“We have to go rescue Tin Mare,” Braeburn insisted.
“Didn’t you hear? The position was overrun by the main body of the Commie army,” I reminded him. “We held off a scouting force here and it cost us most of our ammo. They have to know where we are now and are coming this way. We’re going to pull back to Ponyville and rearm.”
“But we can’t just abandon her!”
“Look, I don’t like it either, and once this is all over, we’ll go looking. But she threw herself into the fire to save Guinness. It’s what she was made to do. It’s terrible, and I do genuinely feel bad, but us going head-on at an army of thousands to see if she’s still alive would be stupid. Even she would say it was stupid.”
Braeburn stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t care.”
I stared at him right back. “Wow, I feel really conflicted about this. On the one hand it would be a dick move of me to deny such burning passion, but on the other, you’ve got the hots for a robot.”
Braeburn turned and began stomping away.
“Hey, wait!” I called. He turned. I grabbed a piece of equipment out of the makeshift command center of Applejack’s tank. I brought it over. “Stand still.”
Braeburn looked uncomfortable as I popped open the front panel of his metal chest cavity, but a quick few connections later, I was done and closed him back up.
“What did you do?”
“That’s a locator beacon,” I said. “I hooked it up to your power supply. It should track on Tin Mare.”
He gave me a look that I guessed was slightly less hostile than before. Hard to tell with his cyborg vision visor. He turned and walked down the hill.
I turned to the others and made circles in the air with my hoof. “All right, let’s move out. Back to Ponyville to rearm and dig in.”
“Are we having the final battle there?” Trixie asked.
“That’s the idea. Probably their idea, too. Final battles always happen in Ponyville.”
“Except that one time it happened in Canterlot,” Applejack pointed out.
“The exception that proves the rule,” I said.
“I’ve never understood that expression,” said Rarity. “If there are exceptions, it’s not a very good rule.”
“But surely you see the preponderance of the data is skewed heavily towards Ponyville as a chosen location of strife,” I argued.
“And how,” contributed Pinkie.
All of them mounted up. I hated to abandon our strategic outpost on the hills, but despite the location, we wouldn’t be able to hold it without supplies.
On the way back to Ponyville, I planned the forthcoming battle. With more ammo and knowledge of the terrain we’d have a better chance. Tin Mare’s attack had definitely bought us some time. We’d have maybe one more day to prepare.
Civilian casualties were to be expected, but perhaps we could use that to our advantage. Not that we were intentionally going to use pony shields or anything, but if the enemy wanted to waste their effort attacking noncombatants that was no skin off my nose. I can be a very uncaring God. Got to go for realism, I always say.
Rolling back into town, we raided the warehouse for ammo. When every chamber and magazine was full, we took stock.
“You know what would really help?” I said. “If we organized some sort of benefit event. I mean, it’s a given that the town is going to get trashed. We might as well plan ahead.”
Twilight sighed. “Given the track record of villains around here, that might be true.”
An event in town center would also distract attention from our fighting forces. But if I said that, Twilight would probably freak out or something.
We quickly threw together the so-called Helping Hooves music festival. Applejack handled the construction of the main stage and event center and managed the schedule. Pinkie went to round up last-minute guests.
She came bouncing back into our midst. “I have the most amazing news ever! It’s totally going to freak your frizz! I managed to book the biggest pop star in all of Equestria!”
“Me?” I said.
As planned, the conversation came to a screeching halt.
“What are you talking about?” Twilight demanded. “I know you can’t sing.”
“Yeah, but I can play keytar. That adds another layer to my already hextuple threat.”
“I don’t even…” Twilight shook her head.
“It’s Countess Coloratura!” Pinkie announced.
“Who?” said Applejack.
“Only the biggest pony pop star in all of Equestria!” Pinkie gasped. “How have you not heard of her?”
“Well now, I ain’t exactly a pop music fan. Though I did know a gal named Coloratura when I was just a filly.” Applejack laughed. “Wouldn't it just be the funniest thing if that Coloratura and this Coloratura were the same Coloratura?”
“Not really,” I said. “Because there are no coincidences in Equestria.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you actually know Countess Coloratura?” Pinkie shouted. “Do you have any idea the number of hoops I had to jump through to get her to perform at the festival? A whole lot of hoops! That pony is very demanding!”
“I completely understand,” said Rarity. “We artistes require certain necessities in order to do our best work.”
You might say that Rarity’s comment colored my perception of the so-called Countess Coloratura. I wondered what Cheerilee would think.
“I don’t care,” she said when I told her. “Just because I sometimes call myself a Countess as part of a cover identity doesn’t mean I have any interest in pop stars.”
“That’s what I thought you would say. Now, what do you think about an advancing army of equals-sign cutie mark ponies about to attack Ponyville?”
Cheerilee’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”
“Oh, bombed them a little and went on an expedition that destroyed one of their scouting parties so they aren’t at full strength anymore. But they’re still coming and I’m sure the Princesses would like them stopped.”
Cheerilee glared at me, but I wasn’t directly asking her to do anything, so she would probably check with the powers that be and then probably kick some ass. And if she knew that I knew that she didn’t know I was manipulating her she wouldn’t be pleased.
I walked through the center of town. Pinkie was freaking out about something. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get freshly picked cherries from Cherry Jubilee’s farm when she lives in Dodge Junction and has been dead for weeks? Or Appleoosan Oats when Appleoosa is still getting back on its feet from being destroyed? Or an entire trainload of walnuts?”
Pinkie was apparently right when she said Coloratura was demanding.
And speaking of Coloratura, she showed up in town inside a polygon.
“The hell is that?” I said, mostly to myself because no one else was around.
When smoke rolled out and a mare who was apparently Coloratura stepped down accompanied by half a dozen edgy-looking ponies, I added, “The hell is this?”
“Countess Coloratura is only the most famous pop star in Equestria,” said a stallion in a suit, voice dripping with pompousness.
“The hell are you?”
“My name is Svengallop, manager for Countess Coloratura.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Whatever.”
He frowned at me. “That should mean something. Is everypony in this podunk town as ignorant and simple as you?”
“Ignorant and simple?” I don’t know why, but I took special offense to that. It’s not like I wasn’t running the war against Equestria’s greatest enemy and simultaneously being God.
“Ignorant and simple,” I repeated. I turned my head and whistled. “Hey Cordoba! Come castrate this fool.”
“What?” he demanded. “What are you-”
Cordoba came from the sky, landing behind him. She’d started to lift his tail before he realized the full extent of my words.
“Stop!” he screeched. “Why are you doing this?” His last few words were a little garbled because I’d wrapped him up in a headlock.
“I don’t like you,” I said. “So we’re cutting your nuts off.”
Ponies in the street around us stared as Cordoba and I worked on it in the middle of the street.. She was pretty handy with her cutlass, but it wasn’t exactly a precision instrument.
Working on “it,” by the way can refer to both the job and Svengallop’s new gender. See what I did there?
While we were busy, Coloratura was meeting the locals and giving them hoof-shaped stamps on the face. Apparently this was a thing.
The girls were all caught up in it. As things turned out, this actually was the same pony Applejack remembered.
Coloratura started getting tuned up for the show. It wasn’t an official performance, but the girls seemed to enjoy the brief concert. Pinkie had a beverage and was sipping on it with an assortment of straws.
She waved at me as I came over. “Valiant! Look at all my straws! I call this one Fernando.”
“Don’t call my name,” I said.
“Oh, why not?” she asked.
“Now Svengallop might go from calling me a psychopath to calling me Valiant. He really seemed to think it was important to know who maimed him.”
“Did I hear something about Svengallop being hurt?” asked Coloratura from the stage. She’d apparently overheard during a pause between songs.
“He lost his testicles,” I said. “Are you sure you want someone that forgetful managing you?”
She frowned. “But without a manager how am I supposed to keep track of every event I attend?”
“I have your itinerary right here,” offered Pinkie.
“And I managed the organization of this here music festival, so I can probably help you manage your schedule,” Applejack offered.
“Well, okay, AJ,” said Coloratura. “I know this charity event is important to us all.”
They went to the next event, at the school apparently. I headed for my place and checked in. Sunset had been keeping an eye on things from the control center there.
“Guinness is back,” she said. “In one piece, too.”
“Good. I’ll have to go debrief him. Talk to him about the mission, too.”
I looked around the shop. There were bits and pieces here and there that I’d really like to get working in time for the battle. Like the 30mm gatling cannon in the corner. But if we were expecting the army to arrive soon there wasn’t time.
I left and headed over to the Half Pint. Guinness was there, looking tired but happy to be back to doing something mundane like washing glasses.
I sat down at the bar. He came over and poured me tequila. I asked, “So what did you learn about the McEqualsign douchebags?”
“They’re persistent,” he said. “If they were pushing a specific form of government, I’d even agree with you in calling them Communists. I’m surprised that they’ve collected such a large following already.”
“Well, they had to find so many like-minded ponies somewhere. Maybe they have conventions for this kind of thing.” I smiled. “Commie Con.”
“Are you literally planning to kill them all?” he asked. “That seems like a tall order. Plus, there have to be a few of them who are having reservations.”
“Well, what do you propose? Some kind of place where they can go to be rehabilitated in a safe environment? Perhaps outdoors because there’s a lot of them, someplace where they can get some fresh air. Like a camp, maybe. A camp where they can concentrate on not being such bad ponies.”
Guinness rolled his eyes. Back to a more serious note, he suggested, “We could send them somewhere else and let them manage themselves. A penal colony.”
“As long as it isn’t a penile colony.” I decided to change the subject back to the army’s prowess. “So what did you see out there? They started blinding my sensors.”
“They’ve got reasonable small unit tactics,” Guinness said. “They’re less apt with strategic movements.”
“They probably don’t have anypony with experience as a General,” I noted.
“Thank God,” he said.
You’re welcome, said a recording of my voice.
Guinness looked around and then stared at me. I shrugged. “I’m trying out some work-saving techniques.”
He shook his head. I finished my tequila and stepped out the door.
I frowned, staring at the ground. While I’d been inside the pub, someone had scratched various runes, both Angelic and Satanic, on the ground. Stepping carefully, I avoided them.
However, with my attention on the ground, I didn’t notice the train car that was about to land on me until it did.
It’s kind of an unexpected thing to get a multi-ton object dropped on you in the middle of town. That would have been bad enough. What made it worse was the fact that the car was full of shelled walnuts.
I stumbled out of the wreckage already beginning to wheeze in allergic reaction. In stumbling, I didn’t notice that I’d stepped into a mass of runes until I found it quite difficult to lift my hooves.
Guinness burst out of the pub, probably wondering what that loud crash was. “Hey,” he called. “Is everypony okay?”
I managed, “When I find out who did this-”
That’s when Starlight Glimmer teleported in, looking quite pleased with herself. Also, the grey tank came rolling down the street and a figure cloaked in an evil red glow began to rise from a nearby circle of runes.
All three parties looked a little surprised to see each other. The tank spoke. “While we may have our differences, I might suggest that we put those aside for the time being considering the circumstances.”
“Sure,” I said. “You take the one on the right.”
“I was not speaking to you,” it replied.
“Oh. Oh.” I looked at the three of them. “So that’s how this is going to be. Do you have any idea who I am? I’ve got training, experience, and all kinds of tricks for a situation like this.”
Speaking of tricks, Trixie showed up just then, down the street. Sunset and Cordoba were with her, and the rest of the girls not far behind.
More confident now, I went on. “So you three think you have what it takes? Well, y’all ready for this?”
Nothing happened. Starlight smirked. “I took the liberty of stripping you of anything that makes you special.”
“Oh shit, they were ready for that,” I muttered under my breath. In a louder voice, I said, “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
The tank spoke. “I am the Recording Angel of Heaven. I am the representative of the Word of the one true God.”
“Oh!” Guinness clopped his hoof to his forehead. “I get it now!”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
He grinned. “As a Catholic and a nerd, I think I’m uniquely qualified to explain the situation. This isn’t Megatron. It’s Metatron.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“It is my name,” the tank confirmed, steering the conversation back on topic. “I took this form in order to blend in in this town while I saw for myself your deeds and decided your sentence.”
“Blend in?” I said. “What, did you misidentify the dominant life form on this planet?”
“Silence him,” said Metatron.
The nearby demon kicked me in the face, knocking me flat against the wall of the nearby building and spiking each of my limbs solidly in place. Blood instantly started to pour.
Hurt doesn’t begin to describe it.
Joke’s on them, though. It didn’t silence me at all.
Between screams, I managed to ask, “So is this whole position with me vertical and forelimbs outstretched to either side coincidence, or something?”
“It is standard procedure,” said Metatron.
Down the street, through my blurry allergic vision, I saw Twilight’s eyes open wide. I managed to work in one grin between screams, just for her. Yep, getting crucified just like the messiah.
From somewhere, I heard a piano and singing. “Equestria, the land I love. A land of harmony. Our flag does wave from high above…” Were they playing the national anthem? Freaking now of all times?
When I turned my head back, the end of the tank’s cannon touched my chest. As well as I was able, I made rude gestures.
“Darkness is washed away by the light and so too we take action to wash away those that threaten the very balance of existence. In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, Satan, concerned citizens, PETA, et al…”
“…amen.”