//------------------------------//
// Part 4 
// Story: Manhattan Ballad 
// by ObCom 
//------------------------------//


Part 4
Rainbow Dash walked through the ever-changing interior of Camelot without breaking stride. Many had no clue where the seat of the Empress’ power was located. Camelot’s whereabouts were a closely guarded secret that involved weeks of testing while people upturned every stone of personal history. All to preserve Celestia’s unending reign of peace and love. Dash hoped it would never end. Her magenta eyes were focused straight ahead, but she felt the need to take a turn. Without breaking stride, she smartly turned on her heel and followed instinct. 
She had been to Camelot enough times that people swore she knew the layout by heart, even though the engineers had sworn that such a feat was impossible. Her trick was to get to the statue in the center, which never changed, and then everything would fall into place. With a few more turns, Dash found herself staring at the statue of the Empress Celestia. 
Those who passed through were usually too busy to spare more than a sideward glance and a half-hearted salute. Dash, who never stopped working, refused to fall into such habits, lest the Empress thought she did not take her responsibilities seriously. She stepped forward, never breaking the statue’s motherly gaze, and felt her heart beat increase as she performed her crisp salute. A few people walked past, but if they were going to say anything about her display, they would wait until they were far away. Dash didn’t care about them. All that mattered now was the Empress and her wishes. When she was done, she turned around to get her bearings, and then she was off. Less than a minute passed before she was at her destination, at the office for the Empress’ Horn. Three concise knocks on the door signaled her presence. 
Through the door, she heard, “Come in.” 
Dash pushed through and was saluting before the door closed. “Reporting, Commander.” She saw the slight shudder Twilight Sparkle undoubtedly tried to repress. 
“At ease,” she said, and Dash relaxed, folding her arms behind her back and shifting her feet an inch farther. Twilight folded her hands and swallowed. Dash had worked with her long enough to know that her commander was uncomfortable. That was when she noticed that Twilight’s ocular augments, a semi-circle encompassing each eye, were lifeless. Twilight was giving Dash her full attention. Dash’s heartbeat went up, but she would stand still until she had her orders. Feeling that Twilight didn’t want to have a pair of eyes boring into her was the last thing she wanted, Dash tried to look at something interesting. She had seen Twilight’s black, orderly desk thousands of times before, and she had seen the view behind Twilight many more times. Anything worth looking at, the books and paintings, were directly behind her. Twilight coughed and Dash immediately focused on her superior. 
“I called for you to come here to fulfill the Empress’s wishes,” Twilight began. “The time for humanity is ending, Dash.” The look on Dash’s face caused Twilight to pause, but she soon had her emotions under control. “Our augments, our greatest achievements, are going to be the death of us.” Twilight twirled her hand in a lazy circle, each finger starting to glow. “But the Empress has found a way out, but it’s not easy.” Twilight closed her eyes, her augments shedding a light blue across her face. “You have been chosen personally for your loyalty, even after…” Twilight trailed off, realizing she might be opening an old wound. Dash winced inside and hoped her commander wouldn’t notice. After clearing her throat, Twilight continued, “Your loyalty. Everything you need to know has been sent to you.” 
Dash saw an icon appear in the corner of her vision. She quickly blinked twice and opened the file, magenta eyes scanning the information. There was no way to tell, but Dash felt as if her features hadn’t shifted at all. Twilight gave her a brief frown, although Dash had no idea why, and said, “What you are being asked to do will undoubtedly go against your morals, Dash. Can we rely on you?” 
“If it is the Empress’ wish, I will gladly do it,” Dash said without hesitation. 
Twilight looked at her with a look approaching sadness and sighed. “Very well. Dismissed.” Dash saluted, turned on her heel, and was halfway out of the door when Twilight called, “Dash, are you sure you’re alright?” 
Dash’s eyes glazed for a moment. Images she didn’t want to see flew past her. She wanted to grab a hammer and destroy those memories. Nothing was allowed to hurt her, nothing short of failing the Empress. Nothing was supposed to. She was Rainbow Dash, one of the original six, those who…. Original six. Now five. A lump formed in her throat and she quickly cleared it with a quiet cough.
“It’s under control, Commander,” she said and walked out. If Twilight had called out to her, Dash ignored it. There was nothing more that the commander could tell her about her mission. There was no need to continue the conversation. She had been dismissed. Dash violently shook her head, making her rainbow color hair look like she hadn’t spent any time brushing it. She had to get those thoughts out of her head, she had to stay focused. The Empress had personally requested that she should do this, and she was not going to fail. Not again. Yet, for some reason, the meeting with Twilight had left a bad taste in her mouth. Her hand itched, and she had the sudden desire to shoot something. At that moment, she had never wanted to go to the shooting gallery more.

That day marked the beginning of the Reclamation. Around the world, Imperial troops descended in their shining white and gold armor to take whoever they wanted with Celestia’s blessing.  Most of the people went without quarrel, proud to do whatever their Empress deemed necessary. Pictures of smiling humans under armed escort assaulted Vinyl’s eyes whenever she looked at the news. There were those who did not want to go along with the soldiers, though the instances were few and scarcely documented. Those that ran were ruthlessly hunted, and if people fought, only the augmented were killed. Rumors said that Rainbow Dash personally spearheaded the hunter teams. 
Journalists, from professionals to people restrained to social networking sites, wrote about the indecency of the act. The Empress’ propagandists soon drowned their voices, but their questions found their way into the population’s mind. What could the Empress be thinking? How could tearing families apart be for the greater good? Where were they taking them? 
One night, a French philosopher had said something important, although Vinyl couldn’t remember the man’s name or what he even looked like. He might not have been French either. Vinyl had watched the original broadcast while Octavia sat on the couch next to her, staring into space while Vinyl relayed the news to her. She remembered falling silent during the philosopher’s argument, Octavia’s purple eyes falling on her with concern. Finally, she had said, “He thinks we’re all fucked.” 
The change in life was subtle but steady over the month since the Reclamation began. Nothing serious, such as armed riots, had happened yet, which Vinyl was thankful for. The people walked with less conviction, their postures becoming stooped. The music that had once poured out of the clubs was a slight whimper now. There were times when Vinyl was outside and didn’t hear a single car drive past. Humanity wouldn’t die for years, but the city had already bought its coffin. 
Despite all of the turmoil and melancholy, Vinyl felt good. She had been bound to her apartment with Octavia, only leaving when they needed supplies or to stretch her legs.  Whenever she went outside, she kept her head down like everyone else and always brought the pistol with her. The gun’s familiar weight now gave her a sense of security. 
The month had been strange, and there were plenty of people who had given up, but at least she could go home to someone who hadn’t gone insane yet.    

Vinyl walked in from the rain that day with a bag of groceries. Before she could say anything, Octavia yelled, “I am going to tear the paint off of these fucking walls!” 
Letting out a low whistle, Vinyl said, “Careful with the language, Tavi. You’re going to burn my innocent ears.” She decided to leave out the fact that there was no paint on the walls, that they were, in fact, made of brick. 
Octavia snorted. “Right, and we wouldn’t want that to happen.” She put a hand on her temple and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Vinyl, it’s just that there isn’t anything to do here. I’m a little restless.” 
“What about that notebook you brought?” Vinyl asked from the kitchen. 
“Full.” 
“Can I read it?” 
Octavia blushed. “No.”
Vinyl flashed a grin. “What’re you writing in there that’s got you like that? Hot stuff?”
“I beg your pardon?!” 
“I was just joking,” Vinyl chuckled. She pulled her head out of the cabinet to see Octavia putting down an empty can. Knowing that Octavia had planned to throw it at her, Vinyl’s grin grew. 
“You’re terrible,” Octavia said with a light chuckle of her own. 
“Yeah, and you’re stuck with me. What’s for dinner?” 
Octavia made a show of thinking for a moment before flopping onto the couch. “You’re cooking. Surprise me,” she said, folding her arms behind her head. 
Vinyl lowered her goggles. “You want me to cook? Think you’re ready to set up camp on the toilet again?” She asked with a wink.
“No tacos,” Octavia glared, which soon fell apart when Vinyl kept smiling. “Fine, make whatever you want.” She closed her eyes and started humming to herself. Instead of bursting into action, Vinyl put her hands on the counter and watched Octavia. She was surprised that, after only a few moments of conversation, Octavia had transformed from a whirlwind of profanity and destruction to the girl humming and tapping her foot to a song. “Chop, chop, Vinyl,” Octavia said without opening her eyes. 
Groaning loudly, Vinyl opened up the fridge and looked inside. She had no idea what to make, and when her mind wandered, it wasn’t thinking about food. A long time ago, Vinyl had read an article about how people would willingly close their eyes and fall backwards to see if they could trust their friends or not. Vinyl could make something spicy and laugh herself to sleep, or she could make something Octavia would like. Biting her lip, she pulled out some eggs and a carton of milk. 
She stopped with her hand in the cupboard, a thought dawning on her. Why did she care what Octavia wanted? This was still her apartment, and she was confident that she was only using food she had paid for herself. If someone told me I’d be doing this a month ago, I would’ve laughed in their face, Vinyl thought. She stole a glance over her shoulder at Octavia, who was still humming, and felt a small smile grow. But I’m here and I’m doing it anyway, so fuck it. I’d do it again, she finished. 
Dinner had been coming along when Vinyl heard Octavia get off of the couch. She joined her at the kitchen and, leaning on the counter, looked at the pan. Raising her eyebrow, Octavia asked, “Pancakes?” 
Vinyl chuckled and looked at Octavia. “Surprised?” 
Octavia took a deep breath and sighed. “I shouldn’t be,” she said and went back to the couch. Vinyl’s smile grew and she turned back to the pancakes. The two were silent as a tower of pancakes was slowly constructed. Vinyl was going to tell Octavia that dinner was done when Octavia asked, “Do you hear that?” 
Confused, Vinyl closed her mouth and listened. There were thousands of sounds in a city at any given time, and nothing sounded out of place. What was Octavia talking about? The people? The obnoxious screamo music from the kid a few floors up? The steadily increasing reverberation that was making the apartment shake? Vinyl shook her head. Of course it was the last one. 
Octavia had gotten off of the couch and headed to the window. Vinyl turned the stovetop off before joining her. “Oh fuck,” Vinyl said when she saw the fleet hanging over the city. The Reclamation had arrived.