Bulletproof Mirage

by PaulAsaran


The Chancellor and His Tempest

The chancellor’s home was parked in a convenient spot for the two mares, on the southwestern edge of Manehattan in an area that, while not wealthy, was certainly not poor. This meant that Mirage and Rarity didn’t have to go all the way around or through the massive city. It also meant they could approach it from outside the usual trade lanes. As they rode their lizards through the stone roads, they were surrounded by the simple one-story homes of a quiet neighborhood.

The bad part about this was that there would be no going incognito here. The pleasant region was sorely lacking in secretive routes and the lack of a crowd made them stand out like… well, like two dusty, gun-toting drifters in a clean neighborhood, one of whom happened to be an alicorn. Rarity had no doubt that the chancellor’s ponies would see them coming from blocks away. With this in mind, they concluded that the only thing they could do was be direct and make no attempt to hide themselves.

It wasn’t the chancellor that worried Rarity. No, that honor belonged to Mirage. The mare was a bundle of nerves, constantly shifting and fidgeting in her saddle. What bothered her most about this situation? Mayhap it was that they were exposed and on the enemy’s ground. Or perhaps it was knowing that she may have to kill again today. Given Mirage’s previous statements about her own magical strength, it was also entirely possible she feared letting loose in a populated area. Worst case scenario: all of the above.

Was she prepared for this? Rarity hadn’t touched on the topic since their discussion nearly a week ago. That may have been a mistake, but it was done. Time to be sure. She opened her mouth—

“I know it’s way too late to be asking this,” Mirage said, seemingly unaware of the conversation she’d just prevented, “but who exactly is this ‘chancellor’ guy, anyway?”

Holding back a sigh, Rarity gave the only answer she could. “I don’t know.”

Mirage shot her an incredulous look. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? Coming here was your idea.”

Rarity shrugged. “I know of the chancellor only from a member of his crew, and that was barely a mention. I know he’s involved with Autumn Blaze somehow because she outright told me so.” Assuming that wasn’t another trick, but Rarity was skeptical. “Going by what little I know of Manehattan's government, I would guess he’s a part of the city’s judicial system. The odds of him being in the pocket of the Bad Apples or at least one of the elite agricultural families that run the city is extremely high. Beyond that?” Another shrug. “I don’t know.”

Contemplating this revelation, Mirage eventually asked, “And what if he really is just another pawn in Autumn’s schemes?”

Rarity eyed the road ahead, particularly a house that was larger than its neighbors. If the directions she got from that little colt a few blocks back were accurate, then that would be the chancellor’s abode. “Then we’ll just have to hope that becomes clear before anypony starts shooting.”

“Right.” Following Rarity’s gaze to the house, she grimaced. “So, how are we doing this? I know we agreed to take the direct route – which I’m still really nervous about, by the way – but do you actually intend to just walk through the front door?”

“More or less.” Rarity waved a hand at their surroundings. “What are they going to do, shoot us out in the open? This place isn’t exactly loud. If a firefight starts, everypony in a few miles will know it. Pretty hard to cover something like that up. No, they’ll talk at the start, or at least try to, and if things do go south we’ll already be inside.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Mirage muttered, her eyes on the second story. “Every single one of those windows would make for good sniping positions. I keep having to remind myself that this isn’t a game or a warzone.”

Rarity eyed her warily. Now was as good an opportunity to slip the question in as ever. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Mirage’s nod was firm. “Absolutely. I can’t let you go it alone. You wouldn’t even be involved in this mess if not for me.”

Deny it, or agree? Rarity couldn’t be sure which was better for Mirage. Seeing as they were coming upon the manor faster than she’d expected, she decided to let the matter drop for now.

If Rarity were to pick a single term to describe the chancellor’s home, it would be ‘austere’. While its size was remarkably modest for belonging to somepony in a presumably high government position, the solid, dark brown walls and black iron fencing on the balconies spoke of a certain aggressive authority. The entrance of the building was precluded by a set of wide cement stairs, oddly requiring visitors to enter through the second story.

But what really had her attention were the two guards standing on either side of the front door, looking directly at them and anxiously gripping their rifles as though wondering if they would do any good. A legitimate concern, all things considered.

The two mares dismounted from across the street. Mirage moved to tie Ray Jr. up to a nearby fence post, but Rarity made no move to do the same for Ophelia. She could trust the lizard not to wander off on her own unless necessary. What she couldn’t trust was in the chancellor’s goons not trying to attack or kill the dear creature. No, best to let Ophelia have the options of fight or flight.

She led the way, ready to cast her shield spell with but a thought. The guards watched them coming like a pair of foals facing an oncoming carriage. One of them made an attempt to raise his rifle in a proper ‘ready’ pose, but the poor thing’s hands were shaking terribly.

The mare of the two had a little more control, and thus managed to squeak out, “Y-you don’t have permission to enter, miss.”

Rarity walked right past. “You are free to try and stop us.”

They didn’t. A second later saw Mirage and Rarity in a modest entry hall. The interior of the house wasn’t so grim in appearance. One might even call it tasteful, although the bust statue of some stallion with a monocle called that assessment into question.

“I can’t believe they just let us walk in,” Mirage noted with quiet wonder. “I mean, I know ponies talk about you, but they looked like they were gonna crap their pants.”

“Tales of my exploits are often exaggerated,” Rarity calmly replied, eyeing the different exits. There were three, not counting the one they’d just come through. No stairs. She wondered about the purpose of the second story entry. Just some architect being flamboyant, or was there some practical purpose she’d have to account for?

Abruptly, the door on the other side of the room opened. In ducked a mare of impressive, intimidating stature. Opal eyes locked on Rarity’s with all the piercing firmness of a predator. Her rose-red mane was set in a back-swept mohawk that kept her long, sharp horn cleanly exposed. The outfit covering most of her dark orchid body was a blue-black and had clear defensive padding. None of that was quite so intimidating as the massive gun mounted to her shoulder. Rarity wasn’t sure what it was even for.

Mirage, ever so helpful, filled in the knowledge gap after a long whistle. “Holy crap, that’s a grenade launcher. That is at once awesome and overkill.”

“Especially from inside this fancy house,” Rarity added under her breath. There was no way this mare intended to fire that thing in here. The collateral cost to her employer would be enormous.

The big mare closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes off her visitors. Now standing at her full height, she towered over the both of them. She didn’t so much scowl as radiate disdain and boredom in a near-physical aura. “Bulletproof Heart.” She had the kind of deep voice that would have made a much younger Rarity swoon. Despite the unfriendly undertone, she kept it polite. “And the Mirage, I take it?”

“That would be correct,” Rarity answered, hands on hips. “And you are?”

The big mare’s eyes flicked to Rarity’s hands, or perhaps to Silver Lining. “Call me Tempest. I take it you’re here to see the chancellor?”

“Yeah.” Mirage leaned forward, curiosity plain in her stare. “How’d you know we were here so quickly?”

“Saw you coming from blocks away.” Tempest folded her arms before her chest, presumably to appear all the more intimidating. “You make an appointment, like everypony else. I can schedule one for you.”

Rarity scoffed, completely unmoved by the display. “I think not. We’re here now, and he will see us.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Hey!” Mirage took a step closer, her wings opening wide in what Rarity recognized from pegasi as a threatening display. “Do you know who we are? We don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Tempest raised a thick eyebrow, then reached into her pocket. From it she produced an emerald that just fit in the palm of her hand. She pressed her thumb to it, and there came a quiet chime. A couple seconds later it chimed again, the sound accompanied by a bright red glow. With a sniff, she pocketed the emerald. “Looks like you’re taking ‘no’ for an answer today.”

A means of communicating with the chancellor, perhaps? Rarity wondered if he weren’t listening to every word they were saying. If that were the case, maybe a less threatening tone was in order. “Forgive us, Miss Tempest, but you have to understand our urgency. The chancellor’s ponies attacked the both of us, so we’d appreciate settling this matter as soon as possible.”

“I don’t care.” The big mare’s attention was now on Mirage. “And I’m not intimidated by the fake alicorn. Now make an appointment or get out.”

A jolt of red-orange electricity shot up Mirage’s horn, her teeth bared and her feet spread. “Fake, am I? I’d like to see if you have the same structural integrity as an airship.”

“Now, now.” Rarity raised an arm in front of Mirage. “There’s no need to get rough. We’ll just call her bluff and keep moving.”

Tempest’s lips, already set in a frown, tightened. She sucked in a slow breath and seemed just a touch bigger than before. She was flexing a bit, Rarity realized. The clothing dampened the effect, but that didn’t stymie the awareness that this was a big pony. “Who says I’m bluffing?”

“You did,” Rarity patiently replied. “By coming in here with a giant gun that is guaranteed to cause significant property damage even when fired perfectly. Or am I to believe the chancellor is okay with you destroying this room?”

With a snort, Tempest unfolded her arms, hands gripped into tight fists. “I don’t need a gun.”

Mirage opened her hand wide, and one of her weapons appeared in it. “So if we shoot you before you get to us, you won’t die? That’s a neat trick, I think I’d like to see it.”

No answer came. The three mares stared at one another, caught in a tense standoff. Mirage’s gun was lowered, but only so much; she’d have it aimed and the trigger pulled in an instant. Tempest looked like a minotaur ready to charge, her eyes making Rarity glad that looks could not actually kill. For her part, Rarity was no longer confident that this wouldn’t turn into a proper fight. She was perhaps the least prepared of the three of them. Her weapons’ safety straps weren’t even unbuttoned. But she was already planning her first moves.

Just when it seemed the tension could grow no more, a faint chime interrupted the silence. Tempest’s expression softened just a touch as she pulled out that emerald once again. This time it was glowing a faint yellow. Tapping it with her thumb dismissed the aura. “Well,” she said, all aggression lost, “looks like the situation’s changed. You can pass through.”

Mirage and Rarity shared incredulous looks. “Just like that?” the former asked.

“Just like that.” Tempest pocketed the emerald and turned to the door. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The alicorn leaned towards Rarity to whisper a very confused, “Is this a trick?”

She could only shrug and respond with, “One way to find out.” The expression on Mirage’s face said she didn’t like that response at all. Nevertheless, she led the way in following Tempest.

The chancellor’s home might have been large by the standards of the average pony, but for somepony in a major government position it appeared downright modest. The decorations were sparse, and most that did appear were paintings of families or portraits. Going by the similar features shared by many of the ponies shown, Rarity suspected they were all relatives. Every now and then there would be a vase with some potted plant in a window. All told, Rarity got the impression the house’s overarching design and decor were intended to give off more an air of family legacy than power or wealth. It was oddly reassuring.

Tempest led them down some stairs and through the back of the house. It wasn’t a long walk, and soon they were all standing before a simple door at the end of a hall. Tempest stood aside, arms crossed with a surly frown, and nodded at the door. “Through there.”

Mirage shot her a narrow-eyed glance. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m his Head of Security,” Tempest snorted, “not his butler.” She promptly turned around and left them to their business.

“It’s alright,” Rarity offered, seeing no reason to protest. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“I guess.” Mirage watched the burly mare disappear around the corner as if expecting an attack to come at any moment. “I just feel like something’s not right.”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, dear.”

At last relaxing a touch, Mirage turned to the door and gripped the knob. “Sorry. I just feel like this is a really weird place for the chancellor’s office. I mean, it’s almost like we got sent to the—”

The door opened, and two dozen ponies wearing the red uniforms of the Manehattan Guard were pointing guns at them from a street devoid of pedestrians.

“...back door.”

“Bulletproof Heart, Mirage!” An enthusiastic middle-aged stallion with some impressive lungs shouted at them from behind the many, many gun barrels. “You are under arrest for attempted murder and threatening a city official, among other things. Drop your weapons and come quietly and nopony has to get hurt.”

For Rarity, there was only one proper answer.

Mirage summoning her guns out of thin air and aiming them through the door was not it. “I can take them! You—”

A splash of telekinesis knocked her aim low. “I’m sure you could, darling.” Rarity shoved Mirage aside and slammed the door. “But let’s not kill a bunch of Manehattan’s finest for merely doing their jobs.”

“Right.” The alicorn flushed, guilt written across her face. “Not a game. No indiscriminate killing. Right.” Her horn flashed for an instant and the door’s hinges and knob deformed as if touched by an intense heat. “That ought to hold them for at least a little bit. Plan B?”

Rarity brought out Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, turning back to the hallway. “Plan B.” Not that they had one. She would just assume ‘Plan B’ was to search the house. “If the chancellor is here, they’ll try to get him out of the house and away from us.”

“I gotcha.” Mirage stalked through the hall at a fast walk, her movements surprisingly silent despite the hardwood floors. “Secure the exit, keep the target in play. Let’s move.” Well, somepony really wanted to take the lead. Not that Rarity minded, Mirage had already proven herself a capable combatant.

Rarity mapped the house in her head, what little she’d seen of it. The hallway would take on a rough S shape to a lounge where the stairs were. From there they’d pass through a library – easily the most expensive room in the house – to another hallway that would lead to the front door. She was already puzzling over good defensive positions as Mirage set her back to the wall of the first corner and peeked around. Apparently finding no threats, she pressed onward.

“We should check these doors,” Rarity noted, already moving for the closest one. “Don’t want to pass him by in our hurry.”

Mirage let out a faint grunt of acknowledgement and went for another door. Rarity acted first, shoving the door open and aiming her weapons. She found an empty closet.

Mirage’s door was not so barren, at least in terms of ponies. Rarity didn’t get a chance to reach her before the bullets started flying. The alicorn pirouetted out of the doorway just in time. Back to the wall, guns raised, she shot Rarity a pointed look. “Can I shoot them now?

“Oh, for Luna’s sake.” Rarity reached into the room with her magic, caught the door handle, and slammed it closed. She counted them both lucky the walls were sturdy enough to resist small arms fire. “Do the hinge trick again, if you please.”

“All I’m saying is self defense seems like a legitimate reason,” Mirage grumbled, doing as she was told. “Say, how strong are your earth ponies?”

“If they have any skill at all, strong enough to break through that door.” Rarity’s response was punctuated by something banging hard against the house’s back door. She hurried to the next one. “But we’ve bought ourselves time.”

“Hardly!” Mirage followed, scowling and aiming her weapon at the hall behind them. “If they didn’t know we’d slipped out of their trap before, they sure do now. I think one of us should hurry to the front before they really do get the chancellor out.”

“We stay together!” Rarity hurriedly checked the last door in this part of the hall. A study of some sort. No ponies. Closing it sharply, she moved to the corner. “Our odds of getting out of this alive and unarrested are better this way.”

“And if the chancellor escapes?”

“Then he escapes,” Rarity stiffly replied, checking out the windows. The Manehattan Guard were clearly visible moving around the front of the house. “Then again, we’re about to need our own escape plan. They’re trying to surround the building.”

“Wonderful.” Mirage bounded up the stairs three at a time. It was the most noise her movements made since the back door. “It’s clear up here. For now—” A beat. “Get up here.”

Rarity had almost opened the last door in the lounge, but the firm urgency of Mirage’s order brought her around. The banging from the previous door was getting louder, and the sounds from the back suggested the Manehattan officers were almost inside. Celestia forbid she be forced to kill any of those ponies to save her own skin, but if it became necessary…

Oh, right. Library. Libraries meant bookshelves. Rarity stood at the top of the stairs and spotted Mirage pressed against one, both guns out and looking like she was stalking somepony. Hurrying to the opposite bookshelf and pulling her own weapons out, Rarity kept her voice low. “If you would, please use that prodigious horn of yours to block the stairs.”

Mirage raised an eyebrow at her. “How?” Rarity responded by tapping Silver Lining lightly against her bookshelf. The alicorn cocked her head, brow furrowing, but then the light came on behind her eyes. A second later, no less than three bookshelves were laid on top of the stairs, book-side up for the extra weight. Rarity ignored her mild jealousy. “Let’s see those earth ponies break through that.”

She then pointed through the bookshelves between them with one of her guns. “See that door?” Indeed, it was impossible to miss. “Tempest just went in there.”

And Tempest, head of the chancellor’s security, would probably make herself the personal defense of the stallion himself. Rarity nodded firmly. “Block the door to the hall so we won’t get flanked, then we hit them.”

“And about time,” Mirage growled as the last two available bookshelves slid up against the door in her magic’s opal aura. “That mare rubs me the wrong way.”

“Part of the job description, I imagine.” Rarity stepped out from behind her bookshelf and made for the door. She’d intended to breach the entrance together, being careful to avoid any shots fired prematurely from the other side. Once again, Mirage had her own ideas, slamming shoulder-first into the door. It burst open, a large crack running right up the middle, and she was inside. Rarity bit back a curse, made a mental note to talk about their teamwork after this, and followed.

“Come back here, we just want to talk!” Because slamming shoulder-first through a door like some bandit was the best way to show peaceful intentions.

Rarity was just in time to see a dark tail slip through a closing door. They were in some sort of office, the walls lined with filing cabinets and a wide desk at the back. Windows on their right illuminated stacks of papers, used up inkwells, and a worn wicker chair in the corner. Between the two mares and the desk – and thus between them and the door the presumed chancellor had slipped through – was Tempest, one hand raised to steady her grenade launcher and her teeth bared in a menacing snarl.

“Ponies who want to talk,” she seethed, “don’t barge through doors.”

Rarity barely resisted a cry of 'That's what I as thinking!' Barely.

“Don’t give us that bullshit,” Mirage spat right back, both weapons aimed and ready. “What were we supposed to do? You lied to us and sicced the cops!”

“I’m many things,” Tempest fired back, “but I’m no liar.”

“That’s crap and you—!”

Actually…” Rarity kept her focus on that grenade launcher rather than the mare holding it. “I think she’s right. She never said we could see the chancellor, only that we could pass through the house.”

Mirage’s face went red as she shot Rarity a wide-eyed look. “Who’s side are you on?”

“The losing side,” Tempest growled. Her attention was entirely on Mirage. Perhaps she saw her as the greater threat? Rarity was more than prepared to capitalize on that. “I didn’t want to do this, but if you keep coming I will fire this thing.”

Rarity believed it. If she had the layout of this house right at all, that room the chancellor has slipped through would be a dead end. Assuming that was the chancellor at all, but if so, then this would be the ‘last stand’, so to speak. Tempest couldn’t back down, not if she was intent on doing her job. Maybe if she could talk her down—

Mirage stomped closer and took on an aggressive stance. “Bring it, bitch!”

Bullets flew. At the same time, a loud 'thunk' sound signaled the grenade launcher firing not one, but multiple rounds at once like some kind of shotgun.

Rarity moved 'talk to Sunset about teamwork' much higher on her mental checklist.  Right at the tippy top, in fact.

The good news was that she’d dealt with explosives before. Her response was practically muscle memory at this point – or perhaps that would be ‘magic’ memory? Her horn lit up, caught all six of the miniature grenades before they could reach Mirage, and sent them flying back. One of them even landed right in the big barrel of Tempest’s launcher. The giant of a mare had just enough time to show her shock and ignite her horn.

A wave of heat and shrapnel slammed Rarity into the wall, sending a spike of pain up her arm. The world spun, but only for a second or two, and she managed to stay on her hooves. Stumbling forward, she tried moving her arm. Sore, but definitely not broken. Her other arm was bleeding profusely. No time to check it. Her attention went to the other side of the room, still obscured by smoke.

“Rarity, are you—?”

Rarity took Silver Lining in her magic, freeing her hand to point at Mirage. “You be quiet and let me try to diffuse the situation.” Mirage – no, Sunset Shimmer – looked hurt. She opened her mouth as if to retort, but Rarity was already stalking away. She looked fine, a few cuts notwithstanding, and Rarity wasn’t going to give her aggression a chance to make things worse.

Against all odds, Tempest was still alive. The burly mare was on her knees, curled and clutching at her face. No moans or cries of pain, but her breaths were quick and sharp. Blood seeped between her taut fingers, and her shoulder was a burned mess with bits of metal embedded in the now-exposed flesh. Rarity steeled herself, worried about what might have become of the mare’s face.

“Miss Tempest?” Warily, she stepped close. The mare didn’t move from her vulnerable, shivering position on the floor. “Oh, dear. Listen, we’ll try to find you some help, okay?” Dropping to one knee, Rarity holstered Ruby Heart and reached a tentative hand for the mare’s back. “I just need you to—”

The air left her. It took her a second to realize that a fist was pressed against her gut. She blinked as a truly gruesome sight appeared in her vision. That hideous mess of blood and burnt skin was Tempest’s face. The shattered mess of her horn sent a tingling ghost of pain through Rarity’s own. The wound over her clenched right eye would have made her gasp had she any oxygen with which to do so. And the other eye?

Only one pony had ever looked at her like that before. A pony who nearly killed her. Her name was Stormy Flare, and just the thought of facing a pony like that again was enough to make Rarity’s heart freeze. That was all the snarling Tempest needed; she grabbed Rarity’s head and slammed it hard into the floor.


Mirage was too busy being angry at herself for being so aggressive to realize what was happening until it was too late. She heard the thunk and looked up to find her friend lifted off the ground by the throat. A bloody and burnt Tempest was snarling in the mare’s face, her shattered horn giving off frightening streaks of electricity. Mirage raised Luna and her Desert Eagle, but she’d have to shoot through Rarity to hit Tempest!

Just as panic started to threaten, Tempest’s horn released a radiating blast of energy. Mirage covered her eyes, the force of the shockwave making her drop her weapons and take a bracing backstep. She cried out as the heat of it washed over her. Under the sharp buzz of magical residue came the sound of shattering glass, wood cracking, and a surprised cry that, oddly, sounded like Tempest herself.

Her eyes blinking away the sudden flash, Mirage took in a disaster area. The floor was burnt black, papers halfway reduced to ash fluttered about, the windows were shattered, and the desk had been overturned. Tempest lay behind it, only her legs visible where they dangled over the blackened furniture. The mare groaned and started to stand, rubbing at her head, but Mirage had other things on the mind.

Rarity. Where’s Rarity? She needed only turn around.

The wood of the wall was splintered and cracked. Below the impact spot sat her friend, eyes closed and blood dripping from beneath her frazzled mane. She was limp against the wall, hands splayed to her sides and head bowed. Mirage took in the sight and felt the ice creeping through her veins. That looked like a lot of blood.

“Rarity?” She knelt next to the mare, shaking her gently by the shoulder. There was no reaction whatsoever. “Rarity!” The beautiful pony’s chest rose and fell, so she was alive at the very least. How bad was the head wound? What if there was some internal damage? “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Mirage’s mind swirled with chaotic thoughts; how to help Rarity, how did this happen, what could she have done to prevent it? Her only friend in this world was about to die and she couldn’t hold onto a thought for long enough to do anything about it!

“Luna damn it, that hurt!” Mirage tensed at the sound of Tempest’s voice. “Stupid bitch. What kind of gunfighter breaks off a mare’s horn then tries to render aid? I thought the Bulletproof Heart was supposed to be smarter than that.”

Mirage whirled to face the pony, who was rubbing her soot-stained forehead over a pained cringe. “You! She was trying to help you, and you… You—!”

“And now she’s down for the count,” Tempest growled back. She straightened up, face still contorted in pain, and cracked her knuckles. “I’m crippled, I’m pissed, and now it’s your turn. You two owe me a horn!”

The ice in Mirage’s veins sublimated to steam as her world turned white. “Oh, I’ll give you a horn!


A sharp sting across the cheek welcomed Rarity back to the waking world. She groaned and raised her hand to block whatever was striking her. She felt like she’d gone a few rounds with a minotaur and dearly hoped she had won the fight so that all this soreness would be worth it. Her skull throbbed with her pulse, and when she felt at it her pearly hand came away smeared in blood. “Wah… W-what?” Over the drum beat in her skull was the sound of something cracking and a pained cry.

“Wake up. Wake up! Please, snap out of it.”

The desperate, deep voice jarred her from unsteady thoughts, most of which were related to trying to figure out what was going on. With effort, she cracked her eyes open. On his knees before her was a goateed unicorn with a black mane and a pale gray complexion.

The fact that her little pony made no attempt to correct her color terms was refreshing and worrying in equal measure.

“Oh, thank the Night Mother!” The stallion tugged on her shoulders, his eyes wild and teary. “Please, you have to stop this. She’s going to kill her!”

Kill her? Who was her? Where was she? Rarity tried to speak, coughed, sucked in a few breaths, then managed a, “What?”

He held her cheeks in his hands and stared into her eyes. Now that things were starting to clear, she could see panic clearly in his turquoise irises. “No, you can’t have a concussion. Not now! You’ve got to do something!”

Her bearings mostly reclaimed, Rarity pushed his hands away. “I have had a concussion before, sir. I’m pretty sure this isn’t one.” Sitting up from her place against the wall, she started to scan her surroundings. “Now what’s—?” Her heart shot into her throat.

In the middle of the scorched room floated an… an apparition. Sunset Shimmer, living up to her name by giving off a pale orange glow. Her wings were stretched wide and literally ablaze, the flames licking the ceiling and leaving black streaks in the wood. Her horn was a white torch that was painful to look at and her face was contorted in rage. Fire even burned from her eyes, pure white things that sizzled and popped and sent sparks flying through the hot air.

All this would have been alarming enough without the sight of Tempest floating in the mare’s overwhelming aura. She was beaten black and blue, and one of her arms was clearly broken. She appeared barely conscious, her lips trying to move, but before any sound could come out she was slammed back-first against the wall. And again. And again. And again, the wood warping and her head whipping like that of a doll.

“Please!” The stallion tugged on Rarity’s arm, more like a child than an adult in his terror. “Please, stop her!”

“My guns.” Rarity looked around, but everything was a mess of scattered papers and books and broken wood. “Where are my guns?!”

The stallion turned from her and, with a flash of his horn, pulled Ruby Heart out of the pile and levitated it towards her. She snatched it out of the air, but hesitated. If she was going to stop this, she needed something better. “The other one.” Tempest’s body slammed into the overturned desk, cracking it in two. “I need the other one!”

“Discord damn it!” The stallion turned and, with another flash, sent the papers and books flying. Amidst all the debris was a spot of silver and blue, which Rarity caught with her magic. Silver Lining came flying into her waiting palm while her other hand dug into her ammo pouch. She discarded one cylinder, then another as her magic removed the gun’s current one.

The stallion’s shook her by the shoulder. “Come on, come on…” Another crack of breaking bone, another weak cry. “Please hurry.

Ignoring his panic as best she could, Rarity found the cylinder she was after, swiftly slotting it into Silver Lining. She turned it until certain that one of the pale, blue-tinted bullets would fire next, then took aim. Mirage, still hovering, now held Tempest in the air by her throat. Her other hand, clenched in a fist and reared back, was covered in orange flames.

Just before the potentially lethal blow could come, the hammer landed and Silver Lining released the bullet. Blood splashed from Mirage’s leg above the knee… and then flash-froze in place. The upper leg gained a thin coating of ice in under a second and the literally flaming alicorn let out a horrifying shriek. Tempest fell to the floor in an undignified lump.

Mirage spun around to face her attacker with a snarl, only to pause at the sight of her partner. “Rarity?” Her voice had an odd, echoing quality to it as the flames of her wings and horn calmed slightly. “You’re alright.”

Heaving a deep, relieved breath, Rarity nodded and lowered her weapon. “My apologies, darling.”

Mirage’s pure white eyes, still crackling, stared at her for a couple seconds before abruptly narrowing. The ice on her leg began to sizzle and melt. “You shot me.”

As the stallion rushed to Tempest’s side, Rarity stumbled her way to a standing position. “Oh, don’t give me that. I’ve seen what your potions can do.”

The flames swirled and danced as Mirage let out a growl. “You shot me!”

Rarity gestured with both hands at the body of Tempest. When Mirage failed to follow the gesture, she did it again with greater emphasis. At last the levitating, fiery mare took a look at her handiwork. What she found was the stallion, tears in his eyes as he held Tempest close.

Mirage fell back from the sight, comprehension dawning upon her features. “I… I did that?” She looked at her hand, still blazing, as if not sure what it was. She shook it and the flame sputtered out, as did the rest of her. Wings and horn back to normal, she hit the floor like a marionette with the strings cut. A second later, her wings disappeared too and she was the younger Sunset again. “Oh, god, what did I just do?”

A banging sound could be heard nearby. Seemed the chancellor’s ponies were trying to get into the library. Ignoring that, Rarity went to stand next to her companion, stretching tender muscles as she did. “Remember what I told you about going on a murderous rampage?”

“But that’s not me!” Sunset looked up at her with the face of a kicked puppy, lost and hurt and oh-so desperate for understanding. “I-is it?”

“I don’t know,” Rarity admitted tiredly, but not without sympathy. “All I know is that you took this one much too far.”

Sunset whimpered but said nothing, seeming lost in her own worries. As much as Rarity wanted to help, they had more immediate concerns. She turned to the stallion. “Chancellor?”

He looked up at her, appearing just as broken as Sunset did. He stood up swiftly, interposing himself between her and the unconscious Tempest. “Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you? I demand to know!”

“We’re here to ask the same thing of you.” The chancellor didn’t seem much of a threat, especially considering how he hid throughout most of the fight. With a sigh, Rarity holstered her weapons. “If you promise not to sic them on us, I’ll go out there and let your ponies in so they can get Tempest the treatment she needs. I swear, sir, we only came here to talk.”

His glare only intensified, made all the worse by the tear stains on his cheeks. “You can’t expect me to believe that!”

“We never intended to attack like this,” Rarity reassured him, working to keep her tone as calm and placating as possible. “Things just… got out of control.” Sunset whimpered from her spot on the floor. “The one we’re really after is a kirin named Autumn Blaze.”

“I don’t care what your excuse is! Look at what you did to my Tempest!” He stood aside and flung a hand at the mare’s limp form. “You’ve crippled her. Crippled! Her horn, her b-beautiful horn…” He failed to choke back a sob, taking a moment to rub at his eyes with his purple robes. “I told her not to fight you, damn her pride.”

There came a crashing sound from behind. Rarity considered blocking the door, but decided against it. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble. She turned to Sunset. The mare appeared lost in her own thoughts. Depressing, self-critical thoughts, from the dour look on her face. “Sunset, darling? Miss Tempest could use your assistance.”

The distraught redhead shifted out of her trance-like state to look up at Rarity. “She what?”

Hoofsteps outside. Rarity chose not to rush. Neither Sunset nor the chancellor needed that. “A healing potion, Sunset. Tempest needs one. And so do you.”

Sunset blinked, then followed Rarity’s pointing finger to the bleeding wound in her leg. With a dazed “oh”, she reverted once more to her Mirage form and pulled three of the bottles out of thin air. Movements slow and mechanical, she handed two to Rarity and began drinking the other.

“Thank you.” Rarity turned back to the chancellor just as the door burst open.

Guns were pointed in several directions… but mostly at Rarity. “Chancellor Neighsay,” one of the guards shouted from behind his rifle. “Stand back!”

Ignoring the guns and the barked orders, Rarity offered Neighsay the healing potion in her hand. He stared at her, chest heaving with his heavy breaths, hands trembling. Still seeing his understandable doubt, she tried for a smile. “Tempest aside, we have not harmed a single one of your ponies, and her only because she refused to back down. I swear, all we want is Autumn Blaze, and then only so that she’ll return what she stole from us. You can give us what we want and we’ll be out of your life, or you can refuse and we have to defend ourselves.” She shook the potion gently before him, drawing his eye to it. “It’s your move, Chancellor. How this goes is entirely up to you.”

With weapons aimed at them, the room in disarray, Tempest bleeding out on the floor, and Mirage cradling her empty bottle as one might a teddy bear… Neighsay hesitated. His eyes drifted to Rarity’s partner, perhaps taking note of her healed leg. He glanced at his guards crowding the door, every one of them awaiting his order with bated breath. His ears perked to Tempest’s hacking cough.

That last one was the deciding factor; he took the bottle. “Stand down.”

“But sir—!”

“I said stand down!” He turned to kneel next to Tempest. “Go back into the library and wait for my order. And shut the door!” He carefully poured the liquid down Tempest’s throat. “These mares and I have things to discuss.”

Only now that the situation was de-escalated did Rarity drink her own potion.


Night had fallen upon Manehattan before things calmed down at the chancellor’s estate. The stallion reluctantly let them stay while he cleaned up the mess that had been made. It may have been that he didn’t think he could get rid of them anyway. Rarity was determined that they not leave until they had the answers they sought, and it looked like he’d resigned himself to their presence.

Even so, the waiting was torture for Sunset.

She could still vividly recall her actions, the way she tore into Tempest like a… She wasn't even sure what word was appropriate. ‘Monster’ seemed too tame.

Should she talk to somepony about this? She felt like she should. Rarity would have been the best choice. She’d alluded to these kinds of terrible reactions in the past, but the thought of speaking about it always stilled her tongue. She didn’t even understand why beyond a heart-wrenching dread that made her body tremble and her blood run cold.

Worse, Rarity made no attempt to bring it up herself. The unicorn busied herself with helping fix the damage and being, for lack of a better description, Rarity. She spoke to ponies. Not in the way an average pony might, but in the way only a pony gifted in social graces could. The sheer level of charm unleashed was enough to endear everypony she set her sights on. Ponies who not an hour ago had been trying to shoot her were all smiles and acceptance and ‘let bygones be bygones’, and all the mare had to offer them was a little bit of her time.

Sunset knew what she was witnessing. Back when she’d been the terror of Canterlot High, she wielded words like a knife; in one minute she could be cutting bread and spreading butter, and the next she’d be carving out hearts. A pony who understood language recognized words were tools and could use them effectively. Rarity understood words, but she wielded them with a finesse that put Sunset to shame. Not because she was better at it. There was no appropriate way to compare Rarity’s method to Old Sunset’s. Apples to oranges and all that.

The thing that made Rarity so much better was honesty. She never offered a compliment she didn’t mean. When she tried to help, it was because she genuinely wanted to. When she asked a question, not even the most cynical pony could detect false interest. Her every interaction was positive, and she made it look so easy. Even New Sunset found it enviable.

She received a little of that positivity. The occasional query or checkup, a brief conversation here or there. But Rarity spent most of the time with others. Sunset understood. It was diplomacy. Strategy. Get on everyone’s good side to make up for what just happened, assuage hurt feelings, avoid anymore fighting in the near future. It made sense, and she was far better equipped to do it.

Still, that didn’t stop Sunset from moping when the mare wasn’t around. She couldn’t help it. After what had happened, her brain couldn’t get away from the sheer guilt. It kept circling around the same topics, seeking answers, trying to understand her behavior, grasping at what-ifs and could-have-beens. The absolute worst part was the memory of Tempest’s eyes – eye – when she first realized what she was up against. It was a fleeting moment, only a second and ended prematurely by the superhot blast of magic Mirage had smashed her face with. It was the wild-eyed comprehension that she was facing something far beyond the scope of her abilities. It was the expression a pony gained when faced with an abomination.

Oh, look. Sunset had found a good word for herself after all.

These thoughts consumed her so thoroughly that she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but marinate in them. In her 'mortal' form, she sat in a simple dining chair in a hallway next to a door behind which Tempest and Chancellor Neighsay had sequestered themselves. Plenty of ponies went through that door. Doctors, guards, hired guns, workers, whoever needed guidance through the ongoing mayhem. If any of them paid her any mind, she couldn’t say. She wasn’t paying them any attention.

That was given exclusively to her phone. More specifically, the pictures she had of Luna. Here, of the woman doing paperwork for CHS and nursing a mug of coffee with 'Blame my sister.' emblazoned on the side. There, sporting a GGO shirt and focused intensely on her computer screen, lost in some game. The one at a local fair, trying to feed one another cotton candy and making a sticky mess of things. That one always made her smile, even when she felt on the verge of crying.

She knew it was a stupid, pointless idea. That didn’t stop her from trying to give Luna a call. Not that there was a signal. She couldn’t even get to the woman’s voicemail. The most mundane means of hearing her voice, and even that was taken from her.

A lesser mare would have broken at that point. Sunset seriously considered letting herself break. She was one wrong word away from bringing up her hud and futilely begging an unawares Twilight for an escape from this world. She wanted to go home. To eat bad takeout and fight traffic and chat with her friends and Luna, oh Celestia but she wanted to see Luna right now.

“Sunset?”

Snapped out of her borderline panic, Sunset blinked up at the pony standing before her. It was Rarity, her expression a master class in concern. “Y-yeah?”

“I’m sorry, darling.” The unicorn knelt down and reached out to touch her shoulder. “You look a fright. How are you feeling?”

Sunset sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Like a fright.”

Her attempt at being cheeky only made Rarity’s concerned frown deepen. She imagined her smile wasn’t helping. It probably looked more like a grimace. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sunset’s entire body tensed in an effort to hold back the tears. She pulled it off, but there was no preventing Rarity from noticing the moisture in her eyes, especially with how they burned. Rubbing them clean, she muttered a miserable, “I just want to go home.”

No hollow platitudes were offered. Only that reassuring smile. For all Sunset’s worries and anxieties, a little voice noted that such a smile could probably melt through stallions like butter. Was her Rarity this good at simply being ‘good’, or was this one unique in that regard?

“What do you say we finally have that talk with Neighsay?” Rarity suggested as she stood up.

Following the motion, Sunset gladly replied, “I’d like nothing better.” She led the way into the nearby room, pausing only to knock. Rarity had taken great strides to ease the tension these ponies felt for them, it would be a pity to ruin that by not being polite.

They entered a bedroom, much to Sunset’s surprise. She’d been thinking maybe an office or a study. Instead they found a four-post bed, two tall windows with heavy red curtains opened to let in the fading sunlight, and Tempest lying unconscious under the sheets. Chancellor Neighsay was in a chair beside her, one hand gripping the big mare’s tightly and his eyes on the ground. Upon hearing the door open, he gave them both a foul look. “Do keep it down,” he growled. “She only just fell asleep.”

This was the first chance Sunset had to see the damage Mirage had wrought. Not that she could see much, as Tempest was well-covered, but her head alone was enough. It was wrapped in bandages, only one eye visible. There was something like a cone set upon her horn, hiding the worst of the damage. Even so, Sunset remembered the jagged, shattered shape. Seemed there were some things even one of her potions couldn't heal. It made her own horn sore and brought back the whip of guilt. Swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry throat, she asked, “Will she be okay?”

Neighsay’s glare didn’t ease up. “As long as you consider losing an eye and half your horn ‘okay’, then yes, the doctors claim she should recover.”

The venom in his words might have stung, but they finally gave Sunset something to relax over. “Good. I’m—”

“Save it.” He turned his face towards Tempest, his hold on her hand firming. “I don’t believe you, and I won’t have you insulting her with your insincerity.”

An ice pick lodged its way into Sunset’s heart, but she bit down on the desire to defend herself. He had every right to be furious with her, even given that it was technically Rarity who did that particular bit of damage. Then there was how he stared at the bedridden mare. There was no way she was ‘just’ his head of security. She looked to Rarity, helpless and hoping for some assistance.

The mare was up to the task. She went to stand beside the chancellor, her hands folded neatly as she followed his gaze. “We understand that you want us gone. We’ll be more than happy to leave you in peace. But not until we get what we came here for.”

For a time, the chancellor said nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, he kissed the unawares Tempest’s hand, laid it reverently on the bed, and stood to face them. “Let’s have this conversation elsewhere.” Neither mare argued.

Five minutes later, they were in a lounge, the walls a dark green. There was a large coffee table in the corner surrounded by five plush chairs, and each of them settled in one. Neighsay had one of his servants deliver to him a flute of wine, a pleasure he didn’t bother offering them. Not that Sunset was going to complain, of course.

“So,” he said after taking a fortifying sip. “You want Autumn Blaze.” Peering over his glass, he finally asked the one thing that might have let them all avoid the day’s excitement. “Why?”

Sunset started to speak, but caught herself. Talking out of turn hadn’t helped them in the past twenty-four hours. She glanced at Rarity, who took that as her cue to represent them in this little meeting. “She sent your ponies to attack me, and at the same time convinced bounty hunters to attack Sunset here in both my name and yours.” Crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap, she was the epitome of prim and proper. “I’m sure you can understand why we’d both be rather… incensed.”

She wasn’t going to mention the stolen cards? On second thought, maybe that made sense. It wasn’t like they could outright tell the chancellor that they were seeking magical cards that could transport ponies through time and space.

Chancellor Neighsay let out a throaty hum that spoke of his displeasure. “So the stories of the Bulletproof Heart being a mare of vengeance have a bit of truth to them.”

Rarity may have maintained her cool calm, but there was no mistaking the way she bristled at the accusation. “This is about clearing the air, Chancellor. Autumn Blaze is trying to have us killed. Surely you can understand that we want to know why and, if at all possible, do something about it.”

“Yes,” he grumbled, setting his wine flute down on the coffee table. “I suppose I do. I would like to say I find your accusations towards her ridiculous, but…” He paused, lips pursed and eyes gazing at something between and beyond them.

“I found Autumn Blaze eight years ago. She had my interest for no other reason than being a kirin. The idea of them leaving their island sanctuaries is all but unheard of. Curiosity led to friendship, and I ended up giving her a job. She’s tenacious, patient, and loyal. Where Tempest is my firm right fist, Autumn is my confidential left hand. In all these years, I’ve had little reason to question her.”

Sensing the shift in tone, Sunset leaned closer. “Something changed.”

He nodded grimly. “Did you know Autumn is mute?”

Sunset cast a curious look Rarity’s way.

“She informed me herself,” the unicorn admitted, her focus remaining steadfast upon the chancellor. She looked every bit the leader discussing matters of state. “When she invited me on her – apologies, your airship in order to try and convince me to fight Sunset myself.”

“Which you did,” Sunset noted grimly.

“Indeed. After you shot down said airship.”

The chancellor’s hands gripped the armrests of his seat and he glared at Sunset once more. “That was my private airship.”

Sunset sniffed her disdain at his manner. “The fact that you even had a ‘private’ airship says a lot, and none of it good.”

Neighsay appeared as though he might throw them both out right then, but Rarity’s prim and confident words slipped between them. “Now, Sunset, owning an airship has its uses. I for one think you may owe the chancellor an apology.” Now it was Sunset glaring at Rarity, who met it with a patient-yet-neutral expression. “For lives lost if nothing else.”

That line was like a needle in the balloon of Sunset’s anger, popping it instantly. Right. Lives lost. That had been a rather stupid move on her part. Heaving a sigh, she returned her attention to the ever-glowering Neighsay. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about the harm I caused all those ponies on the airship.”

He continued to stare at her in the same way one did when deciding what gun class would be most effective, but eventually he sighed and shook his head. “We’re getting off topic. Autumn Blaze.”

“Indeed.” Rarity nodded, leaning back in her chair like she owned the building. “So she’s a mute. I assume that is relevant to our search.”

He nodded in turn, taking a moment only to reclaim his wine flute and take another sip. “According to what she told me, Autumn’s tribe came to the conclusion that communication is the cause of all conflict. She declined to explain how, but they discovered a way to curse one another into muteness. Autumn rebelled against this, but they forced the curse upon her anyway. Disgusted by their actions, she left her island and went in search of a cure.”

The flute rotated lazily in Neighsay’s magic, his eyes observing the steadily swaying liquid inside. “That search consumes her. She hates her curse, and she hates those who gave it to her. As loyal and capable as she is, I have seen her abandon her position for weeks at a time in pursuit of whispers of a solution, only to come back empty handed and more bitter than before.”

Another sip. The flute glass, now empty, was once more set on the coffee table. Neighsay waved off a servant’s offer to refill it. “Autumn did issue orders to my men, which I didn’t hear about until weeks after it happened. She was already using the Berrytwist, but that was for her current assignment and entirely legitimate. Then she went and changed its flight plan without going through the proper channels. She came here afterwards, tells me I’m about to be personally attacked, and heads to the Arcaenum. Before I know it, she’s disappeared again.”

Sunset clasped her hands together, elbows on her chair’s armrests, and considered this news. She shared a long, thoughtful look with Rarity. “You think she’s going after another one of those ‘whispers’?”

When he met her gaze, it was without the anger he normally sent her way. This time he just looked tired. “It’s the only excuse I can think of for her behavior. Autumn is remarkably dependable and even predictable so long as she’s not pursuing that blasted cure, and what’s been going on this season is far from normal for her.”

So they had a smart and powerful kirin driven to potential madness by a curse and willing to kill over it. Wonderful. A small part of Sunset wondered if losing the ability to speak was really worth so much trouble. Another part pointed out that mommy issues were no excuse to brainwash a school, become a she-demon and attempt to murder people with magical hellfire. Quietly conceding the point, she pivoted to another important topic: why the cards? There was no way Autumn Blaze knew about the Isekai.

Then again, if Rarity and Sunset could have one each…

That still wouldn’t explain why Autumn would want a pair of cards she couldn’t use.

Rarity interrupted her pondering to ask, “Do you know why she went to the Arcaenum?”

Arcaenum. Sunset wasn’t sure what that was, so she put aside her thoughts in favor of paying more attention.

Neighsay nodded, standing from his seat and moving away from them. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at one of the larger pictures on the wall. Going by the facial similarities, perhaps a close relative. A father? Grandfather? “I took the liberty of sending somepony to poke around. Autumn paid a mage to cast a tracking spell on something. It must have worked, for she left immediately after.”

Rarity, clearly knowing what answer she would receive, nonetheless asked, “I don’t suppose you know where she went?”

“I’m afraid that, as usual in these bouts of adventuring, she did not bother to inform me. I can tell you that she commandeered an airship from a local merchant to get there, and her heading was south.”

Rarity’s lips pursed as she thought on this. “So she cast tracking spells on our items. Perhaps she is using them to keep away from us.”

Neighsay’s ear flicked her way. “It’s not like Autumn to avoid a fight.”

But what other reason could there be? If she intended to use a tracking spell to plan an ambush, she was doing it wrong. It could have been done well before they got to Manehattan. Or heck, Autumn could have just attacked them here, in the midst of all the chaos. She wouldn’t still be in the city, else why ‘commandeer’ an airship?

Rarity heaved a sigh and rubbed at her forehead. “I miss the days when I was just a clothier.”

Of course, Rarity would find comfort in the idea of sewing. If there was anything all Rarities had in common it was—

Wait. All the Rarities. They were hunting for cards to the Isekai, which was run by a different Sunset Shimmer, who was originally bankrolled by a different Rarity. There were multiple Rarities out there. There were multiple Sunset Shimmers out there. And that meant…

Sunset sat up with a start, one hand reaching out to grasp her companion’s arm. “Rarity. There’s another me.”

“Well, I—” Rarity paused, glancing between Neighsay still studying that painting and Sunset. “I’m not sure this is the right place to discuss such matters.”

“No, you don’t get it.” Sunset leaned a little closer, looking the mare in the eyes to better get her point across. “Autumn is using a tracking spell. It’s going to be detecting the location of Rarity Belle and Sunset Shimmer.” She slapped a hand to her chest. “But there’s more than one, isn’t there? You said there was.”

A heartbeat. Two. Three.

Horrified comprehension dawned in those blue eyes. “Oh, dear. Um, Chancellor Neighsay, I don’t suppose we could bother you for one small, itty bitty little favor?”