//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 
// Story: The Conversion Bureau: Sing for the Wicked 
// by Microshazm 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 3: Bennett


Damn ponies. No-good flock of horses, now including her. Fiona could’ve cried, it was so wrong. Walking on hooves and eating hay was bad enough, but leaving her family, friends, job, and even Chase behind didn’t feel great either. The stallion could’ve and would’ve helped her. Now Fiona had to start a new life alone.
Chase’s face could be seen on every monitor. Fiona wondered how long he’d last. He  had put out a confident act and the broadcast company was having a field day with the new twist and a lot less so with Chase’s capture. “Innocent victim arrested and to be questioned for terrorism!” Fiona watched Chase’s pathetic expressions, as he tried to say something to the camera before getting driven off. He would be going underground. Maybe they would keep him safe. Maybe they would lock him up for good.

Mainly occupied by busy-looking people, The Union Terminal also had some ponies buzzing about. Fiona recognized most of them to be groups of newfoals, judging by their lack of so-called cutie marks and their perpetual staring at the big departures screen. In fact, she noticed very few others.
The newfoals didn’t have much on them: every adult was wearing some brown saddlebag and that was it. Fiona actually stood out with her white woollen cap and matching scarf, not to mention the unfit backpack she’d managed to strap onto her. It was a shame really, all those clothes she had to leave.
But clothes weren’t the only thing Fiona was missing. Those saddlebags contained something she desperately needed – clearance. In order to board any inter-city train, you either had an ID – a small chip implanted into one’s wrist – or a clearance card which were given to Equestrians, newfoal-ponies and so on. Fiona, however, had lost her ID chip during her ponification, and she needed a card on the spot. Stealing one wasn’t an option, she lacked the dexterity, but Chase had told her to find a man called Bennett. He was supposed to be the go-to for anything newfoal-related.
The old lady at the help desk had much to gossip about Bennett but finally gave Fiona decent enough instructions. Perhaps she was lonely, or planning some sort of a trick for the man.
Administration was located on the second floor, so she headed for the elevators. Just before the doors closed, a wonderful sight caught Fiona’s eyes. It was two small foals, two kids, sitting on the floor, playing a clapping game with their tiny hooves. It was something she hadn’t seen for a decade. A good omen, it had to be.

The name plate on the door made very clear that Fiona had found the right place. BENNETT. No first name, no title or anything, just Bennett written in black capitals each the size of her hoof. She knocked on the door firmly.
“Come in! It’s not locked.” Fiona glanced at the door knob and knocked again.
“Fine! I’m coming.” The door opened and Fiona looked up to see a middle-aged, spiky-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses. He wore a navy blue suit and a blood red tie. “You’d be surprised how many of them actually try to turn the knob," the man said while letting Fiona inside.
The office was small and neat: a couple of metal chairs, a tall cabinet in the back and a desk that had nothing on it besides an emerald green vintage table lamp and a brazen nametag. There were no windows, but a large landscape on the wall gave a sense of openness.
“I’m Bennett," the man began in a friendly tone.
“Fiona," she responded, adjusting herself in the chair.
“Fiona... A request for personal meeting from someone I don’t know means we have a mutual acquaintance. How about you tell me, who that is.” So, coming to see Bennett personally wasn’t too common after all.
“I’m a friend of Chase’s.”
“Chase. You mean the pony from South State Bureau? Yes, I know him. I managed the clearance cards for him and his company. We talked for a bit, I drowned him in questions. He was most aware of city life though, being a city pony himself...” Bennett’s eyes turned to the landscape for a moment as he reminisced.
“Okay, enough about Chase, he’s in it deep right now, if you’ve seen the news. Fiona, whether you’ve lost your clearance card or never even got one, don’t fret.” Bennett tapped the desk swiftly a couple of times bringing up a sleek touch interface. “All I need is your full name and the Conversion Bureau you went to.”

Bennett leaned back in his chair and turned to watch the landscape. Fiona followed his example and the room fell silent for a while. The painting depicted a dirt road surrounded by a dense conifer forest with lots of moss on the ground. The road led towards the horizon, where a clear azure sky and grassy hills could be seen. Fiona felt a shudder run through her.
“A newfoal with no Conversion Bureau attendance,” Bennett said, eyes still at the wall, “that makes you quite off the grid I’m afraid.” Fiona involuntarily drooped her ears. She didn’t know how much she could tell the man about herself, and apparently just her name, age and profession wasn’t enough. Despite his relaxed demeanour, Bennett seemed strict as hell. Damn Chase and his baseless recommendations.
“I...”
“I would honest like to help you.” The man turned to face Fiona again.
“But you can’t,” Fiona said silently.
“I could just not give a damn and give you clearance and send you away, but I understand Chase, or whoever, hadn’t yet gone to specifics about Equestria. First of all, it’s not that big a place, most newfoals get actually sent back after a brief period. Sure they give you clearance to go, but it’s more of a tourist trip, really. Secondly...” Bennett leaned back and crossed his arms. “I figure you’d be most disoriented. See, I know Chase speaks perfect English, but the rest of ‘em don’t. It’s quite a shock when you hear it the first time.”
As Bennett went on telling about more and more obscure details, Fiona’s thoughts wandered. How stupid to think that they’d speak English, let alone any human language, in a place where humans weren’t even allowed. That still wasn’t an excuse to force her to stay. She could just stick with the other newfoals, who, in fact, had only been through a couple of week’s training. Unfortunately, the blabbering Bennett seemed very determined to change her mind. Handing out illegal clearances must be pretty risky after all.
“I was there!” Fiona shouted so the man would stop, “I was the last convert of South State Bureau, converted in the very morning it blew up.”

All plans completely forgotten, Fiona spewed out everything she knew. Bennett seemed doubtful at first, but after Fiona began elaborating on Chase’s news story, his expression changed to curious. Soon, Bennett began asking follow-up questions about Chase and especially about the plan he was following.
This made Fiona a little nervous. What if he was going to turn her in and was just gathering information now that she’d opened up? Whatever it was, after a while Bennett started grinning, first a little, but the grin widened at every word Fiona said. When she finished, the man’s face was filled with strange glee.
“Quite the story. It’s been a rough year for you so far, it seems.” Bennett began slowly rubbing his hands together. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “I still won’t give you clearance though.”
“What! I have to get away! I just told you!” That smile, what was it for? Was Bennett going to sell her out for his fifteen minutes of fame?
“You told me enough. You told me that you are not at risk, that it was Chase, who’s taken the spotlight. So, why should I help you? We should be helping Chase.”
“But he volunteered! He’ll go through with it. It was his choice.” Bennett’s smile faded, replaced by a look of determination – nothing that made Fiona feel any better.
“Selfish girl," he said with a much darker tone, “Chase, the one, who saved your life, is biting off a hell lot more than he can chew, and you thank him by running away.” Fiona bit her lip nervously. The man’s serious gaze drilled deep into her. He knew the truth and made his own conclusions, what else would you expect?
Fiona and Bennett sure didn’t compete in the same league, not even close. She had absolutely no idea where this man was going to drag her and didn’t know if there was any chance to refuse.

Bennett stood up and walked to the office cabinet, now fiddling with its contents. If Fiona wanted to, she could escape and get away from this man’s schemes. But after that, where would she go? No clearance meant no train or bus and even if she had a car, she was sure driving it would pose problems.
She also thought about Chase and Bennett. The pony had made his motifs abundantly clear this morning. His species was about to drown in public dirt, so he would play his cards in a way to prevent it. Fiona would have never guessed that ponies were patriotic. Sure, they boasted kindness towards everyone, but she’d got the impression it was Earth they were here for and not themselves. Such strange things.
Bennett, on the other hand, made even less sense. He had started blabbering again, this time about Chase’s low odds of survival. The knowledge he possessed was overwhelming: explosives, weapons and other military technology, tactical manoeuvres and so on. This man was much more than it had first seemed.
But even that might not be enough. Ultimately, Bennett was as much a fed as were the people, who’d detained Chase. An immigration official busting out a suspected terrorist was something Fiona would’ve paid to see.
“Ah, here we go.” Bennett finished his monologue and turned to face Fiona a small black case in his hand. “I had hidden it unnecessarily well.” He noticed Fiona’s curious look and gave her a faint smile. Bennett opened the case, revealing an oddly coloured clearance card which he put on his desk.
“Y’know, I haven’t always had a boring desk job like this," he said while staring at the desk, working something on the screen, “and I’ve been waiting for a good enough excuse to again do something with this thing.” He picked up the card and held it in two hands, twiddling it around, inspecting every detail.
“Perfect. Fiona, the name’s Nicholas Bennett, former Commander of East Coast Border Intelligence serving the Pan American Corporation.” He leaned over the desk and let Fiona see the card. It looked the same as all of them, except for a yellow tint opposed to the normal transparency. “And it looks like I’ve been reinstituted, starting today.”

From a rigorous administrator to an overconfident maverick in mere moments, Fiona didn’t know which Bennett she liked better, since they both seemed to work against her goal. Now sitting uncomfortably in a tiny two-seater, she again had to endure the man’s jarring chatter. Apparently, Bennett had an ego to satisfy. He needed someone to agree with him, give him justification for his actions.
“You might think the Federal Bureau’s got Chase safe, but I’m sure he’s not. Fiona, by what you said, the killer, I think he’s ex-military.” Fiona let out an uneasy snicker, she’d made Chase claim the Bureau had been blown away using ‘high-class military technology’ and now Bennett was going to tell her she’d been right?
“Exactly. You said he wore a black suit, a one that you didn’t notice until he removed his shirt. I fear that’s a graphene nanosuit. Ten thousand layers, capable of taking a 9mm bullet without slowing you down or an armour-piercing .30 with only small bones breaking.” Fiona’s jaw dropped. He’d just turned a piece of cloth into some military-grade superarmour. That deduction was way too rushed.
“Wait, there’s more. The knife, you said you couldn’t touch it without cutting yourself. It’s a nanoblade, retractable like a lightsaber, but that’s where the similarities end. It’s light and sharp, but if you look close enough, you can see it’s not as smooth as you’d think. It’s not an elegant weapon, it’s made to cut flesh.” Bennett had to cut off his exposition in order to brake hard to stop for the red light. Despite all the recent upheavals, downtown Chicago still had its fair share of traffic.
Bennett continued: “Both the blade and the suit are only given to troops which are expected to engage in close quarter combat, or that’s how they had it in PAC. How’s that so bad? Fiona, I’ve seen most of those boys crack some time or another, at times because of guilt or because of pressure, but that’s not the worst part. A few of them never crack at all.”

For a while, the drive went on in silence. The sky was mostly clear, and the white scenery basked in warm sunlight. The water from the melting snow formed small puddles and streams on many streets.
The slow crawl through the city finally gave Fiona a moment to think. She was losing the little control she had over the tide of events. She’d demoted herself to an extra, when she’d handed everything to Bennett. Even if the man found something for her to do, it wouldn’t be much by default. Bennett would go and meet the feds on his own and Fiona could only wish that whatever she’d done helped him getting Chase out.
“I’m dropping you off at South State, Fiona. I have no use for you with the federals.” Bennett took a left and steered the vehicle into the newsvan-infested parking lot. Fiona gulped notably as she saw the empty hole that had replaced the Bureau. Bennett parked the car and prompted Fiona to step out.
“But what the hell you ditching me here for?”
“Get cameras. Whatever they have there already is not enough,” he said while closing the door, “but don’t follow me down there.” Bennett tried to give her a comforting look and sped away. Fiona let out a slight, unnerving giggle. She was left alone once again.


***


Chase sat on a metal stool that looked and felt more like a coffee table in a small, dimly lit room. The walls were dull grey as was the floor. In addition to him and his seat, the room featured a large wall-mirror, a table, and a chair, which was now empty. There were no windows except for a small one on the door, but it had blinds covering it from the outside.
The walls seemed soundproof, but Chase could hear parts of conversations through the door. He wondered if this has been done on purpose to give interrogatees some sense of comfort. Such a flaw was unlikely to be there by accident. It was a useful feature nonetheless, its effect having been more than just comforting. Judging by the bits Chase had heard, the feds were in trouble.
The thing the female fed had said, it had been a joke. She’d lied – media had them by their coats and they were upset, to say the least. The media aspect didn’t even seem to be the worst part. Firstly, the order to capture Chase had apparently come from high in the chain of command, higher than anypony’s position in this establishment, and results were badly wanted.
Secondly, since the Bureau was no more, there were minimal records of Chase. In fear of his belongings getting stolen, he’d left everything in the Bureau in New Year’s Eve, excluding the concert ticket and some dollars, both of which he’d eventually lost. So, aside from basic information, all they knew for certain was his arrival date in the country.
Thirdly, the feds seemed to have no idea what to do to an Equestrian and only grew more agitated, when their human interrogation methods proved fruitless. They uttered many questions and tried to lure him to open up by proposing random scenarios of the events they, and actually Chase as well, had never witnessed. He told them nothing they didn’t already know.

After an hour or so of interrogation, the feds’ frustration really began to show which lifted Chase’s already expectant mood. He overheard something about covering their own asses and not wanting to be the one to get fired, but a longer discussion about the Princesses was something to really make him think.
“I got the whereabouts of the Princesses. Celestia’s due to spend the next couple of days in Los Angeles and Sacramento, and the other one, Luna, is supposedly in Equestria.”
“Have we contacted Celestia? I think it’s the ponies’ job to deal with their own...”
“We haven’t and we won’t. Boss said not to, and that's indeed their job and not ours.”
“Aw man, that- that ain’t good... I mean, they got TVs in Sacramento, y’know, but do you think Celestia would actually come here? She’s like, a horse with its own royal entourage, and this place is kind of crammed already. I don’t...”
The voice became mumbled as the talkers distanced themselves from the door. Chase hadn’t really thought about the Princesses yet, but it was probably true that if the feds wouldn’t let him loose, Celestia would – eventually. Even with the Princesses involved, there were no guarantees how far the feds’ loyalty to their boss would stretch. The best Chase could hope was for the boss to have a change of heart, as ridiculous as it sounded.

More time ticked by, and Chase waited for something to happen, anything. No fed wanted to talk to him; he would’ve even welcomed interrogation again, but all he got to do was sitting. Someone had brought him water and a couple of tomatoes a while back and the temptation to start a conversation with them was increasing. “Can you tell me how long I have to be here?” Fortunately, the door opened before the tomato could answer.
“Zephyr Chase, we got a specialist here to see you.” The guard moved to let in another man. Chase could tell he wasn’t a fed by the dark blue suit and red tie which contradicted the usual dark grey fed color scheme. The spiky-haired man took a seat and focused his spectacled eyes at Chase. He seemed familiar.
“It’s funny, how easy they let a corporate man come here and do their job for them. Isn’t that right Chase?” The man spoke in a professional monotone voice. Soon he raised his eyebrows and his lips buckled to a minute grin. Chase knew this man! The day he arrived in Chicago. The administrator had instantly put his language skills to a test as he asked a mass of questions about Chase and his life in Equestria. There was no hope remembering the man’s name though, the conversation hadn’t been about him at all.
“I’m Bennett," he said and extended his hand over the table, “and I’ve come here to settle some things.” Bennett... Chase shook his hand and thought back to their first meeting, of course, the same Bennett he’d told Fiona to go to. Could he ask if she’d made it? How freely could they talk in here? Still, his appearance was a relief, more, it was rescue. Bennett must be the most qualified human in Chicago to deal with an Equestrian. The feds, even their boss, would certainly trust whatever the man would say. But what if the things in Bennett’s mind didn’t include his rescue?
“What can I say, Bennett?” Chase put up an indifferent tone, hoping that the man would see through it and take the hint.
“Well, I can’t promise one hundred per cent confidentiality, as all this is getting recorded and there’s at least one guy watching us, but, to be honest, I don’t think the federals have the guts to cross corporate government.” Governments and corporations, Chase’s knowledge of human politics was very limited. Bennett could have meant close to anything.
“So... we’re clear?” Chase tried the most ambiguous line he could think of.
“This is a terrorism case we’re in. It’s serious business, but with enough outside pressure, the federals will give in almost certainly.”
“Just like that?”
“The federal government is pretty much dead. When corporations like Pan American started making their own laws and regulations, there was nothing the ‘real’ government could do. Money had brought people together and rallied them against their former rulers. I bet all of these people would defect if given a proper chance – a job, that is.” So, that’s how it was. Lack of guidance, instability and greed were all added to Chase’s list of human weaknesses. Converting them all would be a blessing.

“What? A whole freakin’ crew!? Shit, shit, shiiiiiit...”
Bennett put up an exaggerated smile as the frustrated mumble went past the interrogation room. “We’ll be outta here in no time.” Chase let himself relax a bit. Doubts aside, he seemed to have been right about Bennett, and he was glad of it.
Some minor racket could still be heard from the hallway, but sudden sounds of heavy footsteps alerted the both of them. Chase glanced at Bennett, whose face was instantly devoid of any expression.
“...on it! I’m on it!”
“What is it?”
“Fire at the back entrance, or a lot of smoke, at least.”
The voices belonged to the brown female fed and the guard at the door with the former  rushing away. “It could be nothing," Chase said and wished for a positive response.
“Fireworks, perhap–” Bennett was interrupted by a tremor that shook the whole room a bit and made the light flicker. “We need to get moving, Chase.” Bennett bolted to the door and called the guard, who was busy shouting annoyed questions at what Chase assumed to be his walkie-talkie.
A new, male voice yelled out in the hallway and broke the guard off his query: “It was an explosion at front. We’re under attack!”
Chase almost panicked, but quickly realised that an attack from two sides meant something else than the single killer he was trying to evade. Bennett, however, showed clear signs of worry. He called the guard again, slamming his fist on the door, but still got no response.
The guard was addressing the other man: “Hey, who are you? Hey!”
Bennett tried to briefly peek through the window blinds and turned back at the table. “Come here. Get away from the mirror.” Chase obeyed. The moment he was across the small room, Bennett had grabbed the metal chair in his hands. The way he looked at the mirror made it increasingly difficult for Chase to keep calm.

The large mirror shattered all the way into a million glittering pieces. Unfortunately, the sight it revealed wasn’t even marginally better: an even smaller room with a vacant tripod and a desk with two monitors and chairs – all behind another frame of glass.
Before either of them had decided what to do next, the door to the monitor room swung open. A fed-clad figure walked in, dragging a body in its wake. Chase took a look at Bennett, who just stared at the scene, his mouth forming a silent profanity. Chase turned back only to instinctively stumble and take cover in the corner. The figure was pointing a gun at the window.
Chase covered his face in between his front legs. The blast was surprisingly quiet, but powerful enough to blow an enormous amount of glass into the room. He readied himself for numerous cuts, but, astonishingly, no shards struck him, only some that hit the back wall fell harmlessly on his back. Chase lifted his head and saw that Bennett had upset the grey table making a cover for both of them. Now they stood up to face a man with a large handgun pointing straight at them.

Maybe the mirror should have left unbroken.