//------------------------------// // Chapter 55 // Story: Hostile History // by Jest //------------------------------// “Woah,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “You look like shit.” “Rainbow,” Rarity hissed. “For once I must agree with Miss Dash’s rather bullish remarks,” Perfect Tempo replied. “I didn't think you’d show up quite as quickly as you did,” Sunset admitted. “I was already speaking to someone in the same building when it occurred to me I did not warn you of my arrival. Apologies,” Perfect Tempo offered. “Uh yeah, no problem,” Sunset muttered. “What are y'all standing around for? Let the poor guy in already!” Pinkie Pie yelled. “Oh, right. Sorry about that,” Applejack murmured. The farm girl stepped out of the doorway, allowing Perfect Tempo to fully enter the penthouse, the door closing behind him. Once inside, the man took a moment to correct the crooked collar of his shirt and stand a little straighter. “Now then. I’m sure we have much to discuss, though first could we perhaps speak somewhere a bit more comfortable?” Perfect Tempo asked. Sunset Shimmer extended a hand toward the living room. “Go right ahead, sit down wherever.” “Thank you Sunset,” Perfect Tempo muttered. The man walked solemnly into the next room, going right past the couches and stopping at the wall-to-wall windows. “Steal cage protocol,” stated the man. A metal wall immediately fell over the windows, loudly clattering down before clicking into place. In an instant the city outside was no longer visible, blocked out by an all-encompassing steel barrier. By the sounds of it, the other windows in the suite were also now locked down, with the rattle of metal resounding from all directions. “Was all that necessary?” Applejack muttered. “It is better to be safe, than sorry,” Perfect Tempo replied, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Besides, from the outside, they will resemble normal windows, so you need not worry about the curious attention of others.” “Daww, our deck,” Pinkie Pie muttered. Perfect Tempo gestured to the couches. “Please, have a seat,” he urged. “You’re not going to join us? You seem to need a rest more than any of us,” Fluttershy offered. “No,” Perfect Tempo answered. “After I have said what needs to be said I will relax, but until then I will stand. Now, if you would please sit.” The seven exchanged glances before reluctantly doing just that, the girls all piling into the largest of the three couches. Fluttershy sat on Rarity’s lap, while Pinkie Pie pulled Rainbow Dash and Applejack tight on either side of her. Sunset held Twilight close, the nerdy girl’s nervous shaking dissipating somewhat once Sunset’s hand gripped her shoulder. “Now, there will be time for talk at the end, but before we get to that I must inform you of the general situation,” Perfect Tempo began, the man pacing slowly back and forth in front of the television. “To start with, no, there is no way we get out of this one unscathed.” Each one of the girls wanted to speak, to console, to question, to demand answers but they held back. Something about the somber, quiet, and clearly exhausted manner in which Perfect Tempo carried himself was unnerving. For this man had been unflappable until this point. Unbothered while covered in gore, polite even after killing another man, and coordinated while striding amidst the chaos of battle, he was always presentable. Until now. “The spread of information is too great, and the amount of interest my holdings have gathered is too significant to contend with,” Perfect Tempo continued. “The government and other more ancient and secretive organizations have turned their gaze towards this small city. It won't be long before we see federal agents roaming the streets, and a horde of reporters sweeping over everything in search of answers.” “I have slowed things down as much as possible, pulled out every stop I had, and played every card I held but it wasn't enough,” Perfect Tempo remarked. “Though my own people have prepared for this possibility, you have not. Which leaves us at an impasse.” Perfect Tempo stopped and turned to face the seven young women fully. “You have stood with me so far, but you need not do so any longer if it is not your wish,” Perfect Tempo declared. “Well heck yeah we’re with you,” Rainbow Dash declared. “You should not be so eager to volunteer for a job you know nothing about,” Perfect Tempo warned. Rainbow Dash grumbled to herself and sat back down. “What I offer you is two options, one is simple. You and your respective families will be sent into deep cover,” Perfect Tempo began. “The scrutiny you all will begin to receive over the coming days will ensure that you don't have a quiet, private moment for the rest of your lives. Unless that is, you accept my offer and follow my instructions.” There was a moment of silence. “Or?” Sunset Shimmer asked. “Or, you join me in taking the fight to Celestia and saving this world from a never-ending rain of problems deposited here by the bitch queen herself,” Perfect Tempo concluded. Sunset Shimmer frowned, the girl taken aback by the sheer fury contained within that one word, bitch. Clearly, there was history there, more than that it was also personal, very personal. “I can't leave my family,” Applejack exclaimed. “But think about it A.J. Would they really be safe with the media storm that's about to hit them?” Rainbow Dash asked. Applejack frowned and crossed her arms. “I don't rightly know,” Applejack admitted. “But I do know it doesn't feel right to just leave them high and dry by their lonesome.” “If you do choose to join me I will make sure that they brought somewhere far away. Somewhere they won't be hounded by reporters, governments, or anyone searching for you,” Perfect Tempo replied. “Furthermore they will never need for money again.” “But can't we stay together and go into your witness protection program?” Rarity asked, her grip tightening around Fluttershy’s waist. “Yeah, I’d rather not leave you all, or Sunset especially,” Twilight remarked. Sunset couldn't help but smile despite everything. “I’m going to be frank with you. You all are not the least bit inconspicuous. If even two of you stay together the chances of being discovered become nearly a hundred percent,” Perfect Tempo answered. “And all that is assuming that humanity doesn't reverse engineer magic detection technology. At which point it would only be a matter of time until you all are found out.” “This sucks,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “No kidding,” Pinkie Pie added. “So either we go with you and are able to stay together, or we split up, go back to our families, and pray that others don't figure out how to locate magic,” Rarity reasoned aloud. “Which wouldn't be long. A year maybe,” Twilight reasoned. “I was able to whip up a detector quickly only because I had a consistent source which I could use to calibrate my equipment against, screening out everything else.” “We give them three years at the absolute maximum,” Perfect Tempo remarked. “We have sown enough distrust amongst their various branches that they will need long-term consistent effort if they are to break through the red tape.” “Still, it's only a matter of time, and when they do…” Twilight murmured. “Um, I’m not thrilled about this idea but is there any way to hide our magic?” Fluttershy gently inquired. “There is,” Perfect Tempo answered, frowning all the while. “But it is not a pleasant process even for humans. Once you have awakened that part of yourself cutting it off is like severing a limb.” “If it's anything like a unicorn losing their horn it's even worse than the loss of an arm or leg,” Sunset reasoned. “I’ve heard stories of mages going mad or doing unspeakable things in hopes of getting their magic back.” “Okay, so that's not an option,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “So we go with you then,” Pinkie Pie offered. “We can stay together, our families will be safe, and once we whoop Celestia’s butt we can come back then right?” Perfect Tempo hummed thoughtfully. “Presumably so,” he answered after a long pause. “The threat of discovery will be forever present. We have inadvertently instigated a paradigm shift within humanity, and nothing will likely ever be the same again.” “Surely this one incident won't cause all that,” Twilight reasoned. “Magic is everywhere, even here on earth,” Perfect Tempo retorted. “It has remained hidden out of necessity, and centuries of propaganda against its existence. Now that the news is out, and the most powerful nation on earth has acknowledged its existence there will come an arms race that will put the Cold War to shame.” “This is so… gloomy,” Pinkie Pie whispered. Rainbow Dash and Applejack squeezed Pinkie Pie tightly, creating a barrier around the increasingly dour girl. “Well I think it's about decided that we’re stickin with ya when you stick it to this Celestia character,” Applejack offered, glancing about the room. “After that, I reckon we cross that bridge when we get to it.” “I concur,” Sunset Shimmer stated. “I’m in,” Rainbow Dash offered. “I suppose if it is the only way to stay with my little angel,” Rarity remarked, squeezing Fluttershy’s hand in emphasis. “Leaving Earth completely sounds scary, but leaving Rarity and the rest of you girls is even more frightening,” Fluttershy replied. “I can't just leave you girls. Not after what we’ve been through,” Twilight declared. “Woohoo, the mane seven is on a warpath! Look out Celestia, we are coming to kick your butt!” Pinkie Pie proclaimed. “That is… nice to hear,” Perfect Tempo admitted, a small, sly smile slipping onto his face. “Very few of those under my employ have volunteered to follow me to Equestria, so to hear that you seven will be joining gives me confidence in our chance of victory.” “Wait, what about Chrysalis?” Pinkie Pie suddenly asked. “I’ll be returning alongside you,” Chrysalis offered. All eyes turned to where the humanoid changeling was standing at the entrance to the living room. A look of determination was on her no longer tear-strewn face. “I thought you were gonna make an army or whatever,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “I see now that is impossible,” Chrysalis admitted. “Humans are much too paranoid and omnipresent in this world to make such a thing possible. Furthermore, I wouldn't miss the opportunity to get my revenge on Celestia.” “We will discuss your exact role more in the coming days,” Perfect Tempo remarked. “For now, know that I appreciate you throwing in with us as it were.” “So long as the path leads to Celestia’s ruin, I will walk alongside you for however long it takes,” Chrysalis proclaimed. “Now then,” Perfect Tempo began anew. “I have much to do in the coming days and must be off but before I go I must offer you one final suggestion. He paused, and looked out over the small group, making sure to meet each of their gazes one at a time. “Most of you have family that you will miss. Now is the time to go to them, to say your goodbyes,” Pear Butter continued. “Conclude what business you have here no matter how small so that it does not weigh on you in the future. There will come a time, sooner than you may like, where such weight would be a death sentence and you cannot allow this to come about.” “I uh, think I know what you mean,” Applejack remarked. “Yes, I suppose tidying things up a bit before we depart is only natural,” Rarity added. “I gotta eat so many cakes!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. “I was only a quarterway through my pastry bucket list!” “Ya ain't dyin' Pinkie. They still got cake in Equestria,” Rainbow Dash replied, only to pause and glance to Sunset Shimmer. “They do still have cake there, right?” “Obviously,” Sunset Shimmer answered while rolling her eyes. “Yeah, but we don't know if they have the same ingredients over there. Plus our whole biology will change when we go there so like, would a chocolate chip cookie taste the same here as it would there?” Pinkie Pie asked. “Huh, I never thought about that,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “Regardless,” Perfect Tempo interrupted. “You will have precious little time to wrap things up as it were before we must depart so I urge you to begin working through your metaphorical lists as soon as you wake tomorrow.” “We will,” Sunset Shimmer replied. “Then I will bid you good evening,” Perfect Tempo declared, walking toward the exit, but pausing when next to Sunset Shimmer. “We will speak more soon, for the moment I have several important calls I must make.” Sunset Shimmer nodded. Perfect Tempo walked away, swiftly departing the penthouse and closing the door behind him. As his footsteps fell into the background, becoming inaudible, the girls remained silent, each ruminating on their own inner turmoil. “What strange bedfellows I have made,” Chrysalis mused aloud. “Oh, you wanna sleep with us?” Pinkie Pie half asked, half stated. “That's cool, you can totally hop in with me! I totally hate sleeping alone anyway.” “Pinkie, you mustn't be so quick to offer such a thing. We barely know her,” Rarity hissed. “Well she does seem nice and I do like her vibe,” Fluttershy murmured. “I will take you up on that, pink one,” Chrysalis declared. “My own misery is far less potent when close to such a well of positivity.” “So just like, sleep then? That's cool I guess,” Rainbow Dash remarked. “Though if you wish to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, I must admit I am curious about my new anatomy,” Chrysalis mused aloud. “On second thought, maybe we should pull out one of these couches. They do pull out, right,” Twilight asked. “Of course, I would. I have no desire to slow one of you with pregnancy,” Chrysalis flippantly remarked. “Damn girl you freaky. I like it,” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. “Pinkie,” Rarity hissed. “Engaging in such behavior after what Chrysalis has gone through would be akin to preying upon someone in their weakest moments.” “No, I think it’s actually-” Pinkie Pie began. Sunset Shimmer tuned the conversation out, aware even at this point, that it was not about to end anytime soon. She also recognized the teasing look on Chrysalis’ face and knew that it was all at least in some small part, an act. There was also the looming mystery of the calls mentioned by Perfect Tempo only a few moments ago. What exactly was he intending on doing? Was it purely business? Sunset Shimmer couldn't be certain, but the way he said it with such grim finality made the young girl wonder. Perfect Tempo slipped into the back of the limousine and fell into the closest chair with a dull thump. The moment he was seated, and the door behind him closed, the vehicle began to move. The man simply sat there, enjoying the quiet thrum of the engine, and the cool false leather seats under him. It wasn't meant to last, however, as the silent staring of his assistant was beginning to grate. Though the small, waifish female didn't glare or seem impatient, her presence was enough to drive Perfect Tempo to action. Exhaling slowly, he ran a hand down his suit and fixed his crooked collar. “Right then. Who do we have first?” Perfect Tempo inquired. “The president, sir,” offered the assistant. “Of which nation?” Perfect Tempo replied. “Um, this one,” she answered. Perfect Tempo sighed. “I should have known. Apologies, Estoc. I think this entire debacle has taken more out of me than I care to admit.” “It's perfectly alright sir. Are you sure you don't want a coffee or something first?” Estoc prompted, gesturing to the small mini bar under one of the handrests. “No,” Perfect Tempo stated. “I’m feeling much better already.” “Should I prepare the spell, sir?” prompted the young, smartly dressed woman. “Yes, but don't connect until I give you the word,” Perfect Tempo answered. Estoc nodded and reached into a bag resting on the seat beside her. From within the black velvet confines, she produced a small perfectly spherical object not unlike an enormous pearl. The milky depths of the seeing stone swam quietly, shifting on some unseen breeze. While his assistant began the initiation spells, Perfect Tempo retrieved a small hand mirror from a pocket of his coat. After viewing himself from several angles, he snapped his fingers, sending a small shower of golden sparks over his chest. In an instant, his crinkled, and slightly battered coat had fixed itself, with the rest of his appearance following suit. Once done, he gave one final look over before seating himself as comfortably as he could muster. Now confident, he glanced over to his assistant and gave her a firm, confident nod. The nod was returned, though she was far less enthused than he was, as well as far less self-assured. With the sign given, Estoc waved a faintly glowing olive-skinned hand over the orb, banishing the swirling miasma within. It didn't remain clear for long, as it soon started to swirl with the same purple that had clung to Estoc’s fingers a moment earlier. This violent smoke billowed out of the orb and up into the air, coalescing before Perfect Tempo in a flat pseudo-screen. It took a moment for the smoke to coagulate completely, but when it did the surface was a perfect silver color. “Locating,” Estoc remarked. Perfect Tempo sat a little straighter, mentally running over what he planned on saying. “Locked, bringing it up,” Estoc muttered absently. The silver screen parted in the center to reveal what looked like a normal boardroom, only with a few extra additions. A bulb camera in the corner watched the area, while flat-screen televisions were arrayed on two of the four walls. The last two had either a single massive screen or a small emblem most Americans would recognize. Fluorescent overhead lights illuminated the dozen or so suit-wearing octogenarians sitting around the long table. Behind them, partially obscured by the high-backed leather chairs where their superiors sat were the numerous aides waiting for when they were needed. The table itself was long, and dotted with slim black packets of white paper, some of which had spilled across the mahogany surface. The animated discussion happening within vanished in an instant, and all eyes peered at Perfect Tempo. The former equestrian had eyes only for a single one of the aging, borderline geriatric eighty-year-olds present, however. “Mr. President,” Perfect Tempo began. “I must apologize for intruding on your security briefing. Though I think you’ll find that I will be able to assist in the matter you are currently discussing.” The wrinkled, elderly man sitting at the end of the table glanced nervously at an aide, who just shrugged in confusion. “Who are you, and what do you want?” Asked the president in a slow, quiet tone. Behind him, several men in suits moved about the room, rapidly removing everyone else present. In the distance, the crackle of radio and the shout of orders could be heard, though they vanished the moment the door closed. “You may call me Perfect Tempo,” Perfect Tempo replied. “And as to why I am here, the answer is simple.” Perfect Tempo splayed his fingers wide. “I am here to extend to you an offer,” Perfect Tempo concluded. “What manner of offer?” The president replied. A secret service member rushed to the aging man’s side, though he was brushed off. “I wish to give you the secrets of magic,” Perfect Tempo exclaimed. “Or at least all of those that myself and my organization have gathered over the eons.” “Then it is was you, and your organization that is responsible for the event near… what was it, Canterlot City?” The president replied. “No. We were not responsible for that. Rather we were attempting to contain the threat, though that is not the point of this conversation,” Perfect Tempo replied. “Right, your uh, offer was it?” The president inquired. “What does it all entail?” “Vast swathes of information of a magical nature, and in return we seek simple reassurances,” Perfect Tempo exclaimed. “You seek a pardon, or perhaps some form of amnesty for your organization?” The president retorted, leaning forward on the table. “Such things would certainly be possible.” “No,” Perfect Tempo answered. “Nothing of the sort. Rather we seek reassurances that your administration and your peers will make every possible effort to end every last imperialist action your nation is currently involved in.” “I’m not sure I understand,” murmured the elderly man. “Quam, Puerto Rico, the virgin islands, etcetera,” Perfect Tempo exclaimed. “Your imperialist colonies will be either fully incorporated so as to grant proper representation or they will be released from American control.” The older, white male blinked. “Furthermore,” Perfect Tempo continued without missing a beat. “You will close the black sites you operate across the globe, release the hostages you keep in Guantanamo, and you will also cease weapons sales both current and future to known human rights abusers.” “You ask far too much,” the president muttered. “Plus I don't even have the authority to do half of those things.” “The majority of those things can actually be done with a pen stroke, but the others I admit are more complicated,” Perfect Tempo acquitted. “Which is why you would swear a binding oath that you will work with your allies, and cabinet to see done in as timely a fashion as conceivable.” The president fell silent and still, staring down at the table. Around him, various individuals in suits waved instruments and held weapons low, but ready, or set up electronic equipment. “I acc-” “I would caution you before accepting my offer,” Perfect Tempo interrupted. “When I said this was a binding oath I meant it. You will not be able to escape the terms offered, nor will you be capable of breaking this agreement.” “What do you mean?” The president demanded, eyes narrowing. “The agreement is magical in nature,” Perfect Tempo answered. “You will be compelled to hold up your end of the bargain, just as I will be.” Perfect Tempo chuckled. “You didn't think I would hinge all this on a simple verbal agreement, would you? No, this would be quite binding,” Perfect Tempo exclaimed. “Surely that's not necessary,” the president retorted. “We could work out some of contract, or other mode of agreement.” “No,” Perfect Tempo replied. “Nothing less will be acceptable to us.” “This is preposterous,” blubbered the older man. “I can't simply snap my fingers and do everything you want me to, furthermore I can't know the full extent of this spell you speak of.” “Surely it's worth a leap of faith is it not?” Perfect Tempo shot back. “I’ve lived for centuries because of magic. You know from experience that spells are capable of bringing stone to life, amongst other things.” “Yes, well, I-” “This would be equivalent to a second industrial revolution, Mr. President,” Perfect Tempo interrupted. “You’re people would have power that was previously beyond their very comprehension. Surely that is worth a bit of trust, of sticking your metaphorical neck out. You are the president after all, is it, not your very responsibility to safeguard American prosperity?” “But to do all that, it would be… no,” the president retorted. “It's not feasible.” “Don't circle around on me,” Perfect Tempo shot back. “Your party has complete control over all branches of government, you have incredible popularity, and with an extraspatial threat rearing its head you’re approval rating will only climb.” “Be that as it may-” “You have the power, should you desire it, to see through all of my demands and then some,” Perfect Tempo stated. “We have studied you, Mr. President, we know of your connections, of the methods of control you may exert over your underlings. This is a perfectly reasonable demand to make.” “Listen here Mister Tempo,” growled the president. “I will not be bullied by some has been magician claiming to be some sort of centuries-old master of magic. Now you will give me what I want or else I’ll-” “We’re done here,” Perfect Tempo interrupted one final time, looking over to Estoc. The image from within the situation room disappeared, and the smokey screen was a simple silver once more. The moment the president was gone, Perfect Tempo exhaled slowly before running a hand through his hair. “That could have gone better,” murmured the assistant. “To be expected though,” Perfect Tempo muttered. “Let us continue.” “Whose next?” Estoc inquired. “Russia, and make sure to calibrate the translation matrix,” Perfect Tempo exclaimed. “Sir?” Estoc prodded. “I never did learn the language,” Perfect Tempo replied. “Two case linguistic systems are so strange.” “Ahh very good sir, one moment,” Estoc murmured. Perfect Tempo rolled his shoulders, set his jaw, and focused once more on the magical view screen floating before him. The silver didn't last long before it was replaced by the image of a groggy Eastern European man drinking a cup of what was likely, coffee. “Good morning Mr. President,” Perfect Tempo began. “Apologies for the earliness of my appearance but I have an offer for you-” Perfect Tempo exhaled slowly, leaning against the cool seats. Outside, the city streets had been replaced by a shadow-filled forest illuminated only by the fading moon overhead. Across from him sat Estoc, though her spell was no longer active, and the orb she used was safely back in its velvet bag. “That could have gone better,” Estoc muttered. “It is to be expected,” Perfect Tempo declared. “Humanity is not yet ready to give up on its more base urges, even when the promise of power is dangled before them like the most enticing of carrots.” “Still. I had thought at least one of them would accept,” Estoc admitted. Perfect Tempo waved a hand dismissively. “I never expected them to agree, but I still had to ask,” Perfect Tempo declared. “Choice must be given, even if the outcome was never really in doubt.” “What now sir?” Estoc inquired. “Now?” Perfect Tempo mused. “Now I take you up on that offer of coffee.”