Brain Cancer District (Act Two)
The city streets are as cold as a morgue, but not quite as sanitary. The police cruiser lands atop one of the skyscraper’s touch-down points, spread out about halfway up the structure. The rear gate swings open with a creak and a strike team composed of ten officers trots briskly out into the rain. They are followed by two more ponies; a white-coated youth in traditional Royal Guard garb and a gray, middle-aged stallion wearing a well-used tactical vest and a mustache.
Shining Armor looked over the edge of the platform. Several police-owned land cars were sitting conspicuously around the building, lights alternating red and blue. Twilight was down there somewhere, waiting. To Twilight’s chagrin, Heartland and Shining alike firmly opposed putting the young consultant with no combat training into the field. Doubtlessly paraphrasing some strict parent or teacher of yore, Heartland told her she was lucky to be even this close to the scene. Presently, snipers were getting into positions in the surrounding buildings, trying to cover the windows. They all understood that this tip could very well lead nowhere: if the mysterious individual that contacted Twilight was truly the killer, he could easily be trying to divert police attention from his real target. If they were particularly unfortunate, the whole setup could also have been a trap.
According to city records, this building was just another over-priced hotel, though, unfortunately, the proprietary AI could not be reached for a guest list. This lack of communication was echoed later as the pilot tried to get the all-clear to land. Evidently the sprite in charge of the hotel was unavailable. Something was amiss.
The strike team assembled near the entrance. A single operative cut through the rest, turned, and bucked the ornate double door with a single economic kick. There was a loud crunch as the doors gave and the steel locking mechanism splintered through the side. The hinges squeaked in protest and the portal swung inwards. The strike team entered the landing platform lobby with conditioned finesse, sweeping the corners with the sights of their Levitus assault rifles. Heartland nodded to Shining, and the two entered, following on the heels of the team.
Shining noted that there was no alarm raised over the forced entry but couldn’t imagine that a modern hotel such as this did not have one installed. As he’d come to expect, the elevators were not working.
Gunshots echoed down the stairway.
Heartland activated the team’s broadcast channel on his NOI.
“Graphite! We heard shots fired. Have you encountered hostiles?”
Shining heard the team leader’s response clear in his ear, as though the team leader was addressing him personally.
“Negative. They’re coming from higher up.”
“Any word from our snipers?” he asked.
A nasally voice rang over the line. “Support unit leader Hawk Eye here. We’re seeing what appear to be muzzle flashes four floors above your current position, strike team. Proceed with caution.”
“Acknowledged.”
As Shining and Heartland approached the point of conflict, the building seemed to shudder with every shot fired. The sharp cracks echoed around the narrow confines of the staircase and picked up momentum on their way down. Shining caught eyes tracking their progress behind not-quite-closed doors, and heard worried muttering from the few tenants that were still in the area.
The strike team had piled in front of the doorway on that fourth floor in much the same way as they did before.
“Your orders, sir?” asked Graphite. His tone betrayed nothing. He could have been waiting on a customer at a local restaurant.
“I’d like to avoid any team casualties if at all possible,” said Heartland. “Incapacitator ammo only.”
There was a chorus of dry clicking as the autoloaders chambered the ammunition. Incapacitator brand ammunition was standard issue for the Canterlot police force; a brass hollow-point bullet coated in diluted cockatrice paralytic. When it came to raw stopping power, there was no besting it. A far cry from the old, allegedly non-lethal rubber bullet, this one was about as deadly as any standard round, though still preferable to—
A single low-dispersal beam of white cut through the door like a blowtorch through butter. The beam burned through Graphite’s neck, vaporizing some of the blood and spraying the rest on the adjacent wall. He slumped. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The remaining members of the team leapt for what sparse cover the hallway presented. The walls exploded in a hail of machine gun fire.
Shining Armor dimly registered bits of shouted Stalliongrad dialect coming from the other side of the wall.
Far below, Twilight was startled by a sudden influx of voices on the neuro-vocal line.
“Strike leader is down, I repeat, Graphite is down!”
“We have hostiles! Hawk, thin their numbers!”
“Copy. Support team, fire at will.”
There was a distinct hiss of a smoke grenade being detonated, though Shining could not pinpoint who threw it. The deafening chatter of the team’s rifles echoed through the building and the bitter scent of cockatrice venom wafted through the air. As he scanned the clouded room, he saw a dazed member of the Bratva rushing towards him through the smoke. Combat instinct took over. He pivoted around the attacking unicorn, locking the crook of his knee around the mobster’s neck and crushing his larynx.
“You’re under arrest,” he said superfluously.
The unicorn managed to choke out several syllables before losing consciousness. “You’re… with… police?”
Voices sounded from the smoke, voices he recognized as belonging to members of the team.
“West landing, clear!”
“Entrance is clear!”
“Bedroom’s clear!”
Something stirred on the floor above; something heavy. Its lumbering gait shook the foundations of the ceiling, dislodging clouds of dust. Shining Armor tracked the footfalls as they gained momentum, racing forward. The team felt, rather than heard, the propulsion drives powering up. A window shattered.
Hawk Eye’s voice came to him over the broadcast channel, awash with disbelief.
“I-it’s an alicorn! An alicorn just broke through the balcony on the forty-second floor!”
“Say again?” Heartland’s voice, strained.
As Twilight looked up from the land car, she saw the figure silhouetted in what little moonlight got through the cloud cover. Even at this distance, its enormous wings were unmistakable. In the next instant, the wings seemed to fold and crumple, and the figure started to drop.
Hawk Eye’s voice came over the line again. “The unknown alicorn is falling, repeat, falling to street level.”
Shining Armor snapped back to Heartland.
“Shit. Do we have any combat-ready units down there?”
“Fifteen armed officers, all jacked into the team broadcasting channel.”
Shining activated an audio link with his sister.
“Twilight, stand ba—”
But it was already too late. The alicorn landed hard, crushing the hood of Twilight’s car like abused tinfoil. Various collision alerts lit up the console, bathing her in a neon glow. Her panicked voice raced back over the audio link.
“Holy shit, holy fucking shit, he’s right here, he’s right in front of me.”
The steel flesh of the behemoth alicorn glinted in the ambient red and blue police lights. She heard its joints give off a mechanical whine as it stood straight. A voice erupted from its microphone, heavily modulated.
“Good evening, Twilight. I figured you’d prefer to chat outside beneath the starlit skies, rather than in that stuffy building with the rest of Canterlot’s finest.”
“It’s not a real alicorn,” she said into the audio link. “It’s an armored exoskeleton.”
“Pilot!” one of the officers shouted somewhere. “Stand down and exit the combat suit immediately, or we will open fire!”
The armor lifted its right leg and violently brought it down again on the scarred hood of the car. Heartland’s voice sounded on the broadcast channel.
“Hawk Eye, take the shot.”
The sniper rifle’s retort blasted through the night like an amplified fire cracker. Something almost imperceptible whizzed by and punctured the head of Twilight’s seat.
“Hey, watch where you’re firing! You damn near killed me!” she exploded.
“I-I wouldn’t miss a stationary target!”
Gunfire erupted in the street as the grounded police officers tried to disable the exoskeleton. Twilight watched as bullets seemed to curve around their foe and bury themselves in their surroundings. Several officers were injured nigh instantaneously without any apparent attack from the armor. She ducked out of the car mere seconds before the windshield and the seats behind it were riddled with stray lead.
“Stop shooting, you numbskulls!” she shouted, taking cover behind one of the other vehicles. “It’s an anti-ballistic field!”
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire, damn it!” Shining’s voice over the broadcast channel.
The deafening cacophony of gunfire ceased, partially due to Shining’s orders, mostly due to the fact that the attacking officers were dead or in the process of bleeding out. The armor stepped off the wreckage of the police car and casually began to search the barricades for its target.
“Twilight,” it sang. The heavy distortion turned the call into a bloodcurdling screech. “Where are you, dear? And here I was so looking forward to our talk.”
Twilight tumbled clumsily from cover to cover in the wake of the machine, trying to stay out of sight. She turned her attention to the audio link as she came to rest behind one of the cars.
“Shining, please tell me you guys have brought a beam weapon or two.”
There were a few moments of radio silence while her brother consulted with the commissioner.
“Listen very carefully, Twilight. There is a munitions truck parked on the eastern edge of the police cordon. Heartland’s entered your DNA sequence into the permissions, so you should be able to open the back without issue. Look for—”
A cool breeze brushed the back of her neck as the car behind her was thrown aside almost effortlessly. She heard the vehicle land back to the ground nose-first, some fifty yards away. The armor’s altered tones keened in her ears.
“This suit is equipped with thermographic cameras. You can’t hide from me.”
She turned to look back at the steel alicorn, dumbstruck. Its three electronic eyes whirred as they adjusted focus. It wound up for a swing, oddly slow, deliberate.
“Twilight, move!” Shining shouted.
And then she was sprinting, the concrete cracking some feet behind her. The ground began to shudder beneath her hooves as the armor unhurriedly pursued. She didn’t dare look back. As she leapt and weaved through the barricade she could hear the damage behind her, cars being crushed, hurled with abequine force. Her lungs began to ache, unaccustomed to the exertion and her weak heart beat until she feared it would burst.
She collided ungracefully with the munitions truck, panting, weak in the knees. She quickly wet her hoof with her tongue and swiped it over the DNA reader on the back door. The door slid open, revealing racks of smooth gunmetal within. Her panicked eyes scanned the walls, desperately searching. The heavy steps of the mechanical behemoth drew closer, pounding like detonations in a warzone. At last she made out the sleek, almost iconic profile of a beam gun. A Solaris pistol; small for ease of concealment, short battery life when compared to more expensive models like, say, anything from Æther, and a smooth, waxy design that was more reminiscent of a sex toy than a firearm.
She levitated it from its clasp and gingerly leveled it on the approaching exoskeleton. Or tried to. She’d never had reason to use a weapon before so aiming proved to be a challenge, and death’s steady approach did nothing to calm her nerves. Visibly trembling, she attempted to discharge the weapon.
“Shit! The fucking trigger won’t fucking budge! The gun’s jammed or something!”
“Beam weapons don’t jam," said Shining, patient as always. "Just breathe a little. You have to remove the safety.”
Under normal circumstances she’d feel stupid, but the adrenaline rushing through her system prioritized other functions. She aimed again, lifted the safety latch and pulled the trigger.
There was no recoil, nor any deafening retort. Some combat veterans described beam weapons as ‘unsatisfying to use’ for this exact reason; firing one was as easy as flicking a light switch and the effect was similar in appearance.
The first shot went wide, but that was the result of her incompetence rather than that of the field that surrounded the armor. She realigned it with her sights, aiming for center mass, and fired again. She heard a sizzle as one of the exoskeleton’s shoulder plates was superheated and began to melt.
The pilot screamed in surprise or pain or both, and the sound was amplified by the distorting microphone. The resulting shriek sent razors straight through her ears and into her brain. She clutched at her head, stumbled, but remained standing. The pilot of the exoskeleton shouted something indistinct—a threat or a curse she was sure—but the ringing in her ears had not subsided and she couldn’t catch it.
She watched, still dazed from the auditory shock, as the armor unfolded its wings and swiftly took off into the night sky. One moment it was a hint of reflected light, the next it was gone, swallowed by the nebulous darkness.
And the night was still and silent once more.
The chairs in the police station badly needed replacing; the worn context mold seat had settled to a flat cushion. She fidgeted in the chair, fruitlessly trying to find a comfortable position.
“Come on, Heartland. Let me go home. I need sleep.”
The police commissioner gave her a hard look.
“Not until I hear your side of the story. We’ve lost nine stallions tonight. Nine. And there’s another four in critical condition. And for what? Why did the killer contact you?”
Twilight gestured vaguely, shifted in her seat.
“I don’t know, he found out that I was helping the investigation somehow.”
“You understand that there are a number of other detectives and consultants working this case,” said Heartland. He didn’t look tired at all. Twilight suspected he’d keep her here all night if he had to.
“I don’t know, really. I gave you the chat log, what more do you want?”
Shining Armor entered the room, levitating a steaming cup of coffee. He handed it to Twilight and turned to the commissioner.
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” he asked. “She’s not in any condition to be answering questions. She could very well be in shock.”
“She’s not in shock,” Heartland said without looking at the other stallion. “How did the guy get an exoskeleton with an anti-ballistic field generator? That’s very high budget experimental tech.”
Twilight gave him a weary smile. “Well. Evidently he is either very rich, or has corporate connections. I’d wager the latter. You remember how the hotel sprite was completely disconnected? Gave him the opportunity to interrupt a Bratva meeting without tripping an alarm. Pretty convenient, don’t you think?”
“So? He deactivated the AI so that it wouldn’t alert the police.”
The mare grinned.
“I doubt that very much, commissioner.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because,” she began, sounding as though she was explaining something to a foal. “Skilled mages seldom make good hackers. Casting complex spells and decking require radically different thought processes. Most magicians are psychologically vested in rational or scientific matters and the physical realm. Deckers, by contrast, are pathologically impulsive and reckless, often content to let their physical bodies atrophy as they lose themselves in the Expanse.
“So,” she concluded brightly. “Our perp is not without support. While it’s possible that he has friends, I find it much more realistic that he has corporate backing, due to his probable anti-social tendencies and low self-esteem.”
Heartland sighed. “Maybe we could have a real criminal profiler evaluate your theories.”
“Did you read the chat log? That masturbatory pretention, the way he hid behind some trivial historic lecture?”
“He seemed pretty confident in the street,” Heartland pointed out.
“Wouldn’t you be, if you were packing what he was? And as soon as he got a little singed, he fled. Doesn’t reek of confidence to me.”
The conversation continued in this fashion for a while. Queries from the commissioner. Irate answers from the mare. It was four in the morning when Shining Armor came in for the second time. His face was set, resolute.
“What is it now, Armor?” asked Heartland.
“It’s the Princess,” said the captain. “She would like to speak with Twilight. Immediately.”
Two Royal Guards dressed in traditional armor stood watch over the main palace entrance. They were identical in appearance, stance and demeanor, but that’s to be expected from two members of a force that was composed almost entirely of bioengineered clone soldiers. Twilight was never quite sure how Shining Armor managed to become the captain lacking the DNA makeup of the rest of the Guard. She would have to ask him another time.
The two Guards stood to attention as she approached with her brother. They entered the palace proper without comment. The palace stayed well-lit throughout the day; even in the early morning, passers-by could see the constant light coming from the windows. The electrical bills must have been staggering, but then, the Royal Family were not the ones who paid the upkeep. She heard the cameras whine as they pivoted to follow their passage.
Be good inside our hallowed halls.
They found Princess Celestia seated at a refectory table in the dining room, in the company of a positively ancient bottle of red wine. She looked as sharp and radiant as ever and Twilight found herself wondering if the Princess ever slept.
“Good morning, Twilight. Shining.” She motioned for them to sit. “Wine?”
Twilight’s head was already aching with fatigue. The last thing she needed now was a hangover.
“Your Ladyship’s hospitality is much appreciated, but I’ll have to pass.”
The Princess filled two glasses.
"I insist."
Twilight resignedly watched as Princess Celestia slid one of the glasses in her direction.
“If it pleases Your Ladyship.”
She sipped at her glass and waited for the Princess to make her reasons for summoning them clear. Several silent minutes passed.
Finally, Princess Celestia spoke. “I understand that you faced down a combat-ready exoskeleton earlier tonight.”
“Well, erm, yes,” Twilight stumbled, taken aback by the Princess’s directness.
“When I gave you leave to participate in the investigation, I did not expect that you’d be fighting personally,” said the Princess.
Yeah, well, neither did I. But like you said; occupational hazards.
Twilight cleared her throat nervously.
“My apologies. Events spiraled out of our control.”
“Oh?" The Princess took a measured sip from her glass, never taking her eyes off of Twilight. "Shining tells me that you insisted on being present near the scene, despite all attempts to convince you otherwise.”
Twilight resisted the urge to look back at her brother.
“Uh.” She inspected her wine glass, looking for a suitable excuse.
“That’s alright, you are curious about the world.” The Princess gave her a chilling smile. “Perhaps it is time that you began to truly learn for yourself.”
She paused for another sip with every sign of enjoyment.
“I am hereby relocating you and your assistant to the Ponyville settlement on the edge of the Everfree.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Abruptly Twilight realized that her jaw had dropped open.
“I. I don’t understand. Am I being expelled?” she asked.
“Not at all, child. Think of it as a special assignment directly from me. You will continue your studies independently, sending a report of your findings once every week and your brother will visit you twice a week to instruct you in practical self-defense.
“Financially, you will be on your own, save for a small sum of bit credit to get you started. I recommend that you purchase the small library near the center of town. It has fallen into a state of disrepair but I’m sure your organizational skills could get it back to working order.”
Damn it all. She’s serious.
“But what about my exams?” tried Twilight. “What about the investigation?”
“Those are no longer of your concern. Gather your belongings. A Royal Guard escort will arrive to your dwelling at noon to transport you.”
The Princess raised her glass.
“I call a toast… to your new life in New Ponyville.”
(13:26) [user irretrievable] joined the conversation.
(13:26) Girls-Best-Friend: How do you fare?
(13:26) [user irretrievable]: I could be better. Nearly got killed on my run last night.
(13:26) Girls-Best-Friend: By whom? The mob? With the equipment we provided?
(13:27) [user irretrievable]: No. The investigator girl, Twilight. She got a hold of a beam weapon and shot me. Got a nasty burn, stings like a motherfucker. I should have killed her when I had the chance.
(13:27) Girls-Best-Friend: That wouldn’t have been wise. The last thing we need is to draw the attention of the Princess to what we’re doing. Regardless, my sources tell me that the Royal Guard have relocated Miss Sparkle to New Ponyville an hour ago. You shouldn’t have to worry about her any longer.
(13:27) [user irretrievable]: Praise the Sun for that. I think she may have been getting close.
(13:28) [user irretrievable]: You’ll be happy to know that much of the Bratva’s administrative unit has been taken care of, save for Fancy Pants. He did not attend last night’s meeting.
(13:28) Girls-Best-Friend: That’s a shame. I’m sure you’ll take care of him in due time, however. Keep up the good work, Lucid.
(13:28) Girls-Best-Friend left the conversation.
The Canterlot Archives stood steadfast and solemn in the mid-afternoon sun.
Shining Armor checked his digital time readout. Twilight would be long gone by now. He sighed. It was a shame that he was unable to see her off, but he’d been filling out paperwork for property damage and police reports with Heartland for the better part of the day. Twilight had told him that morning before they parted ways about her last desperate lead: The previous borrowers of Terrors of the Twelfth Hour.
He glanced through the book himself earlier. It provided detailed descriptions and instructions for casting most of the spells mentioned. Chances were good that the memetic kill spell could be learned from the original book, before it was damaged. He frowned. Dangerous times these were, when one could learn a fatal curse from a readily-available volume.
He entered the facility.
A unicorn youth was manning the checkout desk. He was hunched over and appeared to be asleep at his post.
Shining Armor spoke up. “Hey. Buddy. Wake up, I’ve got some questions for you.”
The librarian opened his eyes, yawned, and straightened up.
“Yes sir. How can I help you,” he said quietly.
He looked to be about nineteen, with a light blue coat. His brand was a cloud with a large Z inscribed in the center. He wore an antique pair of prescription spectacles, implying that he was too poor to have his eyes surgically repaired. He was almost completely unremarkable except for—
Shining had to do a double take. A large bandage covered the youth’s shoulder. The flesh surrounding it was tan and much of the hair had been singed off. The librarian must have caught him looking, moved to cover it.
“Sir?”
Shining locked gazes with the youth.
“What happened to your shoulder, kid?”
The librarian shrugged.
“Stove malfunctioned at home. I tried to fiddle with it a bit, got this burn for my trouble.” His voice sounded almost casual.
Almost.
“I see.” Shining nodded. “What was the make of the stove?”
The librarian hesitated.
“Ignam, I think. Sixty-five or sixty-six. Why’s that important?”
Shining shrugged in turn.
“I want to make sure to stay away from that brand, then. Where were you yesterday at approximately 8:30 in the evening?”
His gaze wavered.
“I was here, working.”
“Hard worker, I see.” Shining made a mental evaluation of his equipment. The weight of the standard issue electric stun prod hung reassuringly from the holster on his hip, but he had no cuffs or spell suppressors. If this was going to escalate, he’d have to knock the librarian unconscious. “You got anyone that can vouch for that?”
“Yeah, a couple ponies stopped by during my shift to check out some books," said the librarian. "I have their contact information right here, if you want it.”
Shining shook his head.
“That’s alright, we’ll get that later. Could you come wi—”
His peripheral vision registered the librarian’s horn lighting up to cast a spell. He vaulted over the table with his prod at the ready before he consciously realized what he was doing. The papers and pens flew after him as he landed on top of the librarian. He held the librarian down with a grappling spell and flicked the switch on the prod; it buzzed to life eagerly. The librarian's horn abruptly winked out as the stun prod connected with his flesh. Shining brought the prod down over and over until the struggle drained from the librarian's body.
Satisfied that his suspect had been fully incapacitated, Shining Armor stood up and sighed. It wasn’t much of a fight, but he hadn’t expected the youth to have any combat training anyway.
Unbelievable. Call it serendipity, I suppose. Who in Tartarus is this kid?
An insistent voice in the back of his head whispered that this wasn’t right, this was way too easy. He shrugged it off irritably.
The clouds were beginning to clear as he hauled the unconscious unicorn to the transport on his back. The city continued about its day, blissfully unaware and he found himself wishing that Twilight was with him.
A flock of birds flew in a sloppy V-formation overhead. Heading south. Ponyville-bound.
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It's unbeilible that this has no comments yet
Cyberpunk is best punk
3537620
I agree wholeheartedly. All the other punks are shoddy imitations of the real thing.
I was beginning to get depressed 'cos of the lack of comments. You have pulled me from my pit of endless despair. Thank you kindly, sir.
3537719 Have another
3562501
Huzzah! I am validated!
You're that desperate for comments, huh? You expect me to say something clever? Well guess what? I don't even like cyberpunk all that much! You can take your memetic kill spells and shove them in a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine, dwelt a miner forty niner, and his daughter Clementine
3630523
Gosh darn. Well, you're entitled to your tastes and I can't fault you for that. I appreciate your comment never-the-less! My gluttony for comments may not be sated yet, but I hope these are merely the appetizer for a full seven-course meal!
Also, I wish you happy holidays. Unless you don't celebrate those either.
Glad to see something actually doing a good cyberpunk fic on here. Can hardly get enough of that genre.
One critique for this chapter, though. You start off in present tense, but then stick to past tense for the rest. Might want to change that first paragraph just to keep it all consistent.
Well, a lot of going-on's in this chapter. I'm really disliking Celestia in this fic so far. I do believe you mentioned the whole palace wasn't paid for by her? Perhaps by donations, hmm.
I'm curious if the Royal Guard will fight or are fighting against the Gryphon Kingdom? The way I see them for now, is something of a militia that protects the Princess. I'm not too sure how to feel about that just yet.
The fact that Fancy Pants wasn't at the meeting seems like a mixture of good-fortune, or impeccable foresight. I doubt he'd let his comrades die, but I think he has something going on behind the curtains.
I'm actually enjoying you're weapon descriptions, so far. In stories they usually go bear minimalist "He held a gun." or way too detailed "With his AR15, M320 grenade launcher loaded with HE shells..." you get the idea. I think it works.
I wasn't sure how to feel when I realized there were only two chapters of this at the start, but I think the end leveled it out quite nicely.
I also enjoyed that Twilight is on, what appears to me, "time out". This new character, A-Girl's-Best-Friend may be Rarity then? Hmm, so many potential people.
I also feel that it isn't the librarian. Unless you really want to finish this episode off, and never want to use the vigilante, Lucid(?) again, I think that he is still around. I think you're descriptions of the alicorn armour really detailed. It was well done, but I'm disappointed the entire conflict was over so quickly. I think there could have been more to it, but that might just be me.
Except again, beam weapons don't cauterize. You're an exceptional author from what I've read, avail yourself of the tools and resources collated at TvTropes.