Cigarettes & Gunmetal

by MonoGlyph

Nox Aeterna (Act Two)

Her world was nothing but the deafening roar as the shuttle came ashore upon the new earth. Metal screamed, folded on itself, collapsed in a tortured cacophony, more than a little startling after the Geiger-textured silence ad interim. At some point during the voyage, the younger mare became restless, crawled toward the rear of the transport and shattered the crackling machine with a silver-plated engineering appliance. And now, the screeching subsided and all that remained was the hiss of molten featherstahl. The younger mare stirred in her seat. She was still alive, though her mounting radiation sickness ensured that she wouldn’t survive for much longer.

The former Princess gazed upon her shivering cohort with pity but knew that it had to be this way; this was no fault of her own. Her treacherous elder sister was to blame, and soon she too would sail the fiery waters of Phlegethon. She too would taste the blood of the legion of dead that lay buried in shallow graves across her kingdom. History would see Luna, the Princess of the Night, as the savior of this decaying world.

The emergency hatch shuddered and unlocked. Luna grabbed hold of the handle and tried to brace herself for what lay beyond. Taking one last deep breath, she pulled on the latch and shouldered the damaged door open.

A vast plaza… This was the field where the last remnants of her old guard fell.

Thestrals shouting around her, silenced one by one. Their last stand is ill-fated: the honest steel of their glaives and swords is no match for the motor-operated siege weaponry that bears down upon them. Their manually-drawn bows can’t compete with the automatic fire of anthroid-designed firearms. These new weapons are still primitive and not yet widely spread among the Solar Legion, but are effective and numerous enough to tip the odds in its favor. Princess Luna can do naught but watch from her hastily-constructed bunker as her faithful are decimated by high-velocity lead and devastating artillery fire.

At the two-hour mark, Princess Celestia enters the bunker, accompanied by an armed escort. Her casual gait would be more appropriate for crossing the pristine palace floors during the gala than the blood-soaked stage of a martial slaughter. Her brilliant eyes, now dyed liquid gold, coolly pin her younger sister in place. They are distant and emotionless, unmarked even by the smirk smeared across her lips. Her voice chills Luna’s blood.

“The steel-shod boots of progress march on, my dearest. Our only recourse is to join in, or be trampled underfoot.”

The Princess of the Night trembles, but her answer is one of outrage.

“You’re mad! You’ve widowed countless thousands, orphaned twice that number and torn our very kingdom asunder… just to prove a point?! How can you consider this just? How can you condone such progress,” the word tastes bitter on her tongue, “if its price is so steep?”

Celestia draws closer and caresses her cheek. The echoes of sisterly intimacy, here of all places, provoke a disgusted shudder.

“You are much too young yet,” Celestia says evenly. “Your naïveté, charming though it may be, isn’t welcome in the royal court. You’ve seen how wary our peers are of you, and this childish tantrum of yours won’t help your case.”

She turned away. Luna entertained some ideation of attacking her while her back was turned, but had to hold her urges in check. It was obviously a calculated gesture: Celestia didn’t view her as enough of a threat to warrant her full attention. She was always considerably more magically talented, after all. And even were Luna to somehow overcome her sister, there was still the matter of the Solar Escort.

“It’s possible that our neighbors will take advantage of Equestria’s weakened state in the wake of a civil war. A united front is essential if our nation is to continue to exist.” Celestia looked sidewise at her. “Therefore, I think it would be for the best if you were to leave the royal court for a time. This is for your own good as much as for that of our kingdom, you understand.”

That last spoken line sounded in Luna’s mind as she looked upon the brave new world that developed in her absence.

In the distance, cyclopean towers loomed hundreds of stories high, glimmering coldly. Where once there were simple family-owned bakeries, hard-working blacksmiths and inns offering warmth and sympathetic company, now stood massive gravestone-like structures streaked with harsh neon light, advertising illicit pleasures. The night sky was scarred with choking smog and crowded with glowing air vehicles, swarming like hornets. There were no trees in sight, nor birdsong in the air, only lifeless stretches of smooth black stone where once stood mighty forests.

Closer to the shuttle, ponies were running and screaming, presumably under the assumption that this was some kind of aerial attack. In the midst of the panicking mob, she saw a few individuals that had stopped and were watching her curiously. A number of them had visible artificial implants. Mechanical legs, wings, metallic protrusions around the ears and head. Tastelessly revealing clothing, face paint, garish saddlebags and purses.

By the merciful Moon, what was this place? How could everything have turned so alien, so wrong in a paltry two centuries? She felt the bitter tears running over her sunken cheeks, felt her chest heave with uncontrolled sobs. A voice echoed over the plaza and she realized with a start that it was her own.

“The Earth gave unto you, misguided foals, took you into her bosom and provided you with all that you might need! And you, overcome with pride and unjust entitlement, took until there was nothing left! The old ones have led you astray, and if you continue along this path you will all perish and disappear as they did!”

She took a shallow breath.

“Rejoice, for the Lunar Princess has returned! Repent, for your folly can still be undone! Nox Aeterna! The natural order!”

The darkness gathered around her and enveloped her like a shroud. She rode it west, to the Everfree. To meet with her new followers, as was preordained.

The Children of the Night, her children, awaited her.

Smoke spilled from the fallen shuttle and trailed into the sky like a beacon, a bonfire to honor a pagan ritual of festivity, possibly cannibalism. Shining Armor pushed through the group of rubberneckers, followed closely by Twilight and Fluttershy, her cantankerous hare perched on her back.

The shuttle lay in a smoking crater among broken stalls and the burning remains of a public postings board. Although the emergency hatch was open, nobody among the crowd had yet been bold enough to venture inside—the interior radiated sufficient heat to singe one’s eyebrows. Shining Armor’s coat glowed slightly as he entered the vehicle, though the effect was subtle enough to be mistaken for a reflective sheen. Fluttershy nudged Twilight with a hesitant forehoof.

“Should he have…? I mean, it’s so hot in there, is he going to be okay?”

Twilight gave a disinterested nod. “That was a localized temperature-management charm he cast just now. It should keep his coat from catching fire while he’s in there.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy idly wondered what Shusteht and the rest of her patron spirits would have to say on the subject of unicorn magic.

Shining Armor emerged again no worse for wear, carrying an orange-brown mare clad in a charred vacuum suit. She’d suffered several second-to-third-degree burns and spat out blood-specked vomit when he laid her gently on her side. In Twilight’s educated opinion, it didn’t look like she’d live long enough to be moved to a hospital. She dialed the trauma team on her cell regardless, vaguely disgusted by the lack of initiative the rest of the crowd displayed in doing the same.

“You’ve reached the Ponyville Residential District’s resident trauma response unit. Please describe your emergency,” said a CG likeness of a stallion on the screen of her phone.

“Crashed aerial vehicle in the middle of the Folk Bazaar,” she muttered. “One survivor, badly burned, looks to be suffering from internal bleeding. Other conditions unknown.”

“Understood,” the artificial stallion said smoothly. “An ambulatory unit will be dispatched to the site immediately.”

The pilot mare opened her mouth again. Twilight cut the call and looked at her expectantly.

“M-moon…” she stuttered, almost choking. “Moon.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Twilight.

Shining shot her a disapproving look and gently but firmly pushed her away from the pilot. “Give her some breathing room.”

She heard some commotion in the crowd behind her and turned to investigate. The next few seconds were a blur. A hooded stallion broke from the mob and sprinted toward her.

“Nox Aeterna! Death to the Sun!”

The silver moonlight winked on the steel of his right foreleg—a leg-mounted dagger slipping from its inset sheath with a quiet click. Shining Armor’s gentle push turned into a violent shove as he threw her out of the assassin’s path. The dagger-wielding stallion slid on his horseshoes trying to adjust his trajectory and Shining moved to intercept. The dagger snapped out of its sheath and skipped harmlessly over the pavement as Shining disarmed the stallion with his magic and wrestled him to the ground, making use of body weight and a pragmatic chokehold.

Twilight exhaled but her relief proved to be short-lived: another stallion emerged from the crowd, clutching the grip of a vibroblade katana in his teeth. The crowd parted to give the stallion a wide berth as the blade blurred with a mechanical whine.

Shit. The bastard had a partner.

Fluttershy stepped behind her, cowering among the bystanders. It occurred to Twilight that—seeing that Shining Armor was still preoccupied with the other stallion—she might actually have to defend herself this time.

Okay… Let’s see if we’ve learned anything from those drills, shall we?

Unlike his partner, the newcomer didn’t speak—couldn’t, without losing his sword. He charged toward her, his blade dancing hazily through the evening gloom like a will-o’-the-wisp. Twilight’s bravado promptly disintegrated. This wasn’t like the drills; this was life or death. Panicked thoughts raced through her skull and she could feel herself freezing up.

Sundamn it, I haven’t felt this way since Canterlot…! I’m actually going to die this time, aren’t I? I’m going to die, I’m going to—

Metal on metal, sliding and locking with a dull shink. Twilight realized that her eyes were closed, cursed herself for her own cowardice. When she opened them, she saw that one of the pegasi mares she’d picked out among the crowd earlier was standing in front of her, having just stopped the blade with one of her artificial wings. The stallion gaped at her, dumbstruck.
The pegasus flashed him a razor-toothed grin. “Sorry, pal. Imported Neighponese steel will always play second fiddle to good old fashioned Equestrian ingenuity.”

She slowly started to collapse her trifold wings. Feeling the metal of the katana lock up between the spokes, the stallion desperately tried to pull the blade clear of the machinery. It was too late. The brittle flat of the vibroblade bent and split like a toothpick. She knocked him backwards with a controlled snap of her foreleg. Her conservation of motion suggested martial arts training or a military background. Disoriented from the cranial blow, the stallion wobbled as he raised a leg-mounted pistol that he had seemingly saved as a last resort.

An orange-coated mare wearing a wide-brimmed Stetson materialized behind him and tackled him to the ground before he could fire. Twilight couldn’t quite make out details as the two figures thrashed in the dark. There was the wince-inducing crack of breaking vertebrae, and the stallion abruptly went limp.

The pegasus whistled appreciatively. “Well you didn’t have to kill him, AJ.”

The other mare, presumably AJ, got back on her feet, breathing heavily.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said between breaths. “The barrel of his pistol came up and jabbed me in the eye. I guess I must’ve panicked and overreacted a little.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” said the pegasus with a chuckle. “We’d better get out of here before Lodestar arrives.”

Twilight had regained some of her composure by this point.

“Excuse me,” she burst out.

The pegasus turned and looked at her blankly. “Yeah?”

Her sharp teeth and the glowing red iris of her left eye made Twilight reconsider her decision to address her.

Get a grip. It’s just a pegasus, for fuck’s sake.

“Who are you?” she asked tentatively.

The glare of the smart eye didn’t waver and the facial muscles framing it were equally immobile. Then the pegasus smiled and clapped her lightly on the side, breaking the tension.

“Don’t you worry your pointed little head about that. Also, you’re welcome.”

“Why did you—?”

“I dunno,” she interrupted. “Call it altruism. Call it whatever you want. We’ve got places to be, alright? Catch you on the rebound.”

She was evidently in a rush, and Twilight understood the feeling well enough to respectfully keep questions to a minimum. Trying to convince herself that the answers didn’t matter all that much, anyway.

This is Ponyville, after all. All the freaks come out after dark.

She consigned herself to watching as the two mares, the pegasus and the earth pony, trotted casually away, disappearing into the sea of faces surrounding her tiny island of solitude next to the buckled chassis of the shuttle. Lights flashed in the air above them, bathing the Folk Bazaar in red. Air rushed over and through the crowd, cushioning the stark white transport as it descended. The trauma team had arrived.

The air ambulance hovered on the edge of the crater and several white-clad ponies with silver badges disembarked and picked their way among the rubble. The hooded stallion lay by Shining’s forehooves, unconscious. Shining looked up at her, nodded wearily and set off for the nearest medic to make a report and transfer the hooded stallion to their custody. The peculiar girl with the hare, Fluttershy, was bearing over the pilot’s body when one of the medics shooed her away. Eyeing what remained of the crowd warily, Twilight couldn’t quite stifle a sigh.

Shining was right.

She scooped her phone out of her pocket again, punched in the number for Celestia’s study and held it to her ear, video screen be damned. Having called before on several occasions, she was confident that every phone in the Canterlot palace was an ancient model without video functionality. The ring tone sounded five times before someone picked up. The voice on the other end of the line was even less expressive than the construct that served as the trauma team’s emergency operator.

“Good evening. This is Raven Six, how can I assist you?”

Twilight groaned.

“I didn’t call to talk to one of you Ravens. Give me the Princess.”

“Twilight Sparkle, correct?” If the handmaiden took offense it didn’t register in her voice. “I’m afraid that Her Ladyship is currently preoccupied with other matters. I can relay a message to Her Ladyship at Her earliest convenience, if you like.”

Twilight looked disbelievingly at her phone but the video screen remained dark. “Are you kidding? This is an emergency, Six. There was just an attempt on my life!”

“You have my sincerest condolences,” said the handmaiden flatly.

“Oh good! I might be dead in a few short hours, but at least I have the sympathies of some glorified fucking secretary! That really puts my mind at ease!”

There was a pause. Princess Celestia’s cloned handmaidens understood sarcasm in much the same way that an accountant understood abstract art: they were familiar with the concept, but it fell outside their realm of expertise.

At last Raven Six seemed to decide on the safest course of action regarding the statement, which was to ignore it.

“Will that be all, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight massaged her forehead irritably.

Why do I even bother?

“Yes. That’s all.” She hung up.

Fluttershy seemed to sense her distress. She walked over and put a forehoof companionably on Twilight’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said simply.

Twilight glared. “No thanks to you. What in the depths of Tartarus is going on?”

“The Lunar Princess is back,” answered Fluttershy. “Silver Spanner told me so.”

“Yeah? Is this what you were checking those books out for?” Twilight coughed out a laugh that died out halfway. “You don’t need a book to tell you that Nightmare Moon has been dead since the end of the civil war. This Silver Spanner guy is woefully misinformed.”

“No. She brought Luna here herself.”

“Hold on. Are you talking about the pilot?” Twilight stole a glance back toward the shuttle to see the medics gingerly slide the body onto a stretcher. “The one that’s on her deathbed, here? You’re either bullshitting or delusional.”

Fluttershy didn’t answer.

Twilight took in the scene around them; the trauma team bustled toward the ambulance with the bodies of the pilot and the hit man in tow. Several Lodestar cruisers were dropping to investigate from the swirling maelstrom of flying vehicles overhead. Clouds gathered around the crescent of the moon, growing heavier by the moment. She found herself hoping in a vague way that it wouldn’t rain.

Shining walked back toward them briskly, having hashed out the terms with one of the medics. He looked no worse for wear, despite his impromptu wrestling match with Twilight’s would-be assassin.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked her. “You seem a little worked up.”

“Yeah, a brush with death will do that to a pony. And the Princess refuses to pick up her damn phone,” said Twilight. “You know how aggravating those handmaidens of hers are. On top of all that, this flake,” she pointed at Fluttershy, “is trying to tell me that some two-centuries-dead revolutionary has returned to Equestria on this very shuttle.”

“Which one, specifically?” asked Shining.

Fluttershy hesitated. “Um. Princess Luna.”

“There you go! Princess fucking Luna!” Twilight looked triumphantly back at her brother. The stallion only shrugged.

“Princess Luna was a member of the royal family,” he said. “All-natural alicorn. It’s not impossible that she’d survive two hundred years, and if she did, the Canterlot Underwatch would be the ones to know.”

“Honestly? You’re seriously considering this bullshit?” Twilight asked, scarcely daring to believe her ears.

“I’ll lean on some of my contacts on the inside, see what they have to say about this crash.” Shining nodded toward the shuttle. “Nightmare Moon or not, you don’t see this every day. And you heard what the hood shouted, right? ‘Nox Aeterna’. It sounded like some kind of mantra. Something’s up.”

“Fine, go ahead and just leave me to meet my end at the hooves of some other psychotic anarchist.” Twilight turned resignedly back toward Fluttershy. “Do you have any reason for thinking that the Nightmare’s back? Besides your ‘conversation’ with the pilot?”

“It was… Rarity was the one,” said Fluttershy. “She told me this might happen.”

“Rarity,” Twilight repeated. “The same Rarity that had my name on a shady list?”

Fluttershy nodded.

Twilight drew a laborious breath, exhaled through her nostrils.

That figures.

Rainbow slowed down, nearing a busy intersection. Perhaps ‘busy’ was an understatement. The city streets were choking; congested like the arteries of an obese, middle-aged stallion moments before a heart attack. Irate drivers sounded their horns and screamed obscenities at one another, the sort of pitch, bigoted language that would be liable to get you stabbed in a more isolated setting. Even aerial traffic seemed heavier than usual.

Applejack took the opportunity to close the distance slowly building between them as Rainbow had purposefully led the way, cutting through the evening crowds.

“So why did you save that girl, anyway?” she asked, catching her breath.

“Eh? Why?” Her gaze remained fixed on something ahead. “I just like a fight every so often. Keeps things interesting.”

Applejack waited a few seconds and—when Rainbow made no attempt to elaborate—asked “That’s it?”

“It’s just the way I’m wired, ‘Jack. I think a part of me maybe kinda misses Bridleon.”

Applejack was stunned into silence.

After the draft a decade back, dad never came back from the front lines at all. Big Mac did, but only as a withdrawn shell of his former self. And you… you miss it?

“Where are we going now?” she asked, trying for a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

Rainbow navigated several menus on her NOI to remotely hail a taxi.

“Dunno about you,” she said by way of answering, “But I’m damn curious about that alicorn.”

“Yeah, sure.” Applejack coughed drily onto her forehoof. “You saw it though; vanished without a trace.”

Rainbow looked back, pointing at her glowing left iris with something like dramatic flourish. Applejack had preferred it when the plastic-coated oculus was hidden behind her eyepatch.

“Uh-uh. There’s a trail of positive ions floating overhead like a luminescent cloud. My smart eye has built-in particle filters, and that alicorn was glowing like a Hearth’s Warming pine.”

“Are you saying it was radioactive?” The obvious question escaped her lips before she could lock it down. “Why?”

“Beats me.”

The aerodynamic yellow profile of an aircab stopped above them and began its descent. There was a spark of something in Rainbow’s one good eye, but Applejack—largely out of practice with social matters—couldn’t read it.

“Don’t you want to find out?”

Rarity took a long, discriminating look at the interior of her spacious office closet. After several minutes’ deliberation she withdrew, carrying a conservative petticoat jacket. It was a cut of her own design, though these days fashion design generally took a backseat to her responsibilities as a CEO. She smiled to herself.

Mother was right. The four years I invested in the Canterlot Academy for Design hasn’t really helped me in running her company.

It had been a long, tedious Tuesday. She’d had to postpone her customary appointment at the Gemini Spa to catch up on work. A few worrying headlines on the Grapevine caught her eye as she went about her business that day, but she’d be damned if that was going to stop her from enjoying the evening.

Her desktop phone rang. She sighed, loped tiredly back to the phone and picked up.

“Rarity speaking.”

“It seems that you have visitors, madam,” came Eiffel’s voice.

“Do I really?” she consulted her calendar. “I don’t see anyone scheduled.”

“Yes, madam. They are, how should I put it… Walk-ins.”

Rarity tutted. “You know I don’t tolerate unsolicited visits, Eiffel.”

“Ah, but you see…” He sounded unexpectedly flustered. “We were unsuccessful in barring them entry.”

Rarity hesitated, questioning whether she’d misunderstood. Finally a single word fought its way out from her strangled larynx.

“What.”

Thumping on her door again. She looked up.

A lavender unicorn was knocking on the acrylic glass, accompanied by a familiar pale-coated pegasus.

“Eiffel,” she said impassively into the receiver.

“Yes, madam?” There was a satisfying hint of dread in his voice.

“I think it’s time for a reassessment of Carousel’s security division.”

“Yes, madam.”

The exec, Rarity, greeted them magnanimously enough, but Twilight took note of the exaggerated care she took sitting back down and a subtle undertone of impatience in her voice.

“Good evening, Fluttershy. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. And I see you brought a companion.” Despite the obfuscating insect lenses mounted over the exec’s eyes, Twilight could feel her gaze shift in her direction. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh drop it,” Twilight spat. “You know who I am. Well enough to set contract killers on me.”

Rarity rested her head on a fetlock. Twilight got the impression that even were she able to see the exec’s eyes, they’d be as flat and inexpressive as the lenses that covered them.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me, dear. Carousel Industries has no such contracts pending for the time being. Perhaps if you introduced yourself—” She reached for something on the table.

“Twilight. Sparkle,” Twilight supplied. “Fluttershy told me you were looking for me. Shortly afterwards, I was attacked. Would you have me believe that was just coincidence?”

Rarity took the item between her forehooves, a pack of cigarettes.

“And you came here to confront me?” She seemed amused. “In my very own corporate headquarters?”

“My brother is the captain of the Royal Guard, and he knows I’m here. If I don’t exit this building in one piece, you’ll have the entire Solar Legion knocking at your door.” This was an exaggeration, but Twilight doubted that the exec would take any unnecessary risks.

Rarity turned theatrically to look at the analog clock mounted on her wall. The pendulum swung back and forth and its tick echoed through the office as the seconds wore on. She muttered something under her breath, and Twilight managed to catch the tail end of the thought.

—know the half of it.

Rarity cleared her throat.

“I repeat. No hit men are currently in my employ. Nor the company’s, in any capacity. I will ask that you leave my office, or you will be ejected forcibly.”

Fluttershy finally spoke up.

“Princess Luna is back, just as you said.”

The moment inflated. Even the pendulum seemed to pause. Rarity closed the packet again and stowed it in her desk. When she spoke again, her tone sounded worn.

“I’m leaving for the Gemini Spa. If you wish to continue this conversation, you’re free to join me.”

Twilight and Fluttershy traded glances.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Twilight suspiciously.

“Just that, Miss Sparkle.” Rarity got up from her seat. “If you crave explanations, you may accompany me. If not, go home. Luna’s return isn’t your concern, after all. Either way, I’ve had just about enough of this stifling office for the night.”

Twilight looked incredulously at the exec. The bespectacled unicorn didn’t slow down as she approached the door. Silhouettes of armed security personnel appeared behind the acrylic glass, the same stallions they’d narrowly avoided via the elevator downstairs. If Rarity escaped now, it was unlikely that Twilight would be able to chat with her again for a long time.

Twilight’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Alright, hold on…” Desperation in her voice, despite her best efforts. She gritted her teeth and reigned in her emotion. “Fine. I’ll come along with you to your stupid little spa visit.” The statement seemed surreal, comical in a way.

Fluttershy nodded her assent.

Rarity gestured almost imperceptibly to the guards outside and they vanished.

Just like your self-respect, Twilight noted privately. What little you may have had left.

Comments

[Luna Aeterna Solutae]

sickness insured that
ensured.

"steel toed boots" should be "steel shod hooves"

"The city streets were choking; congested like the arteries of an obese middle-aged stallion moments before a heart attack."
I died.

[Luna Aeterna Solutae]

Yes. I work quickly. Very quickly.

[MonoGlyph]

5055532
Woah there, what makes you think I haven't consulted TVtropes? I most certainly have. That said, I try to do so sparingly. TVtropes will ruin your life™, after all. TVtropes isn't a universal problem solver, and on occasion the information on there might be misleading. Laser wounds aren't usually insta-cauterized, but surgical lasers are definitely a thing and are used in delicate procedures, like eye surgery. Controlled application can vaporize watery tissues and keep bleeding at a minimum. Granted, it's not outright cauterization, but for all I know, there may very well be lasers specifically for that purpose.

So, you know. Context matters.

For example, explosive decompression does happen, even TVtropes says so. Just not to things like humans and ponies. The term 'explosive decompression' is usually employed to refer more to cabins in aircraft than exploding crew members. And the cabins can definitely fly apart if the hole is large enough that the air is trying to escape too quickly. But that doesn't matter, 'cos the hole in the airlock door wasn't enough to trigger one of those, so again, virtuality glitch.

Not trying to one-up you or anything, I just feel obligated to make some of my own corrections after a friend told me to do some fact checking of my own every so often.

[Pinkacalypse]

I await the rest

[Enduring Man-Child]

I don't understand how this fic doesn't have more comments.

I first discovered it at fanfiction.net and I haven't been reading it in order at all. I read the Rarity/Pinkie parts first, then Twilight, then Nox Aeterna, and then Rainbow, Applejack, and finally Fluttershy. This might have been an idea, but I feel quite addicted.

I'm not really familiar with the "cyberpunk" genre, but these characters adapt very well into this futuristic dystopia. (In fact, they adapt very well to any number of non-canon settings--a testimony to what great characters they truly are, as well as to the talents of the authors.) I am really enjoying this so far. I feel like I don't have to understand everything; the situation is simply too alien, and it works better that way.

You are one talented writer. Not only is the plot masterful, but I'm not even catching many spelling and grammar errors, which even greatest tale-weavers can't help but make. And that you draw your own illustrations? Wow. Just...wow.

My only aside comment on this fic is to wonder why so many authors (and artists) are bound and determined to make Rarity a smoker. Oh well. I just hope Sweetie doesn't pick up the habit!