//------------------------------//
// Part 2 
// Story: Sterling 
// by Roan 
//------------------------------//

	It was the next morning. The parasprites had receded. The two gunsponies were looking at an unlit wall in the basement of Sugarcube Corner. One had an expectant, though unseen, face, and the other pony’s expression was stoic, uncaring. Bluh-D caught a swinging chain and yanked it. Several bulbs flickered for a moment before hitting an equalized on/off frequency. As Star's eyes scanned the contents of the recently revealed shelves, his head went spinning. So many weapons, so many differences from the ones he’d seen at home . . .  He'd find the time to pour over the details later. He needed to know what Bluh-D knew about the other bearers, and convince her he was working for the princess. She wasn’t going to let him.
"What do you think?"
"It's certainly a veritable collection."
Realizing something was off between this display of firepower he was being presented with and the description of Equestria's history as dictated by Celestia, Star decided to focus on the guns for the time being.
"Where did they come from?"
"They were produced for the last big war Equestria had. All recorded history of it was wiped out. The griffons vied for dominance over the land 170 years ago. Ponies won."
There it was. He was told previously that Equestria was a place with limited knowledge of strife or even general trans-grievance. But that was a lie. Why would the princess mislead him like that?
There was more at play here than he knew. He had a feeling that Celestia genuinely wasn't trying to hurt anyone, but having played the villain himself on several occasions, he knew that didn't necessarily mean she had good intentions.
Star thought about what she had asked him to do. 
The Tyrant's Heart, an item "removed from the bosom of an unjust ruler," was used to alter the events incited by said ruler. It let it's holder (or 'habeaea') control these events and effectively change the past. Perhaps the princess had reached the level of cruelty and destruction required to change her heart, so she could use it to create the fair and peaceful Equestria he was assured he'd be saving? It would be a brilliant plan if it weren't for the fact that she'd die in the process of retrieving it, and thus someone else would have to use the heart to the effect she was hoping for.
Theories of regal deceit now fully formed, he continued to gawk at the pieces that lay before him.
"How did you get them?"
"An antique salespony received them one night, and on the next he nearly received a swift death. I intervened, and they fell into my hooves as his thanks."
"Who-"
"Royal guards. Verbal and physical history was almost completely erased too. They’re still looking for this stash as we speak."
Proof to back up his theory. They were covering things up to this day. He didn't know to what extent though aside from denying the physical existence of high speed ballistic weaponry.
Bluh-D picked up a piece that resembled a pump action shotgun. Where the stock and trigger would be on an human gun, a lead knob was apparent.
"This is designed for unicorns. It's supposed to be levitated and fired on the go, in close proximity to an enemy. Unicorns can't use them without knowing the exact shape of the hammer. Each one has it's own hammer design, making them 'locked' to specific unicorns on the battlefield. The lead ball prevents any peeping spells from seeing the firing mechanism."
A lot like ID locked weaponry, Star thought. Putting back the shotgun, Bluh-D grabbed hold of something that looked exactly like a light machine gun, aside from the grip . . . which was a laterally placed, hoof sized ring, with a flat trigger facing opposite it's human counterpart.
"Pegasi, being most effective as aerial combatants, have their hooves free most of the time. They use these small rifles to pepper encampments or clusters of enemy troops with lead while the earthbound ponies use the distraction to rush in."
All basic tactics, yes, but she was trying to convey to the colt the application of each weapon, not complex battle strategies.
Suddenly, a squeak was heard by the two ponies. It was followed by a crash, as the yellow pegasus Star had seen the night before tumbled down the stairs into the basement, in between the Silver and Bluh-D. She made another nervous squeak while the two ponies looked down at her.
"I Pinkie Pie swear I won’t tell anyone!" she muttered, just barely audible if not the the room's lack of ambient noises.
"Fluttershy . . . ?” Bluh-D said, with a concerned look.
She made another squeak, closed her eyes, and whimpered, letting her legs cringe and shake above her, expecting only the worst possible punishment for her intrusion.
"How long long have you been listening to us?" Star asked in the least scary voice he could muster.
"S-since ye-yesterday . . ."
"What did you hear?"
"You said . . . That you're . . ."
"That we're what?"
"You're . . . Ka-ka . . . Ki-"
"Spit it out already!" Bluh-D yelled, eliciting an angry (though still unseen) glare from Star.
Fluttershy took a deep breathe, and let it all out . . .
"You'rekillersandPinkiePieisn'twhoshesayssheidandI'msorryohsosorrypleasedon'tkillme!"
Bluh-D snickered.
Star gave her an even more angry, yet again unseen, look.
"I think you'd best explain what a 'killer' is to her quickly, before she dies of a heart attack.”
Another squeak. Star looked straight into Flutterrshy's eyes. They had a strange mellowing effect on him.
"We're not killers in that we murder ponies for fun or personal gain, we're called killers because we're the first beings of our respective races to commit the ‘ultimate sin.’"
She said that as if it were a perfectly clear explanation, rearing up and making circular motions with her hooves as she spoke the last part, trying to make it sound spooky instead of downright scary.
Which for Fluttershy, made it seem all the more creepy, what with the mare she used to know looming over her and a stallion she hadn’t even met yet backing her up. Or at least, not stopping her.
“You wanna know who I killed?”
Fluttershy just made a scared squared squeak in response.
“It was four thousand years ago,” Bluh-D started in a more playful voice than the one she had earlier, “my first life. I was the best party planner in all of Equestria, and the princesses were having me set up the Grand Galloping Gala! I had everything done, no detail was spared, but the best part was all the balloons they let me use!”
Bluh-D picked up the pegasus with a foreleg, locking them shoulder to shoulder with one hoof on Fluttershy’s side and the other waving in front of the two mares.
“Balloons! Balloons as far as the eye could see! I couldn’t even count them . . .  And then HE showed up . . .” Bluh-D said as if her statement added something other than another layer of confusion and fear to her yellow friend’s scared little thoughts.
“That stupid unicorn, with his stupid horn! He just kept jumping around, popping all of my balloons. It made me so angry! And the princesses showed up, and he started laughing, and they laughed with him!”
Fluttershy was beyond her previous “shaking” state, and was now oscillating so intensely that her back looked like it might actually be hurting the pink pony holding her up. 
“The next morning, I followed him back to his home . . .  And, and . . .”
She started crying. Fluttershy, now embraced in a tighter grip by the other mare, could be seen weeping as well.
“I regret everything. Sincerely.”
Both of them cried for a few moments. Fluttershy seemed to have calmed down. Or tensed up because the pony she believed to be a serial killer had her in a vice.
She squeaked again.
Bluh-D gave Fluttershy some space, moving from her side to the opposite end of the room. After a few minutes, she spoke up.
"So your real name's Blee-D Pie?"
"Bluh-D Sundae."
"Oh-okay. "
The room was silent again. The killers kept their eyes away from the frightened pegasus, fearing that even so much as a glance could scare her to death at this point.
“Fluttershy, I Pinkie Pie swear . . . oh, right.”
Silence again took the room.
"I know it sounds scary, but killers are usually pretty nice."
Wait, what? thought Star. Where could she have met another kill . . .  ohhhhh . . . 
"Just look at this stallion over here," Bluh-D waved a hoof in Star's direction, "he just showed up here last night and risked his life to save me and another pony! Would you expect somepony like that to MURDER anypony like you?"
"...No."
The two mares made eye contact. With a smile, Bluh-D winked at Fluttershy. At first she drew back from the sudden movement, but eventually she returned the gesture with a weak smile of her own.
Squeak.
"I-I have a confession to make."
What could possibly lie on the conscience of this shy pegasus, that could be ranked against a revelation as life-changing and strange as the one spoken of but moments ago?
"I could have stopped the parasprite swarm from ever even getting near Ponyville, or at least warned somepony, but after seeing Angel . . .  reduced to . . ."
Skeletal remains, whomever Angel had been. 
And she wept again. Star decided it would be best if he left Fluttershy in her friend's company (which was frankly a really bad idea considering the pegasus’ belief that she could be gutted by Bluh-D any second now), but as he took to the stairs, she spoke up in a demanding tone.
"Wait!"
Star turned around to see a teary eyed, but otherwise very stern looking pegasus staring him down.
"I want to get rid of them. The entire infestation. I heard their screams. E-every second is just another bit of agony for them. Their extermination would be an act of kindness to them as well as ponykind." Fluttershy said grimly, her determined tone sending a cold shiver down Star’s spine.. and those eyes... They had a glint of calculated ire he'd seen only once before. It was unmistakable. This was the Catalyst.
"If that’s what you want, I have a book that might help.”





Stratting.
Creating solutions out of various chemicals on the go, and putting them to use without hesitation. Star didn't know much about it himself, but he always carried a guide to the practice, written by a human that was arguably the best Stratter to have ever lived.
It wasn't about spending time testing theoretical combinations of elements, that's what lab trials were for. Stratters had to develop the know-how and the guts to follow through with any plan they came up with on a moments notice, no matter how crazy it might get. "Revisions later, success now!" was one of many mottoes mentioned in the guide.
A valid argument could be made that the only reason the writer of the guide was "the best stratter ever" was that every other stratter died before they reached his level of success.
Regardless of the dangers of the practice, Fluttershy was hurriedly studying the pages, occasionally stopping to ask Star what certain anatomical equivalents were. It was written for humans, by a human, after all.
"I need a suit to do this, don't I?"
"If you want to live, yes. Do you know anyone who could make one for you?"
"Rarity. She lives and works in the Carousel Boutique. The light blue and purple building with a carousel on top. Let me just . . ."
And at that, the yellow pegasus began drawing something based on a diagram in the book. The designs seemed odd, and they were, but they had some undeniably genius adaptations of the designs displayed in the book. 'Gloves' that fit over the wings, pockets along the sides that held buckets or vials of frit or other chemical products. It may have even been greater than what the book detailed. When she was done, she hooved the sketches to Star.
"Take these to her, she already has my measurements. It'll probably take her no more than a day to get it all done."
"Where will you get a gas-mask though? That's article #1, you know! I don't want to see somepony go through all this trouble just to die when they suck in just a little too much frit."
"Bluh-D had a few lying around." she said as she pulled one out and put it on.
"Alright . . ."





There it was. Most of it. The Carousel Boutique had clearly been eaten at by the parapsrites from the night before. Half of its roof was missing. He hoped whomever Rarity was, she had not fallen victim to the swarm. Not because it would have delayed Fluttershy's suit, and the parasprites inevitable destruction at the shy pegasus’ hooves, but because it would be yet another pony she'd feel responsible for the death of. After knocking on the door, a unicorn filly greeted him with a small curtsy.
"Hello sir, I'm Sweetie Belle. If you need some help, my sister's upstairs offering aid to the wounded."
"What kind of aid?"
"Stitches."
Stitches don't do a very good job of fixing up chunks of missing flesh. Certainly not en masse. He shuddered at the probable medical practices being performed just a story above him. Medieval methods, as he could only assume that was the dressmaking pony’s only knowledge of medicine,  were often worse than the wounds they were intended to treat.
"Does your sister do this for ponies under less dire circumstances?"
"Nah, but when Nurse Redheart said they didn't have enough room at the hospital, Rarity started taking in the ponies rejected by the doctors."
"Can I speak with her?"
"Sure, just a moment."
Sweetie Belle trotted away, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, a muffled scream sounded from the second floor. Forceful stomps sounded throughout the boutique. The door opened and the white coated and purple maned unicorn Star had seen in the library just over 12 hours ago took it’s place.
"If you don't approve of my methods, you should complain to the clinic down the street-Oh! You're Pinkie's coltfriend, right? Did she make it out alright?"
"She's fine. I know you're busy, but Fluttershy needs something-"
"Fluttershy? Why wouldn't she just come by and ask for it herself?"
"Well, Fluttershy is busy right now. These are some sketches of what she wants."
He passed Rarity the papers.
"Let's see . . ."
She hooved through them. Her face turned from a look of excitement to confusion. "What is this? Why would she ask for something so bland and uninspired. All that rubber . . .  And what are these things on the wings? Gloves go on hooves, not wings . . ."
"Please, I can't explain her reasoning. She'd be here to tell you herself, if she wasn't already preoccupied with something at Sugarcube Corner."
"Fine, I'll make this absolutely garish outfit. She better have a good explanation for this when it’s done. But tell me, what is THAT?"
She pointed at the mask adorning the sketched Fluttershy's head.
"It's a gas-mask."
"What could that girl be thinking . . ." Rarity muttered to herself. 
Not seeing much reason to peruse the wealth of information Rarity may hold on the other three ponies from the meeting, at least at the expense of Fluttershy’s suit and the ponies receiving ‘help’ upstairs, Star began trotting away.
"Remember, everything has to be airtight!" he called out to the distressed seamstress.





Having given Rarity Fluttershy's instructional sketches, Silver Star had nothing to do for bit. Fluttershy was studying intently in the basement of Sugarcube Corner, and Bluh-D had to work there so he couldn’t talk to her about anything that might, well, upset her customers . . .
Maybe he’d run into one of the ponies from the meeting if he just wandered the town for a bit? He could at least survey the damage done by the swarm while he was at it. Star set about, pacing around the town. Whistling melodies very few might recognize, but many would find comforting if they could. He may have been off key, but his rhythm could not be beat.
A mare with posters draped across her sides approached him. She had a vanilla pelt and a stereo-chrome mane. Indigo and pink.
"Have you seen this unicorn?" she said, craning her neck towards the poster. It had red typography signifying the missing state of a pony named Lyra. Its picture depicted a unicorn, the sight of whom made him stop dead in his tracks. Light green coat, stereo-chrome mane similar to the mare in front of him with a vibrant shade of green accompanied by a white accent. He saw this pony last night. It was during the run to the farm. She had been covered in parasprites from the shoulders down, crawling into the street with what little strength (and muscular tissue) she had left.
"I'm sorry miss, but I haven't seen her."
"Oh, I hope she's okay . . ."
For the first time in a while, he broke out of the walking, err, trotting beat as he moved quickly away from the poster touting mare. Whatever relation she may have had with the unicorn, it had ended last night, with Lyra's life. He felt sick. Sicker than he normally did over death. Which was sick enough to coat the inside of his visor in puke. He did a good job of restraining himself.
As he got back into his rhythmic pace, he tried to avoid looking at any of the ponies on the streets. He didn't want to see their faces. He refused to see anymore heartbreak, for now. Perhaps on a 'hero' it was fine. After all, their tragedies were designated. They were chosen to deal with the more dastardly things life could throw at them because they could handle them, perhaps they’d even grow stronger by surviving the series life shattering ordeals that would manifest in their time. Normal beings rarely had the strength to go into the darkness (or light).
His thoughts drifted to the human child he had taken under his wing for a time. Marie Geladrin [Gel = Hel]. The supreme synesthesiac, people called her. She was thrown into the ranks of Hell's Firing Squad and survived, but she would never be the same. It was her story, surviving the practices of the terrorist syndication time and time again, that inspired him to become a synesthetic soldier.
Despite his best attempts to avoid contact with the pedestreponies, a pegasus had taken to following him. It hovered just a meter above his right shoulder, probably waiting for him to notice its presence. It was the one he'd saved last night before finding Bluh-D. Having looked at her to identify the mare, Star was now compelled to converse with her out of politeness.
"Hello." he began.
"Thanks for saving me last night. I knew it was you, even without the hat."
He had completely forgot that he'd lent his fedora to Bluh-D. He'd have to pick it up from her later.
"I was a goner, there was no way I'd have out-flown those damned insects for much longer. And then you just reared up out of nowhere with that weird music," she posed in midair, enthusiatically pantomiming Star’s actions with her hooves, "and shot all the parasprites dead."
Before responding, he noted how she didn't have any qualms about the devices that had been attached to his keratin palms. He hadn’t seen any ‘hoofguns’ among the throng in the basement, so up to now he was curious as to whether or not they had existed in Equestria before he’d arrived.
"I was hoping to ask you about somethings."
"Anything for the stallion that saved my life, especially with such style . . ."
"What's your name?"
The pegasus brought her hoof to the bottom of her muzzle. She pondered over an answer for quite a while, considering the question and all it entailed thoroughly.
"I'm Ditzy Doo, but most ponies call me Derpy. It's a nasty poke at my condition. I’m kinda . . . wall-eyed.”
Star looked into her eyes, having not paid attention to them earlier. Sure enough, one of her eyes was obstinately refusing to look forward at him.
Having gotten onto the subject of sight, he took a brief moment to think about how even though his eyes were now situated on the side of his head, his visor effectively prevented him from experiencing 'prey' vision. Somethings never change.
"That's unfortunate."
"Yeah. It's a pretty good way to judge a pony's character though! You should try it, just ask a questionable pony if they know me. If they say something like "don't you mean Derpy," you can guess that they probably aren't very nice!"
He remembered using a similar trick to solve a puzzle a long time ago. This mare, as ditzy as she may be, was pretty clever.
"Hey, uh, why don't we go to Sugarcube Corner and get some muffins, on me!"
That was the place Bluh-D lived and worked. He could talk with this pony and get his hat back all in one go.
"Sure, that sounds great."





"Sorry Ditzy, all the ingredients for the muffin mix were given to BonBon for her "Proper Sustenance in Times of Despair" project." (she’s making a giant cake shaped like Lyra, spoilers) said Bluh-D, who’s hair was now mostly poofy with but a few straight locks here and there. She was wearing the fedora, and a roan colored outfit with orange trimmings. It covered her melancholy mark. Silver felt sorry, having been the one that uncovered the psychological (and now physical) scar.
"Ohhhhh . . ."
"Buuuttt! We do have some eclairs in the fridge. They'll be a little frozen on the inside, so if you'd give me some time to unfreeze 'em a bit, you can have a free Pinkie's dozen!"
Looking towards one of several chalkboards denoting the bakery's varied offerings and daily specials, a Pinkie's dozen was revealed to be "As many as you can eat, with Pinkie Pie in a nearby seat!"
So while Bluh-D patiently waited for the filling to warm up, Ditzy and Star sat down and talked.
"I never got your name."
"It's To-"
Hold it. Gotta use your pony name. What caused that slip up, man? You've gone as far as calling yourself by the false name in thought. By now you should be having an identity crisis of some sort . . .
Oh. Of course. It was an identity crisis. And Tom's mind was dealing with it like it did everything else: regression. There's something about this situation that prompted an emergency excursion to the sanctity of his last remaining sliver of human influence on his (outward) life.
"Uh, Silver Star."
"Are you okay?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
"Yes." he replied, lying unconvincingly.
He had to figure this out quickly. What could it be . . .
The bakery?
No. He'd been in here, talking as a pony, long enough to confirm that there were no problems with this place.
The events leading up to this point? Again, no. He'd been through far worse.
Ditzy Doo?
Maybe. There wasn't anything reminiscent about her features. He'd recorded and shelved that bit about "judging character with her name," and he'd completely forgotten what it reminded him of.
And then it hit him.
Or rather, he hit it as he fell from his seat onto the hardwood floor and yelped something very close to an expletive.
As Ditzy and Bluh-D stepped into his fading vision. He passed out.
It was sleep. He needed some.
So here he was, out cold, forced into a slumber by the fatigue he’d failed to notice earlier.
And then the real regression began.
Im sorry, did he just have an existential crisis or something above? Feels strongly disjointed and sudden.
Yeah.




        A familiar scene began to resolve itself from the haze of his vision...
A Somnium Concerto - Celestial musings representative of real events. Musical analogs meant to synchronise the events of two disparate parties, no matter how far apart in thought, mind, and body they may be. 
He’d seen several. Been in a couple to, for that matter. He didn’t like this one any more than he had the last.
Arrayed before him, through a curtain-like veil, was an orchestral throng of ponies. The “dream”, or so he termed it, had drawn them in ethereal shades of blue, but by focusing intently on individual beings he could see their true colors, in addition to perceiving their names and the true bent of their spirit. There were a total of sixteen assorted beings in all. Each one playing their own instrument or singing.
Like all narcissistic creatures, he turned his attention to himself first. His ephemeral counterpart was playing a large bass. As a detached element to the scene, it was no surprise to Tom that he was behind all the other members of the orchestra, close to a pony playing a cello.
Looking out to the front row, six ponies at front and center stage. Their forms were more solid, their colors more vivid than that the others. These appeared to be the elements of harmony, the heroes. The living heroes. He was unable to clearly focus on the ones he hadn't spoken with for more than a moment... he either wasn't near enough to them outside this dream or they weren't 'open' enough to him. Either way, they were inaccessible. 
Turning to those he could access, he confirmed his beliefs about the jobs, and elements, of the few he had intimate knowledge of. Pinkie Pie was the element of Laughter, the Killer, playing several instruments in her one-pony-band harness. She was chaotically switching from an emanation, then back to a penumbra rapidly. The effect was disorienting. Fluttershy was Kindness, the Catalyst, a singer and beautiful penumbra. Surprisingly, Rarity was opened to him after only the short conversation they had had that morning. She held the element of Generosity, and she was the Mender, raising her seductive voice along with Fluttershy; a penumbra. He was starting to doubt his own suspicions that she may be mistreating the patients that the hospital refused to admit.
Rainbow Dash was enthusiastically playing an electric guitar, while Twilight was playing a synth. Applejack was abusing a viola, to put it lightly. That thing is NOT a fiddle!
Onto ‘the dead.’ The back row. The thankless beings that give up everything to save their own kind, regardless of their inclination to do so. Their role in all of this was yet to be made clear, but they were present all the same.
He started with the one playing the cello.
A  grey coated mare, long black mane, a treble clef for her mark. A Penumbra. Octavia.
Going from the middle of the throng to one of the the ends, he began focusing again.
Not surprisingly, the unicorn he saw last night was there. Wearing a mournful expression, was Lyra. An emanation, she was soulfully plucking a lyre with heart-wrenching skill.
Next up was a male unicorn Pokey Pierce, his coat a dark, gray-brown. Silver mane. An oddity, neither an emanation or a penumbra, he fluctuated between the two. He was DJing along side a unicorn mare. There was more there though, another name. Further focus revealed his name was . . .  Able? A coincidence, surely. His mark initially appeared to be a pin forced into a balloon, resolved into with a pike. Also a coincidence. Clearly. Moving on.
The mare beside Pierce was DJ PON-3... a stage name... he pushed past it and found her real moniker. Vinyl Scratch. Her spirit was not on the light side of the spectrum. Not an odd occurrence among the band of the dead. Stereo-chrome blue hair. White pelt. Purple sunglasses hiding a pair of deep red eyes.
… Ah, now here was an odd one...
A pony that looked very much like an inverted Fluttershy, playing a ukulele and singing in a much deeper voice than the real Fluttershy could manage.
It was not uncommon for catalysts to become hosts to sentient parasites, called Luci, before they found their calling. In almost all circumstances, the parasite would die due to one or more physical complications in the host before they became ‘heroes.’ Occasionally those parasites would be among ‘the dead.’ In most of those cases, the organism’s body would be left brain-dead. The remains would stay, performing autonomous actions and augmenting the host's body. The death counts as that of the host, preventing the passage of that soul in the event of bodily death.
His team’s Catalyst had ‘died’, and his Luci revived him. At present, it gave him a super natural healing prowess, at the cost of a metabolism that could kill him if he didn’t watch his diet.
Apparently, at least some of that applied to this team’s Catalyst.
It was a penumbra.
Next in line was Soarin'. A lean pegasus colt with a light blue coat. Dark blue mane. Singing. An emanation.
And now Roseluck. Another mare he swore he had seen die. Cream coat and rose colored mane. Playing a glockenspiel. An emanation.
The next was veiled in darkness. No amount of focus would yield its name, nor true bent of character. Its form was that of a pegasus playing a trombone. Perhaps he couldn’t see them because they hadn't died yet?

Then the dam broke . . .

. . .

PRINCESS LUNA?
That was certainly the name presented by this small nightly apparition. Filly. Alicorn. Light blue mane. Indigo coat. Emanation. So that wasn't a joke then. Noncombatant. She appeared to be the conductor, but as one of the dead she was not allowed to take center stage and direct the band just yet. She simply tapped her stick against a musical stand with a bored expression.
As he finished observing and mentally cataloging the information he'd collected, he felt the strangest sensation of something trickling down his throat.





It was the feeling of an unhealthy of amount of water; Bluh-D's attempt to wake him up. She managed to pop open the very end of his visor and had filled his helmet cavity full of water. Shooting up from the ground in response to the sudden feeling of the water against his vocal chords, he found that he could not breathe without opening his faceplate entirely and letting out all the water. Turning away from the the two ponies he knew were in the room with him, placed a hoof against a point on his head, and another near his hip. The tinted panel fell from his face, along with all of the water.
After he'd successfully evacuated all the liquid from his lungs, he picked up the visor and reattached it. He breathed heavily for moment, and then brought his head to eye level with the mares behind him. Before he could question and reprimand them, his eyes met with Fluttershy's. Having not realized that the pegasus was there before taking off the plexiglass that protected his visage from stray gunfire and looks, he felt as if he'd just stared into the gates of hell and survived. Especially so, considering which of the room's occupants had seen IT.
Years ago, he was captured while attempting to distill the actions of a coup. They'd outsmarted him. When subdued, a boy named Jack removed his visor with feverish pleasure, and branded a swastika into his forehead. The last time he showed his face, it turned a friend into a dissenter. Banishment from a town of misfits on another occasion. But when shown to the most easily spooked being he'd met in Equestria, it elicited little more than a reflection of the physical agony warranted by it’s application. Not even a hint of worry over it's real meaning was shown.
"That's a weird scar." she said, before returning to studying one of the three books she had open in front of her. One was the the guide he'd given her, now marked up and covered in sticky notes (Hey! That was my last signed copy!), while the other two appeared to be books on the elements and physics of Equestria. He suspected that would be the case. The idea that two universes  would have exactly the same physics and elements as another was more ridiculous than his arrival.
"What was that about a scar-Oh! You're finally awake."
Rarity moved her head out from behind the yellow pegasus. She was giving Fluttershy a back massage with her embalmed hooves.
"Did you finish her suit?"
"Of course! It took me a fortnight, but I would never let down a friend in need, even if it is such a GRUESOME need . . ."
"Like sewing alcohol covered gauze into the wounds of ponies you know are going to die? That's pretty gruesome if you ask me." interjected Bluh-D, laughter in her voice at the contradiction.
"Hmmph! I'll have you know I saved at least four ponies today! Some were even brought to such a condition that the hospital took them back instead of shoving them onto my doorstep."
"Because they totally didn't just free up forty rooms with that medical transport to Fillydelphia, right? And your doorstep? So you just admitted that your house is a morgue. Now we have a proper place to host that party for all the dead-"
"Bluh-D!"
A new voice joined the conversation. It was Twilight Sparkle, the purple unicorn. After trotting down the steps into the basement, she punched, or more accurately slapped with her hoof, Bluh-D on the face. Bluh-D seemed to willingly accept the blow.
"Rarity, I ask that you refrain from speaking with Bluh-D until tomorrow afternoon. Unless it's an emergency."
"But she-l, errr, yes. Alright, I guess there’s no need to stoop to her level . . ."
"So you're the leader, then?" Star asked.
Twilight gave him a very, very serious glare. He felt as if a large predator was watching him for the slightest movement, the barest possible chance to strike and bite into his neck. His leader had never resorted to such tactics of intimidation, but he knew how to combat them all the same.
Ignore them.
"So how long have I been out? What have Bluh-D and Fluttershy told you?"
A pleasant look returned to her face, and then she answered him in a much less hostile tone.
“Thirty-eight hours. I asked Bluh-D to keep you asleep until you stopped talking, and had Ditzy write down everything you said. I know about 'Pinkie's lies.' she told me about how you're both ‘shooters.’"
From the corner of his eye, or visor rather, he saw a bruised and frizzy haired Bluh-D winking at him. Replacing “Killers” with “Shooters” was going make convincing the others to listen to him much easier. Now, what was this stuff about him talking?
"Was I saying things in my sleep?" he asked.
"Yes,” Twilight replied, “the names of many recently deceased ponies. We could only confirm that you had knowledge of two before you passed out. And no, we don't know if Luna's alive. There was an explosion in the princess’ castle last night though, and no word has been heard of her since. You told Bluh-D that Celestia sent you. Why?"
He had yet to tell any of them the whole story about how, and why, he was here. Of course, he suspected that the reason supplied by the princess was a lie. At the very least, a half-truth.
“Well . . .”
"Ditzy, write this down."





He told them what the princess told him about Equestria. How it was a peaceful land. Crime was low, and grievances rarely amounted to more than a boastful pony appearing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bluh-D rolled her eyes when he spoke of about how war was a thing unheard of.
“We get it. She gave you a brief history lesson, but what did she bring you here for?” she interrupted, getting a mean look from Twilight in the process.
“Well, she asked me to train the bearers of the elements of harmony. She said that something similar to Nightmare Moon had taken her, and presumably only the elements could dispel it.”
“That sort-of explains the letters, and the books she asked for.” Twilight said. She sighed before continuing.
“What’s this whole training thing about?”
“You, and your five friends, are-”
“Ouch!” yelped Fluttershy as she took to the air, bowling Rarity right over.
“What’s wrong, Fluttershy?”
As she floated back to the ground, her expression changed from one of painful surprise to something more . . .  morose?
“It’s just a paper-cut. I’ll get a band-aid, don’t worry. Just . . .  carry on.”
“Oh no, please dear, allow me!” Rarity said as she pulled at the pegasus’ hoof.
“Wha-what’s this?”
Having turned over Fluttershy’s hoof to show the cut to everyone else in the room, an orange liquid was seen oozing from the wound. It was very slow, and seemed to stop moving altogether after a few seconds.
Fluttershy gave a dejected shy.
“Ohhhhhhh . . . That’s going to take a while to scrape off . . .”
Star had been holding his breath since he’d seen the off colored blood, in stark contrast to the gaping of the other ponies in the room. He began breathing again after hearing the sad, but clearly not heavily concerned, remark from the injured pony.
He’d seen this before.
Another parallel. Or perhaps this was the first difference between the two. Both catalysts had altered blood, due to the parasites. But his catalyst’s blood was green, and became a vapor when it met the open air. He was shunned for a time, labelled a miasmite, because of the toxicity of this vapor. This catalyst’s blood was the exact opposite. It hardened. How this pony could function with a condition like that, he could only guess, but that didn’t matter.
Fluttershy had to have known about it for a while. Not necessarily the cause, but he could test that. It would make things a lot harder for him in the long term, but he was sure he’d not get a chance to do this in the future . . .
“How did you die?”
“. . .”
“It’s okay, I promise your secret won’t leave this room. Nopony will think lesser of you when it’s over. I just need to know.”
“It was the day I got my cutie mark,” she said while dropping her head below her shoulders, “I fell off a cloud into a mass of butterflies. I told everypony that they had caught me. That was a lie. I hit the ground hard, all my limbs splaying out underneath me. A stick had embedded itself in my skull. As I passed out, I saw a glow that seemed to be coming from the hole in my head. When I woke up, I was fine. Shaken, unbelieving, but fine. As I got up, I struggled as all the hardened veins of blood along my coat cracked and fell away. Two patches persisted, on my flanks. Inside of them were several butterflies, trapped. As if in amber. I thought the whole thing was a hallucination for a long time...”
Everyone except Star remained frozen. Fluttershy got up and trotted to one side of the room where she picked up her suit that Rarity made for her. Without another word, she put it on, and left the basement.

At the front door of the bakery was Rainbow Dash, who had just arrived. She had missed Fluttershy’s grim tale.
“Hey, Fluttershy! There are a ton of squirrels hiding under Applejack’s porch. She asked me to get you over there so we can get them out safely and-”
“Not now Rainbow. I have something I’ve got to do.” She pressed past her stunned Pegasus friend, and trotting away. 
Silver Star was the first pony to move. He ran up the stairs and out of the basement, catching up with Fluttershy just as she left the building.
“What are you doing now?” he whispered to her.
“You’ll see.”


Frit: Chemically active products in small (dust-like) quantities.
Article #2 is, quote, “A lot of rubber.”