The Conversion Bureau: The First Choice

by Westphalian_Musketeer

Chapter Six

“DEETAIL ATTEN-HUT!”

Five soldiers and two gryphons stepped forward, eyes staring out to the distance.

“PREEESENT... ARMS!”

Enclosed in the hands and claws of the salute rifle party, replicas of Enfield rifles were aimed. Willard recognized the red gryphon as Isaac Wrenn, the first gryphon convert.

“FIRE!”

The crack of seven rifles discharging their rounds sounded across Arlington cemetery. Dozens of caskets were lined up. Among them was Private Andrew Wight, the dead from Carrenton, and several others who had died in the line of duty in the past weeks.

“FIRE!”

Another volley of shots pealed out to the ailing heavens above, and Willard winced at the loud noise assaulting his acute ears. The synchronized click of the rifles being chambered for one last shot registered with Willard just in time for him to adjust his ears away from the sound.

“FIRE!”

The final retort sounded off. A few seconds later five Scythe fighter jets flew overhead. When the ceremony concluded, the red gryphon took to the air without a moment’s notice; leaving a mottled grey gryphon there.

“Are you going to attend the reception?” Lieutenant Karan asked Willard.

“I told my niece I’d be back before evening, so no,” Willard answered.

Karan looked at the earth pony incredulously. “We both know that isn’t the only reason.”

“Alright damn it!” Willard expressed in a hissing whisper. “I was barely able to keep myself quiet for the ceremony. Shit, I remember when Wight and I would talk about some of the more interesting things we’d find in the archives during our off time. Now we’ll never get to talk about... anything.”

“Alright, the maglev train will be leaving for New York soon. You go on ahead,” Karan said. “I want to talk to that gryphon about conversion.”

“Now?” the newfoal questioned. “After he attends the ceremony where he is probably saying goodbye to someone he knew?”

“We don’t exactly have the time to wait. HLF and PER have both made major moves in the last few weeks.” Karan looked down at Willard. “Between augments, doppelgangers, diamond dogs, and potion rifles, we need to step up and use every resource at hand.”

“Very well, see you by this evening maybe?” Willard asked.

“Possibly.”

With that Karan walked towards the gryphon. It was black, with multiple patches of whites and greys on his feathers. He, assuming it was a he given his bulk, was examining the various tombstones. The lieutenant waited until the gryphon reached the end of the line of markers before coughing.

Without looking up the gryphon asked, “Can I help you?”

“Lieutenant Karan of the EarthGov military. I wanted to ask you something.”

The gryphon settled on his haunches in front of Karan and offered a talon. “Kephic, of the Gryphon Kingdoms. Though I suppose that’s rather obvious. What was it you wanted to ask?”

Karan took the claw in his hand and shook vigorously, maintaining eye contact with Kephic. “I was curious about gryphonization, and I wanted a gryphon’s thoughts on whether or not I’d make the cut.”

“I can’t give you a full interview right now, but if you want to see if you’d have a shot, I could ask you a question.” Kephic blinked and waited for a response.

“Just one question? Go ahead.”

“Multiple part question,” Kephic clarified. “First off, you have any family?” the gryphon asked.

“A brother living in San Diego, and my parents are in Equestria.” Karan shifted on his feet.

“Say your brother was HLF, came here and took that pony over there hostage.” Kephic gestured with a claw towards Willard in the distance, barely a dot for Karan, but the keen eyes of the gryphon allowing for every detail to be noted. “What would you do?”

“Try to talk him down of course,” Karan answered.

“And if you couldn’t?” The gryphon raised an eyebrow.

“Provided I had a gun, I’d have to shoot him.” The lieutenant waited expectantly as the gryphon reached a talon to his beak.

“You have a chance, you should ask for some more information at the Manhattan Bureau when you have the time.”

Karan nodded. “Good to know, thanks for taking the time.”

“No problem at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go find my friend. He’s taken the deaths of some of the fallen here particularly hard.” Kephic stood up and backpedaled before kicking off the ground and into the sky.

Miles was seated in his bed, rocking his head back and forth as he listened to some orchestral music playing on a DATab on his bed. A gentle smile was on his face as he sighed, “Ahh, going to miss this when I go to Equestria, maybe I’ll luck out and there’ll be a jazz club wherever I end up.”

The door slid open and in stepped a painted unicorn stallion. His coat was a splattered pattern of brown and beige and on his flank was... nothing.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Miles asked.

“Ah, greetings fellow enlightened convert! I was looking for a fellow by the name of Willard Radrim. Do you know him?” the stallion responded. He looked at the DATab laying on Miles’ bed and frowned. “Turn off that infernal noise! Such human drivel should not grace the ears of beings such as us.”

Miles hopped down from his bed and gave his response, “Human drivel? Who are you and what do you want with Willard?”

“I am Blank Slate, and I am here to teach Willard the truth of how evil man is, and the saving grace that is her majesty Celestia.” The painted unicorn smiled.

Miles face began twitching as the words registered with him. His eyes widened and then he scowled.

Willard was walking down the hall to his room when he saw Monica running towards him.

“Uncle help!” she cried out.

“What is it?” Willard asked.

“Miles is in a fight with another newfoal! I think it’s with Blank Slate! Something about HLF and PER!” The green pegasus began shuffling on her hooves. “Hurry!”

She turned around and began leading Willard down the hallway. Willard could begin to hear banging and thrashing from the direction they were heading.

“You are an abomination in her majesty’s eyes! An HLF converted? I shall rectify this grievous error, you shall be reborn in the light, by acceptance of this gift... or by death!”

Uncle and niece rounded the corner just in time to see a bed frame fly out the door of Willard’s room.

“So you’re not satisfied with just conversion then huh?” Another bang sounded from the room. “What next, our stories, everything that we’ve accomplished?! Everything we really are?”

“Go get security, I’ll try and stop this.” Willard said.

“Was Miles a--?” Monica began.

“Yes! Now go!” the earth pony commanded before he went into the room.

It was a scene of chaos; bed frames were bent out of shape and mattress filling was strewn about. On opposite sides of the the room, Miles and Blank Slate faced off against one another. The painted unicorn launched a chunk of mattress at the grey. Miles deflected it with a hoof and charged forward levelling his head, and horn, at Blank Slate. The PER operative lifted a broken bed post and struck Miles across the face, sending him tumbling to the middle of the room.

“BOTH OF YOU STOP THIS INSTANT!” Willard shouted.

Blank Slate looked at him; Miles stood up and did the same.

“Ah, come at last. I was attempting to convince this fool of the glory he would squander and taint,” the painted unicorn stated with a smile reaching across his muzzle.

“Don’t get in the way Willard. I’m going to make sure he never does to others what his kind has done to me!” Miles hissed through his teeth.

Miles ran towards Blank Slate and lifted a bedpost with his magic, flinging it at the rival unicorn. Blank Slate gripped it in his own magical field in the last instant and whipped it back, entangling Miles’ legs and tripping him to the ground. The painted unicorn stood over Miles and placed a hoof on his chest. Lowering his horn towards Miles.

“Now is the time for you to be wiped off the face of existence!” the PER operative yelled.

When Blank Slate’s horn began to glow, Willard charged, knocking aside debris on the ground. The blue earth pony struck the unicorn standing over Miles and the two tumbled into a wall. The two newfoals extricated themselves from each other and faced one another. Blank Slate’s horn began to glow and Willard hoofed at the ground. The navy new-foal was a few feet away from the fanatical pony, to charge would have still allowed for a spell to be cast.

“Stop this right now,” Willard stated flatly.

“I won’t stop on the word of one who would deny Her glory, Princess Celestia,” Blank Slate answered.

Willard tensed his muscles, and jumped forward. Startled, Blank Slate let loose his spell, it struck the earth-pony square in the chest, sending him to the opposite corner of the room where he slumped down in a heap. With a smile, the painted unicorn turned to Miles and lifted a piece of metal from a defunct bed frame.

“Now, if I could finish what I—” The statement remained unfinished as Willard bucked the unicorn across the room. When the unicorn slid down the wall, an impression could clearly be seen. Willard walked up to Blank Slate and prodded him. He was unconscious and breathing, barely, but the earth pony could see a small line of blood trailing from the unicorn’s mouth.

Willard immediately stepped back from what he had done. With the fight over, the ingrained haemophobia with Willard’s mind bid him to get away. Backstepping some more, the earth pony turned around and trotted out the door with Miles. When they stepped out, five Bureau personnel, including Karphal and a doctor were arriving.

“Where’s Blank Slate?” the doctor asked.

“In there.” Willard gestured with his hoof towards the room.

The four men and the gryphon entered. A few moments later Karphal stepped back out.

“What happened in there? Was that seriously what happened with a fight between three ponies?” The gryphon’s ears tilted back as he looked down on the newfoals.

Miles stepped forward. “He came into the room and started spouting off about how humans were corrupt and needed to be converted; I disagreed.”

“And how did that escalate to nearly punching a hole through the wall?” Karphal asked.

Willard looked at Karphal right in the eye. “Actually that would be my fault. When I got here the two were fighting. Blank Slate was winning, and I wasn’t going to let him do to Miles what I thought he was,” the earth pony said.

“I think you may have been justified in making that assessment,” Karphal said.

“Why is that?” Willard asked.

Karphal pointed at Willard’s flank; the navy pony craned his neck and looked at it. Where once it had been blank, a yellow shield, backed by two crossed torches now adorned his flank.

“Well I’ll be... So what happens now?” asked Willard when he turned back to Karphal.

“That is largely up to the instructors, they decide on disciplinary matters with newfoals. If they decide to punish you at all it would be isolation for the night. Though I say you shouldn’t have a single thing to worry about.” Karphal looked back as Blank Slate was carried out of the room.

Willard walked up to the doctor. “What’s the damage?” he asked.

Shaking his head the doctor replied, “A concussion and a collapsed lung, he’ll recover quickly enough. Would one of you care to explain what happened?”

Miles coughed and lowered his head. “We got into an argument, I found out he was... is PER, and then he found out that I am... was HLF. That’s when he launched a bed at me. From there it escalated. I was on the ground and he was standing over me, that’s when Willard bucked him off of me.”

The doctor’s head inclined slightly. He turned to Willard and asked “Did you put a full amount of force into that?”

Willard shook his head. “I needed to make sure I’d be able to hit him, that, and I just hoped to knock him out.”

“That explains why all his teeth are still in his head,” the doctor muttered. He turned to Karphal and requested, “Would you please take these two to Rough Sketch and Oscar Pascez’ office?”

“Yes.” The gryphon nodded and looked at Willard and Miles. “Come on.”

The three walked to the elevators, and descended to the instructor offices. Karphal knocked on the door to the office of Sketch and Oscar. Willard and Miles were shifting on their hooves as if they were trying to stand on nails.

“Whatever happens, I’m taking the fall,” Miles whispered.

“The hell you are! I’m the one that nearly sent that bastard through the wall. At least I’ll be happy with myself if I get sent into isolation.” Willard glared as hard as he could at Miles.

Karphal knocked at the door, louder this time.

“You really think that they’ll just put you in isolation? That seems a little light.” Before Willard could answer the question the office door opened.

Oscar was standing there. “Oh, hello... Karphal right?” The golden gryphon nodded. “Well, how can I help you?” the human instructor asked.

“I think they would prefer to explain the situation.” Karphal stepped to the side and indicated Miles and Willard.

The two ponies stepped to the office door and Oscar let them in. Karphal followed behind they headed down a small hallway to the dimly lit office near the back. Seated at a chair, Rough Sketch was working on a DATab.

“Oh hello you two!” she said cheerfully, before noticing their lowered gaze. “What happened?”

“I got into a—”

“No, I got into a fight with Blank Slate,” Willard interrupted.

“What?” Rough Sketch asked. “How? You two were assigned to different rooms now.”

“He came to the room while I was there,” Miles answered. “Words were exchanged, and well... you know what I was, and what he is.”

“HLF and PER ponies in the same room. I told you we should have kept them from general wandering,” Oscar said, crossing his arms.

“You have a point, but still,” the red mare replied, “where do you fit into all this Willard?”

“I stopped the fight by bucking Blank Slate across the room. I thought he was going to try and kill Miles.” Rough Sketch’s eyes darted around at Willard’s mention of the word ‘kill’. “A doctor said that he has a concussion and a collapsed lung, but said he’d pull through.”

The pink mare gathered herself before giving her own two bits. “I believe that the fault of the altercation overall is with Blank Slate, but I sincerely doubt he would have actually tried to... do that to Mr. Miles. He’ll be put into confinement and constant observation to make sure he doesn’t try to contact either of you again.” Miles and Willard’s ears were swiveled directly at the mare, listening intently. “As for both of you, I cannot in good conscience allow this to go without some assurance that you aren’t going to be a set of troubled citizens when you reach Equestria. Do you have any way of showing that you regret what has become of this?”

“A stallion who tried to hurt my friend, and is seeking to wipe humanity, in body and mind, from the world, is injured,” Willard replied, pushing a hoof over Miles’ mouth to keep him from interrupting. “I do not regret having done that in the slightest. What I do regret is the property damage, but in light of what happened, I really think that is irrelevant.”

Rough Sketch turned to Miles. “And your thoughts on this Mr. Miles?”

Willard retracted his hoof and Miles gave his answer. “The same.”

The blue earth pony winced; his friend was still going to be punished with that attitude.

The pink mare breathed in deeply and brought her hooves together, contemplating. She looked at Karphal and asked, “You were there to see the aftermath, what do you think?”

“I know that these two shouldn’t be punished for defending themselves from an aggressor, and if any of the higher-ups in ConSec insist that they be punished, I will personally inform them of ‘right to life’.” The gryphon flexed his shoulders.

Rough Sketch brought her hooves together again before looking at Willard and Miles. “Neither of you are going to contact Blank Slate, yes?” The two newfoals nodded and Sketch leaned back in her chair. “Then I see no reason why you can’t simply go to bed tonight and put this whole thing behind you.” She turned to Oscar Pascez and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Anything to add?”

The man covered his mouth to cough before giving his answer. “As long as Blank Slate and these two are kept separate from each other, and something like this doesn’t happen again, ever, ConSec should be reasonable.”

Giving a final nod, Sketch turned back to Karphal. “If you could find them a room that doesn’t need new beds?”

“Certainly.” Karphal nodded before leading the two newfoals to find a room for the night.

Author's Note:

Alright, fifth chapter is up, and I have a question for my readers. Would you prefer it if I indented the paragraphs? Or is the current formatting alright?

Comments

[Speven Dillberg]

The norm is to indent, but it doesn't make a difference if you do or not.

And I don't think I've actually seen that before, PER pony arguing with a forced HLF convert.

[clearshot01]

I'm good either way. You wanna indent it, indent it. If not, then don't. If you make a choice and people criticise it, then screw them.

[terrycloth]

I like an empty space between paragraphs better than indenting, and using both looks kind of silly. I don't care that much though.

[Pathfinder118]

Current formatting is fine! Plus your funeral scene gave me an idea for my story once it gets back from editing! Please contact me if you want, we could do some collaborations.