Smash the System
It had taken months of tremendous effort. The galaxy, united like never before against a common foe. A weapon, capable of destroying their foes, constructed through the collected industries of the spacefaring races. Old hatreds had been buried, foes had joined forces on the battlefield, and billions had bled and sacrificed. All… for this one moment. For this one, lonely human to walk down this final bridge… to what lay beyond.
Shepard limped and clutched at burned skin, aching all over. The fight to get to the Citadel and activate the Crucible had not been kind, rent and burnt armor that would have to be cut off a visible testament to the battle fought. And it had been just as hard once Shepard was on the Citadel; Anderson had helped deal the final blow to the brainwashed and insane Illusive Man, but had taken a bullet to the gut from Shepard’s own gun for the trouble. Another sacrifice made so that one human might get the chance to trigger their only hope at destroying the Reapers, the machine ships that threatened to enslave and destroy the galaxy.
Those who thought that simply triggering the Crucible would solve all their problems would be disappointed.
In the end, the Crucible was nothing but an energy source; the Citadel, the array to distribute the power across the relay network and to the rest of the galaxy. But the energy had yet to be unleashed; the Catalyst, the Artificial Intelligence at the heart of the Citadel that controlled the Reapers, would not allow it… yet. In the end, the fate of the galaxy was not so straightforward as one would want. Shepard, the first human SPECTRE, N7 Operative, the one who united the galaxy under a single banner, would choose the fate of all.
The holographic Catalyst, taking the form of a young human boy, offered three options. The first was Control. Disintegrate yourself, bind your consciousness inextricably to the machine computer, and hope that the Catalyst really wasn’t lying when it claimed that doing so would give one total control over the Reapers, saving the galaxy and gaining a huge technology for all races boost but losing one’s humanity in the process… if it even worked at all.
The second was Synthesis. Add Shepard’s unique cybernetic and human essence to the energy of the Crucible, dying in the process but causing the Citadel to merge synthetic and organic life seamlessly across the galaxy. People will be born, live, and die as synthetic/organics, their very cells containing both life and circuitry. A perfect symbiosis of machine and man down to the cellular level… if the Catalyst wasn’t lying.
And the final option: Destroy. The most straightforward option of all. Unleash the pent up energy of the Crucible in a massive EMP-esque pulse, frying the Reaper’s soulless ships… along with every other race's electronics as well. Every virtual intelligence, computer, terminal, and artificial intelligence in the galaxy would be wiped clean… including those artificial allies that Shepard had managed to recruit.
And so Shepard stood, half-dead, bleeding, wondering at what should be done… until something new entered the equation.
Shepard’s concussed eyes struggled to focus on the newcomer. What they saw, when they finally did, was not reassuring.
“Am I going crazy?”
“Ah, mon commandant, if only I were so lucky,” the mismatched serpentine creature lamented. “Alas, Princess Luna sends her regards, but as she and her sister are required back on Equus, and since the Reapers so rudely destroyed all our ships, I am the only help that could attend this lovely invasion you put together.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “You’re Equestrian?”
“Actually I’m what is known as a draconequus, a chimeric creature of magic. Specifically, chaos magic,” the creature lectured, producing a pamphlet out of thin air and handing it to Shepard. It took a moment to focus enough on the words to read them, but even then they seemed to slide off the page, literally.
“Anyways, Discord is the name, and I see you are in quite the pickle.” A pickle appeared out of nowhere. Discord examined it in minute detail before taking a bite out of it. “Ah, passion fruit gummy. Such a lovely little treat. Anyways, I’m here to-”
“You should not be here,” the Catalyst stated, the holographic form staring up at the much taller sinuous creature. “It is impossible. Only three humans made it to the Cit-”
The hologram didn’t get any further because Discord chose that moment to shove the bitten off end of the pickle into the hologram's mouth. Shepard stared for a second, attempting to process how a hologram could hold a pickle, then burst out into paroxysms of laughter- what little could be managed without searing pain.
“Good to see you can still laugh,” Discord smiled, showing a single snaggletooth fang. “Reminds me of a certain pink mare. But, to business.”
Discord politely waited for Shepard to recover, then steepled his bird-clawed hand with his lion paw, an expression of contemplation upon his long face.
“Fate, it seems, sees something in you. A touch of destiny. And while Fate and I do have our disagreements some of the time… well, most of the time... this is not one of them. It is not my place to decide the future of the known universe. It is yours. What I can offer is a choice. A fourth option. You see, I, like Luna, am a creature of great power, and with the Crucible in place I see a potential path for me to act. I can add my own personal twist of magic to it, and then release it through the Citadel and through the rest of the galaxy.”
His face became deadly serious.
“Chaos, Shepard. One does not truly appreciate how fundamental order and predictability are to the universe until it is gone. The Reapers, I assure you, will not know what hit them. And unlike the destructive option that the little computer-”
They both turned to look at the Catalyst, which was attempting to pull the pickle out of its mouth by now… only to fail as the holographic hands simply passed through it.
“-offers, this will ONLY kill the Reapers. Your artificial allies, and your organic allies, will all be unharmed. Relatively.” Discord smiled.
“Wh-what’s the catch?” Shepard ground out through the pain.
Discord’s smile grew wider… and sadder. “Smart, very smart. Yes, Commander, there is a catch. There will be some side effects. The heat death of this universe, for one, will be hastened slightly. By a few hundred million years. But then, on the scale of things, that won’t make much difference. No, the real problem will be that the amount of chaos I’m talking about unleashing will take time to dissipate once unleashed. It will remain, affecting the entirety of the galaxy, for years to come if I’m reading the power levels of the Crucible correctly.”
Discord stroked his little beard thoughtfully.
“I am able exert a degree of control over it, directing it to the extent that it will only harm the Reapers. All others will suffer non-lethal but still chaotic effects; no need to worry about dying, or causing innocent deaths, because of our actions here. But that does not mean that there will not be other consequences. The initial release of energy will no doubt cause spontaneous chaos, and the underlying fabric of this galaxy will become… less than predictable for a time. Based on what I’m seeing here… it will take at least three years for the initial burst to wear off enough to turn things back to normal and for the frequency of chaotic events to drop to a relatively low rate again.”
Discord sighed.
“The real question is not ‘will the Reapers die’, but rather, ‘will civilization survive the chaos that is unleashed as a result’. The galaxy is already on the edge of anarchy as it is, having unpredictability as the fundamental base of the universe for the next few years may well push things into a new dark age. It certainly did the last time I did something like this…”
The chimeric creature looked quite old and frail at the end of that statement. But after a moment of introspection, the age lines were wiped away as he came back to himself, straightened up and gave Shepard a quirked grin. He clapped his mismatched paws together.
“So, Shepard, Savior of the Galaxy. The fate of galactic civilization rests in your hands. What do you choose?”
Shepard held out a hand towards Discord and took a single step before nearly collapsing to the floor. But the hard floor never came; the mismatched arms of Discord prevented the rest of the fall.
“Can’t have the hero of the day faceplant now, can we?” he quipped sardonically. “And, I take it by your stagger towards me that I am your choice?”
“Do it,” Shepard breathed, straightening up but wavering visibly. “No one dies but the Reapers. Send them all to hell.”
Discord chuckled. “Aye aye, mon commandant. Your will is my command,” he said with a bow. “Now, in the meantime, you look terrible, Shepard. Luna would never forgive me if I let you die, so let’s get you to a hospital, shall we? Say ‘Hi’ to the Princesses for me, tell them I’ll be along shortly.”
The talons snapped once and Shepard disappeared in a flash of light, leaving only the Spirit of Chaos alone with the holographic Catalyst.
The cocky, confident grin on Discord’s face faded slowly as he stood, unmoving. Contemplating.
“You know, once upon a time I would have relished an opportunity such as this,” he mused. “An opportunity, no, a request to cause discord and disarray on a galactic scale.” He chuckled. “I would have had so much fun I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. Or even where to start. Do I go to the Quarian Migrant Fleet and put laughing gas in all their oxygen reserves? Or to the Volus homeworld and force them to roll around everywhere like rolly-pollys instead of walking? Or maybe to the Turian homeworld and turn all the words they say to each other into various birdsong instead of language?”
The chimeric creature shook his head. “How the times have changed.”
Discord clapped his mismatched paws together, a troublemaking grin spreading across his features. “But enough about me! Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
The lion paw shot out and grabbed the pickle from the Catalyst’s holographic mouth, before shoving it into Discord’s mouth where he promptly demolished it in a single bite.
“Delicious!” he said, licking his claws. “So, my little holographic friend, what do I do with you?”
“You cannot-”
Discord snapped his claws and the hologram went silent.
“Such a downer. ‘You cannot this’, or, ‘that isn’t possible’, or ‘I don’t have real underpants so you can’t set them on fire’.”
Flames sprung up from the holographic child’s pants. Just to prove a point.
“But, as a reformed villain myself, I rather feel like taking pity on you. So, I intend to take out two flying pigs with one cotton candy cloud by doing this!”
Discord snapped his claws.
The data feed for the Citadel cut off for the Catalyst. For a moment, it couldn’t understand- how, how could this creature so easily isolate it with merely a physical gesture and a sound- but in the next moment, a brand new feeling replaced the confusion. It was strange, like no sensory input it had ever felt before. Was this warm?
No.
No, this was hot.
Discord laughed hysterically as the young human boy formerly known as the Catalyst went through the most amazing series of facial expressions as he realized his underpants were on fire for the first time in his life. Then the most amazing series of geriatric dance moves/convulsions as the millennia old AI turned young boy attempted to use limbs that he had never used before to take off his flaming underpants. They weren’t actually burning him, of course, Fluttershy would never forgive him for intentionally harming a fellow creature to that degree, but the human instincts were all there and reacting to what they found to be a life-threatening situation with admirable speed.
“Well, that has him plenty occupied,” Discord finally recovered. He’d also spontaneously added a few enhancements that would keep those flaming underpants firmly on, delighting in the prank he so rarely got to play as most ponies didn’t wear pants.
“Now, let’s see…”
The massive beam of raw energy connecting the Crucible and the Citadel was quickly capped, literally, by a Discord clone in a hard hat. The energy already transferred and stored in the Citadel would be fine, but he could not let another drop out, not for what he planned.
“And now, for the fun part…”
Discord snapped his claws, and the world’s largest neon-green crazy straw appeared in his hands. He walked right up to the capped Crucible, now with a convenient port in it, put the crazy straw in, and drank.
On the bridge of the dreadnought Everest, Admiral Hackett carefully coordinated the battle. As the de-facto Admiral of Admirals commanding the overall fleet, Hackett had command of all races and all fleets in the alliance. All the allies that Shepard had managed to gather were here in this one final effort, this one last chance to defeat the Reapers.
There was no retreat, no going back. If they lost here, the galaxy would follow. So Hackett fought to give their forces, fought to give Shepard, time. The longer they held on, the more time they bought for someone to figure out how to activate the Crucible.
The cost was already enormous. The Eighth fleet was gone, destroyed nearly to the last man, the Third and Fifth down to fifty percent. Turian forces were down to sixty-five percent strength; the Asari, down to fifty percent. And none of their other allies were faring much better. So far, they had taken out only a few hundred of the Reaper destroyers and perhaps thirty of the more than one hundred Reaper dreadnoughts present. Less than thirty percent of the Reaper fleet deployed here had been destroyed, and more came through the relay every hour.
There was nothing else to it. All his cards were on the table. All Admiral Hackett could do now was to continue fighting, and hope.
“Admiral! Something’s happening to the Crucible!” One of the ensigns manning a console shouted.
Hackett was quick to get to the ensign’s station. They had managed to successfully keep the Reapers away from the Crucible, or more accurately, it appeared that Reapers were unwilling to attack it. It was fortunate, because the success of the entire operation hinged on its operation. If a stray shot had gotten through in the wrong place, and the Crucible was disabled, then all hope for this last stand would be lost.
“Report,” he ordered.
“Crucible power levels have decreased by ten percent in the last 30 seconds,” the ensign reported, hands flying over the interface. “Rate of drain is increasing and…. that can’t be right…”
“What is it, ensign?”
“Sir… the Crucible appears to be…imploding?”
Crumpling like a juice pack being drunk by a half-dehydrated soccer-playing eight year old at halftime, to be precise. The Crucible, largest construct built by mortals, dwarfing the combined tonnages of the Alliance fleets even before the Reaper War had cut that figure down, looked like it was being squeezed by the galaxy’s largest hand. Steel beams bent and ceramic armor crumpled like tissue paper, impossibly compressing before the unseen force. Any self-respecting engineer or scientist would have gone mad at the mere sight of such blatant disregard for the laws of physics and material properties.
Which was, of course, exactly what was happening. Chaos did not care for such quibbling little details like ‘the laws of physics’ or ‘what materials should not be able to do'. All it cared about was the fact that Discord was drinking energy out of it like it was a juice pack; therefore, it would react like a juice pack should.
Mostly.
It took more effort than Discord believed possible to finish drinking the dregs of energy out of the Crucible. Mainly because he was now high as a kite (not drunk as a skunk, as one would expect) and it took a looot of willpower to not turn that metaphor into a reality. His body now practically glowed plaid with energy, and his eyes were flashing through a multitude of colors so fast they looked like a rainbow.
“Whew… that’s some… some… some goooooooood stuff,” he giggled to himself. He staggered away from the Crucible energy port, the massive construct now fully drained and looking like a crumpled can.
Discord was no stranger to power, he himself normally contained enough to be considered on par with an alicorn, but the Crucible had been designed to provide enough energy to affect the entire galaxy; with both contained within Discord himself, chaos warped the fabric of the universe around him even without his intent. Banana birds sprang into existence around his head before swooping off to attempt to scavenge miniature sailboats from the Citadel deck. Metal flowers that bloomed in all colors, attracting miniature flying trains that would hover around and fill up from their gasoline-nectar. Discord found himself unwillingly staring at the beautiful bedlam around him.
A lion’s paw slap brought him back to reality, kind of. His eyes re-focused to find a duplicate of himself in a rather sharp-looking military uniform and a riding crop thumping against his raven’s claw arm.
“Does this look like a good time to slack off, recruit?!” General Discord demanded of Discord.
“W-”
“DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK?!” General Discord roared, riding crop connecting with Discord’s snout.
“These Ascended bastards think they can win, and without your help they damn well might, and we ain’t gonna let that happen. That means, recruit, you keep your eyes open, your ears up, and you quit wobbling around like a pony with jellylegs! You have a mission; buck up and get to it! NOW GET TO THAT ENERGY DISTRIBUTOR UP THERE BEFORE I HAVE TO KICK YOU THERE MYSELF!”
Discord saluted before nearly tripping over himself (literally, that mini Discord appeared out of nowhere he swore!) and ran towards the Citadel’s energy distributor that had, not too long ago, been receiving the Crucible’s energy.
He was three-quarters of the way there before he realized he was literally running vertically on literally nothing.
This aside amused him for a few seconds before he saw a mini-Discord in the swirling chaos, uniform pristine, thumping a riding crop meaningfully. Discord gulped, then strapped a passing pair of rockets to his feet and pointed himself towards the energy distributor.
He pancaked himself on to the energy port, literally. After a moment to gather his bearings, he stuck his lion’s thumb into his mouth and blew himself back to normal. With one last look at the glorious chaos (and the Catalyst, who was staring at him eerily, having finally figured out that his on-fire pants weren’t hurting him), Discord put his mouth to the energy port, and exhaled.
Yellow energy blasted its way down the circuits from the energy distributor to the massive capacitor banks throughout the Citadel. Soon, the capacitors were filled to the metaphorical brim; it was time.
The five arms of the Citadel began to open, wider, and wider, like the petals of a flower, until the entire station resembled a starfish. Yellow energy crackled and shone throughout the superstructure, building, until a yellow glow started just at the base of the Citadel Tower. It grew brighter, and brighter… then exploded outwards in a sphere of yellow energy.
The allied fleets began their retreat, as possible, as the energy grew to encompass the station, then the fleets, then the planet beneath it, gradually spreading through the system… and with it, Chaos came.
The plan had originally been for the allied fleets to disengage and jump out of the immediate area of the Crucible activation. Unfortunately, the confusion surrounding the sudden, inexplicable, and completely impossible implosion of the Crucible meant that the Citadel’s deployment actions went unnoticed until it was too late. By the time Hackett ordered the retreat of the allied fleets, the Citadel was already activated and the yellow wave of energy was upon them.
The Everest bucked slightly beneath Hackett’s feet as the wave of energy impacted, and for a moment, everything went plaid. Hackett tasted the color orange and could swear he felt-not heard, felt with his skin- the entire rendition of Hamlet as put on by the Elcor.
Then the moment was gone. And Hackett felt something that was decidedly not his hat on his head.
It bobbled as he tried to look at it, and he was quick to bring up his hands to steady it and take it off- to find that his cap had been replaced with a potted plant. Violets, if he was not mistaken. They smelled lovely and looked quite healthy, but Hackett had no idea how they had come to be on his head.
Still, now was not time to question why. There was still a battle raging. He looked towards the ensign at the sensor station, intending to get a status report- and froze.
At the sensor station was an anthropomorphic dog (of the Golden Retriever variety, his mind noted) wearing an Alliance uniform- both uniform and seat modified to fit the tail that now almost brushed Hackett’s legs. The dog-person was eying herself (given the shape of her bosom, definitely a her) open mouthed, clearly as surprised at her state as Hackett was.
“Ensign Golden?” Hackett asked cautiously.
The dog's mouth snapped shut and her eyes found his- panic was in those eyes, but discipline won out in the end.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Hackett held up the plant for a moment, inspecting it. It could not be a coincidence that this had happened in concert with the Citadel energy wave. What had happened to his hat (and he was now convinced it was his former hat) and to the ensign must be related. And if that was so, it would not have been limited to just him and the ensign….
A quick look around convinced Hackett his conclusions were correct. The bridge crew, and in fact the ship itself, were in varying states of chaos. Ensign Golden seemed to have been the most affected by the event, but she was not the only one- one crewman was now dressed like a rodeo clown, another had hair that had turned shockingly orange with a texture that looked like ice cream, a third had sprouted angel’s wings through his uniform…
“Ensign Golden,” Hackett said, turning back to the sensor station, “I need a status report on the fleet. We need to know if this is affecting everyone.”
“A- aye, sir,” she barked- literally, and seemed startled by it afterwards. Unfortunately, when she turned back to her console, the haptic interface didn’t respond. Instead, a squirrel carrying a number of nuts came out from it.
“What do you want,” it addressed them gruffly.
Hackett and Ensign Golden stared.
“C’mon I don’t have all day,” the squirrel said impatiently. “I can’t trust these goobers to not steal my nuts. Planetary analysis especially always wants info even when there’s more important things-”
“Ayy, muchacho!”
A shrimp, about the same size as the squirrel and dressed like a western gunslinger, crawled out of the console near the squirrel.
“Amigo, we got this sweet firing solution on a Reaper dreadnought, but we need final velocity and coordinate inputs! Can we get ‘em?” the shrimp asked the squirrel.
The squirrel thought a moment before tossing one of the nuts he had to the shrimp.
“Sweet amigo!” The shrimp grabbed the nut and disappeared back into the console.
“Targeting algorithms,” the squirrel muttered. “They can’t do a damn thing without triple checking everything and getting the latest data. Now, what do you want?”
“Status of the fleets,” Hackett was quick to say. He would head over to communications next for status reports from the various admirals, but if this was happening across the fleet as he suspected it was, he would need to give them a little time to get organized.
The squirrel grumbled, examining the nuts it had, before giving a curse and diving back into the console. It appeared again a moment later with a peanut, which it threw at Ensign Golden, who managed to catch it despite her surprise.
Both Hackett and Ensign Golden looked at it quizzically.
“Break it open,” the squirrel rolled his eyes.
The ensign looked at the peanut cautiously for a moment, before taking it in her new paws and breaking it in half. Nothing particularly special happened. Ensign Golden stared at it, confused, for a moment, before her new canine nose registered a strange scent.
“Ensign?” Hackett asked as Golden began to sniff the two halves of the peanut intensely.
She snapped back to attention. “Sir… I…. all Alliance ships still functional are accounted for,” she replied, her eyes unfocused. Her nose continued to work, the sensor information fully contained within the peanut's distinct scents and smells, somehow translating fully formed into her brain in a way that could be understood. “At least, I believe so. *sniff sniff* Multiple ships no longer match standard Alliance profiles, and several have changed ship transponder and identification signals, but they are all still considered ‘Alliance’ by the IFFs. *sniff* Additionally all ships of other races in range appear to be intact as well, though several also have changed ship size, configuration, and ship identification.”
“And the Reapers?” Hackett asked after a moment. If his fleet was unharmed (though it sounded like the same discharge had indeed changed them as well) from the energy release, then it would stand to reason that the same had happened to the Reapers.
The ensign sniffed the broken peanut, but was unsatisfied. Fortunately, the squirrel was quick to get out another nut and toss it to her, whereupon she broke it open and inhaled deeply.
Then looked at, then inhaled again. She finished, looking nearly as confused as before.
“Ah, sir…” she began.
Discord had collected quite a few titles over the centuries. He was the Master of Mayhem, King of Kaos, Despot of Disarray, the One Who is Confusion (dragon, that one), Confabulator of Calamity, and many more that had been lost to history or to madness (or both). He lived up to them all; there was no rule unbroken, no line not crossed, seemingly no limit to what he could do in that time when he ruled the known world. The Sun and Moon rose and set at random, large chunks of earth floated skyward on their own, clouds became cotton candy and rained chocolate milk, and as for those who lived in the madness that was Discord’s playground…. Well, if he did not experiment upon you and turn you into a pony/griffon hybrid for his own amusement then good luck trying to get home, the path had most likely changed since you had last walked it. Anarchy, on a scale so fundamental that most minds, mortal or immortal, could hardly understand it even as it erupted around them.
Discord was the Lord of Chaos, and madness was his greatest gift.
The yellow wave of energy, its matrix tainted by the power of Discord, swept over not just the Alliance and allied fleets, but over the Reaper fleet and the nearby planet as well.
The allied vessels hit by the energy wave were unharmed- though it would be far too much to say unchanged. And the effects were not merely restricted to the crews; ships were also changed by the chaotic wave, ranging from a Turian frigate that now fired heat-seeking exploding chocolate bunnies instead of normal railgun rounds to one particular Alliance cruiser which had literally turned into the USS Enterprise-D from the fictional series Star Trek (in miniature), complete with appropriate (impossible) functioning weaponry like phasers and photon torpedoes. But they were, across the board, unharmed, even if the crews were more than a bit confused as to why their ship’s lasers had been replaced by bottomless-magazine fully-automatic acid pie throwers.
The Reaper forces were not so lucky.
The most obvious effects were the immediate ones dictated by the initial wave of chaos. A Reaper dreadnought turned into a full-sized, 2 kilometer long plushie of itself. One Destroyer in the upper atmosphere was turned into a blue whale, whereupon it began a rather terminal fall towards the ground. Multiple Reapers exploded immediately after the wave passed by them, for various reasons; one had its eezo containment generators spontaneously become fish and immediately destabilize, another had the eezo replaced with an equivalent weight of pure nitroglycerin. For every Reaper that exploded, transfigured, or spontaneously shut down in the aftermath of the wave there was a different story, and for every Reaper that was critically affected there was another that was not immediately combat disabled- like the Reaper that found itself painted hot pink and suddenly could only think and speak with a valley-girl accent but was otherwise untouched.
But as the first wave of spontaneous chaos ran its course and the battle zone quieted to a confused standoff, a second wave of changes began to assert themselves. The Reapers were, after all, computers at the end of the day; and with magical chaos at the helm, even the smallest glitch could have tremendous effects.
One Reaper accidentally divided by zero and negative wedgied itself out of existence. Another came to the conclusion, somewhere deep in its calculations, that the binary result of 1+1= square and had all processes come to a crashing halt. A third concluded that the best plan of action to eliminate humanity as a threat was to get into a fistfight with the Moon, which it rather promptly lost when the Moon backhanded it into the Sun for match point.
As the wave spread, encompassing the entirety of the Sol system, every ship, every sentient, every animal, every plant was affected, twisted, warped, or touched by the expanding wave of yellow energy. For every allied creature, it brought with it strange, but manageable, problems. For the Reapers…
It brought the beginning of the end.
From his observation area on the Citadel, Discord looked on in satisfaction as the Reaper fleet began to crumble, literally in some cases. The Allied fleets began to reassert themselves as they adapted to their new state of being, those that could falling upon the disabled or otherwise occupied Reapers with a vengeance. Down on the planet below, he knew much the same was happening, the ground forces now able to fight on terms that were not merely even, but actually advantageous for the first time in the entire war.
“Beautiful,” Discord wiped a tear from his eye, watching a swarm of very angry armor-piercing stinger bearbees chase a Reaper across his field of view. “Just beautiful, don’t you think- oh.”
The reply he had been fishing for would never come because the former computer/child now had a candy-cane for a head. Still, that wasn’t any fun. Discord snapped his claws.
Where before there had been a young human child with a candy cane head, there was now a young pony foal, looking around quite lost as the Catalyst found itself in yet another different body.
Discord brought his lion’s paw to his beard, frown on his face.
“Hmmm…. Something seems missing….” he mused aloud as the Catalyst tried to find its bearings.
A lightbulb appeared over his head. Discord raised an eyebrow, then plucked it off his head and opened the little glass door on it to look inside.
“Aha! Brilliant!” he exclaimed, then snapped his claws.
A coal black little bunny with baleful yellow eyes appeared in his outstretched lion’s paw. It took a moment to gather its bearings, before lunging at Discord- who, fortunately, had enough experiences with Angel Bunny to know to take precautions as his bird claw hand captured the irate bunny.
Discord set the bunny on the foal’s back with a satisfied grin as the Catalyst proceeded to stare at the bunny while the bunny stared hatefully at Discord.
“Now now, none of that Harbinger,” Discord waggled a claw playfully. “I thought you could use a friend, Catalyst. Given that you won’t ever be going back to the way you were, I thought you might appreciate someone to commiserate with. Now, let’s see where we can put you…. Hmmm, I know an orphanage close enough to Canterlot I could keep an eye on you…”
Discord snapped his claws and the last three living creatures on the Citadel vanished in a flash of light.
But the Citadel was not done yet. The base of the Citadel Tower once again gathered energy, growing brighter and brighter until it was like a small sun, before releasing it in a single cylindrical burst. The energy laser traveled through space faster than light until it struck the Sol Relay at the edge of the system.
The relay element zero core turned from blue to yellow as the containment arms began to spin, faster, and faster. Just when it seemed as though the relay might be able to contain the energy, it blasted a stream of yellow, faster than the eye could see. Several thousand light years away, the next relay in line received the energy and in turn became yellow; much remained with the relay, but some could not be absorbed by the relay and instead expanded outwards in a sphere of chaotic energy.
Then this relay too blasted the energy onwards, towards its relay pairs, and the process began again.
And across the galaxy, Chaos reigned.