The Dark Cloud led me far through the forest, but at a running pace we made good time, regardless of pesky things like bushes. Thou Bushes Shalt Not Stop Advanced Ceramics, indeed. Finally we arrived at a run-down castle in the woods.
“This place looks like you threw an antimatter-matter grenade in it and then left it to age for a long time,” I said, none-too-tactfully. Thankfully, the Dark Cloud either didn’t understand me or didn’t mind too much, but she did answer.
“I know not of your ‘matter-antimatter grenades,’ but this place has aged one thousand years since I last saw it,” replied the Dark Cloud. “Now, just stand out here, and if you see six colorful ponies come by, kindly incapacitate them for hostages, would you?”
“Sure, sure-- wait, what?” I tried to ask, but the cloud had already entered the run-down castle. “Thousand years sounds like an awfully specific number. Organics tend not to live that long, so maybe it’s a central computer controlling those nanobots. Maybe even unaware of its true nature.” I sat down on the steps leading up to the front door and waited, watching for these ponies for the Dark Cloud. Why in the Hells would the Dark Cloud ever need six colorful ponies when a hitsquad is coming? Are they the mounts?
Regardless of my arguments, life was determined to throw more mysteries at me. I heard voices talking in the distance. All of my listening was for naught, as it was little more than a mumbling at that distance. Suddenly, it stopped. I listened and listened, but it was gone. There was one faint cry, then silence.
I strained my ears, but heard nothing for a while. Then, out of the blue, it started up again. I began to hear footsteps, falling in sets of three. Perhaps these ponies, but with the hitsquad? Nevertheless, I watched the entrances to the clearing. The voices were also female, I could understand that now, and were congratulating each other on something.
Just then, six colorful ponies popped into the clearing, continuing the conversation. I had to wonder if I had ingested some acid or something before I shook my head and noticed they were still there and looking at me.
“‘Ello?” I called out to them.
They stepped back a smidgeon, then looked at each other. Finally the purple one called back. “Hello?”
“Wow, you can talk. Well, I’m being ordered to incapacitate you on pain of death. Nothing personal you see, I just rather like my windpipe. Hope I'm not causing a war or something.” With that, I leapt to the attack. The pistons on my suit fired, boosting my movement, launching me at them with speed unheard of while they gawked at my display. I pulled out my hammer and slammed it into the ground, stumbling them before I took a swipe with the haft of my sledge at one of them. Orange. That was about when I noticed the fact of their distribution of races - two were pegasi, two were unicorns, two were regular ponies.
Shoulda swiped at a unicorn. Immortality sounds fun, even if I do need to drink some blood. The Dark Cloud might not take too kindly to that, though. The orange one went down under the force of the haft, thrown to the ground. “Wait!” the purple one cried, as I blocked a strike from the blue pegasi. Damn, that was a painful strike. Even through my ceramic armor, I could feel it. Not fun.
The white unicorn’s horn glowed a pure white, and I was moving through water and a white field. The purple unicorn joined in, and I was moving through molasses and a roughly pink field. A sitting duck. Wonderful. Just as I was about to strike out with my suit’s point-defense system (a component of building the effects of your ridiculous ‘shield’ concept) when it continued. “We can protect you!” it said.
“Really now? From mythical creatures and nanobots? I suppose a mythical creature best fights another.”
It stopped mid-track at that. “What are you talking about?”
“Unicorns and pegasi are mythical creatures where I come from, as are manticores. Ponies exist, but as non-sentient beings that cannot plan for the future, nor solve logic problems, nor be as colorful as you. The black cloud that calls itself Nightmare Moon I can recognize as nanobots, but it claims that it’s magic. Feh. No such thing, I say.”
They stared at me incredulously. They were speechless, and strangely enough, the toxicity level was above what it was before, somehow. More toxic than more toxic than airborne viruses that turn you into a killing machine and radiation combined? Good job, you’ve officially scared me, wherever I am. Apparently non-toxic for ponies, though.
“What do you know about Nightmare Moon!?” the blue pegasus asked, obviously agitated.
“Threatened me with death via manticore if I didn’t incapacitate you for hostages. I’ve got bits and pieces of the story, here. My current running theory is that she’s a military supercomputer AI that is unaware of its status as a computer, went rogue and tried to conquer everything while using nanobots as its avatar. You likely carry EMP-based weaponry to deal with this threat, yes?” I said, beaming with pride at my likely story.
“Did anypony understan’ a thing he just said af’ter the threats?” said the orange pony. They all shook their heads, except the pink pony, who was laughing and rolling on the floor.
“Come with us,” said the purple unicorn. “We’ll protect you from her.”
“Sure. Okay. Fight the nanoscopic robots without EMP. Great idea. I’ll follow you.”
“Great!” replied the purple unicorn. “Now for introductions. My name’s Twilight Sparkle. This here’s Rainbow Dash,” she showed me to the blue pegasus with a rainbow mane as she did a heroic pose, “Applejack,” she gestured to the orange pony as she rubbed her head from my blow, “Rarity,” she gestured once more, this time to the other, white and purple-maned, unicorn, from whom I could see ideas flying across her eyes (Hey! I’ve looked like that before!), “Pinkie Pie,” the pink pony popped up in my face before she could properly gesture in her direction, “and, certainly not the least, Fluttershy.” This time she could gesture, and a yellow, pink-maned pegasus cowered before me. Maybe not the best first impression.
“Names,” I responded. “Names have so little meaning where I come from. Anyone could die at any time, and an excess emotional attachment could spell a deadly depression. We called each other by descriptions. Green, I suppose you can call me. Engineer by trade.” They looked a little down after that, so I said, “Don’t let that get you down. We’ve got a military supercomputer to defeat!” That, at least, seemed to get a smile out of them.