Sweetie Belle
Green’s knife glitters, no, gleams in the darkness. With the entire knife enveloped in the pink glow of my telekinesis, the blade itself is barely visible, a shadow outlined by a bright corona. That’s bright enough though, and every once in a while, the polished metal catches the light off the tip of my horn, and I see a brief flash in the darkness. A sparkle in light red.
My instinct is to support the whole knife at once, but with a little conscious effort, I force myself to grip only the handle. The pink glow recedes from the blade, enveloping the handle alone and casting the rest of the weapon into a dim illumination. It gives me much finer control over the blade, enabling me to twist it this way and that quickly, but it feels weak. I can’t apply nearly as much force, and my telekinesis wasn’t that strong to begin with. I consider shifting back, but no. That’s what the handle is there for. This is the proper way to do it.
The tip of the knife breaks the skin so easily that I don’t even realize I’ve made contact until the blade starts to drip onto the floor. My lack of raw strength doesn’t matter at all—the metal cuts without resistance, gracefully sliding forward as its delicate curves so gently split the flesh. It’s beautiful. I’d initially planned to just... well, jam it in, but that seems brutish now. This is more interesting.
I lean in close, brightening my horn a bit so I can see it all. I didn’t realize how much give the blade has. It’s hard, yes, but also flexible, bending very faintly under pressure. Supple, I’d call it, with smooth curves that slice open flesh and hard edges that crush it. Strong but feminine. It’s nice to just twist the knife and watch the flesh crumple and distort. The blade is soaked by now, and the handle is getting wet, but that hardly matters. There wouldn’t be much point if it didn’t produce.
I notice there’s teeth on the back of the blade—a serrated edge. I wonder if that—
“Will you stop that?” Echo snaps, slamming his hoof on the ground for emphasis. I jump back as my head jerks up, and my telekinesis winks out, sending the knife and apple both tumbling to the floor. The apple lands next to my hooves with a thud, while the knife clatters and slides away. With a shock like that, it’s a small mercy I don’t lose my light spell as well and plunge us all into darkness for the trouble.
“I’m just eating an apple,” I snap defensively, snatching it back up off the ground. That’s exactly the wrong tone for this situation and I know it, but he caught me off guard. I don’t like the way he’s twisted around and glaring at me.
“Ms. Song, I can actually hear that apple screaming for mercy and it’s mildly unnerving.” Echo growls the words out as he sharply flicks his tail. The motion disturbs a few of his tools, and they make a faint jingle against the stone. Dark metal. No shine there. “It’s also distracting and this lock is complicated. So if you don’t mind?”
It takes me a second more to find the knife, off where it skittered into the shadows. I levitate it back and pull some gauze out of my belt, using it to wipe the apple juice away. I don’t want it getting sticky in its sheath, and besides, I need to get back on the right hoof with Echo. Ignoring him while I clean the blade makes my point, and it’s several full seconds before I acknowledge he spoke. “I’ve never used a knife before. I want to get a feel for it before we meet Rarity.”
“Isn’t that what I’m here for?” Echo asks. He pretends to be gruff, but I can tell he’s actually upset—the folded back ears and the tightness in his wings are a dead giveaway. Not that it matters.
“In theory. Then again, it would hardly be the first time you disappointed a mare,” I shoot back, borrowing a bit from Rarity’s cadence. Not all the way so it sounds like I’m mimicking her, but just a bit. The smooth intonations. “You either do the job or you don’t, you know? So shut up and pick the lock.”
I can see it worked, as his expression darkens. Boom, nailed it! He glowers at me for a moment, exactly like I anticipated, but then turns back ahead, picking up his tools again. Hah, I totally got him.
Yeah.
After a second, I put the knife away.
Echo is right, really. Not about the apple thing—that’s just normal curiosity—but about him being the one to kill Rarity. It’s why he’s here, and if he really needs help, Berry is there. I’d only get in the way. I’m mostly just bored, and fiddling helps me keep my mind off things.
After a moment more of listening to the gentle sounds of Echo’s tools, I pull up the apple and take a bite. My forward teeth slide in through the gap the knife made and tear out a chunk, leaving most of its side missing. It’s sweet, and juicy, without so much as a bruise to show for the impact, and the skin and flesh make a pleasant crunching as I chew. Good apple.
We’ve been in the tunnel for hours now, though without a watch, I’ve no idea exactly how long. The entire thing is rigged with traps and alarms to prevent a pony from doing exactly what we’re doing, and Echo has to disarm each one in turn. It’s never anything obvious—to me, the corridor looks empty—but Echo can see them. And so we’ve spent the last few hours walking a few dozen paces, then stopping so Echo can poke at the floor for a while, then doing it all again. Sometimes, a pressure plate or an enchanted crystal will pop out of a previously invisible panel, but usually, the only sign that it’s safe is that Echo says it is.
Which makes it a little worrying just how heavily he’s been drinking for the last while, but the one time I tried to take his flask away, his expression turned so hostile I had to back away for fear of getting stabbed. He didn’t threaten, but I saw it in his eyes, and I didn’t try again. Still, no alarms yet.
Berry was no help, of course. I glance over at her, but all she’s doing is blankly staring at Echo, still keeping herself between me and him. We haven’t really talked about what’s going to happen when we get to the end. It’s nice to think that Rarity will be asleep in her bed and we can just... do it. But I know that’s wishful thinking. We’ll probably walk into an empty bedroom and wing it from there. Save Green first, I guess, then go looking for Rarity.
We also haven’t talked much about what’s going to happen when we find Green, but I don’t want to talk about that. Or even think about it. I don’t have the faintest idea how we’re going to unpetrify her. Trixie must know ponies who can help with that, so I suppose we’ll take her back to Neptune’s Bounty. And then... I don’t know. But I really don’t want her to go back to that horrible apartment. She deserves better.
I take another bite of the apple.
It’s good. It really is. Crunchy and sweet with just a little tang to it, and a skin that makes that distinctive snap when you bite through it. I have no idea how old it is. Produce from New Apple Acres never goes bad, so for all I know, it’s been sitting in Applejack’s cabinet for years. I don’t even see any indentations on the side where it hit the ground. It’s weird to think that it didn’t even bruise, but it’s nice. I guess unnatural isn’t always bad. Or at least it comes with benefits.
This really isn’t the sort of thing I should be thinking about. I should be planning, or thinking about what I’m going to say to Green, or... or just being worried. Feeling something, I guess? I’m going to kill a pony and save another. I’m going to make it all right again. I should be giddy, or nervous, or guilty, or nauseous. But all I feel is a little tense.
Maybe that’s the Daring Do kicking in.
“Hey, Berry?” I ask her. “I’m feeling a little... I don’t know. How do I tell if the Daring Do is working?”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at me. But I’m pretty sure it’s working.
I’ve about finished off the apple by the time Echo says, “Done,” and a little click sounds from inside the wall panel he’s been poking at. As the sound carries, a section of it no larger than my hoof slides out and falls to the floor, a mess of metal gears and tiny gemstones embedded in the back. I’ve no idea what it does, but Echo is already putting his tools away, so it evidently doesn’t matter.
“Great. How many are left?” I ask as he sweeps up his tools. He emptied his flask awhile ago, but he just so happened to have a spare bottle of gin in his saddlebags, so he doesn’t have to go without. It’s Old Times, that same caustic rot they had in the cafe, and he takes a swig from it as he finishes up. I think it might be best if Berry and I teamed up to take that bottle away from him. At this rate, he won't be able to see straight soon.
“None,” he says, sneering at me, his eyes hidden under the shadow created by my horn. So much for that plan. Probably for the best. “The next one is Rarity’s door. That’ll go fast. It’s an old Sparkle-28. Wind-up trash.”
“Good.” I nod, tossing the apple core off into the hall. For a second, I worry about leaving evidence behind—but then I realize all these disarmed traps probably make that redundant. “Alright. How do we do this?” The two knives come cleanly out of their sheaths, hovering beside me in the faint pink light.
“If Rarity isn’t home, we do it quietly,” he answers, putting the last of his tools away. “Sneak around, find your friend, and then leave Rarity a parting gift under her mattress. We’ll be on the other side of the city before she dies.”
“And if she is home?” I ask, watching as Berry pulls something out of her own saddlebags. It looks like a fancy baton of some kind, made of shiny steel. It doesn’t seem very dangerous, but then again, not drawing attention is kind of her thing.
“Then I stab you in the knees and run while she’s busy skinning you alive,” Echo answers, taking another long draw off the gin. He’s not serious, I know, but I don’t like the way he’s hitting on that bottle. A drunk is a drunk, but I know a downward spiral when I see it.
He slides the bottle under the crook of his wing when he’s done and pauses to activate the blades on each of his hoof weapons, making the knife flick out with a little click. “Don’t you worry though. She won’t be home. Let’s go.”
The corridor is narrow, with room enough for two ponies to stand side by side, but only if their shoulders touch. None of us feel that cozy, which leaves us in a rough single file: Echo in front on the right, Berry between us on the left, and me on the rear in the right. My horn is our only light source, which leaves everything in strange shadows. Echo’s turned pink with a black mane, while Berry seems dark all over. We don’t speak during the last leg of the journey. Echo looks ahead. I look at him. Berry doesn't look at anything at all—that glassy, empty stare of hers.
There’s no ladder this time, just a door, full-size, embedded into the wall ahead of us. One of those shiny metal security doors with the crystal in the middle. There’s no fiddling with funny-shaped tools this time. Echo just motions for silence, then reaches into his pack and pulls out some kind of steel shell—a half dome just larger than the door crystal. He slots it into place over the activation gem, and the switch on the now out-facing half of the dome leaves little doubt as to its function. This is it.
Echo turns his head back to us. Catches my eyes. Mouths the words “Mute. The. Door,” and points at his forehead. I nod, and throw a quick silence spell over all of us—an invisible bubble that reflects sound back towards us. Nopony outside can hear a thing, but still, we don’t speak. It only takes me a second to extend the bubble to include the door, and I nod. Echo nods back.
He lifts a hoof. Throws the switch.
And with a hiss, the door slides open.
Wood. A solid, wooden barrier. Lacquered hardwood. I don’t understand, so I turn my head to check Berry and Echo. She’s flatfaced, but he still looks alert, creeping forward. The barrier reflects sound inward, and so his every movement takes on an unnaturally loud, reverberating quality. I can hear his tight breathing, the faint clink of his hoof weapons on the stone. He taps the wooden barrier, ever so gently, and I hear the tap three times.
It’s only when my lungs start to burn that I realize I’m holding my breath. Right. Both of my knives are glowing, all the way up the blade. I shift my grip down. Just the handle. Okay. If she’s there, I’m going to rush her. No waiting. Just rush her and—and plunge it in. Even if it is brutish. This is about getting a job done, not savoring the moment.
Echo slides his rear to the ground, digging both forehooves into the wooden barrier. I hear the bottle clank as it shifts under his wing, hitting one of his shiny pins or something. He strains, and slowly, the wall slides away. Rollers. He doesn’t open it more than a hoof’s width before he stops to peer through. A shaft of brilliant light shines around him, and I have to squint into it, reducing him to a shadowy outline. I can’t see over him. What is it? Is Rarity there?
No. No. He’s too relaxed for that. Already, he’s nudging the barrier the rest of the way open, getting a hoof into the crack and using the leverage to push. It slides away, and the Pavilion’s too-bright light shines in. For a moment, I’m blinded. I’d forgotten how white it was, how bright, how everything shines and gleams. It only lasts a moment though, before my eyes start to clear.
A couch. A table with old magazines scattered around it. A metal floor. To the right, a set of double doors, and when I creep forward and look left, a domed ceiling. A pony made of glass. The reflecting room!
“Well, this used to be Rarity’s—” Echo starts, but I don’t wait. I shove past him and Berry, round the corner to the left, and rush into the room!
But Epiphany isn’t there. The room is back to its default state. Nothing in the middle but the reflecting chamber. And ponies made of glass.
“Watch it!” Echo hisses, coming up behind me at a quick step. I hear Berry move up as well. “No running. A guard could hear.”
“I moved the silence spell with us. No guards will hear us,” I say, tersely. I’ve no mood for his snapping at me. Not now! “Lucky too, because the nearest guard is just on the other side of that door.” I point back at the main exit. “If it weren't for me, you’d already be caught.”
“If it weren’t for you, I’d be safe at home,” he retorts, though he does look at the door. “Fine then. Are we near Rarity’s quarters?”
“I’m... not sure,” I admit. “She never invited me to her bedroom. I know where her office is, but it’s four floors down from us and most of the way around the concourse. There’s like a million guards along the way.”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Echo says, turning to face the door we just came through. He’s pulling another tool out of his main pack. A telescoping pole that lets him reach up into the door mechanism when it’s retracted into the ceiling. I don’t understand.
“What are you doing?” I ask bluntly. It’s not that I don’t trust him. It’s that I don’t trust him and he’s a violent drunk.
“Disabling the emergency lock,” he says, mouthing the words around the pole handle. It doesn’t take very long—just a quick twist of the pole and he’s done. After that, he spits it out, and for a moment, the bottle of gin takes its place.
“All the doors in Vision have a secondary locking mechanism,” he says, wiping his mouth with a hoof. A sharp shove with his hind legs restores the sliding shelf and hides the door, after which he puts the bottle back under his wing. “To shut them in case of an emergency. I don’t want this one shutting behind us.” He says it gruffly, but that seems reasonable enough. “If I can handle Rarity, you think you can get Green on your own without being caught?”
Now that I think about it, I don’t know... exactly where Green is. I guess I assumed she’d be on display here with Epiphany, but this is just the glass works. I’ve been in Rarity’s galleries before, but they were just dresses and paintings and such. I’ve never seen where she keeps her real art.
But if I tell Echo that, he’ll blow his stack. “Yeah, no problem,” I say.
“Good.” He folds the pole up and puts it back into his saddlebag, then he twists around, reaching his muzzle back into those mysterious extra bags he’s been wearing this whole time. With the clinking sounds they’ve been making, and the fact that all his tools came out of his main set, I guess I assumed they were full of booze. When he noses into them though, all he pulls out is a pair of garish pink watches with a mess of wires jutting out of the back.
“‘Pinkie Pie Novelty Watch’?” I ask as he spits them out onto the floor. They’re ugly, cheap things, an appearance not helped by the fact that Echo has torn the backs off and connected a bunch of wiry bits to the exposed mechanisms. They still seem to keep good time though—they each say 4:22, which feels right.
“One for each of us. I’m setting the alarm to five o’clock,” he says, picking one of them up and gently using his teeth to twist the knob. I pick up the other one with my magic and do the same, just to speed things up. “You should be back down that passage with Green by then, you understand? Five is when I assume you three are out of here, and things get loud.”
“Half an hour, got it,” I say. The wires sticking out the back make it easy for me to tie the watch around my foreleg, which is probably what they’re there for. I didn’t see a strap or anything.
“Good.” He takes a breath, glancing back at the door and licking his lips. “Now, Ms. Song, if you would be so kind as to exclude me from your spell?”
I contract the perimeter, so only Berry and I are are enclosed in the bubble around us. I’m about to ask Echo what his plan is when I remember that now he can’t hear us. He doesn't look inclined to wait either. Three good exits to the reflecting room, and he trots straight to the one I just said was guarded. I ready my knives, tense for a fight.
But Echo isn’t tense. He retracts his hoof-knives, puts the bottle of gin away, and pulls out that long pole he used to disable the emergency lock. A moment later, he reaches into his bags and pulls out a set of safety goggles, then a clipboard of all things. The goggles go under his helmet visor, and he tucks the clipboard up against his chest, the pole held under a wing. What could he possibly—
“Excuse me,” he says, opening the door and sticking his head out. “How do I get to tower central control from here?”
“Oh hello, officer. Just down the hall and on your left to get onto the main passage, and then it’s all the way at the end,” a stallion’s voice says, muffled by the door. Echo thanks him and leaves, shutting the door behind him.
I can’t believe that worked.
For a little while, I can hear Echo’s hoofbeats through the door, growing steadily more quiet as he moves away. Soon though, he’s gone, and we are again enveloped in silence. I strain my ears for... I don’t know. Something. But all I hear is Vision’s lights, humming and throbbing, and the quiet hiss of its vents. Its heartbeat, and breath.
“Are we waiting for something?” Berry asks around the baton, like she has any room to complain about a pony taking their time. Fine, whatever. I glance down at the watch. Thirty-seven minutes, fifteen seconds to go.
“No. I was just... thinking. Trying to figure out exactly where Green is,” I say, looking back at her. I could use some advice right now, but all I get is her usual glassy stare. “This isn’t where I thought the tunnel would come out.”
Berry tilts one ear at me, very faintly. Still not sure what that means—if it means anything. “Did you just agree to complete a vital mission on a short time limit with no idea—”
“Shut up, Berry. When I want your opinion I’ll ask Trixie,” I snap. Technically, as long as I keep the spell up, I could shout without being heard—but I still reflexively mute my voice, hissing the words at her. “Besides I... we’re close. This is Rarity’s display room.” I gesture at the metal chamber, and its many panels and cables. “I’ve seen her pull pieces of art—her real art—up here. They pop out of those floor panels. I bet we’re right on top of her gallery.” Yeah, that sounds good. I know what I’m doing.
“Then we should find stairs,” Berry says, but I’m already shaking my head. It’s all coming together now.
“No. I don’t remember there being any stairs around here, and besides, the front door to Rarity’s secret gallery is sure to be guarded. We should find a way to activate the lift mechanism here.” I turn my head up to the ceiling and stare at the mass of cables, glass plates, filters, mirrors, cameras and more. Like the star-speckled dome of a planetarium. “She always did it with unicorn magic. I don’t think it was a spell—just telekinesis. So there’s probably a lever or something.” I don’t see any levers though.
I put my knives away, freeing up my magic. The room is brightly lit, so I can see all the cables clearly, but none of them look like a control. I’m not stupid—I’ve been backstage once or twice, and I know a counterweight control mechanism when I see it—but the setup is just so different from what I’m used to. There are no sandbags, no overloop supports. Still, if the principle is the same, it should barely take any force at all for me to operate the mechanism.
I pick a promising candidate at random and give it a gentle tug. It’s a rose-tinted plate of glass, and when I pull, it gently slides down to cover one of the lights. Across the way, a seemingly unrelated mechanism pops to life—a spinning disk positioned in front of an inactive spotlight. Okay. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. I’m getting this. Now I just need to keep trying until I find the right control.
The next cable I try dims the lights. The one after that raises the rear wall on the reflecting chamber. The one after that tints the lights red. The next one blue, the next one green. Then there are the cables that rotate the models, or pull them backwards and forwards. I’m hitting all the wrong notes, but it’s okay. There can’t be more than a hundred cables in total. I can hit those all quick enough. It doesn’t even take five minutes for me to get to the halfway point and start pulling my way around the far side of the dome. It’s irritating that I apparently picked the worst possible starting point, but it’s fine, I’ll get this. Only another fifty or so to go.
Only another forty now. Twenty five. Ten. Five. One. I pull the last cable.
The rear-left camera flashes, snapping a picture of the empty reflecting chamber.
I don’t... I give a tug of the first cable. The rose-tinted plate of glass that activated the spinner last time. This time, the spinner stays right where it is, and the reflecting chamber rotates forty-five degrees around.
The controls do different things depending on what all the others are set to? My eyes go wide as they scan over the ceiling again and I quickly do the math. There are nearly a hundred cables up there! Even if each one only has two positions, that’s got to be a million million possible combinations! It would take a thousand years to guess the combination, and I don’t even have an hour! I glance at the watch. Twenty-nine minutes, twenty seconds to go. I turn to Berry, but she just looks at me. I don’t even know why I brought her. Earth ponies are always useless and of course everything in Rarity’s private chambers is going to be activated by magic!
Okay, okay. Don’t panic, Siren. It’s fine! Just... set all the controls to exactly the way they were when Rarity summoned the muffin, and then try all of them one at a time. That’ll work. Okay, okay, so... the lights were on their default white. And the chamber was forward. And the spots were... off, I think? Or were they on? Epiphany was there. They were probably on. But which ones? The one with the tinted wheel because she was having her color test? I still don’t know what that is!
Oh, who am I kidding? I have no idea what all these controls were set to last time! And even if I did, Rarity probably has some kind of lock or secret switch guarding her artwork. She’d never let anypony steal it! There’s no way I’m getting this open. We could go around and try and find the main entrance, but there’ll be guards and I just sent away the one pony who can fight! Way to go, Siren. Way to go! You’ve always been stupid, but this is a new low even for you you worthless little stain!
I let out a shaky breath. I... no. Green is counting on me. I can’t...
I reach up and touch my cheek. My left cheek. I can’t see the compass rose, but I know it’s there. Did you hyperventilate, Siren? Did you throw up, did you faint? Were you expecting it to all be better, you stupid brat?
The deep breath comes smoothly, this time. No shaking in my chest. I just... needed a second.
“Berry, help me move the couch. We need to take cover behind it.” I move back towards the door, dragging the silence spell with me as I go. My horn is starting to burn by now—a fuzzy, painful itching. Controlling sound always came easy for me, but that usually meant little tricks, like redirecting it or changing my voice. Actually silencing an area is about the most powerful spell I know, and I’ve never kept it up this long before. I’ll need it for a bit more though.
I don’t want to push things by using my telekinesis too, but the couch isn’t that heavy, and Berry and I manage to push it around just fine. Turn it so it’s facing the room. For once, Berry doesn’t question me. She just does as I say, hunkering down behind the couch along with me. I scan the room and the ceiling, looking for the biggest, heaviest thing there. It’s a plate of glass—maybe three paces across and four high, thick, with a crystallized pattern inside. Including its metal frame, it must easily weigh five hundred pounds or more, and it’s suspended above the floor by two steel cables and two steel pins.
The first pin doesn’t come out easily. I have to yank with all my magical might—what little might I have, anyway—heaving and tugging until it snaps out of its brace. The left cable immediately goes slack, and the giant crystal plate swings to the right, now suspended only by one corner. I don’t have very long. Its swinging course takes it directly over the spot where the muffin appeared, so I need to detach it at just the right moment. It was hard enough detaching the first pin. Now all the weight is on the second. And my horn will be... otherwise occupied.
I’ve never silenced an area this big before. I altered the acoustics of an entire theater once, but that was just to add a little reverb. Tweaking sound and blocking it are two very different things. Just the thought of it is making my horn throb, that burning feeling increasing, pounding waves of hot and cold into my skull. But it’ll hurt worse if the guards hear us.
I shut my eyes and focus, my horn shining brighter and brighter as a faint whine carries. The silence spell swells outwards, its borders growing to encompass the entire room. The throbbing in my head grows to a stabbing pain, a ragged feeling, like I was trying to lift a thousand-pound weight and could feel every muscle in my legs tearing with the effort. The silence spell is already wavering at the edges, traces of noise escaping, but no, no, no! I need to do this! I grab the pin. I grab the pin and I pull as hard as I can. But all that happens is the glass plate starts swinging. The pin’s not coming out!
“Come on, come on, come on!” I yell, yanking as hard as I can. It’s not working though, the plate is just swinging more. My vision is starting to go blurry, I can’t keep this up! I need to think of something! I need to—
It’s like getting kicked by a horse. The pin comes free, and all the energy I was channeling into it suddenly has nowhere to go. Pain rushes through me, my vision blurs, my ears ring. I want to let go but I can’t! My horn is my entire world, each whisper and note of magic written in fire through my skull, screaming in my ears. I don’t even notice when it hits the floor. I’m on the floor. I’m on the floor and I’m holding my forehead and it hurts so much!
I think I pass out for a second.
When I next… collect myself, the room is dark. No, not dark. I just can’t see. My eyes are open, but my vision is full of shadows. Full of dancing spots of light. I can vaguely see the legs of the couch. The stone. Bits of pillows. The couch has a blue pattern. It’s nice. There’s a ringing in my ears. Did I already notice that? I don’t remember noticing that, but it feels like that’s been there for a while. And there’s a thumping. A crash.
Berry is there. And a stallion in a white uniform. I wonder if he’s her friend. They seem to be hugging. Hugging really close too. Maybe he’s her very special somepony. I can’t believe they’re doing that in public but it’s okay. True love is sweet and I can just shut my eyes again.
So I do. Like I was going to take a little nap.
I don't have time for that though. It’s not all going dark like it should. My senses are getting sharper, not fading out. I can feel my head pounding, hear muffled thumps and the sound of glass crunching. There’s a whine, like a pony trying to shout, and then the thumping stops. My head really hurts. I don’t think I did any permanent damage though. The stabbing pain is gone, now that I’m not using any magic. It’s just really, really sore.
When I open my eyes again, Berry is standing over me. Watching me.
“M’okay,” I mutter, pushing myself up. My vision swims when I try, the room teetering this way and that. I have to stop, lower my head and shut my eyes, but it only lasts a second. I take a few deep breaths, and my sense of balance starts to level out. “I just had a stress faint. Just need a second.”
Berry doesn't answer, which I take to mean we aren’t in imminent danger. My head is killing me, but the more my senses clear, the more certain I am I’m not seriously harmed. All that strain probably just dropped my blood pressure or something. I hate having to use my hooves—like a barbarian—but I’m not even going to try levitating something right now. Instead, I just reach back and fumble at my belt until I find the water bottle, nudging it out and twisting my head around to take it in my teeth. It’s not big, so a few quick gulps drains it, but I feel better. Better.
A few moments later, I open my eyes and gently push myself back to my hooves. The floor is covered in sparkling shards of glass, most of them no larger than a pony’s tooth. The couch blocked them from hitting us, at least, and when I look to the room, I can see one of Rarity’s orderlies sprawled out on the floor. A unicorn. Brown, black mane. Strong build. I think he’s still breathing, but he’s passed out on top of all the glass shards, and there’s a slowly growing pool of blood under him. Red staining his white uniform. Berry’s fancy metal baton is on the ground next to him. I guess she dropped it.
“Are there more guards coming?” I ask, turning my head to check the door. It’s shut, which seems good.
“I don’t think so,” Berry answers. “He was not alarmed or alert when he opened the door. I believe your sound spell successfully muffled the noise, and he was investigating the vibration he felt in the floor. Further, it has been some time and no alarms have sounded.”
“Some time?” I ask, urgently checking the watch. “How long was I out?” I don’t wait for her to answer. Twenty-seven minutes, forty seconds remaining. I was out for nearly a full minute? Right, okay, time to go.
Looking past the guard, I can see that the glass pane landed right on target, smashing into the floor where the muffin appeared. Right in the center of the room. There’s nothing left of the reflecting chamber but a few loose cables and broken bits of metal. And there’s more than that! Under the twisted remains of the chamber’s frame, and past the pile of broken glass, the metal flooring has buckled downwards with the force of the impact, revealing a space beneath.
Oh, thank the stars.
“Okay, uh...” Right. We need to clear the glass and that frame away. This would be quick if I had my magic, but it’ll be at least a few minutes before I can so much as make my horn glow. A full day to recover. “Berry, take the guard’s uniform and use the fabric to brush the glass away. We need to clear that hole. And be quiet—there’s no magic muffling us anymore.”
She steps away without a word, her teeth and tongue opening the buttons on his uniform one at a time as she starts to strip it away. A few seconds into her work, it occurs to me that I can help. I grab one of the couch cushions in my teeth and lower my head to the floor, pushing the broken shards away to form a path to the center.
It doesn’t take Berry long to strip the guard and start helping me, pausing only to retrieve her baton and put it back in her bag. We make slow progress, but we’re making progress. We’re about halfway there before I take a moment to look back at the guard. He’s not... injured, that I can see. A lot of cuts from the glass, yeah, but no indication of where Berry took him down. No stab wounds or anything. Maybe she thumped him in the head with the baton? It’s kind of an odd club if that’s what it’s for.
No matter.
I keep checking the watch as we go. Twenty seven minutes. Twenty six. Twenty five. Then we’re in the center of the room, clearing a path around the metal frame so we can grab it without stepping on the glass. Twenty four. Twenty three. Twenty two. The frame comes out, sending a shower of glass down into the level below. I don’t worry about it—if there were any guards down there, they would already have sounded an alarm. Twenty minutes, the last of the glass cleared.
The hole isn’t very big. The sliding plate under the reflecting chamber resisted the impact better than I thought, and it’s only deformed, not knocked fully out of place. Berry and I will probably be able to squeeze through it, but only barely. Green couldn’t fit her hips through that if she was awake and active—there’s no way we’ll be able to get her through as a statue. No matter then. We’ll find another way back up here. I lower my head and stick it through.
Right.
My angle is a little weird, coming out of the ceiling, but I can tell at a glance my guess was spot on. Below me, I can see display pedestals: the muffin, a crossbow made of crystal, a plaster statue of four ponies holding photographs, a ceremonial dagger. The floor is only four or five paces below us, and when I twist my head around, I can catch the edge of a larger room. A gallery. Perfect.
“Okay, we got it,” I say, pulling my head out and turning around, slowly lowering my hind legs down through the hole. My tail brushes the floor behind me and I have to clamp it down and shimmy. Tight fit. “The gallery is directly below us. It’s a short drop, but be careful. It’s far enough to break an ankle on a bad landing. Got it?”
Berry nods, and I slide the rest of the way down. I grip as hard as I can with my hooves, until I’m dangling by my forelegs, making the fall as short as possible. Finally, there’s nothing to do but let go, and I tumble down.
It’s a hard impact—I land on my rear left hoof, and the leg crumples under me, sending me crashing down to my side. It stings enough to make me wince, but I’m ready for it so I keep calm. With a clear head, I can tell I’ve got nothing to worry about—the pain is in my ribs, not my ankles. And it’s not that bad. It only takes me a second to recover my wits and scramble back to my hooves. And there she is. There they are.
There they all are.
I see Epiphany first. She’s at the far end of the room, in the center, frozen there in all her glory. Just the way I remember her, with her resolute expression, and her torn dress and the little bottle of water I know is under it. All the photographic plates have been moved down here as well, arranged around her exactly as they were in the chamber above. All that’s been added is a little nameplate in front of her. A little brass thing. “Heroism,” it reads, in a flowing, cursive script.
My eyes slide to the left next. Two ponies wrapped around each other. A stallion the color of the sea, his crystal wings outstretched and sparkling in the light. Held in his arms is a unicorn mare, so fair and clear she’s like a diamond, almost invisible. They’re kissing. A deep, passionate embrace. I don’t know how I can tell from so far away that they’re crying. I don’t know how but I can. I can and they are. And there’s a little name plate in front of them.
“Love,” it reads.
Next to them is a unicorn in mid-leap. He’s gorgeous, strong, and handsome, with a coat the color of blood, and eyes that shine in the lights all about him. He’s poised to attack the viewer, suspended from little wires that hold him in the air. He’s more than just angry. I can see it in his face. Everything he is is going into that punch. That single act of aggression. “Defiance,” his nameplate reads.
A pegasus spreading her wings for the sheer love of flight, the light patterns her crystal makes on the floor showing the sun and clouds. Joy. An earth pony crumpled into a ball, the light that shines through him shimmering, just like he was shaking when she took him. Fear. A grey stallion, his face frozen in an expression of ecstasy, starbursts exploding in the reflections off his coat. Lust. A mare, her hooves wrapped about her, seeming to rock back and forth as she squeezes her eyes shut. Denial.
Pride. Rage. Relief. Sorrow. Strength. Conviction. Compassion. Humiliation. Yearning. Depression. Hate. Cheer. Understanding. Betrayal.
And in the back, on the right. A green mare. A unicorn. Eyes shut, head lowered, the light that shines through her flickering and dim. Regret.
I... I should... I mean. I... it’s getting hard to breathe. My throat is tight. I don’t... I don’t want to...
I look at the floor. I look at the floor and I wait for Berry.
She slides through easily. Quickly enough, I guess. I... I don’t hear her fall, so she must have had a more graceful landing than me.
“We, um...” I say, when I hear her hoofsteps. “We should...” I turn to her for some form of support, but there’s nothing there. Nothing. “And what are you staring at?” I snap, as loudly as I dare. “Make yourself useful and check the exit for guards. We’re sure as heck not getting Green through that hole.”
She nods and trots away, heading backwards—behind me. When I turn to follow her, I can see that we’re in a secondary display area, full of relatively minor works like the muffin and ending in a huge set of ornate double doors. The doors are made of light wood and stained glass, and each depicts a purple-coated alicorn, her eyes serenely shut and her wings upraised. I’m not really sure who that’s supposed to be, but it’s elegant.
Berry cracks open the door, peers through it, and then shuts it again. “A large staircase leading upwards and four wiredoll guards. Inactive,” she says plainly, trotting back to me. “The guards are probably activated by the alarm.”
“Then let’s avoid setting anything off.” I keep my tone curt. I don’t want her taking an attitude with me—like she even could. Turning back to the main room, I can... I can take it all in a bit better. The roof in the secondary area is low, but once it gets past the edge of the reflecting room, it quickly rises. The double doors behind us are the only entrance, ushering new arrivals into the grand chamber that ends in an enormous window.
Epiphany rests under a dazzling view of the city, little alcoves to her left and right holding other ponies. The room is three stories tall, but only the first level of alcoves has been filled, making plenty of room for new arrivals. It ends in an elegant network of faux ceiling beams. Very Equestrian.
The... the architecture is... yeah. I’m good at analyzing architecture. “Are we waiting for something?” Berry asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. “We are running low on ti—”
“Shut up, Berry.” I shake myself out—starting with my mane and working down to a flick of my tail. I check the watch. Nineteen minutes, ten seconds. “Just shut up and do as I tell you.”
She doesn’t answer that, and so I start off without her and head straight for Green. She’s... she’s there. She’s right there. I come to a stop in front of her. Looking at her in the light. “...H-hi,” I say to her, voice trembling.
But she doesn’t respond.
There’s more I need to say. There’s so much more. But we don’t have time, and I can feel Berry watching me. I don’t want her seeing this. It’s not for her. It’s... private. “Alright. Let’s go,” I say, twisting around to point at Epiphany with my muzzle. “I’ll get Green. You get Epiphany.” This will be tricky without magic. Green is a pretty big pony, and while she may be in good shape, muscle weighs just as much as fat. I’ll have to carry her over my back. I lower my head, slipping in under her and—
“No,” Berry says.
What? I turn back to her. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” I demand.
“No,” Berry repeats.
“Berry, pick up Epiphany, now.” No, none of this! Not now! I deliver the word as a sharp invocation. An order!
“I cannot sneak or fight while carrying a full-grown pony on my back,” Berry replies, like it was just that simple. “Our chances of success will be drastically reduced if we try to carry two ponies at once.”
“But we’ll be saving two ponies!” I reply. How can she not get this!?
“We will save nopony if we are caught,” Berry replies, blunt and to the point. “We have inflicted obvious damage to the reflecting room. Echo’s time limit aside, every second we linger increases our chances of being detected.”
“I know that, Berry!” I hiss at her, as loud as I dare. “I know that. But Epiphany is my friend, you understand? She was there for me. She supported me when I didn’t deserve it. I can’t leave her here!”
“So save her,” Berry replies.
“I can’t carry her and Green at the same time, Berry,” I growl. “And don’t say I have to choose between them!” I give her a command, and she obeys it to the letter.
She doesn’t say anything at all.
“Do you remember friends, Berry? Do you remember what that’s like?” I ask, fixing her to the spot. Trying to get her to listen to me! “Do you remember what it’s like to have a pony you care about? That you’d do anything for? Do you remember what it feels like to care about somepony, or did Trixie actually replace your soul with clockwork?” She just stares at me. “Berry! I need this. I need to save both of them.” Still, not a word.
“Berry!” I demand. “If there is anything like a pony left inside you, you’ll help me. Please!”
We stare at each other for a long time. I don’t... I don’t know how long it is. Probably just a few seconds. But it feels like forever.
Berry doesn’t say a word.
“F-fine,” I snap. “Fine!” My voice rises, ragged and angry. “Fine, I’ll carry them both myself!” I turn back to Green, lowering my head and bending a knee to get my shoulder underneath her.
“You lack the capacity,” Berry replies. Wretched wind-up ghoul. I wish Green had killed her.
“Watch me!” I snarl, heaving with all my might. Green comes up and off her resting place, sliding onto my back.
Then, underneath her alcove, something clicks.
“No no no no no no no NO!” I shout, but it’s too late. An alarm klaxon is wailing all around us—a deep, pounding sound, overlayed by the high-ringing of a naval bell. What do I do? What do I do? The guards outside will have come to life! I can’t—
“Siren, when the guards focus on me, run” Berry says, reaching back into her bags to grab her baton. “Run for the exit and don’t stop for anything.”
“I can’t—” There’s no time for me to finish. The double doors explode inwards in a shower of shattered wood and glass, the wiredolls barreling through them without even slowing down. Berry breaks into a gallop towards them, turning to the left. She can’t possibly get around them though. There are too many and they’re too fast! One of them leaps at her, steel hooves outstretched. It’s going to hit her!
Only it doesn’t. She dives, twists, and somehow she’s under it—hooves thrusting up. She catches it in its side, and the whole thing flies through the air, crashing to the ground beside her. She rolls, twisting her hips and spine like a gymnast and coming back to her hooves on top of it. It all takes less than a second, and then she drives the baton down against its neck. I see a flash, a spark, a crackle of lightning! And the doll goes still.
“Siren,” Berry says, raising her voice, even if it’s not really a shout. What? I don’t understand. The other three guards are circling her now—keeping their distance, closing in with their superior numbers. “Siren.” Now I see why Berry split to the left. She’s drawn them all away from the door, giving me a clear path down the right to the exit. “Siren, run.”
I... I turn to the right. And I run.
I have to go. Keep to the right. Green is shaking on my back—she’s not steady. Her rear is heavier than her front, and every step makes her slide off to the side. I have to stop and push her back up before—
Metal. An impact. Green goes flying off my back as I crash to the floor, pain flooding through my ribs as the wiredoll comes down on top of me. “Get off, GET OFF!” I scream, driving my hind legs into its gut again and again. Its lifeless glass eyes are staring down at me, staring into me.
I finally manage to kick it off, and it limply rolls to the floor. It’s already sparking, twitching, little arcs of lightning crackling between its visible cogs. I don’t...
Berry’s baton is lying on the ground next to it. Less than a pace from me. Green is knocked over nearby, wobbling faintly on her side, her crystal tail making a faint clink every time it hits the ground. Another two paces away, I see Berry struggling with both remaining dolls. One is knocked onto its side, trying to right itself, and she has the other in some kind of fancy martial arts joint lock. She’s got it pinned, but it’s just so strong, pushing her back. “Sire—” she tries to say.
Then the doll on the ground rears up. Headbutts her. A metallic thud. A meaty crunch.
I grab Green and run. One leg locked around her neck, the other three to carry me. I move as fast as I can, stumbling, dragging her through the shattered doors, dragging her up the staircase on the other side. The alarm klaxon is still screaming around us, but it’s okay! The stairs go up a level. That puts me on the right floor. I can still make it!
There are two ponies there. Ponies in white. With clubs.
“Get away!” I snarl, swinging Green around to use her as a shield. She’s invulnerable, just the way Epiphany is, and I suddenly find she’s light in my hooves. So light I can hold her with a single leg! I try and advance, pushing them back, and when they finally get close, I just—I throw her! I hurl Green like a missile, and they dodge to the left and right as she smashes into the stairs, hitting so hard she sends chips of stone flying! The stairs don’t leave a scratch on her, but I don’t wait. I’m already running—charging the one on the left.
“Get away!” I scream, lowering my head just before impact. The shock travels all the way down my neck and into my shoulders, and something hits me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me and sending me tumbling down the stairs. I roll, crash to a halt, and I hear Green tumbling alongside me. Crystal makes the clearest chime when it hits stone, rolling from step to step.
Then the other guard is there. A unicorn. Club raised beside him.
“Get aw—” I try to scream, but he drives his forehoof into my gut, and then the club comes down on my face. Something crunches, pain blossoming through me. My vision swims, but I can’t go down. I can’t! He kicks me again, fire flashing through my ribs. He’s wearing horseshoes. Cold and steel.
The club hits me in the head, and the world spins, but no. No! I reach out, grab his leg as he kicks for me. Pull him down. My horn burns like nothing else as I grab my knife, yanking it from its sheath and driving it up into him. Into his undercarriage. He tries to pull away but I don’t let go! I yank it out and drive it in again, and again! I drive it in until the pain feels like my horn is going to split in half, and then I twist around and shove him down the steps!
He falls, crashing to the ground. That pristine-white uniform is all red now. He’s shaking, whimpering, clutching his hooves to his gut to try to stop the bleeding. I hit him all over the place. There are gashes in his leg, his midsection, his groin. He’s trying to stop the bleeding but there’s so much red. I turn to look up the stairs. The other guard is holding his neck the same way. Where my horn hit him. The stairs are slick now.
I... I grab Green. I grab her under one leg and I run. Up the stairs. “Come on, Green. We gotta go. We gotta go!” There’s another set of double doors at the top of the stairs. Just like the set below. There’s a hallway on the other side! There has to be!
Then the door at the top opens. Ponies. White uniforms. Clubs. “Get out of my way!” I scream, but none of them move. They’re advancing on me, another two of them. “I said get away! You want to die like your friends? I’ll snap those clubs in half and jam them down your throats!” I can’t draw my second knife yet. Where’s the first one? I left it in the stallion. I need to—
I hear the whine of gears a second before the wiredoll’s leg wraps around my neck, yanking me back. Its steel skin is cold as ice, its grip so strong it doesn’t even waver as I scream and struggle. Green tumbles out of my grasp, and I hear her crashing down the steps! “Let go of me!” I shout, but the guards are already rushing forward.
The first club hits me in the shoulder, so hard my entire body jerks to the side. Something tears. Something breaks! The next guard uses his hooves, just hitting me again and again in the gut! I can’t breathe. He keeps knocking the wind out of me! There’s a mechanical whine in my ears. My vision’s going dark. I’m kicking and flailing but I can’t hit them! A club jerks forward, smashing into my inner thigh. It hurts. Oh Celestia, it hurts! Tore something. Bleeding.
I feel the wiredoll slide slightly. Jerk back. Can’t keep its footing. Slick steps. I kick out with my hinds, not aiming for the guards, but the wall beside me. I catch it with the edge of a hoof. The wiredoll slips backwards, tumbling down the steps. I go flying out of its grasp, and my head hits the stone. Blood. Blood in my mouth. I’m rolling. Tumbling.
Green is there. She’s lying next to me. On her side. Her hair is turned to crystal, so she can’t rest evenly. She keeps bouncing back and forth faintly. Making a little chime every time she hits the ground.
I need to... I need to get up. I force myself to my hooves, but the world won’t stay still. It’s weaving, back and forth. I can’t... something rises in my throat. No. No. Gotta... do something. Wiredoll will be getting back up. I can’t win this. Think, Siren! Berry’s baton! The shock... thing! I can use that. I go as fast as I can. Back through the doors. I can’t run, my legs hurt too much. I think I broke something. But I can walk fast! I make it back in. Berry is there, pinned to the ground by the doll. But there’s only one doll left here! And there. On the floor. Her baton! I lean my head down.
The baton glows blue. Slides away. And my teeth snap around the empty air. One of the guards. “Give it back!” I say, turning to face him. “I’ll—”
Rarity.
Rarity is there. With the wiredolls, and Quick March, and the baton floating beside her, wrapped in an aura of blue.
“Why, yes, Siren. It’s good to see you again too,” she says with those sweet, cultured intonations. She casually hands the baton off to a guard, a pegasus who takes it in his teeth. “Oh, I know it’s terribly rude of me, but would you mind waiting just a moment? I really should see to these poor stallions bleeding sooner rather than later. Is that alright?” She pauses a moment, like I was going to answer. Then she smiles. “Excellent. Oh, and would somepony turn off that alarm, please?”
There’s nowhere to go. Quick March is there, along with the wiredoll that held me, and another half dozen guards. The exit is completely blocked. Green is under them, still frozen there with her eyes shut, and when I look at Berry, the second doll has her completely pinned from behind. I...
All I can do is watch as Rarity walks up to the two guards I stabbed. As the alarm fades, she approaches each one in turn and her horn shines, bright blue beams restoring shredded flesh and halting the bleeding. Six more guards come while she’s working, and she directs them to fetch a pair of stretchers. To take the wounded away.
There’s nothing I can do. The adrenaline is fading now. My shoulders are getting so heavy. My jaw feels puffy, and wrong, something cracks in my ears when I try to move it. There’s blood in my mouth. My foreleg is stiff. And it doesn’t hurt at all. That’s not good. Too stiff, no pain, something wrong. I wish my rear legs didn’t hurt. Didn’t... all I can do is tuck my tail in and try to grit my teeth through the pain. I squeeze my eyes shut, staring at the ground as the tears start to come.
It’s not fair. It’s not... I’m sorry, Green. I’m so sorry.
“I suppose this came very naturally to you, did it?” Rarity asks, in her song-song way. I crack my eyes open, and she’s looking at me. She’s taken a step closer while her guards keep a watchful eye. Surrounding me. “Emotional abuse, deception, theft, betrayal. Murder must have seemed the reasonable next step. I don’t suppose it ever occured to you that those stallions might have families? Ponies they go home to at night?”
I stare, and she tsks. “Evidently not,” she says, turning up her nose. “Well, no matter. The fire has gone out, Siren. I met you, loved you, gave you my heart, and when you broke it, I raged and I grieved. But now I’m done grieving, Siren. I’m over you.” She turns a critical eye on me, letting out a disdainful little sigh. “Perhaps it’s for the best things didn’t work out between us. I cannot believe I very nearly entrusted the Element of Generosity to... well. This.”
“You should... take me,” I say. The words come out a bit slurred. It hurts to say them. “For Green. Trade. I came here to save her. I’m more than she was. I’m-I’m better for—”
Rarity laughs. Titters. A light, high sound. I fall silent. “Oh, darling, don’t let me interrupt; I was just enjoying your daring little display there. I do so enjoy seeing my work in use.” She reaches out with her magic, brushing back the hairs on my cheek. Stroking my new cutie mark. I don’t pull away. I don’t move at all. “So tell me, how does it feel? Less forceful than you were expecting, I assume? Light. Like you don’t even know it’s there.”
“Yes,” I say after a moment. After I put it together. I should have realized. “I... I wasn’t sure if it was working.”
“Well, that was the idea,” she says, airily. “It was an early predecessor to Epiphany, actually. Not a serious attempt, you understand,” she clarifies quickly as she brushes back her mane. “I was just feeling around the concept a bit. I wanted something powerful! But not overwhelming. Subtle! But persistent. Simple on the face of it, but with a certain... je ne sais quoi.” She flicks a hoof into the air.
“The bottle says it’s for bravery but... it’s more than that. You see that now, of course.” She nods at me, a little nudge of a muzzle. “It takes more than bravery to break into my gallery and risk life and limb all for the sake of a mare you hardly know. It takes a...” She slowly draws a hoof down her chest, over the razor folds of her uniform. “Spark.” Her eyes flick back up to me. “Are you enjoying it, Siren? Can you feel it inside you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“That’s good, dear.” She smiles warmly, continuing in that same smooth, friendly tone. “But, in any case. You see why I found your comments amusing. I’ve already taken you. I own your soul, Siren, and everything in it that’s worthwhile is mine. You are a useless, disgusting, pathetic creature, and it is only through my wondrous generosity that you have—” she laughs “—any redeeming qualities.”
“Really, at this point, the only interesting thing about you is the curious matter of how you came to be here.” She looks left, and right, holding her glance on Berry for a moment. “I was informed by a very reliable source,” she says, walking towards Berry, “that you were dead. That one of our old friends in security rid us of you. And yet, here you are—uninvited in one of the most secure buildings in the city.”
“I do apologize, Ms. Rarity,” Quick March says, deferent, his head nodded down. “I was sure that—”
“Oh, think nothing of it, Quick March. These mistakes happen.” Rarity dismisses him, reaching a hoof down to stroke Berry’s cheek and tilt her face up. Berry is stony-faced as always, not showing the slightest reaction to Rarity or the wiredoll pinning her to the floor. “So tell me, Berry, precisely how was it that Trixie has learned to restore the dead? And of all the tombs in the city, why did Trixie choose mine as the place for Siren’s revivification?” Of course, Berry says nothing.
“Oh, really now, Berry?” Rarity sighs, giving a little shake of her head. “I let you go once. I’m not going to make that mistake again. You’re nothing if not a rational creature. Temperance may shield you from mundane interrogation, but you know I have the power to make you talk. Make it easier on yourself.” Berry only looks at her. “Nothing to say?”
Berry stares for a second, but then she nods. Rarity smiles. “Oh, wonderful. Out with it then.”
Berry tilts her ear down. “Cunt.”
Rarity goes stock still, frozen in place. Her guards likewise lock up. One of them drops his club, as all the rest stare open-mouthed. A little one, young, backs away up the staircase. Like he didn’t want to be caught in the radius of what’s about to happen.
Then Rarity laughs.
“Oh, Berry, you loveable scamp,” she says in fond tones as she pinches Berry’s cheeks with her magic. “Why, if a pony ever said that to me, I would skin them alive. But—” She tsks and smiles, shaking her head. “I don’t mind it so much when you do it. After all, you’re not really a pony, are you?”
Her horn shines, and the reflecting room floor—our ceiling—slides open like an iris, revealing the chamber above. Shattered glass falls down all around us, and I have to duck and cover my head, but Rarity pays no mind. The glass just never seems to touch her. She doesn’t even react when the shattered remains of the metal framework fall to the floor with a crash. She just smiles at Berry, tugging down the cables that once held the frame I dropped. Enveloped in her magic’s blue aura, the cables unravel themselves, splitting up into the individual threads.
The individual wires.
Berry doesn’t struggle when the wires lower towards her. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t make a face. She doesn’t scream when Rarity drives them down into her flesh, her bones, her joints, her spine, the back of her skull. She never makes a sound. I can hear bone cracking, but she never...
Then Rarity seals the incisions back up, grabs the bundle of wire with her magic, and tugs. The doll lets Berry go, so she can gently lift off the floor, suspended by her spine and at every joint.
“You know, I did it because I was mad, but now that I see it... I think I like it!” Rarity says, upbeat. “Look, Siren, I made a wiredoll. Get it?” she says, floating Berry up to me. Dangling her in front of me by the little steel wires.
Berry stares at me.
“Rarity, s-stop...” I plead as Berry advances on me, tugged along above the ground by the cables.
“Can she do tricks?” Quick March asks, grinning as he steps up next to Rarity’s side.
“Why, I don’t know! I’ve never done a puppet show before. Let’s see,” Rarity says, excited. “Berry, run!” She yanks the wires running to Berry’s knees, and she seems to trot in the air in front of me. “Berry... play the violin.” The wires on her rear legs go slack as the ones in her spine and forelegs build tension. She swings down, like she was standing on her hind legs, her forelegs pulling up to mimic violin motions in the air. Rarity’s grinning. “Oh, I think I’m rather good at this.”
“Rarity, please...” I whimper, looking up. Berry’s bleeding. The tension in the cables is too much for regular flesh and skin. The cuts Rarity healed are re-opening every time she moves. She’s bleeding from her back, her joints. I... I need to do something. “You know, Trixie loved puppet shows? Back in her traveling showmare days. I think she still does.”
Rarity frowns, and after a moment, lets out a snort. “Well, that certainly took the fun out of it.” The glow around the wires fades, and Berry drops to the ground like a sack of flour. She doesn’t move her legs to catch herself. She just falls and lies there, still and unmoving. She’s breathing but...
“Berry?” I say. “Berry. Get up.” I poke her in the shoulder. Nothing. Poke her in the eye. She doesn’t blink. “Berry get up.”
Berry doesn’t move.
“That’s odd. I was careful not to do too much damage to her neck.” Rarity purses her lips for a moment. “Well, no matter. I’ll put her back together again before we take her apart.”
“Indeed, Ms. Rarity.” Quick March nods his head in deference, almost a bow. “It might have to wait though. I hate to interrupt you when you’re having fun, but you have a five-thirty with Fluttershy, and it’s five now. We really should get going.”
“Oh, right.” Rarity glances up at the ceiling, lost in thought for a moment. “Oh well. I suppose I was about done anyway. Let’s wrap this up. Any suggestions for what we do with Siren?”
I look at them.
“I could take her off your hooves,” Quick March suggests, flexing his wings and sneering at me from across the room. “She betrayed your trust. She doesn’t deserve your attention.”
“All valid points,” Rarity agrees, though her tone is hesitant. “And I do love seeing you work. You may lack the artistic gift, but you’re a superb craftspony.” Her tone is fond, but again she hesitates, drawing her head head back and tilting it to the side. “But... mmm. I don’t know. Call it an echo of lost love, but I’m feeling like something more than just cutting her up.”
I look at them, and it suddenly occurs to me. This is it. This is where it ends. There’s no out for me.
“Not crystal?” he asks. Offended? Yes. Offended. He even turns to give her an incredulous glance.
She snorts. “Oh, heavens no,” she assures him quickly. “But maybe...” She extends an uncertain hoof my way. “Glass? It’s missing something.”
The guards don’t think I’m much of a threat. Quick March is relaxed. If I charge Rarity, right now, swing my knife, I might be able to stab her before anypony reacts. She’s only a few paces away.
“Glass and we pose her with Green,” he suggests. “So Green’s sacrifice really never meant anything. Give it a new context.”
“Oh, perfect!” Rarity claps. “Yes, I think that will do nicely. Any last words, Siren?”
This is it. One last chance to do one good thing. I nod, take a breath, lower my horn, and charge. “Aaaagh!” I scream and I break into a gallop, leaping through the air, straight for her. My knife leaves its sheath—
And then a blue beam lances out from Rarity’s horn, striking me and freezing me in the air in mid-pose. Holding me there, perfectly frozen mid-strike. “Oh please,” Rarity snorts. “Like you’re the first pony to try that.”
“No, no!” My hooves go numb. I can’t turn my head, but when I glance to my side, I can see my left forehoof has turned clear. The transformation is spreading down my limbs, towards my torso. I scream, summoning all the power I have left. My dinky little magic bolt spell couldn't kill a bunny, but I throw everything I have at her. I ignore the stabbing in my horn every time I cast it and try to hit her with something, anything!
But she swats every spell out of the air with ease—every bolt deflected, every thrown projectile caught. My knees and elbows are numb now, trending up towards my shoulder. Please, please no! Not like this.
I look at her. I look Rarity in the eye. My shoulders and hips are numb, traveling up my torso, towards my body, my neck. I look at her and I... I...
My horn feels like it’ll split open, but I summon one last bit of magic. It’s a simple spell, a gentle spell, and one that comes to me easily, even when I’m this weak. A sound spell, adjusting my voice. Making it lower, smoother. Another pony’s voice. My barrel is turning to glass, but I manage to take one last breath.
“Rarity, stop, you’re hurting me!” screams Sweetie Belle, wailing at the top of her lungs.
Instantly, the light around me winks out, and I tumble to the floor. It only takes me a fraction of a second to realize I didn’t shatter on impact. Feeling has come back to all my limbs. Rarity is staring at me, wide-eyed and shocked, stammering and incoherent. “I... but... no... I... I didn’t...”
The watch on my leg lets out a loud ding. The sound of clicking mechanisms. A high-pitched mare’s voice. “Hey! You know what this calls for?” I sweep up my knife, leap. “A party!”
I stab Rarity right in the eye, and bury the dagger up to the hilt.
She shrieks. She screams. A wonderful agonized sound. Then the floor lurches under us. The whole building shakes, a roar building up from the depths. I see her stumble, fall, still screaming, her legs flailing under her. I hear muffled booms, crashes above and below. Water spraying on my face. There’s another alarm going off. Not the intruder alarm—something deeper. Louder.
“Die!” I’m screaming. I don’t even mean to say it, it just comes out. And then I’m on top of her! Beating her. Showing her what a good set of hooves can do. Breaking every bone in her witch body! “Die! Die! Die!” I’m screaming and screaming and there’s water and the guards are yelling and—
The knife. What am I thinking? Using my hooves! The knife comes out, and a spray of blood comes with it. Oh that made her scream. It made her scream so high her voice cracked. It’s this awful wailing sound and damned if it isn’t beautiful music! Her neck this time. Yeah, her neck. I like that. I lift the knife.
Something hits me in the side! Slams into me and sends me off my hooves. A pony! I wrap my legs around him before I fall, and we go down together. Blue coat, wings, white uniform. Quick March! “You little stain!” I snarl, driving my rear leg up into his gut. That knocks the wind out of him! “Stay down! Stay down!” I finally shove him away, rolling back to my hooves. He’s doing the same! But I can take him, I can! I just need my knife.
I... I dropped it. I lost my grip in the tousle. But that’s fine. This is where he dies and he knows it! “Get Rarity out of here!” he shouts. At the guards. Right. There are other guards. I’m... I’m not letting them do that! I’m not letting her get away. I rush to Rarity, hurry to deliver the killing blow!
But my legs aren’t working for some reason. I’m stumbling. I can’t find my footing. Is the floor tilted? I look down to check where I’m walking.
One of Quick March’s feathers is sticking out of me. Right out of my ribcage. Over my heart. Feathers like knives. Long and blue. There’s a lot of red as well. On the feather. In my coat.
It hurts less than I thought it would.
“Go, go now!” Quick March is shouting, as two of the guards drag Rarity into a stretcher. A stretcher? No. No! I try again to take her. To rush! But my legs all tangle up and... I think I fall. I don’t remember it but I’m on the floor now. There’s a cold feeling spreading through me. Around the pain in my barrel. That would be all the blood running out of me, I guess. I’m pretty sure I’m in shock.
Quick March is there. He puts a hoof on my chest and raises a wing. Feathers out.
Purple legs wrap around his neck. Berry. She’s beside him, pulling him back. They’re fighting. I get it. She was just playing dead. That’s how she got away from Rarity the first time. That shelf falling on her didn’t knock her out at all. I... yeah. Fooled Rarity the same way twice.
That’s good.
I can hear things now. Splashing. A crackle of lightning. Guards screaming. A mechanical mare’s voice, yelling that there’s something wrong with her doll. Fire. A male voice. “Blast him!” A guard runs past me with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his eye. He’s screaming, galloping, running in random directions until he passes out of sight. The water is rising now. I feel it falling from the ceiling. Landing on my upper side.
I see Quick March again. He’s on the floor. Both of his wings are broken. Snapped cleanly at the base so they hang at an unnatural angle. His feathers are twisted all around, the knives bent and warped. Echo is dragging him with a rope. Around his neck.
“That’s your problem, Quick March! No respect for our traditions!” Echo roars. That’s a funny rope he has. I don’t know how he carries it. Or ties knots with his teeth. But suddenly it’s up there, wrapped around a ceiling beam, and Echo is flying beside it with Quick March in his hooves. “If it was up to you, we’d just stab everypony we execute. We’re going to kill them anyway. Why go through all the effort?”
My vision is starting to blur. “Echo...” I try to call out. We can’t waste... time with this. We have to save Green. We have to! “Berry... anypony.”
“We do it because there are rules, Quick March! Rules!” I hear him shout. His voice is slurred. Wandering. “Rules are what separate us from animals. Rules are how you kill another pony—how you take a thinking being’s life—without it being personal. There’s something very... good about a length of rope. Something civilized. Civilization is why I’m a professional and you’re a serial killer!” I hear a crack. A wispy sound. Coiling rope. “Do you understand that, Quick March? Is it sinking in? No? No, it’s not?”
Snap. “Oh well.”
It’s quiet then. No more shouting. The alarms have gone out. Even the lights are flickering. The water is at the edge of my mouth now. It’s all starting to go dark.
“Get Siren first.” Berry’s voice. I see Echo picking her up. She’s limp in his legs. Two of Quick March’s feathers are sticking out of her back, a third out of her leg. Did he stab her when they were fighting? Echo flies her up, through the open ceiling and out of sight. Then he’s back down, standing over me, picking me up.
“Green,” I whisper as he lifts me up. Something tears in my leg. My chest. There’s so much blood. “Get Green.”
He ignores me, his flapping wings lifting us up. The reflecting room is full of water. The doors to the hall are open, and a torrent is rushing in. Lights going out. The false bookshelf is pushed away, and water is rushing into the secret tunnel. Berry is there, sprawled out. The wires are still sticking out of her at odd angles. Echo must have cut them. Echo lays me down next to her. Then he leaves.
I don’t... I...
Something clinks. Something shines next to me. Glitters in the darkness. Green crystal. I hear the bookcase move again, the sounds of water becoming muted. The door hisses shut. I can’t summon a light spell, so we’re plunged into darkness.
But it’s okay. It’s okay. This is good.
I am good.
I reach out and hold Green’s head against me.
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I knew it! Siren is a SweetieBot!
Or... something similar but less fandom-referential, probably.
Absolutely fabulous chapter, darling. Da Magiks were so broughten. I'll be keeping a hopeful eye out for more Rarity in the future though.
Ra ra ra, turn 'em into glass!
Ra ra ra, Siren'll kick your - oh, sorry Hayseed.
Anyway, That. Was. Incredible!
Is this the first appearance of Supreme Overlord Alicorn Purplesmart's (SOAP) visage in the story?
@Bronetheus Siren learned how to mimic Sweetie's voice last chapter, remember?
The Pinkie watch was pretty bizarre, haha.
4396060
But where did she hear Sweetie's voice to begin with? I mean, yeah, there were the records, but that doesn't seem like a lot to go on, even if her talent is sound alteration.
4396081
She played records of Sweetie's music for Scootaloo, remember? And then Siren did an impression of her for Scoots!
That line. That freaking line. You know which one I'm talking about.
Still gets me every time.
…
Siren. Yes, I do think that you're successfully motivating him to kill Rarity.
Have you considered that you might also me motivating him to then immediately turn around and kill Rarity 2.0?
Huh, he didn't kill you after all. Yet, at least.
Still, this is going to send shockwaves through Vision. One of the Elements dead? The Pavilion attacked and badly damaged? Things are about to get… interesting. :D
It took a few rereads of the surrounding paragraphs to realize Siren wasn't making a Pinkie Pie voice. Then I realized we don't know what happened to Pinkie yet. I... hooo. You've done a good job at revealing just how terrible things are. I don't know if I'll be ready to know.
4397465
Pinkie's running Maintenance. I'm nearly to that bit in my reread of Siren Song. We've not actually seen the pink mare herself yet in Vision, though, IIRC...
Seems like Siren finds her revenge against Rarity a little more than just cathartic, but damn if it wasn't well deserved. Quick March too. Siren's tolerance for physical abuse is quite remarkable, though. At this stage, there's pretty much just decapitation or some other kind of limb loss left. Her pain tolerance is almost as impressive as Berry's. Damn.
I'm getting eerie flashbacks to Cohen's masterpiece.
Rarity's talk of revivification is rather puzzling, unless it was just her being... Rarity.
Also, I do hope that
isn't meant to be taken literally to mean that Green's head is the only part Echo was able to bring. I mean, I doubt it, but considering how things have gone so far...
Next update can't come fast enough.
For going in with no plan and little combat experience, that actually went quite well. Had she not her ace of vocal mimicry, this would've ended up so much worse. The stabbing itself was very messy, reminds me of Arya. But seriously, next time actually listen to your team. It was stupid thinking that you and Berry could carry out two full statues. Didn't even check for traps. Still trying to see the reason Echo doesn't just leave her to die, after all the bs she's put him through. Also, I think you needed Rarity alive to reverse the petrification, or someone powerful enough to undo the curse. Trixie wouldn't bother, sso the only one I can think off the top of my head with the capability is the princesses, who aren't there, and Twilight, who is MIA. Really glad to see that she didn't change her demeanor rapidly, what with the 'shut up's. At the same time I still hate her for that attitude. Someone needs to cut her a larger slice of humble pie.
4397813 We were also told Applejack provided food, and that Rarity has her own area. What we were shown, though...
So passes Rarity of House Fancy, First of Her Name.
4396852
Oh, yes. It will be even more interesting if they work out how Team Siren got in.
I hope we meet Fluttershy soon. I don't care how nice that recording was, she has to be crazy as hell, and I want to see it.
4399433
Yes. :D
4400554
I actually left a late comment on the previous chapter speculating a bit (just a bit, though; I've so little information to work with), spurred by finding this.
So much action. So much awesome.
But anyway, I'm thinking things are about to get interesting in Vision, what with the Pavilion being attacked and all.
So, for once I'm going to leave a useful comment. Or, at least one in which I do more than squeal like a fan girl.
I realized, while reading this most recent chapter, what I really love about your characterization. Even though the story is from Siren's perspective, and her observation skills are somewhat... well, let's be charitable and say 'selective,' you nevertheless do an incredible job of providing the reader insight into all of your characters.
Take, most recently, Echo. One of the last thing we hear him doing in this chapter is hanging Quick March, and although Siren (and therefore the reader) can only barely see what's going on, and is mostly privy to his actions in the sense that she can hear him speaking, we still get a vivid picture of what's about to happen. Echo's lecture to Quick March doesn't just paint us a picture of what's going on, it gives us an incredible insight into Echo's head, which is extraordinary considering how tight the perspective is on Siren.
Also, and this seems minor in comparison, but your knack for action scenes really shows through here. Clean descriptions that make it clear what's happening when you want it to be clear, and vague when you want it to be vague, such as when Siren gets her bell rung.
Can't wait to see what's next.
Wow this was a full chapter. I agree with pretty much everything 4408857 said. Very much enjoyed all the sneakiness and just how far Siren is still out of her element. Lots of horror with Rarity's comment that Siren's sold her soul. Very well done!
4400554 Rarity got stabbed in the eye but was being carted away. I doubt we'll be rid of her so easily. One does not simply kill an element of harmony.
4396060 I'm getting Fallout Equestria flashbacks with this chapter. First with Berry's defiant
and then the Pinkie Watches
. Lots of awesome moments in both these stories.
4400554 If she's /actually/ dead I'll be surprised. After all, magic is a hell of a drug.
4357627
You mean like Zephyr? Her first cutie mark was from mantles. But it's okay! She got her real one later.
It's a smiley face because she's happy.
You don't rule a city without a little fancy mathmatics! And a hat.
4364199
You'll find out soon. Very soon. Within a handful of chapters, even.
4395182
That pun was terrible and you're terrible.
Though I do love Sweetie Bot, I decided -- after some careful thought -- to abandon my plans for Siren to secretly be a robot ghost clone from the distant future. It would totally have messed up the entire story arc about her secretly being the love child of Twilight Sparkle and Princess Celestia.
4395293
In fact, it was.
4396081
4396196
It is intentionally vague. On the one hand, Siren did hear Sweetie Belle's voice in the record, and she knows her way around sound magic. On the other hand, she did then proceed to quote Sweetie Belle out of the blue. Three times. Correctly.
4396852
They will get interesting indeed. But the Genre Savvy is weak with you if you think that's the last we've seen of Rarity.
Remember the rule of fiction -- they ain't dead until you see the body!
4398576
Ponies to left of me, Jokers to the right, here I am. Stuck in the middle with you...
"I AM THE IRON PONY!"
Totally intentional.
4398984
Hey, she's leaning! Just not very quickly. Or with a good attitude.
A very good point about the petrification thing. I think you'll be surprised by the answer.
4400554
You'll see things you never thought you could see! Also ponies. Underwater! For some reason.
4401446
Yay, thank you!
4408090
She stayed home and ate the pancakes Apple Bloom left in the fridge. Then she went upstairs and played with her dolls. She had a good day.
I mean, you know. Compared to Siren's.
@The people pointing out that we haven't actually had if confirmed that Rarity's dead:
Oh. Oh my. You're right; she's badly injured, but it doesn't actually say that Siren killed her…
This is potentially even worse than a dead Rarity. Dead, she'll just have people eager to avenge her. Alive, she'll have people wanting to avenge her near-death, and she will be livid about the attack, the robbery, etc. About the only thing even worse than that would probably be if she was permanently disfigured to boot, but I expect that Vision's medical technology will prevent that.
4408857
No no, that's useful too. I harvest fangirl screams in jars to power my car.
Thank you! That actually makes me really, really happy to hear. I was very worried about that scene, because it was vital for both characters, but came at such a dense moment in the text. I went through a lot of variations, trying to scrunch Echo's part down into as few words as possible to keep the focus tight. It started as a full scene, and by the end of it, I'd dramatically shortened his dialogue and cut out all the descriptions.
Honestly, when I published, I still felt Echo's bit was too long, and worried that I could have conveyed the moment in fewer words. I'm glad to hear the intended effect shone through clearly.
So, confession time. I love first-person action scenes. In third person, I have to find a way to describe what every character on the battlefield is doing all the time, without dragging the scene out. First person gives me a wonderful excuse to lavish detail on the important parts, and then blindside the reader.
Ponies, CiG. It's always ponies.
And really, thank you! Comments like this make my day. It's wonderful to know that someone enjoys my writing, and more than that, that I'm actually improving as a writer. Knowing that those little dense moments worked out makes it all feel worthwhile.
4411074
I had dismissed that as a coincidence, Scoots did give her a prompt for Sweetie's lines. But to be fair Sweetie was SINGING, not talking. Did Siren hear Sweetie talk? People can sound a bit different. A certain cartoon TV show we all know and love even uses separate voice actors for singing voices.
You're suggesting it's something more (and Apple Bloom clearly believes so as well, though Siren doesn't seem to know what she is talking about)... interesting. Ideas are popping up in my head now.
Perhaps Siren is a brainwashed and surgically altered Sweetie Belle? I had suspected Siren finding her way to Vision was less of an action against Celestia's wishes than she believed (you know, thanks to Bioshock's original plot)... this would add a whole new dimension to that, not to mention paint Celestia in a rather uncomfortable light.
Other than that, possibilities include her knowing Sweetie Belle in the past before she left for Vision (IIRC her age makes that unlikely), and that information being purposefully suppressed, or her being briefed on targets (or simply VIPs) before being brainwashed to consciously forget it all (but not subconsciously) and sent on her mission.
And then of course there's always the original Bioshock's huge plot twist played a bit more straight to consider as a possibility, here. Trixie seems to fit the role of Atlas nicely, though she hasn't been pulling Siren's strings in a noticeable manner, at least lately, unlike the game where Atlas always tells you what you need to do next...
4409843
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. FoE was definitely an inspiration for Vision.
As for the soul bit, Rarity was just speaking metaphorically. Probably.
4411110
Just because we're in hell doesn't mean we can't crack a joke once in awhile, right Siren?
4411119
mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/img/mlfw8773-applebloom_justasplaned.gif
4411146
Ain't no such thing in Vision. Everypony's got a destiny to fulfill.
I giggle menacingly but confirm nothing!
Would you kindly anticipate the Act 3 reveal?
4411048
You deserve all of my puns and worse for doing that to Zephyr.
4411138
I pretty much write exclusively in third person (though I'm working on a new story that's first-person, present tense), so I understand this frustration. I will say that, depending on how tight your perspective is, you can write third-person that is so close to a single character that, in many senses, it's like writing in first person. The only difference is your narrator retains some independence from the protagonist, whereas in first-person perspective they are one and the same.
Anyway, back to Vision, I love how we get a slow trickle of information about the war. You've never given us a straight-up exposition scene, in which we learn the various characters' backstories and how Vision came to be. Instead we see the wreck that ponies like Rarity and Trixie and Berry Punch have become, and we see the shadows of the past in their actions, and we're left to wonder just what happened up there that led to everything going so, so wrong.
Can't wait to meet Rainbow Dash, too.
4411091
Kinda basing the ontological inertia of petrification from Fallout Equestria. There's a character in there that was petrified, but the one who caused it died, so a statue that character remained.
And of course Rarity is not dead yet. That would be too easy. An eyestab and some weak flailing ain't gonna do much. She'll probably be disfigured unless they've got the medical tech. Hmmm. Eyepatch Rarity.
4411063
I KNEW IT! This was a sequel to Regarding the Need this entire time. Now you can get more views by plugging Vision in the Twilestia is Bestia group.
Presumably this story doesn't take S4 finale into account, since this story was outlined well before then. Princesses Celestia and Twilight have been dating for a few years, but as shown in the S4 finale, Twi starts to develop feelings of inadequacy w.r.t. not having princess duties of her own. Celestia, not wanting to see her lover unhappy, allows her to control the sun, just one time. As we see in the S4 finale, not a trivial task! Twi accidentally scorches all of the crops in the process. Sure, Celestia covers for her and tries to hoofwave the whole incident, but Twilight knows that she's single-hoofedly responsible for the Blight, and the agony and suffering of the common pony really gets to her. She meets charismatic revolutionary Sine Rider whereupon she spots a golden opportunity: by taking the helm of this so-called secession and instead turning this new city Vision into a beacon of hope and energy—a kingdom of her own. If she pulled this off, she would seriously get so many snuggles. So she left their daughter in Celestia's care, and departed with her friends.
Of course, as we see, the city soon falls apart, literally and figuratively. The stress rapidly takes its toll, since Twilight has her characteristic obsession with being perfect in the eyes of her special somepony, and she's incapable of returning home with her failure of a kingdom, so she strives tirelessly to "fix" it. Eventually, she dies from stress and heartache. Her friends carry on her work, less so to impress her widow, and more because they're good friends and this was important to her.
The real tragedy of course, is that Celestia loved her just the way she was, flaws and all. But out of respect for Twilight, she lets her run off to do what she feels she needs to do. In order to save their daughter the same heartache, Celestia alters her memories to make her think she was an orphan (better to have gained a mother than to have lost a mother), and she raises her as best she sees fit. But like a single father who can't help but see his wife in the eyes of his young daughter, Celestia can't help but see Siren as Twilight v2 instead of Twilight Jr, thus the "faithful student" routine. Luna astutely points out that Siren cannot fix the Twilight-shaped hole in her life, and that the memory-altering spell is having strange negative effects on Siren's personality/psyche. Luna urges her to come clean, but before Celestia has a chance, Siren runs away in search of Twilight. "The pony who has a perfect life just needs one more thing—to convince [Mommy Twi] to come home so the [Mommy Tia] will smile again."
4414482
I'm really curious what you'll think of the next chapter then!
4414699
No no. Dramatic haircut covering one half of her face Rarity.
4414774
Pav.
What R you doing?
Pav.
Stahp.
4414774
You know, it's been said that because the sperm of older people is damaged and more error prone that the greatest threat to the genome is older sires breeding.
I can see it now, Siren bringing Statue Green back to Canterlot with her.
--
Uh oh.
--
If this branches after S3, does that mean Discord is going to make an appearance? I hope so, you wrote him very well in IFIWT.
--
I'm not sure if I said this before, but I'll say it anyway. I LOVE these details. Things like this really make the characters come alive. If I were to design a city after or during a heated war against a god-princess crafty enough to rule a thousand-year reich, there's no way in hell the means if free travel wouldn't be backdoored if it were at all possible. Kudos to Twilight for thinking things through. This not only reveals the tension that lingered after the war and just how well Vision was planned, but also just how badly the hidden tunnels were planned, the rushed conditions under which they were built, and the hackish way in which they were fortified (throw in some detectors and we're golden... right?). Plus, you know, Trixie's tentacles lacing through everything, reiterating just why it is that the Elements can't stand up to her.
4432991
Aaagh I didn't even think of that.
He will appear, but only in flashbacks to when Siren lived in Equestria. His absence in Vision will be explained, but he wants nothing to do with Siren's little home away from home.
You noticed.
AJ was against it, to be fair, but Rarity can be so insistent. Its the whining and the complaining and the fainting couch and next thing you know you're fanning her with a palm leaf and wondering when your noble canine race lost its dignity. Also being in the middle of a civil war does tend to shorten the civic planning schedule, and top-secret projects rarely have oversight.
Echo also thought it was stupid at the time, but kept his mouth shut because he's strongly in favor of people who aren't-him having easily infiltrated homes.
Pony getting more character development this book says whaaaat!
4433495
Well, duh. Why wouldn't Rarity want a secret tunnel?
In her bedroom.
Connected to AJ's bedroom.
Ok, caught up now. Well that was a first, you have a chapter name but the character doesn't show up. Unless of course it turns out Siren is just a clone of Sweetie Belle, which given the plot of Bioshock makes it seem possible. Although it would be a silly twist since there doesn't seem to be any point to it, like we haven't seen her re-spawn from a vita chamber or anything.
Anyway, I'm kind of disappointed in this chapter, mostly because you went the psycho killer route for Rarity. Before now we have only heard rumors and hearsay and know that she employs someone who is one. I was kind of hoping for better from her, or at least less boring. After she does the wire thing its pretty clear and takes away a lot of mystic out of her. I had a feeling Siren was going to encounter her and do something with her Sweetie voice, but again was disappointed to see it was just to use as a distraction.
The action scenes also annoyed me but I think that's more of a personal issue then them being bad. They were written to be frantic and not really make much sense, like they were happening in first person to someone who isn't a fighter or something.
Sooo... More pink pony horsewords this week?
4462166
Actually, I decided Vision was too dark, so I'm going to be rewriting it. It'll be the same for the most part, except that after this week, all the time Siren makes somepony cry will be replaced with kitten snuggling, and all the markers will just be ponies who got cavities because Poison Joke is full of sugar.
Update this Friday.
4462099
She really did! Crusading against a harmful substance that everypony else sees as just a part of life. It's hard when every pony around you thinks you're a kook. Of course, it helps that she has her proper cutie mark now. The three stars represent leadership—one star for each of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Which gets pretty dark when you think about it. Which she does. Often.
Spot on there chap. Spot on.
4462488
Glorious!
4444904
Haven't we? Haven't we?
No we haven't.
Indeed! I'm sorry they weren't to your tastes, but Siren gets panicky in combat! Daring Do helped her keep her composure, but it didn't turn her into little pony rambo.
And then the new sub fandom of Rambo ponies was born.
Wow! Its alive! I found a sequel!
4479625
No you didn't. It's a trap! This is really a story about tiny cartoon cats, which are nothing like horses.
4480389
But really its totally underrated. 169 likes? Need more. its better than FO:E. No Mary Cue and stupid shipping inc.
Sry for bad english. I m from Russia..
4480421
Oh, thank you! I'm flattered.