//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: The Conversion Bureau: Sing for the Wicked 
// by Microshazm 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 5: Memorial



Fiona woke up in her bed in the apartment to which she'd believed never to return. She turned onto her belly, folding her front legs neatly under it. On a normal morning, this position would've been most unnatural, but that was last year. This year, and every year from now on, she'd have to manage with an extra pair of knees.
        ”My place, or yours?” That had been the ultimate question for yesterday.
        ”Twilight's glued onto History Channel by now,” had been the answer. One would think that after leaving The Union Terminal and Bennett, Fiona and Rainbow Dash would've spent their time on something more useful than the first playoff game, but no. Fiona had offered to show Rainbow around the city, but the pegasus mare had refused. Something about ‘not being ready enough, if that Bennett-guy called’.
Later that evening, it had become apparent that Rainbow totally knew the rules of football. She’d watched quite a lot of it, knowing some players by their jersey numbers and the like. She was definitely more of a prankster than an aggravating bastard.

Fiona checked her phone for news. A mechanism that could usually be triggered with a single sweep of a thumb now required both her front hooves and her mouth to operate. And it wasn’t for more than a brief frown.
        “Fiona! Cool, you’re awake. Any news from that Bennett-guy?” Rainbow Dash stood by the door. At first, her eyes were onto Fiona, but they leered off to the heap that filled the rest of the bedroom.
        “That’s a lot of clothes. Does every human have that much?” Rainbow sounded impressed, which made Fiona blush a bit and wonder if that blushing could be made out from her red coat.
        “I don’t think so. I just... like clothes.”
        “If you ever trot by Ponyville, be sure to check out Carousel Boutique. My friend Rarity makes the absolute best clothes there, and some of them might even fit you now.”
“Carousel Boutique. Sounds chic.” Fiona smirked at the idea of Francophone Equestrians. Ponies wearing berets and carrying around baguettes and cheese. How in the hell was something like that even possible was another thing. She rolled off the bed, grabbed the cell phone, and headed for the bathroom.
Fiona stared at her reflection for a moment and then turned to the hairbrush on the counter. No, she thought to herself, Chase was okay, but she wasn’t going to let that rainbow-head do anything to her hair. This other way was just slightly harder, nothing too much.

Fiona finally exited the bathroom twenty-five minutes later, a wide grin decorating her face. Rainbow instantly reminded her of the time she’d spent in there, but Fiona got only a tad more irritated much to the unknowing pegasus’ benefit. For the first time in a long while, she felt confidence in herself. A sensation she’d missed all year.
        For breakfast, the duo had to find another place. Fiona’s fridge wasn’t empty in theory, but minced meat, butter, and a half jar of olives were quick to prove it insufficient in practice. The few houseplants had enough biocides that even smelling them made Rainbow’s eyes derp and change color for a second of two. The closest coffee shop was just half a block away.
        The good thing about the few excessively pro-human neighbours was that they didn’t usually get up before lunchtime. Sure, they got some odd looks for being the only pony customers, but as long as there was service, Fiona and Rainbow didn’t mind. In fact, Fiona was glad to get to eat with the pegasus: the two stacks of blueberry pancakes gave an excellent opportunity to try and get some information out of her. She began, when they both had eaten half of their meals.
“So, what made you ditch that Twilight-pony and help me instead?” Rainbow stopped eating. She clearly noticed the switch from average small talk to more serious matters.
“The short version you already know: somepony needs help, and I got nothing else to do. It’s two plates on one hoof. I’m all about big adventure and tons of fun, y’know.” Fiona sneered but vaguely enough not to get Rainbow’s attention. Guess they didn’t kill birds in Equestria. “And I didn’t ‘ditch’ Twilight – she can keep up shop just fine. I was just in the way anyhow.”
        “What do you mean ‘keep up shop’?” Fiona asked, her tone and expression still casual. But for how long she could keep that way was another thing. As Rainbow took longer and longer to answer, impatience was again getting hold of her.
        “Well... Y’know, keep ‘em standing on their toes, let ‘em–”
        “Keep who? The feds? The media?”
        “Uuh... Anyone, who asks, I guess.” The pegasus’ gaze wandered, keeping away from Fiona’s, and an awkward grin crept to her face.
        “So, you’ve been there just to look busy? Just smiling for the cameras? Rainbow, if you know more about this, you gotta let me in. I’m directly involved in this.” Rainbow kept looking around nervously. Fiona guessed she would have flown away if it wasn’t for the walls and ceiling.

Rainbow sighed for the third time, still not talking. Every time Fiona was about to say something, the fear of losing her temper squeezed her mouth shut, causing her to tremble a bit. She hoped the pegasus was just slow and not actually weighing any pros and cons. Did ponies have treason? If telling Fiona meant a lifetime in prison, she’d better know not to do it.
The fourth sigh was finally followed by words: “When you said there was nothing to investigate, you were sort of right. The three of us took a flight overnight from New York to Chicago and arrived at the scene yesterday morning. That mobile home was already there, and–”
“The three of us?” Fiona interrupted. There had been at least four ponies in that trailer.
“Me, Twilight, and Spike, her assistant from Ponyville. I think he has a crush on that Rarity I told you about. But as I was saying...”
Rainbow went on with her recap. Spike was apparently some sort of encryption expert as he’d been specifically needed for exchanging reports with Princess Celestia. But that need had been brief.
The Wisenote twins had already been there upon the trio’s arrival, and they had had everything figured out and a report ready for sending. Rainbow had never seen the paper, but their investigation had supposedly only taken an hour to complete. A brief exchange of messages, and the group had been given a simple task: look busy. Spike had left immediately afterwards for... no other than Las Vegas. “...The little guy has several shows scheduled there, both to watch and perform in. He said a dragon like him could get real lucky there, whatever that meant.”
Dragons, shows, Vegas... just the kind of irrelevant details that almost derailed Fiona’s mind. Anyway, Rainbow’s story managed to form a kind of summary in her head, though she was unsure if it was the one she’d wanted. Ponies weren’t perfect: they lied, and they manipulated. If Chase heard this, what would he say? Fiona smiled, as she pictured the grey stallion shrinking before her.

The smile slowly waned to a hint, and Fiona began, her voice stoic and toneless: “Huh, funny. I thought that information would change something, but no. It doesn’t matter how that man did it – the situation stays the same. Though, it still is a small relief.” Rainbow gave Fiona a brief, confused stare, and then turned back to her plate. Fiona rolled her eyes. She wasn’t about to stop talking, whether or not the pony was going to listen to her.
“I didn’t want to get ponified in the first place, ‘cause I thought I didn’t deserve it. I’ve seen the adverts and the commercials; all of it was way too good for me. I’ve never cared about other people, and going pony with that mindset just didn’t seem right.” Fiona ceased speaking for a moment to take a bite off her breakfast. Trying to eat using only her mouth like Rainbow had resulted in a syrupy chin and a burst of laughter from the pegasus. So, Fiona used a fork – with no fingers, it was one hell of a job.
“But now that I know you ponies are at least somewhat as flawed as humans,” said Fiona, “maybe I can fit in somehow.” Rainbow’s plate was already empty, and she indeed had paid some attention to Fiona’s confessions.
“I’d say that’s part of the reason people come to get ponified. It’s hard to change, when life gets in the way. In the Conversion Bureau, it shouldn’t.”
Fiona gaped at the pensive pegasus. “What was your job again?” Rainbow shrugged but didn’t get to answer as Fiona’s phone started playing its jingle. It was Bennett.

“Hey, girls! How are you? Had enough sleep? Good.” Bennett’s coarse voice sounded even deeper than before. The feds must’ve been all over him for most of last night. “I haven’t slept too much, been plain shit scared. Those assholes dug out a shitload of info from my office, said that it would keep me away from jail.”
        Fiona couldn’t fit the sombre tone with the news. “Well, isn’t that–”
        “FUCK THAT!” Fiona and Rainbow jumped with the rest of the café. The patrons’ disapproving intents drove the two ponies into leaving. “I’m okay for now, under house arrest, but the second I’m outside I’ll have a million corporate goons up my ass! Yes, I know you can hear me; I’m a corporate spy! I was, now... I’M A DEAD MAN!” Bennett then coughed and mumbled something Fiona couldn’t make out, ending in a sigh and a quiet “oh shit”.
        “I think I gotta defect to Russia... OK, enough about that. You two, get over here. I think I’ve got a way. I’m confined to my quarters one floor above the office. They won’t let you in without a clearance card though, so don’t forget your phone, Fiona.”
        Dammit, Fiona thought to herself while tucking the cell phone back into the fold in her cap, they’d have to go by the mobile home to get Rainbow’s... “What?” Fiona said, staring at the pegasus eyes wide and mouth agape. A shiny, transparent clearance card was neatly dangling off the side of Rainbow’s muzzle.
        “Never leave home without it. Exact words of that Bennett-guy.”


***


Meadow had been overly cautious sealing the keys inside his fist. He could’ve even left the door open, and Chase wouldn’t still have moved any further than a few inches. The blade had pierced his right hind leg slightly above the knee, and its tip had cut a gash on the inside of his left thigh. He could tolerate the pain if he stayed still, but regardless of that, the open wound bled badly. Chase had to hope that the man would wake up from his drug-infused slumber, preferably soon.
        As natural as Jared was supposed to be, Chase couldn’t see it in Meadow. His eyes opened halfway for a moment every few minutes, most of his wrinkled face was in perpetual judder, and his chest was still not moving with respiration. Chase couldn’t tell how long he had to watch that scene, since there weren’t any clocks around.
        Meadow woke up eventually. He got up and took a long while to recollect, stretching and cracking his joints in the meantime. Soon, his eyes were locked at the injured Chase, his gaze narrowing.
He said, the calm tone dripping with wrath: “You know how much I’d like to twist that blade?” He squatted and grasped the handle of the weapon. “Running around under Jared doesn’t feel too good either.” Meadow’s grip shook meagerly, still enough to make Chase wince, but the pony was determined not to scream or beg. The madman could do whatever he wanted with him.
“But I won’t,” Meadow expressed and stormed to the apartment. He hurried back with a case labeled with a red cross. The door’s lock was now torn off, making the trip even shorter.
“Twisting it would kill you,” the man said, “I’ll rather just take it off... but slowly.”
Chase couldn’t clearly remember what happened during the following minute. But one thing was certain: he hadn’t been able to keep his promise of no screaming.

Meadow and Chase sat vis-à-vis over the table in the apartment’s small, burnt-smelling kitchen. Meadow had stitched Chase’s legs and the two were now enjoying an ample breakfast of French toast with jam. Whether making it was part of the man’s routine or not, it was still something Chase had no reason to complain about and sure as hay meant that Meadow had no intention of killing him anytime soon.
After putting away the dishes, Meadow jumped on the table and yanked open a small vent near the ceiling. He then returned by the sink and looked at Chase.
“The extractor fan broke the first time I tried to use it. I’d move, but the other apartments are so full of tacky corporate stuff that I don’t want to.”
“Huh?” This guy was more complex than Canterlot’s fire escape plan. Sadistic murder, French toast, now even small talk – he probably knitted and collected stamps as well.
Meadow read Chase’s expression and furrowed. “What? Surprised to see more of Brisk Meadow than violence and anger? Those things alone won’t get you very far in life. Trust me. I’m not as young as I look.” The man took a deep sigh before continuing: “Chase, I’m impressed by your perseverance and lack of self-preservation, but you should stop hurting yourself. I’m beginning to think you’re not doing this for your noble cause, but rather protecting someone else.” Chase’s mouth was suddenly dry, and he gulped notably. Meadow’s unchanging tone had caught him off guard.
“That’s it. Family, friends. For who does a pony sacrifice his well-being and possibly even life? You afraid that I could hurt them? That you, by doing what I ask, could hurt them?”
Meadow continued his suggestive monologue for some time, but Chase was focusing elsewhere. He had been staring through the half-open window blinds in front of him, when he caught a glimpse of something floating past. It was no bird or pegasus. A few seconds later the object returned, peeking between the obstructions.
Chase almost fainted, when he recognized what it was: Skippy the camera drone.

Chase turned his muzzle at Meadow; the man hadn’t noticed the drone outside, but was now studying Chase’s expression. An idea suddenly popped up in his mind. If Chase was ever to escape, this would be his chance.
        “If I help you, you promise not to hurt innocents?” It was a stretch, but it should work. This is what Meadow wanted.
        “Cross my heart.”
        “Then I’ll do it.” Though it was for nothing more than a ruse, the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “But I need to know what’s going on. I gotta know why I’m here.”
        “All in due time, pony.” No, this wasn’t it. Chase had to rephrase, for the man’s attention could turn to the open air vent anytime.
        “No, I mean before that. I can’t understand you, if I don’t know why you’re doing... whatever it is you do.” Meadow was leaning on the counter, relaxing a little.
        “By what you’ve been telling in the news, you already know what I’m doing. A terrorist causing terror.” Chase drooped his ears and tried to look regretful. It seemed to work, for Meadow leaped towards the table and took his seat. “You made up the stuff you didn’t know. That’s just reasonable. But that’s not the thing you should be sorry for.”
Chase hoped that Skippy had taken its position by the air vent, because Brisk Meadow had a story to tell the world.

“Have you been to Maine? And I mean the state of Maine. You’d like it, no humans around. Where do you think those 1,5 million converted Chicagoans have gone to? For what I can tell, Equestria’s small, but something drives people further away from its borders. Not that barrier, something...” Instead of saying the word, Meadow just shrugged and whirled his hands around.
        “Do you know why this Bureau-scheme is working so well?” Chase arguably had some ideas, but he thought the man wasn’t expecting an answer. “The timing: you arrived into a world run by corporations. Even the people, who don’t work for them are enslaved. Even the damn hippies are terrified of PAC’s next move. They own their customers, they look after them and make everything seem like it works. But on the inside, it’s all rotten to the core.”
        “Those idiots wouldn’t spot magic even if it turned them into toads – I’m living proof of that. At first, I was confused why you contacted the federal government instead of the much more capable PAC, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. The benevolent government was all too happy to co-operate, while PAC tasked Border Intelligence to, quote, be aware of the situation and possibly seize opportunities to profit.” Chase couldn’t help smiling. He’d heard of that sort of bit-grubbing greed before – in cautionary bedtime stories.
        “That was my job for five years.” Meadow said and his eyes turned to look over Chase’s shoulder. He stared at the hallway for a second or two, lost in memories. Chase waited. He needed more, the world wanted more.
        “We made a nice team. I, the military engineer, and Minnie, the nanotechnician. You ponies may think there’s no magic on Earth, but there has always been. Everything we can’t explain is magic. Though most of it is gone, there are still things we can’t identify. One of those things is called warp.” Chase was pensive. Warp was something he’d never heard of, so his curious expression wasn’t even fake.
        “Nanites are very potent, but they can sustain very few functions without external energy. Warp is some sort of a quantum-mechanical trigger that allows an object seemingly to break the laws of physics. It’s rare, but a warping nanite will always complete even the most consuming a task. To make any use of it, you need billions of nanites and very specific tasks. A single procedure such as ponification, with the normal rate of warp, would require more nanites than this country produces in a year. So, what makes it work?” The answer was obvious. “Magic.”

Meadow kept on going, though the story began to delve into technical details obscure to Chase, as well as into the nanotechnician, Minnie. He said their relationship had begun as a means to an end: Meadow needed expertise, and Minnie just happened to be the most social scientist-type he had found. But they had grown very fond of each other over time.
For once Chase didn’t doubt the man’s words. By experience, he probably should, but the longing in his steel blue eyes told otherwise. Chase remained adamant with his judgement, however. Though it had been a mistake to think of Meadow as pure evil, Chase’s throbbing injury begged to differ.
The technical details weren’t completely useless either. Chase managed to pick up some useful pieces of information about the relation between magic and warp. Equestrian magic could apparently increase the so-called rate of warp up to a full one hundred per cent. Meadow claimed that’s how ponification was done.
He also revealed his and Minnie’s ‘great invention’. While regular nanites burned out almost instantly under constant warping, the new breed they’d created had some sort of backup. That way the nanites – like tho ones in Meadow’s armour – would always wait for a new task when warping. Though Meadow didn’t explicitly state it, Chase was sure those nanites were to blame for the fate of the Bureau.
Chase had seen a brief glimpse of Skippy a few times, and each time he had to stop himself from leaning towards the window or craning his neck over Meadow’s shoulder. If the camera drone had been broadcasting all this time, there’d probably be at least some people outside already – most likely waiting for Meadow to complete his story.
“There are things I’d like to ask those princesses of yours,” the man said while standing up, and went to lean against the counter again. “Whose idea was it to invade us? Chase, this is an invasion. Non-violent, yes, but still, they just don’t share it with pawns like you.” Meadow turned to look at the window. It appeared Chase’s fortune was finally running dry.
        A few steps, and Meadow was there, turning the blinds. “South State should’ve ch–” Skippy revealed itself in its entirety, a small red light winking at Chase on the side of its obvious camera. Meadow froze for a moment and then stormed into the hallway.
        Chase had already prepared his options. The smartest thing to do was to keep cool until something like the feds arrived and rescued him, but that involved waiting. Chase had had enough of waiting.

In terms of survival – or just about anything – what Chase did wasn’t too bright. He hopped on the table, and despite some painful protests by his hind legs, leaped through the kitchen window. He’d figured Skippy must’ve been set to follow him, thus it shouldn’t evade him like it did with Rainbow Dash.
        Flying through the double-glazing didn’t feel as bad as Chase had thought, but that must’ve been due to panic, he’d pay for it later. That is, if he didn’t run out of storeys first.
        Chase held his eyes tightly shut, but that didn’t prevent him from hearing and feeling a shock wave coming from his left. That instant something cut into his side forcing him to open his eyes; it was a black propeller blade.
        He tried to fight off the realisation of his demise.
Fifth floor... Somepony had to be on the street ready to catch him.
Fourth floor... Maybe a hay cart.
Third floor... Maybe a cart, full of hay.
Second floor... He should’ve been born a pegasus.
Impact. It came too early, and it wasn’t the kind of splat Chase had expected. It was softer, like the ground budged under his weight. And it hurt. Was dying supposed to hurt?
“I feel kinda bad for Skippy. It did a nice job tracking you down, Zephyr. Now hang on!” Chase wrapped his front legs around Rainbow Dash’s neck, and they took off. Chase managed to take one last look up at the sixth floor of the apartment block. Meadow stared back. “There are some folks wanting to see you, but I think we gotta stop by the hospital first.”
Sounds of sirens echoed on the streets below. Chase prayed that Meadow wouldn’t hurt too many of them.

A newfoal unicorn – with a silver coin for a cutie mark – was taking care of Chase’s injuries. In addition to the part of Skippy deep in his side, he’d got numerous cuts from broken glass, and the doctor wanted to redo Meadow’s stitchwork. Where needed, she applied local anesthesia, so Chase was awake during the whole thing.
        Doctor Penny was one interesting pony. She had blue coat and powder blue mane and tail with a violet stripe in each. More interesting, however, was her infuriating method of directing Chase’s attention away from the ordeal – which, of course, was another ordeal on its own.
        “My family hated me for becoming a vet. They didn’t outright say it, but c’mon, they wanted a real doctor. Well, who’s laughing now?”
It went on. “Wow, this one’s nasty, and this one looks like a pony, or is it an octopus?”
And on. “I’ve heard somepony’s directing a new version of Macbeth, with ponies! Wonder if they’re gonna tone down the violence...” Chase wanted Jared.
He didn’t get to ask for any before two visitors entered, silencing doctor Penny. A sky blue pegasus and a brick red earth pony wearing a white cap and carrying a dark purse in her neck. “Rainbow Dash, Fiona, thank you!” The doctor nodded and left.
“What are you thanking her for?” Rainbow Dash blurted and got a nasty glare from Fiona. “C’mon, Fiona. A joke.”
Fiona snorted at her and turned to Chase, who was lying on his back on a bed in a semi-upright position, for he had no good side to rest on. “Though it’s true, I didn’t do much. It was mostly Rainbow and Bennett.”
“How is he? Is he okay?” Chase asked. Rainbow Dash answered by swinging her hoof around her temple for a few times.
“He’s troubled,” Fiona added, “probably wants to say hello and congratulate you on your news story. He promised to give a call when he could.”
“And we’re all glad you made out OK, well, somewhat.” Rainbow Dash added with a cheesy grin. Chase smiled back at both of them. He was glad as well. “But oh, don’t forget, Chase. Skippy made you the most famous pony on Earth! So, awesome!”
        
Yeah, thought Chase, as awesome as cancer.


***


Sudden fast-paced rock music turned a couple of heads in a diner in Columbus, Ohio. Nathan Isakson took the phone out of his pocket and answered: “Nathan.”
        “It’s Andy,” a male voice responded, “I got your message. Count me in.”
        “Holy shit! That’s great, Andy! So, uh, no hard feelings?”
        “I always blamed the producers, not gonna change it now.” Nathan chuckled, though he knew well that Andy was lying. “How come you got asked back again? We’re they so disappointed with the first show that they sued ya and got another?”
        “Hey, of course not. The memorial’s gonna be so huge that we insisted. They agreed, but only if we get you and Kleef to join us on stage.”
        “Only if you get us to join ya? Nathan, that’s low, even from you.” A flash of anger crossed Nathan’s mind, but he chuckled it away.
        “Since you’re doing it, Andy, I can take that. But please, think of this as a favor from us. It’s not easy to find opportunities like these.” Andy replied with a small apology, and Nathan continued. “Great. I already called Kleef, he’s in. The producer will contact you tomorrow. See ya.”
        Nathan was relieved. Andy’s answer came just a day before the deadline. Now he could safely focus on the event. New Year’s Memorial Concert: Featuring The Wicked. In Millennium Park in Chicago, Illinois. It’d be held in memory of the victims of South State Conversion Bureau. They’d even get one very special quest: Princess Celestia of Equestria.