Daring Do, Part 2
“My name is Trixie Lulamoon. I never married, never started a family, but today, I am here to bury one of my children.” Trixie’s voice seems to come from everywhere. It’s a trick, of course. I actually know that spell, and how magic can twist sound so that it seems omnipresent. Knowing that it’s a trick doesn't quite negate the effect though. It’s like she’s barely three paces in front of me, and when I hear the pain in her tone, it’s hard to dismiss it as a recording. Her delivery is masterful, some of the best voicework I’ve ever heard.
“When I first met Diamond Tiara, she was only a foal. A little filly at a magic show,” Trixie continues. The funeral stuff started playing a few minutes after we walked into Neptune’s Bounty proper, though I don’t see where the sound is coming from. First there was a nice dirge—not one I’ve heard before, but it wasn’t terrible—then the moment of silence, then a procession of ponies paying their respects, and then finally Trixie and the eulogy.
“It’s been so long that many of the faces in the crowd are a blur, but I remember her—the pink and purple earth pony with the little tiara on her head. I never learned her name, but I remembered her, until we met again four years later.” The little tinge of regret when she says it is a nice touch, the sort of thing that distinguishes a master from a novice. Anypony could make that sound sad, but without adding a word, she makes it totally clear that she’s lying, and feels guilty that she’s lying. She makes it work, and leaves the unspoken understanding that she doesn't remember one foal out of a crowd, but she’s convinced herself she does.
I doubt most ponies are even aware of what she just did, but it affects them even if they don’t consciously perceive it. I can see it in their faces, in the motions of their bodies. More than a few ponies in the street look crushed. One mare has even started to cry. She’s probably just the sobby type though.
I don’t really know what I was expecting out of the upper level of Neptune’s Bounty. Disgusting excess maybe, in contrast to the poverty below. Or maybe empty buildings, with just Trixie and her wiredolls. I suppose a fortress would also have made sense—an impenetrable bastion of security dolls and force fields to hold off the Elements of Harmony and the rest of the city.
Instead, I found something strange. It’s a beautiful space—dry and bright, made from pristine white stone. Unlike the rest of Vision, it’s not partitioned into hallways, but is a single massive room, on the floor of which buildings have been set. Instead of a ceiling or exterior walls, there’s a grid of support beams with forcefields between them, letting us see out in all directions. The combined effect is that of being under the open air, like the surface of ocean was the night sky, and the submarines were airships drifting through it. I can’t imagine how much wasted effort went into this, but I can’t deny it’s a welcoming sort of feeling.
“The Blight destroyed so many foals—crushed their innocence and let them see the fear in their parents’ eyes,” Trixie goes on. The floor is a forcefield too in places. Not everywhere, but enough that you can see down into the levels below. It’s a factory below us—rows and rows of assembly lines flanked by rows and rows of ponies. Every time the lights cycle, the lines roll forward one space. Hammers, hooves, screwdivers, and more are raised, used, and lowered. Then the lights pulse again. “Not her though. She never gave into depression or regret. It wasn’t her way. She got mad.”
Parts of the floor on the factory level are forcefields as well, and I can see there’s another story of assembly lines below. And another below that, and another below that, until they make a mockery of perspective, and it all blurs together—suspended chains carrying machine parts, rolling belts holding skeletal wiredolls, banks of saws that cut into metal like it was wood, and steel sheets for them to cut.
“She was mad when we met for the second time,” Trixie says, drawing a deep breath and letting it out. “Mad at the Blight, mad at Celestia, mad at the ponies who didn’t do enough, and mad at herself that she couldn’t do more. On the farm, she swung a hoe and pick like the ground itself was to blame for what happened, and she could punish it until Equestria was right again.”
I see rows of mantle bottles, train tracks, benches, hammers, the outer frame of a Big Brother’s drill, security bars, and boxes of glittering red and blue gems. The constant motion always draws the eye downwards, instinct compelling it to look, always reminding you of where you stand: on top of the world, all its riches laid out before you. It’s no wonder the ponies here look so uncomfortable. So guilty.
“It would never be right again though, and she knew it,” Trixie says, and I watch an old stallion in the crowd take his hat off, holding it to his chest. The ponies here look as ragged as the ones down at the station. All the fine stone and fancy buildings do is make them seem more out of place by contrast.
They feel out of place too. They look down when their hooves leave oily marks on the white stone and scurry guiltily away. They smile awkwardly at the faces in windows and doors and then pick up their pace, avoiding eye contact. They wait in long lines in front of those funny wiredolls with the hat and cape and do not acknowledge each other. And when the funeral started, they all stopped and listened like Trixie was right there, watching them to make sure they paid attention.
Maybe she is watching them, but that's not why they stop. I used to wonder why Trixie’s minions were so loyal to her, when she abused them so badly. But now I know. She’s convinced them they deserve it.
“When I told her about Vision, she accepted without a second thought, abandoning Celestia’s farms for the offices and corridors of the tower that bears her name,” Trixie goes on. The little angry kick on “Celestia’s farms” isn’t as subtle as her previous work, but it lands well with the crowd, hardening the eyes of some of the older earth ponies there. Bad memories.
“It suited her better, and she was even happy for a time. Her tower was her home and its people her family. But she never really got over Equestria.” Trixie sighs. Not what I would have gone with. It’s delivered very well, but that just wasn’t a good choice of scripting—kind of overselling the moment. “She had lost her old home and family, and some part of her always feared and raged that she would lose her new one.”
There are no advertisements here. Funny how at this point, I’m so used to them that their absence is noticeable. There aren’t any though. The walls are plain and white, and the signs, bright as they might be, are always strictly functional: street names, building numbers and the like. The only decoration is the stars on those wiredolls’ clothes, the jewels around their necks, and one very particular building in the distance. A spire of blue, at the far end of the main street, from which banners of blue and silver hang. The highest point in Neptune’s Bounty, where the submarines come to dock.
“She was braver than that though, and stronger than that. When the war came, she kept her new family safe. She didn’t take trouble from anypony—not the rebels, not security, not me.” A tinge of hurt that isn’t grief in that one. Very smooth, particularly given the dubious quality of her lines. “I taught her so much. I mentored her though the early years; but that didn’t mean a thing to her if I couldn't help her today. I never resented her for it though. I loved her like a daughter, and I think she loved me, but I was just one part of her family. There were other ponies to think about.”
Berry doesn't say a word as we walk along, but I doubt it’s because she’s listening to the eulogy. All she’s done is lead me to the main street, turn towards the docks, and then keep walking in a straight line, guiding me past the funny wiredolls, and the lines of dirty ponies, and the pristine buildings around us. I glance into a few of the buildings to see what’s in them, but nothing stands out. No shops, just doors labeled “Supplies,” no restaurants, just arrows pointing to “Cafeteria,” no security officers, just silvery wiredolls on every roof and corner.
“Hundreds of ponies are alive today because of her efforts,” Trixie says, a drawn breath signaling that she’s getting to the end. “She was a hero. She was a pony who suffered, and instead of letting it destroy her, she vowed that no foal under her care would ever go through what she did. Now, her long vigil is over, and she is reunited with those she lost.”
“The inhabitants of Tiara Tower owe her a debt they can never repay, as do we all,” Trixie says, letting the silence hang for a moment before she finishes. “She will be missed.”
The final dirge starts playing. At Peace. An uncreative choice, but not bad. Some of the ponies take that as the end of things and quietly go back to what they were doing. Most stop to listen though, looking off at the dock in the distance.
“How did she die?” I ask Berry as we walk. There’s no more click-clack of hooves. The force fields make no sound when we step on them, though they do humm and buzz in time with the lights. I’m so used to the sound by now that I’ve hardly noticed it lately, but it does stand out here.
“In her sleep,” Berry says, plainly enough. I suppose I should treasure a straight answer out of her.
“Who killed her? Security? Trixie?” I ask, thinking back to the last time I saw her, the fight and Green on her desk.
“She appears to have died of natural causes,” Berry answers as the music continues to play around us.
“Right. But who do you think killed her?” I press, snapping out of my recollection to watch Berry. She walks ahead steadily, towards the distant spire of blue and the submarines there. She doesn't answer, but she doesn't need to.
“I see,” I whisper, when enough time time has passed. We walk for a while that way. I have to step up a little when the floor briefly transitions to stone, and then back to a forcefield again, a little bump in the way. The dock is closer now, the crowds milling about us a bit thinner. The music won’t last much longer. At Peace is pretty short. “Was it over what happened with me?”
Still, Berry says nothing, and around us, the song ends. There’s a moment’s silence as everypony waits to see if there’s more to come, but nothing follows it, and gradually they go back to what they were doing.
Eventually, Berry’s silence becomes an answer all its own. “I see,” I whisper again.
There’s little point in looking at Berry, so I turn to watch the ponies below us.
The line directly underneath us seems to make benches. It alternates between earth ponies and unicorns, each one about three paces apart. At each station, there are three wrought iron supports—the side part of the bench, I guess. First, a unicorn levitates a board out of stack and slides it into place on top of the frames. Second, an earth pony checks to make sure it’s properly aligned, adjusting it with his hooves. Third, a unicorn zaps the metal on one of the frames with a beam from his horn that leaves some sticky goo behind. Fourth, another earth pony grabs the sticky part with his hooves, clearing away the extra and leaving the board neatly stuck in place.
The last step repeats twice more, for each of the three frames, and then the entire process repeats itself once for each of the nine beams on the seat and back of the bench. Seventy-two ponies, all in a row, doing the same thing over and over. Nine unicorns with a levitating dumbbell cutie mark, usually on the back or neck. Nine earth ponies with a pile of planks and wrought iron on their shoulders or barrel. Twenty-seven unicorns with a bottle of glue on their back or rear legs. And, finally, twenty-seven earth ponies, with a set of craftspony’s knives and a brush on their haunches or chests. None of them ever move except to see to their rote tasks. It’s like they’re rooted to the ground at their stations.
“What’s wrong with making benches the old way?” I ask quietly, and it’s not until I speak that I realize how lightheaded I’ve become. All the blood has rushed into my head, and when I lift it, I can feel it rush out as spots appear in my eyes. I must have been staring at the ground and walking blindly forward for a while.
“At capacity, that assembly line can produce eighty-six thousand benches a day,” Berry says. What? I... eighty-six thousand? I look around, like I might suddenly notice that Vision is drowning under piles of park benches, but of course, there’s nothing. Not so much as a street bench to be seen—just more rows of plain white buildings, and the ponies standing in neat lines outside them.
“What does Trixie need that many benches for?” I ask, quietly.
Berry shrugs.
I glance back down at the line. The bench-line is past now, of course, and the new line below us is making... I don’t know. Ovens I think? Perhaps they just don’t run it at full capacity? I suppose they must not, but, is that even the point? All the lines seem to run at the same rate—once every time the lights beat. That means every line down there is eighty-six thousand somethings a day. Hoof weapons. Wiredolls. Bilge pumps. Toasters. No wonder Rarity and Rainbow Dash and the others can’t be rid of her. Neptune’s Bounty must produce... well. Everything in the city. Or if not, a good chunk of it.
Does it work that way though? Can it work that way? If Neptune’s Bounty makes everything, what does Trixie get in return? Mantles? Raw materials? Or is it really nothing? Is that how Trixie is still standing when all the other rulers and Elements of Harmony hate her? Is all this stuff tribute she pays for the right to continue being alive?
I lift my head to the ponies on our level. The ones lining up outside buildings and in front of those wiredolls with wider stands, capes, and hats. The ones who scuttle around like foals—foals who just stole a cookie and are afraid their parents will notice—clutching bags and bundles. All of them with extra cutie marks: saws, gears, bricks, stone, wires, lightning, welding masks, glue. And the mare in the station, who agreed to be a bricklayer, to become a bricklayer, in exchange for room and board.
There’s always work in Neptune’s Bounty.
“Oh, stars...,” I whisper, shaking my head to clear it and turning back to the trail in front of us. I feel like I should be nauseous, like what’s around me should make me want to puke, but for once, my stomach is calm. “Every time I think I understand this city, it gets worse.”
Berry doesn't say anything.
Eventually, the dock grows closer. The lines of ragged-looking ponies grow shorter, and then fade away. The buildings are replaced with small patches of green, even parks, empty save for the occasional earth pony gardener. The road widens, and the entrance comes into sight. It’s a grand thing, all steel and glass and clicking gears—eight gold-framed elevator doors, waiting to whisk us up into the tower above.
The road ends in a half-circle in front of the elevators. It’s currently empty, but as we draw close, I can see that there’s a small waiting area behind a stand of trees. The better part of a dozen air chariots wait, along with a number of traditional carriages, their teams lazing about nearby, chatting or smoking. Guests, I suppose. Berry ignores them though, walking us straight to one of the elevators. The glass doors slide open as we approach, without any buttons or levers or anything. There are no controls inside either. “Penthouse,” Berry says as I move to stand by her side.
Then the doors shut on their own, and we start to ascend.
It quickly gets darker in the lift. There’s no light inside, and as we climb, more and more stone and metal blocks our view. What starts as a panoramic view of the interior of Neptune’s Bounty is partially cut off by one pillar, then another, then another, until finally, the lift is plunged into complete darkness. I can’t even see Berry’s outline, but there must be some light, because I can sense motion outside. Sense the stone rushing past us, feel my weight increase as we pick up speed.
Then we burst out into the open. Now, it’s Vision all around us, all its glittering towers and lights, and drifting among them, submarines. At first, we’re below them—with the grid-pattern of Neptune’s Bounty before us, the ships are just lights in the sky. But soon we rise, and I can see them. I can see ships made from brass and steel, bigger than the biggest vessel in Celestia’s navy, with fins like fish and tails made from cogs and drive screws.
The Wharf was made for those ships. The dock I woke up on was made to berth them. I’m sure of it. They’re grand, and golden and vast. And when I twist my head up, I can see there’s one docked at the top of the tower. Waiting for me. And right here, right now, they’re not just ships. They’re my lifeline. They’re grass and warmth and safety and Canterlot Palace.
And I’m about to walk away from them.
Sun and stars. I want to go home. I want to tell Berry I’ve changed my mind! My throat’s getting tight again, and swallowing doesn't help. If I walk away from that sub, I’ll never see the sun again. Win, lose, get killed, starve, or go mad, I’ll die in the dark. In the city where the sun never shines.
I didn’t even think about what could happen after. After I save Green. Could we go? Could we go back to Equestria? I’m still worth some ransom. Enough to be worth the trip. Green could load up her saddlebags with enough mantles to last the rest of her life, and we could just go.
I start to laugh as the elevator gently drifts up. Ponyfeathers, I’m absurd, aren’t I? Like Green could load her saddlebags, with... what? A thousand doses? More? Like they’d keep. Like we’d ever be welcome in Equestria. We’d be going just to die in sunlight. Maybe I’d be okay with that, but not her. She’ll die cursing Celestia’s name.
No. We can’t go, and I’m not going to abandon her. This city is what I deserve.
I take one last look at the ships, at Neptune’s Bounty, at the glittering towers, and at the Sparkle Enchantments building that dominates them all. I draw a breath, work out the kinks in my neck, and turn to face the door. The lift is slowing down. Time to make it right.
Time to meet Trixie.
Our destination comes into view before the lift stops—one advantage of glass walls. It’s a foyer with a little C-shaped receptionist’s desk and a half-dozen wiredoll guards. They’re all active even before the doors open, though I suppose that makes sense. They don’t move to stop us or anything, only watch us, as the door opens and we step out.
The room itself reminds me of Rarity’s office a bit. It’s not the same designer, or the same style, but it’s a room that’s making a good effort to feel Equestrian: a mid-height ceiling, faux ceiling beams, wooden paneling to hide the white stone, illumination a bit brighter than the average, and plenty of windows. They show show the sea and the city instead of the Pavilion, but the effect is the same—a sense of open space. That makes sense, in light of what the approach was like. I suppose she’s rich enough that she can have whatever architectural tastes she likes.
There are even carpets, dry as a bone. They tickle my hooves a little. Always have.
Berry leads us up to the desk and walks past the guards without stopping. They follow her with their empty glass eyes but say nothing and don’t stop us. They must recognize her or have some other indication that she’s allowed. I can’t imagine anypony just walking in here. Behind the desk is a long, narrow corridor lined with shelves, and at the end, I can see that it opens into a larger space. A living room, maybe.
It’s quiet here. That’s a little silly to observe really—what was I expecting, a one-pony band? But, still, my ears strain to hear something. The sound of my hooves on the carpet starts to stand out in stark relief, along with the hiss of my own breathing, Berry’s heavier footfalls, and the steady cycling of the lights. The hallway is maybe thirty paces from end to end, and we’re more than halfway through it before I hear a single other sound.
A quiet, rapid, ticking sound. The click of metal. A regular thumping. The distinctive swish and ting of a typewriter. She types fast.
We emerge from the end of the hall into a living room, just like I’d thought. It’s small, if well appointed. There’s a closed, sliding door to our immediate left, and a smaller doorway on the far right, left ajar. It is from the far right that the sound of typing comes, but when I look that way, I can’t see anything through the crack. The rest of the room is kind of cozy, really. The entire far wall is a couch with bookshelves up above it, and a little table in front of it holds some picture frames and a vase of flowers. The nearer wall is about the same—lots of hanging picture frames.
“Wait here a moment,” Berry says, striding over to the door at the far right. I’m not about to let her go ahead without me, but outright disobeying would only clam her up. Instead, I step halfway across the room to sniff at the flowers, and tilt my ears her way. That’s close enough for my spell if she tries to shut the door and whisper, but not so close she’ll think I’m listening at the keyhole. She knocks, just like I thought she would—two quick taps.
“Enter,” Trixie calls from the other side of the door, curt and businesslike. I still can’t see her—the angle is wrong, and Berry’s body blocks most of the view when she pushes in anyway—but I can hear clearly enough, particularly now that the typewriter has stopped. Odd that Berry hasn’t shut the door, but I guess if she wanted privacy, she wouldn't have let me come in here at all.
“Oh, Berry. Trixie didn’t see you come in,” Trixie says, the sound of typing picking up. She sounds about how I expected—less bombastic than she was over the wire, but no less arrogant. She throws a little dip onto the “Oh” to make it clear just how thrilled she is to be interrupted, and adds a pretentious little twist at the end to give it punch. Like she didn’t notice Berry because mere mortals are beneath her notice.
I didn’t expect her to use the third person face to face though. I assumed that was just something she did over the wiredoll to get attention. I suppose she’s really devoted to the act—that, or starting to lose her mind. It’s hard to tell. She sounds coherent, but so did Rarity, right up until she didn’t.
It’s a few seconds before the typing stops, and she continues: “How was the funeral?”
Wait, what?
My ears perk up, and I lean in a bit towards the door. There’s nothing to hear right away. Berry never answers quickly. “I was unable to make it. Siren did not wake until late in the day, and I thought it better to let her rest as long as possible.” There’s a pause for a moment, and through the open door, I can see Berry shift her stance a bit. Tilting her head, maybe? “The eulogy seemed to play well with the crowd.”
“Trixie heard,” she replies with a tinge of irritation, a clipping of her words. “The new mare performed... adequately, but The Great and Powerful Trixie was not impressed.” She clips the ends of Great and Powerful to emphasize them, that snotty little turn of phrase. “She isn’t your finest work.” A quiet sigh seals the deal. Small, almost a breath. “Her delivery was acceptable, but that speech didn’t move anypony who wasn’t ready to be moved.”
She had the eulogy given by a voice actor? A voice actor that Berry... what? Created with mantles? Gave her talents? I take a step closer, letting my horn shine just a little bit, until I can hear them both more clearly. “Charisma can be difficult,” Berry says, flat as ever. “Would you like me to try again, when the matter with Siren is resolved?”
“We’ll see how she schmoozes at the wake,” Trixie says with a dismissive little twist to her words. At the wake? She sent a body double to a funeral? That’s... I mean...
I guess it’s not any worse than having her killed in the first place.
“Siren is onboard the Fleur-de-Lis, then?” Trixie asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“She’s in the den,” Berry says, turning to glance back at me. I put out my horn at once, the spell fading just in time, before Berry’s gaze sweeps over me. She only holds it on me for a second, confirming that I’m there before turning back to Trixie. “I thought you might want to see her before she left.”
Before I leave? So she’s not going to tell Trixie I want to stay? In fact, it sounds like she’s going to intentionally mislead her. Is she planning to sneak me out? No, if that was it, she wouldn't have brought me here at all. I peer at Berry, but she might as well be a rock for all it matters. Trixie isn’t saying a word either, silence hanging in the air. Normally, I can tell one silence from another, but of course, Berry is a one-pony smokescreen. I have no idea what she’s getting at here, or why Trixie isn’t answering.
“Trixie has already seen her,” Trixie finally answers. That gives me something at least—hesitance. Trixie is good, classically trained and talented enough I can’t quite tell what she’s hiding or why she’s nervous, but that pause and her slightly-too-fast cadence are telling. She doesn't want to see me. But why? Was this Berry’s plan?
“The Fleur-de-Lis does not have a doll transceiver,” Berry answers, after her usual pause. “This would be your last chance.”
That clarifies things, but it also raises more questions. So, yes, Berry definitely intends to deceive Trixie, but not just to lie. She didn’t say “It will only take a moment” or an excuse. She’s acting like Trixie wants to see me, when I’m pretty sure she doesn't. Am I supposed to... set her off guard somehow? Bother her so she’ll be more open to Berry’s persuasion? That seems a bit manipulative for Berry. She’s usually pretty direct, but she wouldn't be doing this without a plan.
“Very well,” Trixie says, after another pause. “Show her in.”
Berry gestures me in, and I push my way through the door. I notice the hat first—blue with stars. Then the cape, and the jeweled clasp. That’s her? Those wiredolls were all statues of her? It takes me a second to process that, my brain reeling as my eyes take in the details. Blue coat, silver mane that’s curled around her horn. I can’t see her tail. She looks like she’s my age, so I assume that cape is hiding an extra mark or two, but I can't see them.
She looks... absurd, really. Her face is round, very expressive—pretty in a commoner sort of way. Part earth pony maybe. Combined with that ridiculous cape, she really pulls off the petty stage performer look. You just had to look at Rarity to know she was dangerous, but with Trixie, it’s easy to picture her singing and making foals clap. Like a clown in blue. It’d be friendly even, if I didn’t know who she was.
Of course, I do know who she is. She’s the brute who beats her henchponies and enslaves her followers, and the actor who makes them love her for it. She’s the schemer who held back the Elements of Harmony just so she could use them to excuse her own excesses. She’s the most dangerous sort of criminal—the kind with vision. And now, she’s looking at me from across her desk. Just watching.
“Hmph,” is all she says at first. A sound that’s not even a sound really.
I don’t say anything back. Defiance #2 is a bit generic—to say nothing of a bit basic—but it serves me well here, and as tired and disoriented as I am, I’m not sure I can manage a more complicated pose. It gets the point across and gives me a chance to study her while I wait for her to speak.
I’m not getting much from her face that I didn’t have already. There’s a bit of discomfort in her eyes, but her control over her face and body language is good enough that that’s about all I get. She’s not bothering with poses—her hooves flat on the ground—and I can tell that she’s evaluating me carefully. I’m not sure how to play this though. What does Berry expect me to do? Convince Trixie all on my own? Unnerve her so she’ll give into Berry’s request more easily? If it’s the second one, I have no idea how to proceed. She doesn't want me in here for some reason, but without more context, that’s about all I can say. Putting the ball in her court helps, but I’m sure she’s smart enough not to give away anything with how she opens.
“Well... no matter,” she finally speaks, letting out a little breath and shaking her head. Even that little gesture she manages to turn arrogant, her words dismissive. “That will be gone by the time she gets back to Equestria.”
That... oh, the Daring Do mark? I suppose if it takes more than fifteen days to get back to Equestria, it would have faded by then. Not that it matters. I look at Berry to see if this is where she speaks up, but she just looks at me blankly. What is she doing? If there’s a plan here, I don’t see it, but... she obviously expects me to speak on my own behalf. Finally, I turn back to Trixie. “I’m not going back.”
There’s a beat before she answers, one of her eyebrows raising just so. It’s tempting to think I caught her off guard, but no, that’s too smooth a reaction—too perfect a mask of skepticism. “Excuse me?”
“Back in the beginning, at Green’s, you said that if I didn’t want to play your hostage, I was free to walk out the door and see how well I did in the slums.” I say it cleanly, calmly. Firm, but not much emotion. Of course, I’m not naive enough to think she’ll hold herself to that promise, but it’s a good opener. “I’m taking you up on that. I’ve got things I need to do here.”
She snorts, with a dismissive little roll of her eyes, but I think I did actually catch her by surprise that time. Her reaction was a bit too quick. “You think Trixie is going to let you go after all the effort Trixie put into getting you here in the first place? Are you out of your little pony mind?” she asks with a snide twist in her tone and a sneer on her muzzle. “Or did your visit to Rarity happen to feature a lobotomy?”
“Green saved me,” I reply, careful to keep my voice even. Don’t rise to the bait. Don’t show any reaction. That’s what she wants. “She had a clear run to get out of the Pavilion, and she gave it up to come back and get me out. Now Rarity has her.” There’s not much emotion in the lines, but sometimes, it’s the plain invocation that adds the punch. Don’t oversell. “She’s a valuable and loyal agent. She’d serve you well if I got her out of there. And you could still trade me to Celestia after.” I keep the neutral tone but let my voice slow a bit, getting faintly quieter as I add: “I will not leave her there.”
“Trixie somehow feels Celestia wants you intact—a desire that will be difficult to fulfill after Rarity skins you and turns you into a coat,” Trixie says. Wait, what? That’s the exact threat Rarity made when I was in her office. But there was nopony there but us and Quick March. Is that a... thing she’s known for? “Green is replaceable in any case, and worth far less than you.”
“Trading me back to Celestia without Green may cost you more than you expect,” I say, delivering the line firmly. I’ve learned firsthoof just how Trixie takes being threatened, but with any luck, she’ll remember that she needs me alive.
“Trixie fails to see how,” Trixie replied, with a snort.
It starts as a tremble in my legs. That’s a good touch a lot of actors miss—you don’t open with the shaking chest and sides, you begin with the limbs being a little too stiff. Then my sides start to tremble, my breath comes a little too fast, like I was trying to draw even breaths but couldn't quite manage it. It takes a second for my eyes to water up, time I spend staring at the floor. My eyes tilt up and down like I couldn't quite meet Trixie’s gaze.
“A-and then...” I say, my voice shaking, the sound of a poor child trying to be oh so brave. “Trixie... she...” I start to mouth the words, but no sound comes out. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the first tears run down my cheeks. My legs communicate all that I can’t say, one leg trying to cover the burns on the other. “She didn’t... she didn’t believe me, when I said where I was from. A-and I kept telling her. And telling her. But she called me a liar, and...” A twisting of the ankles sells shame, and I fall silent, my voice choking up into an incoherent mess.
“Or you know,” I finish, dropping the tone instantly and looking back up to fix her with a glare. “Something like that. I’ll improvise. Might even say Rarity did it, just timidly enough that she’ll ask some questions. More realistic if you tried to pin it on somepony else and she has to pry the truth out of me.”
I know I nailed it when Trixie’s expression is absolutely blank. It’s a good poker face, but not as good as Berry’s. I take the time to wipe away the tears, patiently cleaning myself up. “I mean, everypony says you’re the one with the subs and ships, so I assume you enjoy at least tolerable relations with the ponies on the surface,” I continue, still with that set, determined tone. “I’m pretty sure torturing the Princess’s student voids that though.”
Silence. Nothing around us but the beat of the lights and the distant tick of a clock somewhere else in the penthouse. Trixie watches me, stone-faced. I watch her. Berry is watching us both, I assume, but she’s behind me and I can’t spare her the glance. I stare Trixie down, waiting the silence out as she considers.
“You’re not what Trixie expected,” she finally says, still holding a neutral expression. Interesting. Kind of a non-statement. Maybe I knocked her off guard harder than I thought?
“I get that a lot,” I reply with a sneer. “Let me go save Green, and you get her, the ransom, and a good word with Celestia. Drag me off to the sub now, and it’ll be your last supply run to Equestria.”
I think that lays it out pretty clearly, but she pauses again, watching me closely. She sits back, stretching out her jaw a bit. I just noticed she doesn't have a chair—she’s sitting on the floor on all fours. Maybe she has a bad back?
“Who taught you to do that?” she finally asks. The arrogant twist is gone, at least for now, which is a very encouraging sign. Direct hit! I guess her relations with the surface really are dependent on Celestia’s good graces. Her tone is flat, but that’s an act, and it’s not as solid as it could be. Under it, there’s... hesitance? No, not that simple. A more complicated emotion.
“What? Crying on command?” I ask, a tad skeptical, throwing her arrogant word twist right back at her.
“No,” she answers, evenly. “Who taught you to do that?”
“I’m naturally gifted,” I shoot right back. “A prodigy, even. Comes in handy. It’s why Rarity kept me alive. And it’s how I know Echo is going to help us get back into the Pavilion,” I continue, keeping up the beat. “He knows a way in. And under all that drunken bitterness, he hates Rarity. He’ll help us save Green just for a chance to stick a wingblade in her.” Noticing his rant against serial killers didn’t exactly take my full powers of perception, but Trixie doesn't know that, and it’s a good line.
“Trixie did wonder why Green was so fond of you,” Trixie says, still even. At this point, that beat is way too long for it to be shock. I think she’s feeling her way around, trying to get me to reveal something while she thinks. Odd. It was a pretty straightforward threat. Maybe she’s trying to evaluate if I’m bluffing? “Normally, she hates everypony.”
“We can talk about how awesome I am another time,” I say, taking control of the conversation and getting it back on track. “For now, am I going to get a chance to save Green or not? I don’t need much. Echo knows the way in, and I can talk him into it. Berry’s help would be welcome, but I’ll do it on my own if I have to.”
“Rarity has more than just guards protecting the Pavilion,” Trixie answers. “Even if you get Echo to assist you, you lack the ability to complete the break in.” What does she mean? Spells? Wiredolls? Traps? No matter.
“That’s what this is for,” I say, tapping my cheek. “Daring Do, right? Heroism, explosions, saving the mare. All that stuff. I’ll improvise the rest.”
Again, for a time, there’s silence. This one is more contemplative, so I take the pause to glance around the office—just in case there’s some helpful information there. It’s a little office. Not cramped, exactly, but smaller than you’d think—just a desk with a typewriter, some cabinets, and a hooffull of pictures on the desk and wall. The back is a big window, but that’s about the only thing that makes it stand out from any other moderately tasteful office. I can’t see the pictures on the desk, but I take a moment to glance at one of the bigger ones on the wall. It shows Trixie and two stallions, tan unicorns with red manes. Twins. They’re on either side of her, kissing her cheeks, while she blushes a brilliant red. It’s kind of cute.
“Why is it that you don’t want to go back to Equestria?” Trixie asks, breaking the silence and calling my gaze back to her impassive face. There’s something there now. The question was a bit tenser than before.
“I just said, when I’m done with Green, you can trade me back and—”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie did not ask that!” she snaps, a rush of hot anger coming out of nowhere. I think it’s even genuine, and in a moment, her forehooves are up on the desk. The whole desk rattles with the impact, a heavy crash as she leans forward. “Answer the question!”
“I want to go back to Equestria, I just—”
“Liar!” she snarls, her voice rising to a rough screech. Then to a roar. “You will answer the question honestly, and if Trixie thinks you are holding anything back, Trixie will have you hanged! You understand Trixie, you pathetic child!?” Her face contorts into a snarl, twisting as the anger comes hotter and hotter. “You understand that Trixie will snap your neck like a twig and let the Little Sisters eat your poisoned heart!?”
I... I don’t say anything. She’s actually shaking with fury. Her eyes are wide, teeth barred, nostrils flared, breath coming quick and fast. My heart is starting to race, but I manage to stand there. I manage to stay perfectly still. It just takes one look to know she’s not acting—she will beat me to death if the next thing I say pushes her. Her hooves hit the desk so hard they dented it. Stars she’s strong. She almost tore a gouge out of the hardwood. What do I do? What do I say? “I...” I start.
Then I see motion in the corner of my vision. Berry steps up beside the desk, puts a hoof on Trixie’s shoulder. Trixie’s head whirls, and she glares daggers at Berry, but Berry shows no reaction. She only stands there and meets Trixie’s gaze for a long while.
After what feels like forever, Trixie settles back down behind the desk.
I guess those two are closer than I’d realized.
“Answer the question,” she snaps at me, still angry, but I don’t think I’m in danger of her reaching out and crushing me with her bare hooves. Berry stays beside her, the hoof on her shoulder moving to rest on her back.
“Because...” How do I want to answer this? I could lie. I’m better than her, I am. I could make something up, and she’d probably never know. But what if she does? Why is this upsetting her so much? That did seem a lot like one of Rarity’s mood swings. Is she just cracking up? If she is, there’s no telling how irrational she’ll act. I catch her eyes and try to weigh my options.
Then I take a breath.
“Because I don’t have anything in Equestria,” I say, swallowing and matching her gaze. “Nothing worth going back to.”
“What about friends?” she replies, with a quick and demanding cadence.
“What about them?” I ask. “I’ve got lots of ponies who adore me. Or haven't you noticed?” I shoot the words out, quick and snide, even as my throat starts to get tight. “I have lunch with somepony and by the end of it, they’ll throw themselves in front of a train for me.”
“The Princess?” she asks.
“The Princess pities me,” I snap, my own voice rising now. I could... keep it check, if I had to. But she wants sincerity, and it comes easy now. “When I was young, she tried to teach me to be a wizard. A wizard! I’ve flunked every magic exam I’ve ever taken. She taught me because Twilight Sparkle was a wizard, and I’m her understudy!” The words come out hotter than I’d meant, and I have to take a second to swallow, rein things back in.
“I don’t know why the Princess picked me to be her student,” I say, “But it wasn’t because of merit. I’m not heroic, I’m not kind, I’m not talented. I just... I don’t know. Something.” I take a breath, shoving my mane back behind an ear. “And I’d rather die trying to do the right thing down here than live up there as her pet.” I take another breath, continuing in a calmer tone. “But you need me to go back for the ransom, so whatever, I’ll cope. Let me save Green and I’ll say you saved me and we’re all hugs and rainbows.”
Trixie doesn't say anything at first: another long silence. I can tell she’s mulling it over, taking her time to calm down and work out a way to—
“Very well,” she says.
Wait, what? “I’m sorry?” I ask, tilting my head to signal she needs to clarify.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie will accede to your request,” she says, lifting her head and reverting back to her pompous little act, a shake of her head making that ridiculous silver mane of hers flick behind an ear. “Much as Trixie was looking forward to the considerable sum Celestia would part with to have you, you’re quite right that you aren’t worth as much as Trixie’s ongoing relations with the surface. Under such circumstances, Trixie’s only reasonable course would be to have you killed on the spot.” She finishes with a sharp glance my way, a look that conjures images of wiredolls and their cables.
“Still.” She softens her look, tilting her head at me. It’s obviously fake, but it’s meant to look fake. “There’s no sense in letting you go to waste. Rarity can kill you for Trixie. And who knows? Maybe you’ll stick a knife in her first.” She snorts. “Though Trixie doubts it.”
Wait... what?
“That’s... it?” I ask, hesitantly. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that you have blackmailed Trixie, and a time will come when Trixie makes you regret that,” Trixie answers, with a cold, hard tone. “But for the time being, Trixie will indulge this childish request. Now get out and wait in the elevator. Trixie needs to talk to Berry.”
I glance at Berry, glance at Trixie, but that was the sort of dismissal where I will anger her if I don’t leave immediately. Crossing that would be unwise in the best of circumstances, and with her recent outburst... no. I nod my head, turn, and walk out, headed back to the lift.
It’s a short trip, through the den, down the hall, and past the guards, but my head is swimming the whole time. That should not have worked. I didn’t win—Trixie threw the match. But why? It doesn't make any sense. Even if she took my threat seriously, she should have at least pushed a little harder, tried to see if that was all bravado or if I’d cave. She didn’t haggle or bluff, she just... what? Gave in?
I thread my way back through the dolls and step into the transparent lift. Vision is there, watching me as I watch it. I hate it, but it is beautiful. Think, Siren. What just happened?
I stare at the city for a while, and think it over, but nothing comes to mind. Her questions were odd, starting with the observation about the mantle. She doesn't seem the type to talk to herself that way. And that outburst...
“Ground floor,” I say aloud, and the lift doors shut. Berry will be able to find me, I’m sure.
The lift sinks quickly, my weight briefly diminishing as it plunges. For a time, the city seems to rise up around me, but then the darkness cuts me off, and all I can see is the stone rushing past. Such an odd feature, to have this moment of darkness and no light in the elevator. It must be intentional, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe it’s just a stylistic choice.
Neptune’s Bounty reappears one slice at a time, until the glass lift is hovering over it all—the grid of forcefields, the neat square buildings. It looks okay, but it’s not the same as the city proper. It has a sort of elegance, a mystery, a power in all those assembly lines, but it lacks the grand indifference of the city itself. That high ceiling and open space makes too much of an effort to be friendly. It’s not cruel enough to be beautiful.
“Wow that sounded like something Rarity would say,” I mutter, glancing down at the floor. “Way to channel your inner psychopath there, Siren.”
I spend the rest of the lift ride just looking at my hooves.
It doesn't take long for the lift door to open and let me out. There’s still nopony in the circle, other than the drivers, and I don’t feel like bothering them. Instead, I wander out into the park. From how empty it is, there’s probably some rule against my being here, but I really don’t care. There’s grass, and trees, and a wind blowing. It’s easy to shut my eyes and pretend I’m back home, and for a while, I do. I find a place to sit under an apple tree and just... think.
The grass is nice. It’s soft and lush. The tree is a real tree, and the bark is rough when I lean against it. That... that’s nice. That helps me think.
Clears up a few things.
I crack an eye open when I hear hoofbeats approaching. Purple. I shut my eyes again.
“Hello, Berry,” I say when she gets close. “How did your little chat go?”
“I will be permitted to assist you in rescuing Green,” Berry answers. I can hear that she’s right beside me, probably just standing there and staring.
“I’ll try to feign sounding surprised,” I reply with a weary tone. I am tired, but that’s not the reason why. “What’s really going on here, Berry?”
She doesn't answer, and after a while, I open my eyes and look at her. She’s staring at me, ears up and alert, her face the same blank mask it always is. Just watching. Waiting for me to go on. So I do.
“Eighty-six thousand benches,” I say, gesturing back towards the street and the factory skylights there. “Assuming she charges a bit for each one, that’s... what? About six tons of gold?”
“Closer to two,” Berry answers.
“Whatever,” I snap. What a shock, the wind-up pony is good at math. “A lot. And somehow, I doubt benches are the most valuable thing she makes here. I bought that ransom story because it fit what I knew at the time, but I didn’t know much. And now...” I let out a breath.
“Even if Celestia emptied the royal treasury for me, and she would not, I’m not sure there’s enough money in it for Trixie to care. I keep forgetting that this place isn’t a city—it’s a very compact empire.” Berry shows no reaction other than to tilt her head a little, so I suppose I’ll have to ask. “Berry, why does Trixie actually want me? Why did she just let me go? Why are you helping me?”
“Celestia has things other than money that Trixie—”
“No, horseapples. I’m not buying that,” I snap. I think I actually surprised her a little. Not that she shows it, but she falls quiet at once. “Celestia doesn't consider deals made under duress binding. Any kind of deal or political concession Trixie got out of me would be void the second she handed me over. There are magical artifacts I guess, but Celestia’s not going to give away anything really dangerous for me, and Trixie would know that!” I snarl out the last few words, my tail lashing as I glare at Berry.
“I’m not a child, Berry! And I’m not stupid,” I say, rising from where I’m leaning on the tree and shaking myself out. “Trixie wasn’t surprised to see me with a Daring Do cutie mark. So you told her that. Did you neglect to mention that I wanted to go home? Or did you two set this up?” I demand. “Berry, answer the question!”
Berry doesn't answer for a while. Her tail twitches, once.
“Yes,” she says.
I swear, I’ll destroy you Berry. One day, when you least expect it.
Tempting as it would be to say that out loud, I force myself to take a slow, calming breath. “If you don’t tell me why you and Trixie are helping me, I will do this without you. Even if it means fighting you both.”
“You lack the capacity,” Berry replies.
“The last time I ignored a pony’s ulterior motives because they were helping me was Rarity,” I reply with just the right amount of emphasis on the last word. She knows what I mean. “I’m not joking, Berry. I won’t get another innocent pony killed because I wasn’t willing to take a stand. I won’t.”
By now, I should be used to Berry’s long silences. But it’s still unnerving every time, the way she just stares at me blankly while the cogs in her head turn.
“Trixie has debts,” she finally says.”Debts which she hoped returning you to Equestria would repay. Several things you said made it clear that was no longer a viable option. She acceded simply to get you out of the office and then discussed her next move with me at length. I was able to persuade her that actually letting you try was the best means to attempt to salvage the situation.”
“Convenient that you suddenly take my side once I’m not in the room to confirm it,” I say, with a healthy side of skepticism. Berry shrugs. “So she’s in debt to the Princess then? What, did the Princess do her a favor? And what about you? What’s your angle on all this?”
Berry just shakes her head.
“That’s not good enough, Berry!” I shout, bristling and leaning up to get right into her face. It’s the only thing I can do to get to her, making her step back so that we don’t touch.
“You are becoming emotional,” she replies.
“Yes, Berry! Yes, I’m becoming emotional!” I bellow, not paying any attention to whatever ponies might be watching us. “I’m sick of being everypony’s pawn. I’m sick of being the damsel in distress, and I’m sick of getting ponies killed! I want to make things right again, but I just keep making them worse!”
My breath is coming too fast now, and my eyes are starting to sting. “For all I know, Trixie is just like Rarity and you’re her version of Quick March. What’s she do? Boil ponies in acid? Stomp on kittens? You know, the sort of things you do to relax after a long, hard day enslaving and mutating your subjects!” I’m becoming hysterical at the end, and I know it, but Berry doesn't react. She just stares at me. Watches me as I pant.
As I breathe. Force myself to calm down. Even, calming breaths.
“Sorry,” I say, eventually. My heart’s pounding, my head swimming, but, I’m calmer. Breathing under control. “Sorry.” Still, she says nothing.
“Sorry,” I say again.
“Trixie believes that helping you will repay an old debt,” Berry says. “And I am her servant.”
“If you’re just doing this because she’s your boss, why’d you set me up in the office that way?” I ask. I can’t trust her answers, but she’s not good at lying. There’s more to it than just a poker face.
“I must serve Trixie’s best interests as I understand them,” she answers, with her usual dead intonations. “That is not the same thing as blind obedience.”
“And I’m supposed to believe it’s that simple?” I ask, fixing her with a pointed look. For all the good it will do.
“No,” she says. She doesn't elaborate.
“Well... fine,” I say, shaking my head to clear it. “If that’s all I’m getting... fine. You did technically tell me why you and Trixie want to help me. I’ll take it. Let’s go find Echo.”
I turn, and Berry follows, the two of us trotting through the streets. The trip back is as uneventful as the trip there, just long streets and lines of ponies. Berry doesn't lead us back to the train station though. This time, she’s angling for a hoofbridge that leads back into the city.
“How are we going to find him?” I ask when I’ve had enough time to clear my head and get my voice under control.
“I know a pony who collects wiredoll tokens, particularly from security officers. He owes Trixie a favor,” she says plainly. “If we are lucky, he will have the means for us to contact Echo.”
“And if your friend doesn’t have Echo’s token?” I ask.
“Then we will try something else,” Berry says, and I guess that’s a fair answer. We’re the only ones on the hoofbridge—though from the pair of wiredoll guards on the end, I guess it’s VIPs only. They let Berry through without a second glance, of course. We’re about halfway across when something suddenly occurs to me.
“Hey, Berry,” I say, looking her way. “I just realized—I never asked what happened with security. After Rarity caught you, I mean.” She says nothing, of course, just trotting along. “Won’t there be wanted posters for you and stuff?”
“No,” she says.
“Why?” I ask. “How’d you get away?”
“Cleverly,” she answers.
We walk for a while in silence.
“Fine. Keep your secrets then,” I say. And of course, she does.
Stats
Page generated in 0.049 seconds
Total duration
851 users online
1,239,173 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
No, Siren, I don't think you do. And stop following so closely.
I'm starting to wonder just why it is that Celestia made Siren her pupil. It just seems silly for Celestia to have picked out a pupil from a orphanage, and for Celestia to have tried to train Siren in an art she never showed talent or interest in. Then again, she was desperate, and Siren may have faked interest to please Celestia.
And what debt could Trixie, with an endless army of metal ponies armed with benches, possibly owe Celestia that Trixie can't ignore? I don't think Berry has ever lied, so I can't just throw that line out. Then again, Berry never said the debts were owed to Celestia, or that Celestia would be involved in cancelling debts by having Siren returned. The "Siren's memories were faked" idea falls apart if someone wants Siren returned to Equestria.
--
Typo
Hallelujah! it's here, it's here!
It's a pity it didn't get quite the page you'd been hoping for, but then that's how EQD does stories, and Siren Song already had a page up.
Not that it does anything to belittle the fun of being back in Song's mind again, of course!
10 words into chapter one and you already have my attention, annoying. So far its coming up really interesting, I get the feeling that Siren is finally really trying to be better, but even with the 'Daring Do' she is struggling, but it is helping. So far the only scene that felt kinda odd to me was the Temperance bottle scene at the end of chapter 1, I don't really get the point of the scene or what it was trying to show me, although that might just be me forgetting about something in the first story.
I'm not sure if I'll keep reading the story until its finished though, I hate having to wait for new chapters.
4288421
Well sir, in this one particular instance, I am happy to annoy you! I am also pleased to remind you the story will be updating weekly, so you won't have to wait long.
Omigosh the sequel is out! Let's see what Siren's going to do in this arc. Also, still don't believe that Twi is dead.
4288648
You are good people
And now to read
Awesome, awesome, awesome!
I've been waiting for this day for a long time. Siren Song was the first fanfic I read on this site, and it inspired me to make a profile and join in on this site. So awesome to see its sequel to be finally out!
4113038 This is one story I'm not going to think about.
I just imagine myself happily nuking the city to radioactive waste and stop worrying and learn to love the bomb.\
Hot damn!
4288421 It's kind of a recovery chapter. Where at the end of book one Siren was willing to throw it all away by downing the mysterious Daring Do, the fact that she decides to turn down Temperance, even though it would make things easier for her, shows that she still feels she has something worth living for. It also helps highlight that Berry doesn't care too much about her own life, as she was willing to give up her share of the Temperance ("her weekly medicine").
The new Daring Song is willing to face her fears and do what she needs to, throwing away some of the obfuscating lies and self-loathing, and becoming stronger for it.
It's here...
i1.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/641/298/448.jpg
4289283
That's the thing though, I don't remember what Temperance was supposed to do, I only vaguely remember it being mentioned in the first story.
I have been working on a pet theory for some time now. A lot of things in this story have made me think that there is so much more going on in the background then we are lead to believe, and not just the obvious stuff either like what Trixie's real intentions are.
My main conspiracy theory is that I think that Siren Song is a blood relative of Twilight Sparkle; a daughter or a niece -her coloring would explain a lot if that last was true- I think that that's why Celestia took her under her wing, why she tried to teach her magic before she knew what her special talent was going to be. It explained why they tested Siren's blood to see if she was who they thought her to be. Why Trixie's helping her in the first place is a little unclear, unless her relationship with Twilight changed drastically sense the shows story.
Her age fits as well I think, I'm not really sure; its been some time sense I've read the first story. The only thing that's left vague is what really happened during the blighted time before the exodus to Vision. All we have heard so far in that respect is propaganda and a few statements akin to what green has given. Until we hear it from one of the Elements of Harmony, then I guess we just have to keep on guessing.
W-wait. This is happening? As in now? I'm freakin' out, man!
4288719
Oh come on. What sort of Bioshock crossover would have a huge twist reveal at the end about somepony being dead, or secretly being somepony else? That's crazy. You are a crazy person.
Also my reveal would totally be more creative than that.
4288828
I'm not a person I'm a pony.
4288954
Thank you! I shall aim not to disappoint. Book 2 was a long time in coming but I think the result shows it.
4289156
No. No. No. Noooo. Nooo, guy. No. That's not going to happen. That's silly.
The rest of the book is about tea parties.
4289283
I love it when people get exactly what I intended out of a scene or line unprompted. It feels like a validation of all my character building. Not that I'm saying your totally right, but you did make me smile quite a bit.
4289381
Temperance is the mantle that inhibits Berry's ability to feel and express emotion.
4289466
I cannot confirm of deny anything, of course, but I love me some speculation.
4289765
That part was tricky. I know I've already mentioned in my blog how many rewrites that first part went through, but it was a lot of effort to hit that line of Daring Do having a noticeable effect, without taking away anything that makes Siren herself. Like Rarity said, mantles are cumulative, not subtractive.
Poor Siren. Life would be so much simpler if you were actually a psychopath instead of just a manipulative jerk.
Also there's so much I want to say about your Berry comments, but I can't without spoilering. Suffice it to say the pony of mystery will get a few moments to shine yet.
I had no idea. My roommate, who advised me for a good part of that scene, has relatives who struggle with skitzophrenia. While the markers' condition isn't based on any particular actual mental illness, I tried to recreate the general feelings and experiances he had regarding his relatives as they slipped away, and regarding the family members who then fell directly or indirectly under his care.
4289794
Ahh, ok, thanks for letting me know. I kept coming back to the temperance movement which just made it confusing, since I was thinking it was to solve Berry's usual fan drinking issues. (shes almost always played as an alcoholic in fanfic.)
One typo I noticed- “Trixie fails to see how,” Trixie replie," missing the d on replied.
Maybe it's just me, but over these first two parts, something has been bothering me. It seems like Siren isn't describing her surroundings the same way she used to. Like here: "Such an odd feature, to have this moment of darkness and no light in the elevator. It must be intentional, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe it’s just a stylistic choice." I would have expected her to come up with several theories, rather than just dismiss it. She's doing a lot less analysis of the environment around her. Now I wonder, is that the Daring Do, a subtle response to the trauma with Rarity, or the author thinking that he might slip into the trap of over-description? I choose to believe it's a reaction to the cruelty of beauty shown to Siren by Rarity, because that implies the most mastery of the craft on your part.
4289867
In Book 1, Berry stated that she was given Temperance as an anti-depressant after her attempted suicide. However, the reference to her alcoholism and the temperance movement is intentional. As Siren said in book 1, "You know why two cups symbolizes temperance, Berry? Because it stands for watering down wine... and that's you, Berry. You're watered down until nothing's left."
4289945
Corrected.
I don't want to say *too* much about this, since the point of a story is to see what you think of it on your own, but I do want to at least give this a mention. The trait you're pointing out is definitely intentional, but it's due to a lot of little things. One concern I had with this chapter -- and with Book 2 as a whole -- is that anything that changed about Siren would be ascribed to Daring Do. Siren will also be acting differently because she's tired, injured, emotionally traumatized, in urgent need of a good tail brushing, etc. At first, I tried to keep all these factors independent, but eventually I decided to run with it, and make Siren's muddled emotional state part of her character development. I'm not sure quite how it will go over, but we'll see.
4289980
as I said before, I had a feeling it was referring to something I had forgotten. But the only context for it in the scene was referencing the earlier story, which I forgot so by itself, it didn't make sense to me.
Vision Book Two? This old thing? Ah yes, I recall reading this sometime back in July.
Just ignore the smartass editor. Y'all are in for a treat. Well worth the wait!
"Behind the desk is a long, narrow corridor lined with shelves, and at the end, I can see that it opens into a larger space."
I find it odd that there's no description given of the shelves' contents; even if they were empty, I'd expect that to be noted.
And the end of the chapter! Vision is back. :)
I might want to try and find the time to reread Siren Song sometime soon… I have so much on my reading list already, though...
Ah, I remember faving the prequel to this when the first chapter came out.
*Does not actually contain Daring Do
4291703
Oh my god that's hilarious I must find a way to make this canon.
4291719 Who made the TvTropes page?
I cannot upvote this enough. Have been waiting for this since you finished "Siren Song".
This *is* the best Bioshock crossover I've read on here, hands down.
God I'm glad this story is back, puts a smile on my face. So who of the main characters dies first? Just a guess but Jack from BS1 killed the leaders of the different sections on his way to Ryan. Though with this story I've always been pleasantly supprised, good chapter's can't wait for more.
This continues to be a richly psychological pile of soul-crushing angst. I look forward to the
because dear Celestia you write it so well.
4291744
That most generous and astute soul, Nothing Productive.
4291761
Thank you!
4291923
Silly, ponies don't die. They just go to the great pasture in the sky. Which is cool because then it's really easy for their pegasus friends to visit.
4294474
You look forward to the Rarity? Cause we got lots of Rarity!
WHY WAS I NOT AWARE OF THIS
4296961
Woo-hoo!
I was wondering where you were. I eagerly await your thoughts.
Awesome sequel proves to be awesome.
Also: Song wanting to rescue Green is the best thing she's wanted to do in the story- but she doesn't really seem like she has a chance.
4296985
Now I have to read it right now. 
Oh great
Is there a source for that amazing cover art?
Siren is really having this strange on-off situation with Berry. One moment she's apologizing for being a jerk, the next has her picking it right up again and bullying her.
4289794
Wouldn't expect any less from an author of your calibre. Now onto speculation.
1) Twilight is alive, and is the Tenenbaum of the story (too straightforward)
2) Twilight is alive, but incapacitated so that another is using her as a mouthpiece.
3) Twilight is dead, and another is using her as a cover name
4) Twilight is alive, but warped into some unspeakable horror (or alicorn)
Some of the things of the top of my head.
Beautiful
That is beautiful.
Found a typo.
So far, this story is just as engaging as the first story. I admit that I'm not as thoughtful about a story's outcome as some of the other commenters are, so I probably won't be commenting as often or in length.
However, this story is amazing. Thank you for writing this!
4294490: Edit: what you said about ponies going to the great pasture in the sky was hilarious.
I remember Berry very explicitly shaking Diamond Tiara's hand in her chapter. This combined with Berry's whole touching aversion has led me to believe that her hoofs or whole body have a layer of some sort of poison on them. This was further supported by this chapter, with DT's fate and Berry's "answers", yet contradicted with Berry reaching out to stop Trixie. The most likely explanation I can think of for this is that Trixie has immunized herself to the poison, and perhaps even uses it herself.
The reason I bring this up is point out what I enjoyed most this chapter. Siren is smart. In more ways than I'd like to admit to myself, she is smarter than I am. She makes connections, notices details, and comes up with ideas that wouldn't be able to. Her stratagem to force Trixie's hoof, her analysis of tone and word choice during the speech, even her figuring out that Trixie makes more than enough money and wouldn't need any from Celestia. But she is also dumber than me. She constantly makes mistakes, misses obvious ( at least to me) things, and reads people the wrong way. She's never noticed any connection between Berry touching people and death (whether or not there actually is one). She misread Trixie needing a lot of time to think about her decision. This is vital for me, because a story where the narrator reveals the solutions to all the puzzles before I had a chance to figure them out would be either convoluted or insulting, while a story where the narrator is an idiot and cannot solve any puzzles themselves is generally boring.
Siren Song is a perfect opportunity not to try to solve the story's puzzles, but rather to solve both what Siren missed, and mistook. All while being blown away by what she managed to get right. She would be a fun debate partner.
So I kinda see the mantles effect now. One she was able to finally admit to herself despite her pride that she’s pink though that could be the city and she’s starting to realize it just doesn’t matter, and she had the metaphorical balls to stand up to Trixie and even blackmail her.
9325405
Yup!
Previously, Siren would not have done that.