odd that the relays in their helmets wouldn’t have allowed them to communicate with their commanding officers about her play. Perhaps they were going to get reinforcements. “Well, I’m not about to stand around and wait for that.” She shook her head and strode purposefully down the hall and out the building.

Rather than allow the council the chance to apprehend her, Terra decided to take the offensive and trot to the center of town, where the council and its various members awaited. The mare chose the direct course, taking a play from her father’s book by walking past guard and denizen alike. Neither power armor nor officious titles would spur her. Better to get the authorization straight from the horse’s mouth, as it were, with the highest authority possible.

The council chamber was round with a vaulted ceiling that curved to a single point high above. The floor had been synthesized to take on a design not unlike black marble laced with gold. A massive pentacle formed the core of the room. A grand table had been set in its center, with five chairs stationed in each of the star’s points to represent the aspect of the Alicorn’s office and power. The Ponies each gaped in astonishment at her as the holographic projection over the council table ran. Finally, one of them had the sense to dismiss the image while Terra strode confidently toward her target.

“Councilman Industria, members of the council, I apologize for my rudeness, but this couldn’t wait, and I wanted to get to the highest authority to cut through as much red tape as possible.”

The charcoal stallion raised a curious brow at the interloper, then glanced at his fellow members. “The council is always willing to hear from the Galaxias. What is it that could be of such great import as to require disrupting our latest war council?”

“I’ll be blunt with you. I want authorization to take Subject Eight-Twenty into my care, or rather the care of my family.”

“Out of the question,” Industria said simply.

“You didn’t let me finish. To put it simply, the creature shows evidence of advanced intelligence unlike those of the other subjects. It has also demonstrated feats that are well beyond the average capabilities of its fellows, including defying death itself without necromancy or any other magical means on record. Its implants have also provided it with a unique capability to process large amounts of data and learn on an augmented scale. In order to gain a full understanding of how it and its mods work, the best way to move the experiment forward is to give Eight-Twenty a chance to interact with stimuli other than pain and isolation.”

“The risk is still too high.”

“Are you suggesting that my family is incapable of subduing the subject on our own?”

“Given the fact it destroyed more than a dozen Alicorns bred specifically for the purpose of combat, yes,” an elderly stallion said. His mane was silvery-white, and his fur a dull gray. Rich hazel eyes stared impassively at her. “If it decides to escape, there is no chance that you or your father would be able to defeat it in combat. And then there’s the proximity to the weapon to consider.”

“A weapon that hasn’t been called even once since the last incident,” Terra countered. “The very definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over and expecting a different result. We have been constantly putting subject Eight-Twenty’s body and mind under increasing stress to the point of nearly breaking him. You’ve seen the results of those efforts when he actually has snapped. Given the fact that we still haven’t found a means to kill him, why not allow me to try this alternative? If we fail, the responsibility can fall upon me and the family name that you all seem to despise so much. And if I succeed, then it grants us more valuable data about the subject’s capabilities and how we might replicate them. I believe that is what you would call a win-win. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Your father agrees with you, and is willing to put his own reputation on this?” one of the other members asked.

“Surely, the council already knows that,” Terra countered. “Need you ask?”

“I say we allow it,” the council member said, smiling greedily.

“Such action seems a foolhardy measure without at least some form of caution,” the fourth member, a purple-red mare with blood-colored feathers pressed.

“Then allow me to choose those who will be his keepers. Caution will be met while still keeping the subject comfortable.”

“You will provide us a list?”

“Naturally.”

“... It is acceptable,” she finally conceded.

Industria sighed. “And you will provide us a proper analysis of the creature?”

“Along with any other notable developments.”

“Very well,” he said tiredly. “But realize that this is only to be a temporary measure, Miss Galaxia. It’s not a pet. It’s a subject for scientific study. We trust you will remember that objectivity at all times.”

“Then it appears that the vote is already cast,” the elderly stallion said, then chuckled. “Subject Eight-Twenty is to be remanded into the care of House Galaxia under the watch of a designated list of guardians that shall be certified hereafter in submission to the council for the sake of record.”

“A record that I assume you intend to keep sealed?” Terra pressed.

“Naturally.”

“Good. The less that know about this, the better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some preparations to make.”

“It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. “What is she planning? None of her actions make sense.”

What was she doing? She was “trying to help him.” That just wasn’t how things worked here. She had to have some ulterior motive. There was no way around it. But he couldn’t think of anything she’d get out of “releasing” him. Unless they planned on releasing him to a different facility.

“Chance of movement to different facility, twenty-five percent,” he frowned. “Only twenty-five. That doesn’t feel right.”

The doors slid open again and the sound of many hooves rapped over the floor. Another test, another transfer, or maybe they were taking him to the yard again. “Hammer Strike.” Again, the name. “Hammer Strike, can you walk?”

He looked to Terra once more. Nothing made sense to him about her actions. After a moment, he stood up wordlessly.

“We’re getting you out of here,” she whispered. “I need you to stay calm, though, at least until we get away from this building.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” he muttered to himself once again as he moved to follow.

The halls stretched on, but unlike the dreaded passages that had been burned into his memories, these carried the scent of fresh air, rather than the stale sterility he had endured for the last seven years. Murmurs and the occasional hum of machinery left the Pony tensing his muscles and clenching his jaw.

“Almost there,” Terra whispered. “We’re about to see an increase in activity. More Alicorns. Don’t be alarmed. They’ll let us pass, though some may try to test you. Don’t rise to their bait.”

“Relocation, additional tests, non-hostile, probability of injury to self being at twenty percent,” Hammer Strike continued to mutter.

“They’d better keep it at zero, if they know what’s good for them,” she growled. At last, the pair emerged into a broad open space lit by sunlight filtered through an opening of pure quartz or something similar to it. Veins of metal arched upward to create supporting structures. The low hum of energy running through hidden conduits passed like static in his ears. “We’re about to enter the city proper. I just need to present the authorization to the desk and we’ll get you someplace more comfortable.”

The checkout was exceptionally speedy. It likely helped that Terra glowered at just about anyone who tried to interfere with enough ferocity to start their manes smoking. Then, at long last, the doors opened to reveal the full light of a dazzling afternoon sun. The buildings were an artistic blend of metal and stone that wove together to create intricate patterns and sculpture pieces to decorate the walls and provide a certain amount of appeal to passers by. Sigils, wards, and various other magical enchantments were enhanced by the seamless integration of technology. Security cameras, scanners, detectors, and various other paraphernalia sprouted almost out of thin air, or so it seemed. In the distance, he could just make out a circular plaza of sorts dotted with various statues that formed a perimeter within the main circle’s perimeter. Among them, he noted a double helix and what appeared to be a projection of some Pony at work with a chemical beaker of some kind. Whatever the others may have been remained a mystery as other Alicorns milled around the entrance. The metal along the walkway reflected the sun to give the impression of an almost divine radiance.

“Different, stable, partially controlled environment, lack of guards for facility relocation, guards attempting to keep watch nearby.” Hammer Strike continued to glance around. “Not enough variables…. Where am I being relocated to?”

“A place that should hopefully feel more like a home and less like a prison cell.”

Hammer Strike’s brow furrowed at the thought. “Fifty percent chance at light containment facility,” he muttered in thought.

“Light in the fact that you’re considered in my custody, yes,” she agreed. “And the fact I assume you probably want to avoid interacting with many Alicorns right now, which means laying low of necessity.”

“...Doesn’t make sense,” he continued to mutter to himself before rubbing his head.

“Residential district,” Hammer Strike noted to himself. “Lacks proper containment facilities, even light containment facilities.” He seemed lost in thought as he muttered. “Not enough information to make sense of it.”

It was at this point that the two of them stopped in front of a moderately sized building. Unlike the majority of its fellows, this one entertained a more artistic style. The front was lined by a series of columns, each crafted from a unique mineral. Farther inside the property, a small garden was maintained in tidy rows surrounding a birdbath that had been dug into a stone anvil. A magic circle had been crafted in gem and metal surrounding the garden to provide extra nutrition, light, water, and other basic necessities as circumstances required to protect and flourish it. A greenhouse sat off to the side, filled with all manner of vegetation that could only just be glimpsed through foggy panes.

The house was covered in a series of floral vines and decorative bushes that mingled with the metal, stone, and wood of the structure to create a delicate balance between the natural and the artificial.

“What do you think?” Terra asked.

“I-it ... it’s a house?” Hammer Strike was completely lost to the situation. “Structurally, it’s quite sound from appearance sake, materials match well with each other, and additional materials and food can come from the greenhouse, despite weather patterns. Probability of natural damage to the house is somewhere in the five to ten percent range over the course of a hundred years. The magic circuit runs at approximately eighty-five percent efficiency. Place doesn’t appear to be any form of light containment facility.”

“How about I give you the tour?” she suggested.

“I … don’t understand.” He frowned. “I ... am not being relocated to a facility?”

“Well, I suppose I do technically have an office here,” Terra conceded. “Though aside from that, I’m not sure if you could call it a facility.”

“I d-don’t get it.” Hammer Strike rubbed his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I’m not being relocated to a facility, but a house? There are additional tests in play. There have to be. It is never that simple.”

“No tests, no surgeries, no caveats, no probes, no shock collars or sedation. So long as you can control yourself and behave, you’ll never have to worry about any of those again.”

“It’s … over?”

Terra smiled. “Why else do you think I would bring you to my house?”

“Statistics indicate this could be a test, false house, in an attempt to gauge response from myself following structural points or to study myself in an open environment t-that is under heavy surveillance,” Hammer Strike replied as his eyes roamed around once again.

“I can’t vouch on the heavy surveillance, since our home is watched on a regular basis by those who are in power, but no such surveillance will be mine, and no such devices will exist on my property, save the bare essentials that are required for my scientific research and my mate’s.”

Hammer Strike went silent as he thought over everything. After a moment, he finally looked up to the sky and looked it over a few times. “This is … really happening? Solar energy dictates I’m outside.” He continued to mutter analytics to himself before growing silent once more.

“So, about that tour?”

“I, uh. Yes.” He paused for a second. “Please.”

The gardens and greenhouse came first and foremost. Bananas, coconuts, mangos, pineapple, and other plants towered in the space, and the air smelled of fresh rain and soft earth. As a horticulturist and overall plant biologist, she was able to demonstrate a number of new hybrids and methods to increase potency, number, and overall quality of crops and ingredients while seeking to either immunize against negative conditions or speed up harvest times. The significance of the anvil came soon after as the mare explained of her family’s unique status and privilege in the empire as a legacy from the empire’s earlier days.

The interior of the house was a mess of scattered notes and tomes mingled with toys and a series of paintings that remained intact. A series of crystals jutted up from a surface that had been molded out of the wall. They pulsed with energy, waiting to be activated. The kitchen was what one would expect, though the structure was again of an alloy not unlike crystal that was hard as metal, if not harder.

Bedrooms, workshops, bathrooms, and other facilities were also included, along with explanations for how certain aspects of their technology worked for Hammer Strike’s benefit and general convenience. Finally, they reached the last door, where the sound of a child’s giggle seeped through the crack.

“And since you are going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future, it’s only right that I introduce you to my family. My husband is still at work, but my daughter will surely love meeting you.” She smiled and opened the door to reveal an impossibility. A broad meadow stretched as far as the eye could see. Flawless white flowers sprouted and bloomed over rocks and crags as snowy peaks stretched on in the distance, obscured in part by great clouds of mist. A young white filly lay on the grass looking over a tablet and swiping the screen with her hoof idly.

“Guess who’s home,” Terra sang.

The filly’s head darted in the direction of the call. Her lush pink locks flapped to the side as she ran into her mother’s forelegs and wrapped her own around Terra’s hoof, then her neck as her mother picked her up. “Mommy!” she cheered in her native tongue.

Terra laughed. “Yes, I’m here. And I’ve brought a friend along with me.” She gestured over to the scarred Earth Pony. “Celestia, this is Hammer Strike. He’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”

Celestia frowned as she looked over the marks on the Earth Pony’s body. “What happened to his wings and horn? Did somebody take them?”

Hammer Strike chuckled gently. “No, I simply decided I didn’t need them.”

Terra gaped at the Pony. “When did…?”

Hammer Strike glanced up to Terra, only for him to realize his mistake. He frowned and sighed.

She smiled and slowly lowered the filly to the ground. “I need to finish giving our guest a tour of the house. Finish your homework and I’ll have a treat waiting for you in the kitchen, all right?”

Celestia grinned. “Okay, Mommy.”

It didn’t take long for her to be absorbed in her tablet again, and Terra led her guest back into the halls. “Just how much do you understand, Hammer Strike?” she asked seriously.

Hammer Strike looked to her before sighing. “I’ve known the language longer than I’ve been contained here.”

“I’ve been told you were brought here through a time window that was meant to allow us a glimpse into our future. Does this mean that you are a descendant of the empire?”

“No,” Hammer Strike replied harshly before calming himself. “This empire, sometime in the future, was laid to waste. For the better, from what I’ve seen,” he finished with a frown before he sighed once again. “I … I mean nothing against you, but all I’ve seen since I’ve been here is torment and suffering.”

Terra frowned. “And you’ve no idea when in the future the destruction will happen?”

“Negative.” He frowned. “I’m sorry to have deceived you, but I’m sure you understand my reasoning. Doesn’t help they implanted a translation chip with everything, ‘except for Alicorn. Its brain wouldn’t be able to comprehend it, anyway,’” he recited.

“Just how much data have you been parsing?”

“Everything. I can break down the items around us in terms of materials and potential locations of finding the substances based off climates and geological locations. I can tell you the percentage chance of practically anything, once I have enough information. I can predict your movement before even you know what you’re going to do.” He placed a hoof on his head. “It’s so loud and constant, I can never escape it. I don’t sleep, I barely eat, so I never get a break from it.”

Terra sighed as she led him back to one of the spare rooms. “I was afraid you might say that.” The door opened to a simple white space with a trio of windows that flooded the room with light. A metal bed frame sat against the wall with a fresh pillow, mattress, and clean sheets. A desk sat across from the bed. “It’s not much, but it’s a space that you can call your own for so long as you stay here, provided it’s kept reasonably clean.”

“I…” he looked around once again. “I haven’t had a bed in years. Haven’t used a bed in longer....”

“Then I hope this will prove a welcome change.” She frowned, then forced her face into a neutral mask.

“It’s m-more than I could ask for.” Hammer Strike gave a subtle twitch.

“Are you all right?”

“Better than usual,” Hammer Strike offered with a shrug.

“There is one very important thing, though, Hammer Strike. You’re under my care. So, if anything goes wrong, you need to tell me as soon as possible, so we can help you.”

“Unless you have a simple solution to clear my head, I’m as good as I can be, to be honest.”

“Well, we do have a solution, and the procedure is simple, but … I doubt you would want to go through with it.”

“Process dictates that it isn’t removing them. Too close to the brain and too ingrained, I would assume.” Hammer Strike frowned. “What would it be?”

“Surgery. A simple one, but a surgery all the same.”

Hammer Strike shuddered. “No. Never again. Please.”

“I thought that was what you might say.” She sighed and shook her head. “We won’t make you, but you should know that insanity in your mind will continue to build for the rest of your days without its help.”

“I can’t. Every part of me is screaming that if I go through another surgery, I won’t come out of it fine.”

“Then we’ll have to keep an eye on you. Nothing extreme, more of a check-in, I suppose, where we’ll ask how you’re faring in casual conversation. If nothing gets serious, there won’t be any need for anything else. Does that sound fair to you?”

Hammer Strike simply nodded in return. After a second of silence, his ear twitched. “Movement, average Alicorn size, based off distance between steps. Not wearing heavy equipment. Approximately five seconds from the door.”

“Honey?” a male voice spoke as the door opened. In walked a tall but slightly gangly Alicorn stallion. His fur was a deep purple, almost blue, with a mane and tail of a surprisingly light green that almost seemed ethereal and swaying in its own right. His mark seemed to be several tools Hammer Strike couldn’t identify working on a DNA strand. He stopped, looking at his wife, then at Hammer Strike, slightly confused.

“Hammer Strike, this is my husband, Tempus. Tempus, this is Hammer Strike. He’ll be our guest for the foreseeable future.”

“I see…” Tempus said. “I trust you’ll explain in more detail later?”

“Naturally.” She smiled. “Now how about I see about fixing us a little dinner? Who wants fruit salad?”

Hammer Strike, at this point, was staring blankly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I haven’t eaten anything other than … whatever it was they served to test subjects. Even then, I only ate once a week or so, though they tried to feed me three times a week.”

“Well here, you’re getting the same as anyone else, three square meals a day. Though we may need to work you back up to that over time, given how your digestive tract has likely adapted.”

Hammer Strike stared into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.

The night sky was cool and clear as Terra strode out of the house with husband in tow. Celestia had already been put to bed, and their new guest had been left to his own devices while the two took in the night air. The stars shone brightly above their heads as the gentle crash of the sea filtered through their ears.

“All right, Tempus, I’m ready to answer your questions now.”

“Let's start with a general explanation of the situation and work from there.”

“He’s a Pony from the distant future where, apparently, we are no longer a civilization. He’s been systematically tortured and starved for the last seven years. I can show you his file, if you like, but that would remove any plausible deniability you might want to keep for Celestia’s sake, if this blows up in my face.”

“You talked to your father about this?”

“I told him that I would introduce him later.”

“Who else is in on this?”

“The one who showed me all this in the first place.”

“What exactly are you planning?”

“For the moment? Rehabilitation. As for what comes next, I’m not entirely certain. I’ll need to study it out, come up with a plan.”

“How many augments have they used on him?”

“Roughly twenty. And I have no idea which ones are still functional. Several were experimental and not above water.”

Tempus let out a low whistle. “It’s amazing he’s still able to walk straight.”

“It’s amazing he’s even able to walk at all. By all accounts, he should be dead. He did die once, actually.”

“What model of stabilizer did they use?”

“They didn’t,” she said bleakly.

Tempus seemed bothered by that. “That goes against the ethical guidelines.”

“Apparently not. He’s not the only one. He’s just the only one to survive.” Her body shook, but not from cold. “This whole thing makes me sick.”

“Well, have you thought about asking … her?” he asked.

Terra shook her head. “Wouldn’t do any good. He’s traumatized. Even the mention of surgery puts him on edge, and you don’t want him to snap. He’s killed over a dozen guards over the last seven years. He’s not dangerous to us, just to abuse. Treat him as an equal and he’ll be fine.”

“I hope you know what you're doing,” he said.

“It’s the right thing, regardless. If I tried to locate him anywhere else, the council would probably try to kill him.” She frowned. “Though there is still one piece of the puzzle I find confusing.”

“And that is?”

“He speaks our language fluently. The implants were deliberately designed without translation protocols for it. He claims to have known it beforehand, but he won’t say more.”

“If he comes from the future, maybe our language is more widespread?”

“I suppose it is a possibility,” she conceded. “But the odds don’t seem likely unless we abandoned the island in his time and spread along the mainland.”

“So, what now?”

“We gain his trust, wait, live like we normally do, and feed bread crumbs to keep the council and anyone else off our backs in the meanwhile.”

“Very well.” Tempus nuzzled her gently. “One step at a time.”

Terra sighed and leaned into her husband. “Thank you.”

Hammer Strike stared outside the window in his room. It was a strange sensation. He wasn’t at the mercy of a testing schedule, apart from Terra giving him a check up every now and then. He knew it was to make sure he was fine, but the best he could offer was a simple shrug in return.

He didn’t feel normal. He didn’t even feel right, but he couldn’t go through the potential surgery anymore. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

He was at least physically starting to feel better. Above average food and access to actual sunlight and solar energy was certainly improving his physical condition. A look in the mirror showed him that much.

He still had the problem of his stutters and his lapses of anger, which certainly made things difficult at times when he was around a child and two individuals that would move around in different formats than he was used to.

It was difficult to keep himself rooted in the present, but it was worth it so far. He was actually enjoying himself, for a change. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was more comfortable than the constant tests. He still had lingering moments of doubt on whether or not this was happening, but managed to confirm it with himself.

He didn’t do much in the house, and he certainly didn’t explore outside the house, as that would only lead to trouble with no doubt in his mind. If there was something constructive he could do, he’d be able to work on something. Perhaps he could ask Terra for a notebook and something to write with. Though he would have to limit what he would put in it. While their written language was different, he wasn’t sure on how long it would take for them to decipher his work.

Based off the movement he heard in the house, it sounded as though they were all home. He’d have to ask when they were available. After a moment, he stepped outside of his room and looked around once more. Terra was currently in her office, tapping away at her tablet, and Tempus was in their living room, swiping away at his tablet. It didn’t take long for Tempus to notice him.

“Sorry.” Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head, thinking he had alerted Tempus in some manner. “Still unable to f-fully understand this situation. Too many unknown variables.”

“What do you need clarified?” he asked.

“Nothing I can describe in words at the moment.” He shook his head. “I’m just not used to this yet. My scheduling is thrown off. Today would have been scheduled with additional testing outside of surgery, most likely another endurance t-test after the situation of the last surgery.”

“I see. They gave you that one.” tempus sighed.

“That one?”

“Has Terra explained what my job is?” he asked.

“Negative.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Mark dictates it involves the field of biology. Tools dictate some modification or alteration to it involving equipment.”

“I work on developing modifications to cover where our biology fails. Modifications that weren’t intended to be used on non-alicorns.”

Hammer Strike gave a subtle twitch. “In either case, they work on non-alicorns, at least myself.”

“One of these modifications was to allow less hindered thought processes inside the brain,” Tempus continued. “However, unstabilized, it’s highly dangerous for Alicorns, nevermind Ponies.”

“Definition dictates you’re talking about the mental enhancer, or overclock as it has been designated,” Hammer Strike replied. “I lean toward agreeing with you on it’s instability. Approximately with a sixty-four percent chance of failure if left on it’s own, or compound with additional augments.”

“And you have a lot of additional augments,” Tempus nodded. “It’s amazing you haven’t fallen into a coma.”

“Instead, I am subject to every waking moment of my life in the form of a constant thought process, much like a run-on sentence that goes on … indefinitely.” Hammer Strike shuddered. “A constant noise, much like static.”

“I’m sorry,” tempus offered. “That was never my intention.”

“Information leans toward that it was never within your control,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “I hold no ill will toward yourself or your family, but I can’t help myself sometimes. The rest of your kind are… too curious for their own good.” His voice dropped in tone.

“Too far from the ancients,” Tempus added with a dry and mirthless chuckle.

“Changing subject; would it be in the realm of possibility to obtain something to write with and on, such as a notebook and pen, or pencil, or quill, or anything of the sort?”

“I can get that for you.” tempus nodded. “But it may take some time.”

“I appreciate it.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “I will return to … my room. To avoid getting in the way of anyone.” he finished, turning back toward the room provided to him.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Hammer Strike replied as he entered his room and closed the door once more.

Hammer Strike was very puzzled.

He was currently watching over Celestia, who was a six or seven-year-old filly, a drastic difference from his present day.

While he may find his guard down somewhat around children, this situation proved to have so many different variables running through his head, he barely knew what to do. That and reining in his impulses left him with some odd feelings.

“Mister Strike, everyone I know has some sort of job they do. And I saw your mark. It reminds me of Grandpa. Are you a blacksmith, like he is?”

“I also can mess with carpentry, though I am primarily a blacksmith, yes.”

“Are you one of Grandpa’s friends, then?”

“No, I’m not, sadly.” He gave a soft smile. ”I don’t know many Alicorns out here.”

“How come?”

“I…” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought over his words. ”They don’t want to interact with me much.”

Celestia frowned. “Why? You’re fun, and you’re really smart. You do math and science so easily.” The frown quickly became a pout. “I wish I could think that fast.”

“One day, I’m sure you will.” Hammer Strike smiled gently, thankful for a shift in topic. “I’m sure you’ll get quite far.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

Hammer Strike’s smile faltered. “I can try, but I don’t know too much on what they’ll want to teach you.”

“Then teach me something you know. Mommy says I should always try new things, anyway.”

Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll discuss it with your mother and figure out what I can, okay?”

Celestia fixed him with wide sparkling eyes. “You promise?”

“I promise.” His smile returned.

“So, what do we play now?”

“Whatever you want that I can manage.”

“Glamour seek?”

“I don’t think I know that one.”

Celestia grinned.

“Abnormality.” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked to Terra and Tempus. “Preparations are being made for a number greater than our current collection.”

“That’s because we have a guest on his way,” Terra said matter-of-factly.

“Additional alicorn. Based off pattern, it’s a singular individual of differing size.”

“An astute observation,” Terra said.

“Grandpa’s coming for a visit!” Celestia practically squealed with delight.

“Grandfather, one of your parents, not enough information to decipher, but my guess would be your father, Terra, as you have been responding to my questions about said individual.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself.

“Indeed. We thought that after all this time, it might be nice for you to meet someone else in our social circle. And, given my family’s unique history and trade, we thought you and he would likely get along without difficulty.”

“Craftstallion of some kind?”

Terra smiled. “Let’s just say there’s a reason we have an anvil for a birdbath.”

“Blacksmith,” Hammer Strike hummed. “The grandfather Celestia mentioned, then. Strange trade in your current environment, but still within the realm of usefulness.”

“I’ll let him explain it when he gets here. It will give you two something to talk about.”

“Won’t take long. I can hear movement coming closer to the house, heavy steps, spacing dictates they’re taller,” Hammer Strike noted. “Approximately ten seconds till he’s at the door.”

Exactly ten seconds after he finished his sentence, there was a sturdy knock at the door.

Terra soon returned with her father in tow. “Hammer Strike, allow me to introduce my father, Andre Galaxia. Father, this is Hammer Strike.”

“So, he’s the one.” Andre looked over Hammer Strike. “Not quite what I was expecting.”

“Expectations ran higher or lower?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud.

“Higher, but I don’t doubt the reports on you,” Andre held out a hoof. “Well met.”

Hammer Strike returned the hoof shake with a hint of uncertainty. “A pleasure.”

“Andre is one of the rare unmodified members of our race,” Tempus explained quietly.

“Older member as well,” Hammer Strike replied automatically. “With age comes respect, and in a society such as this, it shows.”

“Oi,” Andre gave a faint chuckle. “I’m still here, you know.”

“I know.”

A pink-streaked white blur barreled into the smith’s chest and didn’t even budge him, though a familiar smile beamed at the Alicorn’s gaze. “Grandpa!” Celestia giggled as she continued to cling to the stallion.

Andre smiled as he returned the hug. “I was wondering when you were going to spring.” He chuckled as he lowered her back to the ground. “How have you been?”

“Good. Hammer Strike’s been a lot of fun. He even helped me with some of my homework.”

“Has he now?” Andre looked to Hammer Strike. “Putting that mind and mods to good use, then?”

“As effectively as possible,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“Glad to see everyone getting along. Now how about you all get to the table, so I can serve dinner?” Terra asked pointedly.

The four quickly made their way to the table and claimed their seats while Terra entered with the first course. “Spinach puffs, an excellent way to start a meal.” She levitated five to each plate and left the platter in the middle, then joined her family. “Entree should be finished in the next ten minutes, so dig in.”

The rest of the meal consisted of quiche and a cream pie using a variety of tropical fruits from the greenhouse. When the family had finished the meal, they adjourned to the living room to further the interaction between the two smiths.

“So, since you’re a smith from your kind, what’s it like? What do you make?” Andre finally questioned Hammer Strike.

“Depends on the situation,” Hammer Strike replied. “Weaponry of my time is open to all races, thus I have managed to work along all three of our races for personalized equipment. Between weighted gauntlets, I did an amulet to focus a Unicorn’s power once, and a set of wingblades for the Pegasi.”

“Wingblades?”

“Due to the nature of Pegasi and their bone structure, their form of combat is better suited in a quick fashion. Weaponry creates an extra field of energy outside of their center of mass, while blades fashioned to go along their wings work efficiently at keeping the weight close enough to not inhibit combat.”

Andre hummed for a moment. “We never really had the issue of dealing with weight for fighting in the air, but it does make sense.”

“Additionally, if adapted correctly, it gives them more focus to their surroundings than being wary of their weapon position and placement.” It was at this point that Hammer Strike noted the looks of those around him. “Sorry,” he rubbed the side of his head. “It was my work and hobby for so long, and I honestly miss it.”

“Well, I do own my own workshop,” Andre started before humming. “Terra, do you think you could drop him off sometimes on your way to work? Can’t have him wander there on his own.”

“If you don’t mind him staying until one of us can pick him up, and the extra attention from the council, I don’t see why not.”

“What’s the council going to do to me, slap my pastern for having a ‘test subject’ there? They’ll be hard pressed to try and stop me from it.”

“Well then, assuming it’s all right with Hammer Strike, I can drop him off whenever you two decide.”

Hammer Strike blinked in surprise. “W-whenever he’ll have me.”

“Drop him off in a few days. I’ve got a project I’m currently working on, and they’ll definitely have a fit if he shows up while I’m working on it.”

Terra rolled her eyes. “State secrets and all that?”

“Not really, just some ‘special’ project they want done quickly.”

“All right. Send me a message when you’re finished, and I’ll bring him by. I’m sure you two will be only too happy to discuss the efficiency of forge designs and other smith things.”

“I miss my smithing hammer,” Hammer Strike muttered.

“And this is it,” the large Alicorn said as he showed Hammer Strike into his workshop.

“Not quite what I expected,” Hammer Strike noted as he looked around the place. It was moderately sized, and held plenty of equipment both familiar and unfamiliar to him. “Expectations were of a more advanced lab like system for a forge, such as specific temperature heating furnaces and such.”

“If those in power had their say, it would be that way.” Andre chuckled as he looked around. “They don’t understand the value of working with your hooves.”

“Based off observations, it can be confirmed,” Hammer Strike replied as he looked around once more before noting an additional individual in the room. “Who do you work with?”

Andre seemed confused. “Nobody.”

“Then who—” Hammer Strike looked back, only to note a lack of an additional Alicorn in the room. He frowned to himself as he tried to recall their features, only for it to come blank. After a second, he shook his head. “Apologies. I g-guess I was wrong.”

“Now I think there is something here that you’ll wish to see.” The Alicorn led him through the workshop. “Or more appropriately, wishes to see you.” He chuckled a bit as he revealed a particularly familiar hammer sitting on a worktable.

Hammer Strike's attention was fully grabbed by the hammer as he reached a hoof out for it only to stop short. “Trick, trap, something’s not right,” he muttered. Something in his mind screamed about how it wasn’t possible. “Openly revealing my weapon, doesn’t add up.”

“You plan to do me harm with this hammer?” Andre asked him.

“Negative. No reason displayed.”

“I see no issue with letting you know where it is, then. I can't let you take it back with you at this time, but I think you both need reassurance.”

Hammer Strike took hold of Ulkrusher once more, and as comforting as the thought was, the unease still remained.

“It’s truly a work of art,” Andre noted. “I haven’t seen it’s like from outside the city before.”

Hammer Strike stared at the hammer in his hooves. His breathing became less stable as he felt a presence once again to his side. It wasn’t Andre, he knew that, and he was supposed to be alone with Andre, so who was it? It wasn’t an embodiment, it wasn’t anyone he knew, and out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw a maneless Alicorn with a beard.

As his breathing became erratic, his eyes shifted hue back to their default of red.

“Are you okay, my friend?” Andre asked. “In control of yourself?”

He couldn’t hold himself anymore, it was that scientist, that same one that had spent years tormenting him. Within an instant, Hammer Strike lashed out, swinging with a wide arc against the Alicorn, knocking him backwards. He couldn’t think straight. Everything felt so far away, but that scientist was there.

Hammer Strike continued to strike with everything he could before thaumic fire surrounded his hooves and body. There was screaming, lots of it, and he knew just what to do to that scientist. He let the fires consume the Alicorn, burn away at him until nothing would be left.

It was at this point that he felt a force hold him in place and remove Ulkrusher from his grasp. The screaming continued, on and on, until he realized it wasn’t the scientist screaming.

He was.

His breathing was erratic, there was a red glow over everything around him. Everything was wrong. He was panicking. Strapped down once again. That damned table once more. Nothing he did could break the straps holding him.

“Hammer Strike!”

He blinked. The straps weren’t there, but he was held down. What was holding him?

White magic flowed around his body, but it wasn’t white in the way most magic was, it was glowing brightly and a bit hot, like he was being held in bonds of white hot metal.

“Calm down,” Andre said. “You need to keep ahold of yourself.”

“What happened? What’s going on? Where am I?” Hammer Strike questioned quickly as he tried to rein in his breathing.

“You seemed to be reliving something, You destroyed one of my mannequins.” There was no anger in the voice, just concern.

“Mannequin?” Hammer Strike looked around, unable to find the mannequin that Andre had mentioned, only for him to realise he had destroyed it thaumically. He was fully prepared to destroy that one scientist thaumically and ruin his chances of staying out of containment.

“I think I’d best put that away for now,” Andre said as he took Ulkrusher into his telelkenetic grip.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Hammer Strike commented weakly. “I can’t. T-the loud constant static that fills my mind every waking moment. The prediction module feels like it takes over at times. I … I can’t do this.”

“I think we need to talk to Terra,” Andre said gently.

“S-she told me how there’s one thing that could help m-me.” He shuddered. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything, just please … help me.”

“There, there, my friend.” Andre set Hammer Strike free of his telekinesis gently. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

Pensword frowned as he watched the last few scenes unfold. “This isn’t good. Those implants are messing with him. At least, I hope it’s just the implants. Otherwise, we’re seeing a shell shocked Hammer Strike. Doctor, when we finally pick Hammer Strike up, you and he will probably need to talk. Please, help him, because I feel that only you can come close to understanding what is happening in his head.”

“I think you’re right.” The Doctor nodded grimly.

“Things should hopefully get a little better from here, though, right? I mean, he’s not locked up anymore. And it seems he has people who care about his well-being now,” Vital pointed out.

“I should certainly hope so. He’s been through enough,” Rarity said adamantly as she glared at the screen.

Pensword looked at the screen. “If they can keep those scientists off his back and keep him in control. What I fear is that Hammer Strike is there at the fall of the empire itself. If so, how many more friends will he lose?”

Grif let out a line of steady Gryphic. The only thing they could pick up was, “Faust.”

“Time will tell,” Vital said. “We can’t do anything but wait, watch, and hope.”

“Agreed. I pray to Faust and the Moon that Hammer Strike gets what peace he deserves.” Pensword paused as he suddenly looked to Grif and then to Rarity and Derpy. “Derpy, could, we ... maybe if the Doctor agrees, use the Tardis to give Hammer Strike time off? You know, so The Doctor and he can talk, Rarity and he can be together and heal, and you make your depression-busting muffins?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Derpy promised.

“Grif, are you … praying for him?” Twilight asked curiously.

“That wasn’t a prayer,” Grif growled. “It was a curse, one of the few things that survived from that time period for Gryphons. It doesn’t translate well, but the closest would be ‘a thousand pains on the children of Faust.’”

Twilight winced.

“Well, something certainly ended them. Your curse may not go unanswered for long,” Vital said.

Pensword found himself staring off at the wall as he sat thinking. “I agree, but I fear that the curse will harm the few good Alicorns left on the island.”

“I assume you’re speaking metaphorically, since Grif hasn’t actually invoked any magic,” Vital said.

“Grif is the Avatar of the winds. Sometimes just intent is enough to set something in motion when it comes to these kinds of things. I don’t put anything into concrete when it comes to the Avatar.”

“It’s just a cultural saying, Pensword,” Grif said. “If intent had been enough, the Alicorn Empire would have crumbled ages before any of this happened.”

“I guess I’m still my old paranoid self.” He smiled weakly. “Just … I thought the Third Gryphon War was brutal. The Alicorns make you guys look like the old guard.”

“We were better back then,” Grif said.

“Then as in Alicorn time or then as in Third Gryphon War time?” Vital asked.

“The Alicorn time.”

“And you will be again, if I’m not mistaken.” Vital smiled. “That is what you guys were partying about the other night, wasn’t it?”

“That's the hope.” Grif nodded.

“Then, at the risk of sounding cliche to the extreme, let’s hope for Hammer Strike, too. He’ll make it out all right. He has to. He’s too hardheaded not to figure out a way.”

At that moment, Rarity raced up and hugged the stallion. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then she consumed another muffin as crumbs rained on Vital’s back.

“You’re … welcome,” Vital said awkwardly.

“Is this line secure?” Terra asked as she peered at the screen.

“Darling, what do you take me for? ‘Is this line secure?’ Is this a question?” the Alicorn Terra was conversing with currently was tiny. Very tiny. Quite possibly, the filly Celestia was already taller than her. However, size of body usually quavered to size of personality when it came to this Alicorn. She had a mostly off-white coloring with a stark black mane and tail. Her mane was cut in a bowl cut, and large round black spectacles sat on her face.

“I had to be certain, Aunt E. You know how much the council’s been breathing down our necks lately.”

“Oh, yes, the council.” E rolled her eyes. “Seriously, darling, why have you called me?”

“Because I have a favor to ask, and it involves a mutual … acquaintance of ours.”

“I see,” E answered contemplatively. “Very well. Come down, darling, and let's talk. Or would you rather I send Teller down to escort you?”

“That might not be a bad idea, all things considered. I’ll be bringing a friend along as well. It will be easier to explain if he’s there.”

“Very well, darling. He’ll be on his way. See you soon!” Her face vanished.

It didn’t take Terra long to get Hammer Strike ready and gather her things. “Now, there’s something you need to know about our escort. Teller is … somewhat eccentric. He’ll talk you into the next century, if you let him. And another thing. Don’t ask him his name. There’s a powerful hex on it that no one’s been able to break. No matter what you do, something will inevitably prevent you from hearing it. Whoever placed it wanted to make sure his name would die with him.”

“That certainly explains things,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, muttering, lost in thought, can’t stop, you know what I mean.”

“Aunt E is the best in her field. It’s because of her that Teller is alive today. I’ll save the story for him to tell. The point is, if you’re serious about getting this surgery done right with the proper hooves, there are few better. And given your unique attributes, she’ll probably take an immediate liking to you.”

Hammer Strike sighed. “Unknown variables in play, main system dictates that I trust you.”

Three loud clanging knocks sounded at the door.

“And that would be him.” Terra nodded. “Are you ready to go out? You’ll need to rein in any instinct to attack, and there will be people who look at us. They probably won’t say very nice things either.”

“Latest outburst has resulted in less potent outbreaks for now. I should be able to rein in any anomalies.”

Terra took a deep breath and released it explosively, then opened the door with her magic. A towering form of metal and wiring stood before them. Teller was positively covered from head to hoof. His voice carried the muted quality of an air filtration system as the blank visor stared at the Alicorn and her guest.

“Terra. Long time no see. E said you might need an escort.”

“Thank you for coming, Tellier. Allow me to introduce my guest. This is Hammer Strike. He’ll be coming with us today for our consultation with Auntie E. Hammer Strike, this is Teller.”

“Ah the famous eight-twenty,” the mass of metal said. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you—”

Hammer Strike gave a brief twitch. “Teller, please, refrain from that designation.”

“As I said earlier, his name is Hammer Strike,” Terra stressed. “The other designation is inappropriate and … painful to him.”

“Very well,” he said. “Shall we head out?”

“Please,” Terra said. Then she motioned to the door with her wing. “After you, Hammer Strike.”

While he was wary, he settled his trust in Terra and followed behind Teller.

The trip to E’s compound was lengthy, since Teller went to the trouble of plotting a course that would allow for a minimum of interaction with any other Alicorns. However, the trio finally arrived at the entrance, where a series of incredibly potent wards and a vast security system that featured laser fencing, electrically charged traps, turrets, and all manner of technological deterrents to visitors awaited them.

“Aunt E takes pleasure in her privacy,” Terra said by way of explanation. “So she takes steps to preserve it.”

“Noted,” Hammer Strike muttered.

It didn’t take long to get inside. Teller already had the access codes and prior authorizations. E’s structure was incredibly modern in design, rich with angles and a great balcony that stretched out from the structure high above for a view of the city and the ocean that lay beyond. The internal portions of the structure were full of equally modern pieces of art, including a massive fountain that featured a bare Equine shape with a waterfall to form its robes. A great mural portrayed Sleipnir, Faust, and a third Alicorn surrounded by smaller Alicorns. Some were decked in warrior’s garb. Others appeared to wield magic to battle monsters.

A large circular black table with a clear glass center held a tray laden with a teapot, four cups, and various bowls, plates, and vessels filled with sugar, cream, and other treats best taken with the beverage. Four block-like armchairs surrounded the table. The one facing the entrance was occupied.

“Analysis dictates individual present is p-previously mentioned ‘Aunt E,’” Hammer Strike commented with a twitch.

“I see.” The diminuitive Alicorn’s voice spoke up before she rose from her chair and approached. “I think I am starting to understand the issue.”

“You’re starting to, but the whole issue is far worse.” Terra shook her head sadly. “Can we talk freely here?”

“Individual is noted to like privacy, any cameras on site are under the assumption of personal security and are disconnected from the central grid,” Hammer Strike commented once more. “Error margin of forty-three percent.”

“They didn’t stabilize him,” E said as she moved to look him over.

“I’m afraid it’s far more extensive than you may think.” Terra sighed and levitated her tablet to the mare. “Over twenty.”

“And yet, he is still able to function,” E commented, circling him. “Fascinating.”

“We need your help to stabilize him. If we don’t, it’s only a matter of time before he’s driven mad. Doctor Bright is willing to assist as well, but we’d require a facility that isn’t under the council’s watch. You’re one of the few who are able to function relatively outside the council’s influence. And so, I ask you. Will you help us? Will you help him?”

“You didn’t even have to ask, darling.” E shook her head. “Get everything together. The sooner we do this, the better.”

Terra sighed in relief. “Thank you.” She had Doctor Bright on the tablet in a matter of seconds. “We’re good to go. You know where to meet.”

The journey to the operating room was a long one through winding passages, though sped by E’s unique form of transport, a rail system designed to generate a protective field around a subject and jettison it toward the designated target along reinforced tracks designed to polarize with the energies that generated the field in the first place. By the time they reached the lab, Doctor Light was already warming up the machines. The sight of the operating table and its many restraints and tools hovering threateningly above the surface sent waves of anxiety through the Earth Pony.

“Second thoughts,” Hammer Strike muttered as he found difficulty moving toward the table.

A comforting wing draped over his back. “I’ll be here the whole time, watching and helping. No one is attacking you here, and we won’t bind you if you feel it’s unnecessary. We will have to put you under, though. Can you trust us to do this for you? Or at least trust me?”

Hammer Strike flinched at the contact. “Wary, red flags,” he muttered. “I’ll try.” he finished after a moment before moving toward the table. His breathing was unsettled as he got onto the table, and it increasingly got worse as they started to strap him down. Finally, Bright produced a needle and injected Hammer Strike once more. However, in his panicked state, it was taking time to properly affect him.

Terra looked into those eyes and was reminded only too well of her daughter. She, too, had dealt with terror and fear. And as a mother, she knew there was only one way to comfort such a child. She raised her voice, and began to sing as she stroked his mane.

While it seemed to have no effect at first, Hammer Strike appeared to be trying to focus on her through his panic. It took some time, but eventually the sedative finally took over. The light coming from his eyes dimmed as they powered down.

“That was terrible.” Terra stroked Hammer Strike’s mane one last time, then turned away. “I never thought I would see something so … desperate.” She shook her head. “How can we do this to them so … callously?”

“We are the first born.” Bright laughed dryly. “It is our inheritance.”

“Even when they show such incredible capacity for growth?” She sighed. “Perhaps … it would be better with the empire gone, after all.”

“You do understand why your father secludes himself then,” Bright said.

“I’m starting to.”

“Improvements, they called it,” E added. “Turned the entire race into little more than monsters. There is a reason I say I used to design for gods, darling. Emphasis on used.”

“Then … I suppose we’ll just have to do what we can for him.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you say, darling.” By now, E was busy staring at Hammer Strike’s horseshoes. “Ah. Now these, I haven’t seen in a very long time,” E said as she examined the shoes on his back hooves. “Far longer than most have lived.”

“His horseshoes?” Terra asked.

“You’ve heard of the Shoes of Sleipnir, correct? A gift sleipnir created for the first Earth Ponies. The council would likely do anything for these, if only to prove that the gods favor Alicorns more.”

“I thought the Alicorns weren’t able to wear them, though,” Terra said.

“Yes but we call ourselves ‘the children of Faust’, and claim to be the most favored of all the races. These relics put that claim in dispute, you see. Their very existence alone says the gods might favor others.”

“If these really are those artifacts, then how come the council hasn’t done anything about it? I would have thought they would try anything to get them.”

“Because they’re not that easy to get.” Doctor bright laughed as he took a scalpel and placed it near the back of the first joint in hammer strike’s back left leg. Immediately, the horseshoe warped and grew until it had fully armored the area.

“They … deploy armor?” Terra asked.

“Yes, and they seem to sense intent as well. It would take a lot to get them off.”

“Are you inferring that attempts were made that were erased from the system, then?”

“I’m not inferring anything. I’m saying it bluntly.”

“Why do I get the feeling I just stepped into a secret group focused around rebelling against the current system of government?”

“No darling, just a bunch of people who don’t care anymore,” E corrected.

“Is there much difference?”

“I don’t know, but we should probably get underway,” Bright noted as he brought the scalpel toward Hammer Strike’s neck and triggered the machinery to begin the procedure. “We have a leash to cut and a tumult to quiet.”

Hammer Strike groaned as he came to. He was currently within a bed of some kind, of seemingly decent quality compared to previous situations. It was a comforting note.

He blinked as he was able to take in the calm atmosphere. No static, no more noise drilling into his head. Sure, he could still feel the augments there, and he could still tell the information was flooding in, but it felt calm compared to the last seven years. He could drone it out, even, and let it fade into the background.

“Welcome back.” Terra’s voice was gentle and calm, a practiced bedside manner only nurses and mothers could seem to replicate. “How do you feel?”

“I…” Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let a small smile come through. “I feel normal. Well, as normal as I can be.” He finished, and his smile widened.

“Those implants should be more manageable, now that you have that stabilizer put in. We also took the liberty of removing your leash chips.”

Hammer Strike reached up near his neck, only to stop at the side and apply a small amount of pressure. “I didn’t n-notice.” he frowned at himself. “Yeah, I don’t feel it anymore.”

“In time, you should be able to learn how to use those mods deliberately, rather than letting them run all the time without control.”

“It helps that I have a feel for each of them,” Hammer Strike replied. “T-though, it’s still an abnormality.”

“Hopefully, you’ll get more used to them, now that you have greater control.”

“I,” He frowned in thought. “I should be able to manage that quickly.”

“If you don’t, tell me. We want to make you as comfortable as possible.”

“This was plenty enough right now.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “For the first time in seven years, I can finally think clearly.”

“I hope that means, in time, that you may be willing to tell us more about yourself.”

Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “After this? I’ll tell you damn near anything. Not quite everything, but close enough.”

“Good. But let’s finish your recovery first. Wouldn’t want you to say I coerced you while you weren’t in your right mind.” She smiled impishly and winked at him.

“Your choice.” He shrugged.

“So, the patient has recovered consciousness?” E asked as she entered the room.

“I believe I can confirm that.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.

“You are a very interesting Pony, Hammer Strike,” E noted. “You’ll have to tell me when you acquired those shoes.”

“Are we in a secure room?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Then, plain and simple, Sleipnir, apparently.”

“I assumed that much. He is their creator, after all. And he wouldn’t give them away without reason.”

“As for when…” Hammer Strike frowned. “Some potential thousands of years in the future? I ended up dealing with a minor magical mishap from an outside source, and it resulted in me having amnesia for some time. Long story short, I met an old stallion on the road at night and allowed him time by my campfire. Didn’t really know it at the time that it was him.” He shrugged. “Never showed himself again.”

“Few would recognize him.” E chuckled. “Still, you must have something special about you if he chose you.”

Hammer Strike shrugged. “Honestly, I hardly know anything about his mythology or, well, facts. I don’t really know what I could have done.”

“I’m sure I'll find out in time, darling.” She chuckled.

“If you figure it out, I’d love to hear it.” Hammer Strike gave another shrug.

“Rest assured, darling, you’ll be the first one I call.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “How long am I supposed to be ‘bedridden’ by the way?”

“The next half hour or so, just to make sure you work enough of the sedative out of your system,” Terra said.

“You seemed resistant to the normal one used in the labs, according to doctor bright, so we worked out something … special. Should have been powerful enough to put even you out,” E noted.

“I noticed.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll trust your judgement on this, rather than push myself like normal.”

“Of course, Aunt E and Doctor Bright are the ones who have the real say on the matter.”

E pulled out a long thin pipe, mounted a cartridge, and took a deep breath before exhaling a cloud of what looked like smoke, but carried none of the smell. “I would suggest attempting to act unstable around the others. The less they know about this, the better.”

“I … should be able to manage that.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I just have to verbally list analytics, perhaps a faint twitch every now and then.”

“Best to keep it the same level you did before when we’re in public,” Terra said. “I’m sure your implants will be able to show you how often and when those ticks manifested.”

“I can confirm that.”

“Excellent. Now, assuming we are all done with the formalities, I expect to see a great deal more of you, Hammer Strike. And the family. I haven’t seen little Celestia since she was born.” E strode up and patted Terra on the cheek. “And call me more often, darling. I do so enjoy our little visits.”

Terra laughed helplessly. “Whatever you say, Auntie Edna.”