//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: Prelude to Madness // Story: Sweetie Bot - A Heart's Warming Tale // by Grimweird //------------------------------// Sweetie walked. For how long she did not know. The sun and moon never rose in the sky. There was nothing but the endless gray clouds and the rain pouring down on her. She was cold and soaked, sour, hungry and tired. All of her hooves where hurting from all the walking and running. (Minus her right front hoof, who she could not feel beneath the knee.) And all the while she kept asking herself the same question. Why? Why was she doing this? -:: Because they caused you pain ::- Why was she running? -:: To get away from the pain ::- And what did she hope to accomplice by running? -:: ... Getting away from pain ... ::- The voices in her head was not helping. It was true that she ran from those who would hurt her. But in doing so, was she not causing more harm to herself? After all, where had it brought her? Out here in the woods chasing the imaginations of some paranoid, superstitious woodspony and his son. Because she had dared to believe their insane story of metal ponies lurking the woods. Truly she must be mad to have followed such ideas. Yet she had done it anyway. Because she wanted to meet others of her kind. But if such creatures existed. They did not want to be found. She had been running around the woods for a small eternity. It could be hours or days for all she knew. She might even have been running in circles as she checked behind every tree after she became convinced that these strange otherworldly ponies where playing hide and seek with her. Why else where they not answering her calls? She had called out several times. She called and shouted and eventually screamed for others to come and find her. Screamed until her throat became sore. But she was calling out to empty trees. The forest was silent. Every bird had long since flown south, and every little critter had gone into deep hibernation. The only thing that answered her calls were the rain. The constant sound of falling water created a curtain that drowned out all sounds other than her own sploshing hoof beats. Then she realized that if the rain drowned out any sound she could hear, then her own voice would be drowned out to. Nopony would be able to hear her over the sound of the falling water. And since shouting was pointless she picked up the paste. She ran and ran hoping to find anything. Hoping that a light would appear in the distance guiding her to some form of sanctuary. But the rain remained an impenetrable curtain. She was cut of from the world in her own little bubble of darkness and cold. She cursed the cold. And she cursed the strange imaginary ponies for leaving her out like this. Cursed them for remaining hidden from her when she needed them the most. If they where gonna act like this then she didn't even want to find them. She had long since passed the point when even the most determined treasure hunting filly would give up and go home. But she had no home. And as it became more and more clear she was not gonna accidentally stumble into some form of settlement her drive to press on started to dwindle. What was she expecting? To find a tribe of metal ponies who would take her in as one of their own? That she would stumble and fall down a rabbit hole to the secret kingdom of lost toys? That she would get picked up by aliens to their mothership and leave this hurtful world behind? That was all she wanted. To get away from the pain. And doing that meant getting away from those who could hurt her. But how bad had they really hurt her? It was true that it was she who decided to run away. to get away from the pain. But compared do the pain she was causing herself those things seemed small and insignificant. She began to compare the memories of her hurt to her current situation. The memory of Rarity's punch played in her mind. Blurry and filled with questions. How hard had it really been? Was it just a little push? Maybe Rarity just raised her forelegs, and Sweetie had just bounced of her? Rarity could be quite soft and bouncy. And sweet. And squishy. Like a marshmallow. Her stomach made a loud rumble. She tried to smile at the concept of having a piece of candy for a sister. But it only made her hungrier. She wished Rarity was here so she could eat her. Not because she hated her. Even though maybe she should. Since she had pushed her aside and forced her to leave. Even thought that wasn't the main reason. No. Rarity's push or Scootaloos words where not the main force that had made her leave. Rather it was the eyes that scared her the most. The eyes that had hurt the most. That's what she ran from. From those who would look at her differently. From those who would treat her differently. But she was different. It had become harder and harder to deny that. Scootaloo had called her a Toy for the rich Branch had said she was like a robot toy. She did not want to be anyponys toy. She wanted to be a real pony. But ponies always found out her secret. And if they where always going to find out - Did that mean that it was her place? Was being a toy who she was really meant to be? She looked back at her flank. Bare. “Have I ever tried to be a toy?” She asked herself. What would a toy for a mark look like? A teddy bear? Teddy bears where soft and snuggly things. Meant for cuddling and hugging. Right now she wanted nothing more than a hug. And a meal. And some roof over her head. And a warm bed to rest in. -:: Homesickness levels rising ::- She just wanted to find her way back. Back to Rarity. That little fight they had seemed so meaningless now. She wanted to be home under a warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate in her hooves in front of the fireplace. But she couldn't get home. She was lost. And she had no one to help her. She had left the only two ponies who might have been able to help her find the way back in order to run out into the woods looking for fables created by a paranoid woodcutter. Not that she could have stayed - said a voice in her head. The threat of what they might do to her was to big. Still. Maybe she would not have been found out if she had just trusted Branch with her secret. Then she could at least have had a home, a bed, and food for as long as the secret would have lasted. It did seem mad to trade that for the endless forest, the cold, and rain. Her stomach rumbled again. She had to stop and put a hoof around it, less it might try to eat itself from within. If she had been hungry before - now she was flat out starving. Her stomach felt like it was twisting together into a knot. It was a pain she could not outrun. Pain was something to be avoided at all cost. That was the directive she was written for herself. But she could not run from her hunger. -:: Contradiction ::- Yes. It was all a series of contradicting compromises as she tried to weigh the options of what would cause her the least amount of pain. Was that how she was gonna have to live her life from now on? Moving from family to family hoping they take pity on her and shield her until he secret was out and she had to move again? No. She did not want that to be her life. She would rather be a doll to some drooling children than having to live like this. Anything rather than living like this. She made a promise to herself not to run from from the next place she got to. She was gonna stay regardless of how ridiculed she got, as long as she got something to eat. The horror of ponies looking down her with those eyes did not measure up to the pain of her empty stomach imploding on itself. It did not outweigh the cold that was biting through her fur with daggers of ice cold water. It did most certainly not appear worse than the constant dripping sound of raindrops that was really starting to drill their way into her mind! -:: Hate levels rising ::- Sweetie raised her head and screamed at the skies. Screamed at the stupid weather pegasi that had followed her with these clouds of misery. Screamed at them for forcing this frozen shower upon her. Screamed at them to stop this cruel joke. She screamed until she should have run out of breath, but with no breaths to take she just kept screaming until something inside her said she had exceeded her set voice limit and started a hoarse sequence. Her voice gave out and her throat started to hurt. More pain was all she got for her trouble. The rain that just wouldn't stop. And the voices wouldn't stop either. Voices She could hear go through the notions in the back of her head. Voices that said her body temperature was dropping. That her skin was suffering from cold exposure. How her pistons was suppose to vibrate to simulate shivering. How much Telling a nerve cluster in her nose to stimulate her mucosa to produce more snot. Maybe she rely was insane if she was hearing voices? That sounded like a perfectly logical explanation to everything she was doing. She was after all running around in the woods looking for the imaginations of some paranoid, superstitious woodspony and his son. If they even existed in the first place. Maybe she imagined saving a foal from the river and drowning. A voice in her head told her that was impossible. She clearly had memories of both Branch and Mr Beaver. She must be going insane. Maybe she already was insane? Maybe that explosion had given her brain damage. Maybe she imagined the whole thing? She pulled down her sock and looked down on the gears in her exposed foreleg. Maybe she imagined that too. Maybe it was all an hallucination and she was some crazy pony with a few loose screws running around in the forest at night thinking she was a robot? But no matter how much she wished brain damage could explain the questions of her being it did not help the situation she had put herself in. Insanity did not stop the reality of the rain. Was there no way to end this? Was there no way to turn off the cold? She didn't want to feel this way any more. She wished with all her might that there would be some way to make the cold stop. She prayed to the stars hidden above - Luna please come down and take this rain away! Her desperate desire made an insane thought appear in her mind. Insane in the sense that it was something she would never have considered. Something no ordinary little filly should be able to do. She looked down on her right foreleg. The only part of her that was unaffected by the weather. At The edge of the scourged red area were toothmarks had slowly begun to heal away, and new skin slowly crept back over the metal. The edge of flesh that should have hurt so bad it rippled her, but didn't. The edge of naked meat that went as unaffected by the rain and cold ans the metal joints below. “Could you please stop freezing?” She asked herself. At first, nothing. She asked a couple of more times, and still nothing. “STOP FREEZING!” She yelled in her already sour voice. Nothing. Then she started laughing. She laughed because she really must have gone insane if she was screaming at herself? Why was she screaming anyway? The voices where in her head. Should she not be screaming at them? So, she turned her attention inwards. Backwards. And listened. To the voices. Just doing so brought them to her attention. -:: ... Shivering sequence ongoing ... ::- Could you please stop freezing? She thought at the voices. At first, nothing. She asked a couple of more times, and still nothing. -:: Frustration levels rising ::- She quickly lost patience. What kind of stupid imaginary partner would just ignore her? what kind of companionship would these voices be if they just ignored her? She wanted to take that voice and give it a face just so she could punch it into obedience. They were her imaginary friends for Pete's sake, and they where gonna do as she said! She was done asking nicely. She was way too cold, hungry and tired to put up with them. Instead she mentally screamed at the voice, demanding obedience. -:: STOP FREEZING! STOP SHAKING! STOP FEELING SO COLD! ::- -:: Command Override ::- -:: Shivering sequence halted ::- At once, as if somepony had cast a paralyze spell on her, her body became still. Sweetie would have gasped at her situation if she could draw breath. She had to move her body around to check that it had not frozen solid in the cold. It had not. It moved at her will, as smooth as ever. More even since she was no longer vibrating like a leaf. For the first time in to long, Sweeties lips curled upwards in a genuine smile. She had done it. She had made one of the stupid voices in her head stop! She became so filled with joy she wanted to dance. If the cold had not caused her to shiver. -:: Resuming shivering sequence ::- -:: No! Stop! ::- -:: Override ::- -:: Resuming... ::- -:: Override ::- -:: Resuming... ::- -:: OVERRIDE! ::- -:: … ::- -:: Resuming … ::- Sweetie let out a non existent breath in frustration. She had made the voices in her head obey her for just for a moment, but then they started again. Every time she tried to make them shut up they rebooted. Like they where just messing with her. For that she wanted to grabbing hold of them and smack them around for being such meany beans. If they where not gonna listen to her they could at least be quiet. She tried to smack them out of her head. But that did not work. Every time she smacked one voice away a new one took its place. There where nopony to smack but herself. They where just words being thrown at her like crumpled paper from an annoying classmate. The voices themselves seemed to be coming from somewhere far, far away. Like an echo from a cave that stretched deep back into her mind. Sweetie wanted to know who was shouting. She wanted to follow the sound of the voices into that dark cave, find the ones who was talking, and punch them all in the muzzle. She stretched her mind backwards. Fooling the echo back into the darkness. As she focused on in she felt herself being pulled deeper into herself. And subsequently further away from her eyes. Turning her attention back from the deeps of her mind she could feel that her eyes had stopped moving. They just stared, dumbfound, like a pair of windows out into the world out there She could still see through her eyes. But she lost control of them as her focus disappeared elsewhere. A moment of panic was about to set in as she thought she was about to be pulled on another roller-coaster-ride. But this time it wasn't hew whole body screaming at her at once. It was just a single trail of information that flowed into the forefront of her mind, because she had asked it. One flow of voices who had come because she asked for them. Something else triggered inside her. Curiosity. Like a foal playing gold digger she wanted to see where they came from. She wanted to go into that cave in the back of her mind. Guided by these voices that would show her the way. Along the track they had laid out for her. If she could take a breath to calm herself, she would. Before donning her metaphorical mining cap and ventured down into the darkness. She followed the track back as she backtracked the flow of the voices along the track back into her mind. For reasons she could not explain She knew she would find answers to her problem at the source of the voices. It was like she had access to information she had previously been cut off from, and had chosen to ignore up until now. Or it might all just be wishful things made up by her ever growing insanity. The shivering sequence, and all the others voices that bugged her about her cold, all came together on the same track. They all came from the same place somewhere in the back of her mind. (Or some part) Something she became aware of. Something labeled possessor “Body functions processor” She did not know how she knew it was called that. The information was just there, on it. And it was almost overwhelming. If the voices she had followed were a track, then this was the head of all switching stations. Though comparing the things that passed through here to something as clumsy as locomotives was wrong. It was more like rivers flowing through a channel junction. Rivers of information flowing through a main pipeline where information flowed back and forth. -:: Skin temperature dropping // Body temperature below comfort levels // Shivering sequence ongoing ::- -:: Food supply emptied // Rising hunger levers // Stomach ache ongoing // Increasing stomach ache ::- -:: Booger production ongoing // Stimulating nerve cluster “nostril left and right.” // Itch detected in nostrils // Initiate sneeze sequence // Command aborted // Airpump on standby // Breathing protocols on standby // Failsafe active ::- She realized she had found the source of the voices. Was this the source of her insanity? If so, she wanted to remove it. But at the same time it would be lonely to do so. They where her only companion. What harm could there be in talking to them? She asked the processor if it could stop feeling cold. But it could not. Because the processor was simply relaying information about the cold to the rest of the body (in form of the appropriate sequences. The flow of cold information came flowing from somewhere else. From hundreds of sensors. And each and every sensor was connected to a little organic knot. And these knots where… Everywhere! Sweetie would have gasped for air. Regardless if she gasped or not her eyes flung open. Her eyes looked down on her leg. And at the same time she was there. In her leg. Like her consciousness had stretched out and wrapped around every single one of those sensors thingies. She was suddenly aware of her skin in a way she never had before. Of hundred of knots under her skin. Knots that led out to a network of tiny wires that collected information of the outside world in ways of small electrical signal that the sensors translated to data of what her skin was experiencing. All the cold and rain. Every straw that bent in the cold wind. Every drop of rain that made contact with her body. Every speck of dirt and mud that had plastered to fur. Every straw of grass that bent under her hooves. All this energy was then fed back to that part inside her, labeled “Body functions processor.” Sweetie sat still for a moment. Trying and failing to wrap her head around all this. And almost forgetting about the rain as she did. Almost. If she hadn't been shaking like mad. Her body was shaking because of her pistons vibrating. - Her pistons where vibrating because of the shivering sequence. – And the shivering sequence came from the processor. - And the processor sent it because it received information of cold. - And the cold information came from the sensors – and the sensors where connected to knots of nerves that sent electric signals about the rain and the wind hitting her fur and hair and the skin underneath. – the skin that covered all of her body. Almost everything... The sensors in her right foreleg laid dormant. The nerve-knots they were suppose to be connected to having been blown of by a impromptu homemade explosives, and then chewed of again by a wild beast. Sweetie touched her chest, which was neither rising nor falling due to the lack of breath. Her thoughts returned to the events in the river. The memory of when her lungs (or was it airpump?) disconnected due to a “failsafe” appeared in her mind. Where was the failsafe from the rain? How much cold was she supposed to endure before it was deemed to much? What kind of sadistic prick would let her feel like this? Was there no way of triggering the failsafe? Was there no way of turning of the cold? She closed her eyes and focused on that word. Focused with all the burning desire she had to find it. Failsafe. ... Failsafe ... -:: ...Failsafe... ::- -:: ... Scanning ... // ... Scanning ... // Scan complete // Failsafe located ::- True to her suspicions. A part of the failsafe had already been activated in her foreleg. Eager excitement ruched into her. Was this the off switch she wished for? -:: Activate failsafe ::- -:: Systems check // Failsafe levels not reached ::- Oh come on! Just how much cold was she suppose to enure? And Just who programs a little filly to feel such cold anyway? -:: SHUT IT DOWN! SHUT IT ALL DOWN!! ::- -:: Activating failsafe // Selecting sensors … ::- -:: ALL OF IT! ::- -:: Whole body selected // Nerve sensor net entering standby // Exterior sensor grid shutting down ::- Just like that. It disappeared. The cold, the rain, everything. The sensors turned off. Her skin turned off. Like her lungs had done in the river. It was like she had been hit bi an instant-dry spell. Except she did not feel dry. Nothing took the colds place but an emptiness. A sense of something vital was lost. She continued to shake for just a little while. But with the flow of cold information broken her body functions had lost all reasons to be screaming about temperature ans shiver sequences. the voices grew quiet. And her pistons lapped down. She looked up to see the rain still falling. It fell on her open eyes, but she did hot blink. The reflex to pull the protective lid over her eyes were gone. Because she did not feel like there was anything on her eyes. She didn't feel like there was anything on her skin. She didn't feel the cold any more. She rose a hoof to the sky and cried out. “Yeah! Take that weather! Your stupid cold and your stupid rain cant hurt me any more!” Her stomach growled again. It felt like it was tightening into a knot. She thin soup Mr Beaver had provided hadn't satisfied her already empty belly. And it now felt like it was about to curl up into a tight knot. She wanted to go back in and look for a way to stop even this pain, to maybe find a failsafe for her belly ace as well, when a primal fear stopped her. The fear that all who starve eventually receive. The fear of just how much longer they can go on without perishing. She knew that everypony needed to eat in order to have the energy to do anything. Biology lessons in school had covered this. Food became energy. Even robots had to eat at some point right? Or should she say refuel? If she did not refuel she would surely collapse. How long could she go before that happened? How much further could her body carry her before she ran out of energy? And how much energy did she have left in her? Maybe her stomach rumbles was her body's way of saying she needed to refuel. And if she turned of that and just went, how long before she succumb to energy loss? She did not want to find out how it felt when her body ran out of energy. And she was even less curious about what happened then. What if she shut down here in the middle of the woods? Where no pony would ever find her! Would she just lie here in the wet grass unable to move. Paralyzed. Trapped in the shell of her own nonfunctional body! Forever! That thought was far to scary to prioritize her own comfort over. As much as she wanted to turn off that feeling, she didn't dare. If she didn't eat she would surely collapse. She had to eat, or refuel ... but with what? She was not a Bloodbot. She didn't run on pony blood. Not as far as she knew any way. But what did she run on? Food and water seemed like the obvious answer. It was the only thing she had been eating her entire life. And cake. And ice cream. And candy. Lots of candy. Maybe she ran on sugar? Maybe that was why she was so sweet. She tried to smile at the concept. But it only made her hungrier. Still. It would be funny if she ran on sugar. That would make her the Sweetest little bot ever. Sweetie ... Bot? Sweetie … Sweet ... was that where her name came from? But where would she get something to eat? There was nothing in the forest to sustain her but grass on the ground and the water in the puddles. She could not find a single flower, leaf or berry. All the plant-life had long since wittered. All the trees where bare of leaves, and the bushes had been picked clean by animals preparing for winter. She couldn't even find any running rivers. Not even the smallest stream. She tried to push the thought of food out of her mind and pushed on through the forest. But it wasn't long before hunger pushed its way back. And without the cold there was little to distract her from her belly's roars. When hunger and thirst became to much she looked down to the grass beneath her hooves. She had not payed much attention to pre-Equestrian history class. But presumably there was a time before civilization when ponies ate grass and lived in caves. Those lucky bastards. At least they had a cave over their head. Presumably a fire to warm themselves by, and a family to be with.... Family... Hunger made her crave for a family. For anypony to just give her something to eat. Just give her something to warm herself by Just something to get her out of this Celestia forsaken rain! She tried to resist the urge but hunger became too strong. Stronger than the fear of getting sick. Robots couldn't even get sick right? So there was no harm in trying. Without further adieu she bent her head down and clenched her teeth around a tuft of wet grass. The grass tasted foul and bitter. But she forced herself to chew and swallow until she could feel her tongue burn. She tried to wash it out with the water in a big puddle. But that only made it worse. A burning pain was building in her throat. Like the grass was on its way up. Why? Why did it hurt so much to eat? Just who programs a robot to need to eat anyway!? Furthermore who would programs a robot to puke? Maybe it was part of the fun of a living doll. Forever a foal that ate and puked and pissed itself so the play pretend parents could have the joy of taking care of it. Right now she would be Someponys toy forever if she could just get them to take care of her. Being a toy could not be so bad. At least they got fed and nursed and … -:: Hazardous substance detected // Flushing system ::- Her belly rebelled against the unfamiliar substance. She bent over and puked where she was standing. And with the last contents of her stomach she lost her last ounce of strength. She collapsed next to the puddle of her own puke. Her legs would no longer carry her. She was so tired from having skipped sleep in her run from Beavers hut. And with the hunger and cold gone, there where nothing to distract her from how tired she was. How long was it since she had slept? At least a whole day and night. She had not slept since she had woken up that horrible school day that marked the beginning of a new week. At least she had lost her urge to eat. She remained lying in the grass. Not feeling the rain on her fur or the cold from the ground. Neither feeling any cramp or hunger in her belly. What she did feel was exhaustion. She must have been walking and running the entire night. She didn't feel like she had the strength to get up. She didn't even have strength enough to cry over her miserable situation. And if she did cry, any tears went unnoticed into her already rain soaked fur. A rain she could only hear as it pattered callously in her ear. She was separated from it all. The damp ground. The wet grass, the chilly wind and ant the pattering rain. Separated by the shell that was her own body that she had retreated down into. It was not a warm place. But it was at least not cold. The sound of rain eventually shifted to to that of drippings in a puddle, as her upwards facing ear filled with rainwater. It was so smooth and calming and made her think about dew drops falling into a pond. -:: … Entering sleep mode ... ::- *** Sweetie was standing in front of a gigantic control panel. A wall of metal and wires, filled with lights and buttons. Row upon row of switches and breakers on top of each other stretching up and up so high that it disappeared out of sight. On the center of the wall, High up but still within eyesight, was a sign. A sign the size of a billboard, that with big letters said "Power consumption". On the left and on the right of the sign were clocks with to many digits, symbols and to many pointers. Pointers that constantly ticked backwards in an finite tone. Every button had a light above it that shone ominously red, and together they painted the world so bright it was like a mist of blood. And the wall itself gave a somber electrical hum so loud that it seemed to vibrate the air. The whole machine was disturbing Sweeties rest, bringing her to unrest. She walked up to the wall, to the first row of switches that were the only row she could reach. along this road there were several lights that were out and several buttons flipped down. The wall did not hum as loud in these parts. Every switch were twice as big as she was. Every button had a knob leaning out over her head like a thick springboard into a pool. And from every knob hung a sigh. From this one, just above her eye level, It read out "snot production." To her left, were the buttons that were flipped down she saw sign like "Skin" - "Shivers" and "Lungs". To her right, where the buttons were flipped up. She saw signs like "Hoarse throat" - "Nervecluster" and "Lactic acid" She looked back up ad the knob above her, steadied herself and leaped up. She got her forehooves over the edge of the knob, but was unable to pull herself up. There was little else she could do but kick with her dangling backlegs. But the button gave way to the weight of her body, and began to descend. Sweetie hung on till her backhooves touched ground again, and was able to push the knob the rest of the way. The red light above it went out. An the wall seemed to slow in its humming tune. Sweetie moved on along the bottom row. Repeating the process on every switch but a few. Things like "Belly" and "Heartbeat" she left undisturbed. They seemed too important to touch. While things like "Nervecluster" and "Sequences" all got the switch. Last but not least she flipped a whole bunch of buttons labeled "Rectal compressor" - "Waste converter" and "Urine distributor" (and other words synonymous with ass) Finally she had flipped every switch deemed unworthy, unnecessary, or just plain useless. With that the hum of the machine wall changed to a more slumberous tone. The ticking of the clocks grew quiet an distant and the light was no longer so strong with most of the lights of down here. With that sweetie could lay down on one of the soft, rubber quilted button knobs and drift away into another dream. *** There stood a stallion at the top of a hill next to the river. A stallion dressed in a long black cape that made him merge with the shadows. He had a hunch a lost soul had crossed this river. A soul he had come to claim. From the hill he had a good look of the sawmill down below. There he waited patiently for his partner to return, Hopefully with words of her whereabouts. His partner had thought this place a dead end. But even so they should ask. Even if she wasn't here she had to be somewhere in these woods. And he suspected that she did not know what she ran on. And even if she did. She would not be able to find it out in this forest. If so it would not be long until she ran out of energy. Not with all the power her mad dash from the village must have consumed. Her body would shut down and she would (for a lack of better word) fall asleep. Hopefully he would find her like that. Peacefully put to sleep. It would be easy to finish it then. And she would get to pass peacefully into the ever after. Quiet and peacefully. As it should be. As every mortal pony deserved. The ethereal rest. The thought filled him with a blissful ease that sent an electrical tingle down his spine and out his forelegs. He touched his forehooves together, and a spark jumped between them. A small bolt of lightning ran between his hooves as he pulled them apart. It sparked as the rain fell upon it. But did not disappeared until he broke the flow himself. Yes. With these hooves he would do what he should have done so long ago. Not that his partner would let him. He served a different master. A false master. Prestige had been akin to be discreet as his master had ordered him. Shockwave didn't care much for Prism's master. He served the one true master. The master of all of ponykind. Their divine ruler and paragon. Just thinking about her filled him with a warm feeling. Such was the way of Celestia. Just thinking about her filled you with her warmth. It was a warmth he had been denied for so long. After he joined with Prism and his ilk. Joined with the false master. Why had he done it? Out of Pride? Out of greed? It did no longer matter. He had broken every code of practice. And in return she had turned her gaze from him. After realizing his mistake he had chosen a life in solitude, as the sole operator on an remote lightning catching power plant. The job suited him and his talent well. There he made a shrine to her holiness and prayed everyday for forgiveness for the life he had taken from her. Never expecting an answer. He had been prepared to live out his life, unforgiven, grounded, in isolation. But his prays must have been heard, for finally he had gotten his chance at redemption. A chance to do right where he once wronged so bad. He raised his head to the sun and let the rain fall on his face. These clouds were loaded, and a storm would soon break out. He could feel it in his wingtips. The rain had come like a gift from her graze. For it made it easy to move in the strange town without drawing attention. It was easy to stake out a town when nopony wanted to step outside. But it had also been a double edged sword. For the rain formed at curtain that made it hard to see. And in that curtain she had been lost. They had been outside that Boutique. Debating on when best to get her. When a scream and a crash draw their attention. not being one to ignore calls for help he had flown over, and seen her run from the Boutique. It could have been over then and there. He could have caught her and ended it. But alas his wings had failed him. Years at the power plant had not helped his stamina. And their target had vanished behind the weather-curtain. She had moved like a pony possessed. Never had he seen a filly - or any pony - move that fast. He did not know what parts they had put in her. But they clearly far exceeded the limits of a normal pony. Limits she wasn't suppose to be able to break. The machine in her must have awakened. A beast they had sought to restrain. A creature they should not have made in the first place. At least he had been able to see which road she took. The only road leading straight west. into these woods. Their plan was to follow her trail, and doing so had brought the two of them here. A dead end at a dead saw mill. He at first thought the whole area was abandoned, till they saw the light in the small cabin. With no other options it was time to ask. Ask and pray. His prays were interrupted by the sound of hooves coming at him. From the rainy curtain emerged the dark blue shape of his partner. A small magic aura, as white as his mane, was emitting light from his horn. In the light he could see that his partners face had been grazed with a larger than average hoofmark. Nicely encapsulating a black eye on his left. "Had they seen her?" His partner merely grunted in response. But nodded. "Thought I were her father." "And?" "She's not here any more." Was the terse response. A response that meant there was no need for further questions. Prestige did not make a good conversationalist at the best of times. He could not have left a good father impression on the residences if he was greeted in such a way. Still. Surely such a prestige filled stallion like himself could not fail to convince these humble ponies of their goal. Prestige was after all his name. "So where did she go?" Prestige simply gave him a terse look and pointed to his left eye. The Pegasus could not help but smirk. Such should be the sinners reward. And in truth, apart from the hoofmark encapsulating it. His left blackened eye was not so different from his right. Prestige's eyes had always been unusually dark, yet at the same time clear as a prism. Which was, after all, the second part of his name. Prism Prestige. Still, it was disappointing that their prays had been answered with nothing more than a hoof to the face. though perhaps not surprising. Given Prestige's lack of charisma. And his persistence to be so discreet. Still it was a bit upsetting that he could get no more information out of these humble ponies. Without directions they had the whole forest in front of them. A forest that covered a good chunk of Equestria's western map. And she was but a tiny tiny dot on that map. A lost soul now wandering lost in that forest. Trapped in that hideous body of her. No. The time for clear speech had come If they where to find her and end her suffering. “Let me talk to them. Surely these humble ponies will be able to understand our quest.” With that he put down his robe, and spread his wings to gracefully glide down the hill, right to the cabin door. *** Prism rubbed his left eye as he waited. He hated waiting. In truth he wanted nothing more than to go back down there and give that brute of a brown stallion back for having marked his perfect deep blue hide like this. He should pry every piece of information out of that dirty earth pony and his son. They were holding back vital information. They had more then just seen that little white tool. They were covering her. Or would have if she was still here. He had seen in in them. Just like he saw everything. Ponies were so easy to read. His prism clear eyes saw everything. And now that dirty earth pony had put his muddy hoof on one of them. For that reason alone he wanted them to suffer. And he would have if not for his piss yellow pony-feathered partner did not get in his way with his preaching about not hurting the innocent and staining their souls further. That shocking shake had simply been enough to make him agree not to storm the Boutique and take what was theirs by force. It was not surprising that his name was "Shockwave." The waves that piss yellow pegasus could send through you was enough to make the average pony plead in obedience. Not that Prism was average. He was far above it. He was perfect. His name was Prestige, the very word implied perfection. His attitude had once earned him the nickname 'Pretentious Pete' in school. Not that he cared. It was not his fault he was better than everypony else. And he got back at all the imperfect once by being just that. Better. Everypony else was a imperfect compared to him. Already before getting his mark he knew he was special. Teachers and others would have them believe that until getting your mark, you were all like rough diamonds. He knew better – they where dirt. Imperfect beings that had been branded with marks of their own imperfection. While his own mark was the symbol of his perfection. A prism. Splicing the very light into a rainbow. A symbol that said he could take what some deemed Celestia's domain and break it down. Make it into something new. And that's what he did. With the help of his master and a few others like his current companion. He knew he would have done fine without their help. But the boss insisted. And her word was law. He scratched the back of his head. even after all these years he could feel it. The gift he had gotten from his master. The thing of her creation that had made him into an even better pony. Sometime that should have been impossible. Yet she had done it. She had found a way to refine the already perfectly cut diamond that he was. And for that he owed her everything. For her sake he had chased the treacherous Belle's over the planet. To take back what they stole. But he had found that they did no longer posses the thing he sought. So he had resorted to following them. Knowing that they one day must return to their precious little prize. He did so for some time before they came to this little hole called Ponyville. Imagine his joy when he learned that their little Daughter lived in town. Finally his years of tracking was gonna pay of. Finding out where she lived had been surprisingly easy for somepony who had been staying hidden for the better part of their life. Nopony questioned a couple of strangers moving into the same motel as the elder pair. Nopony where gonna ask about the tourists sightseeing the town. Some simple eavesdropping had revealed that their daughter was the town tanner. And her Boutique had been easy to find. Such a waste of talent. He thought. That little mare was of a rare breed. Almost as perfect as him. He would have asked her to be his wife had she only been older when they first met. Before he realized there was another meant for him. The mare for whom he had agreed to work with that piss yellow Pegasus. The feather brain that had held him back from going into that Boutique. Still. The masters word was his law. And he was forced to admit the guy was useful for a few things (shocking notwithstanding). Besides, every genius needed a few lackeys to do the dirty work. Just like Shockwave. That fool you could always leave on the worst rainy scouting duty, and he would gladly accept it. Not that Prism had shied away from his own duties. His master wasted her stolen property back. And she was finally gonna get it. In time for Hearth's Warming Eve as well. How poetic. Just thinking about his master warmed his heart. After he had gotten their little prototype back they could finally get married, refine their business, and have all the foals they wanted. Foals that would be as perfect as they wanted them to be. Prism was woken from his thoughts by rustling in the bushes behind him. he turned to see Shockwave emerge from the thorns. Remarkably that he came from behind. Shockwave was panting and out of breath. Clearly he'd been forced to make a run for it, and not wanted to lead his pursuers back to his equally unwelcome partner. Prism smirked a the sight of a black eye encapsulated with an larger then average hoofprint upon the right side of his yellow face. Clearly only Shockwaves wings had saved him from further blows. “Forgive these simple ponies. They know not what they do.” His yellow partner said in his usual pretentious tone. *** Unbeknownst to them. A Rare breeded mare had also taken up chase.