Shining Armor's report on your duel has led me to conclude that I made the right decision in choosing to trust you. You kept yourself within the confines of the rules he set, you did your best to treat my proxy fairly, and your demonstrated capabilities matched those listed in the newspaper. I find it just as concerning as you that you are capable of more and hadn't been made aware of it until recently, but as I am not as familiar with what you've experienced as you are, I will leave matters in your hands.
I have recently sent notifications across Equestria in the hopes of gathering those who might be able to assist you. I expect that everypony who is inclined to accept will be present in Canterlot within a week's time, at which point the real fun begins. I don't need to put quotation marks around that word for you to hear them in your mind, do you?
Until we have a solution, I sadly can't allow you to visit here in person. Part of this is due to familiarity. You might slowly be turning into a common sight in Manehattan, but most of those in Canterlot are closed-minded and set in their ways. This is changing a little thanks to one of my own musicians, of all ponies, but it's not yet enough to prevent widespread panic. I don't want to risk any riots in the streets.
Another part of this is due to my personal student. She's a very precious pony to me, but there are times when her exuberance for learning magic can get somewhat tiring. My primary concern is that she'll look at you, see a golem instead of a machine, and hound you nonstop trying to work out every minuscule detail as to how you operate. I'm counting on her getting so wrapped up in her studies that she doesn't find out about you for now. Her own assistant's a bit more attentive and has already picked up some of the details from the grapevine, but I've asked him to keep it a secret until the time is right, and I trust him to keep his promise.
On a more casual note, I had a strange dream concerning my student recently. There was music I couldn't quite place in the background--something about "dancing to a joy division", whatever that is--and she was traveling through an endless corridor of realms linked by doors. I didn't get any negative vibes from it, so I doubt it really means anything. Still, the experience was off-kilter enough that I felt like sharing it.
In your last letter, you told me that you had been collecting a small pile of souvenirs to take home with you. If you have no objections, I would like to add to that collection. Please find enclosed a gift of one of my own feathers. Use it as you will, whether it's for decoration or some other purpose. If you choose to use it for writing, you may find it to be significantly more durable than the standard feather pens currently on the market. If you don't feel that such a use is viable, then simply carry it around with you and treat it as a memento when you return. You never know; it might just help you go places.
Here's to a successful venture.
Celestia
As I've been prone to doing, I've been dwelling on that last letter I'd received for the past few hours. It had materialized in a puff of green flame while I'd finished putting away my reading material at the library, and I counted myself fortunate that nopony had been looking my way at the time.
It doesn't take much to see the implications. Any dedicated research effort is going to take time to accomplish, no matter how on point everyone's minds are. The best case scenario here, I feel, is that it will take about six weeks--taking me right to my two-month preference. In contrast, the worst case scenario is that I'm here for anywhere from months to even years. Celestia was right when she closed her letter: all I can do now is hope.
I'm not too bothered that she doesn't want me in Canterlot right now. I feel more comfortable sticking around the area where I first arrived. This morning prior to my trip to the library, I visited a park that Gray's children recommended to me. There's a nice hoof-made river flowing through it, and I got to swim and lounge around for a bit.
Best. Feeling. In the world. I have my doubts that I'm going to get this sort of enjoyment in Canterlot, not unless they have something like this flowing through the city. Granted I know little about the place beyond it being the nation's capital, but I am aware it's mountain-based. And where there's mountains, there's bound to be dust and grit. Nooo, thank you.
Continuing, this is the second time Celestia has mentioned her student in her letters since I began my correspondence, though she's yet to give me a name. From what I've gathered, she's a checklist-loving, obsessive-compulsive, overreacting bookworm who goes to pieces when the slightest thing goes wrong. When it comes to magic, she's supposed to be a quick study and very intelligent, with the potential for greatness... if only she were a bit more social.
I was somewhat surprised when Celestia said that she was being withheld from the study group, but dwelling on it helps me make sense of it. I may have been built in a lab, but I'm no lab rat. I'm not exactly keen on being dissected, not unless it's by somepony I trust with my life. Once was ten times more than enough. Again, I know nothing of this student outside of what Celestia has told me, but her temperament obviously needs some serious work before I'd allow her anywhere near me.
Though on the face of it, that dream that was mentioned is chuckle-worthy. What sort of realms did the Princess see, I wonder?
And then there's that feather she sent me. She must have quite the impressive wingspan, because it's as long as my forearm. My scanner's registering a low magic reading coming from it; whatever it is, it's probably responsible for the thing's durability and flexibility.
I'd asked Drama last night if there was an official name for the type of pony that Celestia and Cadance matched. She told me what little she knew about alicorns, that being that they were combinations of all three types: unicorn magic, pegasus flight, and earth pony strength, on top of being the rarest ponies alive. With that in mind, some of that strength must have carried over into Celestia's wings. It's the only reason I can think of for why it feels more like a standard-issue stylus instead of a basic feather.
The feather's currently sitting in one of my spare inventory spaces. I didn't want to just leave it in my purse or coat, and I didn't have any means of treating it like a worn accessory. Just for grins I decided to see if I could stash it away, and it turned out to work just fine. My hypothesis is that something about its magic has my systems fooled into thinking that it's something I can use, like a Cyber-Elf or something. I don't have any facts to back that up, else I'd be calling it a theory. Oh, well; as long as it works.
...
I was able to say hello to an old acquaintance: I met up with Charity Kindheart while I was en route from the library to Drama's preferred grocery store. She had this far-off look in her eyes.
The day after that special edition of the Minutes had been published, Charity had finally located a buyer for her manor. While I was palling around with Gray and doing my research at the library yesterday, she was closing on the property and arranging to have what belongings she wanted to take shipped off to her new home.
When I found her, she was visiting some places she was familiar with and seeing the sights one last time before she departed on an overnight train. She'd already said good-bye to her closest associates, and the area around her eyes was a bit puffy—clear evidence, at least to me, that she'd been crying.
Oop---she's continued talking. Let me get back to the here and now.
“...spent the past forty years of my life in the business,” she's saying as I return my focus back to where it belongs. “Being able to satisfy my customers' preferences was enjoyable, but so was giving something back to them other than clothes. That's what sparked my desire to create the Midsummer Theater Revival: to not just share my love of the theater, but to help ponies regain their sense of cooperation and community. To bring them together.” She gestures at the street, though I'm guessing she has all of Bronclyn on the mind. “I'm worried that after I leave, they're going to lose those senses. I'm sure you've noticed that we're a very irregular species.”
I wince, though not out of any special concern. The term 'irregular' back home was sometimes seen as a synonym of 'Maverick'. “Speaking as an outsider, maybe trust that somepony will try to follow the example you set?”
“Oh, I certainly hope so, Fairy. I really do.” She pulls a pocket watch out of her snazzy little coat, frowning when she sees the time. “I have to get to the train station. Time just passes by too quickly...”
I'm not really sure why I'm doing this, but something prompts me to kneel down and draw Charity into a one-armed hug. “Don't I know it. You take care, alright? Go and be the best grandmother in the world.”
Charity accepts the hug with grace, nuzzling my chin briefly. “And you go and get yourself home, dear. Be the Guardian you were meant to be.”
“I will try. Thank you.”
…
Those were very strong words, I think to myself as I watch Charity ride away in a summoned taxi. Telling me to be the Guardian I was meant to be.
Taking my life experiences into account, I have a lot to work on. Being a better judge of what's right and wrong, for example. Not strictly relying on my gut instinct and charging in head-first. I don't want to repeat the mistakes that led to me being shunned by the only friend I'd ever had, and to me falling for the words of a fake. That would kill all the chances of me getting my old life back in a heartbeat.
…
As I leave the grocery store a little while later with a sack of foodstuffs, I wonder to myself if I knew what the word 'Guardian' truly means. Oh, I'm familiar with the textbook definition of the term: “Protector, or defender”. But that can't be all there is to it. I was defending Neo Arcadia from the Resistance when they had every right to resist. I was protecting the residents from scum... who were pushed into taking desperate measures by their own kind. We were believing 'them' over our own eyes, the 'them' in this case being Copy X. We were fed words, and we ate them like starved predators.
That's not protection. That's not defense. Clearly there's plenty that I'm not seeing. But on the flip side, there's plenty that I can: all I have to do is turn around.
...And I mean that in the literal sense, not just the figurative one. There's this strange humming noise that's been following me since I left the store. No use ignoring it anymore, so I might as well see what it is.
The thing is about a foot and a half in diameter and is shaped like an over-sized butterfly. An over-sized metallic butterfly: its tiny limbs are clearly made of steel. It has orange domes where its compound eyes would have been, and its abdomen and wings are painted a garish shade of pink. Don't get me wrong; I like pink as much as the next girl. I'm saying that this particular shade is offensive to my optics.
What is this? Is this somepony's pet project? If so, it's fairly creative in spite of---
...!
The humming noise intensifies, and... and bursts of orange light are shooting out of its eyes straight at me! I quickly drop down, hoping that nopony was close enough to hear my startled yelp. Both light bursts fly over my head, continuing down the street for another thirty meters before losing their cohesion and dissipating into particles. I can hear some surprised gasps and cries from those that are still out on the sidewalk.
Well, regardless of whether it's a pet project or not, I'm not going to say “that's fine, move ahead” to something that deliberately shot at me. My hand grabs at the whatever-it-is, preventing it from flying any further. I apply as much pressure as I can and channel my ice manipulation down through the cracks that are forming. Within seconds, the butterfly's lower half detonates in a miniature fireball as its structure becomes too warped to handle whatever's powering it. I ignore the shrapnel that pelts me, knowing that none of it can bypass my frame. I let what's left of its head drop to the ground, crushing it beneath my boot---
And nearly jump out of them as the last thing I thought I'd hear in this city roars at the top of its metaphorical lungs.
It doesn't take long to spot the tower of smoke that billows towards the sky. It's somewhere miles to the west, probably coming from one of the small suburbs on the mainland. What on earth happened over there? Who or what decided that blowing something up was a smart move?
My ears are assaulted by five more explosions, and I'm sure that these are all situated around Manehattan proper. Their sources appear to be coming from the far ends of the city, so at the very least neither Drama's theater nor Gray's apartment are being threatened. But what's going on? Why this, all of a sudden? And why is everypony poking their heads out of buildings when common sense should tell them to take cover?
"Look!" somepony calls out, pointing (so to speak) at something. More of those butterflies are approaching, making a beeline straight for me out of seemingly nowhere. A few blocks down the street, I can see a motley assortment of honest-to-goodness mechaniloids charging at full tilt down the street. One of them swats aside a taxi carriage that isn't quite able to get out of the way in time, ignoring the unhitched driver as he flees for his life.
Those ponies on the street panic and take off towards whatever safety they can, hollering and screaming. I stop one who seems vaguely familiar before he can get past me. "Hey!" I call out, raising my voice to make myself heard over his yelling. "Hey!"
"Get out of my way, robot! There's something attacking us!" the stallion shouts, trying to get past me.
I summon the Javelin to block his path, stopping him. "Hold it! Are you familiar with Salamandra's Pyre, by some chance?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"I need these groceries delivered there," I ordered him, my voice authoritative as I hold out said bag towards him. "Tell the owner I sent you, and that I'll be a little late getting back. Can you do that for me, please?"
The stallion anxiously looks back at the approaching butterflies, but nods hurriedly. "Pay me later?"
Nice to know where your priorities lie. "Sure, put it on my tab. I'll stop them here. Go!"
The pony takes the bag in his mouth and tosses it into the air; it lands on his back without a single item falling out. I step out of the way, and he bolts towards the distant Pyre. Excellent balance, I note idly.
I turn to face the incoming swarm, slinging my purse onto a nearby awning and trusting that it'll support the bag's weight. I don't know where all of these things came from, or who it was that somehow managed to mass-produce mechaniloids in this low-tech land. What I do know is that they're intent on coming after me, that anypony between us risks becoming collateral, and that there are innocents in danger. There will be no excuses if they aren't prevented from rampaging as they please. Theorizing can wait.
One by one, each butterfly opens fire. They're not trying to attack me all at once, which in theory would make them more difficult to predict, but it doesn't matter: I'm too fast for them regardless. Some deft spinning of the Javelin reduces the beams to nothing, followed closely by the drones themselves once I get in close. Some of them are able to recharge in time to fire again, but a single bound allows me to evade most of the blasts, get in close, and pulverize them. The one blast that catches the back of my hand doesn't leave more than a scratch behind, though that's more due to the angle instead of the power output.
This wave is pure cannon fodder, no question. My CPU's telling me that they have about the same level of durability as Neo Arcadia's mass-produced Pantheon Hunters. They'll be able to intimidate the panicky civilians here, but anypony with a decent level of training and courage will be able to survive encounters with them. Someone like me? Fo'get about it.
Yes, that was a Bronclyn accent I imitated. What of it?
I have some time before the next batch of enemies arrives, so I'm devoting a bit of focus to one of the shattered drones. There's unfamiliar carvings and letters stenciled on the underside of one of the fragments; admittedly I'm not an expert in the Equestrian language, but I don't recognize these as part of it. I'm not seeing an endoskeleton for support. In addition there isn't anything that would denote signal transfers, and the apparatus that allowed it to fire energy bolts is completely disconnected from anything that would give it power, so maybe...
Alright, they're not quite mechaniloids. There's a little crystal of some variety or other powering them instead of a system that I recognize. Magic... I can't bring myself to be surprised anymore. I remove the crystal, which is roughly the size of my thumb, and crush it in my hand to ensure that it won't be coming back.
Structural Integrity: 99.7% --> 100%.
...Interesting. These must be similiar to Reddocite in that they can reverse damage, too; the scratch I sustained is gone, and the fabric over where it had been is undamaged. I'm not experiencing any sort of energy replenishment, so maybe it's some kind of weaker derivative?
A whistle blows, putting a stop to my musing. "Hold it right there!"
I look up sharply at the order, ready to tell off whoever it was that addressed me in that manner... but I'm not the intended recipient. The wave of drones is stampeding across the intersection, and a Police officer seems intent on getting their attention at the cross street. That coloration looks familiar...
The officer's attempt works just a little bit too well. Some of the drones break off to pursue her, and she realizes that doing so just might have been a bad idea when they refuse to stop. "Never mind the 'hold it', never mind the 'hold it'!" she cries as she whirls and gallops away.
...Wait, I recognize that Cutie Mark. That's Coffee-and-Cream! Crazy pony's going to get herself killed by what she just did!...
Aaannnd it looks like what's left of that wave isn't going to let me help her out. "Not on my watch!" I declare as I charge at them.
There are more of these butterflies, but we've got two new types closing in. One appears to be... ...what's that animal, it's right on the tip of my tongue, I know I've heard the name somewhere... right, okay. It's shaped and painted like an armored honey badger. This one's low to the ground, fairly slow moving, and seems intent on mauling anything that gets into close range. One of them just left a long gouge in a lamppost just for the sake of it.
The other is more recognizably wolf-like, reminding me of the Garm line from back home. The difference is that these are a bit bigger and more jagged in shape, have glowing green eyes, and---
HIGH HEAT ADVISORY!
---can spit fire, thanks for the forewarning, sensors! If they're willing to pack heat, somepony out there has it out for me. That was too close!
I kick one of the wolves' mouths shut before it can fire again, leaving the flames with no place to exit and reducing it to molten slag via self-destruction. Sadly, I'm left with no choice but to dash out of the way before I can pull the same stunt on another. Keep moving, Levi. Don't let yourself stay in one place too long, or badger-baby's going to bite you. Not too keen on suffering that.
One of the butterflies fires at me again, barely grazing my left upper arm. The shot comes within a hair's breadth of hitting one of the badgers. Hmm, idea time. Why shouldn't I make things a little easier on myself?
Alright, zigzagging around the street a little bit here, giving them something to think about... though I don't think any of them have actual brains. I'm influencing their positioning little by little and taking advantage of their attack patterns. The butterflies hover every which way, halt, then fire. The honey badgers don't have any ranged attacks and instead go for close-range strikes. The wolves are a mix of both: they have the fireballs for mid-range, and claws when they get in close. The fire is what especially worries me, but if I play my cards right it'll cease to be an issue.
Okay, I've pretty much managed to get myself trapped. The butterflies on one side, and all other drones on the other. I'm beginning to direct energy into the Frost Javelin. Going to have to time this right. Those of you listening at home probably have a good idea of what I'm up to.
The butterflies and wolves charge their energies, then fire simultaneously. Well, not quite simultaneously. Some of the shots are mere tenths of a second apart, but eh... semantics. In any event, a dash-jump takes me out of the shots' path and off the side of a building... leaving the badgers and wolves to take almost all of the butterflies' blasts. Three-fourths of the wolves succumb to the attacks, detonating one by one. Less than half of the badgers are destroyed, showing how remarkably tanky they are. The butterflies are caught by the wolves' fireballs, torching and weakening them.
It's while all of them are trying to figure out what just happened that I drop down from above, stabbing the Javelin into the ground as I land. In the same motion, I release all of the energy that I'd just gotten done channeling. With a howl not too dissimilar from the wolves', an icy cold shockwave billows out in all directions, giving my attackers a taste of winter's cruelty. It only lasts a few short seconds, but it's too much for most of the drones to take; one by one their frames collapse on themselves, explode, or both. The badgers last longer thanks to their durability, but become immobile on account of the ice that's ensnared them, rendering them easy prey for the Javelin's blade.
I'd hate to live in a world where thermal expansion wasn't a thing.
The shockwave managed to put out a few fires that the wolves had accidentally started, but there's still several more places in danger of going up. Best to deal with those before I move on. A few more Charged Slashes should do the trick... ... ...and there. That should prevent any unexpected bonfires, or at least keep them at bay long enough for the residents to deal with them. I grab a few crystals from the drones' shattered wrecks, healing the minor damage I'd sustained with one of them and stashing the rest in my final inventory space.
Now to find the missing Officer.
I turn down the street that Coffee had been running away on. It doesn't take long to spot her as I run: she'd only made it a block and a half before the butterflies caught up with her. Credit where credit is due, in that she actually managed to destroy a few of them: the remains of her baton can be seen among the wreckage, and some of the debris looks flattened from a well-aimed buck. All the rest have converged on her, however, and she's tiring fast; it's only going to take one strike from these things to hospitalize or kill her. I direct more energy into the Javelin as I approach. "Officer!" I yell as I approach. "Jump away, now!"
Coffee doesn't waste time questioning why. She gathers her strength and does as told, trying to get as much space from the drones as she can. Her timing is perfect; my Charged Slash freezes most of the batch in place, catching the attention of those I missed. Not that it does them any good as I systematically rip them apart, dancing around their attempts at counterattacking.
From there it's just a matter of demolishing the drones I'd flash-frozen, and by now Coffee's recovered enough to join me. As I smash the wolves apart, she goes to town on the honey badgers, repeatedly punching each one until the metal caves in and the power crystals shatter. She's slower than I am, and by the time I'm finished with the wolves there's still two left, but I stand back and let Coffee vent her fury instead of stepping in.
Earth pony strength... it's quite a thing.
...
Finally satisfied that the last drone isn't going to move anymore, Coffee takes a step back to catch her breath. As she does, I put out a few leftover fires and run a quick surveillance of the vicinity. I'm not seeing any more drones flying around, and I'm not hearing anypony else screaming in fear, so until more show up I think that's all of them. Around here, at least... don't know about those explosions elsewhere that kicked this whole thing off.
To repeat myself: what on earth happened over there?
Coffee's more or less recovered by now, so I turn my attention to her. "Are you alright, Officer?"
"I'm winded, but I'm not hurt," Coffee admits. Her thankful look is replaced by worry. "What in Tartarus were those things?"
"I wish I could answer that," I say in the negative. "Just double-checking, but Equestria doesn't have robots of its own, right?"
"Nowhere even close!" Coffee states emphatically, visibly appalled at the thought. "I think we would know how to deal with you when you first appeared if we had! Sci-fi's one thing, but reality is something else!"
"Not quite sci-fi." I retrieved the crystals from my inventory and showed them to her. "I was able to pull these from a few I'd destroyed back there. You can have the Department examine these if you want, but I'm positive that these were powering the drones."
"I'd wondered what those things were I'd broken... hold on to those for now. I don't have anything to carry them with."
"I'm less curious about the drones," I wonder as I put the crystals back, "than I am about those big explosions."
Coffee's eyes widened, and her ears stood up straight. "No! I almost forgot about those! Leviathan, if you don't mind--"
Whatever it is I don't mind, I'll never know. "Attention, all unoccupied officers," a calmly furious voice crackles over Coffee's radio, just loud enough for me to hear. "Attention, all unoccupied officers. Return to headquarters. The Royal Police Department is under attack. I repeat, the Royal Police Department is under attack."
"Blast it!" Coffee snarls. "Leviathan!"
I nod. "Don't have to tell me twice. Lead the way!"
Coffee immediately gallops down the street as fast as she is capable. I run alongside her, shifting into a dash from time to time when she starts pulling ahead of me. No more drones accost us as we hurry---
---...Scratch that. That steadily-increasing shadow in front of us could hardly be anything else. "STOP!"
The both of us slam on the brakes and backpedal... right on time. Something crashes down on the road, cratering it and knocking us both off our feet with the impact. A microphone-rattling roar further causes everything around us to reverberate as whatever it is swings down at me, and a fast calculation's telling me that I'm not going to be able to block it on time...!
There's a pull on the back of my vest, a grunt of exertion, then I find myself yanked backwards in a hurry. Another crater is created where I'd been a few seconds before, but I'm far enough away from it that I can afford not to care as much. "Thanks for the quick save, Officer!"
Coffee lets go of my vest, spitting something off to the side. "The cloth was a lie. It looked like cotton, but it felt like I bit into steel wool."
That warrants a chuckle. "I wouldn't call it armor if it wasn't durable enough to protect me." Though it doesn't protect much, granted. Weren't the Reploids of old much more heavily armored? I climb to my feet, wary of continued attacks. "So. What am I looking at here?"
'What', indeed. It almost looks as if someone had taken a gorilla, genetically modified it to be thirty feet tall, and stuck three of the Guard Orotic's long necks and heads on it. The body's a very dark gray, with gold trim along its legs and up its sides.
Just to clarify: it doesn't have arms. Those long necks are its arms. I'll bet this thing won't have any problems scratching its back.
Coffee's thinking along similar lines. “It looks like somepony made a golem out of a gorilla and a hydra. You okay handling this?”
The internal alarms are blaring. A meter appears on one side of my vision, estimating the beast's structural integrity. I adopt a two-handed hold on the Frost Javelin, pointing it at one of the gorilla-hydra-thing's necks. My grin is all but splitting my face in half.
“...Yeah. You are. Getting clear!” Putting words to actions, Coffee turns and gallops away.
The Gorridra, as I shall call it from now on, isn't waiting for her to leave before commencing its attack. One of its necks is swinging out at me like a club, trying to flatten me again. A single jump takes me out of danger and brings me forward, and a jump off of its torso lets me get close enough to slash at the neck's base. The Gorridra roars—whether in pain or anger, I can't tell—and tries to spear me with its opposite 'arm'. By then, Coffee is well out of danger.
A thought crosses my mind; grimacing as I dart away from the Gorridra's strike, I raise my voice to its maximum. “To anypony watching this fight, get yourself as far away as you can! Get to your back doors and leave! When this thing dies, it's going to die big, and a single wall will not save you!”
I'm hoping that got through to everypony hiding in their homes and businesses. Destroying this thing's going to be the only real way to stop it, and explosions aren't known for their subtlety. There's going to be debris all over the place, and there's a very real risk of some of it being launched clear through walls and windows. If they don't heed my warning, they probably won't live to regret it—
Yet another high heat alert! The Gorridra's middle head opens wide, and a wave of flame billows down at me. Sideways jump, sideways jump, yes! Away from the fire, rebound off the torso, and I got another hit in on the damaged neck! “I know, I know. I've heard it all before!” I state to the Gorridra as it roars again and attempts to run me through—
Wait a moment.
So I dart in, jump, slash, avoid the piercing attack, dodge the flames, dart in, jump, slash—
Did... did I just lock this thing into a pattern? Is it just going to keep doing this? Because if it is, either this thing's a victim of hardware limitations, or this is just its creator's way of saying 'hi'.
Either way, I have its number. This thing's behaving like a true Maverick, and I'm going to full well treat it like one.
…
Let's be honest. Do you really think that the Gorridra has any sort of chance against me? Like, at all? Because if you do, I think you might be watching someone else's memories.
My attack pattern gets repeated three more times before I'm finally able to slice off the neck I was targeting; the Gorridra never tried any sort of deviation. As the beast roars furiously, I stab the Javelin into the open wound and channel my powers into its interior, forcing a half-formed Spirit of the Ocean to materialize within—
The familiar noise of something fragile shattering reaches me after the Mine detonates, and the Gorridra's 'Integrity' bar disappears from my vision. The beast's roar cuts off entirely. Both of the remaining heads are collapsing to the ground with finality, the energy that had given them life disappearing forever. I jump away from the body as it topples over with an earthshaking 'thud'.
...Well. That was thoroughly anticlimactic, and there wasn't any sort of explosion like I'd been expecting. But if it means that the danger is over, I'll take it. That's the key takeaway here.
A few Charged Slashes to put out any flames, then... “Area's clear!” I yell into the air. “It's safe to come out now!”
As the residents' presence become known again--making me believe that some of them didn't run when I told them to--I circle the downed Gorridra and carve into it with the Javelin, taking it apart piece by piece. This will make it easier for the cleanup specialists this city has to handle. I sort of wonder what they're going to do with all of this, and what they're going to make of it all. I can only imagine the questions that are going to be asked behind closed doors.
Leviathan had no way of knowing this, but most of the metal would have their paint and runes scrubbed, be broken down and sent out to be reforged. A year later, a plow made from this alloy would replace the saggy old one owned by Ponyville's Apple family.
Coffee-and-Cream comes up behind me as I finish my work, saying something into her radio. “...I apologize for not arriving on time to assist, sir. I was waylaid by a giant hydra-headed gorilla. And in case you don't believe me, you're more than welcome to come out here and see the wreckage for yourself. … It wasn't alive, sir. The whole thing was made of metal, and it had some sort of magic crystal powering it...” She looks at me as she says this last bit, and I confirm it with a nod. “Came across Leviathan. She was able to procure smaller crystals of the same type from some... things that attacked us both. Maybe forensics can make heads or tails out of them. ...Yeah, she destroyed the gorilla. It's in pieces out at...”
The conversation between Coffee and her superiors continues for a bit. During it, she requests information on what's happening around town... and none of it is any good. My heart's sinking a little listening to them. Eleven officers injured, one in critical condition. Another officer apparently turned against them. Six different parts of the city deliberately attacked for reasons unknown. The only plus side is that no civilian deaths have been reported... yet. "Any idea why this happened?" I ask, my concern overriding my desire to stay quiet.
Coffee holds up a hoof for silence, listening to her radio. "Uh-huh..." Her eyes shoot open. "WHAT? You're saying that a dragon attacked the Police station? Why? ... ... Frail hair on a..." she groans, shaking her head. "Where will you be wanting me? ...Alright, I'll be heading there as soon as the cleanup crew arrives."
With her conversation done, Coffee turns to address me. Her face is contorted in fury. "This concerns you directly, so I feel safe telling you this. Somepony got it into their head to try and break the Midnight Castles out of prison. Most of the gang is still accounted for: the unicorns are passed out, the pegasi refused to leave their cells, and the Earth pony known as Barricade was grabbed before he could flee. On the other hoof, the ringleaders Iron Gates and Bastion were able to escape on a dragon's back."
And here I was thinking that the city was peaceful, relatively speaking. I was wrong. I was terribly, terribly wrong. I can't even bring myself to be surprised at an actual dragon being present. "So all those other attacks were just meant to be a diversion for the jailbreak?"
"That's what the higher-ups think," Coffee agreed. "No indication as to who this group is that struck out of nowhere. What about those things that were attacking us? What do you think?"
"It's not a coincidence," I tell the officer. I note the light damage that my Javelin had sustained during the past twenty minutes, then dismiss it back to storage and set my auto-repair to work on it. "The drones showing up at the same time all these other attacks were taking place? Somepony out there either didn't want me getting involved or just wanted to destroy me. Probably both. It was still a spectacular failure, but you have to give them credit for trying."
"The cleanup crew's going to have a field day with this," Coffee complains as she surveys the debris-saturated street. "Ten to one we've landed ourselves in the middle of something big."
"No argument from me."
There must be something about my expression that makes Coffee seem curious. "I realize you're busy, but do you feel you're up to helping us resolve this?" She continues on as I look her in the eyes, my attention gained. "The Royal Police might have a large workforce, but we can't be everywhere. Having a dragon alongside a traitor, two skilled thieves and multiple dangerous unknowns clearly escalates this up to 'Royal Guard' and 'Wonderbolt' threat levels. And with some of our veterans injured... well, I'll see if I can ask the Chief about our chances, but historically we've always been reluctant to ask for help from Canterlot or Cloudsdale. Which leaves you."
Do I want to help them? It's a valid question. I'd made it clear to them once before that going home would always be my highest priority. The thing is, that was before my perception of this city's security was challenged. If I turned a blind eye towards their problems when it was within my ability to help them out, I would never be able to sleep peacefully again. What sort of Guardian would I be if I didn't fulfill the basic definition and protect? It's all in the name.
And there's more...
...
My mind, it's...
Heh. Some duty-focused soldier I am.
I'd wanted to keep myself closed off. I didn't want to form any attachments to anypony here. When the time came to return home, I didn't want to have any regrets.
But somehow, three ponies managed to worm their way into my life in only fifteen days time. Celestia, that powerful but kind ruler who just wanted somepony to talk to on even footing. Drama Heart, the eccentric playwright who sounds like she could be a terrifyingly mad scientist. Gray Ghost, the unpredictable family mare.
If I left to pursue my own agenda, what would they think of me? Would they excuse my behavior as understandable in light of my circumstances, or would they be more likely to chew me out for not helping when I had the chance? How much goodwill would I lose if somepony died on my watch?
...
I close my eyes. Just because I'm a mechanical terror, that does not make me heartless. These ponies have a way of growing on you. Words can't describe how I'm beginning to feel towards those that have decided to be my friends. The fact that they are friends is telling: the one person I could safely call that back home refuses to speak to me because of my own misguided beliefs. Even my fellow Guardians don't fit the bill: we might be capable and willing allies who can engage in casual conversation, or stand in the same room without wanting to tear each other's heads off, but... well, when Copy X's regime began, we tended to have detached attitudes towards ourselves outside of military affairs (okay, poor choice of words, I admit it). We never had the time or the ability to forge healthy relationships.
Gray, Drama, and Celestia? Saying that I 'love' them is a stretch right now, but 'liking' them? That's a definite "yes". I'm not going to be the type of person who doesn't care what others think about me. I'm not going to ignore their opinions just because they might be different from my own; doing that just once was bad enough. If they want me to help--and there's no doubt that they would, if I asked--then I will. I can't and won't turn my back on them now.
If I did, I'd never be able to face myself in the mirror again.
…
…
...
Coffee watched as Leviathan's eyes closed and she went through the motions of exhaling a deep-seated sigh. Her eyes opened, revealing a chasm of fierce determination. The two words she spoke filled the officer with relief.
“I will.”