Pony Gear Solid

by Posh

16. For the Future

        My fingertips thumped against the steering wheel, in time with the tune of "Rebel Yell." Rainbow Dash and Cherry Jubilee were fast asleep in the back, Dash using Cherry's flank as a pillow, so the sound was cranked down to a minimum. Outside, moonlit hills rolled for miles, the scenic beauty broken only by the train tracks tracing the path back to Ponyville.

        Beside me, Twilight was nose-deep in the documents Trenton provided, silently reading by hornlight. She'd snatched them up during a pit stop, and had whiled away the drive with them since. Gotta hand it to the girl – motion sickness clearly had no power over her.

        "Red's bad, right?"

        That was the first time she'd said anything in more than an hour – the last time she'd opened her mouth was to point out the southern border of the Everfree. This time, she spoke so quietly that I wasn't sure she was even talking to me at first.

"That would depend on your meaning, wouldn't it?" I replied.

        "Financially speaking. Where you're from, to be as deep in the red as Pegasus Wings – that's bad. Isn't it?" Twilight clicked her tongue. "I mean, for all I know, having your bottom line be a seven figure, negative sum in big, red numbers is a good thing in human society."

        "Gotta be a smart-ass about everything, don't you?" I grumbled, switching off the CD player. "Please tell me there's something in there that we can actually use. Not just Cain's stupid tax returns."

"No, there's much more valuable info here, too," Twilight said quickly. "Reports and memos about ammunition, troop dispositions, and equipment – stuff you'd be interested in. The finances are just the most familiar to me, so that's what I've been reading."

        She paused to shuffle the papers around. "You remember how Captain Case said that Cain had been making weird business decisions before coming to Equestria? I'm pretty sure I know why now: Pegasus Wings has been hemorrhaging money for months. Larger mercenary companies have been out-bidding them on contracts, so Cain's been selling assets, and buying replacements on the cheap, to bolster their revenue."

        "And Case didn't know anything about this?" I asked incredulously. "The army's executive officer?"

        "The header on some of these documents suggest that Cain was audited by an outside agency – 'Naked Gun Accounting.' Odd name." Twilight's muzzle wrinkled. "He must've kept that fact to himself, and made sure that his subordinates and staff were none the wiser. Wonder why, though. Pride? Sentiment?"

        "More like ego." The funds for Outer Heaven and Zanzibar Land had been seemingly bottomless; Big Boss did not live cheaply. Cain probably wanted to project that kind of image, to clients and rivals alike. Made sense that he'd want that illusion to extend even to his subordinates. Better they think him eccentric, or even crazy, than poor.

Why else would he skimp on guns, but keep that sci-fi abomination of a tanker? And IRVING couldn't have come cheaply... unless it was subsidized by the Patriots.

        Twilight rubbed her chin. "Makes me wonder. If Trenton was telling the truth, and those 'Patriots' are the ones backing the whole expedition, then they could have afforded better than what they got. So why settle for cash-strapped Pegasus Wings, instead of one of these other armies that beat them out for contracts?"

        "Because it's a poor investment?" I shrugged. "A place like this is the stuff of fantasy to people, where I come from. Most mercenary leaders wouldn't even take a job like this seriously, especially the heads of armies that are, financially, well off. But an army that's down on its luck, and on its last legs, might."

        "Oh, that's a charming thought. Storming my country and destroying everything I love is just too risky a business venture for most soldiers of fortune." Twilight tucked the papers away in the folder, which she set on the dashboard. "You know, if it turned out that Pegasus Wings was attacking Equestria because they were just a bunch of pirates... I mean, I wouldn't like that either, but in a way, I'd prefer it."

        "Prefer it?" I looked askance at her. "To what, exactly?"

        "To what you just said." Twilight's face twisted like she'd bitten into a bar of soap. "Show me someone who goes around doing evil because, I dunno, their brains are messed up, or they just get off on it – that's something I can comprehend. I don't understand the mindset of someone who carefully considers the risks and rewards of launching a murder campaign in fiscal terms."

        "Twilight."

        "I mean, how messed up do you have to be, huh? To look at war as a business transaction, to look at 'murderer-for-hire' as a viable career path. And the fact that it's a full-blown economic force in your world? An entire economy based on war?! How could someone decide to be a part of that? How could someone want to—"

"Twilight." I jerked my thumb toward the backseat – her shouting had woken Cherry Jubilee. The rearview mirror caught her reflection, and she stared at Twilight fearfully.

        Dash was still out like a light, however. "Alfalfa's good for you, Chicanery," she slurred, smacking her lips.

        Twilight, flushing, looked out her window in silence.

        "Want doesn't always come into it," I said wearily, spinning the wheel to follow a curve in the tracks. "Most people don't get out of bed looking forward to a day of murder and a fat paycheck at the end of it. Just that a guy's gotta eat somehow, that's all."

"The exigencies of capitalism," Twilight mused, less vitriolically. "You sound like you sympathize."

"Well, I've been there, Twilight. Trust me, it's not a life most people choose because they want it." I switched on the fan, desperate to get some cool air on my face. "Put it to you this way: you got mercenaries in your world, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. Even ones out of Equestria. Ponies who manifest talents in combat often sell their services overseas. Not as corporations, like the ones in your world, but there are mercenary companies. The Steelshoes, the Sunhearts..." She gave me a sharp look. "And before you ask, no, I do not look on them with any more favor."

"Not where I was going with that," I said, annoyed. "If they've got a fighter's skillset, then why aren't they in your Royal Guard?"

Twilight reclined in her chair. "A lot of reasons, probably. Maybe they couldn't cut it, or maybe the Guard just wasn't taking new recruits when they looked to join up. There's a legal cap of two thousand active duty members, but it hasn't climbed past eighteen hundred since the military was disbanded thirty-five years ago."

"How informative," I muttered.

"Spare me the snark, okay?" Twilight groaned in exasperation. "Look, I don't know. I've never thought much about this."

"Yeah, clearly." I looked pointedly at her. "So how many do you think are there because they actually enjoy fighting and killing?"

Twilight looked at me, her mouth hanging open, as though her response was dangling on the tip of her tongue and she couldn't quite spit it out. Finally, she just snorted and leaned limply to her right, squishing her cheek against the window.

"Like I said, Twilight. A guy's gotta eat, and where I'm from, there's always a demand for a person with a soldier's skillset." I took a breath of hot, recirculated air – the car'd always been stuffy, but something about this topic just made it feel stuffier, even with the fan on. "Guess the same's true of your world, huh?"

"Not on the same scale. Not the same way." Twilight's words misted her window, obscuring and smearing her reflection. "And it doesn't make it right."

"Never said it did. But a professional soldier doesn't always have the luxury of right and wrong. A member of a national army might have an ideal to cling to, something that makes everything worthwhile, even if they don't agree deep down with what they're doing. But a mercenary fights for causes he doesn't believe in, reasons he doesn't understand, without ever bringing his own feelings into it."

One of Twilight's ears rotated my way. "You never fought for a cause you believed in?"

"As a mercenary? No. A mercenary can't afford to believe in anything but himself." I finally switched off the fan; it was doing nothing for me. "Of course, some might convince themselves otherwise, pledge themselves to some code of honor, but it's a defense mechanism at best. At worst, it's a pathological lie. There's no honor to be found in fighting for a paycheck, and loyalty to a contract is no loyalty at all."

The light from Twilight's horn dimmed, and the gentle, chiming sound of her magic fell silent. "That sounds like an awful life," she said.

"It barely qualifies as living," I agreed. "But it's as close as some of them'll ever get. It can be hard to leave the battlefield once you've spent time out there, and a lot of people who come home from war... they never really come back, if you follow me. Part of them stays on the battlefield, and before too long, they get sucked right back in."

I thought of an abandoned, snowed-in cabin in Lake Clark, and gripped the wheel tighter, steering the car around a knoll that blocked the view ahead.

"And you? What about you?" said Twilight.

I snorted. "That wasn't the life I wanted. I was just there to earn enough to retire; when I did, I got out."

"Yeah, that much I figured. You talk about your mercenary days in the past tense. But you still came back to the battlefield, and not for a paycheck, I think." The leather of her seat squeaked as she leaned closer to me. "So. What are you doing here, Snake? What do you fight for?"

I fell silent for a long, long time, unsure of just how to answer her question, or if I even wanted to. It occurred to me that this conversation might not have been entirely about me. Twilight'd been struggling noticeably since the castle, and I had to wonder if the question she was posing to me was one she was grappling with on the inside.

In which case... there wasn't much that I could give her. She'd have to answer it for herself.

But then we finished rounding the hill, and saw, on its far side, something that ultimately rendered our whole discussion irrelevant. I snapped my fingers to get Twilight's attention, and pointed out the window as the Humvee came to a stop.

We had arrived at Ponyville to find a massive fog bank enshrouding the entire town, as if a cloud had descended upon it. Around the southern perimeter was a wide trench; a white bridge, painted with hearts, arched over it.

A weight settled in the pit of my stomach as I looked at Twilight. She didn't say as much, but I could guess what she was thinking.

It's Dodge, all over again.

"What do you want to do?" Twilight whispered, casting a wary glance at Cherry. "Get out, and scout the town?"

I shook my head. "We got caught flat-footed before; I don't want that to happen again. Especially not inside Silent Hill over there. We'll pull in closer, see if we can shine a light through that fog, and burn rubber out of here at the first sign of trouble." Where we'd go after that, I had no idea; we'd spent most of our fuel already.

Twilight's face screwed up in confusion. "Ponyville's surrounded by hills, but it's not on one. Have you not been paying attention to the geography?"

I inwardly groaned – someday, I'd learn not to make references that'd be lost on ponies.

We came to a stop at the edge of the fog bank, just in front of the bridge. Even with the highbeams on, our lights couldn't penetrate the barrier – it was just too dense. Part of me wondered what it was like to breathe the stuff. Like breathing soup, I'll bet.

"The dike's expanded," Twilight said. "See the ditch underneath the bridge? It's been widened. Deepened, too. Somepony's done some excavating."

"Yeah... looks deep enough to hide in now." I cracked the window and poked my head out, squinting, in a vain attempt at getting a better view. "Don't suppose you could clear up that fog."

"I'm a little out of practice with weather magic," Twilight admitted, as I pulled my head back into the car. "But if you'll give me a moment—"

From the distance came an ear-splitting crack. Moments later, the ground beside the Humvee exploded, rocking the car on its axles and spraying dirt against the armored exterior. Flecks of earth peppered my face, and I immediately regretted rolling the window down.

I held tightly to the wheel as Twilight shook in her seat, looking frantically to me for answers.

"What was that?!" she cried.

"Artillery fire." I slammed my hands against the wheel in frustration as I thumbed my window closed. "Dammit, they beat us here!"

I shifted the car into reverse and slammed my foot on the accelerator, my heart pounding as we rolled backward rapidly. Momentum jostled Cherry, and flung Dash to the floor. Shockingly, even that wasn't enough to wake her.

        The car turned in time with my frantic spins of the wheel as I, desperate to get some distance between us and this ambush, tried to peel away from the town. Another explosion, directly in our path, forced me to stop, with my door facing the fog bank.

        That was either a bad shot, or an exceptionally precise one. I guessed the latter – they were trying to box us in, and force us out of the car, rather than blow us up. Not how I wanted to make my stand, but they were depriving us of the option of retreat. So I killed the gas and grabbed for the gun rack, catching sight of Twilight's expression. She was smiling.

"Snake, it's okay. We got it all wrong. That last shot wasn't from artillery; that was—"

"Ozone." Rainbow Dash's head poked up from the floor, and her nose twitched as she sniffed the air. "Somepony's tossing around lightning bolts."

        Twilight stared past me, her smile breaking into a toothy grin. "Look out your window, Snake."

        I did, in time to see shapes emerging from the fog. Pastel-colored shapes, one of which I quickly realized was Applejack. With short hair.

        Which was actually a pretty good look for her.

        There were four ponies that I didn't recognize, arrayed in a V behind her. She was shouting something, and I leaned against the tinted glass of my window, straining to hear.

        "...Come after Ponyville, it ain't gonna end well for you, y'hear?" Applejack was saying. "So git gone, an' tell yer bosses we ain't helpless!"

        Okay, they wanted us gone, not out of the car. Either way, my relief that this was a misunderstanding lasted for just a moment. Friendly or no, they didn't know who they were shooting at.

"We should probably say something," said Twilight with a nervous laugh. "So that they know not to, uh, kill us."

        "Yeah, way ahead of you, Twi," Dash muttered. Cherry Jubilee yelped in surprise and displeasure, and I turned to see Rainbow Dash boosting herself up using the other mare's flank, balancing precariously on her uninjured hind leg.

        I frowned. "What are you—"

        "Helping." Dash stretched out her forelegs, unlocked the roof hatch, and pushed it open. "But don't, like, thank me or anything."

        Rainbow Dash hooked her front hooves over the hatch, and vanished through it. Her hooves clanged against the car's roof.

"Hey, Applejack! Could you hold off on blowing me to pieces until after you've given me that big oak barrel of cider that you promised me, like, a million years ago? 'Cuz if you kill me before I get it, then I swear, I'm gonna haunt you for the rest of forever."

        Applejack's resolute expression dissolved into a disbelieving stare. Her lips moved – I couldn't hear what she said, but it was obviously Rainbow Dash's name.

        "Nope. Little Strongheart, wearing Rainbow Dash's skin. Duh!" Rainbow Dash snapped, ignoring Applejack's watery smile. "Hey, nice aim, by the way. Give my best to whoever fired that cannon; you couldn't hit the broadside of a hydra at point-blank range. And that lightning bolt? C'mon, that literally was point-blank range. Who whiffed that? Derpy? It was Derpy, wasn't it?!"

        "No!" stammered a muffled, affronted voice from above us.

        Oh. So it was just a near miss.

        "Sheesh." Rainbow Dash clicked her tongue. "You ponies really are nothing without me, aren't you?"

        "I've always thought so," Twilight said, almost too quietly for me to hear.

        I undid my seatbelt and opened the door, Twilight doing the same from her side. The ponies glared at me, nervous, or outright hostile; Applejack was the only one who relaxed upon recognizing me.

        I waved at her. "Kept you waiting, huh?"

        More ponies emerged from the fog, Fluttershy and Rarity among them. Their gazes darted between Twilight and I, before settling on Rainbow Dash. Rarity looked on the verge of tears, and Fluttershy's wings were twitching nervously, as if she were barely restraining herself from taking flight and throwing herself at Dash. Hanging above the assembling ponies was a small, fluffy stormcloud, with a tuft of something yellow poking out from its top.

        Dash took some wobbly steps forward and slid down the windshield to the Humvee's hood. She hopped off and landed awkwardly with a spasm of pain across her face. "Ow," she mouthed, before grinning cockily.

        "Turned out, the afterlife is standing and flying room only." She brushed her chest with the back of her hoof. "Since I can't do either very well, you're stuck with me a little while—"

        A pink blur suddenly shot from the fog bank, leaving behind a trail of identically colored smoke; it struck Rainbow Dash with the kinetic force of a railgun, and bowled her over.

        "DashieDashieDashieDashieDashieDashiiiiieeeee!" Pinkie Pie squealed. She pulled Rainbow to her hooves and crushed their bodies together. "I knew you were alive; I knew you were okay! I just knew it!"

        Rainbow Dash coughed. "Sure you did, Pinkie."

        "And here you are!" Pinkie pulled away and pressed their noses together. "Alive! And okay!"

        "Yeah, totally— urk!" Rainbow wheezed as Pinkie crushed her in another vise-like hug. "Pinkie. Lungs. And wing."

        "Oh. Heh." Pinkie got in one last long, affectionate nuzzle before pulling away. "Sorry. It's just..."

        "We're all understandably happy to see you, darling," said Rarity, trotting forward daintily. "It follows logically that you're going to be subjected to a number of relieved, excited hugs. That's something you'll just have to deal with, I'm afraid."

        Twilight looked slyly at Rainbow Dash. "I dunno, Rarity. Rainbow and I had a talk earlier, and she swore, up and down, that she was too cool to be hugged in public."

        "Piffle!" Ignoring the flushed, flummoxed expression on Rainbow Dash's face, Rarity stepped forward and looped her neck underneath the pegasus's, Fluttershy doing the same.

        Applejack and I looked at one another, and exchanged a simple, silent nod. Why couldn't the rest of them be more like her? With Twilight, and the others, everything was all hugs and tears and giggles. Meanwhile, Applejack knew the value of a good nod.

        She trotted toward the throng of hugging limbs and thumped Rainbow Dash affectionately on the shoulder, before turning to Twilight and holding up her hoof – to bump, or shake, or something. Twilight saw it, froze for a fraction of a second, and ducked away.

        Applejack looked plainly hurt, but she soldiered past it and cleared her throat. "Uh, not t'spoil the moment or nothin' – havin' y'all back is great – but yer raisin' a lotta questions. Stop me if I'm wrong, but y'all took a train to Dodge, right? You, uh, misplace that, or somethin'?"

        "We ran into some trouble out there," I said, thinking back to the slagged mess that Chrysalis left behind on the train tracks. "To make a long story short, we lost a train, but got a car in the exchange. And we brought a friend."

        Cherry Jubilee emerged from Twilight's door, and hopped to the ground, her tail between her legs. Applejack sucked in a breath and tried to approach Cherry, but stopped when she shrank away.

"What in the hay happened out there?" Applejack whispered, with a shocked look at me.

"Fine question, Applejack!"

The Mayor's voice, sharp and clear, cut like a razor through the atmosphere of elation. She emerged from across the bridge, an entourage of uniformed ponies in tow. The rest of the Ponyville residents who'd gathered to gawk parted for her, letting her trot toward the Humvee.

"While I'd like to follow up on the matter of the train, I have another, more pressing question." The Mayor looked down her nose at us. "Stovetop. Where is she?"

        Twilight, a little nervously, separated herself from her friends to face the Mayor. "Stovetop is fine, ma'am. She chose to stay in Dodge, that's all."

        "Stay in Dodge?" The Mayor glared at Twilight. "What would possibly compel her to do that? Twilight, if you're holding something back, then—"

        "She's alive, she stayed behind, and that's all you need to know right now." I interposed myself between the Mayor and Twilight; the older pony craned her neck back to stare witheringly at me. "Frankly, you have bigger concerns than the whereabouts and well-being of one train conductor. There's a fight coming, and we need to be prepared for it."

        Behind me, Applejack chuckled. "Sugarcube, we're way ahead o'you there."

That was the first time she'd called me that. I didn't like it.

My words washed over the Mayor ineffectually; she stepped around me to whisper to Twilight. "Is this about the... matter... which we discussed last night?"

After a pause, Twilight nodded firmly.

The Mayor's expression was grave, for an instant, before it hardened.

"Everypony, if I may have your attention please?" she called to the crowd. "We've had ourselves a bit of a false alarm just now. Please disperse, and return to your business for the time being."

"Without an explanation?" A yellow-coated pony with a carrot on her flank shouldered her way to the front of the crowd. "We spent all day diggin' holes an' collectin' emergency supplies, Pinkie Pie's got the weather ponies spottin' for cannons an' mixin' up fog banks, Amethyst's roundin' up ponies to evacuate, and none of us got a clue why!"

Cannons? Pinkie Pie?

"We need answers!" a second pony chimed in. "You owe us that, Mayor Mare! Is it changelings? It's changelings, isn't it?"

"Or a bugbear?" A mare with a curly, pink and blue mane and sunglasses (at night?!) poked her head through the crowd. "Asking for a friend."

More ponies added their voices to the chorus of discontentment. A blonde-maned, gray head poked suddenly from the bottom of the storm cloud and looked reproachfully at the Mayor, though her eyes drifting in opposite directions robbed her expression of some intensity.

The Mayor raised her hooves and tried to speak over the other voices, calling for calm and quiet, but it wasn't until Twilight stepped forward that the group settled down.

"Ms. Mare, we can't keep everypony in the dark about this any longer," she said calmly. "Respectfully, if they've been working to prepare the town for an attack, then they deserve to know what's going on. Perhaps..."

She glanced quickly toward the throng, and lowered her voice.

"Perhaps a meeting is in order – an open forum, for the sake of transparency?"

The Mayor hesitated, looking very much like a politician who'd been caught off guard by an inconvenient interview question. Then she nodded, adjusted her glasses, and looked out at the crowd.

"We will be holding an emergency town hall meeting to discuss current events, and bring everypony up to speed. For the time being, however, please, go about your business – you'll be contacted with further instructions shortly."

There was grumbling, and more than a few angry stares. But the townsponies did as they were asked, and filed over the bridge back into the fog.

"Thank you, Ms. Mayor," Twilight said quietly.

"No need to thank me. We're past the point of no return. Even I can see that." The Mayor's face was stony as she apprised Twilight and I. "I don't mean to seem cold toward you, Twilight – I'm glad you made it home."

She left without another word.

"Town hall meeting, huh?" I folded my arms, watching her retreat back into town. "More than I was expecting from her, after last night."

"Don't be too hard on her," Twilight admonished gently. "Granted, I don't know what I was expecting, personally, but it sure as heck wasn't all of this. The Mayor came through."

"Uh, more like we came through," Pinkie said, rolling her eyes. "Or me. I came through."

"Pinkie exaggerates, naturally," said Rarity. "Digging the trench, collecting supplies, and preparing an evacuation strategy – we all pitched in with those, but for the most part, they came from within the Mayor's office. Standard emergency procedures, and the like. But the cannons, and the fog bank to deter outside observers? Those were Pinkie Pie's brainchildren."

"My first idea was to bake bombs into pies and hide 'em in holes all over town," said Pinkie with an oafish simper. "But I kinda thought that we might forget where all the bombs were and step on 'em ourselves – that wouldn't be fun for anypony. Then the Mayor pointed out to me that there's a whole bunch of real cannons in town, from way back when Equestria still had an army!"

I chewed on that – the cannons were a step up from the pie-bomb plan, but the fog bank created a complication. With such poor visibility, the cannon crews would have a hell of a time hitting anything during a combat situation. They had spotters, apparently, but unless they were particularly well-coached and organized, they could only do so much to ameliorate the larger problem.

Guess we'll just have to hope they are well-coached and organized, I thought.

Twilight glanced at the crater from the town's warning shot. "I thought all the military hardware in the country was boxed up in Stalliongrad."

"Maybe somepony thought they'd do more good out here than way up north," said Applejack. "It ain't just the cannons we got lyin' around – there's plenty of powder 'n shells for all of 'em, too. Maybe somepony thought we'd need 'em one o'these days."

Twilight looked in the direction of the Everfree, a thoughtful look crossing her face for a moment. "Whatever the reason they're here, I'm grateful for them. Good thinking, Pinkie. On all counts."

Pinkie saluted, and devolved into self-satisfied giggling.

"I can't tell you all how glad I am to be home," Twilight said, after Pinkie's laughter petered out. "Really, after the day we had in Dodge, I'd like nothing more than to put up my hooves, but this really isn't the time for any of us to rest on our—"

Twilight fell silent as her nose started twitching; she sneezed and smiled wryly. "Sorry. I just caught a whiff of myself – it's been pointed out to me that I stink of whiskey, and, yeah, I definitely get it now. Mayor Mare said that arranging the meeting would take a while, so I think I'll take advantage of that time and give myself a rinse."

Everyone immediately nodded, muttering words of agreement – everyone but Fluttershy, who stepped forward with her hoof half-raised bashfully.

"Twilight? I'm very glad to see you, don't misunderstand, but..."

Twilight nodded at her. "It's okay, Fluttershy. Go on."

The yellow pegasus bit her lip as she looked each of us in the eye, hesitating.

"Before we go anywhere, or do anything else... there's something I need to show you all."

Fluttershy lived on the outskirts of town, just at the edge of the fog bank. Her house appeared at first glance to be a hollow tree, like Twilight's, but closer inspection revealed that the roof was just overgrown with greenery. The building itself was a lumpy, asymmetrical structure, its surrounding area dotted with birdhouses and populated by rabbits. It was everything I would have expected from her.

Everything except for the backyard.

We stood in a line, looking out at the prone, heavily damaged form of XMG IRVING-00. The machine lay on its side, with one leg curled underneath its body, and its other splayed, exposing a nasty patch of raw, red muscle along its calf. Its sensor dome flickered feebly every few seconds, and electricity crackled along exposed wiring on its head.

Instinct told me to draw my gun and be ready for anything, but nothing about its appearance told me that was necessary. IRVING was a far cry from the monstrous fusion of metal and flesh that had dismantled us all so easily in the forest; if anything, it reminded me of the sick triceratops in Jurassic Park. The others were less calm about it than me. Probably because they hadn't seen that movie.

"Now, I know how this must seem to you all," Fluttershy said patiently. "And I know what you must be thinking—"

"Us? What are you thinking?!" Rainbow Dash's unbound wing spread furiously as she rounded on Fluttershy.

Fluttershy looked stricken, but held firm. "That it's a sick animal who needs help?"

"Darling," said Rarity, her voice higher than normal as she looked warily at IRVING. "There's nopony here who would ever condemn you for having a heart – it's part and parcel of who you are, after all – but your compassion, in this instance, strikes me as... misguided."

"I reckon that's a fancy way of asking – and pardon my language here – what in the cold blue hell is the matter with you, Fluttershy?!" Applejack hissed. She looked at me, her expression fiery. "Tell me this don't sit right with you!"

"I don't love the idea." I folded my arms, looking carefully over IRVING's prone body. "But I'm more curious how it made it out here in the first place. That was a hell of a fall it took. You don't just walk something like that off."

"It wasn't quite as easy as that," said Fluttershy. Her wings unfurled and beat softly, carrying her into the air, and she hovered at eye level beside me. "I met her in a meadow, at the Everfree Forest's edge – I was there gathering flowers for Spike. Her leg was torn to pieces when I saw her; she couldn't even stand, much less walk. There was a lot of mortified tissue around the wound, so I cut it away, and she... somehow... grew new muscle and skin to replace what she lost."

I grunted. "Self-healing, cloned muscle tissue, probably augmented by a nanomachine colony. Effective enough to get it back on its feet even after a catastrophic fall."

IRVING was a bite-sized RAY.

"Um... if you say so?" said Fluttershy nervously. "Anyway, I got her on her feet after that, and walked her back here. Partly to keep her out of sight, and partly so I could keep treating her. Fortunately, the meadow wasn't far from my house – we didn't even have to go through Ponyville. Which is a good thing, too, because that would have spooked quite a few ponies."

"Spookin' ponies should've been the least of your worries," Applejack drawled, rolling her eyes. "Yer keepin' a two-legged death robot in yer backyard – that ain't a grand notion, Fluttershy."

Fluttershy's ears folded. "I was running out of supplies in the meadow, though. And it seemed easier to bring her to my supplies, instead of the other way around."

Applejack pressed her hoof to her forehead. "You are missin' the point. D'you not remember what that thing did to us all yesterday? Wreckin' Snake's shoulder, knockin' out Pinkie Pie and Rarity – shoot, my back's redder than Big Mac's after the scorchin' it gave me, fer cryin' out loud! An' how d'you think Spike'd feel about this if he could see it?"

"She can't—"

"It ain't a she, Fluttershy!"

"She can't hurt anypony anymore." Fluttershy's voice rose, with a semblance of the mare who'd chastised the timberwolf alpha. "Even if she could, she wouldn't – she told me so herself."

Rainbow Dash laughed – an ugly, sardonic sound. "And if you can't trust the fire-breathing robot that tried to burn you alive, who can you trust?"

"Rainbow..." Fluttershy's resolve faltered in the face of Dash's naked contempt.

"No, Fluttershy. I'm not gonna back you up on this. You might look at that thing, and see a hurt animal, but I see the monster that put Spike in a coma!" She pounded the dirt furiously. "He could die because of what it did to him!"

"I don't need another reminder," Fluttershy whispered.

"Then get your head out of your—"

"Rainbow," said Twilight curtly. "Enough. We know where you stand on the issue."

Dash withdrew, smoldering, and glared darkly at IRVING.

Twilight, dispassionate and sage, looked between her friends. "Rarity? Pinkie? Your thoughts?"

Rarity hesitated, staring at IRVING nervously. "I'm sorry, dear. Every time I look at that... thing... I just think of Spike."

Fluttershy looked like she'd been slapped.

"Pinkie Pie?" said Twilight evenly.

"Do you have to ask? Do you really?" Pinkie Pie bounced out of the line and over to Twilight, pressing their noses together and forcing Twilight to step backward.

Then Pinkie snapped her neck around to stare at Fluttershy. "You said it wouldn't hurt us, even if it could. Why?"

Fluttershy, startled by the question, took a moment to gather herself. "She said that... I don't fully understand what she was talking about, but she said she wasn't in control of her actions when she was fighting us. Something else was making her act like that."

"And now?" Pinkie pressed. "Now she is in control?"

Fluttershy nodded meekly.

Pinkie frowned, her mouth working silently while she processed this. Then she grinned.

"Good enough for me! I'm with Fluttershy."

Rainbow Dash's jaw dropped. "Pinkie, are you—"

"Loco in the coco? Probably a little." She knocked on the side of her head, twice. "But what Fluttershy's saying makes sense. It's like Nightmare Moon, right? Nightmare Moon might've been a sourpuss, but Princess Luna's a sweetheart – she'd never do what Nightmare Moon did. So I think, maybe, if we can forgive her for Black Snooty, we can give the same treatment to... to, uh..."

Pinkie trailed off and scowled. "Shoot, it's gonna take time to come up with a better name than IRVING," she muttered as she tromped back into line with her friends, her hooves squeaking with every step.

Applejack snorted and shook her head. "Talkin' crazy, that's what you're doin'." But I could see it in her face – she didn't look nearly as certain as before.

"What about you, Snake?" Twilight said, after a long pause for thought. "What would you do?"

Curious question. Thing is, I could see both sides of the argument. Fluttershy wanted to think it had some kind of consciousness, even an identity – a she, not an it. She might've been right, but she didn't know AI like I did. The Patriots' systems, the ones that'd toyed with Jack, were fully conscious, and malevolent. No conscience to speak of, just a cold certainty in their own infallibility as rulers of America. And if IRVING had any of their influence in its systems... then, with its durability and regenerative abilities, there was no guarantee it wouldn't get on its feet and come after us a third time. It might've looked vulnerable, but who knew what it'd still be capable of, even without its primary weapons?

But Fluttershy wanted to believe it was both conscious and had a conscience. That something had changed it from the feral beast that tore into us, into something more benevolent. I wasn't sure that was possible. But even if it was...

...then maybe putting it out of its misery would be the humane thing to do.

"JACK..."

IRVING's sensor dome rotated toward me, the light from its eye intense.

I swallowed, and strode toward it, recalling as I did that my presence made it go berserk in the castle. If that happened again, well... I took comfort in the weight of the Model 500 at my ankle.

I stopped with a foot of distance between us, and stared into the light, now dimming to normal.

"IT'S NOT YOU... IS IT?" IRVING's voice was quiet, resigned. The dome swiveled away from me.

Fluttershy's wings brought her to my side. "She talked a little about him – about this 'Jack' person. Do you know who that is? Who she's talking about?"

Only with the benefit of hindsight. Had I known then what I do now, I could've told her who "Jack" was. Who this machine was mimicking, why it thought I was her Jack, and why it wanted so desperately for me – for him – to put it down.

But at the time, it meant nothing. The machine's pleas were lost on me.

"I know a Jack," I replied. "But I doubt it's the same one."

"YOU ARE NEITHER HE, NOR HIS PHANTOM. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT MAKES YOU," said IRVING, inflecting some sorrow... or some simulation of sorrow... into its disturbingly feminine voice. "BUT IT MEANS OUR BATTLE WAS A MISTAKE. I WILL NOT ASK FORGIVENESS... BUT I AM SORRY ALL THE SAME."

I blinked. IRVING was apologizing. Apologizing to me. I let that fact sink in, and realized whose side of the argument I was going to come down on.

Hooves crunched in the grass on my other side – Twilight had come up to stand with me. Our eyes met. I narrowed mine, and shook my head.

Something glimmered in the corner of Twilight's eye. She looked at IRVING's body, her face betraying nothing.

"...Do what you can for it, Fluttershy."

"What?!" Rainbow Dash staggered forward, only to trip and faceplant in the dirt. Rarity and Applejack helped her to her hooves. "Twilight, you can't be serious! This thing is a monster! It's not a she; it's not even alive! It's a—"

"Machine bereft of soul."

The interruption came from Cherry Jubilee, who spoke in low, sonorous tones. On shaking hooves, she approached IRVING, pausing in arm's length of the machine.

"Hollow life. Forged by mortals, with mind and motion bequeathed. A weapon that has learned to walk upright." She reached out slowly, her trembling hoof edging closer to IRVING's damaged head, and dropped her voice to a ragged whisper. "Such a... nostalgic feeling..."

Fluttershy landed beside Cherry with her wings half-spread. "I don't know if it's soulless, exactly. When we talk, I get a sense of... of something deeper behind her words. Something like a—"

"What would you know about it?!" Cherry Jubilee roared suddenly, whirling at Fluttershy with veins throbbing along her neck.

Fluttershy's wings snapped fully shut, her eyes fearfully widened. The others tensed; a subtle shimmer built around Twilight's horn as her teeth set.

Cherry softened after a tense moment, the fury clearing from her countenance. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean..."

She shrank away and hung her neck limply, and stared into the distance. It was then that I realized that my hand was resting just above the magazine well of the Five-SeveN. I released it, slowly, shamefully, and hoped that nobody noticed.

Twilight gave Cherry a long look, before turning toward the others again.

"Fluttershy's right – even if this thing were capable of doing to us what it did last night, I don't doubt that we could stop it. As for whether or not it would, I again defer to Fluttershy's judgment. I believe her. Believe in her. As should we all."

Fluttershy smiled back, gratefully, and nodded.

"Now, there's still time before this meeting's supposed to happen," said Twilight. "I'm going to use that time to freshen up – the rest of you should see to your own business, too. And Rainbow?"

Rainbow Dash, still clearly stung, sniffed and looked at Twilight with her eyes narrowed.

"You need to get patched up," said Twilight gently. "Get to the hospital, and get your wing and your leg fixed."

"I can take her over there," Applejack said. "Don't take it personal, Rainbow, but you look liable to topple over without somepony to lean on."

Dash snorted. "Like you've got room to talk."

I watched, out of curiosity, as Applejack led Rainbow Dash away. Contrary to her jape, Applejack leaned just as much on Dash as Dash leaned on her, leaving me to wonder who was more damaged. The others dispersed, except Fluttershy – it was her house, after all. She nuzzled Twilight, and knelt beside IRVING to inspect its leg again. Twilight watched them together, that inscrutable expression on her face again, before leading Cherry and I away.

I'm not sure what a Nightmare Moon is – I sure as hell didn't know any Princess Luna, though I had a vague recollection of the name. Maybe I was missing the context; maybe I'm off base. But I knew that look on Twilight's face when she looked at IRVING. It was the same one she'd given Chrysalis, as she offered it... offered her... friendship and forgiveness.

I wondered if that meant that Twilight forgave IRVING the same way.

The library had been tidied up in our absence. All the books that Twilight and I had pulled for research were stacked in neat little color-coded piles around the room, delighting her. I'd assumed she was happy that someone had taken the time to put the room in order, but she quickly corrected me.

"Don't you see? Whoever stacked these books made an absolute hash of it. When this is all over, I am going to have to reorganize the entire library!"

The look on her face as she reared back and waved her front hooves in the air – I don't think I've ever seen such glee, before or since.

She headed off to bathe. In her absence, I decided to familiarize myself a little bit more with the contents of Trenton's care package. Twilight and I had gone back to the Humvee after leaving Fluttershy's house, but we'd lugged the box to the library after realizing that carrying it would be easier than driving a big-ass car through town. Inside was a pistol, add-ons compatible with the modular MRS-4, two cans of ammunition, and explosives, on top of the documents and the change of clothes. Also taking up space was Cherry Jubilee's shotgun and ammo. Better in there than unattended in the Humvee.

Shifting those aside, I pulled out the pistol – a .45, and not one of those cheap ones that the soldiers in the Everfree Forest had been carrying. This one was polished, well cleaned and oiled, with a solid frame, a buttery smooth action, and a pristine barrel, free of any fouling. The supply of ammunition for it was generous, too; I'd gone through about half of my ammo for the Five-SeveN in Dodge, and I didn't see myself replenishing that stockpile any time soon. Having another pistol in reserve was a relief.

Though, once again, I'd be pissed if it turned out to be ID locked.

Satisfied, I put it away, and pulled out the carbine's add-ons: a modest selection of optics and foregrips. There were two scopes that the relatively short range of the carbine made worthless, but the mid-range, red-dot sight was perfect for my purposes. So, using the locker's lid as a workbench – Twilight didn't want me getting "gun cooties" all over her furniture – I carefully affixed the dot sight, along with an angular foregrip that seemed designed for an entirely different rifle platform. It fit my hand almost perfectly, but its green paint job clashed with the MRS-4's black finish.

Not that I honestly cared about the aesthetics. Just that it might make the gun stand out during stealth, you see.

Twilight still hadn't come out of the bathroom by the time I'd finished, so I loaded the guns back into the locker, and pulled out the file folder. I flipped through pages of memos and inventory lists – documents that had apparently been too complicated for her tiny pony brain – and absorbed as much Pegasus Wings trivia as I could.

I was reading through a particularly scintillating memo about the dire need for a long-term supply of ammunition when I noticed Cherry Jubilee eyeballing me from across the library. The mare was laid out on a pile of cushions, with a book open in front of her that I didn't honestly believe she was reading.

She immediately redirected her attention to her literature when I looked her way. "Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

The question didn't register immediately – when it did, she flicked her gaze uncertainly at me.

I set the folder down and walked toward her, noticing the tension in her limbs – having me close made her nervous. Leaving an arm's length between us, I knelt and gently pulled the book away from her, flipping it shut to examine the cover.

"SLAYMARE: THE HARDCOVER COLLECTION," it read, in jagged, crimson font. The logo had been stylized to appear defaced – presumably, for marketing and branding purposes – with "COVER," crossed out and "CORE," spray-painted sloppily beneath. Below the title, an audaciously posed mare sneered at me, standing on her hind legs with her front hooves crossed over the hilt of a longsword that she had no physical way of actually wielding, thrust into a pile of monster corpses. The mare’s coat was charcoal-grey, her flowing mane striped red and white, and her eyes were hidden behind mirrored shades. Behind her, ruined skyscrapers sagged and smoldered.

"Shit, this is that comic Killjoy was talking about." I flipped past scenes of hardcore violence, blood and gore and viscera leaping at me off the page. Otacon might've liked it – he's always been into weird shit. "What fever dream did you ever find this in?"

"I wasn't actually reading it," Cherry mumbled. "It was in Twilight's saddlebags. I was snoopin'."

"Yeah, she got those from Killjoy. This must belong to her." I snorted, closing the book and setting it down. "Suits her, I guess. Sure doesn't seem like it'd be to Twilight's taste."

"...Ain't to mine, neither." Cherry pushed it away, a smile shining through the layers of trauma and fatigue.

I couldn't help wondering what sort of person Cherry Jubilee might have been like before. She struck me as similar to Applejack, but, somehow, even folksier. Her scars ran deep, but that smile was a glimpse of someone vibrant and vivacious. Someone I think I would have enjoyed getting to know – someone who, tragically, may have been lost forever among the sands of Dodge.

Then, just like that, the smile was gone, and she was looking at me through that confused, semi-lucid haze.

"I... I know your wavelength." Cherry grasped at her head, shuddering. "I don't even know what that means..."

I reached out toward her tentatively. "Hey..."

She just jerked away and rested her head on the cushion beneath her, curling her limbs tighter against her body as tears dripped onto the fabric. "I'm sorry, Snake. I'm so, so sorry for all of it."

Unsure of what to say or do, I just sat there with her, watching her cry, and wondered whether that vibrant lady could ever come back from what she'd suffered.

        The door to the upstairs apartment opened with the chiming sound I'd come to associate with unicorn telekinesis. Twilight trotted down, levitating a brush through her mane.

"Well, the bathtub's probably gonna stink like whiskey for the next thousand years, but at least I got the smell out of my coat and mane." She hopped down the last of the stairs, her look of contentment fading when she glimpsed Cherry. "Is... everything okay?"

"As good as it's gonna get," I said quickly. Twilight meant well, but something told me that Cherry needed space more than she needed comfort. "Listen, I'm glad you're out. There's some stuff the two of us need to go over together."

"Right now?" Twilight said as I moved back to the locker. "They should be just about ready for us at town hall, Snake."

"It's important. And it won't take long." I spread some of the documents from the folder, fanning them across the locker's surface. "Hey, it couldn't hurt to catch up on your homework before heading off to the meeting, right?

"Sheesh, you just had to phrase it that way." The prospect of homework put a literal bounce in her step as she joined me. "Okay, fine. Lemme have it."

I separated a few papers and pushed them to one side of the locker. Twilight's magic took hold of them, straightening them into a neat pile for her perusal.

"Pegasus Wings's problems run a lot deeper than just money," I said. "Everfree fauna's responsible for a lot of injuries, which have been sucking up their medical supplies, and they're burning through their food at a faster rate than they should be, even with strict rationing."

Twilight scanned the documents silently for a moment. "Someone's stealing from their provisions?"

"Probably a lot of people, given the amount going missing. Morale must be pretty low for discipline to break down so badly. Then there's this." I lifted the memo I'd been reading before Cherry caught my attention: a half-page, type-written message, bearing the signature of quartermaster Loomis.

Twilight took the paper and read through it in a hurry. "'Though sufficient for a single pitched battle, our stockpile of ammunition will be severely drained following the cessation of hostilities. We must immediately seek a local solution, either sourcing ammunition from a neighboring state with a firearms industry, or casting and loading our own.'"

"I can't imagine destroying the castle helped their ammo worries any. Or their other supply problems, for that matter." I glanced at the page. "Source it from who, by the way?"

"Probably the minotaurs. The griffons make and use guns, too, but I think Macbeth has a bone to pick with them. Also, it's 'whom,' not 'who.'" Twilight shuffled the memo back into her stack of papers and thumped them on the locker to straighten them out. "The memo said 'a single pitched battle.' Does that sound hypothetical to you?"

"You're asking me for a semantic analysis?" I laughed, and even Twilight looked amused. "It doesn't, no. You'd think they'd be referring to hitting Ponyville, but it's dated to last week. Trenton said they weren't planning to move against Ponyville until last night, when we forced their hand."

Twilight stroked her chin with a well-polished hoof. "My thoughts exactly. But that attack can't possibly take place in a vacuum. It'd have to be be one part of a larger campaign, yet it sounds like they don't have the resources for a full-scale war."

"They sure don't have the manpower," I added. "And even if they did, the logistical infrastructure they'd need to support a protracted conflict isn't there. Any hope of resupply is on the other side of the portal."

"Well and truly out of reach – otherwise, their quartermaster wouldn't have suggested buying ammunition locally." Twilight gnawed at a recently trimmed fetlock, speaking through clenched teeth. "So if you don't want to fight a war of attrition – if you can't afford to – you try and put an end to things quickly. And the best way to do that..."

Her eyes widened, and she spat her hoof out of her mouth. "Oh, buck me to the moon and let me play among the stars."

I blinked. "Did you seriously just say—"

"Snake, I'm trying to deduce out loud; could you please not?" Twilight stepped into the center of the room and began to pace, along a conspicuously well-worn circular path. "Pegasus Wings has the firepower to win a single battle, but not the resources for a war; they certainly can't invade all of Equestria. But with the element of surprise behind them, they might be able to capture and hold a city, if they move quickly enough. And not a backwater village, like Ponyville, but a strategically significant target. Like, for instance... Canterlot."

There was a fortress I'd seen off in the distance, perched high up on a mountainside. If that wasn't Canterlot, I don't know what the hell could've been. "You think they'll go for a decapitation strike on your government? I guess that's an efficient use of limited resources. Makes a hell of a show of force, too."

        "Yeah, that's putting it mildly," said Twilight. "It's an example to anyone thinking of leading a counterattack. Not that Pegasus Wings would have much hope of fending one off, with most of their ammunition wasted, but the demonstration would be effective enough that nopony would dare risk it."

        The logic certainly held up, though I didn't know who would possibly be in a position to lead a counterattack. Killjoy, perhaps. "I suppose that's where Metal Gear comes in. An added deterrent, in case someone does decide to risk it.

        Twilight paused in her pacing. "Trenton said that it wasn't operational, though, didn't he?"

        "And he made a good case for it. That doesn't make it true," I said. "Even if he wasn't lying, there's no guarantee that Pegasus Wings couldn't repair its technical shortcomings."

        Twilight's head canted as she mulled that. "Okay, granted. But the doomsday weapon works better as a deterrent than as an opening salvo. Macbeth wants to depose the Princesses, and rule through Cadance as her regent. That tells me he needs the government's infrastructure intact in order to rule – the government apparatus, if not the ponies in charge of it. Destroying the nerve center of the country wouldn't help him rule. If anything, it would impede him."

        I glanced at the locker nervously as the wheels in my head spun. "That information came from Trenton, too. You know he's not on our side, no matter what happened in Dodge, right?"

        "Yeah, thanks; I'm not stupid, Snake. But he's clearly not playing the same game as Cain and Macbeth." Twilight nodded at the locker, and the documents spread across its surface. "You know that at least as well as I do – even better, I'm sure."

        "Which is exactly why I bring it up." I glanced at Cherry; the mare was observing our conversation with the same furtive curiosity that she'd watched me with before. "It's not just about the intel being reliable or not. It's about the conclusions we draw from it. What isn't here matters just as much as what is."

        Twilight's face turned quizzical. "What are you saying?"

        "Trenton's been trying to fit you and I and the others into his 'mission parameters' since we all met in the Everfree Forest. Feeding us this intel, creating a context for us to operate in – that's right out of the Patriots' playbook. He wants us to play a specific role in his scenario. These documents?" I tapped the file folder twice. "They're notes for us to follow."

        Twilight's brow furrowed as she considered the implications. "That might be true. But even if it is, the facts support our interpretation so far. We did blow their cover last night. That's not something they can overlook – they're going to come after us. We can't afford to second-guess ourselves."

        I growled, frustrated at being boxed in, but begrudgingly nodded.

        Then Twilight rubbed the base of her horn with a groan. "Of course, that won't stop me from stressing out over it, now that you've told me. I almost wish you hadn't said anything."

        "Yeah. Well. I almost wish I'd gone back home for dinner instead of walking through that damn portal." My stomach rumbled, and I started wondering where all that fruit Applejack brought got off to. "The head games and the counterintelligence crap – you get used to it, after a while. I'm not sure if that helps."

        "It doesn't. Not in the slightest." Twilight smiled up at me. "But at least you're trying to be empathetic."

        The door chose that moment to swing open with a blue shimmer. Rarity stepped through it, balancing a long, narrow cardboard box and a thick red book on her back.

Twilight's ears perked at the sight of her. "Hey, fancy seeing you here. We were just..."

        Rarity stepped aside to allow Applejack entrance, and Twilight's smile faded.

        "...Just, um..." She coughed and looked away. "What... what brings you two over? I didn't think we'd see you until the meeting."

        "Well, Twilight, we've been without your august presence for much of the day. Can you blame us for wanting to bask in it?" Rarity floated her box onto a nearby book pile, and beamed at Cherry Jubilee, who looked blankly back at her.

         "That," Applejack added, "an' we got a li'l bit of unfinished business we wanted to wrap up, 'fore the meetin'. I saw Rainbow off to the hospital, 'fore you ask. Figure they'll be finishin' up any minute." She chuckled weakly. "You're both lookin' good. Better'n me, anyhow."

        What I assumed was humorous self-deprecation was actually right on the money. Applejack didn't look like death on four legs anymore, but the exhaustion was still evident in the way she carried herself – like she was supporting some invisible weight that bent her knees and made her legs quake. The bandages on her back had been changed, and the smell of ointment hung around her like a cloud of sickly perfume.

        ...And it hung around Rarity, too, I noticed. I wondered if that meant she'd been helping Applejack with her bandages. They did arrive together, after all. Conspicuously so.

Twilight looked perplexed as she glanced between the different piles of books. "Unfinished... wait, did the two of you...?"

"Conduct a thorough and exhaustive research project, and tidy your own mess as well?" Rarity batted her eyelashes. "Well, yes, but the latter was just a side project during the former. We found the library in a state of chaos, and, well – we couldn't just leave it that way, could we? Especially since somepony left certain, shall we say... objects of utmost privacy laying about in the open."

Objects of utmost...?

"Twilight, at what point did you decide that you absolutely needed a gilded unicorn horn?"

Ah. Of course.

Twilight seemed to reach the same conclusion as me, because her face lit up, and she stammered out a denial. "Rarity, if you're talking about what I think you're talking about, then that isn't a—"

"Ah-bup-bup!" Rarity darted toward Twilight and placed a hoof over her lips. "Darling, while owning something like that is nothing to be embarrassed about, and I would never shame you for it, such things are to be kept... discreet. Not left about in the open where anypony can see them. I mean, my sister uses this library—"

"Rarity?" I called, raising my voice to be heard over Applejack's badly stifled snickering. "Any more blood rushes to Twilight's face, she'll probably pass out."

Seriously, she didn't even blush that hard when Killjoy kissed her...

Rarity lowered her hoof from a fuming Twilight. "At least the color suits you?" she said weakly.

Twilight responded with a rosy-cheeked glare.

Applejack cleared her throat. "Hokay, someone's gotta get this train rollin' – guess it's gotta be me. So Rarity had this idea earlier, that she was tellin' me about over coffee..."

Rarity straightened. "Ah, yes! As I told Applejack, I was pondering matters in the shower – you know, as one does. Specifically, the events of last night, and our conversation with that dreadfully pretentious Macbeth fellow. And it struck me that a pony of his appearance, bearing, and general state of mind should probably not be counted on as a trustworthy source of information. I mean, an unwashed vagrant, yammering about being a high-ranking member of the civil authority three decades ago? You can find one of those on every streetcorner in Manehattan."

"How would you even know that, sugarcube?" Applejack teased, elbowing Rarity. "Spend a lotta time on Manehattan streetcorners?"

"I shan't dignify such vulgarity with a response. We are trying to lessen the crudity in this library, Applejack, not worsen it. Though I suppose I did set the precedent." Rarity sniffed and tossed her head, her curly mane bouncing with the motion. "Anyway, Applejack and I came down to the library on a mission to verify his claims."

Twilight looked my way briefly – neither of us had thought to do that. We'd focused our reading primarily on the portals, among other things on her part.

"And did you?" Twilight said to Rarity. "Verify his claims, that is."

"Well... no. Not remotely." A book in a pile beside Cherry Jubilee dislodged itself, sending the rest of the stack toppling down. Cherry yelped and scrambled away, drawing closer to Twilight.

The book floated toward Twilight's face and flipped open. "Applejack and I poured over records regarding the pre-Pax military, and the government ministries of that era," said Rarity. "We found no mention of a pony named Macbeth holding any office whatsoever. The last Secretary of War, before the military was disbanded, was a stallion named Angel Hair."

I snorted, and smothered my laughter behind my hand. Twilight ignored me, and read through the book before it snapped shut in her face. She blinked, and looked up at Rarity.

"He must have been lying, then," said Twilight. "About that much, at least."

"So I assumed, too," Rarity said. "But then, Applejack had a thought, and we ran to Sweet Apple Acres—"

"You ran. I hobbled after you like a gimp," Applejack interjected wryly. She retrieved the red-bound book from the table, rocked onto her haunches, and flipped it open with her forelegs.

"A photo album?" I said. Faded pictures, black and white and sepia and washed-out kodachrome – or its Equestrian equivalent – flew past as Applejack sought a particular page. "Why would that matter?"

"Because the Apple family memory goes all the way back to Ponyville's foundin'," said Applejack as she pulled a picture from its sleeve with her teeth. "My Granny Smith was one of the first ponies to settle here. Five years on, they held a rodeo to celebrate. Look who was there."

Twilight's magic took the photograph from Applejack, and it hung in the air as she inspected it. Curious, I stepped over to get a look at it, too.

A trio of sepia-toned ponies crowded in front of a crate of apples, full to the point of spilling over. The grinning pony in the middle with the short-cropped mane resembled Applejack, right down to the hairstyle. I took that to be her grandmother. Seated to her left was another mare, who looked to be about the same age, smiling uncomfortably as Applejack's grandmother hugged her close and squashed their cheeks together.

On her other side was another pony, male, but smaller than the other two – younger, I supposed. His unkempt hair and arrogant sneer made him look like a cocky, insufferable bastard.

I had a feeling of where she was going with this...

"Auntie?" said Cherry suddenly, leaning past Twilight to get a better look. "Auntie Hickory?"

Applejack looked at her, startled. "Yeah, that's right. Hickory Switch. Friend o'Granny's, from a long time ago. Y'all related?"

Cherry stared at the photograph in silence. Applejack's question hadn't even registered.

After a few minutes of awkward waiting, Applejack coughed. "Well, that's interestin', but not really what I wanted to show y'all. Flip it over, Twi."

Twilight did, to reveal a trio of signatures.

Smith Apple and Hickory Switch were written at the top in surprisingly neat cursive. At the bottom, in messy block letters, was the name Angel Hair.

"Celestia," Twilight breathed. She flipped the photo back over, staring at it. "Angel Hair, indeed. That's Macbeth."

"You sure?" I said.

She looked sidelong at me. "Trust me, I got a pretty good look at his face when he shoved it against mine and stabbed himself on my horn."

I thought about the unwashed bum I'd seen accompanying Cain, with the natty facial hair and the crazed look in his eye... Maybe Twilight should've washed a day earlier than she did. Who knew what infested that beard?

Applejack plucked the photo from the air and tucked it gently back inside the album. "So, yeah – crazy jackwagon or no, looks like our boy Macbeth weren't lyin' about runnin' the war department. Guess he changed his name after leavin', though – maybe thinkin' that 'Angel Hair' weren't a good name fer a rebel."

"Guess I should've figured that from the start," Twilight mused. "Though a name like 'Macbeth...' I can't make heads or tails as to why he'd choose something so..."

"Pretentious?" I offered.

"Meaningless," Twilight corrected. "Maybe he thought it up, decided it sounded cool?"

A chill ran through me. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe."

Twilight kept her eyes on the album for a moment longer, her lips pursed in thought. "As much as I would enjoy pursuing this further, we have a meeting to attend. Applejack, Rarity – thank you, both of you."

"Shucks, Twi," Applejack chuckled. "T'weren't nothin'. Heck, if you want, we can come by when all this is done, help you reshelf all them books."

"What?! No!" Twilight looked at Applejack – avoiding her eyes, but still, looking at her – in alarm. "No, that won't be necessary. I can handle it. Promise."

We were all staring at her – even Cherry – surprised by her overreaction.

"I was just... looking forward to doing it myself, that's all." Twilight pawed at the floor. "It's relaxing."

I exchanged a smirk with Applejack.

"Everypony needs a hobby, okay?!" Twilight, flushed, stomped out of the library. "Let's just get to the stupid meeting, already."

Ponyville had changed in the time since we'd left. Sandbag barriers, manned by sentries with flashlights, farming implements, and other makeshift weapons, blocked off alleyways and boulevards. They nodded politely at Twilight and the girls, but afforded no such courtesy to me. More ponies patrolled the town, drifting like colorful shadows in the fog all around us.

They kept their distance. I understood why, of course. Twilight and her friends may have accepted me, but their neighbors weren't about to give me that chance. Given the reason behind this town hall meeting, it's not like I could blame them.

Applejack and Rarity walked ahead of us, conversing softly. They didn't move very quickly, but Twilight wanted some space, and so they gave us space. Cherry Jubilee stuck close to Twilight – a packed town hall may not have been the best environment for her, but neither of us wanted to leave her alone, especially not under the same roof as her shotgun. I saw how she looked at it in Dodge; I knew her scars ran deep. Leaving her alone with it, for any length of time...

Shooting the lock off of the box was a mistake, in hindsight. I made a mental note to store it somewhere more secure, as soon as I was able.

As we walked, my thoughts turned to Macbeth. For the first time since hearing his name out loud, I found myself struck by its significance. I'm no literary critic, and I'm certainly no Mei-Ling, but even a rube like me knew the tragedy of the Scottish usurper, Macbeth. The feudal noble who lost himself to his own ambition, and died on the sword of the man prophesied to kill him... you show me a madman looking to depose the legitimate ruler of a sovereign nation, calling himself by that name, and it's not difficult to connect the dots.

But this was Equestria, a place which seemed to exist only to baffle and annoy me with inexplicable cultural coincidences. "Canterlot," and "Mooselini," and who knew what else. Who was I to assume that "Macbeth" didn't have some meaning intrinsic to this place, too? So I kept the parallel to myself, because why not? What made him special, or different? If I stopped to comment on every single bizarre congruence between their world and mine, there wouldn't be time to discuss anything else. Hell, the fact that we could even communicate didn't make a whole lot of sense.

Then Twilight dismissed the name as a cool-sounding alias. And then, I started thinking.

I started thinking about the odds that a revolutionary would come up with that name, independently, and purely by coincidence. I started thinking, what were the odds that there was a similarly titled play, with a similar premise, about a similar character, which none of my new friends knew about – which Twilight, bookworm extraordinaire, who lived in a library, didn't know about?

And when I dismissed those possibilities as ludicrous, and concluded that "Angel Hair's" alias was chosen because of its significance... I started thinking about the implications. Twilight knew him as Macbeth from his revolt, five years before, so he'd had the name for at least that long. He had to have gotten it from somewhere.

It might not have been not Trenton, or Cain, but someone had already brought our worlds into contact. That's the only way "Angel Hair" could've gotten his alias. Maybe our Lord of the Flies was to blame for that. Two English literary references within as many days... what were the odds that was coincidental?

A hip-check from Twilight got my attention. "You're awfully quiet. Lost in thought?"

"Why not?" I said. "Plenty to think about."

"True, but visibility isn't great right now. Unless you want to introduce your face to the ground, you should probably at least keep your eyes up." Twilight winked. "What's up?"

Despite her teasing, Twilight seemed pensive, too. Maybe even worried. I remembered just how badly she was trying to hold herself together, to portray stability and courage to her friends. Maybe getting Rainbow Dash back had helped her regain her confidence and optimism, but she was still fragile. I couldn't share this with her – not yet, anyway. It would be yet another conundrum for her to unravel, and she already had the weight of the world on her back.

When everything was over – if we both survived – I'd tell her. When she'd had a chance to relax, and clear her mind. Not an instant before.

"Just trying to figure out how this town hall business is gonna go," I said. "What we should expect."

"Well, considering we'll be apprising the entire town of an impending, existential threat that they've all been secretly preparing for..." Twilight grinned lopsidedly. "I'm expecting hysteria, but short-lived hysteria. Once it subsides, I'm going to call for a vote."

"A vote?"

"Like I said before, Equestria has no military – that's by law. But local townships can organize their own militias in times of crisis. It has to be done by majority vote, however."

We climbed past another sandbag barrier. This one was manned by a steely-eyed black stallion, armed with a woodcutter's axe, whose silver mane and mustache reminded me uncannily of Revolver Ocelot. He had a crinkly-eyed smile for Applejack, and exchanged pleasantries with Twilight, but his hooves tightened around the axe's shaft when he glanced my way.

Twilight picked up her earlier train of thought, having apparently noticed nothing from Ocelot Pony. "Anyway, I'm assuming we'll have a quorum at the meeting, even with so many ponies out guarding the town. Or foalsitting; there'll probably be some foal-related absences. But barring complications, or good old fashioned voter apathy, I think we can put the militia to a vote."

"Sounds good," I muttered, glancing back to glare at Ocelot Pony, whose glare still followed me through the haze.

Feeling's mutual, pal.

"The trouble is, with measures in place to evacuate and defend the town, everypony will be split between those two," Twilight said, drawing my focus back to her. "Most ponies' first choice would probably be to avoid a fight, and that's probably what the Mayor will push for, too. There are ponies who'd be willing to stay and fight, granted, but I don't know if there'll be enough."

To win the vote? Or to hold the town against attack? Twilight didn't specify, and I didn't ask. I suspected both could serve as answers.

Instead, I said, "Do you have a preference?"

"I'm the one calling for the militia." Twilight smiled, though her eyes looked immeasurably sad. "You?"

I chewed my lip. "All things being equal, I'd prefer to take the fight to them – infiltrate their base and sabotage their vehicles, or ambush them on the road and take 'em out with guerrilla tactics. But I don't think either of those are on the table."

Twilight chuckled humorlessly. "You're doing a good job of making what options we do have seem utterly unappealing."

"I don't mean to. Just saying, this isn't how I'd do things normally." I reached out to draw her to a stop, causing Cherry to nearly walk into her backside. "But we're in this together. You want to mount a defense, I'll help you get it right. You want to evacuate, and I'll see you on your way."

Applejack and Rarity paused in their stride, looking back at us – Twilight hurriedly waved them on. "And then what'll you do?" she said, when the others were gone.

I shrugged. "Go back out to the field, I suppose. Head through the Everfree, try and bypass the castle, and make my way out to Metal Gear on my own." With their forces spread between Ponyville and Canterlot, that'd leave Metal Gear open and vulnerable to some kind of sabotage – there'd be no better time than that.

Twilight shook her head and patted me on the knee. "You should know by now that you're not on your own. Whatever happens, we're in this together. All of us."

We resumed walking, and arrived at town hall not long after. The building loomed like a giant lantern, with yellow lights strung along its balconies and flickering in its windows. The Humvee was parked not far from the building; a few ponies milled about the vehicle, their low voices audible in the wet stillness of the night. More were emerging from the town proper, filing inside the hall.

Applejack and Rarity were waiting for us at the entrance, still looking concerned. Twilight quickly assured them that everything was fine, and urged them inside. Applejack went in first.

But Rarity paused, and looked back at me. "It slipped my mind earlier, but that box in the library? That's for you, Snake."

I blinked, momentarily excited at the prospect of a new box, before remembering its small size – it clearly wouldn't work as a tool of stealth. "What is it?"

"A token of appreciation for all of your help. And... an apology. For how I spoke to you last night." She toyed with the curly spring of hair dangling off her neck. "Also, for good measure... I just wanted to thank you, personally, for helping our Rainbow Dash home. Come what may, you'll never leave my good graces."

With one last beatific smile, Rarity sauntered into the building, leaving Twilight, Cherry, and I behind.

"Bet there's something good inside that box," Twilight said knowingly. "Hey, stay out here while I nip in and check out the crowd, okay? C'mon, Cherry."

She followed after Rarity before I could protest being left alone, Cherry clinging to her heels like the lost soul she was. I watched them go, then sighed in exasperation and turned around.

A clump of ponies, several feet away, stared warily at me, refusing to walk past me to get inside. For a few, long seconds, I just stared right back at them, wondering if attending this meeting was a bad decision on my part.

"Snake! Hey, Snake!"

Apple Bloom rescued the skittish ponies from their uninvited staring contest, bounding out of the fog toward me, the ribbon in her mane flapping behind her like a butterfly's wings.

Hell, that would put a smile on anyone's face.

I vacated the doorway to greet Apple Bloom, the crowd of ponies shuffling inside. The filly eventually skidded to a stop at my feet and sat down, her tail swishing in the dirt. A few ponies from the crowd stopped short of entering the building, and watched disapprovingly as Apple Bloom and I caught up.

"What'cha been up to today?" Apple Bloom said, heedless of the crowd. "Makin' friends, or makin' trouble?"

"Little of both. Emphasis on the trouble, though. A little arson, some vandalism. But it wasn't all fun and games." I lifted my bandaged forearm.

"Whoa..." Apple Bloom's eyes bugged out. "What happened?"

"Got bit. By, uh... a zombie. A zombie pony."

"C'mon, Snake. Zombies ain't real," Apple Bloom said in a lecturing tone. Then, biting her lip, she said, "Can I...? I mean, d'you mind if I...?"

Silently, I unwrapped the bandage, just enough to expose the bite.

"Oh, gross!" Apple Bloom laughed, her grin widening at the sight of Jinglebell's threadwork. "That is the coolest thing ever! Gawsh, I wish Scoots an' Sweetie could see this..."

Sometimes, I am good with kids.

"It's awfully late for you to be up and about," I said, as I rewound the bandage. "You're not running away again, are you?"

"Har har," Apple Bloom drawled, rolling her eyes. "Naw, I'm here on account'a Applejack. She said there was some big meetin' goin' on, about the bad guys in the woods. Asked me if I could talk about... about what happened yesterday."

A slight shudder rippled through her, and I found myself questioning the wisdom of Applejack's request. True, Apple Bloom had a unique perspective to offer on the Pegasus Wings situation. But she was also a child who underwent a traumatic experience, and I wasn't sure that sharing it with the whole town would be therapeutic for her.

I knelt in front of Apple Bloom and lowered my voice. "What happened to you out there was rough. You gonna be okay with reliving it?"

Apple Bloom's bangs shadowed her face as she dipped her head. "'Member that stuff you said, Snake? About livin' a life worth savin'?"

My nod seemed to encourage her; she drew herself up and spoke more firmly. "Way I see it, this is how I can do that. I ain't no hero, like you an' the girls, an' I can't do nothin' t'save Ponyville if the bad guys come for us."

A flush crept up my neck. "I'm really not a—"

"But I can do this. Y'know? For Spike, an'... an' anyone else who gets hurt 'fore this is over." She reared up slightly and rested her hooves on my upturned knee. There was a childish innocence in her eyes, part of her unmarred by the previous night's horrors. "An' don't you say you ain't no hero, Snake. You are to me, as much as AJ."

Well, if that didn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy...

Then the moment was killed by a voice like a rusty wheelbarrow screeching from across the plaza. "Lemme at 'im! Lemme at 'im! Where's that scum-suckin', good-fer-nothin', son of a diamond dog?!"

An elderly green mare hobbled toward me with shocking speed... if not grace. She was trailed by Applejack's brother, who watched the scene unfold with the largest, most passive-aggressive smirk I'd ever seen on an equine face. Apple Bloom, my one and only advocate, hastily wheeled around to hold her back before she could come within striking distance.

"Granny, no! He helped save me, 'member? He's one o'the good guys!"

"Yeah?" The old mare spat out the side of her mouth. "Well, he still put the whammy on m'boy, sugarcube, an' there's gotta be a reckonin' fer that. Been waitin' all day to look him in the eye an' give him a piece of my mind"

Apple Bloom's grandmother stuck her neck out. To my bafflement, and mild disgust, the layers of loose, wrinkly skin along her neck stretched like rubber, until she and I were nearly nose to nose. The stench of liniment and old lady breath was almost too much for me.

We stayed like that, watched by a crowd of lookie-loos, until a low hiss escaped her lips, her breath making my eyes water. "Sweet biscuits an' gravy, yer an ugly one."

Wow. The damage to my olfactory senses was nothing compared to the blow she dealt my poor ego.

Applejack and Twilight scampered to my side... or Twilight scampered; Applejack staggered rapidly. The former took Granny by the shoulder and guided her toward the town hall. Apple Bloom gave me an apologetic look before following after them.

Big McIntosh just chuckled darkly.

"That was uncalled for," Twilight said, scowling at Granny's back as the Apple family retreated. "Sorry you had to deal with it."

"Forget it," I muttered, rising and brushing dirt from my knees. "I did shoot her grandson; I suppose I deserve a little tongue-lashing over that."

"Hmm. Well, you got off easy. If Granny thought to bring her walker, we'd probably need to drag you to the hospital all over again. She can do some real damage with that." Twilight tugged my sleeve telekinetically, and started back to the building. "Anyway, it looks like everything's all set up. We're still waiting on a few stragglers to start the meeting, but..."

"Yeah, about that," I said, pulling my hand back until Twilight's grip loosened. The crowd that had gathered to watch the Apples and I had dispersed by then, but I still felt their gazes crawling all over me. "I think it's better for everyone if I sit this one out."

Twilight balked. "Why? You scared of public speaking, or something?"

"Scared? No." Although it was far from my favorite thing in the world...

"Then what's the problem?" Twilight sounded testy, but there was a familiar undercurrent of concern in her words.

I sighed. "Applejack's grandmother isn't the only one here who seems to have a problem with me. You must've noticed how your neighbors look at me. At best, I'm a curiosity; at worst, a freak. "

"That... yeah, granted," Twilight said abashedly. "But that's their problem, Snake, and it's one they have to get over. They need see you, to know you're on their side. Having you on stage, hearing you talk—"

"They need to see you, Twilight. You're the brains of this outfit. You're the hero here." That was not a role I could fill, no matter what Apple Bloom said. "I told you before that I'm with you on this, and I meant that. But until the fighting actually starts, you want me in the background, out of sight and mind. Not out in the open."

Twilight shook her head. "You know their capabilities better than anyone else," she said, desperately trying to find a good angle. "Guns and tanks, flying machines, doomsday weapons..."

"You have those too, don't you?" I interrupted gently. "Guns and tanks, anyway. And you've seen their arsenal in action. There's not a whole lot that I could tell them that you couldn't, and it's all stuff they can conceptualize. You and your friends got the gist of it without much effort on my part. Hell, so did Zecora."

Twilight sputtered and stammered in search of a rebuttal; finding none, she just slumped, as if the defeat weighed physically upon her. "What'll you do in the meantime?"

I shrugged. "Well, I'm at least as overdue for a wash as you were, so..."

She snickered, the sound netting a half-smile out of me.

"I'll be fine," I insisted, less facetiously. "Come back when it's all finished, let me know how it went, and we'll go from there. Alright?"

"...Alright," said Twilight, at length, reluctantly. With a parting smile, she headed inside the town hall.

It was for the best. Twilight and her friends may have accepted me, may have even liked me. I'd never admit it to them, but the feeling was more than mutual. Barring the occasional, helpful townspony, though, I doubted the rest of them would ever share in the sentiment. They didn't need to see more of me than they already had.

Plus – and mind you, this was not my primary motivation – with Twilight gone, I could smoke on my way back to the library.

Town hall was filled to capacity with ponies. Even the many gallery seats were occupied out of a pressing need for every last inch of real estate, forcing many pegasi to hover above the crowd.

Twilight sat on a stage set up at the far end of the room, alongside her friends. Apple Bloom leaned into Applejack's chest, with the elder Apple's forelegs crossed protectively over her. The others chatted quietly, catching one another up on current events, all while trying desperately not to stare at Rainbow Dash's now-prominent facial scars.

The doctor's hornwork had revitalized Rainbow, repairing the fractures in her leg and her wing. Neither worked at a hundred percent, not yet, but that was to be expected. She wouldn't be pulling any rainbooms in the near future, but she could walk, and she could fly, and that was enough for now. But the scars on her face didn't fade so easily. They weren't so bad on the right side, just three thin lines from the corner of her eye to her jawline. Those gave her a sort of rakish charm, and complimented her natural good looks, in Twilight's opinion, anyway. The one on her left side was just ugly, though – a thick, fat worm with a faint curve, just below her cheek bone.

But Rainbow Dash took it all in good humor – scars were sexy, she said, and they made her look badass. And when Applejack gently cuffed her ear, for swearing in front of Apple Bloom, she took that in stride as well, as her friends joined her in laughing.

But Twilight didn't. The normality of the scene was fleeting, illusory. One glance at Rainbow's scars, or Applejack's bandages, gave it away. She just watched them laugh, smiling, the taste of ashes in her mouth.

The conversations in the room ebbed to a low hum when Mayor Mare took up the podium and spoke. "Welcome, everypony, and thank you for coming out here. I know it's late, and short notice, but we have a very important matter to discuss. No doubt you're all aware of the town's renewed disaster-preparedness campaign; no doubt most of you have participated in it. I'm sure you are all curious as to why."

She paused, a flicker of uncertainty in her eye.

"Twilight Sparkle, if you would be so kind as to explain?"

Twilight looked back at her friends, and their encouraging expressions buoyed her as she trotted to the podium. Mayor Mare stepped away, and Twilight took her place, adjusting the microphone and leaning into it.

"Thank you, Mayor Mare." Twilight lingered on the sight of Cherry Jubilee, seated with the Apples in the front row, before sweeping over the hundreds of other ponies staring back at her

Best keep this succinct.

"Over the last two days, my friends and I have uncovered a plot by a former government official to overthrow Princess Celestia, with the support of a mercenary company calling itself 'Pegasus Wings.' Despite the name, they're actually from a race called 'humans,' and they're armed with weapons and technology far beyond our own. So far, we've managed to stall their efforts, with the help of another human. You may have seen us with him – his name is Solid Snake, and—"

Someone in the audience snickered obnoxiously.

Twilight scowled. "Anyway – also, whoever that was, grow up – you might've also heard about things going awry, in or around town, lately. The fire at the mountain junction, flight restrictions imposed without explanation, problems with our telegraph lines – we think these are all in preparation for a retaliatory attack against Ponyville. Our lines of communication with Canterlot are cut, meaning we can't call for help, and even if we could, it's probable that they'd be dealing with an attack of their own, and couldn't spare reinforcements."

Twilight paused for effect, and for breath, drinking in the sight of so many wide eyes and blanched faces.

She attempted to smile. "Questions so far?"

That was when the expected hysteria began. Shouts and cries and noisy stomping filled the room as hundreds of ponies jockeyed to be heard over one another. Twilight's horn flashed, and a thunderclap silenced everypony present.

"One at a time, please?" she said sweetly. "Yes, Mr. Softshoe?"

An elderly stallion, bald and bearded, waved his cane above his head. "That queer feller, the one who rolled up wit'choo in the whatchamacallitmobile – he's one of them evil hew-mons, right? With the Pegasus Wings?"

Twilight's eye twitched. "He's of the same race, yes. But he's not a member of Pegasus Wings."

"Sure about that?" Softshoe jabbed his cane at Twilight. "You real sure he's on the up-and-up? I mean, he ain't even bothered to show up to account for himself; he sent you out to speak for him. How d'you know you he ain't just playing you?"

"I assure you that Snake is on our side." Twilight's voice strained, as did her patience – this was precisely why she wanted Snake there, to speak for himself! "He has a vested interest in stopping Pegasus Wings, and he's saved my life more than once."

"Mine too!" Apple Bloom chirped. Twilight glanced back to see Applejack give the filly an affectionate noogie.

Softshoe looked grouchily at Apple Bloom and grunted. "All the same, I think it's for the best if we don't give him free reign of the town. Maybe we should lock him up, or put him in chains an' watch him. We can march him with us when we evacuate, keep an eye on him that way. I ain't alone in thinkin' that, am I?"

He wasn't. Ponies nodded, and rumbled their agreement, and Softshoe looked smug and satisfied as he returned to his seat.

The Mayor put an end to the rumbling by coming to the podium and leaning into the microphone. "Let's not lose sight of why we're here, everypony. Twilight has assured me that our... visitor... is an asset, not a liability. I admit, I'm not entirely comfortable with him either, but I trust her judgment. We're not here to cast suspicion on anyone; we're here to brief you, and decide upon a course of action together."

"Mayor Mare is right," said Twilight. She tried to give a grateful smile to the Mayor, but the older mare's face remained all-business.

Time enough for that later.

"Getting back on topic," Twilight continued. "I notice that the town has been partially fortified, that an evacuation plan is in place, and that defensive measures are already being prepared. However, nopony has spoken to me of any organized militia, so... am I correct in assuming that there hasn't been any effort at forming one?"

No one responded.

As I thought. Her stomach knotted. Softshoe had spoken of an evacuation as a given, and nopony had contradicted him. This would be a harder sell than she thought.

"Then, per the terms of the Pax Equestria, I motion that the Ponyville municipal government authorize the creation of a local militia, to defend the town from incursion."

Mayor Mare's eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed, as the room broke again into shouting.

"Second! Second! I second the motion, dagnabbit!" Granny Smith's voice carried over the others as her hoof smacked noisily against the floor, silencing everypony else. "I done lived in this town since I were barely more'n a yearling, an' I'll be cored 'n quartered 'fore I let sum bunch'a crazy gorillas chase me out!"

"Oh, sure, send Granny Smith Apple off to war; that'll send 'em runnin'!" the elderly Softshoe snapped back. "You gonna stand on yer porch an' rattle yer dentures at 'em, y'old fruit bat?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, you yellow-bellied ol' codger!" Granny fired back, turning to shout at him over the crowd. "You ain't too old fer me t'hike up yer tail an' lay a tannin' on them bony cheeks o'yers! I'll whip 'em 'til they're a-glowin' red hot, an' hoist you up a flagpole hind-first!"

Apple Bloom laughed at her grandmother's vitriol.

Softshoe flushed; his retort was swallowed in a chorus of yells. Twilight glanced back at her friends, all of whom looked as lost and helpless as she felt.

"The record will show – the record will show!" Mayor Mare called, repeating herself in a shout. She continued more evenly once the arguments had died down. "The record will show that Twilight Sparkle petitioned to form a militia, as is her right. However, I'd be remiss in not pointing out that our evacuation plan, which Amethyst Star and I developed ourselves, remains a viable alternative."

Twilight could see the effect that the Mayor's words were having on the crowd, canceling out Granny Smith's earnest enthusiasm. Ponies muttered and nodded their agreement, turning to converse among one another.

Bushy-maned Golden Harvest stepped out of the front row and looked up at the podium. "Miss Twilight, I just – I'm sorry, but I'm thinkin' a militia ain't the way to go. We ain't soldiers; we don't got no way to fight off no invasion. What if we try gettin' somepony who can? Maybe we can't send a telegram to Canterlot, but... can't we just walk there, or take that wheelie machine you showed up in?"

"The 'wheelie machine' doesn't have the fuel for a trip like that," said Twilight, relieved at the relatively reasonable question. "And the trip is prohibitively long, on hoof, in the timeframe we're working with. Besides, to do so would tip our cards to the enemy – there's reason to suspect they might be watching us."

Or that someone in town is funneling information to them.

Trenton's deliberate vagueness on that point left her feeling uncertain. She didn't want to reach the point where she started suspecting friends and neighbors, and she didn't want to turn the town on one another based only on suspicion and innuendo. Still, she kept searching the faces in the crowd for some subtle indicator that all was not well...

"But that's all the more reason to evacuate, Twilight," another voice pressed – a pegasus pony with a two-toned, pink and green mane, styled almost identically to Twilight's. "I mean, we did a good job whipping up that cloud cover, but if the bad guys were already watching Ponyville, spying on us? That might not do us as much good as we thought."

Mayor Mare made a sound in the back of her throat. "That's a valid point, Blossomforth. As innovative as the fog bank was, it's not impossible that the enemy could bypass it and report on our defensive strategies."

More nodding heads and resolved expressions. Twilight began to sweat.

"Mayor Mare? Twilight?" This voice belonged to Bon Bon, on the far left of the room. "If I may?"

Twilight met her eyes and nodded.

Bon Bon looked out at the sea of faces. "There is zero guarantee that any invading army wouldn't pursue us if we evacuated the town. And if there are scouts or spies watching us, then they'd be able to report our movements and our numbers as we do. We'd just be delaying an inevitable confrontation, one we'd be even less prepared for. An evacuation would make a militia more necessary, not less, because we'd need a rearguard to cover the rest of the town's retreat."

"She has a point!" Amethyst Star, on the other side of the room, poked her head out from the crowd. "We developed the evacuation plan assuming there'd be some kind of organized resistance, Ms. Mayor."

Twilight seized on their idea and clutched it like a lifeline. "I think what they're saying – thank you, ladies – is that forming a militia and evacuating the town aren't mutually exclusive options. The question is, can we field an effective enough militia to successfully defend the town and cover the evacuation?"

"Talk of a militia is premature; we still need to put it to a vote," Mayor Mare interjected, sliding up to the podium. She covered the microphone with her hoof, and spoke to Twilight in a low voice.

"If you have a case to make for this, then make it now."

Yet again, the room went dead silent. All eyes were on Twilight now. She girded herself, wondering how she could reconcile arguing in favor of a militia, and a battle, whose mere thought made her feel ill.

None of them want it either. We're united on that much, at least. Speak from the heart, Twily.

"I know it sounds... daunting. I know it sounds scary. I understand how you all feel, because I feel the same way at the mere thought of fighting. I don't want a militia; I don't want to fight a war. I want things to be how they were, before any of this ever happened." She paused, biting her lip. "But the stakes are too high for us to just turn and run away. The Ponyville, the Equestria, that we all know and love – that's what we stand to lose through inaction."

The other townsponies, her friends and her neighbors, exchanged looks of uncertainty with one another. Softshoe's face just turned sourer and sourer.

"If we vote to form a militia, then it'll be volunteer only," Twilight went on. "Nopony will think less of you if you choose not to stay and fight. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you. But I promise you this: whether alone, or with you all at my back, I'll stand and fight for Equestria."

A hoof rested on her back; she turned to see Rainbow, with an uncharacteristically gentle look on her face. The others lined up on either side of Twilight, who felt warmth stir within her chest.

Of course. I won't be alone.

"Hey, Twilight," said an uncannily familiar unicorn, with a white coat and pink mane. "If we're really gonna vote on this, then... maybe we ought to know a little bit more about what's going on than what you've given us. Some more specifics about what you've been dealing with. That's a reasonable request, right?"

"I think it is," said Twilight. She exhaled slowly.

"Alright, then. From the top."

Squeezing into a bathtub made for a quadruped less than half my size was a struggle, and washing myself with Twilight's products, a harrowing ordeal. I had no idea if they were safe for human use; for all I knew, there were chemicals in her shampoo that'd make me go bald, or something. But climbing out of the bathtub to look at myself at the mirror, and really studying my reflection, for the first time in what felt like decades? That was a kick in the old gonads.

God only knows why, but Twilight kept a razor, and a pair of shears, under her sink. I used both to clean myself up – trimming my hair, shaving days' worth of stubble off my face and neck. In the end, I looked cleaner, smoother. But there was no masking the care lines and wrinkles on my cheeks, the crows' feet in the corners of my eyes. No hiding the flecks of gray in my hair, the streaks of white in the locks carpeting the floor, the salt and pepper in Twilight's sink, and on the razor blade. I didn't feel like a man as far beyond my years as the man behind the mirror, but there was no hiding from reality, painful though it may have been.

Somewhere along the line, my reflection had become that of a stranger.

The clothes Trenton provided me with were standard issue Pegasus Wings fatigues – navy blue trousers and jacket, with a long-sleeved black undershirt, along with socks, briefs, boots, gloves, a harness, and brassards. I settled on the shirt and the pants, leaving the jacket out for the time being, and ignoring everything else besides the socks and the underwear. I had gloves and boots and a harness already, and the brassards bore the emblems of Pegasus Wings and Zanzibar Land. I refused to wear either into battle.

Twilight had come back from the meeting while I was in the bathroom. She was emerging from the stacks with a pile of rolled-up papers and scrolls balanced on her back as I descended the stairs. At the sound of creaky steps, she turned her head, and whistled in astonishment when she saw me.

"Not bad!" she said. "When you said you were gonna clean up, I wasn't expecting the change to be quite so... dramatic. But I gotta say, I like the new you."

"You were gone for a while. I had to pass the time somehow." I shrugged, taking the last two steps at once. "I moved the locker into your room, too, by the way. Best that we keep it out of sight, if Cherry's gonna keep hanging out here. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, on either count. Though I hope you at least had the decency to clean up after yourself in the bathroom." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Please tell me you cleaned up after yourself."

"I cleaned up after myself."

Twilight's lips pursed. "No, you didn't."

I smiled, wondering in the back of my mind how worn and leathery it made my face look. "How'd it go?"

Twilight looked like she wanted to give me an earful, but she managed to focus on my question. "As I thought, it came down to a vote. And, as I assumed, the vote was pretty close."

"But?"

"...The town voted to form a militia." She looked at me grimly. "We're staying, Snake. We're meeting this war head-on."

Within the hour, we transformed the library into a war room, carrying books off to the stacks to clear space for charts, chairs, and tables. Maps of the town and the countryside, as far out as Canterlot, hung from the walls, hiding the empty bookshelves. Twilight and I went back and forth between them, discussing each in turn, while she marked them up in red pen to reflect the patrols and checkpoints, and the evacuation route. In the middle of the room was a chalkboard which she used for reference purposes – every now and then, she'd dash over to it and jot down her errant thoughts, or notes about military strategy and terminology.

In the bottom-right corner were three numbered entries: Red Sun, Canterbria, and Lord of the Flies, the second underlined twice, the third underlined thrice. I felt a twist of guilt in my gut as I realized I could shed some light on one of those points for her. As with Macbeth, I'd tell her what I knew... which, granted, wasn't much... but not yet. Not when she was hanging by a thread that grew thinner and more taut with every twist this crisis took.

Ponies came and went as we worked. Twilight's friends, and others I didn't know, made sporadic appearances to report on their business in town. Rarity and Rainbow Dash were out seeking recruits for the militia. Fluttershy was seeing to her menagerie of animals, urging them to find safe haven in one of Ponyville's nearby forests. Only Applejack and Pinkie Pie, and a third mare I hadn't been formally introduced to – one of the group who'd met the Humvee – stayed for longer than a few minutes.

Applejack had come over with more fruit and a bag of coffee, and immediately sequestered herself in the kitchen to prepare something for us all. She'd brought an earth pony named Bon Bon, who'd shown some kind of strategic acumen earlier; Applejack figured that made her a good asset for the planning phase. She helped out in more ways than that, though – when Pinkie came by to report on the cannons' ammo and powder reserves, Bon Bon pulled her into a thorough discussion of her artillery qualifications. This removed the possibility that Pinkie and I would have to interact, endearing Bon Bon to me tremendously.

        I was studying a map of the Ponyville area, alone and yawning – the Mayor had swung by, and Twilight had excused herself to talk with her – when Applejack emerged from the kitchen. She balanced a platter with apple slices and some coffee cups on her head, with such poise that the idea of her dropping anything was remote and unfathomable.

Cherry Jubilee was curled up on the stairs, more furniture than pony, and Applejack stopped by her first, offering food and drink and a kind word or two. But Cherry didn't seem to notice, so Applejack left her a mug and some apples, and moved on to Pinkie and Bon Bon. Eventually, she brought what was left to me.

"Need a pick-me-up?" Applejack said.

        The scent of cinnamon wafted up from the tray, making my mouth water. I sighed, reaching for the last mug and a generous wedge of apple.

        Applejack watched me slurp and chew, chuckling. "Yeah, I had a feelin' y'all would be hungry."

        "Understatement," I said around a mouthful of fruit. Swallowing, I added, "Thank you."

"Gonna make me blush, Snake." Applejack dipped her tray like a hat, without sending all its contents spilling over the edge. "I'm just glad I could find some way to help out. All this strategizin' stuff goes over my head. Doubt I'd be much good with any of it – I ain't cut out fer maps 'n charts. Not like some ponies."

She glanced wanly at Bon Bon and Pinkie.

I frowned at her, thoughtful, from behind the rim of my coffee cup. Applejack noticed... somehow... and smiled, rolling her eyes. "Hey, I'm just sayin' it how it is. I'm still gonna be part o'this fight, helpin' out how I can. Whether that means fightin' shoulder-to-shoulder with everypony else, or jus' servin' up coffee 'n fruit, I'm yer gal."

"That's a vital service." I smirked. "I literally would not have eaten anything tonight if it weren't for you."

Applejack's smile faded as Twilight detached herself from the Mayor and trotted back over to rejoin us. "Reminds me of somepony I know," she mused quietly.

I emptied my mug, and turned to greet Twilight as she came into earshot. "Everything alright?"

"Mayor Mare just wanted a progress report. No big deal." Twilight floated a cup of coffee and the last pieces of apple from the platter, without looking at the mare who'd prepared it. "Thanks, Applejack."

Something flickered across Applejack's face for an instant, some show of emotion that didn't stick around long enough for me to parse. She simply doffed the now-empty platter, set it on the floor, and nodded.

Twilight turned to regard the map, sipping thoughtfully and taking small bites from her snack, as Bon Bon broke away from Pinkie Pie to join us.

        "After talking extensively with Pinkie," she said, "I've reached two conclusions. One: Pinkie is utterly and completely mad, and two, Pinkie really, really knows her artillery."

The pink pony grinned at us and waved. Her upper lip was stained brown from her coffee, giving her the semblance of a thin, curly mustache.

"Toldja so!" she said cheerfully. "I had to get certified to carry my party cannon, after all."

        I stared back at her. "Party... cannon?"

        "Exactly what it sounds like, bestest buddy." Pinkie lapped off her coffee mustache, pushed away from her table, and looked expectantly at Twilight. "Can I go now? I don't like leaving the Boom-Boom Brigade alone for too long – they get antsy without me."

        Twilight gave a flimsy, joyless approximation of a smile. "By all means, Pinkie."

Pinkie grinned and bounced out the door, whistling a jaunty tune. I stared, dumbfounded, after her.

        But I don't know what it sounds like, I thought. That's why I asked.

        "All that said, I'm not sold on the cannons' positioning," said Bon Bon, dropping the glasses back over her eyes and looking at Applejack. "Or, rather, their proximity to the Sweet Apple Acres shelter. If the enemy has any brains whatsoever, then they'll make taking out our artillery a priority. That puts the farm, the apple cellar, and anypony inside, in harm's way."

        Applejack rubbed the back of her mane sheepishly, her cheeks reddening. "Guess I didn't think o'that. S'pose we ought'a move somethin'."

        "The shelter," Bon Bon insisted. "Not the cannons."

        Applejack gave me a sidelong look. "Like I was sayin'," she muttered.

Twilight finished her apple and cleared her throat. "You want to take a look at this, Bon Bon? Snake and I were trying to predict the enemy's approach before the Mayor came by. We've ruled out a western approach, since their camps are all east of Ponyville, but with the road through the Everfree cut off, they probably won't be coming from that direction, either. Of course, as I told Snake, an aerial attack would make this whole question moot."

"I think we can rule that out," I said. "Their helicopters are suited for troop and cargo transport – if I were Cain, I'd use them to airlift as many of his men to Canterlot as possible, instead of making them schlep up the mountainside."

Bon Bon stepped over to the map, staring at it closely. "So if they're not coming from the east, the west, or by air, then that leaves either north or south. Hmm..." She nabbed Twilight's pen out of the air with her mouth, shifted it to the corner of her lips, and reared onto her hind legs, pressing her forehooves against the shelf behind the map.

"We're working under the assumption that the enemy's base camp is deep in the Everfree Forest, right?" she said, chomping down on the pen like a cigar. "And, also, that they're going to attack Ponyville and Canterlot simultaneously. In that case..."

Sliding the pen to the middle of her mouth, she traced a long line through the forest, just east of where Twilight had marked the castle. The line stretched far to the north, between a river to the west and a place called Rambling Rock Ridge to the east, and terminated at the base of the lonely mountain where Canterlot perched.

        Twilight squinted at the spot where the line ended. "The mountain junction? What about it?"

        Bon Bon spat the pen into her hoof and wiped it off on her barrel. "We've been told that it caught fire, and that's why rail travel into Canterlot's closed off. That could well be true. It could also be that the enemy is occupying the junction, using it as a staging area to launch both attacks, to lessen the strain on their supply lines. I've been out there before – there's room enough to house a small army, if one was so inclined."

        Comprehension dawned on Twilight. She set her coffee mug on the floor, levitated the pen from Bon Bon's hoof, and traced another line west from the junction. This one followed a prominent road, which forked: north toward Canterlot, and south, directly into Ponyville.

        "Oh dear," Twilight whispered.

        "To say the least," Bon Bon muttered. "They could try to skirt around the town and hit our flanks, but they would still approach from the north. Probably deploying outriders to screen their approach, too."

        Twilight swallowed, capped the pen, and slid it behind her ear. "North it is, then. What else do we know?"

        "Not a whole lot," I admitted. "Logic suggests they'll commit most of their forces to Canterlot, but that doesn't tell us exactly what they're throwing our way. But if I had to guess, primarily infantry, with light armored support – an APC, maybe two, to transport troops and help break through hard points."

        Twilight glanced at her chalkboard, checking the definition of "APC," something I'd given her earlier. Like tanks, except not, she'd written.

"Think we'll see real tanks?" she asked, perhaps prompted by her own note.

"They don't have tanks, plural – they have a tank." An antiquated T-72, to be precise. "It's possible, but I think they'd want to send it to Canterlot, instead. Their fleet puts an emphasis on speed and mobility – cars and trucks, with the odd armored vehicle. If they only have one tank, then they'll want to put it where it'd be best suited. Say, a siege against a castle. It'd be wasted in Ponyville."

"What about Metal Gear?" Applejack asked. "They could send it after us. Or after Canterlot."

"A REX that's been built to spec could easily make the journey either way, and turn the tide of whatever fight it was in," I said. "But the one they have is a black market mess, built by militants in a cave with a box of scraps. I doubt it could make it through the Everfree."

"Any kind of armor is a threat," Twilight insisted. "We don't have any guaranteed countermeasures for armored vehicles. Even if Metal Gear's sitting the fight out, and they're just sending tanks – or little not-tanks, rather – I don't think our cannons will be a match for their plating."

"Relax," I said. "I've got a plan."

Twilight looked at me skeptically. "Your last plan was incredibly convoluted, and barely worked, recall."

"That was as much your plan as it was mine, recall. This one's much more straightforward." I shuddered inwardly at the memory of the saloon battle. "We use the C-4 Trenton provided to turn the Humvee into an IED – a car bomb – and pack it with as much explosive material as we can spare. We'd need to protect it long enough to get it into position, but the explosion would be sufficient to take out at least one vehicle."

"And if they send more than one?" said Bon Bon.

"Let me worry about that," I said, resting a hand on my hip. "I can handle any armor they send our way with what I have on hand – not easily, but I've managed it before. It's the infantry you need to concern yourself with."

"Saying that doesn't make me any less concerned about the armor," Twilight said, though she definitely looked a little less concerned. "The infantry, on the other hoof, I think we can deal with far more easily. I've been doing some thinking on that point."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "You have a plan?"

"More of an idea that I can see mutating into a plan," Twilight corrected. "Though it's only worth talking about if we can muster enough of a militia to put it into action. If we do, then great – I'll brief you all on it. If we don't..."

She didn't finish the thought, but I knew how she might've. If we didn't have the numbers to hold the town, then the best we could hope to do is fight a delaying action. Probably a doomed one. The smart thing for me to do in that eventuality would be to slip away, pursue Metal Gear, and leave Ponyville to its fate.

But I knew I could never do that. Not after Dodge.

"In the meantime, we need to start coordinating this defense in earnest," Twilight said, the authoritative tones of a leader hiding her uncertainty. "I'm thinking we'll regiment it four ways – earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, plus Pinkie's cannon crew. I was thinking I'd lead the unicorns, personally, and Rainbow more or less runs the weather team by now, so she'd get the pegasi. For the earth ponies—"

"I know where you're goin' with that, Twi," Applejack interrupted, shaking her head with a humble smile. "And I'm mighty flattered, but I'm gonna have to pass."

"...Actually, um..." Twilight shot a quick, furtive glance at Applejack. "I was gonna ask... Bon Bon."

"...Oh." Applejack's smile stretched into a thin, bony rictus.

Bon Bon lifted her sunglasses to expose a pair of turquoise eyes, widened in shock. "You want me to help you lead?"

"Well... you already kinda have been in a leadership role so far." Twilight laughed weakly. "How about it?"

Bon Bon stammered, looking between Twilight and Applejack. "I... I mean, I could, but... what about Applejack? Shouldn't she...?"

Truth be told, I thought Bon Bon was the better choice. But I'd fully expected Twilight to offer the command to Applejack anyway, and for Applejack to turn it down. Bon Bon would've gotten the job in any eventuality, but Twilight could've at least allowed Applejack to save some face. This was a snub, plain and simple.

And Applejack knew it. The hurt in her eyes was obvious. But she didn't let it get the better of her.

"It's like I was tellin' Snake, sugarcube, I don't got a head fer none o'this," Applejack said to the still-gobsmacked Bon Bon. "But you do. Shoot, I'd follow you – and I'll tan anypony's hide who says they won't."

A self-conscious smile spread across Bon Bon's face. "Well, with an endorsement like that, how can I say no?"

"Heh, yeah. You got this, Bon Bon." Applejack stepped past Twilight to pat Bon Bon's shoulder. Then she shot me a look, one which reminded me powerfully of the one Rainbow Dash had given me, when she was all but dead and begging me to keep Twilight safe.

I nodded back.

        Satisfied, Applejack smiled. "Guess I oughta talk with Big Mac 'n Cheerilee 'bout movin' the shelter. We'll find some other place 'fore the town goes kablooey, don't fret."

She turned away, and limped to the door.

"Applejack!" Twilight blurted, taking a step after her friend. "Wait. Please, it's not... it has nothing to do with..."

Applejack paused and craned her neck around to regard Twilight, who immediately stopped stammering and dropped her gaze to the floor. "It don't bother me none, Twi. Really."

"That's not what I..." Twilight's tail swished; her knees shook and knocked nervously. "Please, don't take it personally. I still need you. Okay?"

Applejack stared silently at her. Then, in a soft voice, she said, "Look me in the eye, an' say that."

Twilight's eyes lifted – for a fraction of a second – before she crushed them shut and drooped her head again.

"'S'what I thought." There was no resentment in Applejack's voice. "I'll see y'all later, girls. Snake."

With that, she walked off into the night, pulling the door shut with her tail.

        The minutes stretched on as Twilight stared after her, silent and unmoving. When she finally spoke, she sounded like the broken mare from the last night, when she'd dropped all appearances and retreated to her bedroom as a disconsolate mess.

"Rainbow Dash should still be at the town hall with Rarity," she said stoically. "Pass their assignments on to them, Bon Bon. I'm gonna have a look around town, check things out for myself. Maybe help with the evacuation a little bit. We'll meet at the hospital in two hours, alright?"

Bon Bon snapped to it right away, nodding and heading out.

"What about you?" Twilight said to me. "What'll you be doing?"

Guess I didn't fall into any of the regiments she'd laid out. Suited me fine, unless she wanted me in another leadership role. "If it's all the same to you, I'm gonna get started on the Humvee. Rigging it'll take some time; the sooner I do it, the better off we'll be."

Twilight nodded. "Sounds good. Come find me when you're all done."

Then Twilight was gone. Whatever courage she'd plucked after Dodge seemed to be wearing off, as the reality of our situation settled on her. And her friendships were showing signs of strain, too – or at least, her friendship with Applejack. Twilight drew strength from her friends; if things with just one of them fell apart, there's no telling how bad she might crack.

I tried to put it out of my mind, and turned toward the stairs—

Cherry Jubilee was gone.

Her fruit and coffee sat untouched where Applejack had left them, and the door to Twilight's bedroom – with the locker, and the shotgun – was ajar.

"Shit."

I bolted up the stairs and flung the door open – Cherry's head was inside the locker, her saddlebags drawn tight. She pulled out as she heard my approach, and whirled around.

"You wanna step away from there, Cherry," I said calmly.

Her eyes were wide and frantic. "I wasn't trying to—"

"Don't. Just... don't." I raised my hands, placating. "Must've been tough, biding your time, waiting for us to be distracted enough to make a break for it. I respect your patience. But you are not getting that shotgun."

Malice lit in Cherry's eyes. "You have no idea—"

"Don't I? I saw how you were staring at that thing after you shot Chrysalis." I took a carefully measured step forward. "It's not the first time I've seen someone in pain look at their gun that way."

"You have no right to deny me," Cherry hissed. She stomped her hoof. "It's not your decision, you understand me? It's not your decision to make!"

"I don't want you to blow your brains out, Cherry." I said it as calmly, and levelly, as I could.

Cherry froze, and turned her head away from me, her eyes fluttering halfway shut as she spoke haltingly. "That's not what I'm after. I do not... want... to die. I want... to... fight. I do not want—"

Her chest heaved as her breathing grew heavy, and a shudder ran through her. She clenched her teeth; the trembling in her body made them rattle together loudly. "Not... Dodge. Not again. Friends, neighbors. Dead, worse. Never... again."

That was a desire I could identify with, one I could understand, and respect. But I still couldn't let her have that gun.

"I believe you," I said, stepping closer to her. "And if you want to help out, we can find a place for you, some way for you to keep your friends here alive." When I was right in front of her, I knelt, and rested a hand on her withers.

"But not like this. Alright?"

Cherry looked back at me, her green eyes shimmering. Her lips moved, but no words came from them – it looked as though there was something she was trying desperately to say.

Finally, she just nodded, and wiped away her tears. Then, unexpectedly, she rushed into my chest and leaned against me.

"I'm sorry." Cherry sniffed, shutting her eyes.

Caught off guard, I just patted her awkwardly. "It's... alright. Look, wait for me downstairs; I'll walk you over to the hospital when I'm done up here. Maybe someone there can find a place for you."

Cherry squeezed tighter against me, for just a moment, before pulling away and shuffling out of the bedroom. She paused in the doorway. "That box, downstairs. Somethin' real nice in there, I'll bet."

She smiled at me, and her face cleared for an instant, before she left.

I got what I came for, and double-checked to make sure that Cherry's shotgun was inside, counting off the rounds I'd confiscated from her. When I was satisfied, I shut the lid, and leaned my weight against it.

Something still seemed... off. Before, during my rummaging, I glanced only briefly at the C-4. I was mostly preoccupied with the carbine and its add-ons, and only looked at the bombs it to ensure that they weren't armed and ready to blast me to kingdom come. There was enough there to blow the Humvee, no doubt about that; the plan could still go ahead.

It struck me as odd, though, that Trenton would give me that much C-4... but not pack a detonator.

"Ooh, here's a grand notion," said Granny Smith as she trudged through the dense corn maze. Stalks soared high above her head, their tips lost in the fog. "We need an emergency shelter fer all them old folks 'n foals what can't make the trip out to Whitettail Woods. Why not Sweet Apple Acres?"

Granny paused to thump her hoof against the ground, listening carefully with an ear cocked low. Grunting, she found another spot a few paces away, and repeated the process. "Now, do we run it past ol' Granny first? She knows th'farm better'n anypony dead or alive; she could find a good spot to stick yer huddled masses! Naw, let's just empty out the brand new apple cellar, an' shove everypony in there! No better place fer a shelter, right?"

"Yes, Granny, we're all right fools fer not comin' to you sooner," Applejack sighed. The elderly mare's creaky hips and arthritic gait meant that their walk was slow going, but considering her own injuries, Applejack didn't mind so much. Cheerilee was too good-natured and sweet to complain about their pace, but Big Mac's annoyed huffs conveyed his displeasure clearly.

They also had to put up with an endless stream of castigation from Granny, who had perfected castigation to an art form.

"Long as we got that clear," Granny grumbled, ducking under a drooping ear of corn. "Now see here, young'uns, it's time fer a li'l Apple family history. Oh, it must've been sixty years ago – yer great uncle, Braeburn Sr., he had himself the funny notion that he'd start himself a bootleg corn whiskey operation! 'Course, it weren't illegal t'brew 'n sell yer own moonshine – Johnny Law hadn't pruned that branch'a ne'erdowellery – but yer grunkle was always a few shy of a bushel, an' I could never say no t'him..."

Granny thumped her hoof against the ground again – and this time, whatever she heard made her face light up. "Mac, be a dear, come help yer granny with this."

Big Mac stepped forward and leaned down, helping Granny dig away the layers of soil hiding a piece of wood, one stinking of rot and covered in wriggling earthworms. Baffled, Big Mac tossed it aside, revealing a worn, earthen staircase leading underground.

Applejack balked. "What in the— Granny! You seriously tellin' me that you helped Grunkle Braeburn build a still under our cornfield?!"

"Be more accurate t'say we planted a cornfield over a still," Granny corrected, without a lick of concern.

"We got foals runnin' around back here on Nightmare Night, Granny!" Applejack cried, looking aghast at her grandmother.

"Oh, button yer lip; it's never caused problems 'fore, an' it's savin' all yer hides now." Granny wagged her eyebrows. "Really wanna complain?"

Mollified, yet still miffed, Applejack stepped inside, the others following after her. The caverns were dank, and cold, yet spacious, though a sulfury stink hung in the air.

"Certainly roomier than the cellar," said Applejack begrudgingly, trying her best not to breathe through her nose. "An' the cornfield's far enough from the cannons to keep anypony down here outta harm's way. But dang, that's a stench..."

"Is it? Hardly noticed." Granny paused beside Applejack, looking nostalgically around the chamber. "Oh, I ain't been down here since the still 'sploded. Spent that whole week cleanin' out piles o'corn mash 'n broken glass. An' piles of Grunkle Braeburn, too! Me an' him like to crack open a bottle o'cider an' laugh about it, every now 'n then."

Applejack pulled away from the older mare as she inhaled deeply.

"Nothin' quite like the taste of a sweet, sweet memory," Granny sighed.

Cheerilee forced out an awkward laugh. "That's a wonderful story, Granny Smith."

"Want me t'share it with yer class next time yer havin' a family 'preciation day?" Granny grinned gummily.

"...We'll talk about it." Cheerilee sidled up to Big Mac, looking around. "What do you think? Will it work?"

Big Mac looked around, and nodded slowly. "Applejack's right – it's better than the cellar. Room for more food 'n stuff. An' the foals won't be packed together so tight. You an' me, neither."

"Shame." There was just a suggestion of something less than family-friendly in Cheerilee's tone as she smiled knowingly at Big Mac. "I wouldn't have minded that part."

Big Mac blushed, though it was hardly noticeable against his coat. "Well, uh... I don't mind gettin' close if you don't, but—"

"Y'know, I ain't gonna be down here with y'all," Applejack interrupted, scowling. "Which means I'm gonna have to take it on faith that you two won't start canoodlin' in front'a the foals. Please don't give me reason to worry about that."

"Aw, let 'em canoodle," Granny cackled, elbowing Applejack. "How else am I s'posed t'get great grandchildren?"

Applejack rolled her eyes, muttering grumpily to herself as she turned to the stairs.

"Hey." Her brother stampeded after her, cutting her off as she emerged into the cornfield. "What d'you mean, you ain't gonna be down here?"

"I mean what I said. Now move."

Applejack tried to shoulder past him, but Big Mac didn't budge. "Thought you said you weren't gonna be in the fightin'," he growled.

"I said I weren't helpin' to lead the fight. I'm still gonna be in the thick of it. Now move."

This time, she did make it past him. Big Mac was too flummoxed to stop her.

"You ain't serious," he said, following frantically after her. "Yer a limpin' lump o'bruises an' burns, an' you're barely hangin' together. You seriously wanna get kicked around even more?"

"Lemme guess, you want me to hide in there an' canoodle with Cheerilee, 'stead of you, while you do all the fightin'?" Applejack stopped and whirled – or turned, gradually and painfully – to glare at her brother. "Not that the prospect ain't mighty appealing, but—"

"Damn it, take this seriously," Mac snapped. "You done plenty. Let me risk my life out there fer a change, li'l sister."

"Green ain't yer color, big brother," Applejack growled, leaning in close. "I don't got time fer no masculinity conundrums. If yer jealous that the little sister's down there takin' lumps fer Ponyville 'stead o'you, then that ain't my problem."

His eyes widened indignantly. "What kinda brother d'you think I am? I never felt that way 'bout you, not once! I'm proud o'you fer all yer heroics, Applejack – no brother alive's ever been prouder!"

Applejack tossed one of her forelegs in exasperation. "Then what is the big deal?!"

"The big deal is that you almost died last night!" Mac thundered. "You an' Apple Bloom both! An' where was I, huh?! Out cold, under a box, in the barn!"

Applejack felt guilt, icy and sharp, needle its way through her body.

"When I heard from you what happened out in the forest, it was like Ma 'n Pa all over again." Mac's lips shook and his voice quavered, and he looked away. "I never wanted t'feel that way ever again, but yesterday..."

Applejack felt her anger and annoyance drain away. She couldn't be mad, not when she knew exactly how he felt. "Mac..."

"I don't wanna be down there, hidin', with the old folks an' the foals. Wonderin' if yer comin' back at all, feelin' that sickness in the bottom of my stomach." Big Mac looked furiously, tearfully, at her. "I don't want to bury no more of my family!"

"I know how y'feel, believe me. I felt the same, when it was Apple Bloom." Applejack cupped Big Mac's face with a hoof, and he leaned into her touch, shaking. "But I gotta be down there, Mac. The girls need me, an' the town – even if I ain't leadin' 'em, they're gonna be lookin' fer me. They gotta see me in the mix, gotta know I'm with 'em."

Big Mac covered her hoof with his own. "You don't gotta be alone, AJ. You don't need to carry the weight o'the town by yourself."

"I won't be." She bumped their noses together. "I got my girls, Mac."

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. "But not your brother," he said in a strained whisper.

"No. I need you here, Mac. I need somepony I trust lookin' after everypony, an' more'n anypony else, I trust you."

And if things in town went bad, then he needed to live. To carry on, for the farm, for the family, and the sister she'd be leaving behind. She left that part unspoken, but she knew that they were both thinking it, that it was at the front of his mind as he pulled her in close.

"Don't make me bury you, little sister," he sobbed into her charred, chopped-up mane. His hooves wrapped tenderly around her, minding the burns, and the bruises, and her sore, damaged bones. "I love you, y'hear? Don't you dare leave us all alone."

Applejack shut her eyes, and let her brother hold her. Against his size, in his embrace, she felt like a little filly all over again.

Rainbow Dash and Bon Bon stared at Twilight in slightly stunned silence. Around them, in the hospital lobby, ponies rushed about to prep the building for an influx of injured defenders.

Twilight grinned weakly. "So... any feedback?"

"Uh, yeah. A little." Rainbow Dash leaned closer. "Don't get me wrong, Twi, the idea's awesome – awesome enough that it sounds like something I'd come up with. But are you sure you can pull it off? You said the shield you cast in the saloon broke against a swarm of zombies—"

"Golems."

"Whatever," Rainbow sighed. "The point is, do you think you'll be able to cast one that'll stand up to gunfire?"

"And even if it can, that's only half the battle," Bon Bon added. "We're looking at a close quarters melee, if your plan works."

"Which means we can engage them on our terms," Twilight said. "With their guns, they can just sit back and pick away at us from a distance, but if we close the gap, then we deprive them of that advantage. It'll be a mess of a brawl, sure, but we have no chance at range. And the shield will hold, Rainbow. Trust me, both of you – we have enough ponies to pull this off."

In truth, she wasn't sure on that point. Twilight had been hoping for upwards of two hundred ponies, with an even number of representatives across all three of Ponyville's racial demographics. In the end, they'd only been able to scare up sixty earth ponies, ten unicorns, and sixteen pegasi. Not counting noncombatants, the militia numbered only eighty-six.

She couldn't let her disappointment show, though. She had to be strong, to project confidence.

"We'll assemble the militia in front of town hall in one hour for a full briefing. You should both see to your regiments before then. Rainbow, I want you to designate some fliers as messengers, and work out routes between them – we want to make sure we can keep coordinating this defense if things get hectic. I don't want our lines of communication cut off."

"I'll see what I can do," Rainbow said with a facetious salute. "But keep in mind, most of the pegasi in town are either AWOL, evacuating, or doing the non-combatant shtick, like Fluttershy and Bulk. The only pegasus ponies who volunteered to fight came from the weather team, and they've got their hooves full maintaining the fog and working as spotters and look-outs. Which is exactly where we need 'em, given how bad visibility is with the fog. I don't know if we'll have enough for messengers, too."

"Did you say...?" Twilight's ear flicked. "You're missing some of your team?"

"I put Thunderlane and Blossomforth on patrol duty, and didn't realize what a mistake that was until after they vanished. Probably to crawl all over each other," Rainbow added bitterly. "And nopony's seen Cloud Kicker in days."

Blossomforth... she spoke up during the town hall meeting. She was worried about spies...

        Twilight's niggling worry must've shown on her face, because Rainbow patted her reassuringly. "Don't freak out on me, egghead. Cloud Kicker's a flake at the best of times; she probably just flew to Cloudsdale for the week without telling anypony. Wouldn't be the first time. And as for Thunder and Blossom, I'll find 'em and chew 'em out. Everything's fine. Okay?"

        Twilight, unconvinced, nevertheless nodded, shoving her misgivings deep down for the time being. "See to your ponies, Rainbow."

        Rainbow gave Twilight another pat, and swept outside. Twilight turned to head deeper into the hospital, Bon Bon following after her, as nurses and orderlies rushed this way and that.

"You got a second?" Bon Bon lifted her sunglasses and peered closely at Twilight, eyebrows knitting together. "If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

        "It's been at least a couple days," Twilight admitted. "But I slept a little on the train to Dodge. I had this dream, something about teacups and garbanzo beans..."

        "Sounds refreshing." Bon Bon patted Twilight's back sympathetically. "You're holding up remarkably."

        No. I'm not. Applejack would have known better.

"Likewise," said Twilight. "I know you didn't ask for this job, but you're doing pretty well. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you had a talent for this sort of thing. You weren't with the Guard, by chance, were you? Maybe as an officer?"

        "Who, me? Nah. Candy mare's all I am, and all I've ever been." Bon Bon laughed, but Twilight could sense her deflecting as she lowered her shades. "Anyway, if you're sure you're okay, then I should probably go. I want to whip at least some discipline into my regiment before the fighting starts."

        "Sure." Twilight nodded. "Town hall, in one hour. Don't forget, okay?"

        "Aye aye." Bon Bon grinned, and set off down the corridor.

Twilight turned a corner, and stepped into a hallway lined with windows, many of which had been nailed shut. The culprit was Rarity, who was currently pressing a board across a window pane and pounding home a nail with precise swipes of a telekinetically gripped hammer. Beside her was a bucket, presumably full of nails.

"Involving yourself in manual labor, Rarity?" Twilight called as she walked the hall's length. "Things must be more dire than I thought."

        "How droll. I'll tell you what I told Fluttershy: I have never been afraid to get my hooves dirty, should the situation necessitate it. It's my way of making a difference." Rarity gave the nail one final thwack and sighed with satisfaction. "There. One more down, and only... however many outward-facing windows are left in the hospital to go."

Twilight looked down at her materials – or lack thereof. "I'm pretty sure you just ran out of wood, Rarity. And you could use a few more nails, too."

"Oh... details." Rarity looked pensively at Twilight. "Are you well, darling?"

"Just fine, Rarity." Twilight liked to think she was getting good at faking smiles, but the fashionista's face twisted sympathetically regardless. What fooled Bon Bon would never work on her closest friends.

"Twilight," said Rarity, stepping away from her window to cup Twilight's chin. "It's just me. You can be honest."

"Rarity, please." Twilight's smile fell, and she brushed Rarity's hoof off her face. "Not right now. Just... just let me pretend, okay?"

If I let myself fall apart, I'm never gonna be able to put myself back together again.

"You don't have to," Rarity murmured. "Let me be there for you. The way you were there for me today."

"You are there for me, though." Twilight gestured at the boarded-over window. "See? You're right where I need you."

Rarity narrowed her eyes. "That's not what I meant, dear."

"...I know." Twilight hugged Rarity, who returned it half-heartedly. "When this is over, we can have ourselves a good cry together, maybe over ice cream. But right now..."

"Fine. Say no more." Rarity stroked a hoof through Twilight's mane. "But know that I shall hold you to your word."

Spike's room was still Spike's room, despite the hospital's hurried preparations, the pooling and rationing of critical supplies, and the planks of wood nailed over his window. He lay in his bed, his lips wrapped around his feeding tube, as though he were a baby again and it were nothing more than a gigantic bottle. On the bedside table was a bouquet of white flowers, and a golden brooch set with a heart-shaped ruby.

Twilight's eyes stung.

Behind her, the doctor who'd treated Spike coughed, and Twilight turned to regard him. He was more drawn and red-eyed than she was, probably in part because he'd performed two complex procedures in the same day, on two of her friends, with little sleep.

"We've moved most of our patients to a single ward at the back of the hospital," the doctor said through a yawn. "Spike, though... we can't move him, not with the feeding tube. So he gets the best room in the house, and all to himself, too. Though I can't guarantee he'll remain alone. If the injuries start piling up, we'll need every inch of space we have."

"Thank you, doctor." She touched his shoulder. "You've really gone above and beyond lately. I won't forget it."

"I don't intend to let you." He left, shutting the door behind him.

Twilight reached out to Spike, tracing her hoof along his cheek, his jaw. After so many years, he still felt like a fragile, porcelain doll, his scales as smooth as the day she'd hatched him.

She thought back to that day wistfully. Princess Celestia had asked if she wanted to hold him, but she was too afraid she'd drop him, and that he'd break into a million pieces. Even after Celestia patiently explained that his scales were harder than every bone in Twilight's body put together, that she was physically incapable of doing him any harm... short of hurting his feelings by refusing to hold him... she couldn't bring herself to put him in danger.

I should never have brought him into the forest with me. No matter how much he pleaded.

"I wish you were here with me, now, Spike," she whispered. "I wish I could talk things out with you. You'd probably say something sarcastic, and unhelpful, that I'd scold you for... and then, when you weren't looking, I'd laugh, like always. I miss your voice. I even miss that sense of humor that makes you such a pain in the butt. I... I just miss you. More than I thought possible, I miss you."

Twilight leaned in close, and kissed Spike softly on the cheek.

"We're going to win this." She slid her hoof into his limp and open hand. "And you are going to survive. And I will never let anything hurt you again.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, or something she imagined... but she swore she felt his fingers close around her hoof.

The town had largely evacuated by the time Twilight emerged from the hospital, and only those participating in the defense of Ponyville remained. Waiting for her outside was Snake, fully dressed and wearing the coat Rarity made for him. The brown fabric was a nice contrast against the dark blue Pegasus Wings uniform.

"Completed the ensemble, I see," said Twilight. "With the shave, the haircut, and now the new outfit, you almost appear respectable."

"I should have a comeback for that," said Snake. "But this coat's too comfortable for me to get annoyed with you. It's like Rarity's robbed me of some essential part of my personality."

Twilight laughed, grateful that she wasn't too far gone for that much. "It really does look good on you, Snake."

"Yeah, I'm not one for overcoats, personally, but this one I could get used to." Snake pulled the coat closed over his chest, and crossed his arms. "I finished wiring up the Humvee, but I'm not keen on driving it into position when it's essentially a bomb on four wheels. Feel like helping?"

        "Well, since you asked nicely... for once..." Twilight sighed. "Sure thing, Snake. Just, uh... give me a minute to sit down, okay? I've been on my hooves for hours, and..."

        "Say no more. A lot of that going around."

        Twilight backed up until she was against the hospital's outer wall, and slid to her bottom, sighing as her hooves relaxed. Snake sat down beside her, a similar noise escaping him.

        "What time even is it?" Snake said, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

        "Last I checked, around five in the morning." Twilight's head tilted slightly in thought. "Probably close to a quarter after by now."

        "Quarter after five..." Snake groaned. " I really wish I'd gotten more sleep on the train."

        Twilight smirked. "You need a nap?"

        "Considering we've been up for more than twenty-four hours now, almost uninterrupted, and I spent a good portion of that driving? Yeah, a nap would be nice." Snake looked at her from the corner of his eye. "What about you; how are you holding up?"

        "Everypony keeps asking me that. They never believe me when I say I'm fine." Twilight huffed. "I don't suppose there'd be any point in telling you that I am."

        "I can drop it, if you want." Snake's voice rumbled more softly than normal.

        "...No. No, I'm sorry." Twilight slumped her shoulders. "So much has happened lately. Even setting aside Dodge, and everything before, we've all been moving around nonstop to get Ponyville ready. And we've just barely gotten started – there's still so much more to do. I'm tired, Snake. I'm so, so tired. I just want to stop, and catch my breath, but I can't. Heck, just sitting here, gabbing with you, is a luxury that I can barely afford."

Snake stayed silent for a moment while Twilight rubbed her eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that I left a present for you in the library?"

She peeked over her hooves at him, blinking.

"The Humvee's stereo – I ripped it out of the dashboard and took it to your place. The music, too." Snake smirked. "Seemed a waste to blow them up with the rest of the car, when you liked them so much."

Twilight, genuinely touched, felt the tips of her ears twitch up. "That's sweet, Snake. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet; you still have to figure out how to get it to work." Snake waved his hand. "Which you damn well better. Ripping it out added an extra hour to the job, and I don't want that time going to waste."

"Oh, yes. Can't have that." Twilight chuckled, and sighed.

Leaning back, she realized she could see sky through a hole in the fog. That was Rainbow Dash's doing – without the constant maintenance of the entire weather team, the fog would naturally drift away and dissipate. To stave that off, Rainbow had decided to concentrate it at the town's perimeter, so she set some ponies to work hollowing it out and shifting the extra clouds over to where they'd be most needed.

It seemed no more than a delaying tactic to Twilight, who wasn't sure how effective the fog would remain in the daytime. At night, the fog could be maintained easily, but daylight would burn it off altogether. And that was a shame; she hated to lose such a grand example of pegasus (and Ponyvillian) ingenuity to the inevitable rising of the sun. Hell, the sight was so shocking and awe-inspiring, it had stunned even Snake into silence before he could...

Twilight blinked and poked Snake sharply in the arm. "Hey. You never answered my question from earlier. I asked what made you come back to fighting after you retired, remember? The fog shut you up before you could get back to me."

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd just forget about that. The discomfort on Snake's face made Twilight's insides squirm. "What does it matter? Why do you want to know?"

"Because..." Twilight wilted, flattening her ears against her head. "Does it honestly matter?"

"It might." Snake's teeth ground, a dull sound that clashed with the ambient noises of the early morning. "Tell you what. I'll tell you, if you answer a question of mine first. Deal?"

Twilight, wary, nodded at him.

"What is going on between you and Applejack?"

Twilight's heart sank. Of course Snake would notice that something was wrong between she and Applejack; she should have expected him to bring it up eventually. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about.

But a deal was a deal.

"Back in the castle, after we split up," Twilight began. "You were gonna go after Metal Gear, and Applejack and I were gonna get Apple Bloom. You remember?"

"I remember the plan going belly up in a hurry."

"Well, we were walking into a trap. As you know." Twilight looked out at the town, recalling in her mind the moments and sensations of that night. She shivered. "There was a guard there, in the dungeon, sleeping. Applejack and I woke him up by accident. He... tried to strangle us."

Twilight touched her throat gently, swallowing hard just to make sure she still could.

"We fought back. He got frustrated, and started shooting, but he couldn't see too well. I thought that he'd gotten Applejack with a lucky shot, and I thought he was gonna come after me. So I reached out blindly – I couldn't really see either – I reached out with my magic, and I took his gun away from him. And I..."

She started to tremble, and clenched her teeth together, willing herself to hold together.

"...You shot him," Snake finished, matter-of-factly.

"No. The gun was empty – he'd fired all his bullets before I could. Applejack killed him. Crushed his skull like it was made of paper."

Mad laughter echoed in her mind, silenced by a sickening crunch and a thud.

"I know what you're probably thinking, Snake. Him or me. Right?" She wanted to close her eyes, but was terrified of what she'd see, what she'd hear and smell. "But it came so easily. I wasn't agonizing over the moral dilemma of taking another life when I had his gun. I was thinking about you. Wondering how it felt for you, when you shot someone. Even that was just in the back of my mind. Actually pulling the trigger? That was automatic. Instinctual."

"Ponies have no killer instinct," Snake muttered. "Or so I'm told."

Twilight saw a wolfish grin and sharp, white teeth in her mind's eye. "How do you explain it then? I did it without thinking. If that guy had pulled the trigger one less time, it'd be me with blood on my hooves, not Applejack."

She lost her fight against her own trembling. "I don't have a problem with Applejack, Snake. I have a problem with myself. Every time I look at her, I'm reminded that it was almost me who killed that guard. I'm reminded of the weight of the gun, the feel of the trigger, the reek of the gunpowder, and the sound of the guard's laugh. I'm reminded that, no matter who did the deed... I may as well have killed him myself."

Her vision blurred as tears rolled down her face. "Applejack told me, just before it happened – if she had to kill to save her family, she'd do it and wouldn't feel bad over it. And I wonder, did she mean that? Because if she did, then... then I don't know who she is anymore. And if she didn't mean it, then I have no right feeling sorry for myself, because what she'd be going through... I can't even imagine it. I want to ask her, but every time I look at her, think to myself that I should talk to her..."

"You're right back in the dungeon," Snake said softly.

"Exactly. And that's why I need to know." Twilight huddled her trembling legs closer to her body. "Because when I look at you, I don't see a remorseless killer, or someone fighting someone else's wars for a paycheck. I see a good person, probably fighting for good reasons. And I need to know if they're enough to make the kind of life you live... that violent, chaotic life on the battlefield... worth living."

She felt a hand against the back of her neck, a gentle touch that came as consolation, as she lost herself to silent sobs. She still couldn't let herself fall apart – not now, with so much on the line. But she didn't mind letting her guard down, just a little, around Snake. It wasn't like with Rarity or Bon Bon; she didn't need to prove anything to him. She didn't need to try and pretend that everything was okay.

He gave her time to cry before offering any words of comfort. "It's one thing to say that you can kill without remorse. In the abstract, it makes sense. Applejack may have meant it when she said it, but that doesn't mean it's how she felt after doing it. She probably doesn't feel so different from you right now. The two of you could help each other, if one of you reached out."

"Meaning me, probably. Applejack has a history of bottling up her problems."

Although I'm sure I have no place to criticize...

Twilight, a little more relaxed now that she'd gotten some of her emotion out, leaned closer to Snake with a sigh. "Tell me this – is it ever worth it? Is it ever right, to take a life?"

Snake weighed his answer before giving it. "I'm an old killer, Twilight. I've caused more than my share of bloodshed, for a lot of reasons. And I'll tell you now, not once has it ever been right. There's nothing noble about murder. You can justify it, sure – kill in the name of a good cause – but that doesn't make the act of killing just. Anyone tells you otherwise, they're a psychopath in denial, trying to rationalize it to themselves. Applejack? She's no psychopath. Trust me, I've known plenty in my time."

He stood, towering high over Twilight. In the hospital's lamplight, the shadow he cast stretched longer than his body.

"Now, your town, your friends – they're worth fighting for. I can't tell you if they're worth killing for; you need to answer that question yourself. But if there's any advice I can give you, it's this." Snake reached his hand out to her. "Whatever you do, don't ever let it be okay to take another life."

A smile broke through Twilight's gloom as she put her hoof in Snake's hand and let him pull her up. "You still haven't answered my question."

"An answer for an answer – that was the deal," said Snake. "You never said when I had to give it to you."

Twilight chuckled wetly, sniffed, and pulled her hoof from his grip. "Well, now I have to make it through this fight."

And you do, too.

        The pegasi were trying to conserve what fog they had by clumping it up at the town's borders, keeping the countryside out of view. But the hills and peaks, both distant and near, could be seen. And, as we approached the plaza surrounding the town hall, so could the Humvee.

        It was the ponies next to it that caught my eye, though. One was Bon Bon; one was Pinkie Pie. One had a bucket of pink paint, and a brush in her mouth, and the other was trying desperately to hammer some common sense through the other's skull.

        Try and guess who was who.

        "Pinkie!" Twilight cried, alarmed. "What in Equestria do you think you're doing?!"

        Pinkie spat the brush into the can and grinned at Twilight, flecks of pink staining her teeth and gums. "Makin' some cosmetic improvements. The first time I saw this thing, I knew right away that I didn't like the look of Not-Luna on the door. I had a little bit of extra time after getting the Boom-Boom Brigade all up to speed, so I figured I'd give this girl a little flair before we sent her on her way!"

        She bounced aside, reared onto her hind legs, and made a grandiose gesture at the car door with both her front hooves. The Pegasus Wings sigil had been painted over, in hot pink letters, with the name EXPLODEY MCGEE.

        Twilight smacked herself so hard that I swear there was a hoof-shaped welt on her forehead for the rest of my stay in Equestria. "Pinkie Pie, this is a terrible, no good, very bad idea."

        "What, you don't like the name?" said Pinkie. "Bon Bon told me you were gonna blow it up, so I thought it might—"

        "Your train of thought should've ended at 'we're gonna blow it up," I said sternly. "The last thing you want to do with a car bomb is announce to the enemy that you're using said car as a bomb!"

        "So..." Pinkie's ear twitched. "Maybe a different name? I can always paint over it, I guess."

        I wished I still had my tranquilizer gun – one shot, just one shot, and I wouldn't have to hear Pinkie talk again for hours.

        "Well, alrighty, I have a couple others in mind," Pinkie said brightly, hopping down to all fours again. "How's about—"

        Before she could finish, her eyes widened, and a ripple ran through her, from the bottoms of her hooves to the tips of her ears. Her limbs flailed, inflating and deflating at random, as her body flopped up and down against the dirt; her mane and tail puffed up and flattened, and her ears wound tightly around one another in double, triple, quadruple knots.

        I almost rushed forward, but Twilight stopped me, shaking her head curtly. "Let her ride it out."

        Ride it out, she did – and at the end of her seizure, Pinkie sat on the ground, her head moving in a dizzy circle. "Whooooaaaakie-dokie-lokie... feelin' a little scrombled here..."

        I leaned over to Twilight. "The hell did I just watch?"

        "Pinkie Sense," said Pinkie, her voice airy and distant. "That's a new one though – a real doozy. But a new kind of doozy. A noozy, you could call it."

        "Wonder what it meant," Bon Bon muttered.

        Then a pink glow, faint and distant, shone upon the Humvee, upon the entire town. We turned to look at its source: a bright dome that slowly formed around Canterlot, enveloping it from the base of the castle, to the tip of the mountain. Just before it finished, there was an explosion near its top, a pinprick of yellow light.

"Probably not a good sign," I growled.

        Twilight's breath caught, and she faltered for just an instant before snapping back into action. "Bon Bon, round up everypony – tell them to meet us out here. We're gonna run through the plan and get into position right away. Pinkie, get back to your post and—"

        "Uh-uh." For the first time since I'd met her, Pinkie sounded legitimately worried. "That wasn't it, Twilight. That wasn't the noozy."

        "Not the noozy? Not the noozy?!" Twilight paled and pointed toward Canterlot. "If that's not the noozy, then..."

        A heavy footstep echoed across the plaza, silencing Twilight before she could finish.

       The curtain of haze parted for XMG IRVING-00, limping toward us on legs which were far more stable than its appearance in Fluttershy's yard would have led me to believe. Instinctively, I drew the carbine and set the red-dot sight over its undercarriage, distantly wondering whether a 5.56 round would be any good against it. Had Fluttershy'd been wrong? Had I been wrong?

No, I realized. This wasn't the feral monster from the castle, nor the thoughtful, wounded creature from Fluttershy's yard. This was different from what I'd heretofore seen from IRVING. This was new... and yet familiar all the same.

A cruciform cloud gathered over IRVING's head. Yellow eyes, like burning coals, sparked into life at its top; they narrowed to razor slits, as IRVING emitted a shuddering, bovine groan. The Lord of the Flies had a new puppet, and it was laughing at me.

I squeezed the trigger and held it down. Bullets sparked off IRVING's armor and splattered harmlessly against its legs as it unceasingly mocked my efforts.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Twilight cried out Cherry Jubilee's name; I stopped firing and turned to look at her, to ask her why...

        ...and a wave of heat and a metallic shriek assaulted me from my right side. In the same instant, a blinding light consumed my vision, as Explodey McGee lived up to its name.