Neither Created Nor Destroyed
The second day after my one-woman attack on Manehattan's criminal element sees me sitting in the Pyre's lobby near the auditorium, receiving an update from the Police. There have already been a few passing ponies who have looked through the window trying to get a glimpse of me, which I dutifully ignore in favor of getting through what is now my morning routine.
Thus far, the mood at the department isn't very optimistic. "So you weren't able to get anything from them?" I ask of Coffee-and-Cream, referring to the two that remain at the jail after Glintlock's deportation.
-"Correct. The both of them haven't revealed anything worthwhile, at least nothing that isn't already public knowledge. No other information on who they are working with, who their superiors are if any... nothing we tried worked."-
"Do you want me to give the interrogations a shot?" Statuette was gracious in defeat, and I like to think that I've learned from my first attempt at 'questioning' a pony. It would turn out a lot smoother now than it did weeks ago.
Coffee doesn't approve. -"Don't bother, General. We've tried being nice, being nasty, being both, and everything in-between. They're being incredibly close-lipped: Trifecta is familiar with all of our tactics, and Statuette is as cool as a cucumber. We'll just have to work with what we have."-
"...A suggestion, Officer? Her profile mentioned that Statuette loves pear jam sandwiches, and she wasn't shy about eating one after our fight. Maybe try enticing her with one?"
-"We thought of that, but when we tried offering her one, she took one sniff and turned up her nose at it. Described it as 'low quality' and 'rotten'. Which I personally disagree with, but that ain't important."-
"Maybe it has something to do with the specific brand of jam she used. Give me a moment while I check something."
I take a minute to leave the Pyre and take my usual roundabout route up to Drama's apartment. The revamped stairs are just about finished, only awaiting somepony to put down some new carpeting over them. The project isn't done yet in spite of this: the staircase now juts into the main lobby a little, and that's going to require modifications to the walls and a new door to accommodate it properly. Mortar & Son had to recruit some extra help to get it done, which of course is going to add to the final bill. I'm feeling sorry for Gray and Ebony.
The jam jar I gave to Drama is in her icebox. She hasn't used any of it yet, stating her preference for raspberries and strawberries, but promised that she'll get to it eventually. Whenever that is. "Looking at that jar she gave me, there's a label on it that says 'Grand Pear, Vanhoover'."
-"Stands to reason that she would want some from her hometown,"- Coffee ponders. -"Nearly all of Manehattan's produce comes from farms on the mainland within ten to fifteen miles of the bridge. It's going to take time and money to place a special order for something that's clear on the other side of Equestria."-
How do ponies tend the land? That's another book I'll need to check out from the library sometime. "Just take it out of what the Department's going to end up paying me," I tell her, putting the jar away. "If it gets us our information, it will be worth it. And be sure to keep a closer eye on the jail to prevent any repeat escape attempts."
A few minutes later following a brief consultation with Chief Grove, they accept my idea. I let them know that I'll be by momentarily to pick up Maverick and Magnum for my next patrol before breaking the connection.
Which reminds me: the trial for the Midnight Castle thieves, sans the two escapees, begins tomorrow. I can't believe that the court here is anything like Neo Arcadia's, so I wonder how things are going to be handled. The request I received to have me present as a witness also informed me that they want me at the courthouse three hours early, presumably for the preparation involved. Tomorrow is shaping up to be a busy day.
I linger in the building long enough to notify Drama that I'm leaving on patrol. After giving my greetings to Mortar, Pestle and their hired help as they arrive with some fresh supplies, I vault across the street onto the rooftops to begin my run.
...Still feels strange that this is my new 'normal'.
...
Caramel Mocha and Hazelnut Mocha
Mocha Beverage Corporation Headquarters
Dr. Comprehension, the specialist I told you about, has arrived. Please visit me immediately.
Dr. Goodhealth
...
First Quarter couldn't hide her surprise as she put the telegram down, massaging her forehead. "That was fast."
"That's what I told the guard at the front desk." Caramel was no less surprised than she was. "From what he said, there was a mail carrier from that little town near Canterlot who was delivering a light package to Manehattan. She overheard somepony at the post office talk about how important Dr. Goodhealth's letter was, and she volunteered to deliver it personally since she was heading back in that direction anyhow."
Quarter whistled. "Impressive stamina. That's not a short flight." I wonder if that pony can be recruited. I can think of some situations where that level of endurance would come in handy. "He didn't happen to get a description of that carrier, did he?"
Caramel checked a mirror, making sure her mane was in her preferred style. "Gray coat, blonde, bubbles for a Cutie Mark, and very wall-eyed. Never got a name."
Wall-eyed? ... Blast it, she probably has strabismus. Quarter's face contorted, which her headache made easier to excuse. Maybe I'll just leave her be. If she's dealing with any sort of issues from that, my plans would probably just end up piling on the stress. "Can we remember that? If this turns out to be as bad as we feared, we could thank her for her haste."
"If we ever see her personally, sure." Satisfied with her appearance, Caramel turned to Quarter. "If you're here, Hazel, I'm assuming that means you're finished with breakfast?"
"Done and done."
"Then we might as well go ahead and face the music," Caramel uttered with a sigh. She trotted towards the door with Quarter close behind, calling for the servant that worked the morning shift. "Flower Night? We're going to Dr. Goodhealth's office. We don't know how long this will take, so just lock the door on your way out!"
"Take care, young ladies."
Our first stop this morning is actually Manehattan General Hospital, where all those who had been injured by Glintlock have been taken to. Two of the victims are recovering reasonably well to the point where they are ready to leave the hospital (though not to the point where they're ready to go back to work), and we are asked to see them off.
They give us some odd looks at first, having heard of me but never having seen me. Their suspicions of Maverick and Magnum don't ease up, though they agree to direct their questions regarding their presence to Chief Grove. Aside from that, we experience no real problems before they leave us via a taxi.
While we are out walking the streets, my escorts take the time to point out several attractions. The skyscraper with the horse head fixture up top is the Crystaller building, home of Equestria's largest manufacturer of carriages and stagecoaches. I suppose if you want to be blatant about who you are, this is one way to do it.
After a short break to catch a saddlebag snatcher, both pegasi take me up to a rooftop so I can get a better look at something I'd seen in passing but hadn't focused on. Known locally as just the 'Mare Statue', it sits off on a much smaller island to the side of the city and serves as the first thing ponies see when they go across the bridge. From what I understand, the statue was a gift from some foreigners who had taken a shine to Equestria.
There's a tingle in my memories, like I should recognize it from somewhere. After a few moments, I realize that I do: the shattered, deteriorated remains of a statue lying on the ocean floor, another casualty of my homeworld's countless wars. The species is different, but as I look at this, I have a better idea of how the intact version must have looked.
I keep my opinions to myself as the duo leads me on. There's no need for me to bother them with any parallels; hidden depths or not, they don't strike me as very deep thinkers.
An apparent whiff of something sweet distracts them for a moment. Magnum points out another office tower a block away from the Crystaller Building, smaller in size but no less attraction-getting: the headquarters of the Chocolate Mocha Beverage Corporation, supposedly the oldest-lasting business in the country. Maverick adds that it's been in the owner's family for 900 years, and that while there's a board of directors that help run the company, those in said family are the ones that oversee it all.
I think they were the ones that tried to get me to work for them my first week here. I still have no regrets rejecting them.
That sweet scent the thieves are picking up is from the coffee and dessert shop that's open on the ground floor, they tell me; I can see customers entering and leaving the building from here. They express visible disappointment when I tell them that they can't take a short break---they're here to work off their time, after all---but I put a pin on this location for later. Maybe I can treat them or something after their trial is over, assuming they receive a lenient sentence.
Before we leave this street behind, I ask the prisoners if that was the only eatery they have. They tell me 'no', that every town or city in Equestria above a certain population threshold has at least one Mocha Tavern somewhere, including Canterlot. In addition, the company provides nearly half of Equestria's chocolate chips and powder mix at last count. I figured as much, since it didn't seem right to me for a business this big to be thriving on the output of a lone shop.
I drop back down to the sidewalk to control patrolling. Those around us flinch at my landing, but they don't cause me any trouble. The ponies I make eye contact with smile and/or wave in acknowledgement. Those I ignore do the same to me in return.
I'm beginning to see what that one pony at the Lonely Heart nightclub meant when he said that "us Manehattanites are a tougher bunch compared to most". Having their approval wasn't my end goal, but it's nice to have it all the same---
-Beep Beep Beep-
Wait...
-Beep Beep Beep-
My scanners are registering something. I pause in the middle of the sidewalk and step to the side, letting the pedestrians behind me move on past.
"Boss?" Magnum inquires, noticing my alertness. "What's up?"
"Might be trouble, might not be," I answer curtly. "Hold up for a moment."
I activate the Subsurface Radar. With this many ponies wandering about, I can't determine where my systems are pointing me from normal observation alone. Where are you?
-Beep-
Not over there. That's a hardware store offering fifty percent off if the customers can prove that they got my autograph. I make a note to stay out of the public eye after the remaining suspects are apprehended.
-Beep-
Nope. That's an ice cream parlor having a special on blueberry-and-vanilla cones.
-Beep beep beep beep beep-
"Found you," I breathe, simultaneously taken back and eager.
I'm taken back because walking towards a doctor's office at the other end of the block are two brown teenage pegasi, one in an orange-and-white dress and the other in a royal blue suit. It's astonishing, just astonishing what they must be capable of at this age: my scanners have the dress-wearing pony down as a Class-A threat, never mind the fact that she's an obvious civilian.
Before I continue, let me elaborate on my internal ranking system so that you have a better idea as to what I'm referring to. It's been long enough since I first brought it up that I owe you all an explanation.
Threats are automatically categorized by my scanners with one of five different ranks. Those that are Class-Ds tend to be civilians without any real training or abilities of note, such as my Neo Arcadian ex-friend or Ebony Evening.
Class-Cs are those with a modicum of combat training and/or skill, but not enough to pose a threat to me. These would include the average Resistance soldier or, for a local example, Turkey Bowl. His earth pony strength coupled with his unerring accuracy could cause me harm, but he's no fighter.
A Class-B warrior would be someone who has earned the ability to give me a decent battle, but barring extenuating circumstances wouldn't be enough to surpass me. Any of the Four Guardians' lieutenants would fall under this classification, as would Trifecta and his lot. Statuette not so much, though Harpuia and Phantom might disagree.
Class-A fighters are my equals in combat. The other Guardians, plus Gray at her peak, and most likely Shining Armor and Cadance would be placed here. Doubtless there are others out there, but those are just the ones I've met.
Finally, the few occupants of Class-S are those that are (or were) capable of thoroughly trouncing me if they feel like it. Before today, out of all those that are currently alive, only Zero and Princess Celestia were occupants of this stratum. During their lifetimes X, his copy, and Omega also landed here.
And that leads me to why I'm eager: my HUD has "Class-S" stamped all over the teenager in the suit.
I refuse to believe that my systems are somehow deceiving me on this. If that were the case, many others on the streets would be worthy of that same ranking. But no: most everypony else aside from these two are Class-Ds, with the odd Class-C here and there. With is it with them in particular that sets them apart from the crowd?
Wait... they've both stopped in their tracks---
The two of them were just about to enter Dr. Goodhealth's office when they froze, a peculiar sensation rippling across their withers and the backs of their necks. "Danger," Caramel hissed to Quarter. "That feeling's as aberrant as Grandfather said it was."
'That feeling' was an integral part of the combat style Quarter had long since perfected: if you couldn't detect danger, your chances of reacting to it in time took a sharp drop, and she had discovered the means of doing so ages ago. "I can tell," Quarter murmured back, trying to focus past her headache. "I'm getting one signal at about our 4:30. Is that right?"
"Yes," her 'sister' confirmed. "It feels sort of... empty. Odd. Like it isn't alive."
Not liking the sound of that, Quarter turned in the indicated direction, trying to do so in a casual manner---
---and past the typical traffic of a summer day in the city, she saw her.
Exhaustion.
A dazed sort of confusion.
A nearly total lack of awareness.
This was Hazelnut's life right now.
Her perspective had become very muddied in the day and a half since her world had been upturned. As time passed, she found herself losing her strength as her body seemingly became heavier. Her ability to fight back was non-existent, for having it meant that she was ever able to fight to start with. It was all she could do to focus on what her sister and that traitor to the family were doing, and even that was nearing its end.
She couldn't even find any sort of happiness in her health issue being taken seriously.
In the mindscape that she had become a part of, she had collapsed onto the ground as she began losing her sense of self. I... who am I? Feels fam...iliar. I am... chocolate? ...No... 'I'? Who is 'I'? This... this Hazel?
Carrie... car...who is... my sis...ter...?
Don't... dunno. So... so exhau...
So... tir...
...ed...
...
In another world, this would have been seen as the moment that Hazelnut vanished from the world. She would join the countless others of her line who had died so that Quarter could live. She would fade away like so much dust on the wind, leaving nothing for anypony to mourn for.
A flash of dark red and the shattered snarl of a monster dictated otherwise.
The suited adolescent locks eyes with me. For a moment, her eyes widen and dilate like those of a person filled with terror. I remember seeing those sorts of eyes on numerous false Mavericks shortly before I ended their lives...
The moment passes, and the terror is gone. In its place was the same sort of vitriol and fury that Gray had once turned against me: narrowed eyes, snarling teeth, the works. The main difference here is that I don't think this pony has pointed teeth, but that's a small comfort.
And the secondary difference here is that it's the first time I've had this much hatred directed at me personally, both here and back home. The feeling's almost tangible, heavy---
A pair of hooves are at my back, steadying me. Did I just take a step back and not realize it? "Easy there, boss," Magnum says right in my ear. "Don't want you tripping over us. See something strange?"
Several other ponies around me are wondering the same thing, but my focus isn't on them. The angry child's counterpart---probably a sister, if I had to guess---looks between the two of us with confusion before saying something to her companion. For just a moment, I detect a hint of something flickering around Small, Chocolate and Angry before she gets control of herself.
What was that?
The vitriol gets dialed down a notch but doesn't go away, instead shifting into a glare that burns straight to my core. She mouths one word at me, lost beneath the surrounding conversations and bustle, then turns and trots into the doctor's office after her sibling. Reading her lips is easy enough, but what I get out of it raises more questions than answers.
"Later."
My systems register a pressure against my right arm: my left hand is gripping it tightly. I don't think anypony can hear it, but my voice just picked up a tremor. "Who... was that?" And why am I feeling this nervous?
It's a nearby pedestrian walking a dog who answers me instead of the prisoners. I don't think he was paying much attention to the situation. "Caramel an' Hazelnut Mocha. They're part of the family who runs that chocolate coffee place a ways back," he says helpfully, nodding back in the direction we'd departed from before continuing on his walk.
"I want to say that the angry one was Hazelnut," Maverick continues where he left off. "I always get the two of them mixed up."
Magnum side-eyes me. "What did you do to make her so peeved at you?"
A number of ponies around us gasp for reasons I'm not clear on. I ignore them in favor of answering the question. "Nothing that I know of. Not unless she's mad at me for rejecting an offer to indulge in corporate shilling."
"You never know around here," Maverick remarks. "It's like some ponies say: business is serious business."
Maybe, but it still feels very silly. I give the doctor's office another look, then decide that this avenue isn't worth pursuing. "If it's worth pondering, then I'll do it later. I had to run into somepony who hated me eventually." I turn away and wall-jump my way up the nearest building. "Come on, you two. Back on the clock."
...Though as they resume following me, I'm still thinking about it. Somepony with that level of power and that much hate towards me not planning on fighting me at some point... I'll just dispense with the similes: that's not going to happen. Someday, she will bring the full extent of whatever unknown strengths she possesses to bear.
And that scares me in a way that Zero and Omega never did.
Quarter stood back, letting Caramel do most of the talking to the doctors. It was somewhat embarrassing to nearly lose control of herself outside, but thankfully Caramel assumed that her brief mood swing was a result of the pain that she'd been experiencing for days.
What she would never tell anypony was that this was not an isolated incident. Some part of her had always been angry this way.
It was downplayed when she first heard of Leviathan while she was inhabiting Cocoa's decaying shell. His mental faculties weren't what they were used to, and he could scarcely comprehend the newspaper when it was brought in to him on account of his failing eyesight. He had enough cognizance to recognize that he needed to call his elites to Manehattan and keep Starlight Glimmer from leaving too soon, and that was it. More focus was given to neutralizing Gray Ghost instead of the robot as a result.
Now that she was in a body whose mind was sharp (though not photographic), she could remember all of the pertinent details of her long life. Some good, some neutral... and some very, very terrible.
An explosion of light and power that shook the world. An armored unicorn gathering his squad to investigate.
A nightmare of burned, half-melted metal and flickering electricity stood at the center of a crater. Heavy damage across its entire front, as if struck by a mighty blow. It snarled and screamed in pain and rage. A blade of raw magic was held at the end of one limb.
The unicorn recognizing an enemy when he saw one, unknown entity or not, and ordering his squad to engage...
...and the ground, soaked crimson less than half a minute later.
The monster---for there could be no doubt that it was one---charging at the unicorn to end his (current) life, laughing and declaring the words that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come.
The horrified unicorn, out of desperation, firing off a half-remembered spell that struck the monster squarely. It wrapped the beast in magic that completely and utterly disintegrated it in mid-laugh, reducing it to a pile of dust as the spell recognized the monster as something not truly alive.
The weapon it had once held dropping to the ground a mere meter away from where he stood, its blade vanishing on impact.
The lunar alicorn arriving on the scene too late, discovering only the site of a terrible battle and a weeping soldier who had lost all of those under his command far, far too soon.
One thing that all eyewitnesses of Leviathan agreed on was something that was the most basic: her coloration. The uniform and armor she wore was white, gold, and assorted shades of blue, with just a bit of red in the helmet... but Quarter couldn't see it. No matter how many times she heard otherwise, or saw any photographs of her, or even now after meeting her for the first time, she just couldn't see it.
So ingrained was that memory that all she could see when she beheld the lost Reploid was a maniacal mass of charcoal and maroon.
It didn't matter if her motives were good, or that she wasn't the same engine of destruction that had ended Quarter's old squad. For the sake of putting that trauma and hatred to rest, Fairy Leviathan needed to be destroyed.
...
...
And it was that same horror, dread and anger that came with seeing Quarter's greatest fear returned to life that rekindled Hazelnut's dying flame. New life and energy was breathed into her as she realized what had nearly happened to her, her drive and focus reawakening and her eyes opening wide.
She zeroed in on that mental image of the monster's final charge, trying to burn that picture into her own memory and make it stand out from all of those she had forcefully experienced. She forced herself to absorb every little detail, from the corona of electricity flickering across its chest to the unkempt and scorched hair that trailed from its broken helmet.
It wouldn't be a pleasant experience, but if dwelling on them was the only hope she had for keeping her head above water...
I can work with this. I can work with this! A squeak of fear. I hope!
Freedom had always been, and always would be, one of the things she valued most.
Celestia had expected there to be only a hoofful of volunteers in light of her request's nature, and she was correct. Only four ponies out of all her school's living graduates were sitting in the throne room before the dais.
Three of them were kneeling in reverence, and she opted to nip that in the bud before it started getting uncomfortable. "Rise, my little ponies. It is a pleasure to see you all here today after so long."
The fourth remained upright the entire time, if only because of her advanced age and the cane she was leaning on. "Sorry I can't return the favor, Cel-Cel," she groused. "Your mane's why I know which direction to talk to."
The others shifted at how candid she was being, to which Celestia just smiled. She still remembered the absolute stunner of a unicorn that attended the school more than sixty years ago, as well as her no-nonsense and stubborn attitude. It used to be that the guards needed to confiscate all of the flower bouquets that would-be suitors would bring her. Time itself is the cruelest beast of all. "I am pleasantly surprised you in particular accepted the invitation, Startide. I would have understood if you had stayed home. I know that it couldn't have been easy for you to travel here."
Startide's clouded eyes regarded nothing. "Ah, well..."
"Grandma wanted to help that living machine return home," said a fifth pony who was assisting her. "So we packed up and went. Simple as that, your highness."
Startide lightly cuffed her caretaker with her free hoof, to which he smiled unashamedly. "Smart-alek runt, puttin' words in my mouth..."
Celestia (and at least one of the guards) suppressed a snort. "In any case, I'm glad you made it. Captain, is everything ready?"
Shining Armor saluted her from the main entrance. "The carriages are parked, your chariot is ready, and a section of the library has been set aside for us. We are set to go, Princess."
"Excellent." Celestia stepped down off the dais. "To the library with us, my little ponies. We have work to do, so let's not burn any more daylight."
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ohhh. Soo bad guy had the misfortune of getting a trauma of meeting Omega in one of his many past 'lives'?
and this just happened to be done 1000 years ago.
11583036
in his original life if I'm reading correctly. it's part of why he started all this.
11583101
One of their earliest lives, to be more accurate. An excerpt from the last chapter regarding Quarter's Cutie Mark and her body switching:
To clarify, Quarter's time as a soldier seen in this chapter wasn't his first body. I tried to leave enough of an implication that their birth form was that of one of the other two tribes.
Threat identified!
I imagine Hazle's plan is to use Quarters FEAR to make his mental hold waver bit by bit until shes able to regain enough control to reveal whats been done?
And he flew like a cannonball!
YES!