What's a Reploid to do in a world not her own, and with a technology base to match?
People will do anything to distract themselves from their problems. In an age where the situation could be both a hundred times worse and a thousand times better, there are still stories floating around. You know the type: a young human gets snatched from his/her homeworld and dropped in a land far from home, and they have to either shape up or ship out before it's too late.
Replace "human" with "Reploid", and you have a good idea what's happened to me. This land of Equestria is as completely alien to me as I am to its residents. If I can't return home then I'll have to figure out how to adapt to its environs, but my time and options are running out quickly. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm getting desperate.
I am Fairy Leviathan, one of Neo Arcadia's Four Guardians, and I will gladly accept your help if you have any to offer.
There is a Frequently Asked Questions blog on this story. Please read it first before getting into the story. Thank you.
The cover image is Leviathan's official art from Rockman X DiVE. I haven't been able to find a reasonable alternative and circumstances aren't allowing me to commission something, so I'm just going to leave it as is.
Don't know about the 'Human' tag for this one, as it's kind of iffy. Personally I think it's alright, as Reploids are close enough to 'human' for it not to matter, but your mileage may vary.
It hasn't been my day. Or week, or month. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that it hasn't been my year, either, but for now I'll settle with the former.
My vision is completely white. No readouts or the like. Just a very stark brightness that at the same time wasn't bright. When it first began I'd been subjected to a blazing incineration, but that had lasted less than a second. Now I can't move or feel much or anything, though obviously I can think. I wouldn't be dictating this in my mind otherwise.
A little over a year ago, I was one of the Guardians of Master X. We protected humanity from those of our kind who would do them harm, and "retired" those who would object to our master's will. There were four of us: Hidden Phantom, espionage specialist and serious ninja; Sage Harpuia, the aerial commander and pretty boy; Fighting Fefnir, the land-based commander and fighting nerd...
And I, Fairy Leviathan, the naval commander and... someone who's not that different from Fefnir, if I'm being honest.
Then things went south quickly. A Resistance cell under the command of that teenage genius Ciel succeeded in waking up the legendary Zero. From there it was just one thing after another: multiple operations against the Resistance failing, us Guardians getting defeated one after another, Zero's assault on Master X's headquarters that ended in both Phantom and X's deaths, later getting brainwashed into fighting Zero when I should have been chasing the one responsible, me and Fefnir getting embarrassed in a short brawl against Omega and left to go without maintenance, Dr. Weil using a fake X to take command of Neo Arcadia and play us all for fools...
It's enough to make a reploid want to retire, and I don't mean that in the darker sense of the word.
There... I'm finally getting diagnostics in my vision. Everything's trying to reboot itself at once, though a handful of my systems are clearly in the red and are refusing to start up. I'll have to be mindful of those once I get going again, but I don't think it'll be too debilitating.
The last thing I remember was charging in alongside Fefnir and Harpuia to yank Zero away from Omega's final explosion. It was a stupid and moronic move, and I realize that now: wherever it was that the Resistance found him, everything that he's been through since his emergence shows that he's a survivor. If none of that could keep him down permanently, being in close proximity to a Reploid's dying blast wouldn't do the job either.
A fall from orbit... maybe. That's up in the air, and there's no way of knowing whether that will do the trick until it actually happens.
I didn't stop to think about what I was doing. I know that sometimes I chastise the others for doing the same thing, and it irks me a little knowing that I indulged in that same idiocy. Maybe it had something to do with the final order we were given to stop Omega, I don't know. ...Or maybe I just wanted to do something right for once?
I've been musing on Neo Arcadia's battles against the Resistance. We were justified in defending the populace from their attacks, since lives were always going to be in jeopardy... but after seeing Master X, the real X, speak to us and tell us to help Zero destroy Omega, I came to realize that we weren't entirely blameless either. We should have known better than to believe the words of a copy over the original. What exactly had we been doing these past years, persecuting our fellow Reploids on the possibility of being Mavericks without solving the root problem of the energy crisis? No wonder those in the Resistance rebelled.
Though credit where credit was due: whoever it was that created him did a spectacular job. The copy looked and sounded exactly like X did before his disappearance, even if he lacked some of his capabilities. Ciel's work, maybe? It wouldn't surprise me if it were. And if the report I read about her so-called 'Ciel System' is true...?
None of that's helping me right now, though. The light's finally faded, and I'm flat on my back staring up at a clear blue sky. That by itself concerns me, since I'm sure there was a ramshackle roof over our heads. I'm not detecting Fefnir or Harpuia anywhere. For that matter, based on what I can tell from my current position there isn't any wreckage to be seen. We were clearly in a set of old ruins, so how did I get out here? Just how far was I launched, and why am I not in pieces from the impact?
The last of my systems have finished rebooting, allowing me to finally sit up. Looks like I'm on a rooftop somewhere with all of my battle damage, which is a bit worrying. Now that Dr. Weil's in control of Neo Arcadia, being in the middle of the city isn't a good idea. Finding cover and getting out of here before his forces find me is a prudent move. After that, I can find out where the other Guardians disappeared to, hopefully get repaired, and help plan what comes next.
Would the Resistance even be willing to take us in, or would we have to form our own faction...? Part of me wishes it was the latter; while it was nice to team up with Zero, the thought of playing with him again still makes me eager for a rematch, miserable win-loss record notwithstanding.
On the plus side I still have the Frost Javelin with me, so at least I'm armed. I can fight barehanded if I absolutely had to, but I feel much better with a weapon by my side. And just my hands and feet won't be enough against armies of Pantheons and any other forces that Dr. Weil wants to create.
I look around a bit to get my bearings---
---...
"What," I utter softly, the first word I'd spoken aloud since I woke up.
Straight across a street from me on a five-story building is a large billboard. What it's advertising isn't important to me right now, but who's working with it is.
Ponies. Honest-to-goodness small horses. Not Reploids or mechaniloids built to resemble them, but flesh-and-blood beings. You would be hard-pressed to find survivors in today's world, if any still existed at all: the Maverick and Elf Wars did a serious number on the planet as a whole, hence why Neo Arcadia's the last bastion of humanity. I'm looking at two of them just putting up a new advertisement like it was completely normal, their motions thoroughly natural as if they'd done this a million times.
Their color schemes are completely off. One's coat, mane and tail are in multiple shades of orange, and the other is decked out in green and yellow. I... I don't even know how to describe this! This doesn't make sense at all!
I know logic when I see it. I'm a Reploid, a machine; our 'brains', if you want to call them that, were designed in such a way that we have the ability to think exactly like humans do. Thing is, I have to keep forcing overrides upon my internal processes just so I can look at this. Because to reiterate: multi-colored ponies putting up an advertisement. There's nothing 'logical' about this.
They haven't seen me yet, and I think I shall keep it that way for now. I scramble over to what is most likely an air conditioning unit (odd design, though) and dive behind it. I take a quick look to see if the two of them spotted me before ducking back. Alright, Leviathan. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Maybe I somehow got concussed when I landed? Or... I've heard humans talk before about family members having 'dying dreams', where their brains get entirely screwy shortly before they pass on. Maybe Omega's explosion really did grievously injure me, and I'm just being overly delusional before my power source dies? Because unless you're telling me that the entire population of Neo Arcadia got swapped for equines all at once...
Wait a moment.
Chiding myself for not being more attentive, I look down at the rooftop and give it a quick scan. My readings show that this roof is a mix of both steel and completely natural wood with gravel on top, and I don't need Harpuia's sensor suite to tell me that it's a serious red flag. Where does one find wood that isn't artificial in this day and age? For that matter, why would anyone in Neo Arcadia live in a building that incorporates wood into its construction when metal provides significantly more security?
Another red flag: I just noticed the manufacturer's name stamped on the air conditioner. "Meringue" isn't the name of a corporation I'm familiar with, and the speed lined lemon pie-slice logo provides additional proof. I'm an ice wielder who loves to swim in what little spare time I have, so I made it a point to familiarize myself with every manufacturer of cooling systems in the city, be they civilian or military. I like to think I would have noticed a new company being formed by now.
Between those and the apparently sapient equines, it's clear that I'm far from Neo Arcadia. And if this is still Earth that I'm on, I'll eat the fins off my helmet.
I turn over to rest the back of my head against the air conditioner, palming my temple. Injured, far from home, thoroughly unfamiliar territory, and its a tossup as to whether I can get repaired or not with what will probably end up being lackluster tech. And that's without getting into the fact that they're not likely to have E-crystals here, which means I'm on borrowed time anyway...
Master X help me, I've fallen victim to one of the oldest cliches in fiction.
I'm happy to be a Reploid, so it's not often that I envy humans. I have nothing against them specifically and I'm meant to protect them anyway, but there's no changing the fact that those of us built for combat are superior to them in almost every way that counts.
Note that I said 'almost'. I'd love to be able to eat and drink the same things they do. It's my understanding that tea's supposed to be good for the nerves. Anything to be able to keep my non-existent heart from racing!
I stayed hidden behind the air conditioner and tried to organize my priorities while doing my best to stay calm. Alright, I told myself. First, get down from here without being spotted. Second, find a decent shelter, preferably one that isn't already occupied. Third, try to find sustenance that's compatible with my systems. Fourth, either find someone capable of doing repairs on me, or--failing that--find tools that can help me do the job myself. Preferably the former: I don't think I could fix any damage on my back solo.
Fifth and most importantly, determine the full extent of this society's tech base and see if they can return me to Neo Arcadia. I got here through some scientific means, and those means are going to bring me back.
I'm not foolish enough to believe that my home is truly a paradise, not with the situations we've been facing and the conditions our society lives in. The thing is, I'm worried. I might hide it behind a veil of self-confidence and combat drive, but I fear for the citizens of Neo Arcadia. There is a tyrant in charge of the city now, and he's not going to care who lives and dies. Assuming Harpuia and Fefnir survived and are still active, they're going to need help to keep the citizens safe.
I've said before that I didn't care if the world burned as long as I got to keep fighting Zero. Knowing what I do now of the outside influence I was under back then, it was a mistake for me to say that. Make no question about it, those battles bring me life... but is life really worth living if those who were counting on you went to their deaths believing you betrayed them? I'm a Guardian, not just of Master X but of Neo Arcadia, of the people within. Zero might be the one tasked with fighting Dr. Weil at every turn, but can someone of even his awesome combat ability hold the line? Maybe, maybe not, but either way he's still going to need help.
I have to go back. Even if no means of returning to Neo Arcadia exists here, I will not permit myself to give up until every possibility is exhausted. I owe everyone--my closest compatriots, Phantom, Master X, the citizens who are just trying to live, even Zero and that ragtag Resistance--that much at least.
I still want to fight Zero again, there's no question of that... but I like to think I have a better grasp of my priorities now. Heh... amazing what crosses one's mind in the middle of what's potentially enemy territory, isn't it?
Having calmed down with that bit of rumination out of the way, I decide to see if there is in fact a way down from here. A look across the street shows me that the two advertising ponies have finished their work while I was occupied and are making their way down via a ladder, talking to each other about something I can't quite hear... there will be more on that later, for sure. The right side is a no-go, as it confirms for me that the building I'm on top of is located at an intersection, and both that and the back of the property are visible from the road. I don't need to see anything to know that there are plenty of pedestrians going about their business down there, as the noise of a day in the life is unmistakable.
Left it is. After making sure my Frost Javelin is secure, I stalk towards the other side of the building, keeping low to the roof so as not to attract attention from the ground. Reaching a gap between buildings with no hiding places or discernible ways down, I make a short jump across and continue on...
---!
And realize a second too late that there's someone up here with me. I freeze up entirely (heh), hoping against hope that whoever it was doesn't scream and attract attention my way; I'd rather not use force to silence them if I don't have to. I know enough that I'd be seen as an alien myself, so those things are bound to happen sooner or later.
...
Twenty seconds of relative quiet succeed in surprising me further. There's no noise that would call attention to me. My eyes flick about before settling on the figure nestled in a corner of the roof, hidden away from prying eyes. It was another pony, obviously, with a light gray coloration and a black mane and tail. That at least is pretty close to what I imagine a horse would look like... but there are two things that are visually throwing me off. Three, if you count the fact that it's curled up like someone's housepet.
The first is a marking of some kind at the top of its hind leg. I debate with myself whether to check it out or not, and eventually I compromise by taking a single step closer and no more. Far as I can tell, the marking seems to resemble a pair of green-yellow cat's eyes. It almost looks like a tattoo, but it is incredibly detailed to the point that I almost feel like the eyes are staring out at the world. I don't know if it really is a tattoo or if it's their idea of branding, but whoever created it was an artist. I can recognize that much.
The second's making me take that one step backwards as my eyes widen: the pony has wings. Wings!
I'm not entirely a stranger to the concept of pegasi. There's a weather control station back in Neo Arcadia, and the Reploid in charge of the facility was built to resemble said creature... "Pegasolta Eclair", I believe his name is. The thing is, there's nothing to indicate that the concept was more than just that, a concept. A myth. Thoroughly non-existent.
And yet there's no denying what I'm seeing. Once more, I have to force several overrides on my internal processes to keep myself from freaking out at the sight of a genuine pegasus just snoozing in the corner without a care in the world. I can even hear the quiet neighing sounds it makes when it snores, which in most circumstances would probably sound adorable.
These are not most circumstances, and I'm already very nervous as it is. I move as quietly as I can across the rooftop to avoid waking her up, and look down across the edge. I smile, relieved at what I see: there's a fire escape on the side of the building that leads down into an alley. Said alley contains a chain-link fence that divides it in half, a sizable dumpster, and enough containers and debris to potentially conceal me from view. Today must not be trash day, I joke silently. I won't complain. One step at a time.
Examining my escape route, I note with some dismay the doors on each landing. Far as I can tell several of them are open, most likely to let the air circulate. There are no cooling units connected to this building, so I have to assume that if this is a residence, it's low-rent. Of course, that's also assuming that economics and housing work the same way here that they do in Neo Arcadia, but that's not important. What is important is that if the doors are ajar to keep the building cool, there's likely someone keeping watch. If there's any sort of crime in the district, they would be stupid not to.
Maybe I should just jump straight down to the ground? ... No, better not risk it. Even damaged I can manage a fall from this height easily, but the landing would still attract more attention than I'd need. I'm certain I can hear someone shouting inside the building, though it's not directed at me just yet.
And it just occurred to me that if there's one pegasus, there's doubtless going to be more. I'm surprised that there isn't more of them in the skies right now. Why not?
No point in wondering these things right now. Instead of climbing onto the fire escape, I sit on the edge close by and slide down next to it, pushing myself against the bricks. Makes less noise, and I'm not dropping quite so quickly.
Or at least, that was the plan. As I reach the fourth floor, a housefly meanders out of the building and decides to make my acquaintance by landing right on my eye. Not a deterrent, but still an inconvenience. Grabbing a railing to steady myself and stop my descent, I raise my other hand to shoo it away.
"DIE, FLY!"
Wait, that wasn't me shouting---!
KER-SMACK!
Another plan without a flawless execution. A green-outlined jumbo-sized flyswatter swung out the door and hit me squarely on the eye, obviously aiming for the bug sitting there. Turned out to be of no avail, since it flew free just before impact and buzzed on its merry way.
Well. Points for enthusiasm, I guess, I think, giving the pony who had appeared in the door a look of bemused wonder that hides my anxiety. So much for staying hidden.
Well, not quite a mission. More like a “quest”. A quest to exterminate any intruders that dared enter her personal fortress, to teach them the error of their ways before she removed them from this world. None would slow her down, let alone stop her, and she would emerge victorious.
Yes, the mare known as Ebony Evening—or just “Eebon” to her friends—was a legend in her own mind. Dealing with the full force of adolescent invulnerability will do that to a pony.
With a coat of darkness beyond blackest pitch and deeper than the darkest night, paired up with a long gray mane and tail that waved about in the slightest breeze, she was certainly attractive from the perspective of other ponies. Several of those that her mother was acquainted with in the entertainment and modeling industries had suggested that she start learning the tools of either trade. It would certainly help with the finances were she successful, and after a few years it would get her family out of the cheap apartment they lived in.
But of course. Her Cutie Mark of a crossed flyswatter and can of bug spray certainly showed that she was cut out for modeling. What could possibly go wrong?
No. She had no interest in such things, as they were best left to those who knew what they were doing and had the necessary talent for them. She had a much loftier goal.
“One, two, three, four, shut your mouth and close the door. Five, six, seven, eight, set the traps and place the bait...”
On this fine summer afternoon, Ebony was parading up and down the hallway outside her family's apartment. Softly chanting something she'd made up to keep herself marching, she kept her eyes constantly on the move for intruders. Nothing that entered the building would cause trouble for her mother.
Wherever she was. Why did she never want to sleep in her own room? Sure, it got too warm during the summer, but that was hardly a point against it, was it? Even during the spring and fall, when temperatures were much more reasonable, she refused to take her naps in the apartment. It just seemed strange to her.
And it was a mite embarrassing, too. Whenever ponies found her sleeping in places she had no place being, they kept calling her a hobo. They knew she had a roof over her head to return to at night, and Ebony knew that her parents earned enough bits to get by, so why---
A very slight motion interrupted her musings, and her eyes narrowed. The flyswatter on the homemade bandoleer she wore was immediately engulfed in a corona of green magic, and in a blur of motion it slammed against the wall next to her. “HYAA! I gotcha!” she crowed triumphantly, basking in the continued success of her mission.
...Or not, as the fly she was aiming for buzzed in a few haphazard circles before drifting unhurriedly towards the open door that led outside. Gritting her teeth, Ebony chased after it. The flyswatter shook a bit in her magical grip as she ran. “Oh no, you are not getting away from me! I see you over there! Get back here!”
Not understanding Equish and lacking the ability to care, the fly didn't listen. Upon exiting the hall, it made a sharp left and disappeared from view. Ebony's ears twitched as she registered the lack of buzzing, which told her that the bug had made a landing somewhere.
An eager grin. Perfecto! As she reached the door, she swung the flyswatter with all the magical force she could muster at where she'd estimated the bug had landed. "DIE, FLY!"
The flyswatter made contact with something, but the continued buzzing was proof enough that she had missed. Grumbling, she idly leaned out the door to see what she'd hit...
...
...!
!!!!
The thing was plastered to the outside of the building. One appendage had a death grip on the fire escape to keep itself from falling, another was held up as if it were about to swing at something, and its latter two were bent and pressing against the wall. Ebony didn't see any of the blue, white and gold clothing it wore, or its body and face having two different colors entirely, the damage the thing was covered with, or even the fin-like objects on the back of its head. And not for a moment did she wonder how it got there to begin with. She saw what she perceived as off-white skin, empty eyes, its mouth permanently set somewhere between arrogance and curiosity... and it was staring straight at her.
Ebony's eyes dilated, her breath hitching at the sight. Her heart raced as she struggled to get any words out, any at all. “M—M—M--...MANNEQUIN!” she finally shrieked. Magically hurling her flyswatter and bandoleer at the thing's face, she turned tail and galloped for the safety of her home down the hall. No no no no no no no NO NO NO NO NO!
I look down to see the objects the pony had chucked at me bounce off the railing before dropping four stories to the ground. Huh. I've been called a doll before, but I have a hunch that this wasn't flattery.
I don't think getting struck in the face with those things would have inconvenienced an average human, never mind a metal-bodied machine like myself, but I don't think she--sounded like a 'she' to me, anyway--thought it through. I had a feeling my appearance would have unnerved the populace, but this was a few steps beyond what I'd anticipated. This had the markings of a phobia.
I don't have any deep-seated fears myself, though I've known a few who had. The late elephant-esque Maha Ganeshariff of my own Deep Sea Squadron, for example, was suriphobic—that is, he was afraid of mice and mechaniloids modeled after them. It was bad enough that I started having a qualified therapist brought in to see him whenever he was off duty. Of course, he never got over his fear before his division by Zero, but the point is that this isn't the first time I've seen something like this in others.
I shake off any thoughts of my past subordinates as I risk a quick peek into the hall, just in time to see one of the doors slam shut. Logic and common sense would say not to get involved in this, since I don't know what her deal is and I could very well end up making it worse. At the same time, this misconception needs to be cleared up: I am not a mannequin. Just because I don't have a beating heart or working lungs, I don't need to blink, my pupils and irises are the same color, and I have this suit beneath my armor that makes me look like a mannequin, and... and...
"Eh-heh..." On second thought, maybe that little pony's fear is justified?
Yeah, I'm not getting involved... but it's not going to stop me from playing “nice gal” for once, though. Where's those things she threw at me? … There they are. It's just the work of a few moments to retrieve them from where they've fallen. It'll save her a trip, I think.
It's certainly a surprise knowing just complacent folks can be. The average passerby doesn't seem to be any more inclined to look down alleys here than they did back home. I've been keeping one eye on my surroundings the entire time, and whether it's one of the building's residents or the pedestrians strolling by, no one's bothered to investigate that pony's scream. That would indicate either one of two things: that no one here cares, or that expressing her fear this way is a common enough occurrence that it doesn't warrant an investigation, regardless of whether they care or not. Part of me is hoping it's the latter, because I don't want to be a pessimist right now.
Either way that's going to help me plenty, because this would have been incredibly risky otherwise.
The floor in the hallway is carpeted, something else I haven't seen too much of in my life. Granted it looks like it hasn't been replaced in decades, but it'll still muffle my footsteps well enough. Good thing, because trying to do “stealthy” while wearing heeled armored boots is what the humans call "boneheaded" even on a good day. I approach the door that the pony fled through, place the items against it and knock on it gently a few times...
...and race off as fast as I'm capable of, the built-in dash thrusters in my boots giving me metaphorical wings of my own.
I reach the fire escape just as I hear the door open. Taking care to keep my head tilted up so that my helmet's fins don't hit anything, I make a short hop to the left just high enough to clear the railing, while coming within a hair's breadth of hitting my head against the landing above me. In the same motion I do a 180° spin in mid-air and grab the railing to arrest my momentum, following it up by slamming my feet and free hand against the building's brick exterior. No longer in a hurry, I let go of the railing and let myself slide slowly to the ground.
Doesn't matter what condition I'm in. I am just too good at that.
Would I have been able to do those sorts of moves if I hadn't been a combat Reploid? Just in case anyone is able to download my memories in the future, I'd like to issue a warning: If you try these sorts of stunts at home, make sure you've signed your Will first.
Looking across both ends of the alley, I'm pleased to see that no one saw my little stunt. Looking above me to see if there's any pegasi, I can confirm that the air above me is clear. Too, the noise level from the streets hasn't changed any. Excellent.
Now then: the problem I have here is that I'll stand out if I try roving about in broad daylight. I'd like to see if I can accomplish anything when it gets dark, but I don't know when that's going to be. My internal chronometer is telling me that it's late morning, but since the last time it was calibrated was a few weeks ago--read: before I was blasted into another world--I can't trust it right now. So, I think I'll take the opportunity to hide a while.
My eyes roam around the alley. Now, how to go about doing that...
Leviathan's belief that she'd been unseen was off the mark.
When the scream reached her ears, the gray pegasus on the roof snapped awake immediately. "Ebony!" she'd whispered fearfully, taking flight and hovering over the alley.
She'd quickly scanned the area for whatever it was that had her eldest foal so frightened, spotting the "mannequin" in what seemed to her like an awkward position. She'd watched as it dropped to the ground and picked up several items, both of which the pegasus recognized as belonging to Ebony, and returned upstairs by repeatedly kicking off the wall. She'd drifted down and watched as it snuck over to their apartment and placed the items against the door, knocking to get her daughter's attention before bolting like a bat out of Tartarus. And she'd immediately returned to the rooftop out of sight before it could arrive back in the alley, her pre-parenthood reflexes and speed not failing her.
She counted to fifteen under her breath, then peeked back over the edge. The "mannequin" was putting together a makeshift shelter out of several crates, a tarp, and a few loose boards, all of which were left over from a remodeling just prior to the Summer Sun Celebration and were due to be taken away in a few days. She caught the detail that the shelter was positioned in such a way that no one who looked into the alley from the street could see inside.
After nodding in satisfaction with its work, it crawled beneath the tarp into one of the crates and did not come out again. The pegasus snorted softly. Dolls are looking more and more realistic these days. The way it was acting, you'd think it was really alive. She smiled. Well, alive or not, it was nice of it to be considerate of Ebony's phobia. Seemed in poor condition, whatever it was.
With nothing keeping her on the roof, she flew down towards her apartment with the intention of consoling her foal, dismissing the sheer oddity of a bipedal acrobatic doll taller than she was outright.
Never let it be said that Ponyville had a monopoly on Equestria's absurdities.
It had taken a little bit for Ebony to calm down from the experience, helped in no small part by her mother's patience and her not needing to go outside where that thing was to pick up what she'd thrown. She was flummoxed as to how her flyswatter and bandoleer had ended up outside the apartment door so quickly, and she was confused as to why whoever had left them there would run away instead of greeting her like anypony else would in that situation.
Her first thought was that a speedy pegasus had seen what happened and braved that monstrosity to return them to her, but she dismissed it in short order. Aside from her mother there were only two pegasi who lived in the building, and not only were they not particularly quick, but both of them would be out working at this time and probably wouldn't return early for anything short of the feather flu. The second was that her mother was playing a practical joke on her, but that too was thrown out the window. Her mother might be the playful sort, but she wasn't mean.
It was when both hypotheses were rejected that her mother dropped a bombshell... or in her case, a spray can under too much pressure.
"Wait, wait, wait, what?"
"Volume, dear. Volume."
"Oh, heh. Sorry. But seriously, it was moving on its own? You saw it?"
"Didn't I just say that I did?"
That confused Ebony more than anything. She might have been ferociously creeped out by mannequins--with that fear being a secondary reason behind her refusal to consider any sort of modeling career--but she retained enough common sense to know that they were entirely immobile, and could not move without outside help. She shivered as a mental image of a mannequin charging at her crossed her mind. "I c-can't say I'm on board with that idea..."
"It's not going to be coming after you. Don't you worry," her mother told her gently, giving her a quick hug. "Last I saw it, it was resting in a small shelter down in the alley." She let go and turned aside, rubbing her chin with a hoof. "I wonder if it knows that it can't stay there for long. Mortar & Son are supposed to be back in a few days to pick up their supplies."
Ebony gave her mom a weird look. "Why would it 'know' anything?" she asked. "It's not alive." Under her breath, she added: "Thank Celestia for that..."
A smile. "Just entertaining a flight of fancy. I've always wanted to see new and interesting creatures."
"If by 'new and interesting' you mean 'scary enough for a Royal Guard contingent'..." Ebony muttered. "But seriously, you need to stop jumping to conclusions like that. There's no way something like that could be called 'alive'."
Her mother sat down on the living room rug and gestured for Ebony to do the same. "If you think that, then you'll want to be settled in for this. Let me give you a pop quiz, Ebony. Of the fifty-two apartments in this building, how many of them are occupied?"
Being a social pony, Ebony had once made it her goal to become acquainted with all of the building's occupants. She knew the answer by heart. "Thirty. It used to be thirty-one before old Oak Stake had his heart attack last season."
The pegasus nodded, wincing at that reminder. She'd always liked that thestral, as he'd had no shortage of horror stories to tell. "And of those thirty... not counting ours would make that twenty-nine... how many of them are typically unoccupied during the afternoon for any reason?"
It took Ebony almost a full minute for her to proceed through the entire list. "All but two. One's recovering from hip surgery, and the other's a day sleeper. Everypony else is out working."
"Two for two so far, dear. Let's make it three for three: with the rest of the family elsewhere visiting your aunt, and no one who would know where we live being nearby at the time, who do you think it was that returned your things?"
Ebony started to say something, but her mouth froze in mid-motion. She looked off in the direction of the alley, one eye trembling, then back at her mother. "...You're kidding. The m-mannequin left them at the door?"
"Saw it happen with my own eyes." The pegasus gestured at them meaningfully. "And since you woke me up by screaming your fear of it right in its face, that would explain why it decided to flee afterward: to keep from scaring you half to death. Call it what you want, but I call it 'considerate'. If that's not a sign of being alive, then what is?"
Ebony recoiled at her mother's stern tone. She knew she got like that if she wanted to spell something out without sugarcoating it. "If it's a-alive, then why does it look... look like that?" she protested.
"I don't know," her mother admitted, voice softening back to normal. "I've met a few bipeds in my life, but nopony that looked like this."
A blink... "It's bipedal?"
...which was responded to with a nod. "It stood tall and straight on two legs. I think if it tried to jump too high in the hall, it could've gotten its head stuck in the ceiling." She waited for Ebony to stop snickering before continuing. "It was wearing clothing, too. Some sort of white bodysuit with boots, a jeweled helmet, and light armor. I didn't see a tail, and I don't know if it has a mane or not." She held up a hoof to forestall another protest. "And before you ask me how I know it was a bodysuit and not something like fiberglass, it was marred with damage front and back. I didn't need to get up close to know that it wasn't in good shape. What did it, I don't know."
Ebony's grin had extra "cha" added to it. "Is it wrong for me to be envious of your eyes, mom?"
The pegasus shrugged dismissively as she sat up. "We all get tunnel vision sometimes. Don't worry about it, dear."
Wasn't quite what I meant, but whatever. Eebon followed suit as she looked in the general direction of the alley indecisively. Proper manners would dictate that she go down to there, apologize to that thing for her outburst and thank it for returning her things, but the mental image of an abomination wasn't so easily shoved aside. Another shiver, this time one that went straight to her bones. "All the same, Mom, I think I'd j-just have another freakout if I went back there. The s-sooner it leaves, the better."
Her mother smiled. "I understand completely. Would it be alright if I thanked it on your behalf, though? It's only polite."
If Eebon's mom had been anypony else, the mare would have been worried for her safety. As things stood... "Sure. That would be great."
A quick nuzzle later, the pegasus was out the nearest window, her wings beating silently.
I feel ridiculous. Someone of my storied history and capabilities without a home of her own, hiding out in a box like a vagrant?
Privately, I used to think the same thing about Zero. The legendary Reploid from a century past was reduced to fighting for a pitiful rebel band that would've been erased several times over without his intervention. The difference is that at least he had the freedom to move about as he pleased: I've seen camera footage of him returning to areas he completed mission objectives in for the sake of collecting Cyber-Elves that he missed on his first visit. Me? I don't even have freedom of my own anymore. I have to wait until dark if I want to keep others from seeing me.
And there are few things I hate more than being covered with dust and dirt. I'd wanted to get that dealt with after Omega was destroyed, but being sent here put a temporary kabosh on that plan. Water and ice are my friends, and they help me relax. Grime does not.
To save energy, I put most of my functions in sleep mode and place my auto-repair at its lowest setting. Inexperienced Reploids would probably keep that system going at all times, but it still draws on the body's supply of Energen, a.k.a. E-crystals. I'd rather be damaged and active than whole and deactivated, and it's not going to be entirely useful without a capsule to accelerate the process anyway.
I leave just enough of my systems and processes alone to stare idly at the shelter's interior and think about what I've seen in the short time since I woke up on that rooftop, because there are already a few things I don't understand. The first one is the big one: ponies being able to speak human languages. That by itself is physically impossible, as their vocal structure does not allow for it... but those two advertising ponies were quite clearly talking to each other in a spoken tongue, even if I couldn't hear most of it. Too, that young one's scream was in an accent that would not have been out of place in Neo Arcadia.
If I wasn't so dead-set on getting back home, I'd find a library and see if I could discover just how ponies got to be in charge of the planet. And since I'm nothing resembling a bookworm, that should provide an idea of how curious I find all of this to be.
The other thing isn't as high up on the priority list, but still odd all the same. When I was hit with that flyswatter, there was a thick green glowing outline around it that my scanners didn't recognize. When I recovered it, the outline was gone.
Maybe ponies here have a way of controlling objects remotely? Since their hooves lack any sort of digits with which to grasp objects, it would make at least some sense. If it turns out that they are cyborgs, that would mean their tech base is higher than first impressions would indicate, which theoretically means that their sciences are far enough along to allow research into interdimensional travel... but shouldn't that mean that the real estate in this city would look much fancier? Or is the race as a whole just into these old-fashioned aesthetics?
Either my mind's a bit loopy due to Omega, it's obvious that I was not built to be an interior decorator, or both. I'll let those viewing my memories make the call.
I sigh quietly. It's a long way until dusk. My kingdom for someone to talk to so that I wouldn't have to keep talking to myself...
"Hi there, Miss Mannequin," a feminine, dry, and mildly raspy voice speaks into the empty air as an unexpected weight settles onto my legs just in front of my feet. Oval-shaped yellow eyes stare into mine. "How's tricks?"
I leap halfway up the building---or at least I would if I hadn't shut off my limbs! "GYAH! What in---?! Who are you? How did you get in here?" Was that my voice? That shriek's not appropriate for a warrior!
"So you can talk," the voice says, not answering my question. "Good to know. You are aware that if you need a place to stay, there are plenty of unoccupied rooms here, right?"
I take a few moments to calm myself down before speaking. "I'm not an idiot, pony. That would require money, and I don't have any. On me or otherwise. Unless you'd be willing to take me in?"
The voice rejects that offer firmly. "You scare my daughter just by existing. I'm not going to subject her to your presence if she doesn't want it."
Something about this doesn't make sense, and it's not me speaking to a pony and expecting a response. "And you're not scared of me, why?"
The voice actually laughs at this. "I'm a horror aficionado, Miss Mannequin. I've seen, read, or heard about a lot of strange stuff across my life. Personal experiences, stage plays, books, you name it. Being able to talk to you is making my heart race with excitement. Kind of hard to scare someone with an off-kilter fear factor!"
"...So I'm a monster from some cheap production," I grouse, glaring... at what, even I don't know. "Nice to know that my place in life is secure."
"You're saying that whoever built you was trying to make you approachable?" the voice asked. "Because I have to say that it would have the opposite effect. The entire city would be on edge in your presence, even if you didn't do anything to antagonize them. Not because it's any fault of yours, but because of how we're wired as a whole. Unless we're at least passingly familiar with a given species, we'd be perpetually walking on eggshells." The eyes stared down sheepishly. "Though I would like to clarify that the reason my daughter panicked is because of her phobia and not because of any biological fear, so..."
"I gathered that much," I reply curtly. I'm not approachable? I don't know how to feel about that. "So did you come down here just to shoot the breeze? I have had a stressful day, and I would like to get some rest before I move on."
The eyes regarded something outside the shelter before their source spoke to me. "Want to talk about it?"
I don't trust the pony just yet, particularly not after she'd scared me as a greeting. I told her as much.
"Fair enough," she answered. "I'll get to the real reason I'm here, then." Her tone of voice became much kinder. "My child wanted me to say 'thank you' for returning her belongings. And I wanted to say 'thank you' for being mindful of her fears when you did. That was very appreciated."
That was worthy of a smile. I think it's the gentlest one I've offered in years. "Glad to have done it. You're welcome."
There's a bit of pressure around my leg just below the knee, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. The eyes began to move away towards the alley, and I finally recognize their source as the pegasus I'd seen earlier---
"Hold on a second," I spoke, the pony stopping before she left the shelter. "Something I've been curious about since that flyswatter hit me. I'd seen an outline around it when it landed, but when I picked it up the outline was gone. Do you know what that's about?"
The pony shrugged, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that seems like she was incredulous. I'm not an expert on equine expressions. "Not seeing the big deal. It was just magic. My daughter's a unicorn. I thought you knew that already."
...
Magic... she's being completely... how the... that can't... WHAT THE ACTUAL---
The pegasus watched wide-eyed as the mannequin's face contorted a bit in thought. She jerked away as its eyes shot open and mouth hung open wide, its visage one of pure shock...
...just before it sagged, abruptly falling asleep with a high-pitched groan.
"Um, hello?" the concerned pegasus inquired, nudging it a few times. "You okay?" She waved a hoof in front of its face. "Um... Sapphire Shores is here, and she wants to give you an all-expenses-paid pass to the city's best hotel?"
No response. She might as well have been talking to an actual doll for all the progress she was making. "Huh. I didn't think it would take it that badly. Weird. Guess it really did have a long day." She shrugged. "I'll check back later and see if its woken up by then. Maybe then I can get some actual answers on what it is..." A happy smile. But for now, it's a nice day and I feel like spending it with one of my favorite children. Wonder if Ebony feels up to having an early dinner at the park?
And so it was that Gray Ghost--a name prospective criminals once dreaded during her tenure with the Manehattan Royal Police--happily flew back into the building to collect her foal, content in the knowledge that the "mannequin" was never going to be a true threat to her family and home... and knowing full well what she was to do if she was proven wrong.
Mortar was on a roll today. He and his son Pestle had been called upon for five different repair jobs during the day, and they'd finished them all in record time and with little fuss. He credited it to decent weather and being well-rested for once, allowing him to focus on the tasks at hand without being distracted. It was a far cry from how he felt just after the Summer Sun Celebration, the most recent event of its line having been hosted in Manehattan this year. That had been tiring.
The grass green Earth Pony with the tan-gray mane and tail had been working for decades, his darker-toned son joining him of his own initiative when he reached adulthood. Home repair and remodeling weren't easy occupations, but they were ones he'd always had a knack for, and the fact that they paid well was just a bonus. As the years went by and increasingly newer renovations had come to light in different fields, he'd come to the conclusion that knowing how to fix them if they broke was a good call on his part. As such he'd taken a few different courses at local schools over the years just to make sure that he knew what he was doing.
Something else he'd learned during his career was how to optimize his time spent working. If one assignment was close to another and he already had everything he needed to get started, then it would make more sense to move on to that one instead of making the trip back to his office first. So as he and his son hitched themselves up to their work-cart after finishing their fifth assignment, he took note of the familiar street they were on and turned slightly to face him. "We aren't more than a few blocks from the Hyacinth Apartments. Think anypony will complain if we stopped by to pick up our supplies early?"
"They would probably thank us for it," Pestle noted wryly. The both of them checked to make sure no one was in their path before they started on down the road at a decent clip. "We were a bit too careless just leaving them scattered around. Rolled up like that, the tarp's a real tripping hazard. I wouldn't blame them if they just chucked the thing into the dumpster themselves."
"In my defense I'd wanted to get everything done before we got ripped away from work," Mortar retorted in jest. "Your mother was insistent that we ate out at Macro's Pasta sometime, and I know better than to test her patience."
Pestle snorted to hide his smile. "That's no real excuse for disregarding common sense, Dad."
"I know, I know. Just have to remember to be a bit more careful next time..."
Mortar & Son trotted on, not knowing of the unintentional tribulation that awaited them in that alley.
Reboot completed. Defragmentation and diagnostics are in progress. Please do not run any other programs until the procedures are finished, or experience hindered physical ability for the duration. Thought processes active at 12% power. Baseline audio set active at 4% power.
Defragmentation 52% complete.
Well. That happened.
Magic, it...
Wow. I can't even try to think comprehensibly about it without feeling rattled. I just straight-up crashed. Better ease back a little.
It makes sense, in a weird mind-bending sort of way. Since time immemorial, civilization has used 'magic' as a catch-all term for anything that they feel lacks a scientific explanation. Even now, centuries after the advent of advanced robotics, stories about magical lands and creatures are still used to entertain human children and distract them from the terrible state that Earth is in.
But that pegasus's tone of voice implied that she was completely serious. She firmly believed that me getting hit in the face was due to 'magic'. I don't know if I'm ready to accept it as fact or not, seeing as how doing so would mean both that my hypothesis that they were cyborgs was incorrect, and that their tech base is as low as I was beginning to fear it was after all.
And if struggling to understand that 'magic' truly exists did this to my memory, then I am not eager to discover what full knowledge of its workings would do to my CPU.
On the other hand: assuming that it is real, that would mean that the residents here see it as a way of life, that it comes as naturally to them as breathing. Magic may as well be technology to them; inversely, something like one of Harpuia's energy blades would blow their minds just as easily as a flyswatter blew mine away. There are a couple avenues here that are worth exploring if the worst comes to pass.
But the trick is making sure that it doesn't. My goals have not changed: come nightfall, I absolutely must find a home base of sorts, suitable repair tools... and barring a cache of Energen spontaneously appearing somewhere, something I can use as a substitute fuel source. I'm starting to get a bit hungry.
For now, I'm immobile until my internal hardware finishes its work. The average combat reploid, be they Mutos or human-esque like myself, has at least twenty petabytes of storage space built-in and separated into anywhere from a hundred to a thousand partitions. This is necessary to accommodate our exclusive operating systems and subroutines, along with our assorted abilities and the precise programming required to execute them. That's without considering all the memories, experiences and knowledge that we would accumulate across our entire lives, plus the intricacies of our personalities.
And even processors as powerful as mine or my fellow Guardians' will take a little while when faced with something of that size.
My internal clock is switched off, so I'm unsure of what time it currently is. All of my external senses are disabled except for my hearing, and even that's limited to my immediate vicinity. There's no point to opening my eyes right now due to me not seeing anything yet, so I have to trust that I'm still in the shelter and that I haven't fallen out far enough to be visible from the sky. I'm hoping that no one wanders into the alley in the meantime.
...And if those voices that I'm hearing are proof of anything, it's that I really need to quit while I'm ahead.
Two of them, both male. If I'm any judge, one's a young adult and the other is on the verge of middle-age. I'll try to see if there's anything I can do to push my hearing back towards normal.
Baseline audio set active at 7% power. Further adjustments not recommended at the present time.
Sigh... That's going to have to do. Now then, let's hear what they're up to.
"...feels strange, Dad. Were the crates always arranged like that?"
"No, I had them all over here. Don't think they'd need to put them like this to get to the dumpster..."
"Weird. Maybe it's a case of OCD or something? You know, somepony just wants them set up a specific way?"
"Dunno. I'm not a doctor. Let's just get these loaded up. Pestle, could you grab that tarp?"
Oh, no. Please don't, please don't---
The tarp's rustling, dropping my hopes into the depths of the ocean. Sure enough, a moment later...
"Sweet mother of Celestia! Dad, you've got to see this!"
"...Well. You don't see something like this everyday. What in the world is this?"
'Sweet mother of Celestia'? Wonder exactly who it is they're referring to...
"I don't know. Looks a lot like a Timberwolf used it as a chew toy."
"Rather thoroughly. Take a look right here. Whatever did this ripped a gash right through a sheet of steel."
That's actually a ceratanium frame beneath my synthskin. Only the best for a "child" of X. ...Buuut, I'm not in a position to argue semantics.
"Looks weathered. It's been through a lot."
"Ain't that the truth. There's enough damage here that you can see inside of it."
Oh, sure. Announce it to everyone, why don't you? ...Well, they're still being reasonably quiet, so it's not like they're announcing it to everyone, but... again, semantics. It's not enough to have dust and dirt in my systems, but to have complete strangers finding out about it?
Defragmentation 72% complete.
Okay, okay, come on, hurry it up...
"Huh... not very discernible, but what I can see isn't making much sense."
"Wonder who'd make something like this, and why..."
"Some kind of arts and crafts project that went overboard, maybe?"
"Or it could be a prop for a stage show. Maybe someone here tried to donate this to that new horror theater that opened up, and it didn't work out. Take a look around the edge of this gash, Pestle."
"If that's meant to be a bloodstain, it's a pretty good facsimile, Dad. I almost thought it was real." A few sniffs. "Smells a bit funny, though."
Okay, two things. One, I have to wonder why the coolant we use closely resembles blood. At the very least, the auto-repair was able to seal the ruptured lines before X sent us after Omega, so I'm not a total mess. Two... horror theater? They think I'm a monster? Okay, I get that I'd be frightening to these ponies, but that's just insulting...
Current Power Output: 6% of capacity. Will not reach higher than 35% in current state. Please utilize your repair crew or capsule to regain full functionality.
Energen Levels: 26%. WARNING: Solar backup heavily damaged and unusable. Do not let Energen Levels drop below 5%, or risk long-term shutdown.
Structural Integrity: 62%. Ceratanium frame and synthskin have sustained widespread damage. Please utilize your repair crew or capsule to regain full functionality.
Auto-Repair Systems: 87%. Currently set to 1%.
Armor Integrity: 92%. Cursory damage to helmet and boots will not affect performance.
Motor Control: 73%. Debris in system are affecting speed, agility, and full range of movement. May become a liability if self is submerged in water. Please remove promptly.
Dash Thrusters: 100%. Systems nominal.
Coolant Levels: 83%. Please replenish at your earliest convenience.
Combat Capabilities: 40% overall. Please avoid combat if possible.
Ice Manipulation: 29%. Main system undamaged. Low efficiency due to self's subpar functionality.
Frost Javelin: 98%. Cursory damage will not affect usage. Systems nominal.
Armed Phenomenon: 0%. Offline due to low Energen levels, structural integrity, and power output.
Recommended Course of Action: Get repaired IMMEDIATELY.
...
Defragmentation 76% complete.
Makes sense to me. Our first fight with Omega ended poorly, and while I didn't take much more damage prior to my vaporization, continuing to fight in that condition didn't help at all. This should help me formulate a decent plan of action, provided that these two don't try anything funny---
"Think we should cover it with the tarp for the trip back?"
"Good idea, Pestle. Probably would unnerve anyone who doesn't have the full story." A quiet grunt. "Hn. Not quite as heavy as I was expecting."
Wha...! He's carrying me! Okay, I call foul! I did not ask for this!
...
Wait... he's carrying me? I wouldn't call myself 'bulky' by any stretch, but I'm no lightweight either. If that pegasus is any indication, these ponies aren't that much higher than my waist. Are they all that strong, or is this just a special case?
Fah. Distractions! Doesn't change anything, I'm still being manhandled like a box of rations! ...Ponyhandled? ...GRAAGH!
Yes, I know that technically they're not "threats", and this is probably far from being the pathetic world I called home, but it's the principle of the matter! One of X's Guardians and one of the world's best fighters is not supposed to be lugged around like trash!
Except... if my efforts to get home don't pan out, then... I'm not technically one of the Guardians anymore, am I?
Wow, Leviathan. Bottle that feeling and market it as a cure for drunkenness. Alcoholics the world over will love you.
I can hear the tarp rustle some more, and a very slight 'clunk' as the back of my helmet hits something. Guessing they've loaded me onto whatever they use for transportation, with the crates I used beside me. The sounds aren't metallic, more like...
"Got everything?"
"Sure do, Dad. Let's go."
...wooden. That's the sound of wood rolling against a paved road. Two ponies are towing what amounts to a cart, and they have the gall to think of this as 'transportation'. This is not raising my opinion of this world at all: it was obsolete before robotics kicked into high gear. Even a motor vehicle straight out of the 20th century would have been preferable... though if they're anything like the newer ones that I saw in Neo Arcadia's junkyards once, I suppose getting my seat to accommodate my helmet's fins would be a hassle.
Defragmentation 84% complete.
Yes, and it's not moving fast enough. I'd love more than anything to actually see what's happening, but if I tried activating my eyes while the defrag's in process, anything I'd see would be a full second behind what was actually happening. That's certainly not optimal.
...Optical?...
Shut up, girl. If you have time for bad jokes, you have time to figure a way out of this situation.
"So where to, Dad? Back to the office?"
"Let's swing by that horror theater first and speak to the management, see if somepony tried to bring this in. If they did and it was rejected, we'll keep it on hoof until we can get it donated to some art museum or other. Tout it as a work by 'An Unknown Artist', or something."
Some minor confusion. "I'm still wondering what you'd even call it."
"Not a clue, Pestle."
The ponies have fallen silent as they travel, leaving me with my thoughts. Living the rest of my existence as some sort of prop to scare others? That's an undignified end if there ever was one. Sorry, but I'm going to have to disappoint all of you.
Defragmentation 91% complete.
It's at this point that the younger of the ponies wonders something that I didn't get. "Huh. I wasn't aware that we were supposed to get any rain today. Dad, I don't suppose you heard anything about the weather schedule?"
"Blue Streak told me this morning that there was a storm in the works, but everything he said indicated that it wasn't until tomorrow." An irritated grunt, which I imagine is a few steps up from an annoyed grunt. "Wouldn't be the first time that the Manehattan weather team dropped the ball."
"How far are we from the theater?"
"Let's see... we're at 15th Street now. I can see it a few blocks down. We've got plenty of time before the clouds reach us."
'Weather team'? Are they talking about meteorologists? Or is it something similar to the weather control stations back at Neo Arcadia?
On a related note, what is the ecosystem like here? I wasn't paying a lot of attention, so I didn't see more than one or two trees poking out above the rooftops when I first arrived---...ugh, 12% is not enough for this deep a subject. I just know that if the environment is in ruins like it is back home, I'm going to have words for whatever idiots botched it up.
Again, assuming I'm stuck here.
The sounds of the cart's movements stop altogether, and I can hear the ponies leave it behind for the moment and walk through a door. Now's as good a time as any to leave... but that blasted defrag is still going. Trying to do that now while my senses are dulled would mean any number of things going terribly, horribly wrong.
But as soon as it finishes, I'm gone. No questions asked.
Defragmentation 97% complete.
"EEEEEEEEE!"
Okay, 7% volume was much too high for that. What is going on in there?
Mortar and Pestle winced at the noise that exited the proprietor's mouth. When they had gone in to inquire of the owner whether or not somepony had wanted to turn over something of the doll's description, they hadn't expected "crazed joy" to be her reaction.
"Burning Salamandra" was a fitting stage name for her. Her greeting to the two in the well-lit front lobby was calm and friendly, as if they were visiting a doctor's office instead of a theater dedicated to all things frightening. But when allowed to delve into her area of expertise, her passion for the arts blazed for all to see. It was very unsettling, and it caused her flaming-theater-mask Cutie Mark to pulse against her dull purple coat.
Both ponies regarded each other for a moment before returning to Salamandra. "So... is that a no?" Pestle asked.
"Are you kidding me?!" Salamandra all but shrieked. She pranced in place as she talked, a beaming grin stretching across her face. "I think I'd know if somepony had tried to donate something as beautiful as what you're describing! Coming up with something new to add to my repertoire almost as soon as 'The Lantern Named Jack' finishes its run?! That's a new record! Oh, I knew today was going to be a good day!"
Mortar shrugged minutely. "We'd planned on taking it to an art museum if you'd turned it down, but as long as you're happy about it, we might as well give it to you. We've got it sitting in our cart out front if you want to see it and judge for yourself."
"Do I?!" Salamandra settled down just enough to make sure the bracelets she wore around her front legs weren't going to slide off. "Got to make myself look presentable...!" She ran her hooves through her mane, making it look significantly more unkempt before clipping a black bow to the back of it. "There we go. Much better! Let's go, gentlecolts, let's go!"
...
"I'm telling you, Dad," Pestle muttered quietly. "All the ponies in this city are crazy."
"Think I'm starting to agree with you on that," Mortar quietly answered as they led the crazy unicorn out the door. "Though that little village outside of Canterlot gives this place a serious run for its money."
Not looking too promising. I just heard that door open, and there's a third set of hooves joining the two that went in. I'm making a guess right now that it's the building's owner wanting to check me out. I wish she didn't, but it's not looking like I have a choice.
Defragmentation 100% complete. View full report? (N)
There, finally. Thank you! My eyes open---
---just as the tarp is yanked off of me by one of the cart's drivers, filling my eyes with an influx of light. From none of it to all of it---! "KYAAA!"
Each pony present has different reactions to hearing me shriek. The two that had brought me here shout as I block off my vision; the younger one's tone is fully alarmed, while the elder's is more 'greatly surprised' than truly afraid. They are the ones that the pegasus had warned me about when she was talking about her species' biological reactions towards the unknown.
The third... is giggling. "Eeheeheeheehee~! You didn't tell me that it was capable of moving!" she declares. As my eyes start to adjust, she scrambles alongside the cart and rears up on her hind legs to get an up-close investigation. "So detailed! It looks so lifelike! This is a work of art!"
Her enthusiasm is off-putting. Never in my life have I heard anyone so genuinely happy. Not even Fefnir got like this whenever he got himself fired up over fighting Zero. I push away one of her hooves when it starts getting too investigative. "Don't touch the merchandise," I tell her sternly, blinking. I summon the Frost Javelin and hold it down at an angle, keeping her out of touching range while I get to my feet. "I don't have time to be caught up in whatever you want, so---"
"And speaking! A walking talking doll with its own weapon! Even better!" the pony squeals. A turquoise glow manifests around its horn, and a similar glow of the same color forms around me... just like the one I'd seen that young unicorn use on that flyswatter. I grimace, anticipating another shutdown, but this time my CPU simply refuses to rationalize what I'd seen and decides 'don't question it'. Of course, it's not like getting yanked over the side of the cart and deposited on the sidewalk is much more dignifying. "There aren't any wires controlling it anywhere, and I'm not seeing any magic at work! Fascinating!"
My eyes flick off to the side. The display is starting to attract a few passers-by, and I know before long there is going to be a crowd. The two ponies who'd transported me are keeping a safe distance from us both, which is probably for the best. "Stop. Touching. My face," I warn, pushing the pony back and reassuming a more vertical position. "I'm not joking, unicorn."
"Awww, why not? That sorry state you're in is adorable," the unicorn whines adorably... which is itself disturbing, because comparing her to that gray pegasus lets me determine that she is a full-grown adult. "I could definitely see you as a prop in my next stageplay."
No. "This 'sorry state' is because I was involved in something that endangered my life," I bite out, perhaps a bit more viciously than I'd intended. "Do not push me any further."
The pony tilts her head slightly. "You're certainly the most complex doll I've ever seen in my life," she speaks, not really paying attention to what I'd just said. Her smile, which had wavered when I'd pushed her away from my face, has returned in force. "What sort of pony would just throw something like you away, especially when you're ready-made for the theater? The design, the emotion! I absolutely must have you for my collection!"
No! "I said I'm not going in there!" I state emphatically, pointing the Javelin down at the pony and backing away a few steps while glaring at it. Some mysterious force is making my limbs quiver slightly. ...Is this what fear feels like? "I am not some thing to be seen as entertainment. I have my own existence, with my own thoughts and feelings. If you're going to take me, then you'll have to reduce me to pieces first!"
The unicorn's face lights up at that. Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say to someone who specializes in horror. "Now you're speaking my language!" she crows. She leaps at me in an arc that takes her over the Javelin and straight at my probably-surprised face. "Come to Sally!"
NO!
She's aiming to either tackle me or hug me, and neither is very appealing. With my bluff called, there's only one correct response to this: run. I dismiss the Javelin back to storage, duck beneath the unicorn as she flies over my head, and take off in the direction she had just jumped from, pushing myself and my dash thrusters as fast as my compromised motor controls will allow. I don't care about staying hidden anymore. I just want this crazy pony away from me.
Behind me, I hear 'Sally's' voice echoing in all directions almost as soon as she lands. "Come one, come all, horror fans and fiends! We've got a runner!" she calls as her hooves began beating down the sidewalk towards me.
Somewhere in the background, thunder rumbles. Closer still, the street rumbles as a handful of those ponies who'd been watching nearby decide to heed Sally's cry and gallop after me.
Apparently, this is my life now. Joy of joys...
...
"Dad?"
"Yes, Pestle?"
The younger pony's voice teetered on the edge of anxiety from what he had just seen. "I would like it very much if we went home right now and hope that we never see that thing again," he requested, eyes still wide.
Whether he was talking about the suddenly alive not-a-doll or the nightmare enthusiast was a question for the ages, but either way the father had no argument for that. The two of them quickly hitched themselves to their cart and took off for their office like windigos were nipping at their fetlocks.
Ebony and Gray were in the middle of enjoying BLTs and lemonade at the park---with the 'B' standing for 'begonia'---when they both twitched for different reasons. The former looked back at the thundercloud she could see being gathered in the distance, whereas the latter stared in a different direction entirely. "You hear that?" Ebony inquired.
"Yes," Gray answered, her voice having a strange tone. "It's a cry of horror and despair that speaks to the heart."
Ebony rolled her eyes. The filly had swapped her bandoleer for a pink "Momma's Filly" T-shirt, seeing no need to chase after bugs in their native environment. "Melodramatic much, Mom?"
"And yet it's appropriate for the situation at hoof." Gray blinked as she brought herself back to reality. "Though I think we were talking about entirely different things. Did you hear anypony say anything about rain today?"
"No, I didn't."
An irritated sigh. "Leave it to the weather team to ruin a completely nice day... come on, Ebony. Let's go home. If we're fast, we can get back before it starts storming." And maybe I can convince that mannequin to shelter indoors when we get back.
With nothing else to say, Gray tossed her cup into a recycling bin and raced off, toting her sandwich in her mouth. Ebony, choosing to carry her food with her magic instead, pushed herself to keep up as they sought to beat the weather. Just another one of these times where you can't tell what's going to happen next... she thought wryly, wondering what the remaining hours of the day had in store for them.
The storm front spanned most of the western sky, but Ebony and Gray returned to the Hyacinth Apartments ahead of the approaching rain. They halted outside the front door for a few moments to catch their breath. "I'm too out of shape," Gray groused around her dinner, panting a little, "if I'm letting a little jog wind me like that..."
"Aren't you the one who's always telling me not to eat while I talk?" Ebony reminded her, recovering from their run first. "And that was hardly a 'little' jog."
Gray obligingly took the sandwich out of her mouth. "Sorry... just lamenting my lost youth."
Ebony snorted softly. "'Lost youth' my Cutie Mark." She took a quick bite from her own meal before continuing, smiling playfully. "You don't look any older than that Countess what's-her-name. Seriously, Mom, what's your secret?"
"If I knew, I'd make a mint. Could you hold on to this for a moment?" Gray answered, gesturing for Ebony to carry her BLT in her magic. "I have to warn that mannequin of the incoming storm. I don't think that tarp's going to be enough to protect it from rain damage."
Ebony shivered violently enough to make her teeth chatter for a moment, but obligingly claimed her mom's meal as the pegasus ducked into the alley. She took a sip from her lemonade to calm herself down---
"Nightmare Moon's sweet sorry keister!"
---and almost spilled her drink across her face when an angry shout escaped the alley a moment later. "Um, Mom?" she called out tentatively, ears folded to the sides. "Language?"
Gray flew back out of the alley, looking anything but apologetic for that burst of pony profanity. "Mortar & Son were here ahead of time," she said, lips set in a frown as she landed. "The alley's empty. Nothing left in there but the dumpster, and nothing in there but the trash."
Ebony shivered again, this time at the thought of the mannequin being on the loose. "But... that would mean..."
"That the mannequin's out and about somewhere, yes," Gray finished for her, looking up and down the street as if hoping to spot it somewhere. "Assuming that it woke up while they were on their way back to their office, or..." Her eyes widened, a thought crossing her mind that Ebony wasn't privy to. "...On second thought, I have a hunch as to where it is. Remember that 'cry of horror and despair' I mentioned at the park?"
"Yeah. What about it?"
"The Pyre's off in the direction I was looking." Gray turned her head off that way for the sake of illustration. "Sally's special talent lets her lure in like-minded ponies with the promise of fright, summoning them as easily as her puppets. Her latest performance ended its run pretty recently, and there's no way she could have come up with an entirely new show so soon, unless..."
Unless she has the mannequin, Ebony finished mentally, whimpering softly. "You're sure it's t-there?" she asked nervously. "Maybe the remodelers just took it back to their office without r-realizing it?"
Gray rejected that line of thought outright. "They're not blind, Ebony. Or stupid. They would have known something was strange about it immediately." She unfurled her wings, letting the apartment key that was concealed in one of them fall out; Ebony grabbed it with her magic before it hit the ground. "I'm going to see if I can run damage control. Go upstairs and stay there until I get back. Might want to keep a few towels handy, because there's no way I'll be back before it starts raining." She took flight, arrowing upwards.
"Mom, wait!" Ebony called after her. "What about your dinner?"
"Just put it in the fridge! I'll finish it when I get back!" Gray's reply dwindled in volume as she arced over the top of the building, not slowing down.
For a few moments, Ebony looked worriedly up at the place where her mother had vanished from view before shaking her head. "You really give new meaning to 'winging it', mom," she said as she entered the building, food in tow. I just hope that you don't get it in your head to bring it back here. I've already had one close call today. I don't need another.
So this is what it must have been like from the Resistance's point of view. I can't say I approve.
These ponies are persistent, especially that crazy unicorn that's leading the chase. The first chance she got, she tried to snare my foot with a tendril that wasn't there a few seconds before. A quick dash let me evade it, but then I had to make some fairly fancy acrobatics to avoid a series of flying lunges by the group's lone pegasus. I thought they were supposed to be afraid of the unknown? They sure aren't acting like it. If anything, it feels like they're making a game out of this.
Most likely that unicorn's work, even if I don't understand how she's doing it.
Counting "Sally" and the pegasus, I have ten ponies in pursuit. There are countless others all along the streets and looking out from the storefronts; some of them are gaping at the chase, not understanding what is going on, and most of the rest are either scared or getting that way. There's going to be a lot of panicking once that storm behind me catches up, I figure.
I risk a quick look behind me, deciding to make an attempt at calling off the chase. "Will you stop this already, please? I'm going to end up dying at this rate, so if I could live to see tomorrow, that would be great!"
One of the ponies seemed a bit disconcerted at this, slowing from a gallop to a trot, and finally to a walk. The rest of the group are undaunted, ignoring my pleas entirely as they leave him behind.
Energen Levels: 24%.
Grimacing at my general lack of success, I refocus on the path ahead. There aren't too many escape routes I can take, and even those I can use would still leave me to get accosted by that pegasus. Fighting back against them isn't an option: I might have been responsible for retiring numerous Reploids innocent and otherwise, but if I turned my Javelin on flesh-and-blood citizens who haven't done anything wrong, then I really would be considered a Maverick. While I can keep up this chase for a while, it's still an energy drain I can't afford.
And I refuse to contemplate trying to vanish into the sewers. Sorry, just... no.
But there isn't anything that keeps me from making this chase as fruitless as possible for my pursuers...
Summoning my weapon back to my hand and ignoring several gasps from the viewing audience, I channel a bit of power into it and tap the sidewalk with it in passing. A layer of ice rapidly forms across the ground, expanding for about two meters in all directions before coming to a stop.
As I correctly guess, none of my ground-bound chasers see that coming. "Sally" slips and skids on the ice, stumbling as she reaches the undisturbed pavement. She recovers and prepares to lash out with another tendril, but yelps as most of the other ponies collide into her and bowl her over, unable to recover their footing in time. The ball of equines crash into a lamppost, which brings their chase to a halt.
This maneuver handily reduces the number of pursuers to the pegasus alone. It's quick... definitely not Harpuia or Aztec Falcon quick, but fast and evasive all the same. One hundred miles per hour is nothing to scoff at, though happily my reflexes are still up to par in defending myself from its charges; to give Zero something resembling a good fight, they'd have to be. I try to avoid taking any direct hits from the pegasus, though: ceratanium frame or not, damage is still damage, and I don't want to make mine worse.
Shadows are encroaching on my field of view. A flash of light and a roar of thunder shake the air, and I can hear rain hitting everything close by in that direction. With the storm having arrived, the bulk of the onlookers decide to play it safe and retreat indoors. That still leaves a few of them out on the streets, and they're looking decidedly hostile. Best not make any moves towards them if I want them to stay out of this.
Normally I'd welcome an influx of rain, but as I was warned earlier, I still have substantial dust, dirt and debris clogging up space within my frame. Some of it was accumulated while I was sitting uselessly awaiting repairs that would never come, with more of it from the charge towards the abandoned lab that Zero was fighting Omega in. To say nothing of the lab itself. That place was a cesspool. Getting that stuff wet won't be doing my reflexes and mobility any favors, given the added weight.
The lightning, on the other hand... that might prove to be beneficial to me. I leap at the nearest building---a grocery store, if I'm any judge---with the intent of wall-jumping my way to new heights.
"Where are you going, dolly? Leaving so soon?"
I should have expected that "Sally" would have been too stubborn to quit just because of a little bit of ice. Another tendril has just coiled around my arm, yanking me off-balance in mid-air, and a split second's recognition lets me see that she's removed herself from the pile of ponies without issue. The pesky pegasus takes the cue and drives one of its hooves towards my gut; I place the Frost Javelin's shaft in its way just in time, but there is still enough force to smash me into the ground.
That strike wasn't anywhere near as damaging as what I've had to put up with in Neo Arcadia, but enough of them will add up over time. I flip back to my feet almost immediately---
"Whoa, dear!"
---and make another attempt at wall-jumping up the grocery store, this time dragging "Sally" along for the ride. I don't want her within range of what I intend to do, so as I scale the building I swing the Javelin one-handed through the tendril, severing and dissipating it. Magic, because of course. Don't think about it, just go.
I wince as the freed unicorn lands on her tailbone with a screechy "Yi!", but I can't spare the time and energy for any sympathy. As a smattering of rain drops begins pelting my helmet, the pegasus gets in close and directs strikes against my limbs to try and keep me from making any progress up the building. Foolish in most situations; had I been openly hostile, it wouldn't have lasted long. Pretty sure that the pegasus is taking full advantage of the fact that I'm trying not to be antagonistic.
Energen Levels: 23%.
It's not doing my patience any good, though, and I can see the other ponies finally recover from their collision and barrel on down toward me. It's mind-boggling; do they not care that they're in the middle of a storm? And just how durable are they to shrug off their crash? "Go..." I drop to the ground---coincidentally ducking beneath another swing from the pegasus---and stab the Frost Javelin straight down. "...AWAY!"
The Javelin plants itself in the sidewalk, blasting out a wave of iced-over dirt and cement in all directions. I see the ponies dodge by leaping over the attack as one, but at least it got them to back away at what I'd just done. "Sally", who is closer still, has the reflexes to smack away one particularly large fragment with one of those tendrils. The few bystanders in the attack's range have the foresight to get out of it before it can reach them.
But in my frustration, I'd forgotten about the pegasus. A single wingbeat takes it out of range of my attack, and I look up just in time to see it pivot in mid-air and deliver both of its back hooves to my face... "postage due", I think the expression is. The impact makes me stumble against one of the store's windows, cracking the glass with my helmet. Okay, that actually stung.
The pegasus hisses in what is likely mild pain and shakes one of its back hooves a little. I can hear those watching murmuring to themselves, but I'm ignoring them right now. "What kind of freaky thing are you? That felt like I was trying to buck through solid steel!"
"I don't see why I should tell you anything," I answer coldly as I dismiss the Javelin, one hand against my temple where the hooves had struck. I glance back behind me through the window, then face the ponies again. Was something trying to get my attention in that store? My HUD seems to think so, but first things first. "I've been trying to get you all to back off since this chase began. You haven't listened to a thing I've said, so why should I expect you to be willing to listen now?"
"GOTCHA NOW!" 'Sally' crows, taking another flying leap at my face.
Case in point! I cross my arms in front of my face to block, and as I do so I register the turquoise glow that surrounds my arms from the elbows forward...
"...?!"
And now I'm confronted with the reality that magic is a very dangerous thing to have. Both my arms have been forced down just far enough away from my face to prevent me from defending myself, much to my astonishment, and the unicorn's enthusiastic bound is met with zero resistance.
Kyahaha... 'Zero?' 'Resistance?' ... get it?
Self, just quit that already! It wasn't funny the first time!
...Anyway, if I hadn't braced myself before attempting to block, I'm certain I would have fallen over just now. These ponies are lighter than the average human to be sure, but momentum's quite the thing sometimes. And they're pretty strong, too: 'Sally's' legs are wrapped around my neck and torso, and they're taking some work to disentangle without physically harming her.
And I really wish that she would stop nuzzling my face. She's acting way too friendly towards what she thinks is a living work of art. I might have a high opinion of my appearance, but even I know that this is just wrong. "You ever hear of something called personal space?"
"Oh, sure," 'Sally' cheerfully answered. "I just don't feel that it applies here."
Energen Levels: 22%.
What. "Why? Because I'm not really 'alive', just some sort of puppet or doll? Because I'm obviously not having real thoughts and feelings?" I'm trying again to extricate the unicorn, using both my hands and forearms to pry her legs off of me... and now I have a pony holding on tight to my left arm like a monkey. Lovely. "You and I have different definitions of the term 'sentient'!" I turn to those that are just standing out in the rain like idiots, watching this all happen. "A little help here? This isn't a live performance!"
"And get near her? Or you?" one of the ponies answers, both too afraid to help but too curious to run. "As if! She's off her rocker, and Celestia knows what you are!"
There's that name again... "And I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?" I ask the pegasus who is still hovering close by. I had to close one eye to keep 'Sally's' mane from interfering with my optics.
"I got involved in this because I wanted to help her catch you," is said pegasus' reply. Odd; he actually seems a bit sheepish compared to his prior behavior. "Don't ask me why. It just seemed like a good idea at the ti---" He looks up, his eyes widening. "Take cover!"
As he shouts his warning and tears off across the street, with those nearest to us joining him, my systems are detecting all the pertinent warning signs. Prior to refocusing on combat, I'd worked with Harpuia---who would later become the Guardians' master of the skies---to help reclaim land for humans to live in. As such, while I can't harness any of it myself, I'm very familiar with the danger represented by high winds, heavy rain, and lightning. If the residents here are capable of predicting the precise location of where the next bolt is going to strike, something that we have yet to do back home, then that is as clear a sign as any that I have to act promptly.
And that means dislodging "Sally" from my arm through sheer force, or risk her becoming a casualty of high voltage. I channel every bit of strength I can afford to spare and throw my arm out to the side with a yell. The unicorn is flung away to my left with an indignant cry, and for a split second my peripheral vision spots a shadow moving to intercept.
I shut my eyes to protect my optics just before the world temporarily turns a bright blue-white.
Gray Ghost had caught up with the mannequin just in time to see Salamandra attach herself to the thing's face. Keeping a few other ponies between it and herself out of habit, she watched as...
I never did get its name, did I? Assuming it has one. ...Maybe I'll just call it 'Model Citizen' until I can learn what it is? That would be a nice dose of irony.
...'Model Citizen' struggled to remove the enthusiastic facehugger without hurting her. Another point in its favor, Gray mused as she let her eyes wander, taking in the damage that was done to the street while keeping one ear trained on the mannequin's 'discussion'. Most of a block away, a circular ice patch was in the middle of dissolving. Closer to the grocery store, a chunk of the sidewalk was straight-up scattered around the street in a multitude of pieces, each one glimmering with that same frozen sheen. Its first instinct when it comes to protecting itself isn't to hurt ponies. None of those close by look hurt---
"Take cover!" the pegasus who'd been talking to Model Citizen blurted out, catching Gray's attention just before he flew off towards the gathering. The earth ponies who were on the far side of the street rushed to obey.
Gray had wanted to be part of the city's Royal Police when she was growing up, not weather control, but she liked to think that those with an affinity for it knew what they were doing. And if what little she'd seen of Model Citizen fit any sort of pattern---
Sure enough, the mannequin forcibly flung Salamandra away from her across the road. Gray quickly calculated the trajectory, noticed the total lack of anything that would soften the theater owner's landing, and without any further thought she acted. As silently as her namesake, she shot forward and snagged her out of the air, delivering her to safety---
Two point three seconds after the order to take cover was made, a brilliant and particularly spectacular lightning bolt lanced down from the storm clouds above, striking Model Citizen directly. Those who were able to squeezed their eyes shut and jammed their hooves in their ears, the light and sound a consequence of being this close to ground zero.
It took a few seconds for those present to recover from the unexpected assault. Gray deposited a shivering Salamandra on the sidewalk under an awning and turned to see what happened to the mannequin, expecting to see it blasted apart from the lightning strike.
What she saw instead was Model Citizen still standing in the pose it had assumed when it had flung Salamandra aside, paying the rain sliding down off its form no mind. There was a sound akin to electrical crackling, but that faded to nothing after a couple moments more. There was absolutely no sign of damage beyond a black speck on its helmet where the lightning had struck, and even that gradually disappeared as the rain washed it away. There wasn't even a scorch mark, or any sign of the intense heat that lightning gave off. One by one, jaws dropped open until not a single one remained closed.
The mannequin stood up straight and brought one of its hands before its face, flexing its fingers as a pleased smile graced its lips. She brought the hand back to rest at her side before surveying both sides of the gathering. "Getting inside," Gray heard Model Citizen say in an appropriately dry tone, "would be a wise idea." Another lightning flash, this one off in the distance, punctuated her words.
This time the on-lookers obeyed, those who had nothing to do with the chase making tracks for home or otherwise seeking shelter. Most of those who had evidently joined in chasing after her did the same, apparently deciding that enough was enough. By the time everyone who was going to leave had done so, only four were left: Gray and the mannequin themselves, a visibly shaken Salamandra, and an ashamed-looking earth pony who was just now arriving at the scene.
Model Citizen folded its arms. "That goes for the rest of you, too," it... she stated in a tone that made it clear that she was not merely suggesting that they leave.
The earth pony regarded the ground for a second before getting his nerves about him. "Actually, Miss... Mrs.?..." he said with a tone of mild confusion.
The mannequin snorted quietly. Gray got the impression that she was imitating the sound instead of utilizing her nose, which made sense: still life didn't need to breathe. "'Miss' is fine. I've obviously never married."
The stallion chuckled at this before the situation settled back in. His speech was rife with hesitance. "I was wondering, Miss... if you could clarify what you said back there? You know, about dying?"
"'Dying'?" Gray mouthed, puzzled and just the slightest bit worried.
Model Citizen started to say something at this, but her hand went to her chin as she paused to think it over. Gray had just began to think about how pony-like a gesture that was when a reply was finally made. "Let's take care of that indoors. I can't imagine that being out in the storm like this is comfortable for any of you."
"Never mind us," Salamandra protested loud enough to be heard over the rain, her tone not as enthusiastic as Gray was used to hearing from her. "What about you?"
The mannequin's grin was easily compared to one Ebony once had when she received straight A's in school; it was wide enough that it could be seen from across the street. "'Sally'," she told the horror fanatic with a voice full of pride, "I was made for water." She turned and walked towards the grocery store's entrance, motioning for them to follow her. Gray was no expert in how bipeds walked, but it almost looked like she was strutting.
This show of arrogance vanished entirely as she approached the door, gestured at it... and smacked into it without so much as touching the handle. She stumbled back, looking for all the world like a confused puppy as she rubbed her nose. "Someone help me open this, please?"
Beat.
"...I take it back," Salamandra deadpanned, eyes half-closed. "I don't want it for the theater anymore."
"Yeah, I think the No Takebacks Accord has an allowance for this," Gray told her in the same tone. "And if there isn't one, we'll make one. Come on, let's go."
As she galloped across the street with Salamandra close behind, Gray's curiosity was at its peak. Ice manipulation? Lightning immunity? Completely out of the loop with concepts as basic as magic and door handles?
There was a story behind all of that, and she was going to hear it.
After that showy display of my defensive capabilities paired with a simple boast about my aquatic nature, I'm brought back down to earth by a basic door. I can only imagine what's going through these ponies' heads after that little debacle.
I can't even say it was anything but my fault. Few, if any, in Neo Arcadia are foolish enough to believe that doors have always opened either automatically or with a button press. The problem lies with the fact that how people passed between rooms centuries ago is a mystery. As with so many things in the world, the wars of ages past have erased libraries, museums, and archives alike. Knowledge of anything that existed before robots gained sentience, of dozens upon hundreds of things that the world once took for granted, is long gone.
And here I was, acting like a know-it-all and assuming that the door was going to open just because I was right in front of it. Master X must be spinning in Cyberspace right now.
Doorknobs... so basic in design, and yet so ingenius. Just turn it to the left or right, and it undoes a latch that keeps the door from swinging open. At that point it's just a matter of pushing or pulling on it depending on how the hinges are set. I shouldn't be so fascinated by this when I have much bigger things to worry about, but I can't help myself. I'm getting a glimpse of the distant past! Human or reploid, how many people back home can say that with a straight face?
Maybe when I get home, I can set one of these up to prank Harpuia. I respect him for his combat prowess and commitment towards keeping Neo Arcadia's humans safe, but the pretty boy really needs to develop a sense of humor. There's nothing wrong with smiling and laughing now and then, is there?
...Well, I guess there is if you're being laughed at instead of with. The workings of these doors is common knowledge to these ponies, and neither of these three that I'm with seem to know what to make of my lapse in judgement. One of those that are working the... um... "Miss pegasus, what were those things they were working with up front?"
"Cash registers. Why? You're confused about them too, right?"
Stop looking at me like that. When literally everyone has a card and a scanner for purchasing goods and services, what use do you have for coins and storage devices thereof?
Back on topic, one of those ponies working the registers had been watching the confrontation out the window. I can think of no other logical explanation for why he'd started laughing when I'd walked into the door. On the plus side, they're not going to see me as a threat if I keep doing things like that. On the other hand, I'd feel much better if I wasn't turning myself into a source of mockery and humiliation.
So to summarize what we'd been doing, the pegasus I'd spoken to in that alley showed me how to open the door, and the four of us entered the store... sopping wet. In my case it was no big deal, but the other three were getting water all over the floor and making a mess (the pegasus looked like she was about to shake, but the others stopped her in time). The store manager quickly pointed us to a back room where we wouldn't get in anyone's way and cause a disturbance, and the ponies were allowed to dry off and warm up.
There were some customers in the store, primarily young-to-middle-aged adults, and they were wary of me almost immediately. Strangely, when they saw who was escorting me, they gave the pegasus a respectful look and left us alone as we walked towards the back. It's mostly due to mild curiosity since she seemed more quirky than authoritative, but I have to wonder if she's in any position of power in this city and I just got her on her day off.
Assuming they have days off here. Keeping humanity safe from Mavericks was a full-time job for me.
Current Power Output: 35% of capacity. Will not reach higher than 35% in current state.
Motor Control: 68%. Water-saturated debris in system are effecting speed, agility, and full range of movement. Please remove promptly.
Energen Levels: 20%. Danger: estimate five hours before shutdown.
While the ponies were getting dried off, I did a quick scan of my systems to see how the lightning strike had effected them. As expected, it had been far more beneficial than harmful: power is flowing through my body more efficiently now, though until my generators are fully repaired they won't be able to operate at their maximum. It's starting to look more and more like I'm going to have to rely on my auto-repair systems to keep myself going, given what I've seen of the ponies' tech base from this shop alone.
As expected, the rain that seeped past my damaged frame sank into the grime within, adding a little extra weight... not much, but enough to throw off my timing to an extent. I have an idea as to how to deal with this, but it's going to have to wait until I'm positive that I have the ponies' approval. As much as I hate hate hate having that stuff stuck inside me, removing it isn't something that I can do without help.
My Energen levels are much more worrying. The warning I received told me that I have less time to resolve this issue than I'd first estimated. There's an object of interest that my HUD's been trying to point out to me since before the lightning, so I might---and I can't emphasize that word enough---be able to lengthen my operational lifespan, but again that's contingent on getting the ponies' approval. If it's something that's sold right here at the store, then I'm going to have to hope that they're willing to buy it for me.
'Sally' and the third pony, the latter not possessing wings or a horn, were satisfied with the state of their coats and discarded the towels they were using, sitting up straight. The pegasus decided instead to rest on her stomach, wrapped up in a towel a size too large for her with only her muzzle and face visible. There's a subroutine somewhere that's trying to get me to squeal about how cute that is, requiring me to squash it with all the force it deserves. "Well, then," I say, bringing myself down to eye level with them and sitting on the floor cross-legged. "If we're going to officially introduce ourselves, let's get it out of the way now. I don't have much time."
The three of them are looking at each other, trying to will each other into speaking up first. The male of the group is the first to fold, and he speaks up with a sigh and a shrug. "Name's Turkey Bowl. I make my living as a member of the Equestria Bowling League. I... guess it's nice to meet you, in light of the circumstances."
...And he just said all of that with a completely straight face. I'll take that at face value for now, but still... 'Turkey Bowl'? "How about you?" I inquire of the crazy unicorn.
"The masses call me Flaming Salamandra! Head of horror, master of marionettes, and president of peril!" she declares bombastically, almost blowing out my hearing. Thankfully she retains enough sense to dial it down for the rest of her introduction. "But you can call me Drama Heart. No hard feelings?"
"Gray Ghost," the pegasus greets me with a humble smile. "Just a housewife and proud mother of four."
You showed up out of nowhere, scared me half to death, and your speed would impress Harpuia. If you're just a housewife, then I'm just a factory model. "I see... and 'Equestria'?" I ask Turkey Bowl.
"You don't even know what Equestria is?" the pony asks, incredulous.
"I'm an outsider. Assume I've never heard the term before," I tell him, "because I haven't."
"Just how 'outside' are we talking here?" Drama Heart asks. "Griffonstone? Yakyakistan? Saddle Arabia? Abyssinia?"
"Ditto for those places, wherever they are."
The ponies are starting to look disconcerted. "How long have you been alive," Gray wonders, "that you don't know things that most ponies would find incredibly basic?"
"In its defense, I've never heard of Abyssinia either," Turkey Bowl states. "Sounds made-up."
"I can assure you, Abyssinia is very much real," Drama Heart corrects him. "Take a housecat, make it talk and stand on two legs, and have it taller than the average pony. That's what an Abyssinian looks like. Mind you, I only know this because I've seen artists' renderings of them, but all the same their homeland exists."
I decide to cut in before the discussion spirals out of control. "But to answer the sneaky cat's question, I've been in operation at least thirty years. I can't give you the exact date I was activated. My memories of that day are spotty at best, and when you're doing effectively the same things day after day for years, time passes quickly."
"And those things would be...?" Gray asks as the other two frown.
"Helping to clean the world's waters, making land devastated by years of war liveable again, and---eventually---protecting those that live on it from the depredations of criminals and terrorists," I tell them bluntly.
I don't need perfect vision to tell that this is confusing them. "Wh... why would you need to do those things?" Turkey Bowl wonders, concerned. "If the rest of the world were that bad, shouldn't we have heard at least something about it?"
I take a quick second to think of a reply before turning my lips into a chilling smile. "Nice choice of words there. 'The world'. That implies that yours is the only one out there."
Credit to these ponies: they're not idiots. Drama Heart's expression in particular is especially gobsmacked. "You... you're an alien?"
I consider the question for a bit before shrugging and giving them the abridged version of my journey here. "You're not too far off the mark. I was trying to protect an..." I frown as I consider the right word to describe Zero. No, not the term 'murder-crush', I don't care how accurate that is. More like... there we go. "...an ally from a violent explosion. Everything I saw and knew turned white." My eyes flick towards Gray. "When I'd gotten all my senses about me, I was on a rooftop next to yours."
"...Tartarus," Gray whispers, eyes wide. A curse of some kind, I'm guessing. "You're no mannequin or doll. Just who or what are you?"
I sigh, or at least do a good job of effecting it. "People will do anything to distract themselves from their problems. In an age where the situation could be both a hundred times worse and a thousand times better, there are still stories floating around. You probably know the type: someone gets snatched from his/her home and dropped in a land far away, and they have to either shape up or ship out before it's too late."
Both Gray and Heart nod at this, though I don't acknowledge them out loud. "That's effectively what has happened to me. This land of Equestria is as completely alien to me as I am to any of you. If I can't find some way to return home then I'll have to adapt to its environs for the long haul, but... my time and options are running out as I speak. The pick-me-up I got from that lightning strike isn't going to last forever, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm getting desperate."
I shift positions so that I'm kneeling instead of sitting, my head bowed towards the floor with my eyes closed. It's a bit condescending, but I don't care right now: this needs appropriate gravitas. "Permit me the dignity of an introduction, little ponies. I am a Reploid, a living machine of metal and coolant instead of flesh and blood. My name is Fairy Leviathan, one of Neo Arcadia's Four Guardians and commander of the Deep Sea Squadron, and I will gladly accept your help if you have any to offer."
Total silence. "...Though I will answer to just 'Fairy' if you think 'Leviathan' is too off-putting," I quip, opening one eye to scan the ponies' expressions.
The room's quiet for a bit longer. "...I woke up this morning to prepare for a bowling tournament," Turkey Bowl utters, stunned. "I did not expect this."
"I was going to brainstorm new ideas, maybe do some upkeep on my stage," Drama Heart added in the same tone.
"I was just going to sleep," Gray says happily. I'm not getting why she looks cheerful so quickly after she'd wondered who I was. I know, she said she doesn't scare easily, but still.
The others ignore her pleased proclamation, with Turkey Bowl being the one to speak what was on his mind. "So... you said something about a squadron. You're in your military?"
I shrug. "Essentially, but my rank's not going to mean anything here, so don't concern yourself with it. Far as I know, I'm the only one of us here."
"Whew. Good." His voice is filled with relief. "I was worried that there were more of you here, running around and making trouble for everypony. The last thing we need around here is a little chaos."
'Everypony'? I choose to stay quiet at that. My own questions can wait.
Drama Heart's recovered and getting up close again. I flinch when she does, because I seriously don't like the idea of her nuzzling me again. She stops shy of touching me, though, seeming more intent on my wounds. "These look completely messed up. I thought this was blood when I first saw it, but you said this was... coolant?" I nod as she continues talking. "These gashes and dents along your side here... what in Equestria caused them? ... Well, not Equestria but that Neo place, any... ugh." She throws up her hooves, exasparated. "You know what I mean!"
I wave off her blunder, readjusting from kneeling to sitting. "I hope you're settled in, because this might be hard to digest. A few weeks ago, my fellow Guardians and I were investigating a spaceship that crashed far outside the city limits..."
Twelve minutes after I started, the ponies are looking as if they were told the story of a lifetime. I'd explained everything that happened from my perspective, barring unneeded details: the first encounter with Omega and subsequent thrashing, being left alone with Fefnir in some room without either of us receiving any repairs, the unexpected meeting with Phantom and the true X while on the edge of unconsciousness, reuniting with Harpuia, and the explosion that enveloped us at the abandoned laboratory. I topped it off with my brief experience at what Gray called the Hyacinth Apartments.
"...so the unicorn screamed 'Mannequin' right in my face, threw her stuff at me, and took off for home." I nod in satisfaction and fold my arms. "Everything since, you already know."
The silence this time was deafening. And I mean that seriously. You're not supposed to hear silence, since it's the lack of noise by definition. It was so quiet that things I would normally tune out, such as the extraordinarily soft humming of my CPU, my auto-repair function and the circulation of coolant throughout my body, were registering as several decibels to my metaphorical ears. It's the first time that I've ever experienced this phenomenon to its fullest extent.
Gray finally breaks the silence with an awkward smile and just as ungainly words. "Heh... now I don't feel so bad about not buying the latest issue of 'Power Ponies' for Ebony. Your story more than makes up for it."
"You believe me, then?" I ask, hiding my hopefulness.
Gray and Drama Heart both nod slowly, probably because they're still having trouble swallowing this but haven't seen anything that would call things into question. "There's still one thing, Fairy," Turkey Bowl says, on the other hand. "You never explained what you meant when you said you were dying."
Finally hitting the more important topics. Good. "There's a specific crystal type back home called 'Energen'," I tell him, deciding to keep quiet about its role in Neo Arcadia's energy crisis. "It's basically food for Reploids. Just a handful of it completely refills my internal stores plus extra, keeping me going for close to a month before I'd need to eat more. On the flip side, if I go too long without having any, then there's nothing to keep my power generators or auto-repair system working. Everything would shut down, and..." My hand tightens a little. "...Unless someone was willing and able to jump-start my systems by placing the crystals manually, I'd be just as subject to the ravages of time as everything else. No better than scrap."
All three ponies' ears droop as one, which didn't strike me as a good sign even before any of them spoke. "I've never heard of anything called that," Drama Heart sadly confirms.
Gray's pity was palpable. "You can't eat anything else?"
"Don't get me wrong. I can safely eat and process foods that most would consider 'normal'," I hastily clarify. "They wouldn't do me any good, though. We don't have the means of gaining nutrients and energy from food like you can." A slight head shake. "And I was built without a sense of taste anyway, so I wouldn't be able to enjoy them even if I could benefit from them."
The implications of this would have brought down the mood in most situations. Happily, Gray's next words provide a bit of levity. "You really have no idea what you're missing."
I chuckle in response. "No doubt. There's still something a bit promising, though. My HUD... acronym, short for Heads-Up Display," I elaborate just to preempt any confusion, "has been telling me that there's something of note in the store that might serve as a temporary fix. I realize I'm asking a lot, but if it's something that can be purchased, would I be able to talk one of you into buying it for me?"
The two females look a bit pensive. I didn't know what Drama Heart's story was, but I imagine Gray probably wouldn't be too eager to spend money. If that was a low-rent apartment she lived in, she probably didn't earn a whole lot as it was. In contrast, Turkey Bowl was much less hesitant. "I got a nice prize from today's tournament, so I have some bits to spare. If it's not too expensive, sure."
I give the... stallion, I want to say?... a closer look. I've been preoccupied enough with my thoughts and explanations that I haven't paid much attention to his appearance. His tail is short and red, and his mane is next to nonexistent; I'm guessing that it was transplanted to his chin, judging by that beard he is sporting. His coat is a light brown, and I belatedly recall that he'd had a gray jacket over it, but it was soaked through by the rain and consequently left to dry next to a vent. "You're sure?" I tell him. "It doesn't look you were carrying anything on you. None of you do."
"I was in a hurry, and I'd forgotten my saddlebags," Gray grumbles good-naturedly. "Sue me."
"Left mine back at the theater," Drama Heart added. She's smirking now, and I don't like that look. "I was going after what I thought was a prize, and I don't mean the monetary kind."
"I always keep a few bits close by in case I need to buy a snack after a game," Turkey Bowl said, turning away to get his jacket. Now that I had a proper viewing angle, I could tell that like the others, he had a branding of his own: some sort of navy blue and turquoise sphere with a bird's head superimposed over it. What's with those things? "Not completely dry yet, but it'll have to do. Ready to look for this temporary fix of yours, Fairy?"
I get to my feet, which is all the answer they need.
When we returned to the store proper, there were still ponies going about their business. A few of those I saw when we entered were still busy shopping, and upon acknowledging us decided to ignore my presence. Briefly I wondered how long it would take for them to trust me enough for me to forego any escort, but I dismissed that thought. Getting home is my highest priority; being considered trustworthy would be nice, but I don't see the need to put in serious effort towards that end. It's not like I'll be seeing them again once I return home.
A glance out the windows tells me that it's still raining. I'm not hearing any thunder, so I guess the lightning decided to call it a day. For their sake, I won't argue.
As things stand, I'm 'zeroing' in on where my HUD pointed out the item of interest was located. Each aisle is clearly labeled as to its contents, but it's moot due to me not understanding a single thing written. Just because these Equestrians share a spoken language with some of those in Neo Arcadia, that doesn't mean that the written one matches up.
Gray's rattling off what's in each aisle as we walk through the store. "...Aisle Ten, pet supplies. Aisle Nine, toiletries and mane care products. Aisle Eight, basic office supplies. Aisle Seven, bread, hay and baked goods. Aisle Six, juices and soft drinks. Aisle Five, candy---"
"Hold it," I interrupt, stopping in my tracks at Aisle Five. "What I'm looking for is in this aisle."
Drama Heart snorts quietly. "You're sure you're not just a foal crafting an elaborate excuse to munch on something sugary?"
"I think I'd know if I was a quadruped," I retort in jest as I start down the aisle, the others following me. "And I've never had a gram of sugar in my life."
"Again," Gray states. I don't get how they're able to make their smiles audible. Just how many physical impossibilities are these ponies made of? "You have no idea what you're missing."
I scan the shelves to narrow down where the item I'm looking for is located. "Is sugar a major part of a pony's diet?"
"It's right up there alongside fruits and vegetables," Turkey Bowl explains. "We can safely eat meat too, but that tends to be more of an acquired taste, it doesn't have much nutritional value for us, and it has little flavor. Definitely not our first choice, so what little meat sold here is usually bought by griffons."
I might not know much about equines back home, but what little I do know points to them needing to be herbivores for the sake of their health. I was under the impression they couldn't eat meat at all. Not all things stay true between universes, apparently. And griffons...? Something to put a peg on for later.
Back to business: the item I'm searching for has been found. It's a bright yellow and orange bag with its text printed in an... explosive font, and is the only one of its kind on the shelf. In sharp contrast, every other product in this aisle numbers anywhere from five to fourteen. Quietly frustrated that I can't read it, I pick it up and show it to the ponies. "Mind telling me what this is supposed to be, please?"
Drama Heart's eyes are nearly the size of her entire head, which is saying something in light of how big they were before. "It's the holy grail of sugarholics everywhere," she breathes. "This is your 'fix'?"
Gray isn't as enthused as she reads what's on the front of the bag. "'Heartbreakers' fruit candy. An explosion of flavor in your mouth!' Fah. There are five servings in this bag, and each one alone contains twice the recommended daily dose of sugar. I feel sick just thinking about having one of these."
"You're sure this is what you're looking for?" Turkey Bowl asks doubtfully. "The way you were describing that 'Energen' stuff, it sounded like you were talking about some kind of mineral ore. That's the sort of thing you'd probably find at a jeweler's or other specialty shop, not a bog-standard grocery store."
"I can't claim to understand it either, you three," I said, no less unsure, "but my HUD's not lying and I can't afford to be picky right now. If this works out, I should be out of the danger zone. If not..." I close my eyes for a few seconds, miming an exhale before I start towards the checkouts. "Let's just get this paid for. I'm starting to feel tired."
The clerk who accepts Turkey Bowl's money is the same one who was laughing when I smacked my face on the doors. When he sees me towering over him he almost stumbles over himself trying to apologize, thinking I would be upset at him for it, but I wave off his attempts and let my new compatriots get down to the business of consumerism.
The 'business' of consumerism? Nice choice of words there, Leviathan.
After being given the candy shortly thereafter, I tear open the bag, withdraw one of the 'Heartbreakers' and raise it up towards my eyes for a closer look. It doesn't look anything like Energen, never mind the compressed E-Crystals I was used to: it's spherical, a bright green in color, and actually made a light clacking sound when I tapped it with a fingertip. As I'm being fed information on its makeup, I actually wonder if my scanners are actively misleading me. Why is this candy being singled out? Yes, it's too sugary even by these ponies' apparent standards, but that can hardly be the only reason. There's something strange about this. What is it about this package that makes my systems recognize it as a possible source of Energen?
Well, no choice but to take the plunge. I toss the Heartbreaker into my mouth as my associates--plus a cautious customer who was about to leave but became curious--look on. The candy resists for a split second before it's crushed between my teeth. I'm feeling a slight twinge telling me never do that again before it---
...
...
Strange. Why am I on eye level with the ponies again? I'm positive that I was standing... "Wha... what just happened?"
"Fairy, are you alright?" a frantic Drama Heart exclaims, her face rushing forward to occupy my vision. "You went cross-eyed and just fell over!"
Huh... that would explain the slight ache in my lower back. "...I did?" I think I surprised myself with the genuine astonishment in my voice. I look at the bag held tightly in my hand, feeling a little bit dazzled at what just one of the candies did. A quick scan tells me that there are another forty of them contained within, give or take.
"Did it work?" Gray, who is just as anxious as the theater owner, wants to know. Turkey Bowl doesn't say anything, but his visage is asking the same thing as they are.
I know I've probably met my quota for using this word today, but this makes absolutely zero sense. In the space of just a few hours, my personal universe has been overturned. Everything I know doesn't fit the standard mold anymore. This world is an enigma wrapped in a mystery at the core of a puzzle garnishing a quandary.
But no matter how ridiculous it is, neither the energy surge I'm feeling nor the meter flashing in the corner of my HUD are lying. As I'm escorted to a bench next to the exit to get my bearings, I'm forced to acknowledge that my systems haven't misled me after all.
I sit down on the bench and flash a relieved--and thankful--smile at those watching. "It worked."
With the rain still coming down, none of the ponies having umbrellas with them and refusing to get soaked again, the group had no choice but to wait out the weather inside the store. To all appearances that was fine with Leviathan, who was contenting herself with--to quote a term Gray's foals liked to use--"nomming" the Heartbreakers as they waited. Every now and then she'd twitch and close her eyes momentarily, but she reassured the group that it was just her body processing the newfound energy it was receiving.
At least now she knew better than to try and bite down on the blasted things right away. Never thought I'd see the day when somepony was stupid enough to try eating a jawbreaker like that. She's clearly intelligent, but she's also incredibly ignorant of a lot of things. Did they not have doors where she came from, or is there something that I'm missing?
Turkey Bowl was speaking to an aged earth pony who had taken an interest in the proceedings, filling her in on what the deal was with Leviathan. Gray had the feeling she knew her from somewhere, but couldn't quite place the face or the cutie mark. She dismissed it from her mind for now, instead refocusing on something Drama Heart was telling her. "...still having trouble comprehending this. I mean... ugh, this was more than I bargained for! I'd expected horror but wound up with sci-fi!"
"No reason why it couldn't be both," Gray suggested. "I've read 'Millions Umbra' before. It was a pretty solid mix."
"Which story was that now, and why haven't I read it yet?"
"It has to do with this robot stallion who was so obsessed with the works of assorted horror authors that it snapped and decided to reenact their works using live ponies as the victims." She smiled, momentarily lost in the throes of nostalgia. "That was the book that got me interested in the genre to start with, actually. Give it a read when you get the chance."
Drama began pacing back and forth. "Maybe another time," she declined as she went. "Gray, I really hate myself sometimes, you know that?"
"And what brought this on?" Gray wondered.
"What brought this on?" Drama whirled, getting in close and placing her hooves on the pegasus' shoulders. "Were you not paying attention to any of this? I almost got myself killed over a case of mistaken identity! I was going all nutso on someone that I thought lacked true thoughts and feelings, and completely ignored everything that said otherwise! I was so intent on claiming her for my collection that I let my tunnel vision lock itself in place!"
"So, are you going somewhere with this?" Gray asked, unphased. "This isn't the first time you've indulged in monomania. And would you calm down? You're making a bit of a scene here."
"But Gray---!"
"'But Gray' nothing," she interrupted the theater owner, placing a hoof over Drama's lips. "As my partner in the Royal Police used to tell me, take a chill pill. Get your act together and calm down. I can hear you just fine."
Drama took a deep breath, removing her hooves from Gray and backing off a step. "Sorry, I just... Gray, I almost got struck by lightning that I shouldn't have been anywhere near. You saw it happen: she had to throw me out of the way. I really shouldn't have made her do that. What if she hadn't been immune to lightning? She would've thrown her life away just for my own selfishness. That's... that's not sitting right with me."
Gray, who hadn't yet been able to do anything to get her mane in order after it had dried off, shoved an errant lock out of her eyes. "And it's a good thing that you realized that, but if you'd learned your lesson the last time this happened, you wouldn't need to keep experiencing these guilt trips."
Leviathan swallowed another Heartbreaker, jerking ever so slightly. "Not to encourage her behavior," she said, "but if she hadn't forced me to run, my hopes for survival would have been that much bleaker. If you don't mind a suggestion? Cut her a bit of slack."
"That's what I'm doing," Gray replied without facing her directly. "Any other time, I'd be assailing her with words not fit for public conversation. I'm only staying calm because everything's working out so far."
"Well, if she's really that dead-set on wanting forgiveness..." Leviathan started to say, waiting until Drama was watching her before continuing, "...then we can talk things over back at her theater after I'm finished with these. There's something I might need a unicorn's..." She grimaced. "...magic to help me deal with before I can buckle down and get myself repaired."
"Wait, at the theater?" Drama asked. "Why there?"
"Because there are only two places in this city that I'm familiar with, and one of them's home to a..." Leviathan glanced at Gray. "...Help me out here. Is there a specific term for a young female pony?"
"Filly."
"Thank you." The 'Reploid' turned her eyes back to Drama. "A filly with a phobia."
"Ooh, right," Drama muttered, wincing. "Loudest scream I've heard in my life, and it wasn't the 'good' kind of scream either."
"I told you that dangling that plaster-cast goblin in her face was a bad idea," Gray snarked. "Though in your defense, you didn't know her well at the time."
"All the same, that was still boneheaded of me. I keep forgetting that not everypony's into the surreal and scary."
"Water under the bridge, Sally. Water under the bridge. And Fairy?" Gray turned towards the Reploid close by. "Technically, Ebony's not a filly anymore. She's old enough under Equestrian law that she can be called a 'mare' by now."
"Whichever." Another Heartbreaker disappears. "Though personally, I don't think 'mare with a phobia' is quite as... does 'catchy' work for this?"
The pegasus shrugged. "Probably not, but that's just semantics. Anyway, I noticed you were frowning when we were walking past the aisles. Why was that?"
A hint of disgust crossed Leviathan's face. Gray chose to think that it wasn't due to how much of the package she had gone through by now. "I realized that our spoken languages are the same, but our written languages aren't. I couldn't understand a single thing the signs were saying."
"Something else that's going to have to be worked out..." Drama's ears turned towards the windows, followed closely by the rest of her head: the inclement weather was dying down. "Rain's finally letting up. Looks like as good a time as any. We can talk about the language thing after we're done later."
Turkey Bowl approached them, having finished his conversation with the other customer. "Sounds like the situation's well in hoof now, so I'm going to go home. Nothing else is really keeping me around, so..."
"Take care then, Mr. Bowl," Drama said with a slightly smug smile, the expression more in line with her stage persona. "I expect to see you when the theater re-opens for business, whenever that may be."
A short laugh. "Count on it!"
Gray stretched a little as Turkey Bowl walked past her out the door. "I might as well head out too. I want to get things cleared up with Mortar & Son before Ebony starts wondering what's taking me so long. See you later, Sally." She turned to trot towards the exit---
"The towel stays where it belongs, you hobo!" the store's manager shouted in the distance. "Put that back!"
"Oops," Gray muttered with a blush, doing a 180 and hurrying towards the back. "Forgot that I was still wearing it."
...
"Assuming that she's a friend of yours," Leviathan commented dryly as she stood up, "is that behavior normal for her?"
"I don't know if there are any cats where you're from, but some like to joke that she wasn't born a pony," Drama Heart replied, a mild dusting of affection in her voice. She pulled open the door with her magic and led her newfound acquaintance outside. "She's funny that way. Come on. Let's go."
...
Behind them, a middle-aged earth pony stared at the spot where the group had just been, adjusting her glasses and rubbing her chin as she pondered what Turkey Bowl had just told her.
Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Bank: 19% full. Estimate minimum of 70 hours until replenishment of main supply is required, accounting for self-repair.
Oh, this is much better. As the humans say, a full stomach sure feels good.
I finished off the entire bag just a few moments ago while en route to Drama Heart's theater. I was going to toss the empty bag in a bin set up alongside the road, but my patron suggested that I hold on to it. "I saw that look on your face in there," she'd said. "You're obviously wondering what's in those things that's able to keep you fed, am I right? The manufacturer's address is on the bag. Save it, and once your grasp of the written word's satisfactory, you can write to them and find out."
Something I can do as a 'side mission' of sorts, but that can wait until later. Right now, I'm in a much better mood than I was in when I first arrived here.
...Has it really been only a few hours at most? It feels like it's been longer.
Now that my Energen levels are topped off, I can put my auto-repair to better use. I'm setting it to work on itself for now so that it can operate at full strength later; better 100% than the 87% that my earlier diagnostics gave me. After my business with Drama is done, I can move on to my power generators, ceratanium frame and synthskin, and backup solar extractor in that order. Mending everything else will go much more smoothly once those are fixed. I suspect it will take a week and a half, two weeks at most before I'm back at peak efficiency.
Oh, it would certainly go several times faster if I had, say, a capsule that I could hook myself to and rest in, but that's a total no-go. As one human I worked with once liked to say, it's better to see how you can get the most mileage out of the cards you're dealt than it is to complain about the unfairness of your opponent's hand. And I'm not going to let life itself get one up on me if I have anything to say about it, so auto-repair it is.
...Now I'm starting to wish that I had a deck in storage---focus, Leviathan, FOCUS.
Ahem...
The cart that brought me to the theater was gone by the time the two of us got back... no real surprise there. I can't blame those two for not wanting to be involved. I consider for a second as to whether or not to find some way to apologize to them later for scaring them before placing it at the back of my mind.
A grin blossoms on my guide's face. "Welcome to Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears!" Drama announces full blast before abruptly dialing down the volume, having caught my wince before she got any farther. "My theater, my pride and joy, and most importantly my home."
I look up at the theater. It's a three-story building by the ponies' standards, though closer to two and a half by mine. If Drama's initial ostentatious behavior was a sign of anything, though, the ceilings in this one are likely to be considerably higher than those at Gray's apartment. Easily enough to comfortably accommodate someone of my height. There's a message on the marquee overhead, but my illiteracy isn't helping me any here. That's probably a "Closed" sign in the window, I'm guessing...?
There's a faint click from the door, interrupting my observations. "Follow me," Drama says as she enters, magically keeping the door held open for me. It stays open long enough for me to follow her, after which it shuts and locks.
There are a few lights on in the lobby, but not enough to provide a full load of details, and because of that most of the room is shrouded in shadows. At the very least, I can tell that the room's in an L-shape...? Wait, scratch that: it's a C-shape. There's a hallway just past a counter and some sort of strange machine... and guarding the passage is a stool with a maroon-stained, iron-masked pony skeleton on it, a sign clutched between its hooves. I scowl at this. Charming.
I probably could just use my alternate vision mode if I want to, but it was designed for seeing in the deepest parts of the ocean. I'd just as soon save it for its intended use, so I'm not seeing a point to misusing it just to fulfill idle curiosity. If I want to examine the room badly enough, I'll just ask Drama to turn on the lights.
Closer to where we are is a pair of doors with plates of pony silhouettes nailed to them, most likely restrooms. Drama leads me past them to a third door that's well out of the way. "The hall up to my residence is through here," she explains as she unlocks it and leads me through, a few translucent globes lighting up on their own just inside. "Careful on the steps."
It doesn't take long to see what she means. The stairs are clearly intended for pony usage and none other, and my first attempt at traversing them normally results in me stumbling and almost face-planting. I'm not sure what annoys me the most: the steps being this narrow, or my boots' heels actually being a liability for once. There's a railing, but it's at a height I can't comfortably reach without stooping down. In addition, the ceiling in this hall is too low for me to consider any wall jumping. So much for 'high' hopes.
Not seeing an alternative, I sigh and turn to face the wall. Going up sideways like this awkward, but since there's just enough space for my feet this way, at least I'm not making myself look foolish by clawing my way up the steps on all fours. As it is, this is something that's staying off my record when I return home. Fefnir must never learn of this.
Drama giggles softly when she sees me ascend this way. "If it helps, I don't like these stairs much either. The problem is that I can't fix that without remodeling this part of the building, and I'm still working my way through a mortgage as it is."
"What drove you to buy this place, then?" I ask as I reach the top.
"I had a good thing going in Baltimare," Drama answers, leading me to another stairway past a bend in the hallway. "But I felt I could accumulate a larger fanbase here in Manehattan, so I moved. This building's far outside the theater district, but it was the only one I could find that suited my needs. I have enough after mortgage payments for daily living, keeping everything in working order and paying my part-timer..." She shakes her head. "...and not enough for any serious work."
Another sideways trip. "Hm. Plus side, you're still happy with your circumstances..."
Drama giggles again at this, doing some sort of weird dance as she waits for me to reach her. "But of course! Horrifying those who have a high tolerance for fright brings me joy! The screams, the beating hearts, the applause, the relieved smiles, the sincere compliments for a job well done... I just can't get enough!"
Her enthusiasm would probably be infectious if I didn't find it so unnerving. I can name one or two Mutos Reploids with a similar mindset, and it's just as intimidating coming from her as it is from them. I suppose I should count myself fortunate that she chose to go into entertainment instead of joining any sort of military force.
A few feet further on is another door, which Drama also unlocks to let me through. Well, here goes... something. Let's see if she lives up to her words.
Drama Heart never received much company, let alone talking machines from another world, so she usually didn't do much cleaning beyond a bit of dusting. As such, her living room was on the messy side: a rug kicked off-center, a couch cushion leaning against the wall, bread crumbs from a midnight snack scattered about, a doily in desperate need of washing...
Self-consciously, she moved the rug back to its proper place before gesturing at the discarded cushion. Leviathan got the hint, dropping it in the middle of the floor and sitting on it while Drama claimed the couch's remaining seat. "So, Fairy. I'm not against the idea of me making amends, but what do you need the help of a unicorn for?"
"I told you at the store about the negligence exercised regarding my maintenance, and the confrontation at that cesspool of a lab," Leviathan told her, tapping one of her knees as she spoke. "The wounds from my first skirmish against Omega were never treated, and as a result there's substantial dust and grime in my frame." She frowned. "Aside from me hating being dirty on principle, the extra weight and interference is not doing my motor control any favors." She slowly tightened her hand into a fist, then opened it again. "If I can remove all the debris, that would make my movements feel less strenuous and go a long way towards helping me recover."
"What about the frame itself, though?" Drama asked, concerned. "Wouldn't you need someone to fix that, too? If it was left alone, all of that grime would just re-accumulate over time."
Leviathan's helmet was blocking her eyebrows from view, depriving Drama of some context, but she told herself that the Reploid's smile was meant to be reassuring. "It isn't a problem. My body has a built-in auto-repair system that draws on raw materials from my Energen supply. Given enough time, it can restore me to full functionality from that alone. I doubt it's too different from a pony's ability to heal from injuries." Her smile disappeared. "There's one thing I need to make sure of, first."
"What's that?"
"I want to be able to say that I trust you to do this, Drama. The problem is that what you've done so far doesn't put you in a very good light. Thinking of me as a prize of some kind, chasing me for several blocks and trying to capture me, manhandling me like I'm someone's docile pet..." Leviathan grimaced. "I'm still having a little trouble believing that you pulled a one-eighty just because I threw you out of the way of some lightning. How am I supposed to know that you won't just turn around and start treating me as one of your props?"
Judging a book by its cover. Was that deliberate, or...? The unicorn's eyes narrowed. "I realize I'm close-minded at times. I'll be the first to admit that," Drama informed her, her voice the most serious it had been that day. Her tail twitched as she failed to suppress her agitation at Leviathan's complaint. "But I'm not so short-sighted as to think that you didn't know exactly what you were doing when you threw me. Only someone with a working brain and a working heart would rescue a fanatic, and one they'd just met at that, from certain death."
"Nice to know that you are admitting it," Leviathan said, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"I don't want you thinking that I'm ungrateful or anything. If we never meet again after today, I don't want the bad example I almost set to be your only memory of me." Drama climbed down off the couch and brought herself below eye level. Anxiously, she pressed her front hooves together and hoped with all her heart that she passed whatever test the Reploid was having her take. "Let me do this for you, please. Okay?"
I'm not going to lie and say that I'm fully convinced. It might just be a by-product of me being built and raised in an unforgiving world, but I haven't lasted as long as I did by being too trusting.
And therein lies the problem: these two worlds are not the same. I'm not dealing with stalwart warriors, blood-crazed maniacs, or sociopathic soldiers anymore. These are common civilians that are simply taking life one day at a time. Not everyone is going to have an ulterior motive for the things they do. Not everything is going to have multiple layers of secrecy on top of it: sometimes, things really are that simple and to the point, just like a razor. That's not to say that no one here has closets packed to the ceiling with skeletons (a poor choice of words, I know), but so far everybody I've met has worn their heart on their metaphorical sleeves.
Here's hoping it stays that way.
I don't want to delay this any more than I have to, and if I rejected Drama's plea I'd have to waste time trying to find another unicorn who can treat me. Old instincts are hard to break, but maybe just this once... "Alright. Just so long as you're willing to follow my instructions to the letter, you understand?" I told her sternly. "I'm serious. I don't want to repair additional damage just because you thought deviating was a good idea."
Wow. I've heard of smiles lighting up a room, but this one could have brightened a street on a sunny day. She's doing that strange little dance again, too. "Thank you, Fairy! Thank you thank you thank you!" Drama whirled and galloped out of the room, almost knocking over a coat rack in her haste. "Let me get my cleaning supplies! Where's my dust rags? Buckets? Magnifying glass? Everything?!"
I'm not sure I quite got through to her. She's a little too enthusiastic about this. I realize that I can probably be called a hypocrite for this in light of my obsession, but I don't care. Drama Heart's just plain nuts.
But in this case, that might be a good thing.
Said unicorn returns a few minutes later just as I'd finished removing my boots, carrying an assortment of items in her magic. Most of them are recognizable cleaning items, including a bucket full of soapy water, but there are also a few odds and ends that I can't figure out. "What's that right there?" I ask, pointing at a large black disc with a label in the center.
In response, Drama directs my attention to a boxy device at the side of the room. I'd seen it when I first entered, but there were more pressing matters to deal with. Curiously, I watch as with a touch of her magic, a tiny green bulb on the side lights up. A see-through lid on the top opens, allowing her to place the disc in the center. A tiny needle is placed along the disc's edge...
The soft pulling of strings catches my hearing as a melody floats through the room. My head slowly turns towards my patron, my mouth trying to say something but my voice not cooperating. I can feel one of my eyebrows twitching inside my helmet.
"What?" Drama tilts her head, her smile halfway towards befuddled. "You don't expect me to carry out a menial task without my music, do you?"
"Erh. Let's just get to work," I let myself groan as I begin detaching my arm guards. Why, why, why won't this day just ever-loving end already? And why, in the name of everything X stands for, is she singing along? Is she seriously intending to do this while she works?
...
That's it. I give up. I mentally throw my hands in the air and decide that my time is better spent directing this loony unicorn. This day can hardly get any worse for me, so I might as well do what I agreed to do and hope that the fallout doesn't drag me down in flames. "Alright. First off, take a look at this seam here. You'll need that magnifying glass to see it, so..."
After returning to her apartment and stashing the leftover food in the family icebox---no matter how much her parents liked to call it a refrigerator---Ebony had been indecisive about what to do while she waited for her mother to come home. Many of her usual activities were curtailed in light of two factors: the storm outside, and the fact that she was temporarily grounded from leaving the building without her mother's say-so while the rest of the family was out of town visiting Aunt Harshwhinny. Not for the first time, she regretted embarrassing her best friend at her graduation party by taste-testing the cake before it was meant to be cut.
Good friends were becoming increasingly difficult to find, especially in Manehattan, so she resolved to visit her at the earliest opportunity and apologize in person.
After a few minutes of watching the rain out the window, Ebony had finally just shrugged, grabbed a few decks of cards and set about playing a solitaire variation that one of her siblings had showed her how to play once. After the first game, she'd decided some background music was in order and placed Sapphire Shores' most recent album on the family's record player. Catchy as the songs were, it didn't take long for her to start humming along, and she scarcely even noticed the rain letting up.
"...it just happened... you walked in my door, now I don't want to be alone no more---"
A loud 'thud' made Ebony jump and startled her into dropping her cards. She turned towards the source of the noise, snorting a little in irritation when she realized it was exactly who she thought it was. "For crying out loud, Mom!" she shouted at the closed window and the slightly dazed pegasus past it, even as she used her magic to unlock it and let her in. "The front door exists for a reason!"
"---I've done it, told you how I feel, I just hope this time that our love is real---"
...
...
"...So, yes. In summary," Gray finished explaining as she held a cold washcloth to her forehead, "apparently what we both thought was a mannequin or doll turned out to be an alien robot from another world with thoughts and feelings like ours. Oh, and Heartbreakers candy acts as her source of nourishment. Because reasons."
Ebony tilted her head slightly, worried. "Shouldn't you go see the doctor?"
"I didn't hit my head that hard, Ebony," Gray told her, cross. "I'm not concussed."
Ebony cringed at the tone. "Sorry, sorry. Just... it's difficult to believe, you know?"
Her mother sighed, chiding herself for taking that tone. "Don't worry about it, dear. Anyway, I paid a quick visit to Mortar & Son after I left the store to let them know what the deal was. They had just as hard a time believing it as you did, but I don't think they're going to stir up a fuss over it." She looked out the window in the general direction of the theater. "I can't say the same for anypony who were eyewitnesses to the chase. I'm guessing there's going to be a journalist or five from the Manehattan Minutes showing up at Sally's door in the next few days... or a Royal Police officer. Either or."
Ebony shivered, the newfound knowledge that there was a genuine alien in their midst--and a robot on top of that--doing nothing to slake her fear. "Still hoping I never see it again, Mom."
Gray reached over and gently patted her daughter's foreleg with her free hoof. "Understandable, dear. Though may I offer a suggestion on the off-chance that you do see her again?" At Ebony's nod, she continued. "Close your eyes and pretend you're talking to another pony. Justified your fear may be, lumping her in with the residents of boutiques city-wide is doing her a serious disservice. I know if somepony treated me as an actual ghost and not as a mare named for one, my own feelings would be hurt. She took it in good stride the first time, but who knows what really goes on in her mind?"
A blink as Ebony finally caught on to the pronoun usage. "Wait, 'she'?"
"Fairy's genderless, technically." Gray turned aside for a few seconds to run some more cold water through her washcloth, re-applying it to her forehead afterwards. "Hard to think of a machine that isn't, and the topic never came up. Buuut, she had the voice of a mare, so as far as I'm concerned she's a mare."
"Kyahahahaha!"
"Could you hold still, please? You almost kicked me!"
"Ee-hee... sorry, Drama, I c-can't help it! I just got a mental image of one of my fellow Guardians, and... and... 'pretty boy', kyahahahahaha!"
"Do you want to clean this outside-world filth off the floor? I said hold still!"
"...I see," Ebony reluctantly said. "I'll try not to flip out, it's just..." The floor became somewhat more interesting. "I don't have to tell you to be patient with me, right? This isn't the sort of adjustment I can make right off the bat."
Gray gave her a quick reassuring nuzzle. "You say that as if I ever needed reminded of it. I'm behind you every step of the way, Ebony."
It was a common thing for any of Gray Ghost's foals to hear from their mother, and the truthfulness of it never changed. She had promised them when they were younger that she would be there for them as long as they still needed her, and as far as everypony was concerned, her words were a guarantee. Ebony smiled at her mother, happy to have that vow reaffirmed; she had a hunch that she would be seeing Leviathan again regardless of her wishes, and she felt that she would need all the help she could get.
As if to lend its own support, a black shadow rubbed up against them both: Echo, the family's Mane Coon and perpetual attention seeker, who had been elsewhere in the apartment minding its own business while the day's events were taking place. Ebony giggled as the cat's tail tickled her chin. "I know, I know, you like us too, now stop doing that!" she protested, reaching over to pet it with one hoof as she hugged her mother with the other.
"Four foals to be proud of, a wonderful husband, and a beautiful cat." Gray returned the embrace with her wing the best that she could. "For all of everypony's quirks, I wouldn't trade my life for anythi---" She blushed as her stomach rumbled in mid-sentence. "...Crudbunnies. With all this going on, I'd forgotten I hadn't finished dinner."
The unexpected bathos provoked laughter from Ebony. Gray rolled her eyes at her reaction, but let it go with a smile as she made tracks for the refrigerator.
Auto-repair System: 100%.
Motor Control: 92%.
Well, now. That was a chore and a half, but I'd say it ended well.
Removing everything that didn't belong inside my frame was a task that went well into the evening. Some of the grime had been packed pretty well in there, requiring Drama Heart to utilize her magic to pull it out before cleansing those areas with soap and water. More of it was caked onto my wiring, endoskeleton and my coolant circulation system, requiring finesse and delicacy. Happily, none of the worse debris had reached any high-priority areas, such as my power generators or the shell housing my CPU. I imagine if anything did, there'd be warnings in my HUD left, right, and center.
I was concerned at first that Drama would slip up somehow and accidentally cut off my connections to my limbs, or something worse, and because of that concern I couldn't hold back any visible nervousness. Thankfully, aside from one incident where I nearly kicked her in the face--and I'm fully willing to admit that it was partially my fault--her first attempt at performing what amounted to Reploid surgery under my guidance went excellently. She was incredibly thorough: not a trace of dust, grit, or worse remained by the time my frame was sealed shut for good.
It's mind-boggling that she accomplished all of this while singing and dancing around the room, pausing only every other minute to get a good look at what it was she was dealing with before resuming her performance. With her unicorn magic, she has a level of dexterity and control that matches--and at times surpasses--any technician I've ever met. As an example, she'd been wiping off the inside of my left hand when the 'record' she'd been playing came to an end. She selected more music to play and, while keeping her back turned towards me, flawlessly scrubbed the interior to a shine. I almost passed out again just from that.
Had this been Neo Arcadia, and had Dr. Weil and Omega never existed, I would've gotten someone to teach her proper machine maintenance with the intent of hiring her for the Deep Sea Squadron's support staff. This... I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself, but she did fantastic work. When I asked her how she'd obtained her level of skill, she told me that she makes and maintains much of her inventory herself, be they backgrounds, puppets, or props: of course she would have had plenty of practice across her years in the business dealing with tricky details. I don't know anything about the performing arts, but it still makes some sense.
I'm alone in the room right now, and I can hear Drama Heart muttering to herself in the kitchen. After my frame was closed up, she took a look at what I can only presume was a clock and squeaked in surprise. She immediately stopped her music and put the record away, then scooped up her cleaning supplies--including a bucket containing everything that was cleared out--and galloped out of the apartment like someone was chasing her. She returned a few minutes later with said bucket emptied, put her supplies away, and scrambled to make herself a meal while completely ignoring me.
She could've at least let me say 'thank you', but it looks like I'll have to wait. In the meantime as I finish re-equipping my armor, I do another quick diagnostic check. My auto-repair system is back at full power, which is nice, but what I really wanted to find out was the state of my motor control. I'd quietly expected there to still be minor damage that didn't have anything to do with the grime, and I was right, but it's not as bad as I'd feared. That won't take long to fix.
That's a ways down the list, though. Priorities haven't changed: my power generators come first.
Power Output: 10% of capacity. Cannot exceed 35% at the present time.
As I'd told the ponies earlier, the energy boost I received from that lightning strike didn't last long. Being fed may have resolved my hunger for now, but it hasn't done anything for my level of alertness. The ability to push through it notwithstanding, I've been feeling tired all day. I'll be much happier once I'm back at full power and won't have to constantly fight off the desire to collapse. With that thought I focus my auto-repair's efforts on the power generators, setting them to its highest priority.
I rotate on my borrowed cushion to look out the window. Now that I'm not on the run, I can take a moment to look out and get a look--however incomplete--at the world I'm in now. It's been long enough that the sun is beginning to set behind the cityscape, and I wonder to myself if the same thing is transpiring back home. I shake my head, chuckling mirthlessly as the sun slowly sinks out of sight, turning the horizon and the smattering of remaining clouds red-orange. It's a sight that I don't stop to appreciate often enough, and I wish I had the time back home to do so.
A sliver of white-gray catches my eyes from another angle: the moon is beginning its ascent. As I watch it rise and ignore the sounds of Drama eating from the next room...
...Dramatic eating? I wonder if that's possible...
Don't get distracted, Fairy.
Anyway, I note to myself that this world's local sun and moon are moving slightly faster than normal. I suppose not all inhabitable worlds are meant to meet the exact same criteria as Earth, but all the same it bothers me. It felt warm when I was outside, though not too hot. Do they have the same 24-hour days here, or is there...
...something that...
...I...I am...
...
"Drama?" I call, my voice breaking as I push myself away from the window. This isn't right, this is just plain not right."Drama Heart?"
My patron pokes her head out of her kitchen. "What is it? I'm trying to eat. Was there something I missed?"
"Please tell me, because I need to hear this." Why am I seeing what I'm seeing? Why can't I get my voice under control? "Please tell me that the sight of a giant pony's head on the moon is normal for this world!"
"Been around for centuries longer than the city," Drama deadpans. "Why? Is it not like that where you're from?"
"I wouldn't be on edge like this if it was," I answer with more heat than I'd wanted as I point outside. That's supposed to be Fefnir's thing, not mine. "The moon has never had anything permanent on it other than craters in its entire existence!"
Seriously. It's one thing to be transported to a world and interact with a species that looks nothing like what you're used to seeing, but having their very visage stamped in the sky every night for all to see? The story behind this had better be convincing, because right now I am this close to eschewing my stance on logic.
"Okay, okay. If it makes you feel better, yes: the sight of a giant pony's head on the moon is normal for this world," Drama tells me in a very dry tone. "Now, I'm sure your freakouts are important, but kindly put a clamp on them until I'm done eating. Okay, dearie? I have not eaten anything in the past nine hours, and I am very hungry." With nothing more to say, she withdraws back into the kitchen and continues her meal.
A part of me wants to remove my helmet and smack my head on the wall. I didn't get an immediate answer to my admittedly hasty inquiry, and on top of that, Drama's not cut out for hospitality. For the sake of retaining some measure of dignity I restrain myself from doing so, though. I've embarrassed myself enough for both the day and my lifetime.
I sigh to myself as I rest my forehead in my hand, and this time I'm not sure if I'm imitating the sound or if its the genuine article. I'm supposed to be better than this. Why am I letting myself get thrown for a loop each time magic gets thrown at me? And why am I making a big deal out of a handful of dark spots on the moon that coincidentally resemble a unicorn's head?
...They are coincidental, right?
Well, whether they are or not, it doesn't matter. I have to calm myself down. I must calm myself down. And this isn't just for the sake of my dignity: it's for the sake of my sanity. I turn towards the pile of records that were set aside when the cleaning was finished. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Drama. Do you have any objections if I get some more music going? I need something to take the edge off before I go crazy."
"Sure!" Drama calls back, her tone telling me that she was no stranger to 'crazy'. "That's what it's there for~!"
At least she's okay with that. I get up to examine the records. I can't read any of the labels on their jackets, and some of the pictures on them are ones I find disturbing: one is an artist's rendition of a pony skeleton in a dark robe playing a stringed instrument at night. It's making me think of that first song Drama played, so I shake my head. That song might've fit her, but not me.
The one at the bottom of the pile I don't recognize, as it wasn't one of those that Drama had gotten to before her work was done. There wasn't much to its cover, consisting solely of a photographed pony whose image was layered with shades of blue. Hopefully the music on this will sound better than most of those that my patron was playing.
Not to say that they were all bad, as there was a diamond here and there. It's just that the style of music that Drama seems to prefer doesn't appeal to me as much as some might think it should.
I carefully remove the record from its jacket and place it where it's supposed to go, mindful enough to follow the same procedure that I witnessed Drama using. Gently placing the needle on the edge, I sit back down and wait for it to begin...
/-/-/-/-/-/
/-/-/-/-/-/
Drama's ears picked up the melody in the living room first, and the 'thump' of something hitting the floor about seventy seconds later. Not finished with her meal, she levitated her salad next to her and got up to see what the matter was.
Leviathan was collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, eyes closed and lips set in an almost beatific smile. Part of Drama wondered if she had died somehow after the music began, so to satisfy that morbid curiosity she got in close and positioned an ear next to her guest's head. She withdrew a few seconds later: faint enough that nearly all ponies wouldn't hear it unless they were actively searching for it, Fairy's systems were still active and humming along. Drama stepped back and whickered a little, eyes casting towards the discarded record jacket. Which means she let herself get absorbed into the music and fell asleep because of it. Silly robot.
The music had been a going-away present from her elderly grandfather shortly before she had left Baltimare. It was intended as a gag gift, but he had always had a weird idea of what was intended to be funny. Drama actually didn't mind the music too much, despite it not being something she typically listened to everyday, so she kept the record on hoof for whenever she felt like listening to something other than a traditional orchestra. And of course out of all of them, this was what she picked to ease her mind.
Well, can't let her stay there like that, can I?
After returning the cushion to its proper place, Drama carefully lifted Leviathan with her magic and deposited her gently on the couch, positioning her so that her helmet's fins jutted outward. She wasn't quite small enough to fit in it, given that her boots were sticking out over the hoofrest, but it would have to do.
As Drama smiled softly, she decided to leave the music to play itself out and instead trotted for her bedroom, continuing to munch on her salad along the way. Maybe there was a spare blanket or two in her closet that she could use to cover up the sleeping Reploid. No point in cleaning up that dust only to bring it all back, she figured.
I'm starting to think I might have underestimated what her world was like. She had made it clear that her life was a tense and violent one, so I had my suspicions, but I didn't expect her to zonk out like this just listening to a single song. Or to become unsettled just from seeing the state of the moon. This might be the first real peace that Leviathan has experienced in a very long time.
...
...
In a world that only she could see, Leviathan floated atop an endless ocean beneath an equally eternal starry sky, gently moving to and fro with the waves as a school of fish swam beneath her. Her smile was just as blissful as it was in reality, and would remain so for the duration of her stay.
Shortly before Leviathan's maintenance was finished...
Decades past, Manehattan became known in some circles of Equestria as "The City That Never Sleeps". Even in Canterlot, most of the city's activity would die down the closer one got to midnight. Not here. For better or for worse, there was always something going on at all hours of day.
There were some stores that were open all the time (aside from Hearth's Warming), rotating staff as needed. The owners of other facilities found that they were better suited for operating at night, deciding to keep their doors open only during that period. Certain residents would decide for themselves that nighttime was the best time to not just be active, but to fit their definition of 'alive'. In any event, Manehattan was a shining beacon that could be seen for miles in all directions at night. Years later, the Pillars of Equestria would discover that the magnitude of this brightness was such that it served to drive the Pony of Shadows away.
All of this also meant that regardless of the average pony's hopes and dreams, Manehattan was a city of opportunity. And for some, "opportunity" was synonymous with "crime". Ponies who found that they could get away with very little in places like Fillydelphia or Canterlot, particularly with Shining Armor instilling a newfound effectiveness in the latter's Guard regiment, would gravitate instead towards Equestria's most populous city. Manehattan's Royal Police--themselves an offshoot of the Guard--tried, they really did, but they couldn't be everywhere at once. It was only their insistence that they could handle it themselves, stated as such in a letter that went straight to the castle, that prevented Princess Celestia from intervening personally.
So it was that for all of the city's brightness, not everything was awash in radiance.
Hidden away from prying eyes deep within the city's commercial districts was the Lonely Heart Nightclub, a dimly lit establishment that catered to those looking for entertainment, love and drinks in all the wrong places. Rundown but nonetheless steadfast in its determination to keep going, the club was frequented by those who had secrets to hide and desires to fulfill. The drinks were fine, but the food was average at best and the entertainment left much to be desired; very rarely they were able to get somepony who was figurative magic with music, but most days clients were left with the dregs.
Still, for all of its faults, the nightclub's customers rated it higher than the Broken Heart Nightclub elsewhere in the district; that facility was so haphazardly run that it was a wonder it was still standing. Yes, the owner of the Lonely Heart was much better than the owner of the Broken Heart.
One of the club's few pluses was the amount of privacy it afforded its customers. There was a specific corner booth lit by the flickering dregs of an illumination crystal that hadn't been recharged in months. Seated below an autographed and framed poster of a singer who had once performed at the club were two earth ponies and a unicorn. The latter was clothed in a burgundy dress that had seen much better days, much like her face; only the well-crafted watch around one leg gave away her well-to-do status.
The other two were much more nondescript, the sort that nopony could pick out of a crowd based on their faces alone, and both wore dark uniforms with the intent of concealing their Cutie Marks; the differences between them was that the younger one was lithe and athletic, while the elder was well-muscled and inclined to take his time with everything. "...and imagine my surprise when I hear that somepony wanted to hire us," the older thief was saying to the mare, the halfway decent saxophonist on-stage and the crowd watching him making enough noise to overshadow their words. "Normally we just steal from whomever we want and be done with it. What do you want us for?"
The mare responded by levitating a year-old newspaper clipping from within her dress and placing it on the table for both hoodlums to see. A photograph of the Pyre of Fears greeted them, with an additional picture of its proprietor in full Salamandra regalia beneath it. The news article briefly talked about the theater, its owner's intentions, and when the then-new shows would be expected to begin. "You probably know of Drama Heart," the mare hissed with enough venom to put down a hydra. "Or Flaming Salamandra, case depending. I want you. To rob. Her. Blind."
"Whoa-ho," the younger thief murmured, amused. "Rags To Riches of all ponies wants us to pull a heist? I thought you didn't have a vindictive bone in your body."
The mare did not take kindly to this. "And my name is Alexandrite, weasel. If you're going to be wanting any bits from this, then shut your mouth, don't insult me, and let me explain."
"Please do so," the older thief politely requested. "I'm curious."
"Thank you, Bastion. At least one of you has some manners." Alexandrite contemplated the drink that was set before her, then pushed it aside without sipping from it. "There are several of us in the theater district that have been losing money this past year. The performances we host have gotten rave reviews, there has not been anypony embezzling funds, and yet our finances have been slowly dwindling. Measures have been taken multiple times to clean up the theater, straighten things out across the board, make everything more appealing, diversify our acts... nothing's working. Each month has seen an increasing number of empty seats. If nothing's done soon to fix that, we'll have to..." Her face soured. "...lower our prices if we want to fill the seats again."
"Celestia forbid that the rich get even richer," the younger thief cracked. "If you held up a mirror, would you see a unicorn or the pile of money behind her first? I'm asking for a friend."
"Iron Gates, shut it," Bastion warned, nudging him. He gestured at the increasingly incensed Alexandrite. "Continue."
This tempered the unicorn's mood just a little, and she resumed speaking. "We didn't pay too much attention to little Miss Heart at first. A performer based in a neighborhood away from the district, specializing in an alienating premise... what could she possibly do to threaten our standing? Within the past few weeks we've finally discovered the answer to that. Ponies that would normally be present at our shows are absent because little Miss Heart's own plays are put on at the same time, and at two-thirds the cost.
"Those I've directed to determine the root cause have provided proof. There are over eighty different ponies with very distinct manestyles, coat colors, Cutie Marks or builds that--prior to Drama Heart's arrival in Manehattan--I've come to easily recognize during my years in the business. Each new show that hits the stage, all of those individuals would turn up at least once, sometimes all in the same day, and often for repeat performances." Ironically, cold fury burned in Alexandrite's eyes. "Of those eighty, all but six have disappeared from our district and have started congregating at the Pyre. I have not seen any of those seventy-four at my theater in the past seven months, and my associates haven't been noticing them at any of their establishments either. Instead, they've found some new fun by deliberately shortening their lifespans each time Salamandra pulls their strings."
"If we carry off this heist, one small slip-up will mean that this will get traced back to you," Bastion told her. "We will not be able to sell the stolen goods, whether here or elsewhere in Equestria. There's always going to be at least one investigator who will be persistent enough to get to the bottom of this, and any intelligent being who reads the Minutes will put two and two together. Anything we steal will have to be destroyed to prevent the links between us from being discovered."
"Which means that at the end of the night, the sum total of it all's going to come straight from your purse," Iron Gates said with a smug smirk. "Stinks to be you, huh? Still want to hire us?"
"Beyond a shadow of a doubt, weasel."
Gates' left eyebrow raised. "Ooh. Didn't dawdle there, did you? You really must hate this mare."
The unicorn didn't take the obvious bait he was leaving. "Provided you're as good as you claim to be, then I'll win no matter what Drama does in the aftermath. If she tries to track down and rescue her props, she will have to waste precious time collaborating with the Royal Police and close her theater for the duration... and destroying them will guarantee that her actions will fail. If she decides that what's lost is lost and tries to move on, she will have to re-purchase all of the materials she'll need to replenish her supplies. And that will force her to raise her prices to compensate, either driving her down to equal footing with us or causing her customers to return to me. Any of these are fine with me, so long as I'm back on top. And who would believe that Lady Alexandrite, congenial socialite and patron of the arts, would stoop so low as to hire common thieves to do her dirty work?"
Alexandrite met the thieves' eyes squarely. "Weasel, honey badger, it doesn't matter to me how you do it. Teach Flaming Salamandra a lesson in humility that no amount of amnesia will let her forget. Take everything except her life and the roof over her head. I want her to live to see her burn in the flames of her own name."
"A tall order, but still doable," Bastion said agreeably. "Though if you want our gang to be finished by dawn, it'll cost you extra. Weight and mass reduction crystals aren't cheap to recharge."
Disgust bounced around the mare's face like a silver sphere in a pinball machine, but the desire for efficiency gave in. Sixty bits levitated themselves into the saddlebags the thief wore. "Done. Just do it. And remember that you'd better give me my money's worth, or I'll pretend we'd never met when I set the Police on your trail."
Iron Gates patted one of the mare's hooves, and a wave of revulsion washed over her at the contact. "Just relax. It's us," he purred, climbing down out of his seat to leave.
"What my insensitive partner's trying to say is that we'll get the job done," Bastion said, shaking his head slowly in a way that indicated that this was the closest Alexandrite would get to an apology for the stallion's behavior. "Our eyes are on the target. Until dawn." He got up and followed his partner out of the nightclub.
The mare waited until the both of them were gone before burying her face in her hooves. "Uggggh," she grumbled, her voice muffled. "The sooner I can put this disgusting business behind me, the---"
Her mouth abruptly shut. Agonizingly slowly, she shifted her gaze down towards her left foreleg... and the empty space where her watch had rested. She recalled the thief patting her hoof just before he left, and she snarled. Forget the Police. If those lowlifes can't put words to actions and drive Salamandra out of business, I will take the cost of my new watch out of their hides.
"I'm guessing you're not even going to try to tally up how much Salamandra's inventory costs," Bastion deadpanned near-inaudibly to Gates as they slipped through the encroaching darkness back to their base of operations.
"How long have you known me?" Gates spoke, rolling his eyes. "We'll just give her a random number and call it good. She won't know the difference. Seriously, do I look like the kind of stallion who can do complex math in my head?"
Bastion said nothing, letting his unimpressed glare do the talking for him.
"Okay, fine. I'm just feeling lazy today," Gates acquiesced. "But don't lie to me and say that you feel like running the numbers. And you know, what I don't understand is why we don't just destroy everything right there on site. We'll be using the good stuff to put her out for the duration, so what's the harm?"
"The 'harm' involves waking up everypony and everything on the block. That theater isn't the only building on the block that serves as a home," Bastion stated, his tone of voice brooking no argument.
Which didn't stop Gates from arguing anyway. "So we keep the windows closed. Simplest solution."
"That's not going to keep others from hearing us," Bastion retorted, irritated. "Any sort of loud noise done loudly and/or consistently enough in the middle of the night will drive others to investigate, even if it means just telling whoever's in there to be quiet. No one with half a brain is going to believe that Salamandra made that racket just by tripping down the stairs. And even without any of this, we're supposed to stay stealthy. I don't trust Alexandrite to give us a break in the event of us going against the deal."
Gates scoffed, glaring sideways at nothing. "You're no fun sometimes, boss."
"Being 'no fun' is what's keeping us out of prison," was Bastion's reply. "Now be quiet and keep going. We have work to do."
The two of them continued on their way in silence. Reluctantly, in Gates' case, seeing as how he couldn't think of a way to get the last word in their argument.
Hours later...
Bliss. There is no other word to describe how I'm feeling right now. Just pure, unadulterated bliss.
The chorus and gentle melody that lulled me to sleep ended... how long ago? I don't really know. It feels like one's sense of time just melts away here. I wish I had found this place sooner. Hundreds, thousands of miles of nothing but ocean, with who-knows-how-many tiny white dots visible from my position in the galaxy, with many a school of fish and other sea life as my only company... for an amphibious Reploid like myself, it's the equivalent of paradise.
Have I ever taken the time to just stare up at the night sky, watching the endless array of stars crawl across the endless expanse? Was I really too busy working, cleaning, fighting to appreciate their power, their light reaching the world from that far away? It's staggering. I feel sorry for the humans who have to live sealed away from sights like these. At the very least I had the chance to see them in light of my jobs taking me away from Neo Arcadia proper. Humanity doesn't have that luxury.
...Except for Dr. Ciel, now that I think about it. Does she ever go outside at night to see the stars, or does she stay sequestered in the Resistance Base 24/7 to keep herself safe? I sort of wonder.
The ocean's surface beneath me is the greatest bed I've ever slept on. No matter how comfortable they design capsules to be, there's just no comparison. It feels like I've been enveloped in the embrace of a close friend that I've never had. Like I was reunited with a part of myself that I'd forgotten existed, making myself whole again. As I'm thinking this, a gentle breeze blows around me and shifts the waves a little.
A fish jumps over me just to see if it can. It's not of a type I recognize, and I wonder if this is one of those that went extinct in the wake of the old wars. All of that fighting, and all of that damage done to the world... if only those that were fighting were capable of appreciating the beauty of nature, the tranquility of life just living like it is supposed to, the things I'm seeing now. If they had stopped for just a few minutes to meditate on these things, maybe the world would be a different place today...?
There have been questions asked as to whether or not Reploids can dream, given how different our "brains" are from those of humans. If you are viewing my memories, there's your answer right there.
...
An anomaly is disturbing my rest. There's something about the situation that's not right. With some effort I shift positions, and my surroundings fade away, taking all of my enjoyment with them...
...
I open my eyes, and my vision comes into focus. I'm staring... right at the back of a couch? ...Oh. Alright, I understand what happened. Drama Heart must have believed I looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor and decided to move me. Unnecessary, but I suppose it's the thought that counts.
Nice to know that she covered me up, too. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as bad as it had been earlier, true, but I still don't like the idea of more dust getting through my damaged frame. It makes me wonder if finding a cloak or coat I can wear over my armor is feasible, just in case I have to move about in public in the next few days. I'd prefer not to, but then again I've had to do a lot of things I don't like this past day. What's one more?
I'm staying where I am for the moment. I like the idea of sleeping some more and getting my power output as high as is allowable, but I was disturbed from my rest for a reason. I'm not moving until I can determine from my position exactly what it is.
Power Output: 19% of capacity. Cannot exceed 37.7% at the present time.
Good. Auto-repair's working as expected. Part of what takes so long to fix the generators is that they're fairly sensitive equipment compared to the rest of my body, and they're required to keep running at all times. Shutting down the generators outside of a capsule would mean that my auto-repair would stop working, Energen or no Energen, so I have no choice in the ma---
I stop my ruminations, listening carefully. There are faint scratching noises somewhere beneath where I'm laying. Sounds of something or other being moved are reaching me. I doubt mice would make that much noise, so unless Drama decided to go downstairs and just didn't switch on the lights...
Carefully and quietly I push the blankets off myself, roll sideways and get to my feet. Silently I rue a certain decision I'd made a few years prior to Zero's revival: back then Phantom had offered to give the other Guardians, myself included, some stealth training on the side. "Just in case," he'd said. However we'd each turned him down for our own reasons: Fefnir's preferred battle style was loud and flashy, Harpuia didn't see the need in light of his aerial expertise, and I didn't feel that my aquatic leanings and battle attire--read: high-heeled boots--lent themselves well to covert operations. I'm starting to regret that a little bit now, so I'm hoping as I progress through the hallway that I don't make so much noise that it tips off those down below.
Locating Drama's quarters wasn't hard, as her door was left open. The unicorn was still there, sound asleep in what for humans would be a twin-sized bed, but is apparently full-sized from her species' perspective. I know that Gray made it look easy, but I don't think ponies' skeletal structures should allow enough flexibility for them to sleep like this, should they? "Drama?" I call gently. "Drama Heart?"
I'm not getting any response other than a quiet snoring. I don't want to have to raise my voice, so I get up close to the bed before trying again. "Drama Heart. Salamandra? I'm hearing something downstairs."
There's still no indication that she heard me. I reach down and tap one of her hooves a few times, which accomplishes nothing. I huff a little, a hand on my chin. Either she's a heavy sleeper, or...
...!
The curtains on her window are shifting some, and a warm breeze is circulating through the room. Frowning, I turn to investigate. Between the breeze and the noises downstairs, that adds up to...
Called it. As soon as I opened the curtain, I noticed the circular hole--about the same size as a pony's hoof--that had been perfectly cut into the window at about the same height Drama was resting at. There's really no reason why she should have this here, and taking into account everything I've detected in the minute or two since I woke up, the implications are looking increasingly less hopeful.
Please tell me this isn't what I think it will be...
I pull Drama's blanket off of her and stoop down to her level, activating my Deep Sea vision mode. This was meant to help me navigate in the ocean's darkest depths, and as such the light entering the room through the curtain is almost blinding... but if my fears are true, I'd rather not tip anyone off by switching on the lights. I shade my eyes from Manehattan's luminescence as I search for anything out of the ordinary, anything that wasn't there when we last interacted face-to-face...
I abruptly deactivate Deep Sea and pull the blanket back up to Drama's chin, muttering something that I would not have said in Copy X's presence. Right there on the side of her neck, perfectly in line with the hole in the window, is a tiny speck of dried blood. I'm not seeing any evidence in the room that it happened other than the damaged window, but my instincts are still telling me that she was injected with some kind of sedative. How I don't know, but it's the only reason I can think of for why Drama isn't responding to my inquiries.
It's what I thought it would be. Blast it.
I sigh softly. It was my hope that I could rest through the night and work on my power generators some more, get them somewhere close to 50% by sunrise. I hate having my hopes dashed.
My eyes close for a moment. When they open again, my Frost Javelin is in my right hand.
Well, if I can't sleep, I'm just going to have to wile away the hours. Playing 'hero' must be a fun way to pass the time...
It's one thing to decide that you want to be a hero in the style of someone you both hate and respect. It's something else to decide that you want to do it without invoking collateral damage.
Before doing anything else, I'd silently gone back to the living room to retrieve the blankets. It took a little bit of work, but I was able to tie them around my sides to conceal the worst of my injuries. I realize I would probably look strange to most people if they saw me, but right now cleanliness and practicality are more important than my pride.
Javelin back in hand, I'm currently considering my options. My plans as they stand are hindered by my lack of knowledge regarding whoever's burglarizing the theater. Who or what makes up their numbers? Unicorns? Pegasi? 'Normal' ponies, or whatever it is they're called? I don't think I ever asked about that... Anyway, my point is that without knowing about them or what exactly they can do, I'm going into this completely blind.
I make a quick inquiry as to the state of my ice manipulation, taking into account my replenished Energen supply and nearly-restored motor control. I get my systems' response, plus a minor bonus, in the time it takes to blink.
Ice Manipulation: 43%. Main system undamaged. Low-medium efficiency due to reduced power output.
Frost Javelin: 98%. Cursory damage will not affect usage. Systems nominal.
Coolant Levels: 84.2%.
Essentially, what it means is that I won't be throwing multiple ice dragons or packs of mines around anytime soon. Still a definite improvement over earlier, and I won't need those techniques for dealing with thieves. Once my power's back to full, my ice manipulation should reach that level as well, and that will be important if I ever need to fight any serious threats before I go home.
Let's face it, it'll probably end up happening. The stories I alluded to earlier would, more often than not, have those removed from their homes risking their lives against all manner of dastardly and wretched beings. Whenever they weren't accidentally romancing those around them, anyway... and so help me if someone gets a crush on me here, I'm going to scream. I am not kidding.
My coolant supply's gone up a little bit, too. Normally I would have to have it replenished from an outside source at the very rare times I ever lost any, usually someplace like the refueling stations found at each squadron's main base. Seeing it restore itself on its own is a surprise, and one that I'll gladly welcome.
...
Just what was in that Heartbreakers candy? My coolant wasn't capable of self-restoration before I consumed those sugar bombs, so why in... ...No, not right now. I'll give time to these thoughts later.
Now that I'm up to date on my capabilities, I can devise a means of stopping the thieves appropriately without sending the building crashing down around me. As stated earlier, I don't have any idea what these ponies can do. Just about anything can happen when dealing with the unknown.
An eager smile splits my face as a plan coalesces in my mind. But as things stand, I doubt they're prepared for something quite like me, either.
I carefully pad over to the exit. Instead of unlocking it to make my way downstairs, I place my hand on the door handle and channel my ice manipulation through my palm. A thin coating of ice envelops the handle and wraps around its latch, jamming the door inside its frame. Just a little stopgap measure to prevent easy entry; it'll dissolve into nothingness in about ten minutes or so, but that should be more than enough time to finish my work in the theater proper.
Now, I doubt that I can actually corral everyone without being seen, but I'll worry about that issue when it becomes important. For now, let's see if they can hear me exiting out the living room window.
Work for the Midnight Castle gang at the Pyre was going about as smoothly as their heists usually went.
A few hours before, Bastion and Iron Gates had gathered the other members of their gang together and informed them of how their meeting with Alexandrite turned out. All of them expressed surprise that one of the theater district's most well-known figures would hire someone like them, but in the end they shrugged and decided they couldn't be picky. They hadn't fallen on hard times yet, but every bit counted in their chosen profession.
The group, which counted among themselves three earth ponies, two pegasi, and two unicorns, hashed out a plan immediately. It was decided that they would go into hiding along the rooftops, keeping an eye on the Pyre and singling out which room was the puppet master's bedroom. After making certain that Salamandra was asleep, one of the unicorns would carve a hole in the window and inject her with a sleeping potion of the group's own make, ensuring that she would stay asleep for as long as it took the Midnight Castles to get the job done. Once that was accomplished, they would pick the lock on the theater's back door and roam free throughout the entire building.
Thus far there had been no problems. Salamandra had twitched when the sedative was injected into her, her eyes opening a fraction, but they drifted shut a few seconds later and she did not react to their presence. Once everypony was inside the theater, the group had set to work grabbing everything they could comfortably carry and using their cache of weight/mass reduction crystals on anything they couldn't, piling the stolen goods on the theater's own cart for transport in addition to their own. At that point it would just be a matter of getting everything back to their hideout without being sighted--or in the worst-case scenario, caught--by the Royal Police's night patrols, and given their years of experience in the field that wasn't going to be an issue.
The stage curtains. An ugly plaster goblin with a two-meter neck. The "guardian skeleton" in the lobby. The popcorn machine. Some cans of dark red paint in a storage closet. The mirror in Salamandra's dressing room. Two crates worth of records. A can of fake spiders. A minotaur-shaped dummy with a trench coat stained by the aforementioned paint. The desk in Salamandra's office, along with everything it contained. The restrooms' supply of toilet paper. It didn't matter what it was: the thieves were taking it. They were told to steal everything that could be stolen, and so they would.
They had just started to remove the lobby's lighting when one of the pegasi's ears twitched. "Boss?" she called, turning her head up and towards her right.
"Something wrong, Knight?" Bastion's voice returned from the manager's office.
"Are we positive that Salamandra's out for the entire night?"
One of the unicorns could be heard huffing in irritation from the auditorium. "If you're telling us that my potion is lacking, Knight..."
"All I did was ask a question," 'Knight' complained. "And you might want to clean out your ears, Bridge. I just heard something creak upstairs."
An annoyed Gates entered the lobby, a random orange scarf draped across his back. "You're right. I'm hearing the sound of bits making a clean getaway if you don't pick up your hooves and get back to work."
"I'm being serious here, boss," Knight protested. "There's---"
"Monnney money money money money," Gates interrupted, waving one of his hooves around and rolling his eyes. "Jinglin' jinglin' jinglin' janglin' out of your saddlebags and into ours. Psssh. Have you ever seen any of Bridge's concoctions not drop their recipients like flies? Like at all?"
Bastion exited the office as he spoke, a framed painting of the Everfree Forest on his back. "There's a first time for everything, so can the attitude. I heard the noise too, but I was under the assumption that it was the building settling."
"You don't seriously believe that there's somepony moving around that shouldn't be there?" Gates asked, frowning. "Come on. If Sally up there was cohabiting with somepony, we'd know it by now. Why are you both acting so worried?"
"A better question would be 'why is Iron Gates a complete jerk'?" the team's second pegasus responded as she dropped the lights she'd collected into a sack. "Just because you have seniority doesn't mean you're allowed to be rude."
"And just because you're the youngest one in the group doesn't mean you're allowed to be a hypocrite, Gargoyle," Gates shot back. "The grown-ups are talking here."
"In that case, why are you still running your mouth?" 'Gargoyle' snarked, sniggering at what she thought was a joke.
"If you're hearing weird things, then I'm experiencing weird things," the group's third earth pony piped up, poking his head into the lobby and interrupting Gates' impolite reply before it could leave his mouth. "I can't get the back door open. A little help back here?"
"Have you tried using your hooves like everypony else, Barricade?" Gates uttered through gritted teeth. "It's not that difficult."
"Wouldn't be calling you if it worked," came the reply. "I tried to unlock it with the same method I used before, plus a few that I hadn't. It's not opening. It's like something's caught the latch and it ain't letting go."
"Check on what's keeping him, Gates," Bastion ordered as he turned and re-entered Salamandra's office, intending to place another crystal on a file cabinet. "I'll be along in a moment. Bridge? Moat? You're with him. Knight, Gargoyle, pick up your pace."
Gargoyle mock-saluted him. "You're the boss, boss," she said as she continued her tasks, snapping her tail in Gates' general direction as he left.
...
Gates growled to himself as he and Barricade trotted through the theater towards the back door. Moat, who had been raiding the ticket booth for anything not nailed down and had remained silent throughout the exchange, and Bridge, who had been in the middle of ripping up some of the auditorium's seats, joined him on the way. "Can't open a door, they don't know when to shut up... feels like I'm leading a parade of idiots, complete with baton."
"Why is Gargoyle even part of the team, anyway?" Bridge wondered. "She's always been too much of a loose cannon."
"Because she's a loose cannon who's good at what she does." Gates scowled, looking for an excuse to kick something. "No matter how much I'd like for her to spontaneously lose her wings in mid-flight over the Crystaller Building."
The others winced at his vicious words, but didn't comment on them. There was nothing more to be said from then on until they got to the back door.
...
When they reached it, Gates had intended to just easily open the door and lord that minor victory over Barricade. That plan was quickly foiled when he discovered that it was as the fellow thief had said: it wasn't opening, and an attempt at unlocking it met with the same degree of success. "Bridge," he ordered, backing away from the door. "See if you can find out what's causing this."
The unicorn did as instructed, pulling out a magnifying glass as she got up close to the door handle. Her horn shone with a blue aura as she used a spell to enhance her vision further, running it first along the handle before moving on to the door's edge to check the latch. "Looks like it's... frozen over?" Bridge stated incredulously as she withdrew the glass, her magic shutting off. "But it's too warm out for ice."
"Ice, huh?" Gates murmured dryly. "And me without my Hypermane heat vision. Out of the way, you three. I'm going to give this door a good kick."
"Didn't Bastion tell us to exercise stealth?" Barricade reminded him. "Orders from the client, I me---"
A loud noise akin to canvas tearing reached them through the door, and Gates drew in a sharp breath. That sounds like...! "Forget stealth! We've got company!" he snapped, pivoting and bucking at the door handle with all his strength. Only a hasty dodge prevented Bridge from getting accidentally struck.
Icy pieces flew through the air off the latch, shattered by the force of the kick as the door swung violently open. Gates turned to charge through the door and subdue whoever it was that decided to interfere with them---
---and stopped himself before he could commit to the action, gawking in disbelief. Slowly, he walked into the moonlight that pervaded the alley in order to convince himself that what he was seeing was real. The others followed, no less stunned.
The wheels of both carts were frozen fast to the ground, engulfed as they were in ice. Ice, several inches worth despite it being the middle of summer. The tarps that the group had been using to conceal what they'd loaded had been torn free and ripped apart, leaving the valuables in plain sight. Even taking into account the reduction crystals at their disposal and the combined magic power of both unicorns, there was no way the group would be able to steal everything on the property as Alexandrite had wanted them to. Not without it being blatantly obvious to the Royal Police and any night-loving residents.
What grabbed his attention immediately after was the most oddly-dressed biped Gates had ever seen in his life (not that he'd seen many, granted). It was standing with its back towards the door, a futuristic pole arm straight out of some comic book or other held tightly in one hand. It didn't react to their presence at first, but when it did, it slowly turned its head to face them over its shoulder and gave them a face-splitting grin that flat-out oozed smugness.
Gates didn't know what he hated more: that this doll-thing decided to butt in on their heist, that he didn't know where it came from, or that he was receiving that smile from someone other than his reflection for a change. Either way he was mad, and he made that anger clear with the calmness of his tone. "Moat? Bridge?" he hissed. "Tear it apart."
Credit where credit is due: the unicorns certainly tried, and with a clever tactic that would have worked with most others at that. Bridge utilized her magic to immobilize the thing's limbs, while Moat attempted to yank its pole arm out of its grip with the intent of skewering it through the torso. What they didn't count on was the doll's minotaur-esque strength. No matter how much they pried, its grip was unrelenting and the resistance it offered overwhelming. After a short time they were forced to shut off their magic and catch their breath.
All the while, its grin didn't relax. "Nice try!" it declared, pivoting and swinging its pole arm at them. Gates and Barricade were fast enough to evade the strike by jumping back through the door, but the weapon's broad side caught the still-recovering unicorns and golfed them both into a nearby dumpster.
Gates growled and reached for the twin combat knives he kept concealed in his sleeve. “Barricade, get everyone out here,” he ordered. “I'll stall it!” Without waiting for the thief to follow the order, he bit down on the handle of one knife and wrapped his hoof around the other before springing at the would-be hero.
I jump away from the slash-happy pony as it attacks, deflecting its opening strikes. Behind him, his companion hurries back into the theater with the intent of bringing the rest of the gang to bear.
As I silently agree to play the thief's game, I congratulate myself on a job well done. After slipping out the living room window and wall-sliding my way down, I'd taken a peek into the alley to see if anybody (anypony, come on already!) was back there. Sure enough, one of the thieves was transferring items from within the building onto a pair of carts, one of which was adorned with Drama Heart's personal symbol. A few of the things on those carts I didn't think they were capable of carrying solo, at least not without strain. Magic. Just like everything else I've been seeing here.
The pony had placed the goods beneath tarps that were covering both carts, then went back inside for more. I'd waited until the door closed, then hurried over and applied my ice manipulation towards locking it. Knowing that I only had a limited amount of time to work with after I heard the pony initially struggling with the door, I then took the time to freeze each individual wheel on the carts to the ground. I'd just finished that task when I heard a group of them talking and trying to get the door open. With nothing more to do but destroy any attempt at hiding what they'd done from those on the streets, I fired the Javelin's blade across the alley to slice open the tarps on both carts with one strike.
Now, the smile I gave the thieves when they entered the alley... I don't know just what it was that possessed me to do that. I can't decide if it was because I'd ruined their night's work and felt like being smug, or if I was just saying in my own way that a destructive wave was about to crash down on them. Either way, it had the desired effect: the unicorns tried to steal the Javelin to no avail, I swatted them aside with the weapon's blunt side to keep myself from killing them, and the most aggressive of the bunch went on the attack.
The pony's fast, far faster than equines have a right to be; I actually have to put in a bit of effort at evasion as we dance around the alley. He's smart, too: he keeps trying to slash and stab at the battle damage that the blankets aren't hiding, recognizing my obvious weak points. A total fool would have tried to attack me without any sort of strategy.
That's not to say that I'm having any trouble holding him off, even as tired as I am. He might be fast, but Harpuia—never mind Zero—eclipses him. I've won my share of sparring matches against the pretty boy with my land disadvantage taken into account. It should come as no surprise that I'm able to either block or turn aside the majority of the thief's strikes, and the few that reach my synthskin aren't able to pierce the ceratanium layer beneath it. Those do little more than shove me backward a little, something which is easily remedied.
The sounds of hoof and wing beats reach my ears: the thief's reinforcements are incoming. Good. Means I can take them all out at once. “Bastion! Barricade!” the thief calls, shaking those who hadn't seen me yet out of their initial surprise. “Corner this witch! Knight, air cover! Gargoyle, see if you can wake up our dumpster divers! That thing's not going to stop all of us at once!”
After my fourth battle against Zero at the Temple of Ice, I realized that he was incorporating attacks from those he'd fought before into his personal style. Just looking over the footage while I was recovering, I recognized explosive flaming bullets akin to Fefnir's Buster shots, as well as a rising slash similar to that used by the Cutting Shadow Squadron's own Phoenix Magnion. I decided that if he was going to steal our attacks, I might as well give him a taste of his own medicine.
After recovering, I spent the bulk of my free time over the next seven-plus weeks training myself to use the technique and making sure the Javelin was capable of pulling it off. Sadly, mere hours after I was satisfied with it, Omega crash-landed and “introduced” himself to me before I could charge it up. My race towards his and Zero's battle arena didn't allow me any opportunity to use it then, either.
But now? I think as I allow myself to get cornered by the thieves' tactics. It's time to do something I haven't gotten to do in months: enjoy myself.
It's about time, Gates complained to himself as Bastion and Barricade closed in, delivering a set of rapid-fire hoof strikes that forced the doll-thing to back away. This monstrosity is just way too evasive for one-on-one.
He waited for it to block a particularly powerful blow from Bastion, which shoved it against the far end of the alley, then fished his last combat knife from his uniform and whipped it at the doll's left eye. The pole arm's blade interposed itself in the knife's flight path, deflecting it, but this left it open to a flurry of twisting mid-air hoof strikes from Knight. As he retrieved the knife, Gates admitted to himself that the Wonderbolt wannabe was finally pulling her weight; she hadn't done much to distinguish herself from the rest of the crew up until then, so he'd assumed that she was overly generic. Turns out she's actually halfway decent in a fight. Who'd have thought?
There were some harsh words exchanged at the dumpster as Gargoyle succeeded in rousing Bridge and Moat. The second pegasus joined Knight in her mid-air assault, and the doll began spinning its weapon to hold off the duo and create a killing field of sorts, preventing anypony from getting close enough to attack physically. Gates wasn't too worried: if the unicorns immobilized the doll again, the rest of them could go to town on it and smash it apart. That ridiculously sturdy frame it possessed couldn't protect it forever, and he was looking forward to gloating at it as its life left its eyes. At that point they could figure out what to do about salvaging the heist that had been spoiled...
...But none of that is doing anything to answer why that thing's weapon is glowing!
The pole arm had gained a blue-white aura that lit up the immediate vicinity, almost making it hurt to look at directly as it continued to spin, accompanied by a noise that sounded halfway between a hum and a hiss. If its owner was aiming to blind them it was well on its way, judging from Moat's disgruntled groan, but that wasn't going to stop them... and if it was gathering any sort of magic for projectile attacks, the unicorns should have at least picked up on it--
With a grunt the doll went airborne, covering almost twice its own height in a vertical leap to take it above the entire gang. It had stopped spinning its weapon and instead swung it over its head, and instinctively Gates realized that it was going for a definitive killing blow towards one of them. Even as Bastion ordered everyone to scatter, he was already getting as much horizontal distance as the confines of the alley and the nearby carts would allow, believing that avoiding the blade itself would be enough.
...
It wasn't.
The Frost Javelin descended, striking the pavement as Leviathan landed. With a howl that rivaled the windigos of ages past, a shockwave of freezing air and energy blasted all seven ponies at once, enveloping them in its heart-chilling grip and yanking Gates' knife away from him. Particles rapidly coalesced, forming thick layers of ice that smothered those that were ground-bound, ensnaring them all in a flash. The edge of the wave washed against the back of Drama Heart's cart, flash-freezing one corner ineffectually before the blast dissipated.
1.2 seconds after the Javelin unleashed its power, the fight was over.
Both pegasi blinked, and in the time it took to open their eyes again they were trapped against the theater's exterior by the same ice, wondering how and why they were shivering from both cold and pain. The both of them had a natural resistance to the elements, but "resistance" did not directly translate to "immunity", and even as they wondered what happened they knew they were going to be feeling this one for a while.
Knight blinked a few times at what she perceived was a non-sequitur. She realized that the doll they were attacking was standing before them at eye-level. "What..."
"I wasn't fighting at full strength, pegasi, and I was holding back to boot. Had that charged slash been delivered with all my power... well. I shouldn't have to tell you what would have happened, I hope?"
Next to Knight, Gargoyle had gained some of her coherency back. Not all of it, but some. "Why..."
"'Why?'" the doll parroted, leaning in with a smile. "Because I live here. I thought it was obvious."
Both ponies' ears drooped. "Well, double c-crud and a half," Gargoyle muttered, dismayed. "We thought Salamandra l-lived alone."
"At least six hours behind the times there, ponies." The doll folded its arms, its pole arm still held at the ready. "Now, then. We've got a few minutes before that ice melts. You're going to answer a few questions for me. Honestly."
"W-why should we---" Knight tried to say...
...only to be interrupted. "And you will answer my questions. Unless you want to go without your wings for the rest of your life?"
The both of them paled, regaining full alertness on the spot. "You... you wouldn't!" Gargoyle protested, the snark and bravado she'd been showing all evening leaving her.
"I wouldn't?" The doll shoved its face into hers. "The recent times have not been kind to me. I've been decimated, dirtied, exploded by a dying monster, been screamed at by a filly, surprised by a gray ghost, had my beliefs upturned, treated like an inanimate object, been chased, been hugged, and forced to protect my home away from home when all I wanted to do was to recover my strength in peace. You caught me in the middle of a bad fortnight, pegasi. I will only play nice if you let me."
"...Knight? What d-do you think we should do?" Gargoyle asked worriedly, deferring to the only other pony in the alley who was still conscious and coherent. She wanted to keep her wings, and she didn't want to think about how high the medical bills would be if their enemy... removed them. She valued her freedom too, but what was freedom without flight?
"...Well, I always knew our careers as thieves would b-be ending sooner or l-later..." Knight admitted, shivering. "If I was Iron Gates, I'd be protesting and trying to escape every step of the way. E-easy for him to do. He d-doesn't have the pride and joy of all pegasi to lose. M-might as well go to jail with our d-dignity intact." She looked the doll in the eyes. "What do y-you want to know?"
The doll smiled. She relaxed her hold on her pole arm just enough to allow them a bit of extra breathing room. "First things first: why did you decide to rob the Pyre? Was it just because you thought it was a good idea at the time, or is there some underlying reason for it?..."
I suspect that I'll be hating myself in the morning.
Plus side: the charged Javelin slash was a complete success. I was able to incapacitate the entire gang at once with a single attack, and I held back enough power to ensure that they would survive the experience, albeit with some chills. Chew on that, Zero.
Another plus side: the two pegasi provided me with plenty of details. Who they were, why they were stealing from the Pyre, and most importantly who sent them. I should have enough time and energy to act on that last one before morning, provided their patron's location isn't too far away.
Minus side: ...That manic grin was one thing, but why in the world did I threaten to remove those ponies' wings? I know that I'm tired, but all of the crankiness in the world doesn't excuse that. I don't think I was that bad even during the worst days of Copy X's regime.
...Was I?
I have to remind myself that these are flesh-and-blood entities I'm dealing with, not Reploids. Not machines. When machines lose parts or have them forcibly removed by an outside source, they can be easily repaired in most cases. Fixed. Good as new. Humans, and these ponies by extension, don't have that luxury. Sure, humans can get cybernetic replacements now, but losing limbs for them is still a traumatic experience. Whatever they do after that, they would never be the same. Some damage can never be fixed.
Whether I was this bad in Neo Arcadia or not, what I told those pegasi still makes me feel sick. I'm having this nagging feeling I should be apologizing to them. Yes yes, I know, it's silly to say "I'm sorry" to people who are trying to kill me. But what right do I, a total stranger to their lands and laws, have to threaten them like that? It's the sort of thing that I could be tried and thrown in prison for, for all I know. And that's if any judges they have are feeling lenient.
You can bet that would put a serious crimp in my plans to return home. Sure, I could probably break out of whatever prison they have, but that wouldn't leave any...pony that would otherwise help me with a good impression of me. I need to prove myself better than that. I have an ideal, a memory that I want to live up to now. When the time finally comes for me to reunite with X in Cyberspace, whenever that may be, I want to be able to tell him to his face that I did my absolute best to live as a protector. A true Guardian to the last.
(Though I still make no apologies for wanting to destroy Zero. That's my idea of a good time, and nothing short of his defeat will take that away from me. One day, I'm going to give it to him. Don't believe me? Just watch.)
So I have one more thing to add to my personal checklist: get copies of the local laws so that I don't offend the authorities on accident.
And that means not rising to Iron Gates' bait and freezing him again just to make him shut up. From the moment I freed him from the ice and plopped the gang into one of their own nets up until now, he's been spouting threats, wisecracks, and everything in-between. It's getting annoying, and I'm already tired as is just from trying to mentally censor him. Some of the things he's saying I wouldn't repeat in Fefnir's presence, let alone a child's.
Come on, I thought Gargoyle told me that the local authorities did patrol the streets at ni---...Wait, there they are. Black and white vests over light armor, official-looking caps, towing an enclosed carriage with what I'm hoping has the word "Police" on the side? That seems to match the description. I wave them down when they get close enough, getting their attention. "Sirs? Sirs!"
The carriage pulls over close by, both ponies surprised at my appearance but behaving like the professionals they're supposed to be. "Is something the..." one of the officers starts to say, but stops and does a double-take when he sees the net I'm carrying. "...matter? What the..."
"Got a package for you," I greeted them as I gestured at the angry, humiliated, or otherwise resigned thieves within the net.
Both of the officers are clearly befuddled. I would be too, if I'd witnessed someone carrying around seven people at once with minimal effort. The first officer is the one who speaks. "Um... thanks?"
The other one is able to get a good look at who is in the net, whistling. "The Midnight Castle gang? We've been trying to snag these bums for over a year now! How'd you catch them?"
"I caught them red-handed..." Oops, they're looking confused. Let's fix that. "Excuse me. I caught them red-hooved trying to empty out that theater back there," I said, gesturing at the Pyre down the block. I set the net down where all of us can keep our eyes on it. "The owner's been letting me stay there until I can regain my footing, so to speak. Figured I'd do something nice for her while I was here."
"What sort of ridiculous coincidence..." Iron Gates muttered from within the net. Again, doesn't he ever shut up? Or possess any sort of respect for authority, for that matter?
The largest thief--Bastion, according to what Knight said--seems to agree with me, as disgruntled as he is. "Gates. For the love of Celestia. Stop. Talking."
As Officer No. 2 taps an earpiece he's wearing and speaks into it quietly (so they have rudimentary radios, good to know), Officer No. 1 visibly calms down a little. He's still nervous around me, but he's letting his professionalism guide him. Good. “Guessing there's a story behind this. Do you have time tonight to share your statements?..."
...
While we waited for additional officers to arrive to pick up the thieves--seeing as how this carriage doesn't have enough room for all seven--I told them of everything that had transpired from the moment I'd woken up from my dream. When they expressed doubt over my ice manipulation, I brought out the Frost Javelin and froze a few centimeters worth of sidewalk as a visual aid. This was enough to satisfy them both before we moved on.
When I got to the topic of my interrogation, the both of them gave me these incredibly stern looks. This prompts me to turn my attention to the net. Gates and one of the unicorns are in a position to glare at me, while both pegasi look downtrodden. I gather my thoughts and consider what I am about to do... then astonished all of those present when I knelt on one knee before the thieves. "Knight? Gargoyle? Please forgive me."
I'm not showing it outwardly, but gobsmacked pony faces are a laugh riot. "For...forgive you?" Gargoyle blurts out, incredulous. "Why?"
"It's not the interrogation itself that I want to apologize for," I tell them with complete seriousness. "It's what I threatened you with. I forgot that ponies cannot replace their limbs as easily as machines can, and I crossed a line because of it. I should not have threatened you with the loss of your wings. For that, I am truly sorry."
Most would expect the thieves to reject my apology outright, or set their jaws and ignore me. For the umpteenth time in as many hours, the local ponies are instead choosing to surprise me again. "What?" Knight exclaims, mouth falling open. "You're a machine? But you're---"
"---making my own decisions, yes," I finish for her. I stand up as another police carriage approaches, this one towed by three ponies and having enough space within for the entire gang.
"...By Celestia," Gargoyle whispers. "We got crushed by the unholy love child of the Termarenator and the Masked Matter-horn."
"Heh. You're such a nerd," Gates utters, prompting a mutter of "Why do I even bother?" from Bastion and confirming that there was references there that I wasn't getting.
Well, that could have gone a lot worse. They didn't vocally accept my apology, but at least they didn't get angry over it. The shrug I'm seeing from the police is telling me that I should count that as a win.
...
As I'm finishing giving the officers my statements, the new arrivals are pulling the thieves out of the net one by one, depriving them of their remaining tools, reading them their rights, and cuffing them (with rings around the unicorns' horns that I was told would limit their magic usage). We didn't have any rights-reading for Reploids back in Neo Arcadia due to Copy X being Copy X, and while the human authorities had something similar for their own race, I'd never been around to hear any of it. It's nice to get a basic idea of how this works.
While four of the officers are leading the captured gang into the back of the carriage, the one who'd been paying the most attention to my account is awkwardly shaking my hand with his hoof. I muse to myself that his personal brand looks an awful lot like some kind of camera. "Your methods could use plenty of work, but the Manehattan Royal Police still owes you for capturing the Midnight Castles," he's saying. "Thank you for your assistance, citizen."
"I'm not a citizen, sir," I tell him, letting go. "I'm not even native to this world, let alone this city."
"Didn't think so," he answers, taking it in stride. "I think we'd know if we'd seen a biped quite like you before. How long do you plan to stay in Manehattan, Ms. Leviathan?"
"I don't know," I admit. "It would depend on how long it would take me to find a way back. If there's a way back."
"You might want to consider applying for citizenship at City Hall the first chance you get, then," the officer suggests. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Now then, are you positive that you don't want us to investigate the pony who hired them? Conspiring with thieves is a serious offense in itself. It would be troublesome if she tried again."
A slight head shake. "Now that I have the full story and my wits about me, I should be able to discourage her from pursuing her vendetta against Ms. Heart. I promise that if she gets unruly, the Royal Police will be the first to know." Something's clicking in my mind. "Pardon me for asking, but why didn't you write down anything I said? Isn't that a bit detrimental to your job?"
"I can handle that back at the station," the officer reassures me with a smile. "Nice thing about having a photographic memory is that I never forget what I hear or see. I can repeat back everything you've said since you signaled for us, if you'd like."
Well, that's interesting. That would explain that camera branding he has. Did he earn that because of his memory, or is it the other way around? "That won't be needed. Very advantageous," I compliment him. "So, those thieves told me that their benefactor was at a nightclub called 'The Lonely Heart'. Have you ever heard of that place? And if so, how do I get there from here?..."
This waiting is killing me. How much longer is it until sunrise?
Aside from a quick stop at the restroom, Alexandrite hadn't left her booth since Gates and Bastion had left. Much as she wanted to go home and go to bed, she intended to wait right where she was for news of the thieves' successful mission. It would draw too many questions from others if the thieves tried to meet her at her home; far as she was concerned, it was sheer chance that no one recognized the Castles' representatives when they met at the Lonely Heart. Her decision got her a few odd looks from the servers, but they could go headbutt a concrete wall for all she cared.
She'd looked up a few times whenever the door opened, but it was just the nightclub's usual clientele coming and going. No ponies in Cutie Mark-concealing uniforms appeared to inform her that their task was complete. She chastised herself for getting her hopes up and went back to nursing her bottle of cider, closing her eyes every now and then to give them rest while listening to the band plink away at their instruments.
Distantly, she heard a few muffled sounds outside the door before it opened up again. This time Alexandrite believed she knew better and declined to look up, instead taking another sip from the bottle. It took her a few seconds to realize that all of the noise in the nightclub had disappeared, and it took a shadow falling over her and the table for her to see the source of the silence. For a moment she thought that one of the thieves she'd hired was pranking her by shoving one of Salamandra's stage props in her face, and she opened her mouth to chastise them for their behavior.
"Miss Alexandrite, I presume?"
...Only to jump halfway out of her skin when the alleged stage prop spoke to her, its tone dangerous. "I just had the most interesting conversation with a certain handful of ponies." The words carried throughout the entire nightclub, and everypony was listening. "They say you're one of the most respected figures in the city's theater and art districts. A socialite of fine repute, endearing to a fault, never antagonizing anyone. You're one of those that anyone... or 'anypony', rather... would be privileged to meet." It stationed itself such that the unicorn wouldn't be able to leave the booth without being caught, glaring at her. "Logically speaking, it would indicate that if I asked you why you had those ponies ravage my home, you would give me a straight answer."
Alexandrite's eyes dilated. "Your... home?..."
"Flaming Salamandra's Pyre of Fears," the prop said plainly. Was it her imagination, or was its forehead glowing? "I was given new life this past day, little pony. I believed that I was dying, and by all rights I should be deceased... but instead I woke up and saw the sunlight, felt its wonderful warmth. The one you call 'Drama Heart' has seen fit to house me and see to my needs this night. I am not an ungrateful soul that would reward her generosity with ruination."
Some of those present started murmuring, but Alexandrite didn't hear any of it. She pressed herself against the back of the booth in a vain attempt to get some distance from this... battle-scarred creature, her heart beating faster. No no no no no---! "You... you're a..."
"A monster?" The entity finished bemusedly. "No. Never a monster. What I am..." It held out one hand, a spear of some kind materializing in it out of nothing. "...is a Guardian. I gave my life once in service to a great cause, Miss Alexandrite, and I would gladly do so again. The Pyre of Fears is my home for now, unicorn. My protectorate. I have no reason to fear a ragtag crew of thieves who are motivated by money and nothing else."
A chill built up in the nightclub that had nothing to do with Alexandrite's own fear. "So if you don't mind a friendly suggestion?" the creature continued. "Cut your losses and never harass Salamandra again. Your reputation would take a hit by virtue of those present here, but you would still be free. You would have the opportunity to prove yourself a better pony than you were tonight. The chance to convince all who see you that the endearing mask you wear in public is your true face, not something that's freely discarded when its convenient. In addition, I should be able to convince Salamandra not to set the Royal Police on your tail." A smile just as cold as the air. "Though bear in mind that I said 'should'. It's not going to be a guarantee, Miss Alexandrite. If you don't clean up your act---"
"Alright! Alright!" Alexandrite cried out, frantic and fearful as she raised her hooves before her face, tears in the corners of her eyes. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me---! "You have my word! I won't target her again! Just... just go away!"
The creature kept still for fifteen long seconds. All the while, Alexandrite's heart felt like it was trying to escape her ribcage in the face of the biped's glare. Finally it lowered its weapon, banishing it back to wherever it was it had gotten it from. The glow in the thing's forehead receded. "I've never met some...pony as cowardly as you," it said, hesitating over the pronoun for reasons unknown. "But I'll take you at your word. Provided you live up to your promise, I will never have a reason to cross paths with you again. Good-bye." It turned and walked towards the exit, its footsteps echoing through the nightclub.
"You... you didn't kill the thieves... did you?" Alexandrite inquired after it, trying mightily to rein in her heartrate and hide how relieved she was that she'd gotten off the hook.
The entity paused, staring out at nothing. "...No," it spoke after a short silence before it resumed walking, its voice surprisingly heavy... with a touch of sadness? "I didn't."
Alexandrite wasn't given the opportunity to dwell on this before somepony else spoke up. "Hey, um, lady?" one of the performers on stage asked nervously as it passed. "If I can call you 'lady'... who are you, and did you really come back from the dead?"
"Metaphorically, not literally," the creature clarified, drawing relieved sighs from most of those present and calming the one who'd asked. "I'm not some ancient being like you might have been expecting. If anything, I'm probably just as old as any of you." It stopped with one hand on the door. "As for who I am, it's not important. I don't intend to stay in this city forever, so I'll be out of your manes soon enough."
"So you're okay with us just calling you 'lady', then?"
Surprisingly, this drew a laugh. "That would be a lie. What I've done here in the past few minutes should've proved that I'm no lady."
"Then give us a name," the performer insisted. "Better that than something you're not, right?"
The creature turned to face the stage. Alexandrite was able to work up the bravery to leave her booth and take a few steps closer as it spoke, and she thought she recognized confusion on its face. "I was under the impression that your species would be afraid of me just because of how different I am compared to you, but you're talking to me with next to no fear. Was I wrong?"
"We ain't gonna lie and tell ya that ya don't look creepy," one of the other performers said. "'Specially with those holes in ya. But then again, we thought griffons and minotaurs looked creepy the first time we saw them too, and they turned out so-so. You ain't gonna go around butchering ponies?"
"Not a snowball's chance in a desert on a summer afternoon."
"Then that means you're so-so too, right?"
As those present conversed quietly among themselves at the question, the entity was visibly taken back by this. It slowly raised its hand up to where its heart would have been had it been a minotaur, paused, then dropped it back to its side with a conflicted expression on its face. "...Everypony in this city is crazy."
A wave of chuckling rippled through the nightclub. "You might find that us Manehattanites are a tougher bunch compared to most," a black-maned earth pony in an incredibly ugly leisure suit informed the entity. It wouldn't be until much later that Alexandrite learned that this pony was the nightclub's owner. "So how about it? Are you going to give us a name before you go?"
The creature smiled ruefully. With this expression, it doesn't seem quite as frightening... "If you insist. My name is Leviathan. Fairy Leviathan," it said, enunciating it clearly for all listening. With a nod and a wave it opened the door and departed the nightclub, smiling at the bouncer as it left.
...
As one and all resumed the activities they had been partaking in prior to 'Leviathan's' arrival, with the addition of a wary glare or two directed her way, Alexandrite hung her head as she tried to parse what had taken place. Everything, from discovering that her attempt to ruin Salamandra's life had been foiled to becoming beholden to the one who had thwarted it to start with, journeyed through her mind. Sighing mournfully, she levitated some bits back to her booth and left the nightclub herself. She had sleep to catch up on, and an important decision in the morning to make.
So much for getting my watch back.
Even with my dash thrusters working non-stop, it took me almost ten minutes to get back to the Pyre. I didn't feel comfortable leaving everything unattended, what with the open back door and the living room window, so I was concerned that somepony else had visited while I was away and taken what was left outside. Thankfully there had been no visitors, though a quick investigation of the apartment showed that Drama Heart was still sedated. Knight and Gargoyle had told me that the sedative they'd used would wear off when the sun rose, whenever that was, so time will tell whether that's true or not.
Currently I'm back in the alley. The carts are still where I left them, their contents untouched but the ice keeping the wheels locked in place having long since dissolved. I sigh, looking at just how much the thieves had managed to take before I'd interrupted them.
I have doubts that I can get all of this back where it belongs before sunrise. Some of these I can manage, sure. That skeleton pony from the lobby or the paint cans, to name a few. But the wooden desk? I don't know where it goes. And these curtains look like they belong in the auditorium, but it feels to me like putting them back up would require either a team effort or a unicorn's magic; I don't want to damage these by accident. So as it stands, I'll just bring back what I can and leave the rest to Drama's judgement.
Wishing that the night would come to an end already, I stoop down to pick up the grotesque long-necked monster and place it somewhere out of the way. I think I'm beginning to understand what humans find so appealing about getting nine hours' rest. Maybe I should try it sometime.
And while I'm wishing for the impossible, I'd like a swimming pool the size of this entire block, please.
True to Knight and Gargoyles' words, the sedative Drama Heart was injected with began to fade around the time Celestia's sun began its rise. A half hour later its effects were gone entirely, and shortly thereafter she woke up feeling remarkably well rested.
That's the best sleep I've had in a while. Drama clambered out of bed and reared up just enough to stretch her forelegs a little. Hm, feels pleasantly cool in here. I must have left the window open last night without meaning to. I'll have to look around for bugs in a bit, but I don't think it'll hurt to leave it as it is until after I'm done with breakfast. Not suspecting anything, she left to get cleaned up without checking behind her bedroom curtains first.
...
When Drama left the bathroom a half hour later, she felt refreshed and ready to tackle her first full day as a caretaker. Her mane was in the frizzy style she preferred, though she knew it would settle into something more "normal" as the hours passed. She didn't place her bow in her mane, instead stashing it away for now. With her hygiene and such taken care of, breakfast became her main priority.
En route to the kitchen she stopped when she reached the living room, and she stepped in to check on her guest. Leviathan was still where she had left her on the couch, but she had shifted positions during the night so that her face was all but buried in the hoofrest. One arm hung partway off the couch, the back of her hand resting against the floor. The blankets she was covered with seemed a bit marred and oddly rumpled, though Drama didn't know what the causes of those were.
What she understood from yesterday's explanation told her that the living machine needed as much rest as possible in order to completely regenerate, so Drama decided to just leave her alone and go about her day. Let's see now, checklist. What do you have to offer me? Take a quick look at my accounts and double-check to make sure they're in order. Brainstorm ideas for another performance. Take Leviathan out shopping in the afternoon and see if any of the stores have more of those Heartbreakers available, maybe take her to the fashion district and see if there are any boutiques that cater to bipeds... she at least needs something to hide those wounds. I don't think she'd like it if I tried mummifying her.
She had just finished a light breakfast--carrot juice and a blueberry bagel--when the door chime sounded. As the facsimile of a dragon's laughter faded, Drama stared through the floor in the general direction of the theater's front door. I'm not expecting anypony, she pondered as she left her dishes in the sink to wash later and trotted out of the apartment. Who is it? Gray or Turkey checking to see how Fairy's feeling today?
Her curiosity grew as she made her way down the stairs, and she opened the door that led to the theater lobby.
...
Those few ponies who lived on the block and slept soundly through the Reploid Vs. Midnight Castle scuffle jumped awake as a rageful shriek rattled the air.
I'm inside a computer. There are floating arrows with eyes throwing blocks at me. What's that catchy tune playing...?
"FAIRY LEVIATHAN!"
Mmph. What's that noise? ... Don't care, trying to rest.
"GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY!"
Not young, not a lady. Go away, voice in my head. Bring me Zero. I'm bored.
"DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE AND GLOMP YOU AGAIN!"
Don't know what that word means. Don't care. Good-bye.
I'm running on a treadmill. Not on it long enough, platforms are disappearing---
What's that pressure I'm feeling?...
...
...
Power Output: 33% of capacity. Cannot exceed 41.3% at the present time.
Coolant Levels: 86.5%.
Ice Manipulation: 45%. Main system undamaged. Low-medium efficiency due to reduced power output.
Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve bank: 2%.
Structural Integrity: 61.9%.
CPU cancels sleeping: hugged by a horse.
Mmff. Wish I could've slept longer.
As my systems boot up, rouse me from the weird dream I was having and list off my system statuses, I can immediately tell there's something pinning me to Drama's couch. I can dislodge it easily, but I might as well make sure of what it is first. It's positioned on my back, it doesn't seem to care that my helmet's fins are in the way, and it has its hooves wrapped around my neck--
Wait. Hooves?
I open my eyes and shift my head enough to see what's weighing me down. There's a pony-shaped face mere centimeters from mine---
...!
Just before an undignified scream vacates my throat once again, the thought flashes through my mind: Oh. So that's what that word means.
"KYAAAAA!"
Drama Heart didn't flinch from the high-decibel screech going off right in her ears. She'd dealt both with worse and from more voices at once. She hung on tight as Leviathan practically spun off the couch to the floor, both blankets flying away as she tried to get the unicorn off of her. "Miss Drama, let go of me! It wasn't funny the first time you did that!"
Drama wasn't impressed. "It got you to wake up, didn't it?" All the same she let go and climbed off, immediately charging for the door. "Now c'mon. You're going downstairs with me!"
Leviathan blinked, her face a writhing mass of confusion. "...What? Why?"
The Reploid pushed herself away at Drama's raging fury. "Because 1), what did you do to my theater? 2), why is there a journalist from the Manehattan Minutes at the door? And 3),why is there a Royal Police officer at the door?!"
"...So that's what this is about. Before you start accusing me of anything," Leviathan answered calmly, getting to her feet, "you did notice a speck of blood on your neck when you woke up, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I assumed it was from a spider bite," Drama said, voice cooling down towards normal. "I treated it while I was getting washed up. Why?"
"That wasn't a spider bite," Leviathan told her dryly. "That was a sedative."
Drama's brain flatlined for a split second before getting its act back together. "...What?"
"I imagine that you'll probably be getting the full story from that officer downstairs, if this is what I think it's about," Leviathan said, her confidence back in her voice. "You can stand here and lambaste me, or you can hear them out. Your call, but it's best not to keep them waiting."
A displeased nicker. "This had better be a good one, dearie," Drama warned, turning and trotting for the door.
Leviathan smiled as she followed her into the hall beyond. "I'm certain this qualifies as 'good'. Trust me. In fifteen minutes you'll be wondering why you were angry at me in the first plaaacceeee---!"
Already halfway down the first stairway, the horror-savvy Drama didn't bother trying to turn around when Leviathan's voice unexpectedly rose in pitch. Instead she pressed herself as flat as she could against the stairs, ducking her head. This action prevented her from accidentally getting brained as Neo Arcadia's aquatic Guardian fell past her, tumbling down the flight and smacking into the wall at the bottom.
"Fairy!" Drama straightened and hurried down the remaining stairs as quickly as she dared, concerned. "Are you alright?"
"Ergh... wall's probably more damaged than I am." Leviathan made no move to get up beyond rolling onto her side, grimacing. "I misjudged that first step. Maybe I should just come in through the window from now on. Less chance of embarrassing myself that way."
Drama skimmed over the thankfully undamaged wall before looking over Leviathan. "Dear sweet Celestia," the unicorn murmured as she satisfied herself with her companion's condition. "You're just going to be hopeless with the utterly mundane, aren't you?"
"I was once told that I should keep my helmet on at all times," the disgruntled Reploid groused as she stood up and dusted herself off. "At first I thought it was because I'd never know if I needed to fight something at any time, day or night. I think now I'm getting the true reason why."
"And that ridiculous footwear of yours isn't doing you any favors," Drama added as they continued on down the second flight.
"I spent most of my time underwater, alright? Sheesh."
...
As Drama stated, there were two ponies waiting outside the theater doors. The journalist she was talking about had a fairly bushy mustache, a nicely-trimmed mane that was just beginning to gray at the back, looked like he took everything more seriously than most, and had on a rumpled white dress shirt. For reasons Drama could only guess at, he seemed uncomfortable being at the Pyre. His pencil-and-notepad Cutie Mark indicated his occupation.
The officer next to him didn't have the light armor that the ones on the night shift had worn, instead just sporting an R.P. cap and blue shirt with a tie. Her Cutie Mark was a plain coffee mug that was filled to the brim. She nodded in greeting when the door opened. “Miss Leviathan and Miss Heart, correct? Officer Coffee-and-Cream with the Royal Police.”
“Good morning, officer,” Drama greeted her warily, hooking the door to a wall-mounted latch to keep it open. “If this is about Leviathan she only just arrived in town, so she doesn't have an ID card yet...”
"Actually, I'm just here to escort her to the police station," the officer corrected, smiling cheerfully in an attempt to offset Drama's caution. "The reward money's waiting for her."
“Reward money?” Drama echoed. “What are you talking about, ma'am?”
"You didn't know?" Coffee-and-Cream pulled out a wanted poster and presented it to them. The picture on it was an artist's rendition of two earth ponies, one thin and wiry with a very buckable face, the other bulky and powerful. Both wore dark blue outfits that blocked their Cutie Marks from view, though the marks in question were etched over their heads. "'Wanted for multiple counts of thievery, breaking and entering, misuse of magic gemstones, and illegal ownership of Royal Guard weaponry: the Midnight Castle gang'," she recited. "'Leaders: Iron Gates and Bastion. Group totals seven ponies in all: three earth ponies, two pegasi, two unicorns. 2,600 gold bits for the capture of both leaders, 3,500 for the entire gang.'"
Drama rounded on Leviathan, her mouth having fallen open long before she got any words out. "You got up and went bounty hunting while you should have been sleeping?"
"Not intentionally," Leviathan answered, not missing the journalist hastily scrawling everything down. "They were raiding the theater. I couldn't sleep as long as they were here, so I decided to catch them and turn them over to the Police."
This did nothing to calm the unicorn down, instead worsening her mood. "Somepony tried to steal from my theater?" she intoned in a voice she typically reserved for her 'ghoul' imitations. How dare they, how DARE they---!
“Calm down,” Leviathan told her, her tone as serious as pickles on hay burgers. “I don't think the police would appreciate you trying to lobotomize their prisoners.”
Drama turned to her, scandalized. “Oh, I wouldn't do that. That's too lowbrow!” A thin, devious little smile. “On the other hoof, removing all of their nose hairs with my tail trimmer---”
“Miss Drama Heart, have a little class!” the journalist cut in hastily. “We have standards! Get yourself under control!”
“...Good to know that controversial brain operations are on the same level as improper use of nasal scissors,” Leviathan commented, eyes half-closed. “And if someone told me a year ago that I would be saying that sentence, I would've had them committed.” She nodded at the journalist. “So you're with the news, then?”
“That I am. Buried Lede. I'm a reporter and editor with the Manehattan Minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the theater, Reploid, and ponies alike. “Somepony at the office wanted me to find out more about a disturbance that was taking place in this neighborhood yesterday, but it looks like something much bigger's blown through here. Anypony mind helping me get the full picture? ...A word picture, mind you. Not an actual picture.”
“I would say that I'd need to clean this mess up first,” Drama mused a trifle irritably, glaring at the pile of items that Leviathan had left in the back of the lobby, “but that could take a while. Do you need to talk to Fairy right now, or can it wait?”
Leviathan regarded Drama suspiciously, but it was Lede who answered. “I can always chase her down later, as long as I know where she's going to be. The story's not complete without every angle.”
“Good. Fairy, while I'm giving Mr. Lede his interview, go on ahead with the nice officer to the station and pick up your money.” The unicorn ignored Leviathan's puzzled face. “Get yourself more of that candy if you like, and do scout the fashion district for a suitable boutique. I'm not going to let you wander around looking like something Gray Ghost dragged in!”
Leviathan had been caught by surprise a number of times in the past twenty-four hours already, but having somepony make her decisions for her did a good job adding to the collection. She raised a finger to protest. “But---”
“If you don't know where to go, just ask somepony for directions.” Drama patted her hand. “You're a grown machine. I'm sure you'll be fine! And please, take your time. I'll be busy today.”
“But I---”
“And before you say anything else, no I'm not interested in your reward money,” Drama interrupted, turning away with an air of 'this conversation is over, I have a journalist to talk to'. “You're the one who caught the thieves, not me. Spend the money as you will, and I'll see you when you get back!” She beckoned for the journalist to follow her in as she walked away towards her office, grabbing a few stray items in her magic as she went.
...
Leviathan looked helplessly first at her departing form, then at the officer who was trying her hardest not to laugh. “I don't suppose there's some way I can get out of this?”
“You could, but unless you have a very good reason, it shows a lack of appreciation for our generosity and makes you look rude,” the officer replied in the negative. “And you were acting alone in this, so we can't just give it to somepony else. You could do that yourself after we give you the money...”
“And if I find out you did that, I will pin you to my couch and give you all the love and attention you could ever hate!” Drama Heart hollered from her office.
A bead of sweat trailed down the officer's temple. “...but it doesn't look like that's an option either. How in Equestria did you get yourself saddled with such a creep?”
Leviathan's hand pressed against her face, dropping off of it slowly. “I'm sure the local news will tell the city about it soon enough. Can we just go, please?”
“I thought you'd never ask.” The officer led her out the door to the parked carriage nearby. “Come on, Miss Leviathan. Let's go.”
...
I look around outside the carriage as we rumble down the street before addressing the vehicle's source of horsepower. “So,” I ask in what will probably be a vain attempt at conversation, "is 'Coffee-and-Cream' your real name?”
“It's short for 'I-Like-My-Sugar-With-Coffee-and-Cream',” the officer explains in a tone that suggests that she's been asked this a hundred times before and is absolutely sick of it. “I'm told my Mom was out of it when I was born. The less said about that, the better.”
Figured I wasn't going to get anyplace. “Fair enough.”
A bedbug has invaded the blankets of the city that never sleeps. Please find enclosed this sketch of a being unlike anything ever seen in Equestria. That might be stretching it, but have you seen anything with this kind of appearance?
I've heard the words straight from its mouth. It is a Reploid, a fully living machine with everything that implies. Difficult to believe, yes, but there was enough light for me to catch a glimpse of what lay within its damaged body: metal, wiring, tubing, more metal, and what it referred to as coolant (basically its equivalent to blood) staining its frame. I caught its scent, and there is nothing biological about it.
One would think that its voice would be flat and emotionless, as dictated by sci-fi writers everywhere, but instead it conveyed a wide array of emotions from amusement to annoyance appropriately. It proved itself capable of free-thinking: it deliberately took a lightning strike to the head to save another pony's life, knowing that it could shrug it off. And from what I have heard it speak of, it is no stranger to violence. Were I a gambling pony, I'd bet my old claws that it was made for war. Too, I'd wager my earrings that it knows little about magic: learning what a unicorn's aura was for made it faint.
What truly convinced me that it was an alien being was its reaction to being confronted with a basic door. It treated the door like it was expected to open on its own, but was proven wrong by a collision. This forced the machine to request help in bypassing it. One would think that unless its case was truly extreme, it would at least be familiar with the concept. Everything it does in reaction to its surroundings makes me think of somepony who moves to a big city after previously spending their whole life on a secluded farm. I'm not saying this to be mean, but it doesn't belong here.
The machine introduced herself--yes, it identifies itself as a "she"--as 'Fairy Leviathan'. The name itself feels disturbing, like it's trying to combine the beauty of a Breezie with the viciousness of a cragadile. Maybe that's just me, maybe not.
My drawings aren't high-quality by any stretch, so I would like to clarify that this is not simplistic clothing she's wearing: it's actually a set of lightweight armor, though I can only guess at what it's made of. As alien as she appears to be, it feels to me like she is meant to have a streamlined look, even if it doesn't come off as such to ponies. She's a mystery, and the explanation she provided as to why she's here only raises more questions. More on that when I have the ink to spare.
I have not seen her at full strength as of yet, but she could be a serious game-changer in that none of her functions depend on magic. With this in mind, I'd like to request that my status as one of your agents, however tangential and tentative that it had been while I was with the Royal Police, be reactivated. Somepony needs to watch events play out, and with the news of its existence getting ready to spread around Manehattan and beyond as I write this, I am in perfect position to do so. I await your orders.
P.S. - Someday you have got to drop in for dinner! My husband makes the best carrot-and-potato casserole ever, and I know that my little darlings would love to meet the real you.
The next morning at sunrise...
FROM: The Crown
TO: Untold Walker
Disintegrate after reading. By the Order of the Princess.
Your re-emergence and message could not have happened at a worse time. As of yesterday, a monster classified as a "bugbear" that was previously captured by the agency has somehow escaped from Tartarus and gone into hiding. As it possesses knowledge of our agents and may seek vengeance, particularly against the one who captured it, I have fully dissolved S.M.I.L.E. and triggered Contingency Ultimus. Thoroughly destroy any evidence of your affiliation with the agency that you possess. Henceforth, I will disavow any knowledge of your existence in the event inquiries are made.
But if it appears within your jurisdiction and you are in a position to re-capture the bugbear, then please do so. In all cases, follow protocol.
As to the topic you raised: I have seen the sketch of the creature that you sent with your missive, and I am forced to admit that none of the bipeds I've encountered across my life are anything quite like this. The obvious damage, its unnerving visage... I don't know if this was an intentional detail or if it is a reflection of your self-admittedly poor artistry, but it doesn't look like its eyes have any pupils to speak of. This together with your statement that it is both mechanical and truly alive already worried me, but adding immunity to lightning? I feel that most ponies would be worried if they knew its capabilities, possibly panicked, and I can not blame them. After dwelling upon the matter for some time this past evening, I agree with your sentiment that it is meant for violence.
However, I also agree that it is both lost and confused, and I believe it would be amenable to more peaceful means of living if given the opportunity. I admit that it is wishful thinking, given that this is a truly alien being in our midst, but I do not feel that I would be able to live with myself if we didn't give it every chance it deserves. Go, and assist "Fairy Leviathan" as you see fit. In the meantime, while I have my doubts that we can safely return "her" to her world of origin, I will make discreet inquiries around Canterlot for any clues, no matter how tenuous they seem.
All the same, do not expose it to the Royal Guard, Manehattan's local off-shoot, or other military affairs more than is really required by law. This is strictly a 'just-in-case' measure in case we are wrong about Leviathan, but I do not want Equestria to be caught off guard. Having served under me before, you know my feelings about this.
P.S. - On a personal note, I am delighted that you have surfaced alive and well, and with foals no less. I will consider your invite, though regretfully it does not appear that I will be able to make it anytime soon. This regalia feels heavier every day.
We didn't have any provisions for bounty hunters back in Neo Arcadia.
By and large, humanity and Reploids were all gathered together in one spot. I'll put it this way: if anyone else managed to eke out an existence in that unforgiving wasteland that covered the planet, we had no knowledge of it. There was no need to dispatch freelancers out to the great beyond: any messes were somewhere in the vicinity of Neo Arcadia and within our reach. And in the rare times that we encountered someone who could fight Mavericks and/or the Resistance, we didn't waste our time with one-off deals. We would just bring them into the fold and be done with it.
So part of me is surprised by this. Who would have thought that people could earn money from doing this, provided that the authorities were willing and able to pay up? Was this something else that used to be fairly common--or at the very least not unheard of--in centuries past, or is there something I'm missing? It feels like I'm not getting the full story somehow.
I have to fill some paperwork out before I can receive my money. According to the middle-aged staffer I'm talking to at the Police station, I may need to testify before a court at a later date as to how I caught those thieves. Among other things, this means supplying them with my contact information so that they can get a hold of me.
Just one problem: I still haven't had time to learn the written language yet.
I tell Officer Coffee-and-Cream, and by proxy everypony else in the room, of my dilemma. After some back-and-forth, it is suggested that I just fill out the form in my preferred language first, with Coffee clarifying what goes where. Following that I can read off the information, and they would use their own language to approximate what they hear. It might strike some as being redundant, but at least this way everypony was being kept honest.
"Name?"
"Fairy Leviathan. Technically 'Fairy' is a title, but this way it fits your general naming scheme."
"Age?"
"At least 30 years. I'm probably older, but that's as far back as my memories go and I didn't think to bring a birth certificate." Or 'production certificate', either or.
"Species?"
"Reploid."
A moment as they parse what I said. "Gender?"
"None, but that just makes things more confusing in casual conversation. Let's just call me female for simplicity's sake, alright?"
"Current address? This one's not filled out."
"Whichever address Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears is located at. Or 'Flaming' Salamandra. I've heard her use both."
The ponies paused to peruse a business directory before nodding and writing it down. "319 13th Street. Current occupation?"
There are any number of things I can say in response. My title of Guardian doesn't hold much weight here. I used to be an environmentalist of sorts, but not anymore. So, since I'm most likely believed dead back home... "Retired soldier." Hopefully they won't question that euphemism.
"Country and city of origin?"
This one will have its issues. Even discounting my otherworldly origins, the long decades of war had effectively erased all boundaries. We didn't have countries anymore, plain and simple. "Neo Arcadia. Just... that. Kind of hard to give a country when none exists."
The officers are full of questions, that much is evident, but their professionalism shines through again. "There are a lot of unknowns here, and it looks like there are some things you're not telling us, but that can wait until it becomes relevant. How long have you resided here in Manehattan?"
"Less than twenty-four hours."
Coffee-and-Cream nudged me, amused. "Making a name for yourself already, huh? Should we expect regular visits from you?"
She meant it as a joke, so logically this means that I would address it with all of the seriousness it deserves. "I hadn't planned to make this a career. I want to get repaired and go home, so I would prefer not to be here any longer than two months at most."
A few sets of ears turned down at this, with Coffee's one of them. "That's a shame. Speaking solely for myself, Miss Leviathan, I think the Royal Police would be happy to have you once you became a legal resident."
Okay, they're making it really difficult to prevent myself from squealing over their cuteness. With some effort, I keep myself restrained to a laugh. "Kyahahaha! Don't worry. I'm just messing with you, sort of. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind helping you all out if another opportunity arises. I just feel like the bulk of my time's better spent devising some way of returning home."
"Fair enough. Do you feel you'll be here for at least the next two weeks?"
"I don't see why not. Being in a city at least feels like familiar territory."
The middle-aged staffer thumbs through what's probably a guidebook. Impressive, considering his lack of digits. "I wouldn't consider this a 'standard' situation, so here's what I suggest. City Hall is closed today, but I'll get some paperwork with your information prepared and mailed out. This way when you apply for citizenship, they'll already have it on hoof. Head over there in about three days and ask the pony at the front desk, and you'll be told where to go."
I'm probably not going to be getting out of this without becoming a citizen of Equestria, am I? It feels a bit jarring. Just a day ago, I was fighting to protect Neo Arcadia's people, and now look at me. You'd be alone if you thought this was how I expected my life to turn out. "It's really that easy?"
"The legal process used to be substantially more tedious," the staffer explains. I really wish he'd remembered to give his name. "A holdover from the days when Equestria was on strained or hostile terms with its neighbors. Eventually Princess Celestia got it into her head to streamline the process and make it easier for those that genuinely liked Equestria to remain if they wanted. Nowadays, if whoever it is can provide definitive proof that they'll be within Equestria's boundaries for a prolonged period and they keep their noses clean on all fronts, they can stay, come and go as they please. It's just a matter of getting you recorded in the official register for legality's sake. Some towns and villages skip this entirely, but in a city as big as Manehattan it's a necessity."
There's that name again. 'Princess Celestia'. Judging from the context she's the ruler of the entire nation, not just this one city. I wonder if she was officially... what's the word... coronated, if that's the case. There's some doubt there... or maybe she was, since she passed whatever legislature was required to make gaining citizenship easier...? I don't know. Stories that tell of kings and queens presiding over their lands have been around for ages, but no such rulers have been around as long as I've been alive. The closest figure I can think of that matches the description is Copy X. If princesses really do meet the criteria for widespread governing I haven't the foggiest, and that's another example of just how little I know. "Makes sense, I guess. So, is there anything else?"
"No, that should be everything. Let's give you your reward." The staffer starts to duck beneath the counter, but there's a split-second's pause as he realizes something. "Hold up. Miss Leviathan, do you have something to carry them in?"
I shake my head 'no.'
"Not even a knapsack to your name, huh?"
"Not even that. Aside from my weapon, which the Police should already know about from my statements last night, everything..." In this world... "...that I own I'm currently wearing."
The staffer gives it a bit of thought. "Guess there's no helping it, then." He ducks behind the counter, this time returning with a canvas bag in his mouth. He places it before me and unties the strings keeping it shut, revealing its contents. "Your reward as promised. 3,500 bits for the entire Midnight Castle gang's capture. Keep the bag, too."
I do a quick double-take at this last one, checking to see if... yes, that's the Police's emblem sewn into the bag. "Are you positive? Won't ponies get suspicious if I walk out of here like this?"
The aged pony waves it off with a smile. "If they do, direct their inquiries to the Station. We'll make sure that those currently on shift are notified so that they know what to expect. If it really concerns you, nothing's stopping you from using some of that money to buy your own bag before returning this one."
"I'm surprised that you're not making a bigger deal out of this," Coffee comments. "It may not pay all of your bills across a moon, but 3,500 bits is still a decent sum."
Compared to my earlier laughter, my chuckle is subdued. "I'll let you in on a secret: where I'm from, I had no real use for physical money and no way to judge its value. I don't even know how I'm going to spend all of this."
Not sure if I'm going to get used to how expressive these ponies' faces can be. "...Huh. Not sure if I believe that."
I think my amused snorts are becoming more natural-sounding, in my opinion. "Still the truth whether you believe it or not, Coffee-and-Cream."
Happily she's not trying to force the issue, despite her misgivings. "If you don't mind a friendly recommendation, Miss Leviathan?"
"What is it?" I ask, tying the bag shut and hefting it over one shoulder.
Everypony shudders, though its the one behind the counter that speaks. "Buy yourself a coat. Just because we're good at hiding it doesn't mean you're not making us nervous with those holes in you."
I shut my eyes and count to ten under my breath very slowly before re-opening them. "Suggestion noted, officer. My 'caretaker' is wanting me to visit the fashion district anyway," I reply, my preferences clear in my sour tone. "Which way do I go to get there? Anypony know?"
The soft sound of wingbeats subtly shakes the air. I turn away from the officers and suddenly eyes in my face what in blue blazes---! "I can help you out with that," a friendly, familiar voice offers.
"GRAY!" I screech, jerking away and almost stumbling over the startled Coffee, who side-steps just in time. My systems are blaring a high-volume warning at the suddenness of the pegasus' appearance. "Don't do that! What are you, a ninja?!"
"No, I'm a housewife," Gray tells me as if I hadn't just screamed at her. Talk about nerves of steel. "You said you wanted to know where the fashion district is?"
Twice, twice over. That's two times I've been scared out of my synthskin just in the past hour, and two times that this same pony has snuck up on me in the past day. I swear to X, she is not going to catch me off guard like that again. "Gray. Seriously. Why? If I had my Javelin out, I could have killed you just now!"
"She does that. Nopony knows why. Just try to get used to it," the elder officer says, rolling his eyes. "If I had a bit for every time she snuck up on me, I could afford that pinball machine I've been wanting."
"Hm?" Gray perks up, recognizing the stallion's voice. Her face lights up as if she'd recognized an old friend. "Oh hey, Codger! When did you get here?" She settles onto the counter as she talks, despite this being a blatant no-no in most circles. "I thought you would have retired years ago!..."
Analyzing the situation at lightning speed helps me calm down some. "That answers that," I murmur. Coffee looks up questioningly, so I clarify it for her. "I was wondering yesterday if she was in some position of authority, and I'd just gotten her on her day off. She must've been an officer herself once."
"I'm surprised you were able to figure something like that out so fast," Coffee murmurs back, slipping a baton back into one sleeve. "I didn't think she was allowed to be here, so I was ready to escort her out." Alongside those looking on, she watches 'Codger's' face soften as he talks about some past experience or other with Gray. "But looking at them like this, she must've been very respected in her time for her to come and go as she pleases. I wonder if I could get like that someday?"
"Maybe ask Codger about it when you're both off the clock?" an on-looker suggests. "He looks like he has some stories to tell. He could have some advice."
Coffee rubs her chin in thought, then lowers her hoof with a smile. "I might just do that. Thanks."
As fun as this is, I have business to take care of. "Gray?" I call. "Is there a reason you're here besides catching up with old friends?"
"Ooh, right. Thanks for reminding me." Gray and Codger tap hooves briefly before she goes airborne again, addressing me directly. "I was hoping to see how you were doing this morning, but Drama and that reporter pointed me in this direction." She grins. "You go out carousing last night?"
Okay, so maybe there is a bright side to having my exploits published. "If you want the full story, wait for tomorrow's news," I answer. "I don't want to re-tell it more times than I need to."
The background noise increases in volume a bit. Are they or are they not looking forward to my existence being divulged to the public? "I can't say I pity anypony who gets subjected to Buried Lede's tender mercies," Gray remarks. "He's relentless where getting the truth out's concerned. When I showed up, he was even taking a picture of Drama's spider mane for future reference."
...Okay, I have to know about this. "Spider mane?"
"That's just what I like to call this wicked wig she keeps for performances," Gray explains. "Looks like a gigantic recluse was nesting on her head."
Oh, right... that was another one of those things that the thieves were trying to steal. I recall wondering if it was necessary for it to look so scraggly. "Hm. Anyway, my business is done here. Soo... fashion district?"
"Sure. There are probably a few stores that have opened by now. If not, they will be soon." She's smiling eagerly. "How about it? Ready for your first true look at Manehattan as a whole?"
Not that I didn't get a good look at the city on my way to and from the Lonely Heart, but I don't think that's quite what she means. "May as well get this out of the way." I nod politely at those in the room. "Coffee-and-Cream? Codger? The rest of you? Thank you for your generosity. Until another day."
"On behalf of the Royal Police, thank you for doing Manehattan's citizens a favor," Coffee tells me with complete seriousness, raising one hoof towards me. I glance at Gray briefly; she nods and mimes the same action, making it clear what the decorum for this situation is.
At the very least, I tell myself, it's nice to know that I did some legitimate good for these ponies. Compared to my recent life, this at least is something I can look back on fondly. I smile, close my hand into a fist and tap it against the officer's hoof, accepting the gesture and the thanks.
It's just a casual stroll through the streets of Manehattan. Or it's at least as casual as one gets when you're almost six feet tall in heels, visibly injured, and holding a conversation with a pegasus who does an excellent job of making others think she's homeless while on your way to make yourself look pretty.
The fashion district is a fair distance away from the police station, but Gray had told me that it wouldn't hurt to just walk over there instead of trying to take speedy shortcuts over the rooftops. It would give most of the shops extra time to open, and it was a nice morning for walking anyway: right on the borderline between cool and warm, no clouds to be seen, and a very refreshing breeze. I won't lie and say that I didn't start to love walking in these conditions very quickly, so I agreed to Gray's request to take it easy for now.
It almost let me ignore the cautious and often-times fearful looks I was getting from most of the residents. A lot of ponies ranging from foals to young adults stayed at least ten paces away (their paces, not mine), and one screamed in terror and fled down the street. That one at least was the exception, as most of those in that age group at least acknowledged that I had somepony escorting me and continued going about their business after a few moments.
Still wish I hadn't been screamed at. Being feared by common citizens isn't a comfortable feeling for me, so I'll be happy to be gone from here.
The younger generation could've stood to learn a few things from their elders. Ponies that I ascertained were either Gray's age or older were cautious at first, but the pegasus' presence seemed more reassuring than it was for the others, so they had an easier time ignoring me. Going by what I had seen at the station, I guessed that this group was old enough to remember what good Gray had done for the Police while she was still with them, and thus still had a trustworthy reputation. One pony was brave enough to smile and wave at us as we passed, to which we returned the favor.
I'm assuming Gray joined the Police when she came of age, and then quit to raise her family after only a few years. In that case, just what did she do in that time span to make her so respected by the majority of her generation? I know it's none of my business, but I'm still curious. I'll ask her about it when there's nothing else going on.
Right now, she's giving me an abridged history lesson... or trying to, anyway. I've already had to interrupt a few times to ask for clarification on certain topics I didn't understand. As one example, she'd told me that Manehattan was primarily an 'earth pony' city, and that unicorns and pegasi such as Drama and herself who actually lived within its bounadries were a stark minority. When I asked her what she meant by 'earth pony', she explained that she was talking about those that didn't have wings or horns. This seemed strange to me: given that the city encompassed this entire island plus a few neighborhoods on the mainland, I thought that having wings and magic would have helped them put the city together.
Then Gray told me that earth ponies are renowned for their strength. Like humans and Reploids, their individual strength depends on the pony. It could vary from being slightly stronger than the other two races to hurling large boulders around with minimal effort, with everything that implies. Not only did this make the city's status more palatable, but it reminded me of a minor detail that I'd almost forgotten: how that pony who'd carried me out of the alley hadn't needed to put much effort in. Understanding the basics behind them helps that experience make more sense.
I still could have done without the humiliation of being carted off, though.
Anyway, I'm glad Gray's being patient with me and answering my questions. With as much information as I'm taking in regarding this new society, I suppose it's just a matter of time before I have to stop just to sort through it all. There are so many differences between here and home, it's not even funny. And I'm not just talking about the species, either.
I switch from listening with half an ear to a full ear as Gray continues her latest explanation. "...So Princess Celestia's envoys were able to purchase the island from the inhabitants in exchange for a hoofful of trinkets that she knew the locals valued. Both sides saw it as a steal: Celestia was able to establish the harbor she wanted at the cost of what she viewed as junk, and the griffons reversed their financial losses from the skirmishes pretty quickly--"
"Hold on just a second, Gray," I cut in. "Princess Celestia? Are you talking about the same pony who streamlined the nation's immigration process?"
"One and the same," she confirms.
"And how long ago was the purchase made?"
"About... 390 years ago, give or take a few."
...What. "So you're telling me that your country's ruler is at least four centuries old?"
"Closer to ten, really. And I think that's lowballing it."
...WHAT? "And you're being completely serious about this..."
Gray tilts her head quizzically as she walks. "Yes. Why? Isn't there anypony back where you're from that gets that old?"
My head shakes a few times, and my disbelief breaks through. "No, of course not! Reploids at least have the potential to live a few centuries provided they don't die in battle and keep themselves in good repair. Biological beings don't have that luxury, at least none that are sapient!"
"All I know is that there are no records of Celestia ever dying and being replaced by somepony with the same name. For all these years she's been the exact same pony," Gray answers, not bothered in the slightest by my incredulity. "Manehattan changes. Equestria changes. The world changes. She does not. Not physically, not mentally, not magically. Quite literally nopony else has the sort of power needed to keep the sun and moon moving. I think we'd know if there was another who could."
...
She's moving the...!
"Fairy?"
At the back of my mind, I realize that Gray's gotten a few meters ahead of me. I dutifully ignore that. "Answer me something," I say, struggling with all of my might to stay calm and coherent. "Have your world's astronomers been able to determine the distance between this world and the sun?"
Gray taps her chin, frowning as she tries to recall the information. Either that or she's hiding her bemusement at being asked a strange question. "Ugh, been an age and a half since I learned about this in school... alright, I think I remember. They estimated it to be something like... 92, maybe 93 million miles away?"
...
How? ... Just... how? Yes, I know magic is the obvious answer here, but...! "The sort of power n-needed..." I stammer as my CPU hammers out the calculations. I can't keep my thoughts in order anymore. This is just too much! "The power n-needed to move the sun at that distance, to k-keep it in control...!"
The little pony is both unimpressed and unsympathetic. "You're not going to faint on me again, are you?"
I... I don't believe it. These ponies are able to just... just take this for granted? Wake up every morning, expect to see the sun just rise up out of the blue, guided by who is probably the world's most powerful unicorn? And here I thought Omega and Zero were strong; if Celestia didn't hold back, she could reduce this world to charcoal singlehandedly! "Gray," I state, my voice heavy, "I hope with all my heart that I never meet your ruler in person. I can't begin to imagine what she is like, but she feels to me like the most frightening creature that ever lived."
I expected a furious denial from a loyal citizen of the country.
"WAHAHAHAHA! Fr...frightening...!"
I didn't expect furious laughter. Seriously, Gray's pressed herself against the ground and repeatedly smacking it with a hoof, she's laughing so hard. After about fifteen seconds of this, I look around the street and try to restore a measure of dignity to my situation. "Gray," I call to her, raising my voice to be heard over her enjoyment. "Ponies are staring!"
"S-sor-sor-sorrryyyy," Gray struggles to get out before another round of giggles escapes her. "You just... you just got me with that one. I don't... hee-hee-hee-hee~!... I don't think somepony who takes... takes time out of her busy schedule to cook pancakes for foals once a month could ever be frightening!" She continues grinning as she tries to catch her breath, standing up straight. "Whoo, haven't laughed that hard since the lacrosse incident..."
I think my suspension of disbelief is screaming in agony. ...Okay, the on-lookers aren't looking on anymore. I can keep going now. "Pan...cakes?"
"Yeah. Pancakes. You know, those little flat things made of flour, milk, eggs, and love? They don't have those where you're from?" Beat. "...Wait, did I say love? I meant maple syrup. Excuse me. I sometimes get the two confused."
I try to imagine Copy X making what she's talking about, using a situation where he needed to maintain good public relations. I give up quickly, and not just because I've never set foot in a kitchen in my life. "She... she seriously does that?"
"Yes."
"And she... she has that much power?"
"Uh-huh. Though obviously she'd never fight at her full potential even when pushed. She cares about her subjects too much to do that."
"And she's lived that long?"
"Yeppity-yep with a whole lot of yep."
That clinches it. I don't care what happens. Tonight, I'm going to sit on the roof of the theater and devote every precious pound of processing power I possess (ooh, nice alliteration) to scan this feat for myself. If Celestia really does manipulate the sun and moon, there should be some outward sign of it beyond them just moving around freely. Short of seeing the Princess herself, there's no way I'm going to be convinced of this unless I can ascertain visible proof. Preferably with a method that doesn't involve me damaging my optics beyond anything my auto-repair can handle.
Gray's nudging my leg with a hoof. "Leviathan."
"...Yes, Gray?"
"Say it. I know you're thinking it."
And so I do. Flabbergasted and at a complete loss for anything else to say, I restate what I told the crowd at the nightclub just this past night. "...Everypony in this city is crazy."
"See? I knew you could do it." Gray turns and continues down the street, chortling. "Welcome to Equestria. Enjoy your stay."
With no other alternative but to slam my face into a lightpost, I summon all the dignity I possess and continue walking after her instead. Hopefully those few ponies I can hear sniggering nearby will stop once I leave.
It's been a block or so since that conversation. I never switched off my scanners after we purchased those Heartbreakers yesterday, so when we approached another grocery store on the way to the fashion district, they alerted me that there was a potential Energen substitute within the store. I informed Gray, and she shrugged and said that if I wanted to buy something there to feel free.
Which leads me to my current problem: if I walk into that store with the Police's bag in tow, they're likely to mistake me for a thief. And if I just leave it outside, that's just begging somepony to steal it.
No real choice here, I guess. I reach into the bag and withdraw a handful of bits. "Gray, stand guard," I say as I draw the bag closed and set it down next to the store's entrance. "I don't want anypony taking this."
Gray tilts her head. "Is that an order, or a suggestion?"
"Both," I say. "I'm suggesting an order."
"Nicely done," she answers with a smile, giving me a textbook salute and assuming a guard position next to the bag. "Aye-aye, ma'am."
I return her smile before setting foot in the store on my own, wondering all the while how she got her hoof to bend like that. After fighting those thieves last night it wasn't the first time I'd seen it happen, but it was still a mite strange.
...
Another pony flees the store in terror, but by and large they are all cooperative and opt not to raise a fuss. Guided by my scanners, I make a beeline for what is once again the candy and snacks aisle.
Lo and behold, the scanners were pointing me at Heartbreakers again. Two bags with the exact same design as the first one I'd purchased were sitting by their lonesome, surrounded by shelves of other candies that were both full and not giving me the same readings. I take them in my free hand, squinting at them as my optics zoomed in. There's actually a tiny bit of dust on the packaging that wouldn't be present if anypony had been rifling through them, telling me that they're not very popular. Makes sense, considering Gray's complaints from yesterday.
The clerk at the check-out is an odd case. Gray had made mention of griffons earlier, and I was under the impression that they were strictly a foreign species. But here's one anyway, working the register like he'd been doing it all his life. And more to the point, his beak has teeth in it. "Whoa," he utters on seeing me approach, eyeing my battle damage. "That's hardcore."
It's not the typical response to meeting a Reploid that I've experienced so far. It's honestly a bit refreshing. "Not as hardcore as seeing an eagle and a lion combined together," I say to him good-naturedly. "If you think this looks bad, you should see the other guy."
"I can't even imagine. First time seeing a griffon?" the clerk says as he rings up my purchase. "Name's Gilbert. I'm here because I'm trying to earn enough bits to send back to Griffonstone. Speaking of, you owe ten."
That's the first 'normal' name I've heard since I got here. I don't even bother counting off what I owe, instead just handing over all the money I'm currently carrying. "Ten bits. Keep the rest."
His eyes skip 'widening' and skip straight to 'bulging'. "Whoa-ho-ho, chillax there, lady! Calm down! Who in the world just gives this much away?" he asks, incredulous as he transfers the money to the register. "That's at least fifteen extra!"
"I didn't know how much these cost going in, and I just got done turning some thieves over to the Police," I tell him, waving off his shock. "I can afford it."
Gilbert skims over my damage with new appreciation, whistling. "Bounty hunter. That will do it. Well, don't let me keep you. Need a bag to carry those in? Or a receipt?"
"No to both. Thanks."
"No prob. So what are you? Never seen you here before."
"If you're willing to wait for the newspaper tomorrow, you'll probably get the whole story then," I tell Gilbert as I walk away. "Believe me. It's a good one."
"Not doubting that!" he calls, returning to his work as another customer approaches.
Well, he seemed nice enough. Without any strings attached, even. I'm not going to make any complaints; I'm just going to take this candy and leave before something ruins my good mood.
...
Oh, for... I forgot to ask him what 'chillax' meant. Sigh... well, too late now. I'll ask somepony about it later.
...
Given how much of an oddity Gray is, I can't bring myself to be surprised at what's happening right now.
At some point while I was in the store, she decided to take a nap while she was waiting. That's not the strange part. What is strange is that she's using my money bag as a pillow, resting her chin on top of it and hugging it close to her. There are a few ponies that are giving her odd looks instead of me. In fact, I can hear them talking:
"Is there something wrong with her, mom? Why is she cuddling with a Police bag? Is she a thief?"
"No, dear. She's just tired. But why is she sleeping on the street like this?"
"I've seen her before. She's the weird one. You know... the 'weird' one."
"Ohhhh. She's homeless. If I gave her a few bits, could she get a daisy sandwich so she won't go hungry?"
Yes, it's best if I nip this one in the bud. I stoop down and nudge Gray's shoulder. "Hey. Gray. I've bought what I needed, and you're attracting attention again. Time to go."
"Mmf... little lower, Ocean," Gray murmurs, holding on tighter to the money bag. "Back hurts, and you're the cure..."
I'm getting the feeling that I'm treading on very thin ice here. ...So, I nudge her again. "Gray, wake up," I say a little louder. "You're embarrassing us both, and this isn't funny. Do you still want to take me coat shopping, or do you just want to go home?"
Instead of giving me a straight answer, she's sleep-humming. "Go home along with me, the best is yet to be..."
"Ship!" an adolescent pony cat-calls somewhere nearby.
"Alright, that's one transportation cost I am not going to pay," I declare, frowning at what was either a sincere request that the two of us get together romantically, or just mockery for the sake of mockery. I silently curse at whoever it was in the distant past that first coined the term that the teenager used. Gray's nowhere even close to the type of individual I'd consider myself being with, she's already married, and given my aptitude for combat I'd just as soon be a Reploid without peer anyway.
Pier...?
Not. The time. For puns.
I wrack my mind for ideas as to how to wake up my guide. The one I decide on is one that most would probably consider immature, but would still be considered payback for the scare I got at the station. I press one of my fingers against Gray's muzzle. This causes her face to scrunch up at the contact, and she finally returns to reality. "Huh?... Wha?.. Oh. I'm awake, I'm awake," she murmurs semi-groggily, her eyes opening.
"I asked you to guard my reward money, not sleep on it." A half-smirk as I pull the money bag out from under her, place my purchase within it, and hoist it back on my shoulder. I didn't expect her face to make that shape. Cute. "Were you under my command, you'd be scrubbing the repair bays from top to bottom."
"But I like to sleep," Gray whines childishly, sticking her tongue out me. In a more normal tone, she continues: "Seriously, I do. I don't know why I do, but I do."
"Not my first choice for a hobby, but who am I to judge?" I gesture at those around us. "Break it up, ponies. Nothing more to see here."
...
It took a few tries to get them to clear away given my current state and their disinclination to listen, but with a bit of help from Gray we were finally able to get on our way without them following us. As we walk, I tear open one of my packages one-handed with the intent of seeing if I could bump my reserve tank up to 100%, or at least close to it.
Taking my time with one of the candies I close my eyes, shivering as my systems process the incoming energy. Something else to wonder about: is this going to be a regular thing each time I eat a Heartbreaker, or are my systems going to fully adapt to it at some point? It feels like I'm undergoing convulsions. I'll take it if it means keeping myself fed, but this is going to get real old, real fast--
Something presses against my nose. My eyes open, crossing as they see the dark-toned hoof leading back to my hovering guide. Off-handedly I notice that Gray's hoof is a slightly different color than the rest of her, but I set that aside for now. "...I was trying to wake you up without using force," I say, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. "What's your excuse?"
"Don't have one," Gray answers, landing beside me and resuming her walk. "I just wanted to see if your face would do the same thing as mine."
"Hn," I grunt disinterestedly, refusing to pursue that train of thought. I've made myself look foolish enough times today, so instead I continue working my way through the Heartbreakers. At least this way, I'm getting something accomplished.
Three minutes pass.
Four.
"Did it?"
"Sure did. I wish I had my camera. I didn't think metal was that flexible."
I don't need my HUD to tell me about the coolant building up in my face. Whose bright idea was it to give Reploids the ability to blush? And are there any mask sellers out there that would make me look like a genuine mannequin? These are questions that we all must ask ourselves everyday.
Or at least I must. Everyone's embarrassment is tailor-made for them, after all. Just how close are we to the fashion district, anyway?
Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Bank: 99% full. Estimate minimum of 7.3 days until replenishment of main supply is required, accounting for self-repair.
Well, it wasn't quite enough to get my reserves up to 100%, but 1% is negligible. Provided something disastrous doesn't happen, I won't need to worry about replenishment for a week. My auto-repair should be making some serious progress by then.
With that update aside, here is where I am now. The fashion district is several long streets worth of boutiques, specialty shops, and vendors that offer everything that ponies and other local species need to make themselves look 'fantastic', for a certain stretch of the word. It's a place where they can go if they're blue or otherwise don't know where to go to. This is where fashion sits in Manehattan.
"Fair warning," I tell Gray as we enter the district proper. "I don't know the first thing about fashion. I may need help through all the difficult segments."
"You identify as a girl, and you're clueless about clothes?" Gray scoffed. "And here I thought some things were universal."
"I didn't care in the slightest about fashion back home," I say in reply. "I mean, look at me. Helmet. Light armor. Vest. Arm guards. Boots. Bodysuit. This is my daily wear, Gray. Do I look like the type that's good at being pretty?"
"...Interestingly, I've been thinking about this since breakfast. I'm no expert in clothes myself," Gray answers skeptically, "but I'm pretty sure the term 'bodysuit' doesn't mean what you think it means."
"Far as I'm concerned, since it covers my whole body, it's a bodysuit. Let's not argue semantics." Work with me here, pony.
"Call it what you want. You're still wrong," Gray argues. "That's closer to a unitard."
"And this time you're wrong," I deny. "It's not skintight enough to be a unitard." Why are we having this conversation? I'm not seeing what the deal is with this.
"Well, it's sure not a bodysuit." Gray's being persistent here. Seriously, stop. "I was under the impression that bodysuits didn't cover the legs. Or arms, in your case."
"Again. It covers my whole body. It's a bodysuit." I fold my arms, trying to give the impression of 'this is how things stand, and nothing will change that'. "Official definitions can go hang."
Gray rolls her eyes. "You're just going to keep being difficult about this, aren't you? Fine. I'll ask somepony in the district who's in the know. Bet you five bits you're wrong."
"I don't need to gamble to know when I'm right about something, little pony," I retort. "Just drop it already."
"Sure, I'll drop it," Gray agrees. "Just so long as you admit you were lying about not caring about fashion."
"Lying?" I ask with a frown. "What are you talking about?"
"If you didn't care about fashion, then you obviously wouldn't care whether it was called a bodysuit or a unitard, would you?" Gray smiles victoriously. "Ha. Got you there."
Geh... "If that's how you're going to play this, then maybe I should've asked somepony else to be my guide," I pointed out. "Why should I trust you to help me around the fashion district if you don't wear clothes yourself?"
Gray flinches at this. "Ponies have natural coats, Leviathan. We have room to call clothes optional. And I'll have you know that I have a very nice and frilly lavender dress in my closet that I wear every anniversary. It gets compliments, it's still in fine condition, and it looks stylish. Since I picked it out myself, that makes me more qualified to judge fashion than you."
"I'd have to get confirmation from whoever it was that sold it to you before I'd believe that," I tell her firmly. "In any case, I wasn't lying. I seriously don't care that much about the topic. I just like to think that after having the exact same wardrobe for almost my entire life, I'd know just what it is I'm wearing."
A cute little horsey snort. ...'Horsey'? Maybe I should consider readjusting my priorities and looking for a way home before I'm fully repaired if I'm going to be using language like that. "Well, you don't," Gray says disapprovingly. "You can swear to Celestia if you want that you're wearing a bodysuit. That does nothing to change the fact that you're wearing a unitard and it means that you lied to the Princess."
"What it means is that I'm confident in what I'm wearing and I'm willing to stick to what it's supposed to be." I waggle a finger in denial--no, closer to refutation. That's more like it. It's a much better word. "Oaths and lying have nothing to do with it. It's a bodysuit, and nopony or no one is going to tell me otherwise."
Gray takes flight and hovers up to eye level, bringing me to a stop. "And yet that's what I'm doing anyway. The worst you can do to me is tell me I'm wrong, which I'm not. Taking a stand is all well and good if you have the know-how to back it up. If you don't, then you've done nothing but embarrass yourself in front of the entire community."
"Kind of hard to be embarrassed about being correct, Gray." I smirk, giving her the expression that I normally reserve only for potentially life-ending opponents. "Unless it's something that you preferred that you weren't correct about. You can stop arguing with me about this at any time."
"This isn't an argument," Gray denies. "It's a discussion. Arguments have a lot more yelling, nopony wants to admit they're wrong, and they typically end with everypony angry about things they really should not be angry about. So far we've only got one of those."
"You're being as logical as you can right now," I point out. "Isn't that technically an argument?"
"No."
"Oh? Why not?"
"You told me not five minutes ago that 'definitions can go hang'." There's a little smirk of her own on Gray's muzzle now. "Is that something else you're lying about?"
I don't know what's more amazing: that she's actually going through with this, or that I think I'm starting to have fun. "Well, if you're not presenting an argument, what would you call it then?"
"Just basic dialogue."
"Not quite, Gray. Basic dialogue is along the lines of 'Hello, how are you?' 'Oh, I'm fine. You?' 'The same, thank you.' Nothing too complex, unlike everything you've said up until now."
"What, like 'that's a unitard you're wearing'?"
"Yes, and just like 'no, that's a bodysuit I'm wearing'. That's complex dialogue, not basic."
"Sounds like 'basic' to me."
"It only seems like that, trust me. The truth is far more complicated."
"All a matter of definition, and we stopped caring about that a while back."
"No, I stopped caring about that. You're still trying to fight me with logic."
"Sounds like you're admitting that you calling that a bodysuit doesn't make sense. It's a unitard, Leviathan."
"You're not going to win this one. If I say it's a bodysuit, then it's a bodysuit."
...
...
A short ways down the street, two random ponies bemusedly listened to Gray and the creature bicker. "How long do you think they'll keep talking about absolutely nothing?" one said to the other.
"I'll say... fifteen minutes."
"I'm thinking closer to twenty."
"You're on. Let's check it out."
Our "discussion" was interrupted about twenty-one minutes later by the sound of coins hitting the sidewalk. We looked down to see six bits scattered around, and eight ponies watching us with wide eyes. "...What?" the both of us ask as one.
"Um..." one of the spectators speaks up after some hesitation. He smiles as he gains enough confidence to continue. "Your act was funny. How often are you in Manehattan?"
Gray looked at me, her face mirroring the confusion I was feeling. "Act...?" she mouthed.
I scan over the group's faces. They seemed to have been entertained by it all, so I hated to let them down like this, but... "Sorry, folks, but we didn't put this on for entertainment. Gray just doesn't want to admit that I know what I've been wearing for the last three decades."
"And Leviathan just doesn't want to admit that she doesn't," Gray added. I glance at her sideways, but she just smiles unapologetically.
"If I may, that was an incredibly smooth delivery for something unrehearsed," a pony with a very high-class demeanor comments. She's weighed down by two suitcases and a bulky carrying case of some kind on her back, though it doesn't look like it's bothering her. 'Earth pony', I remind myself. Nifty little bowtie she has there. "Imagine what you could do if you planned those out. Have you ever considered a career in vaudeville or similar?"
I give Gray a raised eyebrow... or at least try to, since they're both concealed under my helmet. She catches on to my confusion and quietly offers a quick definition of the term, leading me to shake my head. "Sorry, but no. I've got other plans, so I don't see myself walking the stage anytime soon." Or ever.
"The same," Gray adds. "I'm happy with my life as is. Thanks for the compliment, though."
The high-class pony smiles gracefully. "You're welcome. I had to ask."
The group dispersed, with those who had tried to donate bits reclaiming them before leaving. There were a few chuckles as they talked about what they had just seen. I huffed a little to myself. I'm not getting how something like my choice of clothing could be considered humorous by others.
I don't think these ponies are mind readers, but looking at my companion, one starts to wonder. "I guess we got a bit carried away there," Gray admitted, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck and giving me a chance to admire these creatures' flexibility. "Don't look so upset. You were enjoying yourself through all that. I can tell."
"...You're not wrong," I answer in the affirmative as I let her continue to lead me. The discussion itself had been fun, even if Gray's insistence on being wrong bordered on the ridiculous. "So, where to?"
The pegasus surveys the street we're on. "Hmm... last time I was here was a few months ago, and that was just to buy my earrings," she comments. "Not too familiar with what they're have, but I don't have to be. You can typically tell who they sell to with just a look..." She focuses on a two-story building a few doors down, its 'Open' sign indicating its status. "And there we go. Come on."
The advertisement posted behind the store's window display catches my attention immediately. I'm not unfamiliar with minotaurs, since Neo Arcadia's Mass Driver transportation team boasted a Reploid based on one (the fact that I have never met said Reploid notwithstanding). I do wish I could have seen it coming; we've had pegasi, unicorns and griffons so far, so having other mythological beings join in seems like a reasonable assumption to make in retrospect. I guess if they have to have bipeds here, minotaurs are an obvious pick.
The minotaur in the advertisement, assuming that's what they really look like and aren't just being exaggerated for the sake of the illustration, is appropriately well-built and is adorned with a suit jacket, shirt and tie. No pants, though I've concluded that they're available if they're really needed; one of the ponies watching my skit with Gray earlier was clearly wearing a set of trousers. I'm not delusional enough to believe I'm as stocky as one of these, but maybe finding something for me here won't be too hard...?
Octavia Melody took a look behind her one last time as she walked, seeing the pegasus follow her unnerving but ultimately benign partner into one of the specialty stores. Doesn't surprise me, she thought as she focused her eyes on the street ahead. Poor thing looked like she had been subjected to a pack of timberwolves. If something like that happened to me, I'd want to hide my wounds too.
She had gotten a letter back from Canterlot just a few days before, approving her for a new job there that would begin the following week. She'd taken action immediately, selling items she couldn't bring with her and finding a rental house in the town of Ponyville where she could practice in peace. Just this morning she had turned over her apartment key and her final month's rent to her superintendent, grabbed what she had packed and started her journey towards the train station to catch the next ride out. The impromptu performance by the two-legged creature and the strange pegasus had stalled her, but she figured she still had plenty of time to reach the station.
It's little things like that act that made life in Manehattan worth living. I'll miss having a residence here, but it's high time I closed that chapter of my life and moved on to the next. She smiled eagerly as she imagined what awaited her at her new job. Adjusting to a more quiet life in Ponyville feels a bit daunting, but I could use the solitude for practicing. I wonder what my landlord's like? Hopefully, whoever it is will be the understanding sort and won't complain about the constant noise too much.
...
Given that the store just opened, it's no shocker that there aren't any other customers in yet. So when the proprietor ducks through an office doorway into the store proper, there's nopony present to see how dilated my eyes are right now.
There's no doubt that who I'm looking at is the largest sapient biological entity that I've ever seen in my life. I make that distinction because I've seen a few whales that haven't yet gone extinct. You know how when people say "That's a lot of bull", they're typically using watered-down profanity? Not in this case: this is literally a lot of bull that I'm staring at.
The beast before me stands a full two hundred centimeters tall (or right around six feet and seven inches, depending on your measurements of choice), being the first one here I've met that was either eye level or higher. I'm really hoping that those massive arms are just for show, because they look like they could use wrecking balls as flails. Its fur is a crimson color, which shifts to maroon from the waist down. It walks on hooves, but it actually has hands on its arms--four-digit hands, but hands all the same.
And for reasons I don't understand, it's wearing a vest with a pair of wings stitched into the collar. It would probably be amusing if the one wearing it wasn't so intimidating.
"Welcome to The Big and Taur Shop," the minotaur rumbles. The voice is clearly female, but she sounds like she's mimicking an earthquake. "I work with two-legged folk and ponies who are too big for their britches. I'm the store owner, Bossa Nova. And you can shut your mouth at any time."
Gray reaches over and presses a hoof against my jaw, closing my mouth and bringing me back to my senses. "Sorry about Fairy. First time she's seen a minotaur in person."
"That's not an excuse for poor behavior," Bossa states disapprovingly. "Just because I am tall for my race doesn't give either of you carte blanche to stare." She inspects me for a time, either judging me personally or my damaged attire. Either way, it feels like a giant spotlight's shining down on me. If I had the glands for it, I'd be sweating right now. "I can see why you're here. An Ursa Minor must have tried to maul you recently. Are you looking for someone to mend your suit?"
Gray twitches at this. Before she can continue our 'discussion', I recover enough of my decorum to give Bossa a proper answer. "I can handle that on my own, but thank you," I tell her. My suit and armor are both made of materials that my auto-repair system recognizes, so it can handle that along the way. "I'm actually in the market for a coat, preferably in a shade of blue and long enough to reach my boots. Other than that, I'm not partial. I'm also looking for a purse large enough to hold what's left of my money after my business here is done."
"Then let me get your measurements and we'll work something out for you." Bossa summons a measuring tape from somewhere and beckons for me to follow her. "This way."
While the minotaur's working with me and writing things down, Gray's persistence wins out. She hovers over the dressing room door to make herself visible; not really the sort of thing one should do in most circumstances, but since I'm only getting measured and not trying on everything in the store, I decided to let it pass. "Got a question for you that's been bugging me all morning. That uniform that Fairy's wearing: what would you call that? She calls it a bodysuit, but I think it's more of a unitard."
"Remove that giant wristband you're wearing," Bossa 'instructs' me. With her voice it feels more like an 'order', but I think 'instruct' was what was intended. "Let me see your arm."
Obligingly, I detach one of my arm guards for Bossa to see what's underneath.
The minotaur makes a circle around me, humming thoughtfully, then pinches the fabric on my wrist. "Be honest with Bossa. Does the material on your hands feel like a second skin?"
"No," I say. "I'd describe it as more of a thin glove."
"In which event you're both wrong," she tells us bluntly. "It's unusual in that your outfit covers your hands and presumably your feet, but it's not as form-fitting as a unitard and it doesn't have the structure of a proper bodysuit. It would be more accurate to call this a jumpsuit."
Aaaand just like that, we've been subject to an artillery strike. Some would probably continue to argue the point, but as for me personally, it doesn't make sense to argue with someone who far out-masses me (at least in a non-combat situation). Gray and I trade defeated eyes as I re-equip my arm guard. "Well, I did tell you earlier that I knew next to nothing about fashion..."
"That makes two of us."
"So instead of the 'pick what you like' phase, we'll head straight for the 'Bossa picks for you' phase," the owner decides. There's just nothing about her that's upbeat. "I've narrowed down my choice to twelve different possibilities. Would you be inclined to buy a hat with your coat?"
"I'll just stick with my helmet, thank you."
"Seven possibilities. Short sleeves or long?"
"Long."
"Four possibilities. Lightweight material, or fit for winter?"
"Lightweight."
"Two possibilities. And you've already said that you prefer it in blue, so that leaves only one choice. Follow me, please," Bossa requests 'politely', exiting the dressing room and pulling me with her. Again, wrecking balls as flails.
...
It amazes me that she was able to decide so quickly what I needed. I'm wondering if that was a fluke, or if Miss Musclebound has a good head for this...
...because the coat she's pulled off a rack and showing to me looks like it'll fit me perfectly. The color's perfect, the length is ideal, the sleeves are just roomy enough to accommodate my arm guards, and... getting permission to try it on here, excuse me a moment... yes. It's neither too snug nor too loose. This, I decide, will be my souvenir when I go home.
Sensing my satisfaction, Bossa leads me to a small section of the store where assorted purses, handbags, and... uh... "Gray, what's the equivalent of these for ponies?"
"Saddlebags."
Right, those. Anyway, there's a decent selection of carrying cases here. I appraise their sizes and carrying capacity, thinking carefully about how much is in the Police bag before selecting one. My choice is less of a pink purse and more of a puce shoulder bag, but a lot of money deserves a lot of space. It's the only color for this size available, and I'd rather not be too picky.
...
"I have to say," I comment when we arrive at the front counter, Bossa stepping behind it to total up my acquisitions. "I'm very impressed with your efficiency. This didn't take anywhere near as long as I'd feared."
The only response I received was a noncommittal grunt. Seriously, I'm trying to pay you a compliment here.
"We didn't catch you on a bad day, did we?" Gray wonders. "I mean, we could have just come back another time."
The minotaur sighs heavily, folding her arms. "Don't want to give false impressions, so listen to me. I hate this job. I hate everything that goes with it. Just because you like what you're buying doesn't make me any happier. I am only in this line of work because arm wrestling doesn't pay the bills. Had I the choice, I would turn this shop over to another."
"Arm wrestling?" I gently ask.
"Yes." Bossa smiles for the first time since we walked in, and it doesn't take perfect vision to see the pride on her face. "Back in my homeland, there is a yearly series of competitions that revolve around strength and ingenuity, with the overall winner receiving a tidy sum and plenty of prestige. As you can figure, arm wrestling is one of those events. I've been a first- or second-place finisher for the past five years." The smile fades to a frown. "But there are few here in Equestria who are willing to challenge me. They are either scared of me or of my strength, but either way they are scared of failure. It leaves me with little to do but run this shop to make ends meet. I have no choice but to be familiar with what I sell, customer. Am I good at this? Yes. Do I enjoy it? No."
...Well. Put it that way, I feel kind of bad for thinking of her as just a brute with a brain. "Two weeks," I say as an idea pieces itself together.
Gray's eyes widen, and Bossa perks up. "What's this, now?"
"Two weeks. That's my best estimation for when I'll be fully recovered," I tell her, trying to hide a measure of eagerness. It won't be like fighting Zero by any means, but I'll take it anyway. It isn't as if searching for a way home is going to take all of my time, is it? I could use the challenge. "I can't do anything about your job, but I can at least make it somewhat more bearable."
Bossa seems almost hopeful, but then she deflates. "Bossa admires your enthusiasm but pities your scrawniness. How much effort can you really put in?"
"How much effort does it take to send somepony flying through deep water?" I ask. "You might be reading about it eventually, but I'll tell you now: I'm a warrior by nature. What sort of warrior would I be if I didn't have confidence in my strength? Give me two weeks to return to full power." I look her in the eyes and grin. "Arm wrestling might not be my idea of a good time, but I'm still willing to give it a go."
I raise my hand towards Bossa for her to shake, and she slams her hand against it. The glass in the window display rattles a little, but my arm doesn't budge. "You never formally introduced yourself, challenger," she rumbles, smirking as she puts emphasis on the term. "Who will I be pitting myself against?"
"Fairy Leviathan. The Siren General of Neo Arcadia's Deep Sea Squadron."
"Accepted. Two weeks time, ten in the morning, outside of this shop. Be here." Bossa lets go of my hand, dropping her smirk as she gets back to business. "As for your purchase, the coat and the shoulder bag total 700 bits together. Judging from that sack you're carrying, I can only assume you have enough..."
It takes some time to count off what I owe, but between the three of us it doesn't take as long as it normally would have. When I leave the shop it's with an empty Police bag in my hand, a replacement on my shoulder, the remainder of my reward money and Heartbreakers contained in said replacement, and a lovely ocean-blue buttoned-up coat hiding the worst of my injuries from the world.
I wish I had a clever one-liner for this situation, but none comes to mind. I'll just be happy with what I have and be done with it.
Gray wants to head for a different store, this time to do a bit of her own shopping. I don't want to keep this money longer than I have to, so this time it's me in the tagalong role. On the way, the sneaky cat decides that she wants more information on me. "Got another question, Fairy. Have you ever removed your helmet in your life?"
"No. As a combat Reploid, I must always be ready to fight at a moment's notice. Why?"
Gray just looks inquisitive at this. "I was looking at it and wondering if Reploids have manes of their own, is all."
"Depends on the Reploid and what they're modeled after," I explain. "If they're based on animals, they usually don't. Those that more closely resemble our creators are given a full head of hair depending on design choices. Artificial hair, yes, but still hair." Please don't ask me further, please don't ask me further---
"Have you ever wondered what your hair looks like?"
...Blast it. "Not often, Gray. Unlike some who obsess over their hair, I don't consider it a concern. I've always had higher priorities to deal with, and I'm not inclined to think about it now."
Gray doesn't press the topic, shrugging and falling silent as we continue walking. Silently, I'm relieved. I've had a few casual conversations over the years, and at least two of them have delved into the topic of how I look without my helmet. It's true that I've had a multitude of other concerns, but it's also true that part of me's afraid to look in a mirror, remove my helmet, and view that aspect of my appearance firsthand. The one time I contemplated checking, I just stood there with my hands near my head for two full minutes before finally just giving up. I couldn't bring myself to do it.
If I'm ever going to find out it'll be while I'm here in Equestria, but the trick will be forcing myself to go through with it. When I'm back in Neo Arcadia, the time for such trivialities will be gone, and I'll never get that chance again.
Contrary to what I said, I'll have to think about it later.
With my primary business taken care of, we made a detour back to the Police station to drop off the bag they'd given me. The taxi driver, like so many others, didn't know what to make of me and was a bit creeped out. He was just as happy to receive a few bits for the transportation cost from us as he would from anypony else, so he didn't linger on it for long. I just wish the carriage's ceiling had been a little higher.
Afterwards, I debated with Gray for a little bit as to whether I should go back to the theater after she was done with her shopping. That journalist was probably done interviewing Drama by now, and while he was likely to find me sooner or later, I thought it best to just get it over with so I could put myself back in hibernation. I wasn't keen on just staying awake the entire time my auto-repair was active.
Gray informed me in response that this particular journalist--Buried Lede, now that I remember his introduction--was never satisfied with one or two interviews: his modus operandi was to talk to as many of those involved in a given situation as possible for the sake of completeness. This meant not just me and Drama, but also those who took up the latter's call to chase me, those two ponies who delivered me to the theater, the officers who arrested the Midnight Castle gang, and most likely Gray herself. Assuming Lede didn't find me before any of them, I would be waiting for quite a while.
...And it was at this point that Gray realized something important: she didn't have her saddlebags with her. With a sheepish and apologetic smile she disappeared in a, erm, ghostly blur. It took a second for me to realize that her leaving the smile behind her was just a trick of the light.
I've said it a few times already, so I'm not going to say it again right now.
Which leaves me where I am at the moment: sitting on a bench partway down the block from the station, waiting for the absent-minded pegasus to return and watching the morning traffic. Just 'chilling', to use a bit of slang.
I really wish the benches were bigger, but there's nothing I can do about that. Like everything else in this city, they were made with ponies in mind. I'd say that I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, but those digits are in short supply. Gray, where are you?
Down the block, a magic mint-colored unicorn visiting the city for the sake of tourism paused in mid-step. Her eyes took in Leviathan's presence, her posture as she relaxed. But where most ponies would've tread cautiously around an alien being, or ignoring her at best, only one thing was on the unicorn's mind.
Huh, she mused as she continued about her business. I wonder if I could do that. I'll have to try that on the way home.
Everything has to start somewhere.
"Mom, mom! What's that?"
I wince as I hear a foal question its mother loudly. This isn't for its volume so much as it was asking "What's that" instead of "who". Yet another difference between home and here: people at least knew better than to refer to Reploids as "whats". Ponies don't know that true inorganic life exists yet.
"I... I don't know, Butterscotch. I don't think we should be near it."
"Why?"
"Just... just listen to your momma, okay? Let's keep away from the giant whatever-it-is..."
"The 'giant whatever-it-is' can hear you," I comment before they get too far away, not turning my sight away from the road.
I paid no mind to the yelp that went off behind me, or the galloping as the pony fled. Provided that the journalist does his job appropriately, she'll find out all about me tomorrow. I won't be able to do anything about her fright, but that's all on her. It's up to her if she wants to be scared of me or not, much as I don't like it.
"Mom?" the foal's voice calls. "Where'd you go? ...Mom?"
...Oh for the love of... she ran off and accidentally left her child behind? I can't exactly ignore that. Fluctuating social skills, don't fail me now. I get up and approach the little orange foal, who--to his credit--doesn't try to run away. I kneel down and try to get as close to eye level as reasonably possible without going prone. "Excuse me, little one?"
"Yes, whatever you are?"
Ah, childhood innocence. A shame that the real world has to mess it up royally eventually. "Is that..." Hmm... well, I can't think of a better word to use, so... "...normal for your mother?"
The foal nods glumly. "Mom's not good with other ponies. Or whatever you are." He quickly continues speaking when he sees my uncertainty. "But she'll come back to get me! She will!"
Several other ponies are watching the scene, so I try to avoid making any movements towards the foal that could be remotely construed as threatening. Instead of picking him up, I stand just long enough to walk back to the bench. "We'll wait here for her to come back, then. Is that okay?"
"I dunno," the foal answers. "Mom tells me I shouldn't be talking to strangers..."
"And your mother's very smart." I turn my head towards the on-lookers. "You three? I would like for you to watch me so that I don't try anything funny with this child. His mom will be back soon to get him, and I don't want any complaints from her."
But it looks as if even though I won't get complaints from the mother, I'll be getting complaints nonetheless. "I, uh... forgot to wash my mane this morning," one of them says. "Each hair. Individually. Yeah."
"I'm a day sleeper," the second one lies. Seriously, it doesn't take superb hearing to detect your rapid heartbeat. "I was just on my way home."
"You two should be ashamed of yourselves," the third one speaks up harshly---
"Not stopping to guard this young one from the dangers of the city streets, solely because a complete stranger intimidates you?" the earth pony continues. I recognize her now: she was that aged customer that Turkey Bowl was talking to at the store yesterday. "I might not know why the creature's acting the way it is, but I do know this: there's minding your own business, and there's throwing somepony to the wind through illegitimate excuses. You're both better than that. I know it."
Wow. That's what you get when you combine "well" and "now". Both of those who had tried to lie their way out of helping me look chastised by her words, ears turned down and regarding the ground awkwardly. The foal is confused by what's going on, but after a moment he decides that things will be okay after all and rushes over to the bench to join me on my right.
While the two ponies keep their distance, the third clambers up on my left. There's a strange feeling I'm getting just from looking at her: it's as if just by being present, she's affirming that she can be counted on for anything and everything. Physically, while she has the same general build as most of the ponies I've seen, her age is showing in the glasses she wears, wrinkles on her face and slightly decreased musculature. "I saw you yesterday," she tells me with zero fear and all the politeness in the world. "Fairy Leviathan, I presume? I'm Charity Kindheart. That nice stallion Turkey Bowl was telling me about you yesterday."
I nod and smile politely. "Hopefully nothing outlandish."
"Just a bare-bones description of your history, dear. How are things faring for you? Do you have someplace to stay?..."
...
I'm experiencing a stark difference in personalities here. Gray is nice enough, I suppose, but there's always something at the edge of her voice that gives an air of unpredictability and mischievousness. Drama Heart is a similar case in that she's constantly fighting to keep her enthusiasm and drive under control.
There's no underlying struggle to Charity's words. Her concern is completely genuine, without any ulterior motivates that would color it. In a world full of nothing but shades of gray, hers would be so bright that it couldn't safely be called 'gray' anymore. I'm almost wondering what my situation would be like right now if she had been the one to talk to me in that alley instead of the sneaky cat.
Like both Gray and Drama, she has a certain fondness for the arts. Unlike them, she possesses a philanthropic streak a kilometer wide. Most notably, she channeled her enjoyment into a festival that she held for the sake of making her neighbors better ponies. I say 'held' instead of 'holds' because just three weeks ago, Charity received word that her oldest child elsewhere in Equestria was pregnant with twins. The bulk of her time since then was spent trying to find a buyer for her residence, intending to leave Manehattan and join her family.
As of now she hasn't found a buyer yet, and she's anxious to be there for her grandfoals once they're born. Would that I could help her out, but if you've been following my memories from the beginning, then you know my situation by now. I don't want to let myself get tied to this city to the point where I don't want to go home, and I don't know what I would do with an entire manor to myself anyway. When she heard this she was disappointed but understanding, and she was pleased to hear that I do at least have some shelter and sustenance.
"Shinyyyy!"
I'm still talking to Charity, so the foal's spontaneous exclamation isn't immediately triggering anything more than a subdued double-take. "Hm? Yes?"
The foal's pointing at my helmet. "It's shiny!" He scrambles up my arm to my shoulder, trying to get a closer look. "I can see my face in it!"
Okay, I don't know how much longer I can resist cooing at the sheer cuteness of his species. "Of course it is. I just had it washed yesterday," I joked.
"Can I try it on?" the foal begs. "Can I?"
My smile weakens somewhat as my earlier discussion with Gray comes back to mind. "I'm sorry, but I think it might be a little bit too big for you."
"Aww..."
"Foals will be foals, dear," Charity comments on seeing the young one's disappointment. "Why not let him have his fun?"
I sigh quietly. "I don't know if I want to talk about it, Kindheart. It's... a trifle embarrassing."
"I hope I'm not speaking out of turn," one of the two bystanders interrupts. He seems emboldened by the fact that I'm having a peaceful conversation with these ponies. Charity must really be something else, I suppose. "...But you're not having a bad mane day, are you?"
Part of me wants to stay quiet, but I turn that down. If I don't say anything, they're just going to assume that it is because my hair's an utter mess that I'm keeping my helmet on. "Ladies and stallions both large and small," I confess, directing a tiny smile at the foal as I say those last few words, "...I have absolutely no idea."
All four are showing surprise in their own ways, but it's the foal who expresses it verbally. "You don't know if you have a mane? How can you not know that?"
"It's easy," I tell him, phrasing my reply in a way he can easily understand. "Just have somepony put a helmet on your head and never take it off for your entire life." To the others, I add: "Do you get where I'm going with this? I don't even know what my hair looks like, so how could I know whether it's messed up or not? And if you want to know more about that, read tomorrow's news." I'm starting to get tired of saying that last bit.
Charity rests a hoof on my arm, and I flinch at the contact. She's not Drama Heart, I remind myself, forcing myself to settle. "I promise to you that we won't scream and run away regardless of your hair condition," she reassures me. "I'm sure you look just fine for who you are."
"I wanna see!" the foal proclaims. "I wanna see! Oh, and I wanna wear your helmet, too! Please?"
"It's not any of you that I'm worried about upsetting," I answer, my voice starting to waver. How do I even begin to explain this to them? "It's me."
"Don't feel that you have to be afraid of yourself, dear," Charity tells me... well, kindly, adjusting her glasses. "Unless there's something about yourself that you're not telling us, then there's no reason to think that you're ugly in any way, shape or form."
I never talked about my dilemma with anyone, so this is the first time that anyone's tried to talk me into it. And the more I try to come up with a good reason not to, the more I realize that she's right. Being fearful of my physical appearance is really silly. My battle damage is one thing, as at least there I have a good reason to hide it. But something as mundane as my hair? It's not like I have snakes growing out of my scalp.
...Right?
Leviathan, stop making excuses for yourself and just do it already. You're not Medusa.
I move my hands up to my helmet, pausing when they touch the edge. "I would just like to go on record," I state, "as saying that this is one of the most difficult things I've had to do in my life." Having finished speaking, I press my hands more firmly against the helmet and push upwards slowly, careful not to let the fins hit either Charity or the foal on accident.
From: Gray Ghost, a humble housewife
To: Princess Celesita
We've got an unbeliever here. Would a brief display of power be too much to ask for?
---------
From: Celestia
To: Gray Ghost
Certainly. Give me a few minutes to get away from the throne room. Also, you misspelled my name.
----------
From: G.G.
To: P.C.
I'm in a hurry, and I'm nearly out of ink. Give me a break.
The mother had gotten two blocks away when she realized that she was alone, and that had frightened her more than the whatever-it-was's ability to speak. "Butterscotch?" she called, looking around her and checking down the block to see if her foal was trying to catch up. "Butterscotch, where are you?"
No response. Whining anxiously, she whirled and galloped back down the street, not taking the time to catch her breath. Her only thought was to retrieve her child and get out of there.
When she got close enough to see where her foal was, the sight she returned to almost made her collapse in relief. Butterscotch was sitting on the weird two-legged creature's shoulder, their respective expressions showing that he was in no real danger; Charity Kindheart, of all ponies, was interacting with her calmly while several others looked on. Good, he's safe and we've got ponies watching them. I think I almost had a heart attack there...
She slowed down to a stop and got to work getting her breathing under control. As she did, she listened to Charity, Butterscotch and the creature talk about the state of the latter's mane, of all things. She wasn't a good judge of anything that wasn't another pony, but the creature seemed very expressive... and reluctant. Finally it reached up to its helmet and carefully removed it from its head.
Unknown to the mother, the vast bulk of the damage Leviathan was suffering was below her neck. Her helmet was marred but whole, and it had done a more than adequate job of protecting what lay beneath.
And what lay beneath was a soft and frizzy wave of a mane, barely any different in coloration from her helmet. The locks just grazed her shoulders when released, descending no further. With them visible, 'whatever-it-is' seemed like an entirely different entity... though the white plates where her ears should have been were unappealing.
The stranger gestured for Butterscotch to relocate to the bench, then it gently placed the helmet over him; he was bigger than it was, but not by much, and it engulfed him up to his flanks. "Look at me! I'm a turtle!" he declared, undeterred. Hunkering down and trying to fit as much of himself inside of it as he could, he began inching around on the bench. The helmet's fins made it awkward to navigate by their size, but he didn't let that stop him. "Crawl, crawl, crawl..."
The mother couldn't help laughing at his antics, which succeeded in getting everypony's attention. She froze when she realized that by 'everypony', this included the creature too. A soft "oh" escaped the mother's lips as she fought her flight instinct from having all of their focus on her.
To her relief, the creature didn't leave her seat. "That was quick," it said instead. "I wasn't sure if it would be necessary to chase after you, but you went and saved us the trouble."
"...I'm terribly sorry," the mother stated, shamefaced. "I realized that you were alive, and I panicked. Please don't be mad at me!"
...
I was hoping to only hear those words from someone I had made an enemy out of, not a worried parent. "I understand. Just please, for his sake, don't let it happen again. I'm not saying this to be mean, but I'm not a babysitter. Much as I'd like to, I can't safeguard everypony."
Shyly, she tries to look me in the eyes. She looks me in the chin instead, but at least she tried. "He, um... didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
"Actually, he was very well-behaved," I tell her kindly, smiling. "You're doing a fine job raising him. Keep up the good work, citizen."
I didn't use those words often, so I don't remember how effective they typically were. On the plus side they seemed to work with her, considering her straighter posture. "Th... thank you. I'll try. Butterscotch, could you give the nice mare her helmet back?"
It takes about half a minute for her to convince the foal to return my headwear. That's also how long it takes for me to dismiss the image of myself as a pony from my mind.
After they leave, I don't have time to continue speaking to Charity before the one I'd been waiting for says 'hello' as only she can. "So this is what happens to you without an escort."
Charity jerks, startled, but this time I'm able to keep from jumping at my guide's abrupt return. The pony's hovering close by, alighting on the pavement as I greet her. "Hello to you too, Gray. What took you so long? Fall asleep again?"
"I leave you alone for twenty minutes," Gray deadpans, ignoring my question. "Twenty. Minutes. And already you've got somepony's foal trying to steal your helmet. You're pathetic."
"Not as pathetic as the one who forgot her bags and left to get them while the shopping trip was in progress," I retort, a smirk tugging at one corner. My helmet's left off for now, but I'm keeping a hold of it in case some common thief---or another foal---gets it into their heads to try and take it.
"Touché," my guide admits, her temperament back where it belongs. "I'm kidding. So that's what you look like without that dome over your head, huh? I was half-expecting you to be a blonde."
A raised eyebrow, and this time it's visible to everypony's eyes. "And why is that?"
"Because in some circles, blondes have a reputation for ditziness," Gray explains. "You might be a veteran fighter with a serious demeanor, but you can be a complete dumb-dumb sometimes, too."
"Not sorry to disappoint you," I say, brushing one of my bangs before my eyes. Artificial or natural, the strands drift like the ocean all the same and shine with a similar hue. I don't know whose idea it was to make the tips white, but it was a nice touch. I'm glad I let those two convince me to do this. "From the looks of things, I'm a blunette."
"I'm obviously no expert on this, but those who constructed you did a thorough job," Charity commented, squinting at me for a few seconds. "An average mane has upwards of 100,000 individual hairs. If your race has the same amount..." She shrugged helplessly. "I can't begin to fathom just how much work it would take just to bring them all together. It all looks so real. Nothing like what you would see on something hoofmade."
A hoorah for advanced machinery. "It does, doesn't it?" I agree for the lack of anything better to say. "It means I save plenty---" The shadows on the ground are lengthening. I repeat: the shadows on the ground are lengthening. "---of money on shampoo, and what the blue blazes is going on here?"
“Up there!” one of the two on-lookers blurts out fearfully. “It's the sun! Why's it going crazy like that?!”
I squint up at the sky...
“EHHHH?!”
...to see the most surreal thing I have ever seen in my life. And I've seen a lot in the past 24 hours, believe me. The sun is dropping towards the Manehattan skyline at a rate I hadn't even thought possible. But it doesn't stop there, oh no: just as it vanishes behind the buildings, it returns to its prior position at double the original rate of speed. A brief pause, and then it drifts around in a pattern that I could have sworn was handwriting. It repeats the pattern in case I didn't catch it the first time, then resumes its regularly scheduled orbit as if nothing had happened.
“Was...” Another pedestrian can be heard muttering. “Was the sun saying 'hello'? That looked like a 'hello'.”
Gray blinks a few times to get what's probably a swarm of spots out of her eyes as she looks up at the sun. "Huh," she says with no concern at all. "Guess the Princess must be pranking somepony again. I wonder what poor snob got her attention this time. Maybe that nephew of hers."
"You've met the Princess?" Charity inquires wonderingly, with equal parts dissatisfaction at Gray's overly-familiar tone and surprise that she could still witness strange events at her age.
As for me, my voice seems to be stuck as a high-pitched squeak at the moment, so I can't continue expressing my own surprise appropriately. There's some recalibration in order this evening.
"Went to Canterlot on a trip once as a foal," Gray says, smiling wistfully. "If you want my personal opinion, she's more of a flake than ponies think she is."
...
Alright, that does it. Between everything my guide telling me turning out true and her good-naturedly insulting her own monarch as if she knew her personally, I can't take this anymore. I'll logic this out later. Switching to Standby.
...
...
Gray and Charity jerked in surprise as Leviathan's squeak cut off. The Reploid slumped forward, her expression dazed as her momentum almost carried her off the bench. Her eyes slid closed as she went still.
As one, everypony who had witnessed the last few minutes turned to look at Gray, their expressions ranging from light disapproval (Charity) to outright glares. The pegasus tilted her her head a few degrees to her left, her smile bewildered. "What?"
Ebony was in the kitchen browsing the cupboards, looking for something she could have for lunch in a little while, when she heard the distant sound of wingbeats. She glanced up to make sure the window was open, and nodded on seeing it was. "Never hurts to be prepared," she said to herself as she closed the cupboard---
Thump."Ow!"
"...But apparently I wasn't prepared enough!" she griped, turning and trotting into the master bedroom. She opened the window and pulled Gray inside. "The one day I remember to keep that open for you, you choose not to take it!"
"Sorry, dear," Gray apologized meekly. "I approached from the wrong angle and didn't see it. May I have a cold washcloth, please?"
...
"So what happened?" Ebony questioned her once they settled into the living room. "I thought you were going to spend the day watching what's-her-name."
"I was, but we got hit with a curveball," Gray answered. "You ever read about the Midnight Castle gang in the papers? Well, they broke into Sally's theater last night."
Ebony's ears turned down as this sunk in. She didn't like Salamandra very well due to her fondness for puppetry and bombastic presentations, but nopony deserved to have their home broken into. "Is she alright?"
"Far as I can tell. She was talking to Mr. Lede from the Minutes when I got there, and she was more annoyed by the mess in the lobby than anything else. Seems Leviathan was a bit busy doing some late-night bounty hunting: she caught the thieves before they could escape with anything."
"...What?"
Gray started to launch into a lengthy explanation, then thought better of it. "Abridged notes: Leviathan gave the thieves to the cops, Sally sent her to the station this morning to collect the bounty on them, I chased after her to give her a tour of Manehattan, and she bought a nice coat for protection's sake. I'll spare you the details until tomorrow's paper."
Ebony stared at her mother dumbly. "Huh," she uttered eloquently. "So if you were giving her a tour, why'd you come back here? I thought you were going to be out all day."
"Didn't have much choice," Gray admitted, removing her saddlebags with her free hoof. "I had to take Fairy back to the Pyre. After that little stunt with the sun, she refused to wake up for anything. So after that I went to buy a few things for myself and went home early."
"Little stunt---" Ebony gave a start as she realized something. "Wait, was that why it got so dark in here for a second?"
"The Princess was pranking somepony," Gray said as if that explained everything.
Ebony's mouth hung open. "Wha...! Mom, don't just say that so casually! She has to have higher class than that!"
Gray stretched a bit, then flopped onto her side with a thump. By coincidence Echo was stretched out in the same position on the back of the couch, albeit without a washcloth of his own. "Nothing like a bit of levity now and then to hearten somepony. Imagine that you have to work for 14 hours everyday. Wouldn't you get bored with the monotony from time to time?"
"Well yeah, but I'm just your average unicorn," Ebony protested, sitting down normally. "This is Equestria's ruler we're talking about here! She's supposed to be above those juvenille pranks!"
"Equestria's ruler she may be, but she's still a pony," Gray managed to say around a yawn. "A pony with her own thoughts and feelings. Even she wants some fun now and then, I'm sure. As long as she doesn't accidentally give anypony heart attacks with those 'little stunts', then what's the harm?"
A flicker of worry. "...Did anypony actually get heart attacks?"
"I'm sure the Manehattan Minutes would be all over it if they did. As for any cases outside the city, I couldn't tell you. I'll keep my ears to the ground, but I'm sure there aren't any problems. It isn't as if this is the first time she's done something like this."
"Don't you usually keep your ears to the ground anyway?" Ebony asked, eyebrow raised.
Gray worked out what her daughter was trying to say before rolling her eyes. "I mean in the sense that I'll listen for rumors and scuttlebutt. I don't sleep that much."
"Sixteen hours of sleep a day isn't sleeping that much?"
The pegasus snorted softly. "My daughter's a comedian," she grumbled good-naturedly. "Step closer so I can swat at you."
"That didn't work the first six times you tried that," Ebony said in refusal, eyes half-closed. "It's not going to work the seventh."
A chuckle. "I had to try. Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that you can have all the decorum and elegance in the world, but stress and exhaustion can still get the better of you. If you don't find some means of relaxing, it's very possible to work yourself to death. That's something a lot of ponies here struggle with: they focus so much on earning bits to the exclusion of everything else that they end up suffering burnout. It almost happened to me once or twice with the Police. It wasn't fun."
Ebony had heard her mother talk about her short-lived career with the Royal Police a few times, and the stories had never stopped enthralling her no matter how many times she heard them. She got the sense that this particular story didn't have anything happy about it, however, so she didn't press Gray for details. Instead, she asked: "What about the ma---...I mean, Leviathan? What was it about the Princess moving the sun that she had trouble coping with?"
"Well, assuming she wakes up and lets Buried Lede interview her," Gray said, shrugging as best as she could from her current position, "I guess we'll find out tomorrow. I got the gist of it earlier, but some extra context never hurts." Her tail twitched in mild irritation. "I wish your father and siblings didn't have to come back to this. I don't know whether Manehattan as a whole's going to like her, fear her, hate her, or just outright go gonzo. Whatever happens, we're going to be caught up in the storm."
"I don't suppose you could extend my grounding for a while more, could you?" Ebony joked weakly, her face unsure.
It didn't take a logical thought process to figure out what was on the young mare's mind. "I understand you're afraid of her, dear, but sooner or later you're going to end up crossing paths with her again. No matter how good a job I do, I can only delay that meeting, not prevent it. And the rest of the family doesn't share your fear, so they're probably going to end up wanting to meet her. No, my stance is the same: your grounding ends tomorrow night."
Really not looking forward to that appointment. "Double crud," she murmured weakly.
"Why double?"
"Bad dream last night," Ebony explained, shivering. "I was trotting through Bronclyn on a foggy day, and mannequins that looked like Leviathan were being tossed at me out of windows, and over fences..."
Gray's muzzle twisted in concern. "Okay, I'll admit that's disturbing. I didn't hear you scream at all this morning, so I'm guessing it ended on a better note?"
"Yeah, but it was kind of weird," Ebony stated. She was able to smile, but it only came off as bemused. "One of the mannequins broke a fence on the way over, and I used the post to defend myself. The last clear memory I have was me rampaging down the street with the post in my magic, spinning and twirling it like some sort of baton and smacking away anything that got too close. I still wouldn't call it a good dream since those things were still there, but it beats a full-on nightmare."
"So otherwise it would have been a 'triple crud', then?"
"Yeah."
Gray idly swatted at a few dust particles that hung in the air just out of her reach. "Well, just remember that this doesn't mean you can smash Leviathan with a two-by-four when you meet her, alright? I don't think she'd appreciate that."
Ebony refused to entertain that thought, moving to change the subject. "So anyway, what did you buy?"
"Some envelopes, extra inkwells and a few new quills." Gray sat up, smiling. "I have a pen pal now!"
"Huh." Ebony matched her smile, interested. "Any idea who it is?"
"Well, whoever wrote it called themselves 'Princess Celestia'..." What?! "...but that's obviously a pseudonym." ...Oh. "I mean, there's no reason the real Princess would want to write to kooky little ol' me. She's probably got tons of princess-y things to do instead. I'm guessing they just picked that name to show that the writer lives in Canterlot." Gray looked up at the ceiling. "I wonder if I should start calling myself Countess Coloratura? You know, just to show that I'm from Manehattan?"
"I'd rather you didn't," Ebony said following an annoyed sigh. "That leaves a bad impression of you. Sapphire Shores' music clearly rocks more than Coloratura's."
"Well, somepony likes the Countess's music," Gray pointed out. "Otherwise she wouldn't be such a hit."
"I'm not talking about this, Mom." Ebony got up as she spoke, her irritation hiding her desire to get back to what she'd been doing when Gray returned. "I'm going to figure out what to make for lunch. Want me to call you when it's ready?"
"Sure. Thank you, Ebony."
...
As Ebony returned to her business, Gray picked up her saddlebags and strolled into her room, kicking the door shut behind her. After setting aside her purchases she grabbed a legal-sized sheet of paper out of a small cabinet. Eager to get her thoughts across, she settled onto her bed, grasped a quill pen with her mouth and got down to the business of writing, using one of her horror novels as a flat surface.
All the while she counted herself thankful that both her daughter and her husband were such good cooks. The last time she tried baking cornbread, the superintendent had made her sign an affidavit promising that she would never do it again.
Fifteen minutes later...
...
There are days when I loathe being bogged down with work and desire nothing more than a break. Then there are days when I'm reminded that I really need to be careful what I ask for.
It had been relatively quiet in Canterlot that morning, at least from Princess Celestia's perspective. There had been a few ponies who had sought to meet with her over minor matters, but none had lingered for more than fifteen minutes. There had been an unexpected visit from the band who played at her garden parties, but that had just been to notify her that they'd found a replacement for their retiring cellist and would be taking her to meet the Princess at her earliest convenience. No emergencies had sprung up that her subjects weren't capable of dealing with themselves. Nopony tried to sneak 'minor' changes in legislature past her.
And nopony was blaring loud rock or metal music outside the palace gates. As much as she admitted that the racket had a certain appeal, there was a time and place for everything. The middle of the day, during the time when it was important that she maintain her decorum before her subjects and be the ruler that Equestria needed, was not it. My faithful student's brain would probably melt from sheer shock if she knew that I had all of Blin Jaggwar's albums, she thought, keeping her chuckle mental. Of course she probably doesn't know who they are, but I shouldn't take that chance.
Bored, Celestia surveyed the throne room. Nopony aside from herself and her guards were present at the moment, and she didn't have any scheduled appointments until after lunch. For a few moments she wondered whether she ought to summon Raven Inkwell from her duties for a game of cards; the secretary worked hard for her both here and in Ponyville, true, but she hadn't yet learned how to pace herself---
A long scroll materialized before her in a burst of green fire, and she sighed internally as it dropped to the floor. I guess that's out of the question now. I don't think I left anything out of this morning's lesson with Twilight, so it couldn't be from her or Spike. And the scroll is paper instead of papyrus. Which means... She took the scroll in her magic and unrolled it. Called it. She smiled, amused but touched, when she saw who had written it and what it contained.
"To: Princess Celestia
She didn't take that stunt of yours very well. Gaining firsthand knowledge of your control over the sun and hearing me refer to you as a 'flake' made her pass out. Wimp. To allow her to recover I had her brought back to a local theater, the Pyre of Fears, as that is her home base at present.
If I may make a suggestion, Your Highness? Brace yourself. Starting tomorrow, everything about who she is, why she's here, and what she can do is going to roll around Equestria. There's going to be no shortage of concern, possibly even panic from anypony who's only familiar with their own kind. She caught a group of notorious thieves last night who were trying to raid her temporary home, so she's in the good graces of the Manehattan Royal Police, but there's always going to be the truly paranoid. I suspect that if they decide that the Police aren't going to do anything about her, they will either take matters into their own hooves or send a vast multitude of demands to Canterlot insisting that you and the Guard take direct action. Maybe even both. We're nutty that way.
The resulting ruckus would cut into my precious beauty sleep. And no cracks from you about said beauty sleep taking a few months. I've already had to put up with similar comments from my daughter. Just because it's true doesn't make it any less annoying to hear about.
Anyway, now that I've replenished my ink, I can talk more about Leviathan. She visited the Royal Police station to collect the bounty for the thieves' capture, and I caught up with her there. I gave her a brief history lesson about Manehattan and answered a few related questions, from which arose her initial disbelief about your longevity and power. She bought more of this strange candy that she can safely eat (called 'Heartbreakers' for your future reference), and she booped my nose to wake me up from a nap. We had a spirited debate (not an argument) as to the state of her clothing. When we bought a coat to cover her wounds until she can heal on her own, she challenged the minotauress store-owner to an arm wrestling match to take place after her recovery. And she lent her helmet to a foal and let him play with it while waiting for his mother to retrieve him. Everything that happened after, you already know.
I'll continue to send you updates, though I can't promise that they'll be daily. There's no guarantee that anything new regarding Leviathan will surface with this much frequency, and the Manehattan Minutes will be filling in many of the gaps if they do their job right, which is why I won't be talking about Fairy's origins like I'd originally planned. In addition I only have one more full Dragon Fire Candle stashed away, and those are difficult to come by. I can't afford to use these willy-nilly. Finally, my daughter believes that I have a pen pal in Canterlot, and while it's not un-true she'll start asking questions I won't be able to answer if this keeps up.
Sincerely yours,
Gray Ghost
Humble Housewife
P.S. I sincerely hope that I'm the first pony to use the word "boop" in the proper context in a letter to the Crown. It just seemed too funny a word to pass up.
P.P.S. I wanted to sign this letter as 'Countess Coloratura', but my daughter didn't like that idea."
Celestia rolled up the letter and set it next to her on her throne for the moment. She closed her eyes, and in her memories she recalled a little monochromatic Cutie Mark-less filly breaking free from her classmates and charging up the dais, beaming up at her like there was nothing wrong with the world before the foal's teacher could catch her. That same foal later chasing sultan chickens in the gardens, which at the time seemed like a strange way of attaining her Mark (though Celestia wasn't complaining; she sometimes believed those things had it out for her).
Too, she recalled a young and energetic mare ten years later who wanted to do right by others, dedicating her life to Manehattan's Royal Police... and in a more secretive meeting, promising Celestia that she would serve S.M.I.L.E. as a field agent should she be required to do so. For curiosity's sake, the monarch asked Gray during that meeting why she acted the way she did as a foal. With a sad smile on the pegasus' face, she only said seven words in reply: "I don't know. It just seemed right." This confused Celestia, since as far as she could recall she had her outward emotions under complete control.
Regardless of her reasons, Gray would go on to be a massive help to the city well into young adulthood, helping to take a bite out of the city's then-high crime rate.
More memories, this time of a news story in the Minutes that was elaborated on by the Police: a hostage situation at the bridge leading out of Manehattan, and Gray tackling one of those responsible. While she succeeded in distracting the criminals long enough for the rest of her squad to move in and secure the hostages, she was thrown off the bridge with an injured wing in the ensuing scuffle. There were no other pegasi close by to catch her, and she just barely managed to create enough lift with her uninjured wing to keep from sustaining fatal injuries upon impact with the water.
By some miracle she was found safe, if soaked to the bone with salt water, but it was clear from an accompanying photo that she was thinking about something other than the hostages or her near-death experience. "I'm reconsidering my priorities," she was quoted as saying, though those who knew her said that this was a vast understatement: plain and simply put, she was in love with her rescuer.
Later, she requested to be discharged from the Police after she married, and once it was granted she disappeared off the grid entirely. Gray was still technically under S.M.I.L.E.'s jurisdiction, but somehow they were never able to find her. Her special talent, which she'd previously used to get the drop on those the Police were trying to catch, let her stay out of sight: if she didn't want to be found, then nopony short of a dedicated investigator would be able to track her down. They could talk to her husband, sure, but even without speaking to him directly, it didn't take long to determine that he was completely in the dark as to her more secretive life. After that, it was decided that somepony who was fiercely loyal to Equestria and S.M.I.L.E. and had no reason to turn against them was no threat, and the agency turned its attention to more important matters.
At times when there was nothing else occupying her mind over the next fifteen years, Celestia wondered what became of that little filly who had unintentionally cheered her up that day in the throne room. She'd come to terms a long time ago with the inevitability of outliving her friends and subjects, but that didn't mean that she had to enjoy it. So when Gray wrote to her out of the blue telling her of Leviathan's presence in Manehattan, "pleased" was another understatement: her mood was more joyful than anything else, though of course she did a fine job of suppressing it in light of the letter's connotations.
As for Leviathan herself, there was no question in Celestia's mind that the Reploid was a concern. Throughout the alicorn's long life, there was no entity like her in Equestria. For sure there were a number of bipedal races in the world, but how many could claim that they were fully mechanical, capable of independent thought, made for warfare and a complete stranger to the planet all in the same breath? She made it clear to Gray that Leviathan was to be watched, but at the same time let her know that an attempt would be made to find out where she came from and send her home, if such methods existed. If nothing else Leviathan seemed personable, if that note Gray included about her letting a foal play with her helmet was any proof.
Celestia was protective of Equestria, true, but she was not going to alienate an actual alien if alternatives were available. She shook her head ruefully. What was that term Shining Armor once used to describe himself? A 'nerd'? I think they're the ones most likely to go into a frenzy over Leviathan's presence. Beware, ye of the twenty-sided dice.
…
One of the guards looked at Celestia through his peripheral vision. She seems introspective over whatever was in that message. And serious. A message from one of her border guards, maybe?
After a short time the Princess produced a scroll, ink and quill and proceeded to write, keeping her stone-serious expression. Most likely a reply, informing whoever messaged her to keep their eyes open for intruders. I'm glad to know that she takes this whole 'ruling' thing seriously. He smiled and continued staring forward, satisfied with his duty. This is what I signed up for.
"To my little pony,
I agree. 'Boop' is a funny word.
I appreciate you warning me ahead of time about the consequences of Leviathan's existence and presence. Continue sending me updates as you see fit. For now, I will request a copy of the Minutes once tomorrow's edition arrives in Canterlot.
With your next update, please tell me more about what you have been up to these past years. Your letter last night was the first I had heard from you since you resigned your post, and I was beginning to wonder if you were alright.
Best wishes,
Princess Celestia"
When Ebony went to find her mother and inform her that lunch was ready, she found Gray snoring softly as she sunned herself on one of the fire escape's steps. She facehoofed. "You're embarrassing me, Mom."
By the time Gray had dropped Leviathan off back at the Pyre, Buried Lede had already left to find others associated with the Reploid to speak with. He returned in mid-afternoon to see if she was available and get the interview he wanted, stating that he'd spoken with enough outsiders and wanted to get straight to the source.
Leviathan had long since roused herself from her Standby state. She decided that if she was to come to terms with this world, she couldn't put it off anymore: she had to learn to read the local language, all the more to absorb what knowledge she could and hammer it out in a way that she could safely process without the use of overrides. When Lede found her, she and Drama Heart were comparing their respective alphabets using one of the latter's first screenplays. While the mess in the lobby hadn't been completely cleaned up, it was still greatly diminished from what it had been.
Gray returned to the Pyre at the same time Lede did, hiding her intention to learn more about Leviathan for Celestia's sake under the guise of simple curiosity. As a result he interviewed them both at the same time. Gray contributed her perspective of events, taking care to stay within her limits as a housewife and horror fan instead of delving into her past experience as a law enforcer.
Leviathan, on the other hand, did not hold back. She talked of everything: her creation from X's DNA ("Yes, Reploids can have DNA, moving on", she'd said in response to their incredulity), her original role in environment restoration and what that entailed, her conversion into a full combat Reploid and rechristening as one of Neo Arcadia's Four Guardians, the atrocities she and her 'siblings' committed in the name of a well-intentioned extremist, the ongoing conflict involving the Resistance, her rivalry with Zero ("No, Gray, it is not a murder-crush, now just drop it"), her goals now that she was in Equestria... everything was fair game. The information she provided was much more comprehensive than the basic outline she'd given to Gray, Drama, and Turkey the day before.
She allowed herself to be photographed without her coat, showing off the damage left by Omega as proof that she was everything she'd said she was. She'd summoned her Javelin and traced a caricature of a pony's face on the sidewalk, then did the same thing with one hand when it was pointed out that some would think her ice powers came strictly from her weapon. One of the photos Lede took of her as she showed off for the camera included Drama and her markedly unlit horn, providing some proof that a unicorn's magic was not at work here... though how many that would actually convince, he didn't know.
By the time both interviews concluded, it was right around dinnertime. Lede thanked them for their time, summoned a taxi carriage, and took off back to his office like his tail was on fire. Gray too left for home, already preparing her next report in her mind but holding off on writing it for now.
As Gray predicted, Manehattan went up in metaphorical flames the next day. The news of Leviathan's existence and her reasons for being in Equestria rapidly circulated throughout the city faster than any wind, and opinions varied depending on whether they'd crossed paths with her or not.
Ebony refused to touch the paper out of not wanting to see any photographs, so Gray gave her some of the highlights; she was worried, of course, but she at least was fully convinced that Leviathan wasn't deliberately out to scare her. The ponies who'd seen the machine save Drama's life from the lightning strike decided to give her the benefit of a doubt, for the most part. Turkey Bowl took the new information in stride, as did the bulk of the staff at the R.P. station and the Lonely Heart nightclub's regulars. Gilbert the griffon was suitably impressed, Leviathan's statement to him that it was a good story ringing true. Bossa Nova remained eager to test her might against a willing challenger, not caring for her origins. Charity Kindheart smiled and nodded as she saw somepony who wanted to change, and Butterscotch's mother was worried but hopeful for the entity who meant her child no harm.
But for many others, their emotions were at the opposite end of the spectrum. Mortar and Pestle hadn't forgotten their scare, and Leviathan's appearance remained too off-putting for them, never mind her past misdeeds. The Midnight Castle gang overheard some of the details from somepony who was a bit too chatty, and their reactions ranged from cold fury (Gates) to fear (Gargoyle). Alexandrite buried her face in a pillow and wept when she re-affirmed that things could have gone much worse for her. "What do you think of the alien?" became a big conversation starter, and many were too nervous to think of a silver lining. The atmosphere throughout the city became clouded with worry and trepidation.
Some of those with the Royal Police who didn't support the Reploid were contemplating finding some grounds or other for arrest, or discovering a way to get the Crown directly involved. Not that Celestia would have wanted to, had she known of their intentions; between Gray and the newspaper, she was already well-informed. In addition the neighsayers were a clear minority, with none in any real positions of power, and the higher-ups dismissed their worries outright: unless there was a blatant display of Leviathan's disregard for ponykind and/or Equestrian law, the machine would remain free. This didn't make them happy, but there was nothing they could do about it aside from sucking it up and doing their jobs appropriately.
The staff at the Minutes had done their job, for better and worse.
Leviathan spent her day reading the newspaper, solidifying what she'd learned of the local language in her mind while Drama Heart went about her business. She was more interested in the similarities between it and English than she was in what ponies thought of her, at least for now. All the while, her auto-repair continued to boost her power output closer and closer to 100%.
While half of the paper's 'A' section focused on her to some extent or another, it was the articles on the first few pages that proved the most eye-catching. The highlights include:
WE ARE NOT ALONE!
(Photo: The battle-weary Leviathan standing in the Pyre's lobby, coat momentarily discarded. Credit: Buried Lede. Caption: "The self-identified Siren General from the far-off city of Neo Arcadia.")
Sapient Robot Crash-Lands on City Rooftop
By: Buried Lede
Two afternoons ago through means unknown both to this reporter and the victim, a two-legged machine awoke far from home on a Bronclyn rooftop at Flower Row. In a span of twelve hours, the machine quickly left its mark on Manehattan.
"I was awoken by my daughter's scream, and I was worried for her," states Gray Ghost, 39. "When I flew over to investigate, I saw this bipedal doll-looking thing awkwardly clinging to the fire escape and wondering why it just had a can of bug spray thrown at its face."
According to Mrs. Ghost, the 'doll' was heavily damaged, permitting her to see its metallic insides. When she confronted it, she was surprised to discover that it was capable of pony speech and intelligent thought, and that it was unfamiliar with one of the facets of ponykind's existence. "It fell unconscious when I told it that my daughter was a magic-using unicorn. Who even does that?" Mrs. Ghost reported. "I just left it alone after that."
Shortly thereafter, a local remodeling business transported it to the Pyre of Fears horror theater at the opposite end of Bronclyn. "We were under the impression that it was somepony's failed art project or stage show prop," states Pestle, 24, one of the co-owners of Mortar & Son Co. "We delivered it to the Pyre to see if the theater's owner could use it somehow, and she agreed to look at it. I didn't expect it to come alive."
"It snapped awake the moment we removed the tarp," says Pyre owner Burning Salamandra, 31. "In my eagerness to investigate it, I ignored all of its protests and forced it to flee. I opted to call others to help me and pursued it down the street." (story continued on page A4)
Alien Vs. Pony
By: Hassleberry
(Photo: Hassleberry's face.)
Today I'm going to discuss the 'freaky robot from space' that some at the Minutes are calling it, but first I'd like to address the concerns of a Mrs. "G.G.". In my last column, I had the gall to suggest that dogs, as "loyal" as they are, are still much friendlier than cats, who would gladly sell out their mothers for catnip and a bag of kibble. In words not fit for print, she told me that her Mane Coon was smarter than my honor student, that her "Echo" was friendlier than most ponies she'd met, that it could dance the Charliehorseton, etc. I would like to make an addendum: not all cats sell out their mothers for catnip and kibble. Some of them prefer canned cat food instead.
Now, while I'm in the middle of writing a fascinating column about why the Everfree Forest would be a terrible place for a picnic, one of my co-workers rushes into the editorial department and declares that he has the story of the century. I was skeptical, seeing as how the last "story of the century" involved Princess Celestia demonstrating to her doubters that she did not have pegasi continuously flapping their wings in her presence. To answer my doubts, my co-worker presented an entire roll's worth of photographs of an escapee from the fashion district, plus one picture of a demented wig. I wasn't sure whether the escapee was modeling for the newspaper or a horror show, so it was clarified that it was actually a space alien robot from another universe I was looking at.
This is actually a good thing, and not just because a mannequin modeling for a newspaper would be seen as desperation and poor decision making in the job market. Having an alien robot voluntarily take up modeling in Equestria would satisfy the dreams and desires of every science fiction fanatic within eighty miles of Manehattan. If it had been a pony on top of that, it could have charged anypony who wanted to date it and become rich in no time. But alas it isn't; instead it's a skinny snout-less minotaur with swept-back horns, enough holes to make it a national park, heels that you could use for squashing tarantulas, and a walking refrigerator upgrade. I am not making this up.
Now, readers of my column might be leery of this statement in light of me saying it in regards to what they may view as fictitious information. However, I really am not making this up. One of the photographs showed the alien touching the sidewalk, and the next depicted the sidewalk with the frozen image of a pony's face. My co-worker did not tell me whether or not the alien was drinking ice water at the time.
This is huge news, so obviously you'd want to get on its good side real quick. While this was being written, we received a message from an alert reader claiming that the alien was sighted entering a grocery store and buying Heartbreakers candy. It is not clear why anypony or anything would want to eat Heartbreakers, given that each one contains enough sugar to cause a pony's jaw to disintegrate on the spot. Still, buying it some would probably make it view you as its friend for life, though you have to weigh this against the fact that the candy's manufacturer would see this as incentive to stay in business and crank out even more teeth-melting confectioneries. (Also, 'Teeth-Melting Confectioneries' would make a really good name for a rock band.)
But if it turns out that it means harm to Manehattan, there are means of countering it available. The Wonderbolts will put on an impromptu air show, and it will be so impressed by what it sees that it won't see the Royal Police hoof-cuffing it until it tries in vain to applaud. Princess Celestia will arrive by unnecessary chariot, smile serenely, wait for Mrs. G.G.'s cat to finish dancing the Charliehorseton on "Leviathan's" helmet, and have it taken to Canterlot for sentencing. As a result of the brave actions of Equestria's protectors, Leviathan would go modeling, "Echo" would get off scot-free on account of the lawyer it keeps on retainer, and I will get angry letters from her owner suggesting that I didn't clarify what I meant by "it" throughout this paragraph.
Note: if it turns out that Leviathan is in fact reading this, please don't spill ice water on me. I have candy.
Midnight Castles Captured
By: Honest Crow
The Manehattan Royal Police has confirmed that the Midnight Castle Gang, seven well-known thieves that have eluded authorities for a year, have finally been captured.
While on patrol in the vicinity of Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears two nights ago, several officers came across a strange somepony hauling a net containing the thieves in question. In an account that seems too good to be true, an extra-terrestrial robot that was staying at the Pyre overheard the thieves stealing from the theater and subsequently took it upon itself to stop them. Through means as yet unknown, the entire Gang was subdued with minor injuries at worst and handed over to the police. The report did not arrive in time at the Minutes to be printed in yesterday's edition.
(Photo: Police artist's sketch of ringleaders Bastion and Iron Gates, with Cutie Marks stenciled above. Credit: Manehattan Royal Police Department. Caption: "Official sketch of Midnight Castle leaders drawn at the start of their spree. Both ponies were on the Most Wanted list for illegal ownership of Royal Guard weaponry, among other crimes.")
According to a source that wished to remain anonymous, the robot made it clear that it had no interest in bounty hunting and only caught the thieves because they were stealing from its current home. (story continued on page A3)
(Photo: Leviathan's smiling face, the Frost Javelin's shaft held behind her. Credit: Buried Lede. Caption: "Equestria's first extra-terrestrial lifeform has a checkered history. Readers are encouraged to think carefully before making any judgement calls.")
Excerpts from an exclusive interview with the living robot known as Fairy Leviathan and local resident Gray Ghost, conducted yesterday at 3:10p.m. Foals should not read this transcript without parental supervision.
BL: You introduced yourself as a "Reploid". Can you provide some background?
FL: Certainly. A Reploid is a robot whose design is derived from the blueprints of our progenitor, 'X'. From what I know of his history, X was created by a well-meaning scientist with high hopes for him. This scientist gifted him with the ability to think, feel, and make all of his own decisions without being influenced by what some know as The Three Laws of Robotics. That isn't to say that he wasn't capable of following the Laws if he so chose, just that he was able to walk his own path through life. After his completion he laid dormant for a century before an archaeologist found him, woke him up, and used his limited understanding of X's schematics to jump-start the Reploid race. We've been a major player in our world scene ever since.
BL: So by 'limited understanding', you mean...
FL: Not everyone had as firm a grip on their morality and ethics as X did. Those who antagonized our creators' race were dubbed Mavericks, and a new organization---with X as one of its members---was put together to bring to heel anyone who resorted to chaos, violence, and murder. Much of that era of history is lost to the ages due to the warfare that ensued over the decades, so I'm not able to elaborate as much as I'd like, but that's the gist of our background.
GG: I'm getting the idea that you weren't always a warrior. What were you first built for?
FL: There was a catastrophe called the "Elf Wars" at some point that did a serious number on the world's population and damaged, if not outright destroyed, much of the environment. I was directly created from X's DNA to survive anywhere in the deep blue sea, to help restore the oceans to their original condition and allow what organic life that still remained to thrive. I was named "Leviathan" with that in mind. When I was converted into a proper combat Reploid years later, they didn't have to modify me for survivability too much: I was already capable of operating as far down as 11,000 meters below the ocean surface. Anypony who's studied water pressure can tell you why that's a big deal. (shrug) I also got to help operate a weather-control station for a time, which was nice.
BL: So you would describe yourself as amphibious, then?
FL: Dry land's not my environment of choice, but yes. I can survive above the water just as easily as below. Either way I like to think that I accomplished a fair bit in that line of work, despite it requiring time for the changes to be evident to everyone.
BL: Your role's obviously changed as time went on. What led to this conversion you mentioned?
FL: X wasn't around long after I and my 'siblings' were activated. He seemed rather tired and sad, on the verge of giving up. He stuck around just long enough to introduce himself and tell us what he wanted us to do before disappearing. A number of years later he showed up again, albeit with a slightly different appearance, and re-assumed control of the city. There was an upsurge in Maverick activity not too long after. So to protect the city he'd founded, he had our combat abilities enhanced. I became Fairy Leviathan, the Siren General of Neo Arcadia's Deep Sea Squadron, and one of Master X's Four Guardians. Environmental restoration took a backseat to safeguarding our creators and all Reploids who followed the laws. I was able to fight before, but this was where I began to reach my full potential.
GG: I'm not sure how long it was between the advent of Reploids and now, but it looks like this 'X' was alive a long time. What's the life span of a Reploid? Do you know?
FL: Theoretically, we're capable of living for centuries provided that we keep our bodies, internal hardware, and minds in good repair. Sadly I can only think of... three at the most that have managed more than a hundred years: X himself, his friend Zero, and a former soldier and baker who is currently in the Resistance. The world they were raised in was just too violent.
BL: Not to step out of line here, but if there's a Resistance, that would mean there was something wrong with how your city was run.
FL: You're not wrong. It's only within the past few days that I realized that the 'X' who had us turned into Guardians was a copy, a fake. There was an energy crisis taking place during our tenure, and his idea of dealing with it involved forcibly "retiring" those he and his judges deemed to be Mavericks. I'm sure you can hear the quotes around that word.
BL: And you just went along with it?
FL: Yes. 'Copy X', as I'll call him, sounded enough like the real deal to convince us that it was X. The majority of the populace loved him for everything X had done throughout his life, so they too went along with it. When he started giving orders that went against what we knew our 'father' had stood for, we just assumed that the stress of trying to keep the city together was getting to him, so we didn't question it. Not counting those who attacked Neo Arcadia directly, I'm responsible for the deaths of no less than 230 Reploids, whether it was by my own hands or by those under my command. The only reason it isn't higher is because the Deep Sea Squadron is typically an amphibious squadron: we gravitate towards water, the extreme cold, or both, and most of our enemies aren't keen on making themselves floating targets.
GG: 230 lives, each one without an epilogue to their story... why are you openly admitting this when it would make more sense to keep quiet?
FL: Because Manehattan needs to know. Yes, it would probably be better if they believed that the alien robot in their midst was a morally upstanding individual who wouldn't hurt a fly if she didn't need to, but that would be a lie. I'm not going to sugarcoat what I've done: I've murdered innocents in the name of a tyrant, and it took the arrival of an even worse tyrant and a meeting with the real X while I was comatose to make me realize that. There's no excusing it. The citizens of this city... no, those of Equestria need to know exactly who I am, what I've done, and what I'm capable of. Otherwise, they aren't going to have the complete picture.
BL: Now that's a statement I can agree with. This 'Resistance' you're talking about, then...
FL: Not everyone was blind to Copy X's tyranny. There was a certain child genius... she's a few years older than Gray's daughter now, I think. She could tell that what he was doing was wrong, and despite having no fighting ability herself, her heart wouldn't let her stand idly by and do nothing. There was at least one other Resistance cell already, but her's became the most well-known because it was the only one led by one of our own creators. As such, Copy X made it clear that while any Reploids with the Resistance had to die, Dr. Ciel was to be captured alive and unharmed. (spells out 'Ciel')
GG: I can hear the admiration in your voice. Was she somepony you knew?
FL: Only by reputation. Everything the Resistance did in her name wasn't just for their own survival. It was to give her time to solve the energy crisis herself, and when I arrived here she'd made significant progress. I can safely say her heart was in the right place. To this end, when they really began getting pushed towards annihilation, they willingly gave up their lives to help her restore the one Reploid that could make a difference on the battlefield. This is where X's friend Zero enters the picture.
GG: Your face is turning red.
FL: Zero is... a force of nature. Because of him, every operation we launched against the Resistance ended in failure. He fought each of us Guardians twice, killed our stealth expert the second time, and successfully destroyed Copy X. He disappeared for a year fighting our armies, then took us on again when he returned. The last time I fought him my mind was being influenced by someone, and... I may have admitted that Zero became my only real reason for living.
GG: Oh, I get it! He's your---
FL:---ahem. Mr. Lede, all of this damage you're seeing on me right now isn't due to Zero, but because of that 'worse tyrant' I mentioned earlier. I and my 'siblings' were investigating a crashed ship recently, and two of us had the misfortune of 'greeting' the tyrant's gargantuan attack dog, Omega. Nothing we threw at him could faze him, and my attempt at attacking a perceived weak point only got me slammed through several walls. If Zero hadn't turned up to engage him, I'd be dead now. As things stand we were forced to retreat, and I fell unconscious as soon as we returned to base.
BL: And no one thought to fix you?
FL: They didn't care. The way I understand it, the tyrant had already stepped in and began cementing his rule over Neo Arcadia. As such, my 'brother' and I were left to rot in some room or another without repairs. Eventually we were woken up by the real X, as stated earlier, and he ordered us to support Zero against Omega. We reached their battleground in time to provide said support, and Omega was destroyed shortly thereafter. That leads me to why I'm in Equestria.
BL: How so?
FL: My 'siblings' and I did something incredibly stupid. Reploids can explode violently if they're subjected to too much damage, and Omega was no exception. When we noticed that his power generators were going critical from Zero's final strike, the three of us charged ahead to shield Zero from the explosion. There was this searing pain like every inch of me inside and out was being burned simultaneously, and my vision turned white... and when I was next able to open my eyes, I was on a Manehattan rooftop. Everything that's happened since you've probably ascertained from prior interviews. I don't know why I'm alive, just that I am. By all accounts, I should be smoldering wreckage right now.
BL: That is quite the story, to say the least. Do you expect that the other Guardians will show up, too?
FL: Thinking about it... no. Our built-in communications systems are fairly powerful. I think if Fefnir and Harpuia... (spells them out) ...were here with me somewhere, they would have tried to get in contact with me by now. No, they're not around, and I strongly suspect that I'm the only one of us Four left in existence.
BL: As a complete outsider to Equestria, what are your impressions of Manehattan?
FL: How to put it... I admit that this city is beautiful. For sure it has its problems; those thieves are proof of that. But everything I've seen tells me that it's not in the same condition as the world that I just left. There are no real crises or major issues dividing your race. What little I've seen of the surrounding environment tells me it's pleasant, and I've been told that your ruler is honest-to-goodness benevolent... Had it been any other circumstance, I wouldn't have minded settling down here. Sure, the technology level is at least three hundred years behind what I'm used to, but that's strictly a personal gripe.
GG: It took three hundred years for your creators to develop automatic doors?
FL: You're never going to let me live my accident down, I can tell.
BL: So I'm assuming your ultimate goal is to go home?
FL: If possible. As nice as this city is, it's no place for me. I'm a Guardian, Mr. Lede. A warrior. Someone who, crimes against her own race notwithstanding, is meant to protect. My place is back in Neo Arcadia: Omega's destruction wouldn't have been enough to break that tyrant's grip, and I feel that Zero will need all the help he can get. Lastly, Manehattan deserves better than to have someone like me around. I just got done admitting that I was a killer a few minutes ago, and you can't tell me that everypony here's going to be comfortable with my presence. If they don't want me here, I'm not going to force them to put up with me. As soon as my auto-repair's restored me to full functionality---
GG: ---and as soon as you've finished that arm wrestling match with that minotaur...
FL: (grin) Wouldn't miss that for the world. But anyway, as soon as those are done, I'm making getting home my highest priority. It might be impossible, but there's no way to know for sure unless I exhaust every possibility. Any other questions, Mr. Lede?
BL: Just a few concerning your combat capabilities. If you're coming clean to Equestria, we may as well talk a little about those too. What's that fancy spear of yours?
(Photo: Leviathan's weapon of choice propped against the Pyre's exterior. Credit: Buried Lede.)
FL: Well, it's been called a lot of things. A harpoon, a spear, a halberd, I've even had some mistake it for a bisento or glaive. Officially it's called the Frost Javelin. It's about a hundred-plus years old from what I've been told, so I have to assume it was meant for someone else and just never saw any action. When I began my assignment as an environmentalist it was given to me to help me defend myself from the odd Maverick or malfunctioning mech, and when I became an official Guardian I re-worked the weapon to handle the full extent of my ice manipulation. It's seen a lot of action, but it's withstood the test of time. Definitely my most treasured possession.
BL: Ice manipulation?
FL: I can offer a demonstration if you'd like, just not in here. Salamandra's going to throw a fit if I accidentally damage the carpet, and I don't want her hugging me again. If I may take us outside?
BL: Certainly.
GG: This should be good.
...! Wait, did they actually...?
I was too preoccupied with making sure my translation of the local language was correct to realize it at first, but flipping back through the pages... yes, they really did print my face-first encounter with that door.
...
Drama pokes her head out the door of her office a moment later. "If you're going to muffle your screams, might I suggest a pillow?"
I lower the newspaper from my face, eyes half-closed. "Noted."
At the end of the day after I'd finished appraising the newspaper, I decided to put myself back in hibernation for a bit. I didn't have anything to do that would require me to stay awake, and it would let my power generators piece themselves back together with ever-increasing efficiency, and without interference. Drama was alright with that just as long as I stayed out of everypony's way, so I returned to her living room upstairs, put the relaxing record back on, and let my dreams carry me away.
As an aside I learned that the name of the singer was 'Naye'. I'm sure there's a joke here somewhere, but I don't feel it's important enough to dwell on.
The next day was pretty busy... for Drama Heart. Somepony came by to replace the ruined glass in her bedroom window, so that had to be settled. In addition there were several groups of ponies who gathered around the theater's closed doors, demanding to be let in to see me with their own eyes and not being deterred by Drama's statement that I was asleep. Thankfully, there were officers on patrol in the area who were willing and able to break up the gatherings before they could gather much steam.
The third time it happened, Drama got fed up and posted a sign on the door: "Excuse me? When somepony tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone. The Pyre is CLOSED today. If you're so anxious to see somepony who is trying to rest and recover from her recent trials that you're willing to disturb us unnecessarily, then I will notify the authorities and have them tell you what I just said. Let Leviathan rest in peace, and let me work!" A bit on the irritated side, but it got the job done. Nopony wanted to risk the annoyance of the Royal Police, at least not badly enough to see me.
...Well, almost nopony. Butterscotch, the little foal who asked to borrow my helmet the other day, and his mother lingered after the last group had broken up. When Drama inquired why they were still there, Butterscotch gave her an envelope that he'd been holding in his mouth and asked her to give it to me when I woke up. With a face like his, there wasn't a snowball's chance in a desert that Drama was going to refuse him. "I just melted," Drama sheepishly admitted when she gave it to me.
That brings us to today. It's two days following the release of the Minutes' special section about me. Or for those that are having some trouble keeping track, the start of my fourth full day in Manehattan. I'm sitting in a corner in Drama's kitchen, working my way through my second package of Heartbreakers. My landlord is finishing telling me about everything that transpired yesterday over her own breakfast... and it's right in the middle of her explanation that an update crosses my HUD. It's one of those that I've been waiting to see.
Power Output: 99%. Maximum capacity: 100%. Power generators have been repaired.
Wonderful. One down. Let's see, refocusing the auto-repair on my frame and synthskin... there we go. Things are going smoothly. Still not as smoothly as they would have been if I had an actual capsule, since that would've brought me back up to speed in a matter of days instead of weeks, but under the circumstances I can't complain.
A question is crossing my mind as to whether I should continue wearing this coat full-time after all repairs are complete. I think I'll worry about it later when it becomes more relevant.
While Drama takes a break from talking to continue eating, I open the envelope that was given me. The paper it contains has very childish and colorful scrawl, with crude caricatures of a foal's smiling face and mine. Even with my newfound understanding of the local language, it takes a few moments for me to make any sense out of the writing:
"Dear Laveathin..." I wince at the visual butchering of my name. "Don't give up! You're a good Reproid!" And again. "You can do better! Go home and be a hero! ---Butterscotch." I shake my head, bemused. "A hero? Foals and their big imaginations."
"Turn it over," Drama says. "There's more on the back."
I do so, noting that the writing was much neater (and smaller). I read it aloud: "'To Fairy Leviathan: I was unsure of you when we met, but now that I've read more about you, I would like to express my thanks to you for capturing the Midnight Castles. I was always worried that they would rob the office I work part-time at blind in their greedy quest, or that they would hurt Butterscotch somehow while pursuing something unrelated. There may be plenty of crooks on the city streets, but because of your efforts there are seven less roaming about. I wish you the best in your search for a way home. With sincere gratitude, Cotton Ball.' ...Well, now."
"That's an uplifting message if I ever heard one," Drama commented. "You might want to hold on to that. It'll come in handy in the event that someone sends you hate mail."
"Mind elaborating?"
"Well, you have read your share of fiction before, haven't you?"
I nod. "Some things are universal." I wouldn't have been able to comment on my placement in this world if I hadn't.
I wait patiently while Drama finishes eating, and I'm rewarded when she sets her dish aside and turns to me. "There's a novel that's been out for about... I want to say six years now. It's about a petty thief who was falsely accused of murder, and the stigma remained even after he was acquitted. While on a trip to Canterlot he's inspired to join the Royal Guard, but he's faced with an uphill battle: accusing stares, uncomfortable glances, harsh words, the works. One day after he's given a particularly scathing speech from somepony who hates him, a little foal trots up to him and gives him a letter. When reading the letter, he remembers rescuing the foal from somepony who was abusing it, and when he finishes reading he realizes that his mood had gotten better. From that point on he hangs on to the letter and re-reads it whenever he has a bad day, and it's able to keep him going. His perseverance finally pays off by the end of the novel when he completes his training and officially joins the Guard as an officer."
"I have to wonder how much of that I'd be able to benefit from," I say after a second's deliberation. "It could just be wishful thinking. I interacted with those two for less than fifteen minutes, and they were just individuals I happened to meet. It isn't as if I have any sort of emotional attachment towards them."
"You'd be surprised just how much impact words can have on someone," Drama replies. "Never underestimate what they can do. They can either build somepony up or tear them down, depending on the speaker's motivations and how his words are interpreted. Those that encourage can potentially have their words remembered for as long as the listener lives..." She gets up to bring her dishes to the sink. "...while those that discourage are best forgotten."
"Don't teach an orator how to be wordy," I remind her. "I'm no stranger to psychological warfare, whether it's good or bad."
"Says the person who falls to pieces around that Zero fellow in more ways than one," Drama tells me with a playful smirk. "You know, most ponies just ask somepony out when they meet that one individual who riles them up."
That's a divide-by-Zero situation if I ever heard one. "Just how often does 'romancing the enemy' work in reality?"
"Not a lot outside of fiction, and there's troublesome consequences for those who try." My host gets to work cleaning off the sink's contents. "My point is... well, magic takes many forms in Equestria. There's the more tangible variety that you see me using everyday. There's the flight and weather magic utilized by pegasi. The pure power and 'green hooves', as some put it, that make earth ponies so good at working the land... and there's even one that mechanical beings like yourself might be able to utilize."
Oh-ho? Tell me more. "And what would that be?" I ask after swallowing the last of the Heartbreakers.
"For context, ponies are a very emotional and herd-centric species on the whole." Drama winces at something. "For the most part. At our cores, we want to care about others and be a part of their lives. When we combine our strengths, our mentalities, the very things that define us as ponies, there are few things we can't do. But places like Canterlot, Manehattan, Baltimare, any especially large Equestrian city... we might get along with others, but our focus tends to lean towards supporting ourselves and looking out for number one. You get rare ponies like Charity Kindheart who are able to bring out the best in others, but that's just it: they're rare in this day and age."
I idly tap my fingers against the wall. "So if you had to simplify it, how would you put it?"
"With three words," Drama answers. "It's an age-old expression that ponies think they understand, but they never come anywhere close to utilizing to the full." She sighs softly. "I freely admit I'm no less guilty of misunderstanding it. I learned it when I was a filly, but I didn't comprehend it as well as I thought, and it ended up getting shoved to the back of my mind due to other concerns. Maybe you can figure it out someday." She pauses her dish-washing for a few moments, just long enough to turn back towards me with a completely serious look. "'Friendship is magic.'"
...And she's expecting me of all people to learn what friendship's really about? "You're kidding," I finally respond, my voice uncharacteristically dry for my element.
"No, silly. I'm Drama Heart." She really should not look so amused by that remark. "Ha! Dad joke!"
There's a reference there that I'm not getting, and I don't think I want to know. "So let me see if I have this figured out, then. You think that I, a sapient robot from another world with no prior experience with magic and no real friends of her own, can figure out what 'friendship is magic' really means by using the words of a foal as a starting point?"
"Stranger things have happened," Drama says as she puts the now-clean dishes away.
Unlikely. "Name one."
"I can name one that's about to happen, if you'd like." When I shrug in response, she elaborates on her comment. "Singing robots."
...Huh? "By singing robots, you mean..."
"You specifically. You are the only robot around here, correct?"
That... what? "That doesn't make any sense," I argue. "Reploids can't sing."
Ah, the traditional raised eyebrow for suggesting the painfully obvious. "Have they tried?"
Have they... Oh for crying out loud, pony. "I'm not saying we haven't, but as it stands it's a physical impossibility for us. We just aren't built for it. I'm not going to embarrass myself by using someone else's voice data in a vain attempt to partake in the arts, so don't even bother convincing me."
Drama's looking contemplative. That's not a good sign. "So by 'using someone else's voice data', you're saying..."
"When a Reploid 'sings', the best they can really do is to try to imitate others. In the end, it just comes off as a recording since that's the best our hardware is capable of," I explain. "And not even very good recordings at that."
She's smiling earnestly now. "You're worried about sounding like somepony else when singing? Dearie, here in Equestria that's the last thing you have to worry about." Her work done, she gives my hand a gentle tug in her magic and heads for the exit. "Follow me and let me show you what I'm talking about. I can guarantee you that you'll be able to sing by the end of the day. If you aren't able to, then I'll find another way to wake you up that doesn't involve close contact."
I can't wait to hear how this is all connected to supportive children, I murmur mentally as I follow her out of the apartment and down the---
Stumble."Whaaa---!"Crash.
---stairs, oh for the love of X why this again...
Drama's thoughts are in line with mine as she re-orients me and levitates me to the bottom of the flight, grunting a little at the required effort. "I told you, Fairy. I told you about those stairs."
You can imagine the comical indignation I'm sporting. In fact, I encourage you to. "It's not my fault it keeps happening!"
The auditorium looks a lot better when it's well-lit.
I'd been in here before when I was helping Drama put back some of the things that those thieves tried to steal, but at the time she'd insisted on keeping the bulk of the lights off. As a result, the assorted decorations and knickknacks gave the room an unnerving feeling. With the illumination on, it's easier for me to ascertain that everything is homemade, as opposed to being the genuine article. Good thing, because I was wondering why Drama had a set of smiling and frowning pony skulls hanging over the stage.
The seats have lower backs than what I'm used to, so instead I'm sitting on the floor in one of the aisleways. A quick count of the seats reveals that there's enough space for around three hundred ticket-buyers, counting a few rows at the back meant for the city's other species (which is understandable; the average minotaur would probably block everypony's view of the stage). The Midnight Castles were obviously trying to take everything, so part of me is curious as to how they would've been able to grab all the chairs on top of what was already in the alley.
The stage is currently empty save for my host, with maroon curtains blocking the back of it from view. Drama's attired in a black and hale navy dress that's tattered by design instead of wear and tear, with a pendant-slash-microphone in the shape of her Cutie Mark hooked on a chain around her neck. Her mane and tail are going beyond 'unkempt' and into 'all over the place' territory; looking at her from the front, I can't see her bow anymore. Her eyes are red, which she tells me are due to contact lenses instead of any sort of magic.
Yes, I had to ask. When it comes to red eyes, you can't be too careful.
Seeing that I've made myself comfortable, Drama... or I suppose I should call her "Salamandra" now, given what she's doing... clears her throat and begins her lecture. Speakers on either side of the auditorium carry her voice through the entire room. "What I'm going to tell you about now is a phenomenon sometimes experienced by this world's residents, but rarely acknowledged by the whole. Most who go through it will take whatever is offered from it, but tend to forget it even happened before too long. Those few who do recognize its existence use different terms to describe it, though personally I favor 'heartsong'."
"A heartsong?"
Salamandra paces back and forth across the stage. "There are times when somepony feels so strongly about something that their emotions get the better of them. They will seek to get their message across, but not by screaming or yelling as if whoever they're speaking to can't hear them. Whatever their desires, feelings, opinions, or goals may be, this world's magic catches them in its gentle embrace and funnels them through music. It could be as basic as wanting to enjoy a fine spring day, as benign as desiring to help another pony succeed in life, as dance-worthy as getting a crowd to move their hooves in time with the beat, or as dark as seeking to twist another's mind for one's own ends."
I open my mouth to say something along the lines of 'that's rather strange', but she raises a hoof and cuts me off. "Yes, I realize it's difficult to believe. Like I said, even those it happens to have trouble believing it sometimes. I was front and center for a griffon's take on their desire for money once, and when I asked him about the song afterward he just gave me this weird look and asked if my medication had any side effects."
"I wasn't aware you were on medicine."
"I'm not. That's not the point."
"Then what is it?"
Salamandra points at me with her hoof. To me that gesture loses some effect without any fingers, but I can still appreciate that she's trying to list me under an index. "The point is that you don't have to be physically capable of using magic yourself to be subjected to a heartsong. That's the job of this world's magic, so let that do its work in peace... though don't be surprised if it comes and goes so quickly that you didn't realize it took place. It's not something that can be forced; it has to be a natural occurrence. Otherwise you just look silly singing without any sort of instrumental accompaniment."
Hmm... "If you can't force it, then I suppose there's no point in asking you for a demonstration, is there?"
Salamandra giggles at this. "Fufufufufu! Not true, dearie. See, when it comes to my lot in life, my emotions are always at a fever pitch. I love my work, I love telling stories, and I get an absolute kick out of entertaining ponies by scaring their coats right off their skins. My destiny is realized, and I just can't get enough."
There's a faint hint of something at the very edge of my hearing, a musical instrument woven around short bursts of tumultuous sound. Her lesson continues: “When I'm drawing in foals for matinees, I take it easy on them. My dominance over fright would be wasted on their young minds, and I would rather their parents didn't give me trouble. I use prerecorded music purchased from the record stores, bog-standard puppet shows and basic illusions. My stories are no more frightening than the average campfire tale.”
The unmistakable rhythm of a drumbeat threads itself seamlessly into the mix, and... and why did everything around Salamandra go pitch black? Her horn's not channeling any magic...! “But come the evening hours, that's when I'm free to cut loose. The packed theater is subjected to the full force of my storytelling. Ponies pay me to be unable to sleep at night. And what do I use to kick off my performance, you wonder? What do you think I use to show them what they're in for?”
The darkness expands across the theater, enveloping me. I don't like this, I don't like this---! “I leave my dramatic heart to burn like the salamanders of legend!” she howls, her pupils and sclerae ablaze. Her horn finally lights up, and her mane and tail flare out behind her, gaining an orange gradient effect akin to twilight. Her pupils are pinpoints, her gaping maw filled with crystalline drills...! “I hit them with the full force of my emotions... AND I HOLD NOTHING BACK!”
From nothingness, a wall of noise---!
A few moments prior...
Two ponies of average coloration, shape and size stared forlornly at the 'Closed' sign hanging on the Pyre's door. "Again? I was hoping for a chance to see that robot."
"It would be a real hoot if Salamandra wrote a new puppet show with the robot in it," the other said as they turned away, walking around the side of the building towards a destination that only they knew.
"You read the paper, right? Leviathan, or whatever her name is... it said that she wasn't interested in acting."
"Hey, a mare can dream, right?"
"So did anypony say when the Pyre's supposed to re-open again?"
"Dunno. Might take a little bit. Don't think it'll be too long. She's got to earn a living at some point..." The speaker paused. "Wait, you hear that?"
The other pony strained his ears. "Yeah, it almost sounds like---"
No more words were spoken. Abruptly, the world roared with the sound of music and swept them both away.
A conflagration unlike any I've ever recalled seeing rises towards the sky (wait, there's a sky indoors?). Broken skeletons, be they human or Reploid, are scattered about (she's never even seen a human skeleton before!). Somewhere behind me past the flames, there are screams of terror and cries for mercy.
The blaze splits down the middle, and Salamandra approaches me with complete disregard for her surroundings. The scenery shifts as if bending to her will: a cemetery untended for centuries, a dilapidated tower that stretches towards the sky, a trail barely fit for traveling through a heavily forested territory, a village that scarcely qualifies as a safe haven. All the while, it feels as if her words are leading me someplace that I don't recognize.
It is a lovely night To go embrace your fears Don't run, don't cry To me, now Ponies, I am tonight's host For your trip to mania Restless hours await my present guests
You wonder: 'Who am I?' A restless raconteur Who just cannot remain silent She of dramatic hearts Burning Salamandra Is ready to assail you all with dread!
I am the mare even Tartarus fears Emerald envy that Nightmare Moon hears A bottomless tome that contains your tears I hold the words of all existing life Stories travel many, many miles Simply waiting for a listening ear And I am waiting to bring you near
In the interim between verses, creatures that are probably from this world's mythology are making themselves known. An almost transparent horse-like creature with its back half fading into oblivion, gazing at me with hatred as it passes. A star-furred bear large enough to block the entire sky, briefly giving me a look that tells me that I'm far beneath its notice as it stomps past. A tremendous beast that can only be a dragon, one of its fangs more than twice as big as I am, exerting its dominance with a roar.
This is too much, this is completely and utterly TOO MUCH!
I land before a yawning cave, its depths unfathomable. Bare meters from its entrance is a tent, its gaudy colors obvious even in the dim lighting. Salamandra emerges from it, pulls a squeaky red sphere off her nose, and chucks it over her shoulder without a care as she continues singing.
I am comedy Not just a catastrophe I wield both The horror and the fun What better way to aim To both charm and scare All of those poor souls Who seek entertainment?
Inexplicably, I find myself in a theater seat sized just right for me. I double-check for myself, and sure enough the chair is as real as I am. Salamandra continues on:
Go leave your cares behind, they're immaterial Come, take your seat Your mental doors ajar In Salamandra's world, Your thoughts intensify Patrons, brace yourself For the greatest tales ever told!
Despite having become acquainted with Drama's personality in the time I've lived here, I find myself overwhelmed by Salamandra's sheer confidence in that statement. For just a moment, she really does seem capable of telling the greatest stories in the world.
And deep down, something about that scares me.
I am the mare even Tartarus fears Emerald envy that Nightmare Moon hears A bottomless tome that contains your tears I hold the words of all existing life Stories travel many, many miles Simply waiting for a listening ear And I am waiting to bring you near
I am the mare even Tartarus fears Emerald envy that Nightmare Moon hears Digging through realms for another's home...
…
…
I can hear the coolant rushing through my systems. The Frost Javelin is in my hand, and I have no recollection of summoning it. A mob of skeletons bearing down on a lone warrior. A crowd of ponies with torches and farm tools gearing up for an assault on a foreboding castle. A lone individual braving a blizzard; why, I don't know. A building-sized spider with both many eyes and many mouths, appraising spelunkers with idle curiosity.
This is happening too fast for me to fully comprehend. I have to get my senses about me---!
...
The music comes to an abrupt stop, and my surroundings don't fade so much as shatter back into the brightness of the Pyre's auditorium. I'm no longer in a human-sized seat, but sitting in the aisleway. My weapon is in storage, not wielded for battle. It takes a second for me to realize that I'm hyperventilating; I shut my eyes long enough to get myself under control.
As for Salamandra, her countenance doesn't give me 'mysterious, charismatic storyteller' vibes anymore. Her bombastic demeanor has been derailed: she's just a normal pony now, or at least as normal as my limited experiences with her kind have showed me. “You looked like you were about to have a heart attack. I didn't realize that was possible for a robot. Did I go overboard?”
I would later learn that at this moment, not only did my eyes superimpose themselves over my helmet, but my mouth was open wide enough for Drama to see the inside of my throat. "What... was that?!"
Drama Heart's hoof awkwardly dusts off the stage before her. She's pretty much the exact opposite of 'frightening' right now. "I guess I should have warned you about the imagery. I'm sorry."
“You said you could communicate through song!” I exclaim, gesturing at the auditorium around me. “You never said you could alter reality!”
“Yes... heartsongs do that.” Drama beckons me to sit next to her on the stage, which I do. “But the effects are temporary, never lasting beyond the boundaries of the music. The magic doesn't let things go any further than that, and it reverts everything to normal once the song is concluded.”
My face has been living in my hand so much, I should start charging it rent. Drama rests her hoof on my arm, but it barely registers as I utter what has now become my catchphrase for my stay here. “Everypony... in this city... is crazy!”
What happened in that auditorium was too much for me to take. In this world, the power of music can apparently turn ponies into low-level reality warpers. I'm sorry, but I don't see how any of that is supposed to help me, or even to prove Drama's point that encouragement goes a long way.
But when I said that to her, all she said was: "Give it time." Yes, because I have so much of that now. Did she forget that I have no intention of lingering here? Neo Arcadia's my home. Equestria's just a hotel, and I've been on vacation long enough.
...
...Or was that 'motel'? I don't know what the difference is. It doesn't matter: tourism's a long-dead industry, there are no other population centers on Earth for people to travel to, and neither type of facility exists back home. Anypony scanning my memories knows what I was trying to say, anyway.
Semantics notwithstanding, Drama was able to understand that I needed to be alone for a bit and dismissed me after my latest declaration of her species' collective dementia. I decided to get some metaphorical air and went out for a walk, taking my purse with me (and making sure that a spare key that Drama had gifted to me was contained within). I exited the building through one of the windows this time, in light of my latest incident with that staircase.
On my way out, I passed two ponies who were excitedly talking to each other about being caught in the fringes of what they thought was one of Drama's rehearsals. When they saw me, I had to correct their notion that I was part of it and tell them that Drama was trying (unsuccessfully) to explain something to me. They were disappointed, but they went on gossiping about their experience as they trotted off.
Burning Salamandra: putting the "hears-e" in "rehearsal".
After a quick stop at a store to replenish my personal food supply (which has significantly more in stock this go around, hooray for newspapers), I decided to follow along with what the Royal Police suggested to me and took a trip to City Hall. The whole procedure for attaining citizenship took about half an hour, and I was informed that my papers and personal ID will be mailed to the Pyre within the next few days.
I would have expected the bureaucracy to take an era and a half to stop spinning their wheels and get their acts together, but between the R.P. mailing the paperwork to them, general magic usage, and them taking my presence seriously, it took a much shorter time than I guessed. The only way they could have gone any quicker would be if that Princess of theirs showed up in person to light a fire under them, and I was thankful for their efficiency.
Speaking of fire: while I was there, somepony asked me if I was too warm with my coat on. This wasn't an unreasonable question, taking both the summertime heat and my preference for cooler climates into account. I just told him that the temperatures didn't bother me as much as expected, and we left it at that. The truth of the matter is that my hardware runs pretty hot at peak performance, but my coolant does a fine job of keeping me... well, 'cool'. As long as I'm not subjected to something like open fire, which the type of coolant I use has trouble dealing with, then I can handle general warmth just fine.
With that said, I'd like to go on record as saying that my fights with Zero would probably be more even if he didn't have that accursed Flame Chip. Whose bright idea was it to put that Guard Orotic in charge of that factory, anyway?
With my personal complaints out of the way, I'm currently walking around more or less at random. I don't have any end goals in mind right now; I'm just bringing myself down all the way from Drama Heart's performance, taking in the sights and acquainting myself more and more with the city layout. Oh, I imagine it would be great if a way home just spontaneously materialized in front of me in the next thirty minutes, but that's about as likely as Dr. Weil voluntarily kissing a puppy.
Too, it would put a serious crimp in my plan to arm wrestle a minotaur for bragging rights. You may add that to the list of things I never thought I'd say in my life.
The atmosphere is a bit more relaxed. Ponies by and large are giving me a wide berth, but at least none of them are panicking and running away this time. Sky's on the cloudy side, so it looks like we might get some rain... scratch that, we are going to get some rain. I can see some of the clouds being moved around by pegasi, and if I focus enough... ... ... Yes, that one with the white mane's wearing some sort of flight uniform, as opposed to having a multi-colored coat. Still too far out for additional details.
It's not any of my business and I don't care if I'm caught in the rain, so I keep going and maintain my normal pace. Looking around, everything seems to be what's expected of a big city, and---
---hello, this is new. 'Manehattan Aquarium'? Can't say I've seen one of these in my life. I mean, I know they existed before, but... yeah, the scope of the destruction caused by the Elf Wars can't really be understated. I'm aware of a few private aquariums back home that housed sea life, but the 'rare' specimens they boasted used to be much more common.
But a public aquarium, now? And one that spans two floors, even? I'd say this is worth investigating.
...Or it would, if it weren't for the delay presented by a clerk who is surprised enough by my presence that he doesn't react when I request a ticket. "Excuse me, mister?"
"Aaaaaaa---"
Okay, this has been going on for almost thirty seconds. Shouldn't he need to breathe by now? "Hey."
"Aaaaaaa---"
I go through the motions of clearing my throat before trying again. "Hey."
"Aaaaaaa---"
I sigh before addressing the other ponies in the lobby. "Would someone smack the clerk for me, please? I think he's stuck."
Those present seem reluctant to do so, though whether they don't want to hit him or are uncomfortable in my presence is unclear. I frown, ideas for snapping him out of it racing forwards and backwards through my processor before being discarded.
The aquarium's front door opens, permitting an olive-colored earth pony foal. "...Permit me," she says in a dull tone, her voice close enough to a whisper that I can barely hear her. She gestures with her hooves at the counter. "...A lift?"
Either talking's too much effort for this one, or she's outright done with the world's oddities. I think I actually heard the ellipses in her request. I shrug and pick up the pony, balancing her on one hand and bringing her up to the counter. "Here you go."
The foal doesn't waste time thanking me or relishing the experience of being picked up by an affable alien robot, instead reaching for the clerk. In a maneuver that makes everypony flinch, myself included, she grabs a hair on his mustache and yanks it off---
OKAY, THEN. That is very much a new sound. So that's what happens when you fuse a shriek with a neigh. I did not honestly wonder that. "Ghehhh! Little pony, what was that for?!" the clerk protests as he regains his breath, no longer stuck. "Where's your parents?"
"...That's what I'm wondering," the foal states, her voice not rising above that near-whisper. She blows a lock of black hair away from her eyes, the only outward sign of her annoyance. "...So I would appreciate it if you stopped making that noise and did your job. You're not making our wait any easier." She jumps out of my hand to the ground and exits the lobby as if what had just transpired hadn't.
"I'm not the only one who thinks that behavior is very unchildlike, am I?" I ask the lobby at large. I nod when all of them, the now-not-quite-so-stunned clerk among them, mutter in agreement. "I thought so."
"Ergh... sorry about that," the clerk says, wincing as he taps his upper lip before hiding his residual pain with a smile. "I just wasn't expecting to meet you."
"I'll forgive you if you let me purchase a ticket for the day. How much do you charge?"
"Individual tickets are 30 bits for adults and 10 for foals or the nearest species-equivalent," the clerk explains. "If you're part of a group of three or more, you get fifty percent off from each. Of course, if you intend to purchase refreshments, it'll cost you extra. Finally, season passes are 120 bits per costumer."
"I'll just take an adult ticket for now," I decide as I count off 30 bits from my purse and hand them over. "If I like what I see, I can always upgrade..."
I can't think of too many ways to relax that would be just as good for me as what I'm doing now. I've said before that being here in this city was like being sent back to the past, and this is one of those times where it is actually a good thing. There are a handful of species I recognize as being still around to some extent or another, but virtually all of the rest are either extinct or getting pretty close.
And that's without getting into the specimens that I'm positive are native to this world. Rainbow trout aren't literally rainbow colored, to my knowledge.
Right now, I'm seated on a bench in front of a large tank of salt water fish that I'm told are native to the sea around Manehattan. Would that my frame was fully repaired right now, and that they permitted guests to swim in the tank. If they did, I'd be right there in the water with them. But sadly, that's a huge no-no.
That's another thing I want to add to my agenda: upon reaching full functionality, I intend to take a deep sea dive. Watching life go by on the outside of a tank is one thing, but it's not the same as being up close and personal with the ocean's denizens. I feel sorry for those people who live on land: they're limited to short sojourns through the water without the aid of special equipment. If I didn't have to replenish my Energen now and then, I'd be spending practically all of my time underwater. There's just so much to enjoy down there. Take it from me.
I watch a winter flounder swim up to the glass and drift there for a bit before going on its way, and I smile as it does. Peace. There's nothing like it, I muse to myself as I close my eyes.
"M-MANNEQUIN!"
And for that, I am grateful.
I open one eye, taking in my surroundings. Sure enough, Gray Ghost and her daughter are in the room with me. This time, they're not alone: a stallion and three more foals, one of whom is the emotionless one from earlier, are eyeing me interestedly. "Ebony, we talked about this!" Gray softly chastises her oldest child as the latter cowers behind her mother. "Close your eyes and pretend you're talking to another pony!"
While the young mare struggles to get her act together, I make a split second appraisal of the whole family. The stallion is looking between me and Ebony, probably considering something related to her phobia. The quiet foal is staring at me with an equally quiet intensity, eyes half-closed. The larger (and obstensibly older) of her brothers beams up at me, happy as a clam and shivering with excitement. The wide-eyed youngest of the group---
"HUGS!"
---has a death grip on my ankle. Ponies are really big on physical contact, aren't they? "Don't do that, please," I tell him firmly, working his hooves loose. His response is to whicker softly and tighten his grip, not wanting to let go yet.
The stallion steps forward to help out. At a glance, I take in his life preserver Cutie Mark and generally good-looking appearance (at least compared to other stallions I've seen up until now; how does one judge beauty in an alien race?). "Come on, little guy. Let her go," he says, coaxing him away from my leg. "Let's not bother her right now."
"Your species' social norms take some getting used to," I comment wryly, though I still favor the foal with a smile to let him know I wasn't upset at him.
"I wasn't expecting to meet you here today, Fairy," Gray Ghost tells me by way of a greeting. "Are you trying to get back to your element?"
"Things got a little weird at the Pyre this morning," I answer. "I went for a walk to clear my head, came across this place, and here I am."
Gray tilts her head a fraction. "By 'weird', you mean..."
"Salamandra blinded me with music and hit me with her harmony," I tell her bluntly. "It was poetry in motion, and I didn't like it."
It doesn't take long for Gray to work out what I said. Quirky as she is, she's pretty smart. "Experienced a 'heartsong' for the first time, huh? I'm sorry that you had to get a crash course in those from Sally, of all ponies. She's a little bit over the top."
I'd label that a candidate for 'biggest understatement of the year'.
"...What's a 'heartsong'?" the quiet child inquires.
"You remember two months ago when your mother went on a tangent about how wonderful her family was when she thought nopony was watching?" her father explains.
"W-Wait a sec," Ebony cuts in, pointedly looking someplace other than me. "That was a heartsong? I could've sworn that I was just dreaming all of that."
"I used to be confused about the concept myself, Ebony," the stallion assures her. "Trust me."
"Dreams and music aside, Fairy, I'd like for you to offically meet my family," Gray says to me, her pride clear in her voice and face. "My dear husband, Ocean Guard..."
A polite nod and smile from the stallion in question. "Hello."
"My first child, Ebony Evening..."
"D-Don't look at me right now!" the mare demands nervously, staring at the fish tank... then recoiling when she realizes that she can still see my reflection in the glass.
A gesture towards Little Mister Excitement. "The second oldest is Pure Energy. We named him for a Bulletin Community song."
"Hi hi hi! Tell me what's on your mind!" the bouncy colt greets me, his words just as much of a blur as he is. My mind is able to slow him down frame-by-frame, allowing me to see his spiral-esque Cutie Mark.
Gray then turns towards the emotionless filly. "Next up is Fiver, short for Five-of-a-Kind."
"...We've met," Fiver says after a moment's pause, eyes still locked on mine. That voice of hers is starting to get unnerving.
I return her stare for a few seconds before looking back at Gray. "Isn't that a bit of a jump from hyperactivity to hyper-stoicism?"
Gray delivers a dejected sigh. "Bothersome as that is, I'm more concerned with her Cutie Mark. What playing cards shaped like fangs have to do with calmness, I don't have a clue."
"...Give it time," Fiver responds without looking away. Her blinks are just as slow as everything else about her. "I'll work out my destiny eventually."
Her mother smiles confidently at her, then gestures at her youngest. "And last but certainly not least, Zig-Zag. But we typically just call him 'Zeke'."
A fitting name, I suppose. I lean forward and smile down at the huggy colt. "Nice to meet you, little one," I greet him politely. "Please, just call me 'Fairy'."
Zeke doesn't answer at first, instead gazing at me with those large orange eyes of his. I'm assuming that now that he's not trying to hug me impulsively, he is trying its best to see me for what I am. Finally he gives me the type of smile that only someone as carefree as a child can give. "Hi, Fairy robot lady," he chirps. "You're very pretty!"
Must... resist... urge... to squeal!
Gray snorts, amused. "I know that look. That's the face of somepony enthralled by sheer innocent cuteness. Zeke has that effect on others, Fairy. You're going to have to give in sooner or later."
"It's half that and half your species being very huggable by my creators' standards." Stop blushing, Leviathan! That's an order! "I'm afraid that if I start, I'm not going to stop."
"I don't know whether to be annoyed or thankful for her self-restraint," Ocean Guard muttered to his wife.
"Thankful," Ebony and Fiver respond immediately.
"Annoyed!" Energy and Zeke counter, though they are smiling as they say it. At the very least, they don't seem upset.
Gray shrugged. "I don't mind being hugged. I give you leave." She looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Huh. What would it be like to be hugged by an alien species?"
"I'm not going to hug anypony," I tell them. "I have standards to maintain. Anyway, now that I've met the entire gang, what sort of happenstance brings you to the aquarium?"
Ocean Guard takes the reins of the discussion from Gray. "The four of us had been out of town visiting my sister when you arrived in the neighborhood. We'd made prior arrangements to spend the day here as a family and make up for lost time before I went back to work."
"Ah. Family outing." I clasp my hands in my lap and look back up at the aquarium. "Well, don't let me keep you. It will probably be a while before I leave this room." I smile. "I'm just enjoying this too much."
"Alright, then. You have a good day. Everypony?" He gestures to a door leading to the next room. "They have a shark exhibit around here somewhere. You all want to check it out?"
With a cheer (including a deadpan "...Yay" thrown in the mix), most of the family leaves the room. Surprisingly, Fiver is the first to reach the door; from her behavior, I wouldn't have pegged her to be enthused about much of anything. Maybe she's just into sharks?
Even more surprisingly, Ebony is lingering in the room even after her mother leaves. She's shivering enough to make her chattering teeth audible from where I'm sitting, but she's lingering. "Miss Evening? Your family's going on with---"
"I KNOW!" she blurts out, cutting me off. Another pony in the room jumps in surprise and turns to glare at her, but she's too anxious to notice. "J-just... don't rush me, okay?! I h-have to do this!"
...Huh. Well, alright then.
I turn my attention back to the fish tank, silently reading off the plaques beneath it that described its residents. Just give her time, I tell myself. I imagine that if she wants to talk to me about something, it's best not to rush it. Not with that fear of me she has.
Ebony couldn't stop repeating the words in her mind. She had let herself stay behind in a room with one of her worst fears... willingly.
And that was the kicker right there. After her mother had read off the details about Leviathan from the newspaper, Ebony was able to start telling herself that the robot wasn't out to get her just because its clothes and perfectly constructed face made it look like a mannequin. From there, she'd started thinking: "Maybe I should at least try to say 'thank you' for returning my things? Or at least apologize to it for Mom being so strange?" She broached the topic with Gray that night, and despite her mother's belief that she was trying to jump too far too soon, she agreed to let Ebony try it the next time they crossed paths with the Reploid.
But like with so many things in life, it was easier said than done. Her lifelong fear of the lifeless looking alive predictably reared its ugly head the moment she saw Leviathan, and only the presence of her family and the protection they offered prevented her from fleeing. When that presence shifted to elsewhere in the aquarium, Ebony found herself doubting her ability to hold fast. She wanted nothing more than to flee the room screaming.
Whimpering, she slowly turned so that Leviathan was at the edge of her vision and risked opening one eye. If she was being watched, she needed to know.
The robot wasn't looking at her; rather, her gaze was fixed squarely on the fish tank... and she was smiling. Despite herself, Ebony couldn't help checking on what it was that had her so transfixed, and was a bit disappointed to see that it was just some salmon. A common sight in the area, and nothing too unusual. There's nothing thrilling a-about this room. W-why is she...
"The Atlantic salmon."
Ebony flinched and turned away, but the robot didn't get up to go after her. Instead, she continued speaking in a voice that could be construed as... melancholy? "This was once one of the most common fish to be found back home. Centuries ago, it was widespread enough to be seen as a staple of some countries' diets. Despite damage to its habitat in certain areas, it was believed that any danger of it dying out was minimal to none."
As the robot continued speaking, Ebony got the impression that she was talking to her... and that somepony had started playing music in the background. "The Elf Wars did more damage to my homeworld than most people realize. Multiple threatened and endangered species went extinct, and those that were once common became in jeopardy of being wiped out. The Atlantic salmon... or just the North Celestial salmon, as it's known around here... nearly became one of the casualties. While carrying out one last assignment prior to my combat conversion, I witnessed a school of this fish living as nature intended. Most of my numbers are years out of date, so I only have that sighting to prove that the species hasn't gone extinct yet. Could be more, could be less... I don't know."
For a moment, Ebony still didn't understand why Leviathan was smiling... but then it clicked together. With some effort, she forced some words past her teeth. "Y-you... you l-love this place, don't y-you?"
"If by 'this place' you mean the aquarium," Leviathan stated, "yes. Seeing all these species not only surviving but thriving? Had this been back home, I would have seen this as the culmination of what I worked for. I would have seen this as proof that my efforts weren't for nothing. And I probably would have decided to live the rest of my life just floating on top of the ocean, going wherever the currents carried me: my own personal paradise. Unfortunately, barring some miracle or five, that isn't going to happen." She closed her eyes and sighed, then continued watching the fish contentedly. "So for now, I'll have to be satisfied with this glimpse of how things once were."
Perhaps it was the music somehow influencing her, but for just a moment Ebony saw Leviathan as someone with much deeper thoughts than what lay on the surface. It... s-she has too m-much personality, the young mare realized. T-too much to be seen as l-lifeless. She looked up to try and meet her in the eyes, but turned away when the sight still proved more than she could take.
"Don't feel that you have to confront me," Leviathan chided her gently. "If you're afraid of me, you can always catch up to your parents and try again another time. I won't think less of you for it."
"N-no," Ebony said in refusal. “I-if I can't g-get my mind to see y-you as somepony h-harmless, then I-I'm never going to get over this f-fear!” She shivered and brought herself down low, all but hugging the floor. “Blast it, I-I can't do t-this myself. My h-heart's telling me y-you're harmless, and m-my brain's h-hitting it with a tennis r-racket! P-please tell me there's some way you can meet m-me halfway on t-this!”
“...Well, I have one idea,” Leviathan admitted, her face having the look of somepony who had tried to drink curdled milk. “But it's going to involve me making a liar of myself not ten minutes after the fact.”
“W-what are you---”
Ebony was interrupted as Leviathan scooted off the bench to sit on her knees on the floor. The m-mare's heart skipped a beat as the robot set her helmet aside, a full head of blue-and-white locks falling free. S-she... she has an a-actual mane?! T-there... there's n-no way that can be r-real! Mom didn't read me a-anything about this f-from the paper!
But she was even more surprised when Leviathan beckoned her forward. Ebony's ears lowered. “Y-you're kidding me. T-that's your idea of meeting me h-halfway? I thought you s-said y-you weren't going t-to hug anypony!”
“To be honest, I'm running low on good ideas,” Leviathan answered. “Miss Evening, we have at least three eyewitnesses in here that will really let me have it if I try anything funny.” She gestured at said eyewitnesses, two tourists and an aquarium employee who were attracted by the goings-on. “Can you think of a better way for me to prove to you, once and for all, that I'm not going to hurt you? Here's an idea: try pretending that I'm a spider you're getting ready to squash.”
If Ebony hadn't been shivering so much, she might have laughed at that one. Some part of her agreed that the idea had some merit. “I... I will t-try,” she forced out, eyes shutting. H-hunting a-a s-spider, h-hunting a s-spider, h-hunting a spider, hunting a spider, wandering, trapdoor, wolf, black widow, tarantula---! Forcing her muscles to cooperate, she leaped forward with one hoof raised to strike. “GOTCHA NOW, SPIDER!”
A pair of hands reached out, one of them deflecting Ebony's attack and the other reaching behind her withers. The impact brought on by a jumping adolescent pony made Leviathan grunt, but not much more than that, and she was able to join hands behind Ebony's back and hold her close. As if driven by the music, an image of a fully-intact Leviathan sitting atop a glacier flashed past her vision.
As expected, her brain began having a freak-out when it realized that she was being touched by a mannequin. Her eyes shot open to their maximum and dilated to their tiniest, her heart rate sped up to near-dangerous levels, and her neurons began rioting in the streets...
…
...But they all stalled when they registered one tiny, seemingly insignificant detail. “...W...w-wha... that's impossible! How the...”
A blink. “What are you talking about?”
Ebony closed her eyes, reaching up and tentatively resting a hoof on Leviathan's chin to see if she wasn't imagining things. Withdrawing it after only a second, she struggled to get her words out in a way that made sense. Trying to pretend she wasn't being hugged helped, though only a little. "It's... w-well, ...you're not cold."
"What do you mean?"
"You're m-made of metal. You're a giant walking d-doll! How c-could you not be c-cold?"
An 'ohhhh' left Leviathan's lips as she understood the source of the mare's confusion. "Ebony, I might prefer the cold, but I do need at least some heat to function at my best. Ideally, my internal temperature should be somewhere in the vicinity of 70°F. Lower than what I imagine ponies' temperatures to be, but not so low that it subjects my hardware to thermal expansion each time I rouse myself from hibernation. It's like I told somepony at City Hall earlier: my hardware runs pretty hot, so there's a balance required. Of course, it's easier to maintain if my frame's fully intact..."
"Is that w-why you bought that c-coat? T-to keep y-yourself warm?"
Leviathan's expression soured again as she let Ebony go. "Actually, I just bought that because enough ponies 'suggested' that I cover up,” she explained as the pony backed away to a safe distance. “I got the impression that my damage was creeping ponies out. Except for your mother and Drama Heart, of course."
Ebony stared down at her hooves, ashamed. "I-I'm sorry..."
"I wasn't referring to you specifically. Don't concern yourself with it."
"N-no, i-it's not that, i-it's..." She squeezed her eyes shut again, her heart still a bit jittery. Just pretend s-she's a pony. Come on, just pretend, i-it shouldn't be that difficult... "I... it's about Mom. You k-know, how she acts..."
"I don't have a bad impression of her, if that's what you're thinking," Leviathan stated, her voice encouraging. "She seems smart and capable, and very family-oriented. Also quirky, but then again almost every pony I've met is. Her tendency to sneak up on me is bothersome, but in the long run I can't really hold that against her. You have nothing to apologize for." A beat, then: "If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you."
This time, Ebony's eyes stayed open. "Wha...? Why? Y-you... you haven't done anything wrong."
Leviathan's eyes, now that the unicorn was meeting them straight on, were gentle and non-judging. "If I had some way of controlling where I ended up and who I would meet on my arrival, I'd like to think that I wouldn't have ended up causing you trouble solely by my existence. I'm no stranger to phobias, Miss Evening. I know how bothersome they can be." Her eyelids slowly fell closed. "For what little it's worth, I'm sorry for the stress my being here caused you."
She's... actually apologizing to me for being what she is...! "D-don't..." Ebony found herself fractionally relaxing. Her brain, which had been protesting all the while against what she had been doing for the past few minutes, found itself without a proper rebuttal. For those few moments, her shivering ceased. "We both know that you're more than just walking metal, so don't say stupid things like that. I'll keep trying to overcome my fear of you, and you just keep trying to get home. Agreed?"
A soft "kya-hahahaha" tickled her hearing as Leviathan put her helmet back where it belonged. "Agreed. Is that everything you wanted to say?"
Ebony's moment of bravery came to an end, and she looked away. "Y-yeah. I... g-guess I'll catch up with Mom and t-the others. They're probably w-wondering what's taking me so long. Um... bye-bye!" She turned and hustled off, annoyed at not being able to say anything more profound before leaving, but unwilling to stay any longer before her brain went on strike again.
...
Part-way through the next exhibit, Ebony stopped for a moment to look back at Leviathan, who had returned to the bench and resumed staring at the fish. This time, she failed to suppress her shivers entirely. "A l-little at a time, Eebon. Little at a t-time," she told herself, trotting off at a less hurried pace as the music she'd been hearing faded out. "Progress is progress."
All the while she tried to convince a traitorous part of her heart that being hugged by Leviathan hadn't been strangely comforting in its own way.
...
...
...
"Well," one of the on-lookers comments, "that was drama if I ever saw it."
My eye's twitching again at the mention of that word. "Don't remind me."
Wow. Has it really been two hours since I had my meeting with Gray's family? Time doesn't just fly; it breaks the sound barrier on top of that. I hadn't even left that room the entire time. Watching the inhabitants of that salt water tank had just been too entrancing.
If you said that you hadn't expected me to upgrade to a season pass before I left, I would've called you a liar.
I haven't seen Ebony or the others since that meeting, so I have to assume they're probably deeper into the aquarium. Doesn't matter now; I've got nothing else to do, so I'm currently walking back to the Pyre as the clouds above start sprinkling.
And that will give me some time to think about what I learned.
I wasn't blind to what was going on while I was ruminating on the existence of the Atlantic salmon. Only someone deaf or otherwise hard-of-hearing would have missed the music that was playing for the next few minutes, and I have to believe that it was a factor in Ebony getting enough of a grip to talk to me.
The thing is, I didn't believe that I was the source of that music, as lovely as it was.
Lack of video screens and computers notwithstanding, the Equestrians' technology levels are all over the place. I initially believed that whoever it was running the aquarium had been piping in music somehow. However, an examination of the room I was in showed no evidence of such: no speakers, no magical trinkets, nothing. A quick inquiry at the front desk revealed that while such technology did exist and was used in some parts of Manehattan (most notably at the larger stores and the odd carnival), the aquarium's owners had no plans of installing that system in the facility for the foreseeable future.
In addition, I am innately familiar with my own hardware and what it can do. I don't have any sort of apparatus installed in me that would let me play music at will, as much as I would like to. I can certainly imagine some coolant-pumping theme or other playing while I have another dance with Zero. And as I've stated previously, I am physically incapable of singing in my own voice.
So the question has been raised: where did that music come from?
My mind's going back to what Drama told me earlier this morning about heartsongs. According to her, they're capable of manifesting with the aid of this world's ambient magic when somepony feels strongly enough about something that they want to sing about it. Whether it's mundane or not and whether it's important or not, it can still happen.
A combat Reploid I may be, but I've never forgotten my origins. My initial goal was to make the environment better piece by piece following wartime, whether on my own or with help. Losing my way in later years didn't change my mission at a fundamental level. Along with the fact that I found them so relaxing and fun to be around, this helped my fondness for sea life to develop over time. These are my reasons why I want to go home so badly: I want to protect the world, to help it flourish as it once did many years before. Being able to fight Zero again is just a bonus.
That, I think as I hold out my hand and feel the raindrops splashing against my palm, is the key. Words cannot describe my loyalty towards my home and what I want to do once I return. My feelings for these things are strong, very much so. You would have an easier time convincing me to stick a rubber ball on my nose and pretend I'm a clown than you would getting me to abandon my quest. Plain and simply put, I will be going home.
And when those feelings spilled out while I was talking to Ebony, they manifested as an electronic beat and siren-like wailing. It wasn't just the music that appeared, either; for a few moments, it felt like I was sitting atop a glacier instead of a wooden bench. The subtle twisting of reality to provide that mental image was weak, as it didn't persist after that instance, but the fact that it happened at all speaks volumes.
Was this what Drama was talking about when she said that I wouldn't have to worry about singing in a voice that wasn't my own? And does this mean that I, a machine without any magic at all, would still be able to take advantage of it somehow?
If so, then that opens up more than a few... opportunities, provided I can find a way to exploit them while I'm here.
A taxi carriage stops next to me on the road, and its driver asks me if I'm good out in this rain. I consider his implied suggestion, then point out that I'm good: this sort of weather is what I live for. He shrugs, but accepts this and takes off in search of others who may not share my enthusiasm.
Hmm... maybe I should have accepted his offer. I might shed water easily, but the same can't be said of my coat and purse. Neither of them are waterproof. I guess I should hurry along, then.
Keeping a hand on my purse, I trigger my Dash Thrusters and jet off down the sidewalk. Slower than the pegasi but faster than any of these ponies can run, I'm able to eat up the distance remaining between myself and the Pyre quickly and easily.
...
As I turn onto the street that my home base is situated at, I see one of the local mailponies leaving the Pyre in a hurry. Not paying him any mind, I enter the theater and drape my coat and purse around a chair in the corner. "Drama? I'm home, such as it is," I call out.
"Welcome back," the familiar voice called from her office. "Mind coming in? Some of this mail is for you."
For me? Given the recent newspaper, I guess it's an inevitability. I enter the office, taking note of the dozen or so envelopes on Drama's desk. "Less than I expected."
"Ten to one that most ponies don't think you can read yet," Drama comments in jest, setting aside her own mail.
"Or that they're too afraid to start begging 'notice me, alien!' to my face," I reply in the same tone, sorting through the mail. "Let's see, we've got what looks like six letters from individuals around Manehattan... five from assorted businesses, and..." My eyes widen at an envelope that's made of much finer materials than the rest, stamped with an intricate emblem depicting a winged unicorn. It takes a few seconds to parse the overly fancy writing, but... "Princess Celestia, c/o Canterlot Castle?"
Drama almost falls out of her seat at this. "The Princess?!" she exclaims, eager to see what it is. "What are you waiting for, the tides? Open it!"
I don't need further encouragement. Without delay, I tear open the envelope and remove its contents, unfolding them. It turns out not be mere paper like I've seen elsewhere, but tightly compressed parchment. The same emblem that was on the envelope decorates the top of the letter.
As for the text, it's written in the same fancy style that the address on the envelope had been. That's another thing that sets this world apart from mine: this sort of font is a lost art. It can be synthesized with a computer easily, but actually taking a pen in your hand and writing in a way that confuses anyone who tries to read it? I was under the impression that it was another practice that came to an end in the 21st century. After people learn the alphabet, they're content to let computers do all the work for them under the assumption that they'll never need to do actual writing.
Looking at this, they have no idea what they're missing.
Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia Canterlot Castle
Fairy Leviathan Deep Sea Squadron, Neo Arcadia c/o Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears, Manehattan, Equestria
Dear Ms. Leviathan,
I offer you my greetings, and my hope that the day you receive this finds you well. I am sure that a few ponies have done this for you already, but allow me to officially welcome you to Equestria.
Thanks to your interview with the Minutes, the Crown has been made aware of your desire to return home. I have been on one or two sojourns to other worlds in the far distant past, but the planet you described is outside of my experience. I am loathe to discuss those experiences in detail for personal reasons, but I can at least safely say that ponies were prevalent in those worlds. If you are any indication then we do not exist where you are from, at least not as a sapient species. As such, I do not consider myself an expert in the field.
This does not mean that we are unable to provide assistance, however. Research by my most trusted staff is under way here in Canterlot to determine if any methods of traveling to specific worlds exist. In addition, discreet inquiries will be made both here and around the nation to see what avenues are open to us. Since you will most likely keep your ears open where you are, I would like to suggest that we collaborate on this. If you are willing to keep us informed, then we shall do the same.
As for your combat capabilities, actions speak louder than words. It is one thing to capture some petty thieves, or engage in a friendly competition; it is quite another to put your strength to a real test. It is true that Equestria is a peaceful nation on the whole, but we are not without our champions. As such, once you have decided that you have fully recovered, I would like to challenge you to a practice match against a proxy of my choosing. To avoid raising the expectations of third parties, I will not notify your prospective opponent of this until you accept my invitation, so I await your reply.
On a lighter note, I apologize if I shocked you with my display the other day. I would like to request that you not view me as somepony out of reach, inscrutable, or truly frightening. Everything I've read about you tells me that you mean us no harm, and only those who are genuine, unrepentant threats to my little ponies deserve my wrath. My thoughts and feelings are the same as any other of my kind, and I would like to think that I am able to welcome anypony with good intentions. So please: if you ever want to talk to somepony, I am more than willing to receive your letters. Feel free to write to me about anything at all, Ms. Leviathan, whether it is for the sake of updates or simply to pass the time of day.
I am available as a friend, should you want one.
Best wishes,
Princess Celestia
P.S. - My cooking staff does not allow this 'Heartbreakers' candy in the castle, so I have not had the opportunity to try it for myself. Is it really as densely packed with sugar as Mr. Hassleberry claimed it was, or was he just being funny?
As I read the letter to the end, there's a variety of emotions affecting me.
First off is surprise, albeit of the more pleasant variety. I was expecting to have to carry out the search entirely on my own, but here the Princess is already spreading the word of my dilemma and sparing me the need to travel. Best case scenario, we can find something that works in record time. Worst case, somepony at least cares enough to take my situation seriously. Either way this is good news, assuming that she's being legitimate.
Secondly, we have eagerness. The thieves I caught put up a halfway decent showing in light of how far out of their league I was, but I'd believed that they were some of the best that the city offered in terms of skill. The Princess' phrasing is leading me to believe that they have somepony capable of pushing me. If this is true, I can keep myself from getting soft and have myself a fun time in so doing. Sadly it will probably be a land battle only, but it's not keeping my inner warrior from slamming its fists together.
And finally... I'm actually somewhat touched. When one pictures a ruler, most people don't imagine them as being truly "approachable". By this, you don't really expect them to take time off from their busy jobs and interact with the masses on a face-to-face basis as if they occupied the same station or knew them personally, never mind the breaches of etiquette that would result. It should also be pointed out that exceptions to this are few and far between.
But that offer she made...
I had a friend, once. He was just a human I'd met after the first time I'd teamed up with Harpuia to make some place or other livable again. He'd complimented me, stated that he appreciated the work that we were doing, and was all-around charming. Having someone to talk to on an even keel was a novelty, so I stayed in contact with him for some time.
After Copy X took over and things took a turn for the worse, my relationship with the man soured quickly. One day we were trading messages back and forth, and he called me out on "dancing to the tune of a madman" and culling Reploids whose only crime was living; I 'defended' myself, such as it was, by stating that Master X's orders were absolute and intended for Neo Arcadia's security. He was having none of it, telling me that I meant the security of humans, not humans and Reploids both, and disconnected the transmission. I tried to call him back the next day, only to receive an automatic message stating that my personal terminal was being prevented from contacting him.
Somehow, he'd managed to put two and two together and figure out that the situation in Neo Arcadia was not what it appeared to be; you can count the number of humans who'd figured it out on both hands. He never took up arms against the regime, possibly due to a lack of courage, but he never supported it either. Obviously, that little fight wasn't enough to deter me from following the course I was on. After that last conversation I never saw or heard from him again, and during lulls in activity I wonder if he's doing alright.
And I still ponder whether or not he hates me. He was smart, but I have my doubts that he ever learned the truth about the three of us "acting in Master X's stead" after the mad leader was defeated by Zero.
Now we have this. In my interview with Mr. Lede, I'd opened my heart to Equestria. Nothing was restricted information: I told them everything I considered good about myself, and made no effort to hide everything that I knew was bad. And today, here comes the nation's sovereign ruler armed with that knowledge, writing to me directly and telling me that she was willing to be my friend in spite of my flaws. She even apologized for her stunt with the sun. This is just unbelievable...
...
...but blazes if it doesn't make me feel like I'm on top of the world.
I say as much to Drama, and she giggles. "Take your time and figure out how you're going to respond," she says. "This isn't the sort of situation that you can just rush into."
I roll my eyes. "She's asking if I want to be her friend, not if I want to go out on a date. I'm fairly certain those are meant to be mutually exclusive."
“If you say so,” she says, obviously not believing me as she reaches for her own mail. “You're going to go through the rest of your messages now, or later?”
“Maybe later,” I decide. “I haven't done any of my regular training exercises since I arrived, and there's enough space on-stage for me to move about freely. If I'm going to be fighting somepony in the future, I want to be ready.”
“You have your fun, then.” Drama waves me off and turns back to her desk, using her horn as a letter opener to tear through the envelope she was holding. “Just don't break anything, or you'll be cleaning it up solo.”
“Yes, I know, I know,” I say as I leave the office.
Alright, let's see. No access to water, so Exercise and Dance #1 should be satisfactory---
I stumble as Drama's window-rattling shriek tries to bowl me over. That noise had several degrees of 'delight' wrapped around it. "Drama, what is it?" I call as I hustle back into her office. "Is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong? Is something wrong?!" Drama's waving a paper around, getting that same look on her face that she had when... we first met oh father of Omega. "Fairy, I just got a letter from my baby sister in Baltimare! She just had it confirmed that she's pregnant with twins!" She slams the letter down and launches herself at me before I can react, hitting me with a flying tackle that knocks me off my feet, and---wow that's the biggest natural smile I've seen on a pony's face yet. I think I can see my reflection in her teeth. "I'm going to be an aunt! Celestia, I'm going to be an aunt!"
Almost immediately upon saying those words, she jumps off and tears off out of the office. "Gotta find my suitcase! If I'm fast enough I can catch the next train to Baltimare!" The noise of her galloping up the stairs and her voice taking on a melodious tint both reach me. "Auntie Salamandra's on her way, baby darlings~!"
It takes a few seconds for me to find my voice again, and by then she's out of earshot. All that just happened way too quickly. "But... the kids aren't even born yet," I protest weakly as I stand back up. Please don't ask me to housesit, please don't ask me to housesit...
...
...
"Be back in three days! Don't do anything I wouldn't do, and even a few things I would!" Drama instructs me fifteen minutes later, laden with her saddlebags and carrying a stuffed suitcase in her magic. She pats my hand, then she's out the door like a shot. She just barely remembers to lock it behind her before she's gone. "Gonna be an auunnnttt!"
My vision's wavering. There's a new message in my HUD: 'Left eyelid malfunctioning.' "Really wishing I'd taken up Phantom's offer of stealth training right now," I complain to the empty lobby.
"...and based on the report, it looks as if the search has come up empty so far," Captain Shining Armor reported to Princess Celestia in the latter's chambers. "But then again, we haven't gone so far as to check in with every magic user in the city. Not everypony we've spoken to wants to get involved in this, and you've already instructed us to be discreet about it."
"That is fair," Celestia decided. "If they want to stay out of this, forcing them to obey is hardly a good idea. Have your Guardsponies finish up here in Canterlot and continue their search in Ponyville, but tell them not to hurry. Just because we've decided to help our wayward machine return home doesn't mean that we have to rush or be pushy. All in due time."
Shining saluted his superior. "As ordered, Princess. Is there anything else?"
Celestia started to tell him 'no', but thought better of it at the last moment. "Actually, just one. Following the revelation of her presence and abilities in the Minutes, I sent Fairy Leviathan a letter informing her of my intention to test her abilities. All I'm waiting for is either confirmation or rejection of my offer. I expect it will take at least another few days before I hear back from her."
"Assuming she agrees, will you be wanting me to determine that she's everything she says she is? My schedule's clear enough that I can afford to spend some time in Manehattan."
Celestia shook her head, smiling as she made a quick decision. "I'll need you down there sometime in the near future, but not to fight. You'll be required to officiate."
Doing the math, one of Shining's eyebrows disappeared under his helmet. "Officiate? I wasn't aware we had anypony truly combat-capable living down there."
"And for good reason," Celestia stated. "The individual I have in mind was one of their Royal Police's best and brightest. Criminals feared her. The citizens felt safer around her. She loved practical jokes, but she knew how to separate work and play, and she took her duties seriously." One corner of her mouth twitched. "And to borrow one of your expressions, she was 'an absolute beast' in combat. But then she found love, and she decided that raising her family took precedence over her career. After she married, she quit her job and disappeared for fifteen years. I only discovered that she was alive and well when she alerted me to Leviathan's existence ahead of the newspaper."
"That would explain why I never heard of her, if she was off the grid for so long," Shining commented, sounding impressed. "But if she spent so long inactive, wouldn't her skills have dulled too much for her to be an adequate gauge for Leviathan's prowess?"
"A reasonable question to ask," Celestia agreed. "But I don't feel that there's anything to worry about. I have little doubt that she's practicing her combat exercises on a rooftop somewhere, making sure that her skills are still sharp. She always did have an eerie knack for figuring out when she was needed, even if much of her rationale revolved around pure guesswork and randomness..."
Gray stared at the grouper through the thick glass of its tank, and the grouper stared back.
Ocean Guard edged up to his wife. "Dear," he said quietly, "I know that look. What are you thinking about?"
Gray licked her lips. "I'm thinking that I need to do something about this unnatural craving for fish sticks that I'm having," she responded without turning her head.
Behind her, the children face-hoofed as one. Their father, being more charmed than put off by his wife's quirks, just smiled and joined her in watching the fish.
The ponies I've been interacting with most are one who thinks she's part-cat with a penchant for jump-scares, and one who would be considered certifiably insane back home. With all due respect, I hope you don't let whatever quirks you might have go to your head. Otherwise, this friendship you're offering is going to go south real quick. If we can keep things civil at worst and professional at best, that would be wonderful.
I'm sorry if I sound a bit dour in this letter. My patron found out that a family member was pregnant and took off for Baltimare not an hour ago as of this writing, leaving me alone and in charge of the theater until she returns in three days. The logistics of running a military squadron are very different from those of house-sitting a civilian operation, never mind a theater, so I'm out of my element. I'm contemplating just hanging a sign on the door and putting myself in hibernation until she comes home.
So to pass the time, I have a question I want to ask you. Assuming you're as long-lived as everypony claims you are, you've probably read your fair share of fiction. If you have, then you've likely seen stories about those that end up trapped in other worlds. What's your perspective on them? Obviously no one story is going to be able to please everypony, but if the author at least tries to show as many relevant perspectives as possible--with emphasis on relevant--wouldn't you agree that getting others to see the bigger picture is one of their primary goals?
The reason I bring that up is because I once had someone I viewed as a genuine friend. That friendship ultimately ended thanks to my insistence on following the orders of a maniac, though from time to time I still wonder if he's doing alright. The fact that he was right all along and I was just too blind to see it indicates to me that my perspective was incomplete, that I wasn't able to see the bigger picture. And the fact that I'm still alive after being thoroughly disintegrated tells me that my own journey is not complete, that I still have work that I need to do somewhere.
With that in mind, I would like to get your point of view. Bear in mind that I'm not trying to sound suspicious or accusatory when I ask this: what is your ulterior motive in wanting to become friends with me? What could I possibly have done to earn that sort of attention from somepony who probably has a hundred better things to do--like, say, running the country? What sort of role do you want to play in this story that hasn't yet ended?
Don't get me wrong; your invitation was a very pleasant surprise, and I'm happy to have gotten it. It's just that operating with incomplete information rankles to some degree, and I'd prefer not to go through that again. The need to see the bigger picture is something I need to keep reminding myself of, lest I fall into the same trap that I did before.
Regarding your question about the Heartbreakers, I am unclear. One of my acquaintances referred to them as "the Holy Grail of sugarholics", so I have to assume it's as Hassleberry said. However, since sugar consumption does absolutely nothing to my systems, the numbers on the packaging mean nothing to me. I doubt that's what you wanted, but it's all I can offer on that topic. The mystery as to why it's both a viable Energen substitute for me and unhealthiness personified for ponies is still just that: a mystery.
Fairy Leviathan Private Citizen
P.S. I agree to your offer of a collaboration. In harmony with the above, if you keep me informed, I will do the same for you.
I give the letter another once-over. This is probably as good as I'm going to be able to get it, I decide as I date the letter. Just like I knew what I was doing.
Getting it ready to mail isn't too difficult, as I'm able to use the other envelopes that haven't been opened yet as a template for what to do. Once it's fully prepared, though, I set it aside. I took a peek outside in-between paragraphs, and it's still raining. The letter isn't so important that it can't wait for the weather to cooperate. Keeping it intact and entirely undamaged would probably give those at the Castle a better impression of me if they ever saw it.
Compared to the Princess's letter everything else seems minor, but I suppose I should at least look things over just to be safe. Alright, Message #1...
"'Get out of here, freak! Nopony wants you here!'" I read aloud, rolling my eyes. "Huh. Tell us how you really feel." I rip the letter and its envelope to shreds over the wastebasket. "Message #2, with no name provided... and yet they're threatening me with a restraining order? Yes, really useful info there." Rip, tear, done. "Message #3... it's a letter from 'a secret admirer'. Charming, but they're not my type or my species." Impalement via Frost Javelin; by coincidence, it's straight through a heart doodle that was in the center. "Message #4... it's from someone who isn't impressed with my life story as printed. The truth has that effect on ponies, I see." Crinkle, crinkle, stuff. "Message #5..."
Now this one seems a bit more worthwhile. It's from Turkey Bowl, inviting me to attend his next competition as a spectator and offering to pay any fees. I know as much about bowling as I do about barbeques, but it seems like it would make a fun little distraction. I take note of the printed date and confirm it as the day Drama said that she'd return, setting the letter aside.
And as for Letter #6, it's...
...
Huh. And here I was just trying to get her to keep her hooves off the Pyre. She took my presence a little harder than I thought. And what's this piece of paper that just fell out...?
...! Alright, this merits a closer look.
Machine, a few words with you. You have no reason to listen, but I beg of you: please hear me out. I have a confession to make.
The night of the hit against the Pyre, I had told those ruffians that Salamandra was the reason why my theater wasn't bringing in as much money. I was lying through my teeth: the fault lies with me, and me alone. Years ago, my dear Moissanite died through circumstances that none of us saw coming, and his lack of support has worn away at my nerves since. I suspect that others saw past my friendly facade and concluded that my business sense had taken a hit from my grief, and they wouldn't be wrong. My critical thinking ability has suffered, and I count it a blessing most days if I am able to think straight without wailing in grief. I have been seeing and hearing threats where there are none, internally viewing even those I trusted as threats: paranoia has sunk its fangs into me despite my best efforts at shaking its grip. Even the Lonely Heart nightclub, the one place where I thought I might be safe outside of home, has felt increasingly threatening in the days since the Midnight Castles were toppled.
In my distress and jealousy, I saw Salamandra as a threat to my well-being and sought to demoralize her. If you hadn't been present, I would have ruined an innocent pony's life. I do not deserve forgiveness for this, so don't you dare start thinking that just because I'm complaining about my life. That is not my goal.
As long as I am getting everything off my chest, I suppose I should tell you. Whatever caused my husband's death struck out of nowhere. Up until then there were few things I feared, but the suddenness of it left me wondering just how many threats to my own life there were.
To this day nopony that I have asked have been able to determine why and how it happened. He was friendly by nature, and had no real enemies; he had no harmful vices, so he was of sound mind and lacked any lingering health issues. The autopsy revealed no heart or blood problems, nothing wrong with his brain, no sign of physical harm, and no traces of either malevolent magic or poison. The only clue is that his Cutie Mark was completely erased as if it had never existed.
My point is that I am not a strong pony. I am afraid of the unknown, Miss Leviathan. I am afraid that whatever killed my husband will claim me as well. As the cherry on top, your emergence has not been good for my health. You talked about yourself at length in the newspaper, but your words served to frighten, not reassure. And the revelation that there's another world out there, chock full of ideas and concepts that I don't understand, has driven me to act out of self-preservation. I refuse to meet the same fate as my beloved Moissanite.
So, I am leaving Manehattan. As of now all of the real estate that I own, up to and including the Golden Bell Performing Arts Center and Museum, are up for sale. Whether or not anypony buys them and closes on the properties in a reasonable time frame, I intend to be gone from here as soon as possible. In laypony's terms, I am quitting the theater and retiring from management. It's just not the same in this city anymore, not without my husband and not with my life in potential danger. Perhaps Las Pegasus will be a pleasant change for me; it's certainly far enough away, and maybe there I can find a new career to get involved in that's not so stressful. Anything would be wonderful, if only you weren't a part of it.
For the trouble I caused you and Salamandra by sending those thieves to the Pyre, please find enclosed a check for 4,000 bits. Use it to start your own account at a local bank, if you desire. It's yours if you, your kind, and your creators never interfere with my life again. I don't think my heart can take another scare.
Good-bye, Miss Leviathan.
Alexandrite
That's... not good. By that I was referring to what happened to her husband, not the money.
That little mystery is disturbing, assuming her paranoia didn't lead her to lie to me as well. I don't have any real reason to believe her, at least not entirely. But I can at least determine that she's not using her mindset as a means of escaping judgment for her misdeeds, which I can respect to some degree. Someone saying "please forgive me for doing this because I have an excuse" doesn't sit right with me unless it bothers them more.
If everything she says is true, then...
I shake my head, putting the letter down. No. What goes on in this city is none of my business. This is not my place. A one-off event like this is better off left in more practiced hands. I shouldn't get involved. I am a fighter, a strategist, a nature lover, and at times a hacker. I am not a detective.
If anything, it sounds like the sort of thing I should ask the higher-ups in the Police about. Maybe even the Princess, see if she knows anything about what could have happened---
I said stay out of it, girl. I palm my forehead, sighing. It's a struggle for me not to feel sorry for them. I don't want to get in the habit of playing hero here. Once was enough.
I pick up the check and examine it intently. As stated in the letter it's signed by Alexandrite and good for 4,000 bits, with the logo of her bank of choice in one corner and a row of numbers along the bottom. There's also a blank box labeled "Endorse This Check Here" on the back. One more thing I'm not familiar with. I should probably make a list of what I do know by now. It would be easier than listing what I don't.
I put both the check and the business mail aside until I can consult somepony. If there's one thing I do know, it's not to go into things half-prepared.
Now, how should I spend the rest of the day? I stretch my arms out in front of me as I consider my options with half my mind, double-checking my repairs with the other. I could return to hibernation like I told Celestia I was contemplating, certainly... but there's also getting back into the swing of things with my combat exercises, which Drama's excitement had interrupted. In addition, my momentary triggering of a heartsong has cued me in that magic usage might not be out of my reach, meaning that I have some research to do...
The possibility of an upcoming fight is making me grin, shoving the magic research and desire for rest aside. "Preparation it is," I say to no one as I walk quickly back to the auditorium, my weapon piecing itself together in my hand as I hurry. This should clear my head satisfactorily.
...
Or so the folder in my memory labeled "Might Need This Someday - I Hope That I Don't" would like to tell you.
Two adolescent pegasi, barely old enough to legally be considered mares, sat across from each other at a chess table. Both had deep brown eyes, coats and manes, though one of them had cream-colored specks throughout her coat and a darker manestyle, making it easy to tell them apart.
The lighter of the two favored frilly and expensive dresses and jewelry, not being afraid to throw her money around. The darker-maned pony was going through a 'tomboy' phase, shunning anything that made her look "pretty" and going for full navy blue suits and ties instead. Nopony who knew them believed that this phase would last long, thinking that she would be adopting the same dresses that her sister favored soon enough.
They were the Mocha twins, Caramel and Hazelnut, and they were the heirs to one of the oldest--if not the oldest--businesses in Equestria.
Both of them kept their eyes on the game they were playing, keeping up a running conversation all the while. "She should have received the offer today," Caramel uttered, moving one of her pawns forward a space. "How do you think she is going to respond?"
"I think she's going to write back and tell us that we're a bunch of nutters." Hazelnut did the same, if only to set her queen loose on the board later. "I don't know what the board of directors was thinking. She's a robot. She can't eat anything except those candies. She wouldn't have a reason to make a big show out of visiting one of the restaurants."
"She would not have to actually drink any of the coffees, Hazel. Nothing is stopping her from just giving what she buys to some random joes off the street. Word would still get out that the alien robot liked the restaurants enough to buy from them. I can picture the billboards now: 'I am Fairy Leviathan, and this is my favorite eatery in Manehattan.' She gets a bit of money, and the chain gets plenty of business. Everypony wins."
"As if. Did those bozos ever stop to think about the possibility that the robot's not going to want to get involved? She spelled it out plain as day that she doesn't want to linger. You'd think that they'd have figured out that not everypony are greedy slobs like they are. If the whole world worked the way they think it does, civilization would collapse because the entire population would be too busy fighting over bits to feed themselves."
"Exercising your mean streak today, Hazel?"
"I'm just fed up with the way they run this entire business, Carrie. I can't wait for the day when we can legally take charge of the company. I'd boot all of those bozos out onto the streets and replace them all with baristas. Sure, they'd need serious training for the job, but at least then we'd have actual professionals running the show. ...And we'd have some tasty coffee for meetings, too."
Caramel sighed as she moved a knight from its starting point. "I do not know what Grandpa was thinking when he hired them. I am starting to think that he does not care if the company is run properly as long as he is able to do... whatever it is he wants to do."
"Speaking of Grandpa, how is he?"
"I can sum it up in three words: 'Make your peace.'"
Hazelnut expelled a sigh of her own. "It's finally happening, isn't it?"
A few tears formed at the corners of Caramel's eyes. "I am afraid so, Hazel. You have to understand that he is an old pony, with everything that entails. He cannot make decisions like he used to, or think clearly. A year ago he was not able to spar with us anymore, if you remember."
Hazelnut moved her hooves away from the chess board. "I'm surprised it took him so long to give that up. He always seemed to be so strong." She looked up over her sister's head, her eyes distant. "I still remember the first time I saw him buck a hole through a steel beam, of all things. It wasn't even the physical strength of an earth pony that let him do that. He claimed that his muscles and his magic were in perfect alignment thanks to the family's own school of combat. I knew right then and there that I wanted to be like him."
"He seemed eager to have students, like he'd been expecting us to ask. He said that he had taught it to our parents, but... yeah.”
“Do you think we're ready, Carrie?”
Caramel placed one of her rooks into position near a pawn, daring Hazelnut to capture it with her queen but not caring when the bait wasn't taken. “I certainly hope so. I mean, we have been training in it for almost ten years now on top of everything else. Haven't managed steel yet. Best I can do is iron.”
A few seconds went by without words. “...Why do we always end up off topic like this? We were talking about the idea of a robot buying coffee.”
Caramel whickered, amused. “Give us a few more years to stop being teenagers, then ask me again. I'm having fun here.”
“Seriously,” Hazelnut complained. “Suppose somepony in the far future decides to write our biographies. What are they going to say? 'These ponies didn't stay on topic, so we intentionally left this chapter blank!'”
“That's assuming somepony would even want to write about us,” Caramel countered. “Or read about us, for that matter. The company's been around for more than nine hundred years and has survived all manner of events and disasters. The chances of us doing anything of note compared to our predecessors aren't very good. To manage that...”
“...we'd have to do a lot better than convince a robot to buy coffee.”
“Hazel, I'm telling you. The robot doesn't actually have to drink any of it...”
…
Two sibling mares on the verge of adulthood. They talked about a wide variety of things, as children are prone to do. They did it for fun, for distraction, and for consolation in the face of what they knew would soon come. And they did it because they knew that they wouldn't be able to keep this up forever.
They knew that sooner or later, they would need to grow up.
In a darkened room three floors above their suite and on the opposite side of the building, an elderly pony fought with everything he had to stay alive in the face of the inevitable.
Slow, measured breaths. No wasted movement. Everything he did was in defiance of the prognosis he was given the evening before.
He wasn't going to go down without a fight. Far as he was concerned, it was not going to happen. He just had too many cards to play. All the same, it continued creeping closer.
Gingerly, he raised a hoof up to a bell kept on his bedside table, tapping it. A moment later, a torrent of light and a unicorn-shaped silhouette signaled the arrival of the one being he trusted the most in this world. "What is it, sir? Do you require any painkillers?"
He started to say no, but flinched and gritted his teeth at a sudden spasm. "...Yes, please. And some water. In addition, I would like for you to send word to my agents elsewhere in Equestria. Notify them only that 'it's almost time'. That should be enough to make them run to Manehattan..." He coughed a few times. "Blasted dry throat... and that young good-looking unicorn. What was her name? Stratos...?" He shook his head minutely, cutting off his servant. "No no, doesn't matter. Just make sure she lingers in the city for a little while longer. Use any means you see fit."
"Of course, sir. Would this be about Manehattan's foreign resident?"
"Heh... ech... what gave it away?"
"The newspaper on the floor, sir."
"Forgot that was there. The so-called 'Siren General' is only half the reason. Can't you feel it?" The old-timer found the energy to smile. "That sensation like an earthquake in your ribs?"
"Not at all, sir."
"I can. It's getting bigger, just a little more with each passing day..." A violent coughing fit interrupted him for several moments. His servant remained unmoving at the door, knowing from past experience that his boss wanted to fight this on his own. "...Ucccch... one day soon, one day. Leave me, Ignition. Carry out your duties... wait," he backpedaled, the pony stopping before he could go. "This can't be emphasized enough. Make sure that my family does not find out about any of this. Those nosy runts are too good-hearted to be trusted with their silence. One whiff of this, and they'll..." A pause to clear his throat. "...they'll go straight to the Royal Police. Keep them from finding out, whatever you do."
"As you wish. Anything else, sir?"
"No. Dismissed."
The silhouette turned and left, and the pillar of light disappeared as the bedroom door shut. The old stallion turned all of his attention to his struggle to outlast the final enemy that all ponies must face someday.
Slow, measured breaths. No wasted movement... and a wicked smile, indiscernible in the darkness.
The time to vacate the throne may come sooner than you think, Celestia, and not in the way you think... "Eh-heh-heh-heh...heh...hehccchhh!" Another wracking cough. Rrrgh, blasted poor health, won't even let me do a proper evil laugh anymore... Fine. If I can't laugh at you out loud, then I'll just laugh in my thoughts. Eh-heh-heh-heh...
...heh...
Wait, what was I just laughing about? I could've sworn it was something important... ah, well. It'll come to me eventually. It always does.
Thus Cocoa Mocha's struggle continued for another day.
...
And far below any of them, concealed within three heavily secured safes hidden in the tower's sub-basement, the future lay in wait.
Auto-Repair Systems: 100%. Currently operating at maximum efficiency.
Armor Integrity: 92%.
Motor Control: 92%.
Dash Thrusters: 100%. Systems nominal.
Coolant Levels: 100%. System nominal.
Combat Capabilities: 85% overall.
Ice Manipulation: 95%.
Frost Javelin: 98%. Systems nominal.
Armed Phenomenon: 71%.
Recommended Course of Action: Continue running auto-repair. Usage of capsule not required.
...
I've just spent the last few hours taking a nap and running a full diagnostics scan, and my health is looking better all the time. There isn't much I can say about a lot of these.
The two biggest concerns are still my frame and my solar absorber. Regarding the former, the gash in my side is more than halfway fixed... good, but it could still be better. That also leaves all the other damage, so I'll still need to wear my coat in public for a while.
On the latter, while it isn't strictly required for the absorber to be functional, it's still convenient to have working. It's present as a supplement for my Energen tanks. Provided that I'm either out in the sun or close enough to the water's surface for its rays to reach me, it slows down my fuel consumption by as much as thirty percent. And on the off-chance that I run out of Energen, I can shut down everything not required for my day-to-day survival and subsist entirely on sunlight. Very nice to have when I'm off-duty. Plus, any combat I partake in between now and when I return home will most likely be on land, so any edge I possess will be good ones.
I remember hearing some speculation once that long ago, the earliest sapient robots were powered by and large by solar energy. If that's true, then why the switch to a mineral-based power source? Was it because the robots could then be counted on for work anytime day or night?
Of course, there are two major caveats to this setup. First, if I'm someplace where the sunlight won't reach me--like the room I was collapsed in post-Omega--then the absorber's completely useless once it runs dry. As I told my associates earlier, I'd be nothing more than trash if I was without both supplies of power. For another, keeping my combat functions active once I'm reduced to my absorber uses up the energy much more quickly. I would need to take long, frequent naps in sunlight if I wanted to continue functioning.
Much like a cat. Or Gray. Truth be told, I'm not convinced that what few cats I've seen here aren't solar powered themselves. While I was on my way to the Big and Taur shop the other day, I passed by a stray that was resting on its back squarely in a particularly large patch of sunlight... but I'm off topic again.
My coolant levels have fully replenished themselves. Because Heartbreakers, for those who forgot. I'm sure it makes sense in some haphazard way that I'm not getting, but I've got other things to worry about at the moment. I'll get back to my viewers on that.
Some who are unfamiliar with me may wonder what my diagnostics mean by "Armed Phenomenon". To dumb it down some, it's a secondary form I can access in certain situations. If I'm up against someone that I would have difficulty defeating normally--Mr. Two Minus Two himself, for example--then my body shifts and morphs into a jet-equipped manta ray submarine. It boosts almost all of my combat capabilities, with the biggest standout being my speed, which quadruples. The only real problem with it is that it requires a large body of water for mobility's sake, such as that found at the Temple of Ice, but that's just a minor issue at best.
The Armed Phenomenon is usable even at low efficiency, but for it to unleash its full potential, it requires four things: a steady power supply, plenty of Energen, a stable frame, and functional ice manipulation. It's why my prior scans listed its efficiency at 0%: their poor conditions negated any effectiveness the form might have had, despite it being in otherwise decent condition.
Everything else my diagnostics are telling me won't be problematic. 92% isn't anywhere near low enough for my armor to start falling apart, or for my motor controls to malfunction entirely. My ice manipulation and combat capabilities will max out when everything else does, and my Javelin's cursory damage can be saved for last. So all in all, I'd say I'm in 'Good' condition. 'Excellent' is when I'm at 99-100% on all fronts.
...
Back in Drama's office, I'm considering my options.
I hadn't stated as much when I wrote my reply to Celestia, but I left enough of an implication that I was willing to test my abilities against whoever it was she was going to assign. So I have two matches coming up: a serious one against an opponent to be determined, and a not-quite-so-serious one against Bossa Nova.
And as you might respect, contemplating these future events takes me back to the past. Or more specifically, my embarrassing showing against Omega.
Zero was able to best Omega multiple times, with his final victory coming when the latter was being empowered by the Dark Elf. I fight baseline Omega once alongside Fefnir, and... well, you know that story already. Dr. Weil's going to have someone just as strong or close to it ready by the time I get back. If I tried fighting whoever it is as I am now, there wouldn't be enough of me left to store in Drama's cookie jar. I'd probably be justified if I tried labeling him as a force of nature by now.
As long as I'm making comparisons, everything I knew of X told me that he was a genuine force. According to Neo Arcadia's archives, he never stopped improving throughout his entire career. Whether it was through personal advancements, copying weapons from his opponents, or gifts left behind in unlikely places by his long-dead creator, he was able to constantly adapt to whatever environment he found himself in. The only thing keeping him from steamrolling everyone and everything was his own attitude. If he had a choice in the matter, he would have stomped "Elpizo" long before he had the chance to grab the Dark Elf, and the events that led to my being here wouldn't have happened.
Hmm... now if I was told that I could go back in time and meet one specific person, his creator would have been it. How in the world did he have the foresight to hide one of his upgrades in an enemy tank before it was even built? Very clever.
There was one other person spoken of in hushed tones that we Guardians were taught to remember. I was always impressed by this one's accomplishments. He was built specifically to drive that generation's hover vehicles, and he didn't disappoint. He passed every test he took, drove up the morale of everyone around him just by existing, and could be counted on for anything. If you needed someone to watch your back during a high-speed chase, he was your best bet for getting out alive and in one piece. Surrounded by Mavericks and in need of a rescue? He'd blast away every enemy with his bike's cannon without so much as singeing your hair. Wanted a chaperone for someone's date? Sure, he had free time. He followed orders, respected everyone, was respected in turn, and never lost hope even in sticky situations. He was an absolute ace.
So it was that when he gave his life helping X take down a Maverick stronghold, everyone mourned his passing. If the site of his burial hadn't been lost to the ages, I imagine that there would still be people visiting his gravesite to this day. He has simply earned that much respect.
Though one has to wonder about his name. Most non-civilian Reploids have designations with some sort of meaning behind them. I was named after a sea monster or some other aquatic creature, for example... history's iffy on that. Maha Ganeshariff's name and appearance are references to an ancient and mythological elephant. The list goes on.
The ace that we all hold in high regard? His designation was "Green Biker Dude". What kind of self-respecting name is that? It sounds like the sort of name that I would give...
...him...
...
I've been doing a really good job of zinging myself recently, haven't I?
Personal degradation aside, here's the point I'm trying to make. I don't have X's adaptability, or Zero's unrelenting skill, or G.B.D.'s everything. I might be one of X's "children", but that doesn't mean that I inherited his talent for getting stronger over time. I can only do so much on my own.
There's an expression you're probably familiar with: "Go out there and give 110%!" It's used to encourage and challenge others to work hard, to do their very best at certain tasks. What it doesn't mean is that they can break their limits. No matter who you are, eventually you will reach the point where your body refuses to get stronger or perform any better than it already can. When you push yourself to try and surpass yourself, you're not really overcoming your limits; all you're doing is trying to find out what exactly your limits are. Trying to break your limits in the truest sense only leads to pain, misery... possibly death, depending on how moronic you are. This isn't fiction where the protagonist can casually overcome their deficiencies via pure willpower and grit.
The same is true for me. My limits were set in place the day my conversion into a warrior was complete. Metal, hydraulics, and ice can only carry me so far. I might be superior to any of our creators in a physical sense, but I have clear limitations that I cannot overcome. I can be creative with what I do have all I want, but it may not be enough, whether I'm fighting Zero or Weil's forces.
Which leaves me with only one option: it's time for some upgrades.
But how? I don't have access to however it was X's creator was able to provide him with new equipment. And I might be familiar enough with my designs and weapon that I can perform maintenance on myself if circumstances are dire, but I'm no true mechanic or technician. Linking up with fresh equipment and parts would require me to shut down and rely entirely on another's hooves. In addition, just to reiterate: at least three hundred years behind the times. Home computers haven't been invented here yet, never mind the sort of technology that would ensure everything went smoothly.
If I had to, I suppose I could scrounge around and locate the materials I would need to craft all of the components of a computer. I have enough working knowledge of hardware and software both that I could figure something out. But even if I were able to create a new operating system entirely from scratch, or whip up new hardware on my skill alone, it's not going to solve my real problems: getting myself stronger, and getting myself home.
I'd really rather not have to rely on shortcuts, but it's looking like I'm going to have to rely on magic for this one.
Before I resort to anything like that, however, let's call up my blueprints and combat specs. I've been over these on several occasions before, but now it's time for a more in-depth look at what needs improving. Who knows? I might have missed something along the way. Comparing specs to current self now. Full scan triggered...
HELMET
All functions are linked to unit's processor through the head. Only unit designated "Leviathan-01NA" can make use of these functions. Functions can not be utilized if helmet is not worn.
Jet Propulsion: Powerful, quick and easy maneuverability through water. Maximum safe speed is 130 knots.
Defense: Offers limited cranial protection.
Jellyfish: Additional defensive measure; will ward off anything that touches it when activated. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
Subsurface Radar: Scans surroundings in a fifty-kilometer radius around the user in order to track points of interest and enemy targets. Most effective underwater, but can be used above ground with vastly decreased range. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
OPTICS
Normal: Allows for the equivalent of 20/20 vision in humans, with an approximate 150° range. Can discern color. Has most of the same basic weaknesses as human eyesight, with the exception of contact sensitivity.
Deep Sea: Enables easier navigation of the ocean floor. Extremely sensitive to light. Warning: usage beyond what is intended risks optical damage.
Hunter: Allows user to see invisible objects. Shuts off vision in one eye as a tradeoff, limiting range. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
Lock-On: Become immune to changes in perception. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
BODY
Armor: Standard-issue Guardian Armor, with minor modifications to shape. Provides limited protection, but should not be counted on for blocking all types of attacks.
Ice Generators: Allows for the manipulation and control of ice in its most malleable form to be shaped as the user wills. Most effective usage is through the Frost Javelin, but similar results can be attained without it at the cost of time and effort.
Dry Ice Mode: Allows for the generation and use of dry ice to be shaped as the user wills. Can not be used through the Frost Javelin, only through direct contact via the hands or, if necessary, the feet. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
Overdrive: Sharply boosts all capabilities for up to thirty seconds. Emits an aura around the user that freezes everything in a meter radius. Once energy is expended, this function is locked for twenty minutes to allow the user to cool down sufficiently. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
Inventory Space: Used for carrying items and weapons recognized by internal hardware. Slot #1: In use by Frost Javelin. Slot #2: In use by Armed Phenomenon equipment. Slot #3: empty. Slot #4: empty.
BOOTS
All functions are linked to unit's processor through the feet and ankles. Only unit designated "Leviathan-01NA" can make use of these functions. Functions can not be utilized if boots are not worn.
Dash Thrusters: Triggers a momentary speed boost of up to 74 MPH (119 km/h) for short distances on land, and an extra 10 knot boost underwater. Can be used in quick succession with no drawbacks, but is affected by decreased motor control.
Ice Skates: Allows complete freedom of movement on surface ice and other slippery surfaces. Boots do not morph into actual skates, but they can still be treated as such.
Double Jump: If in mid-air, gain extra height equal to 80% the height of a normal jump. Can also be used to jump across the surface of water without submerging. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
Frozen Aerial: While in mid-air, create icy platforms beneath the unit's feet to traverse gaps. No more than three platforms can be active at a time, and each will dissolve after ten seconds. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.
...
It wouldn't be too difficult to imagine the entire theater jumping off its foundation as it was rattled by Leviathan's shocked yell.
...
I'm sure they heard me screeching all the way in Canterlot, but I don't care. Seriously, WHAT IN X'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE?! Was I always this powerful? Did I have this all along and just didn't know?! 'Overdrive'? 'Frozen Aerial'? What even is this?!
...
Wait, wait, wait. Hold up, hold up. Calm down, girl. Let's think about this. "Password Locked. Currently inaccessible," I say to myself as I read over the scan one more time.
To the best of my knowledge, I have never possessed any of the abilities with that label. As I said prior to starting my scan, I've been through these enough times to be overly familiar with what I possess. Having something be available to me, only to be told it was password protected? Something is wrong here, because I know for a certainty that I didn't own any of that. There shouldn't have been anything there that would need that label applied to it.
And from the looks of things, my system agrees. I'm getting red flags popping up across the board and notifications in my HUD that I need to speak with a technician or programmer post-haste. At some point in my existence I've been tampered with, and my brain has just now realized it.
As far as I know, I didn't have any real enemies of my own in Neo Arcadia. Or to specify, none that hated me personally enough to want to make me less capable. Only our most trusted staff is allowed entry to our domains, and those that we hire are required to go through rigorous background checks to ensure that we're not getting anyone who would compromise our ability to keep the peace. So who does that leave?
The average citizen is right out. If anyone tried, there would have been alarms going off all over the place.
My support staff is out of the question, too. They might have been a rag-tag group of random, nameless Reploids and weaker humans who were good with technology, but they legitimately believed that what they were doing was for Neo Arcadia's greater good and wholeheartedly supported the regime. And I'm fairly certain that a few of them were fans of mine; I've walked past their workstations a few times and noticed that they had vid-screen images of me where they normally would've put pictures of their loved ones or friends.
I can't blame Copy X or Dr. Weil, either. For all of his faults, the former knew that we were loyal to him and treated us with respect as long as we carried out his orders. The latter wouldn't have been around due to his exile, and if he'd come anywhere close, the entire city would have been up in arms; us Four knew of his crimes all too well. I suppose he could've done his work while Fefnir and I were incapacitated, but there's too many things wrong with that for it to make sense. Thirdly, he seems like the type who would program all Reploids to be his attack dogs if given the chance, and I'm clearly under no obligation to follow his directives.
So who does that leave? Who would have the authority and enough security access to tamper with either my blueprints, myself or both directly, and possibly even the other Guardians too?
...
I feel like I've just been hit with a thrown sledgehammer. "The Judges," I breathe, leaning on a wall to keep myself upright.
Us Guardians were well-acquainted with the Eight Gentle Judges. They were a set of Reploids that had worked with the real X where judicial matters were concerned since before the Four of us were created, second only to him in power. After Copy X came into power, they helped "determine" whether or not certain Reploids were Mavericks and passed judgment on them. And in fact, within hours after Copy X's destruction was reported, they unanimously nominated Harpuia to become the city's new ruler.
We'd had mutual trust and respect for each other, and I'd like to think that they wouldn't try anything to negate that trust... or at least I would've said that months ago. I don't know all the details, but I was able to glean enough from my interactions with X, Phantom, and Harpuia that the Judges were in Weil's non-existent back pocket the entire time. Whoever it was that created the Judges were never discovered, so if Weil had been the one to do so, that would explain a great deal. The fact that Omega was sent to space instead of executed, among other things...
The Judges themselves don't strike me as being able to tamper with me. Neither my interactions with them nor their official records told me that they specialized in computer programming, hacking, or Reploid design. However, there are ways around that: it wouldn't be difficult for them to covertly seek out someone in Neo Arcadia who was skilled in that sort of thing and either force or bribe them to do the deed, providing them with any permissions they would require. And if the programmer was a Reploid, there was nothing stopping them from killing him or her afterwards to keep any rumors from reaching Copy X.
The most difficult part of it would come from a delicate balancing act: dumbing down our abilities and power enough that we would be unable to oppose Weil if he returned, but not so much that we couldn't mow down anyone who looked at us funny and keep the city adequately safe. Most likely this was done when we were first turned into combat Reploids, as I can't imagine myself needing most of this stuff in my original occupation. Fooling those responsible for maintaining us would've been difficult, but not impossible. My team was good, but not perfect; if they found any of this extra equipment during routine maintenance, they probably assumed that it was responsible for what we were already using and didn't give it another thought. Serial numbers and the like can be disguised from all manner of scans if one knows how, and if the blueprints had been altered appropriately...
It probably would have raised too many questions, caused too many risks if they'd tried to discard, throw out, or otherwise dispose of the parts. High-quality parts just sitting around gathering dust, or being sent to the incinerator? Word gets around, and people would think. Any person with more than half a brain--little Ciel, just to name one example--would be likely to come across the parts and wonder why they weren't being used. Instead, they were stored in the least obvious hiding place: inside ourselves, hidden behind a password and memory blocks potent enough to prevent even that from being detected. Ingenious, dreadfully so.
Speaking of the blocks, I am wondering what it was that broke them and allowed me to learn that the hardware was available. That can wait for another time, though. I'm too incensed to dwell on it too deeply.
I could name instances where these locked abilities would've been useful. Dry Ice Mode could have done some serious damage to Omega, or at least to that outer shell he wore. The Subsurface Radar could've been used to keep better track of Zero during our fights, warning me whenever he was about to strike, and...
...and it's really sinking in now what they did to me.
All this time, I thought I'd known what I could do. What about the others? What sort of abilities could Harpuia, Fefnir, or Phantom have been able to utilize had they only known? What was locked behind doors that they had no way of learning of?
Errrugghh...
I sink down to the floor, removing my helmet and setting it aside. My face drops into my hands. Doctor. Weil. He himself didn't plan this, but the Judges were loyal to him and would do anything to support his ambitions even while they pretended to be X's left hand. What they've done to us, to me, because of his directives... I don't have the words for it. X in Cyberspace, I think I'm going to throw up...!
That's the illness, and getting home and giving Dr. Weil all of the justice he deserves is the remedy. If Zero can't do it, I don't think anyone's going to complain if I do it myself.
...
I take some time to steady myself and haul back the urge to get sick across the floor (because seriously, what half-processed Energen looks like is something that no biological being needs to know about). This is another one of those times when I'm envious of humans: at least they have tears they can shed if they feel like having a good cry.
With some effort, I bring my mind back to here and now: I've got a fight ahead of me sometime, and I need to be ready. Steady as she goes, Leviathan. Focus. You can do this. ...Therrreee we go, girl. Treat yourself to a cookie. ...Or not, since you can't eat them. Rephrasing that, treat somepony else to a cookie.
Now then, given the choice between magic and technology, I'll take tech any day. These things I've got locked away seem like my top choices; I have them, might as well use them. Let's see if I can't crack these passwords. Flexing my processor, I direct an inquiry regarding the requirements for breaking the protection.
Password must consist of exactly 2,000,000,000 characters utilizing the CCSID 437 character set. The password is different for each ability.
"Kyahahaha..." Wow, okay. They really didn't want us getting our hands on all of these in a timely fashion. Two billion characters, and I have around 240 choices for each one. Well, I suppose I should devote a subroutine to cracking the codes, because there's no way I'm going to be doing that consciously.
...And having that subroutine clear away the "password denied" message before it reaches my HUD would help, too. I don't want my vision to be flooded with those.
Alright, the subroutine's complete. I'm going to sic it on the shield around my boots' Double Jump and see what happens. In the meantime, I'm going back to sleep and shutting off all non-essential functions. I've got nothing to do, so I see no point in staying awake for any of this. It's best if I just let it work.
...
Well, after I take care of one more letter. I've got curiosity to sate, so where did I put that Heartbreakers wrapper? Let's get this mystery cleared up once and for all.
Like she'd said she would, Drama Heart returned three days after she had left. She was giddy beyond words, all but prancing as she left the train station and made the trip back to her theater on hoof. She was so enthused from the time she had spent back in Baltimare, catching up on time spent with her youngest sister and making sure she had everything she needed, that the news that she would soon be an aunt continued to fill her with energy.
"---walking on sunshine, whoa-hoaaaa, and does it feel good!..."
Even with the sun beginning its evening descent, Drama felt like she had enough fuel to clean the entire theater from top to bottom in the span of an hour. While her emotions didn't manifest themselves as a heartsong this time, a half-remembered tune she'd heard in Baltimare was enough to get others who saw her smiling and nodding along.
And why shouldn't they? I haven't been this happy since the day I got my Cutie Mark! Oh, there's going to be so many fun times ahead! I can just see it now, their "Crazy Aunt Salamandra" showing up out of the blue to brighten up their day! I can't wait, I can't wait!
...
Drama entered the theater through the back door and made her way to the lobby, looking about her as she went. She set aside her familial joy to properly judge the situation. Good, she remembered to keep a few of the lights on. Everything seems to be in order. Nothing out of place. Maybe a mild dusting is all that's needed. If she's this good at house-sitting, I won't need to charge her rent.
She was a little surprised when she got to the lobby, though. Leviathan was seated on the floor near the restrooms, her coat and purse sitting off in the corner forgotten. There was enough illumination for Drama to see that all of Fairy's external damage was just about gone, with a minor dent or two being all that was left. Her white uniform was all but pristine, having mended itself along with her frame. The part of Drama that was enthralled by the Reploid's damaged state was squashed by her more rational side telling her that it was for the best.
Fairy should've been much more pleased with how she was doing, but instead she was staring up at the ceiling, her eyes tired and lifeless. Her pupils flitted towards Drama when she walked into view; rather than getting up, she leaned forward to rest her hands and head on her knees. "Welcome home," she intoned, voice just as quiet as Gray Ghost's stoic child.
"Um... it's good to be home," Drama greeted her, immediately sidetracked by Fairy's mood. "Are you doing okay? You're not mad because I ditched you to visit my family, are you?"
"No," was Leviathan's response, and the unicorn could tell she meant it. "I'm just having one of those... bleh kind of days."
"Understandable." Drama patted her shoulder, giving her what she felt was a consoling smile. She turned and headed for the stairway. "Give me a few minutes to put my things away and get my dinner, then we can talk about it."
"You might want to wait on that," Leviathan said, not getting up.
A bit of puzzlement. "Fairy, I've got to put these away before I do anything. I can't just leave them down here."
"I'm serious, Drama. I really don't suggest trying to go upstairs."
...Oh-ho~? That's just begging for me to find out. Drama approached the door to the stairway, opening it---
"Gray took them down because I'm grounded," Leviathan murmured, sullen.
Drama tried and failed to parse that, her anger sputtering like a malfunctioning heater. Finally, she spoke the only two words that came to mind. "That's... disturbing."
"Your friend's a monster when she feels her children are threatened," Levi answered, her tone unchanged.
The unicorn contemplated being angry at Gray instead, but got a handle on her temper. However she felt about the matter, it could wait. Hear it out. Remember to hear it out. No point in being furious if you don't hear it out first. "So... long day? Want to talk about it? ...In fact, I'll make it mandatory. Come with me to the auditorium and tell me everything. Come on, up and at 'em."
Leviathan hesitated for a while, her expression making it clear that she wasn't interested in moving. It was only when Drama held out her hooves like she was about to hug her that she sighed and got to her feet. "Alright. Just promise me that you won't want to be mad at me. Or at Gray."
"I can't really put that down in writing until after I hear the explanation," Drama countered, knowing full well her words didn't make sense. Her suitcase, already wrapped in a turquoise aura, magicked itself open long enough to jettison a black-and-orange ballcap. "And here. Got you a gag gift."
Leviathan caught the cap as it was thrown at her and spent a few seconds looking it over. "I'm not familiar with this style or this bird that's on it," she stated, her somber voice starting to perk up a little.
Drama chuckled. "Hence why it's a gag gift." She turned and walked to the auditorium, not having to turn to know that Fairy was following her. "Anyway, start from the beginning. I want to hear everything."
"Suit yourself. Just remember I tried to warn you..."
MID-MORNING, THAT VERY DAY...
My external damage was almost completely repaired when I woke up this morning, but not quite to the point where I felt like discarding my coat. And while the subroutine I'd put in place had made excellent progress towards unlocking my Double Jump, it was a low priority compared to everything else my systems were up to. No need to rush it unless it was an emergency.
"Just a moment."
If Leviathan was upset at being interrupted just two sentences in, she didn't show it. "What's the problem?"
"'Subroutine'. 'Double Jump'. Where'd these terms come from? If you used them before, I don't remember."
"Heh... got a little ahead of myself, didn't I?" Leviathan sat down on the edge of the stage, her host close by. "After you left, I discovered that some of my hardware had been tampered with back home. When I realized what was needed to get them working, I sicced a program on them to chisel away at their protection."
"What kind of protection are we talking here?"
"Passwords two billion characters long, with a provided list of 250 to choose from. Give or take a half-dozen."
Drama's face slowly contorted into something grotesque. She couldn't put a pin on the exact number of possible combinations there were, but she didn't need to; the words 'two billion' were enough to sour her expression. "How the actual---?"
Leviathan rolled her eyes and cut Drama off before she could say something profane. "This is why I typically don't discuss the inner workings of my CPU with those unfamiliar with computer science. There's enough possible combinations there that even if I was immortal, there wouldn't be enough of the universe left to fit in a hypothetical dustpan by the time I finished cracking just one of those passwords. This is why it pays to play it smart."
"Then would you mind dumbing it down to something an organic mind can comprehend?" Drama quipped, poking Levi's arm playfully.
"Sure. There were two things I discovered while poking around and putting the subroutine together. The first was that the password protection was going to let me make as many tries as I wanted. Any programmer in their right mind would set it up so that all access attempts would be logged in a security file, and they would place limits on how much something can be accessed before it just flat-out locks the user out of the system. There aren't any provisions for either." She shrugged. "At this point I can only speculate as to why it was designed that way. Maybe someone wanted to give me a fighting chance at regaining what's rightfully mine, which would make some sense. Or maybe they were just being lazy and underestimated me. Who knows? Those are just guesses. They're less important than facts to me as things stand. And the fact is that I can keep trying until something works. There's a time and place for everything, and now's not the time for dwelling on 'whys' and 'wherefores'."
"Plot relevancy. Gotcha."
An audible blink. "What?"
Drama waved a hoof impatiently. "Less important than facts right now, Fairy. What's the second thing you found?"
Leviathan raised a hand as if to ask again, but sighed and lowered it. "Have you ever heard of a game called 'Mastermind'? One pony has a limited number of turns to correctly guess a four-digit sequence based on feedback from another pony?"
Drama thought about this for a bit. "Sort of sounds like 'Bulls and Cows'," she finally said. "It's fairly popular with pony foals who like to exercise their minds without resorting to stuff like chess. I'm assuming this ties in?"
"Yes. Take away the 'limited number of turns' aspect, and that's more or less what I'm pulling. The completed subroutine starts by generating a completely random password and submitting it to the system. Barring a miracle it's obviously going to get rejected, but the subroutine asks for and gets a list of which characters are at least in their proper positions. The list is analyzed, the correct characters are locked in place, and all others are shifted to the next one in the set I'm using. The password is then re-submitted, lather, rinse, repeat."
A bit more thought on the storyteller's end, and her eyes widened at the end of it. "You probably could've worded it better, but if I'm understanding you correctly... it cuts down on your number of attempts to about 250 at most?"
"Give or take a half-dozen. And once the correct password is given, it should in theory give me permanent access to my locked hardware. I'll have to repeat the process for each piece of equipment, but in the long run I'll be much stronger than I was when I first got here."
Drama's giggling sounded more like it came from her Salamandra persona than her natural self. "Ee-heeheeheehee... the world is really not ready for someone of your mind, Fairy."
Leviathan brushed off the praise. "I'd apply that more to computers in general, not just mine. They're useful tools if they're properly programmed. So, do you still want to know how the stairs got that way, or not?"
Beat. "...Wow," Drama uttered, her mane settling back down from the momentary high she was on. "We really got off topic there."
"Nothing wrong with being curious about it, and it's my own fault for mentioning the terms to start with. So, where were we?..."
I hadn't interacted with Turkey Bowl at all since the day we met, so of course I accepted the invitation he'd sent for me to attend his next match. That takes me to where I am now: Mustang Lanes, the largest of Manehattan's three bowling alleys according to my taxi driver, and the home for the city's EBL bowling team.
Presenting the pass Turkey had enclosed with the invitation lets me into the building. I'm about thirty minutes early, and what seating is available hasn't filled up yet. I see a few suited-up out-of-towners who look like they're the visiting team, sipping idly from some drink or other and completely ignoring me, but no sign of Turkey himself. Probably preparing for the match, or what have you.
"Excuse me? Leviathan, right?"
Well, she gave it a long 'e' sound instead of a short one, but there are worse pronounciations. The unicorn who's getting my attention seems a bit on the statuesque side, though it's hard to determine what that term really means where this species is concerned. Light yellow-cream color, neatly brushed blue mane and a ring around the base of her tail... not too shabby appearance-wise. Pretty stylish, really. "That's me. How do you do?"
"Feeling great today!" She offers her hoof, to which I answer with a fistbump. "I'm Pinny Lane. Turkey Bowl asked me to keep my eyes open for you and answer any questions you might have while he's getting ready."
"Heh. I'm not too familiar with bowling, so I've got plenty." I follow along as she leads me to a table near the spectator seating. "Neo Arcadia did have an alley... kind of hard not to, what with twenty million-plus residents, but I left that sort of thing to the civilians."
"Twenty million all in one city," Pinny comments, shaking her head. "I know you talked about it and all in the paper, but it's still nuts to think you've got that many living in a single location." She gestures for me to sit down. "Population-wise we're the largest city in Equestria, but we still don't come anywhere close to that."
"In all fairness, that was due to extenuating circumstances," I assure her as I try to make myself as comfortable as I can. "Your nation's at peace without any real long-term crises, so there's cities all over the place. There's no need for the entire population to stick together in one spot."
"Still nutty." Pinny shakes her head as if to clear it. "But we're not here to talk about that. Let's talk bowling. What would you like to know?"
"Let's start with how the game's scored. I'm familiar with the basic premise... set up pins in a triangle formation, roll a ball down the lane at them, try to knock them all down... but I've never looked at the scoring system or how the points are tabulated."
"Sure." Pinny looks around for a bit, muttering. "Lessee, scrap paper, scrap paper... there we go." She levitates a piece of paper and a pencil over to the table, proceeding to draw a rudimentary chart consisting of ten columns and three rows. As an added touch, she scribbles her initials next to the chart. "That top row doesn't mean anything; I just like to add a buffer."
She clears her throat and starts into her lecture. "A bowling game is divided into ten frames. You're allowed up to two attempts per frame to knock down all the pins." She writes a few numbers down in the first column. "Suppose for my first frame, I knocked down five pins on my first throw and four on my second. Gives me nine points so far. Simple math.
"Now, on my second frame I throw a strike by knocking down all ten at once." She scrawls an 'X' in the second column. "Here's the part that trips up a lot of ponies when they first start playing. A strike is worth ten points, plus what you get on your next two throws. So we're going to leave this bottom row blank for now."
Pinny fills out columns three and four thusly: another strike, then a nine and a backslash. "Two strikes and a nine, plus my score for the first frame totals thirty-eight for the second. For my third frame, look ahead at the fourth. With what we said in mind, some would think that we'd get twenty-nine here, too. They'd be wrong. See the backslash? That indicates a spare, which means we needed both attempts in a frame to collect all ten pins. So we're just going to add the spare's value to the strike and give ourselves 20 points, bringing our score up to 58..."
"Excuse me, Fairy," Drama interrupted. "Why are you going over the rules of the game? I already know how to play." She added as a muttered aside: "I'm not any good at it, but still..."
"Just going over events for posterity's sake," Leviathan said, having anticipated the question. "If anyone sees my memories in the future and they're unfamiliar with the game, at least they'll know how to play it for themselves."
"I really don't think ponies are going to forget how to play the game that easily," Drama answered.
"Three hundred years ago I'll bet no one thought that people would be unable to open a basic door, either."
A wince. "That's fair. Keep going."
"...so that gives me 122 points after seven frames." Pinny gestures at the eighth. "Now, this zero could mean anything. Maybe my aim was off and I threw the ball into the gutter. Or I committed a foul of some kind by stepping into the lane, or deliberately used magic to steer the ball..."
"Excuse the interruption here," I cut in. "Could you elaborate on that last one, please?"
"Sure. Unicorns are allowed to use magic to hold the ball or make it spin upon release, if that's how they prefer to play." She gestures at one of the lanes. "But you see those black markers on the sides there? The ball has to be actively rolling down the lane before it passes those markers, and you cannot be holding the ball in any way past that point. If those criteria aren't met, then it's an automatic foul. No points for the attempt, and any pins knocked down are reset."
Makes sense. "I'd wondered how unicorn magic impacted the rules." I gesture at the tenth and final frame. "I imagine that the players get three attempts for this last one?"
"In a fashion," Pinny continues to explain. "If you get either a strike or a spare, then you get an extra throw; if not, that's where your game ends. This is also the only frame where it's possible to get more than one strike. So looking at what I have here, then my final total would be..."
"180 points."
"Bingo!" She jots the number down, then sets her items aside. "Now then---"
"HUGS!"
"---time for hugs---" Pinny does a quick double-take. "Wait a minute---WHA!" She stumbles as a blur collides with her side. Huh, that's some nice velocity there. "Careful there, careful---!"
"Hi, bowling lady! You're very pretty!" is the response she gets from a very happy foal. Yes, that's one of Gray's kids again. 'Zig-Zag', I think she called him?
Pinny blushes. "Yes, I get that a lot, but could you please not?" she protests, earning some chuckling from those in the background. "I have to help the nice robot---" Nice? "---learn about bowling, okay? Could you let go of me? Like now?"
I repay Pinny's assistance by prying Zeke loose and scooping him up into my hands. "I'm sure your mother taught you better than this, child. Speaking of, where is your mother?"
Zeke points away from us towards a food counter. Sure enough, Gray's manning it---ponying it?---and surveying the building. On seeing me, she smiles and waves before going about her business. And that's an adorable little hat she's wearing. "Odd job," her foal explains. "Food for bits."
Pinny smooths out the fur on her leg. "As long as you're not unattended," she says with a tinge of worry. "I really don't want to get in trouble my first year in the league..."
A rookie, huh? Explains her upbeat behavior. We'll see how long that lasts. "I didn't know your mom could cook," I comment to Zeke.
The little lovebug shakes his head repeatedly. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh. No cook. She's terrible. Just serving. She's very servy."
"You're not just saying that because you like eating stuff you really shouldn't, are you?" I inquire.
Zeke's response is the same as previous. If he does this enough, maybe I could get him to fan me? "Dad's the cook. Mom can't cook. Cornbread incident."
Does he ever say more than two to three words at once? "If you say so... how about the rest of your squad? Are they around?"
A rapid nod, as opposed to a rapid nope. "Ebony's playing pinball."
...
"What do you mean, 'TILT'?! You bug-blasted machine! Give me my bits back!" Ebony howled at the pinball table that she felt was cheating her out of her allowance.
...
"Energy is energized."
...
"Celestia forbid... that you ever... start drinking coffee," a mare, who was only now realizing why it was never a good idea to run a race against someone named 'Pure Energy', managed to wheeze before collapsing to the floor.
Energy beamed at her as he pranced in place. "That was fun, that was fun! We gotta do that again sometime!"
"Please no..."
...
"Fiver's playing cards."
...
In the same gaming room that Ebony was barking threats at an inanimate object in, three veteran card-players pondered the little filly present at their table. Not a single blink, tail or ear twitch gave away her mood, and the corners of her mouth never budged. Only top-notch gamers were that good at controlling their poker face, they knew. She'd proven herself a fair hoof at the game up until now, and if the rate at which she was improving was any indication, she'd be a terror at the tables when she grew up.
It was a good thing that the only chips they were betting with were those from the snack counter, they decided. No need for anypony to lose their money over what was supposed to be a casual, friendly match. And since they didn't want to get in trouble with the filly's parents for corrupting her, they were careful not to attempt anything that could be seen as such by on-lookers.
Still, they were impressed. A bit intimidated too, but impressed all the same.
One of the players disappointedly put his cards down. "High card. Ten."
"Two pairs. Jacks and sixes," said the second, turning his cards for the others to see.
"Royal flush," the third stated, doing the same.
The three of them turned to their youngest. Sure, she could theoretically match that 'hand', as the minotaurs liked to put it, but the odds were severely against her on account of three of the Jacks already being used. May as well see what she had before they moved on.
Letting her poker face slip for the first time, the filly sighed in vague disappointment as she turned her cards towards them. "...Four twos," she murmured. "...And a joker."
Ponies #1 and #2 felt their jaws hit the table as they realized that Pony #3 had forgotten to remove the joker card before shuffling the deck. Said dealer, on the other hoof, was guffawing when he realized just how the little filly had gotten her name.
Five-of-a-Kind's mouth shifted downwards a fraction, her young mind not understanding why they reacted as they did. "...Huh?"
...
"I'm hugging you."
...
...Wait, what? When did he get his hooves around my neck? "Zeke, seriously. You have to stop making a habit of this."
"No can do," the little pony tells me. "You need it."
And how in blazes does he know that? "Fine, I'll humor you. Why do I need it?"
Zeke fixes me with a face so serious that it's almost laughable. "Fighting too long."
I can feel the coolant rushing through my face again, something which isn't lost on Pinny (or the on-lookers around us). "From the mouths of foals..." she manages to say in-between giggles.
Not bad for only three words: he's not wrong. "Alright, fine," I decide, knowing that I'm going to end up regretting this in a minute. "If I give you a hug, will you please let go and run along? I don't want to take Miss Lane away longer than I need to. The matches begin in about twenty minutes."
"Twenty-three minutes, man," somepony on the opposing team corrects me. I don't bother responding to him; I like to think I was more reliable as a timepiece than anypony else in the alley.
Zeke's face twists, likely to match what's going on in his mind. Finally he nods and smiles cheerfully. "Okay!"
Don't know if I believe him or not, but I might as well go through with it. I place one of my arms around him, holding him close. All the while, I make sure that my face is telling the others that I do not approve of this. Judging from Pinny's continued laughter and the amused snorts from the visiting bowlers, I don't think I'm succeeding very well---
---!
Did... did he just kiss my face? I think he just kissed my face! "Um... Zeke? Was that really called for?" Inwardly, I wince at the lack of force behind my protest.
"Nope," he cheerfully replies. "That was grat... gratui... uh..."
"On the house?"
His face lights up. "Yeah, that's it! On the house!" He gives me another quick squeeze, then jumps down and trots off. "Bye, robot lady! Bye, bowling lady! Enjoy your game! Gonna find Energy!"
"You sure he needs it?" Pinny wonders half-jokingly, watching him go.
I'm not able to correct her belief that 'Energy' is something other than a name, on account of my processor dwelling on what just happened. One hand drifts up to where I was kissed...
...and after a moment, my week-long resolve finally splinters as the unbridled cuteness of the Equestrians overcomes me. "So adorable!" I breathe.
Was that my voice? That squeak couldn't have been my voice.
"Ee-hee... ee-hee... ee-heeheeheeheeheehee..."
Leviathan stared straight ahead at the empty auditorium, her face containing the world's entire supply of 'not amused'. "It's not funny, Drama Heart."
This only served to shift Drama's gigglings into straight-up cackling. "Eh-hahaHAA hahaha-hee~! Oh-hohohoho...!"
...
Outside the building, a passer-by shivered as the echoes of Drama's laughter reached him. As he picked up his pace, he decided never to walk past the Pyre after sundown again. The place was just too creepy.
"Hee... yes, I think I'm good. I feel much better now."
"Excellent. Now if there aren't any further interruptions..."
I don't know why Zeke felt like he had to do that. The hug by itself was more than enough, but to add a kiss on top of that? I just can't get my mind off of it. Did he know for a fact that I'd been fighting for too long, or was that strictly a personal opinion? Because if it's the former, he's incredibly perceptive for a child. If it's the latter, then he's just being a lovebug.
I've already established that I enjoy a good fight more than almost anything. It's in the name: I'm a combat Reploid, after all. However, that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of appreciating a peaceful way of life. Every time I see the ponies around me going about their business and interacting with each other peaceably, part of me wants to smile. If Copy X and Dr. Weil hadn't gotten it into their heads to ruin everything, this would've been the pre-dominant way of life back home. The energy crisis would have been eventually solved thanks to Dr. Ciel's genius intellect, and organics and robots alike would have entered a golden age.
If only...
Maybe Zeke's right. Maybe I have been walking the battlefields long enough. Once I get home and help kick Dr. Weil to the curb, I'll have to think about setting aside my Javelin once and for all and focusing on what's more important.
The sad thing is, that's probably not what's going to happen to me. Even without taking Zero into account, my desire to be challenged is going to keep drawing me back into the fray. Eventually something will destroy me, and no unlikely jaunts into a new universe will save me when that happens.
What to do...
"Miss Lee-viathan, are you home up there?"
Pinny's mispronunciation of my name brings me back to reality. "Sorry. I'm awake."
My arm's nudged good-naturedly. "You don't need to zonk out because of some random puppy love. He's far too young for you."
"I don't think he sees me that way, Miss Lane, and even if he did he's not my type. So if we're done embarrassing the killer robot, could you get back to your explanation?"
"Right. Sure."
...
With that out of the way, Pinny gets back to talking. The EBL, it is explained to me, consists of fourteen teams; it had previously been thirteen, but one of the higher-ups insisted on allowing one more team to be formed to even things out (personally, I think whoever it was puts too much stock in superstition). The Ponyville team I'm seeing now was born from that insistence. "A varied-looking bunch over there..." I say, seemingly to myself.
Pinny's smart enough to catch what I'm trying to ask. "I've never met any of them personally, but I know a little about all of them." She gestures at the dirty blonde-maned one who had tried to correct me on the time earlier. "That's Letrotski. He was involved in some sort of incident recently involving a rug and a rich pony with the same name as him... I couldn't make sense of it, just that the case was settled out of court. The one next to him claims to have fought in a war against the Griffon Kingdom, which makes no sense when we've been on peaceful terms with them since before his grandparents were born. Also quick to lose his temper." She nods at the third member of their team. "That one's more known by his nickname 'Donny' than his real name, and he's the best bowler of the four. He's on track for setting the league record for the most strikes in a row." She smiles, her blushing evident. "Nice-looking, too..."
I've been rolling my eyes a lot since I got here, I've noticed. "Focus, Miss Lane. What about their fourth?"
Pinny grimaces and lowers her voice. "I've heard some bad stuff about that one. He had to spend some time in prison because he was harassing foals. Only reason he's even allowed on the team is because he's just that good at bowling, and even then we've got everypony watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything funny. Keep an eye on him too, would you?"
I'm sure it's not a coincidence that he was staring in the direction that Zeke had gone while everypony else was paying more attention to me. "Understood."
The long-legged unicorn smiles thankfully, then continues at a more reasonable volume. "...And all four of them dabble in clothing manufacturing on the side. Those shirts and suit coats they have on are entirely their own make. Pretty sure it's their day job during the off-season, actually..."
...
Turkey Bowl did eventually show up to greet me alongside the other two members of his team. Pinny told me that he was just getting ready, but he was wearing the same gray jacket that he had on him when we first met. I assumed that she meant that he was just trying to get in the right frame of mind for a competition.
"'Frame' of mind. Cute."
"Trust me, it wasn't intentional. Anyway..."
After a few inquiries as to how life in Manehattan was treating me alongside general small talk, I give my thanks to Turkey and Pinny and left to find a seat that would allow me to see everything. I wonder a little if this was how it was going to be: Turkey was one of the first ponies I interacted with directly, and you'd think that after our meeting in that grocery store I'd be seeing him more often. As it stands, our interactions have been lackluster, few and far between.
Maybe that's because he's more sane than Gray and Drama. The more touched in the head they are, the more likely I am to spend time with them. Turkey strikes me as being a "normal" pony, and I don't mean in terms of wings and horns or the lack thereof. He's just a pony making a living by doing what he does best, with no real quirks to be made aware of. He doesn't have any real reason to interact with me on a day-to-day basis, and doing so would probably take him out of his way.
"Not true. Turkey's been at the Pyre often enough that I can recognize him easily. He's been to each new show I've put on at least once, plus a few during the day. Keep your eyes open, Fairy. I'm sure you'll be talking to him again."
"If you say so..."
For a time, things were uneventful. There isn't anything for me to say about the games themselves beyond them being contests of accuracy and skill. There was one more minor fact I picked up in that the team who won needed to have the highest combined score after three games, but that was just small stuff.
Also, there's ponies being able to pick up large objects with a single hoof. I'd seen one of those thieves do something similar with his knife when we fought, but there's a serious difference between that and a bowling ball. It serves as a reminder that not all biology is universal.
It was after the second game ended that shenanigans started happening...
Pinny pumped a hoof as the pins went flying, the official scorer logging her final strike of the second game. 235 points, she mused as she trotted back to her seat. Far from my best game, but it could be worse. If it hadn't been for that 7-10 split on the 9th frame... oh, well. At least Turkey and the others are picking up the slack.
According to Turkey, his special talent had to do with his unerring accuracy. Simply put, whatever he aimed at, he hit. However, in most matches he preferred instead to rely on his more natural skills in order to give the opposition a fighting chance. Against Ponyville's Donny, that wasn't an option: he needed to be counted on to bring his A-game. As such the two of them matched each other frame for frame, Donny shattering the league record for consecutive strikes in the process (and receiving a nice round of applause from all those present).
In-between games there were short breaks to allow for refreshments to be served and trips to the restrooms to be made. Almost immediately the Ponyville team's 4th member got up to leave, citing the latter. Those that were suspicious of him--Leviathan included--watched as he did, and most only turned away when they were satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere near the foals within the alley.
As the pegasus from the snack counter pushed a trolley full of food and beverages through the area, Pinny decided to double-check out of curiosity's sake as to where all the foals were situated. The huggy one, Zeke, and a more energetic colt that she'd seen running around were watching a game in progress at the opposite end of the alley. A third--closer to a young mare in age--was seated on a chair next to the alley's gaming room, complaining about tilt-happy pinball machines. A fourth was situated in said gaming room talking to ponies four to five times her age, and was being treated with a surprising amount of respect. Not seeing any others and her curiosity being satisfied, Pinny turned away to rejoin her team.
A few seconds after she passed, the stallion everypony was wary of left the restroom and went in the direction opposite of which he was supposed to go. And from her seat, Leviathan's eyes narrowed as she witnessed this.
"Well, it was nice while it lasted," one of the gamblers said to Fiver as they put the cards away, "but it's time we got going. We've got appointments to keep."
"...How often are you in Manehattan?" Fiver asked after swallowing one of the potato chips she'd won.
"Why? Are you interested in playing against us again?"
"...I wouldn't object to that."
The gambler considered this. "If everything goes according to schedule... we should be back in the city in a month, maybe a month and a half. We could meet here at Mustang Lanes again, if you like, but only if its okay with your parents. I have too much respect for Gray Ghost to go against her wishes."
"You keep mentioning that name," one of his friends brought up. "Who is she?"
A wistful smile. "Former police officer. Got herself hurt getting me out of a hostage situation when I was in my twenties."
His friends whistled. "No kidding?" said the one who'd asked. "You've got to tell us that story sometime."
"Maybe later." The gambler held out his hoof towards the foal. "Talk to your mother sometime about this. Tell her that Double Down sends his regards, see if she remembers the name. If she doesn't, it's no big deal if we call this off."
Fiver tapped his hoof. "...I'll see what I can do. Have a good day."
The three gamblers nodded, smiled, and departed, leaving Fiver alone. For a few minutes she tried to decide what to do next. ...Zig-Zag and Energy are cheering somepony on; maybe I should join them? ...I could just come up with games of my own to play, but Mom did tell me this was the sort of place where I shouldn't be alone...
An unfamiliar stallion trotted into the room. He looked left, then right, grimacing when he didn't see what he was looking for. "Peanut butter on a Tuesday... little filly, was there a 'Double Down' here? I was wanting to catch him before he left," he said as he approached her.
Never having paid attention to bowling and not being in the know like Pinny Lane, Fiver exercised her standard level of caution around a stranger instead of going on full 'red alert'. "...Left a few minutes ago," she uttered, backing away a step.
The stallion snapped something that should not have been spoken within earshot of a foal, causing her ears to turn back. "This close! I was this close to getting my money back!" he barked, taking a step forward (and Fiver another step back). "One of these days, I swear!"
"...Too close for comfort," Fiver complained as she tried, and failed, to get some extra space between them. "...Leave. Just because I have trouble yelling doesn't mean that I can't."
"Seventy bits!" the stallion ranted as he got closer, too engrossed in what he was saying to hear her. "I won seventy bits off of him in Pinochle fair and square, and he's never once responded to my requests for payment! Do you know what that makes him? Do you know what that---"
A pair of black hooves struck his side in mid-sentence, staggering him for a moment. Ebony--who was aware of his reputation--pivoted to face him, teeth in a snarl. "Stay away from my sister, creep!"
Between the stallion being a tough-as-nails earth pony and Ebony only ever exercising enough to keep herself in shape, the unexpected strike didn't keep him disoriented for long. He recovered and turned his attention to her, several levels more aggressive than he had been. "You did not just do that," he growled. "Did you just buck the Haychus? Nobody bucks the Haychus!"
Not feeling as brave as she had been, Ebony squeaked out an "Uh-oh". Whirling around, she galloped out of the room and hustled for the building's nearest exit. "Heee-aaaalp!"
"...Wait for me," Fiver whispered, not far behind.
...
The stallion would have followed them, but a wall of blue jumped in his path just as he exited the room. He gulped as the killer robot who was attending the matches straightened, her arms folded and her eyes judging him. "Those children are under my protection," she warned. "Harrass them at your own peril. You had best return to your team."
"Alright, alright, okay," 'the Haychus' acquiesced hastily, slowly retreating back to where he was supposed to be. "I get it, I get it. I ain't going to bother anypony."
"M-M-Mannequin!" the filly who'd struck him was heard shrieking, drawing both the robot's attention and a sigh. As soon as her attention was diverted, the stallion bolted.
To me it seemed like a good thing that I'd stepped in... or dash-jumped in, as the case may be. The conversation I picked up on my way over, along with Ebony's cry for help, didn't bode well.
Of course, Ebony's standard greeting for me isn't necessarily a good thing, either. "Hello to you too, Miss Ebony. Miss Fiver."
"So cool," Energy breathes, attention grabbed by the spectacle. He and Zeke are close by, staring up at me with starstruck visages. I can hear the ponies who were playing over here murmuring in the background, but I can't quite hear what exactly they're saying over the children.
"...I didn't know you were here," Fiver comments. "Where were you?"
"Watching the EBL games at the other end," I say, gesturing over my shoulder. "I was asked to keep an eye on that stallion to make sure he didn't try anything funny. I'm told he spent some time in prison a while back for his treatment of foals." And I have a pretty good idea of what that treatment amounted to. I don't know how that works with this species, and I don't want to know.
Ebony shudders, ears turning down on hearing this. It's just now sinking in what kind of pony it was she was dealing with, and she doesn't like it. "Fairy? I-I don't want to b-be here anymore..."
"Understandable," I tell her. "Do you want me to see if Gray can take you home?"
Energy quickly shoots that idea down. "Not until four, not until four. Mom's still on the clock working. I don't think they'll just let her leave early."
"...And we can't go to the marina where Dad works," Fiver adds. "They're okay with one of us being there. All four of us?" She shakes her head. "No."
"Too much mischief," Zeke finishes, dejected. "Apparently we're menaces."
Raising a hand to my chin, I rapidly consider and shoot down some ideas before deciding on what I felt was a logical course of action...
"I think I'm seeing where this going," Drama cut in. "You decided to bring them to the Pyre so that you could keep an eye on them until their mother was in a position to watch over them again."
Leviathan nodded. "I left a note where Gray could find it, apologized and explained to Turkey Bowl and his team why I was leaving early, and took the foals to a hayburger joint so they could get something to eat (my treat). Following that I took them to the Pyre, and I told them stories from Neo Arcadia... for all of five minutes."
"Found you quickly, didn't she?" Drama deadpanned.
"In retrospect, I should have just asked her if I could take them with me instead of leaving without her permission. I wasn't expecting her to immediately drop what she was doing and set out to find me. And when she did?" She grimaced. "Ugh, just... wow."
"...so keeping in mind what I just said about his demeanor, you'd think he would take everything seriously," I say to the attentive foals in the lobby. Eebon's eyes are shut, but her ears are straight up: despite her fear, she's listening to me. "Then one day one of Harpuia's technicians checked the security footage, and we discovered that Zero spent half an hour trying to use a glorified pogo stick to reach an alcove in the ceiling---"
An internal siren blares. I jump to my feet so quickly that it causes the foals to haphazardly follow suit, almost falling over backwards as they do so. "Threat inbound!" I shout, summoning my Javelin and whirling to face the entrance. "Hide, quickly!"
The children scatter in all directions, and I brace myself to intercept something that's going to fly straight through the door---
Whumpf. "Ow!"
Correction: straight into the door, prompting a mutter of "I wish she'd stop doing that" from Ebony. Gray drops to the ground, gesturing angrily at the door handle before massaging her forehead. She is not a happy camper.
"...and for the record, I'd like to say that thing's surprisingly durable."
"It ought to be. That's ballista-proof glass there. Ridiculously expensive and impractical for mass production, but it'll stop most anything that's smaller than the door itself."
Stare. "...What."
"Listen, this wasn't always my home, alright? Just keep talking and stop giving me that look."
Dismissing the Javelin and knowing that I'm going to regret doing this, I reach for the door, unlock it and turn the handle.
Gray doesn't disappoint me. The moment she has enough space to enter, she leaps onto my torso and gets a grip on my coat's collar, bringing herself eyeball-to-eyeball. There's so much fury filling my vision that my systems have her labeled as a Class 'A' threat: not as high as X or Zero, but still enough to be considered an equal to any of us Four. "I want you to listen to me and listen good, Leviathan," she hisses. "I like to think I can trust you enough to watch my babies if I'm somewhere close by. And maybe if you'd asked me directly if you could take them somewhere, I would've considered it. But that's just the thing: you didn't ask!
"I couldn't hear Energy or Zeke anymore! I couldn't see any of them anywhere! The note you left said you were taking them here, but it didn't say why!" Oh. "I had to ask Turkey's team about it in the middle of their match! If that young lady hadn't told me you were protecting the children from a perceived threat, I would've gotten it into my head to take them back by force!"
"But Gray, I---"
Her rant, plus one of her hooves, stops my protest before it can really begin. "Fairy, an ultimatum. Notes are not good enough for something like this. If you want to take the foals someplace--preferably someplace safe--then you speak to me directly. Do not make me worry by taking them out of my sight without an adequate explanation, you understand?" She jabs her hoof against my mouth a few times, less to do damage and more to try and get her point across. "You even think about doing that again, I will twist that Javelin of yours into a pretzel! You hear me?! A PRETZEL! Do you understand?!"
Wha... this... she just...
Gray shakes me a little, my internal gibberish not enough for her. "Well? Do you? ...Answer me! Equish! Do you speak it?!"
I can't think of any Neo Arcadian civilian, outside of maybe my old friend, who would have both the guts and the will to tell me off like this. Virtually everything that would make sense for me to say is flatlining before it leaves my processor. As such, there is only one word that escapes my throat. "...What?"
Her dilated eyes are the first sign that this wasn't the answer she was looking for. Making a noise that sounds like a twisted union between a screech and a groan, Gray jumps off me and gallops into the stairwell. She slams the door behind her, and for a second all is quiet. What is she---
Before I have the chance to finish the question in my mind, Gray answers it. I flinch as an ear-rattling ruckus shakes the wall I'm leaning against, the carpet in the stairwell being ripped apart and the stairs themselves being torn asunder. The analytical side of my mind is wondering how exactly she's accomplishing this. The side responsible for fight-or-flight wants to... well, I'm not really sure what it wants, because it's throwing up its hands and quitting.
I start to walk towards the door, but Fiver holds out her hoof and stops me. Is that concern I'm seeing in her stoic eyes? "...Nopony can talk to her when she's like this," she informs me gently. "...She'll forgive you eventually. She always will. Just not right now."
"O-on the plus s-side," Ebony manages to get out in light of her proximity to me, "t-this means she l-likes you enough t-to think of you as a f-friend. N-not like that's a-always a g-good thing, w-with us..."
Subdued, Energy and Zig-Zag stay quiet. I keep myself from saying anything as well, instead nodding minutely in agreement with Ebony. Gray's message has been received loud and clear: unless you have a death wish, behave yourself around her children. I've heard of the term "mother bear" before, but this is the first time I've actually seen one in any form. Poler Kamrous would be busting a gut right now if she were still alive.
I'm going to have to trust that the kids can get through to her. I'm getting the sense that trying to explain my side of the story right now, while she's in this mood of hers, would just fall on deaf ears.
Gray storms out of the stairwell and kicks the door shut. The fur around her hooves looks ruffled and disheveled. "Children, we're going," she declares sternly, still angry but down to an eight from a ten. "I read Haychus the riot act when I found out and he won't bother you anymore, so we're heading back to the alley. We'll talk about this after my shift ends."
"...Yes," Fiver agrees as she and the others follow along, giving nothing away in her pace or voice. "...We will."
Zeke looks back at me sadly, and I give him a reassuring smile that doesn't quite reach my heart. It's good enough for him, though, and he trots out the door after his siblings.
...
A full minute has gone by since they left. I walk over to the stairwell and open the door to see exactly what Gray did...
...and quickly close it again. An iceberg stood a better chance of surviving being boiled than I do of successfully explaining what happened to the stairs to Drama. If I still have a roof over my head after this, I'm going to be very amazed.
"...And that's why I was brooding when you walked in," Leviathan finished. "I got swept up in Gray's wake and crashed into a rocky shoreline." She frowned. "I thought I was making good headway on developing my social skills. I guess not."
Drama stayed silent for a time after the account was finished, wondering what to say. Fairy hadn't outright stated it, but it was clear to the puppet master that she was hurting from the experience. Fiver had said that Gray would forgive her eventually, and if Drama had been a gambling pony, she would have bet her bow that Fairy didn't believe the little stoic. Gray's anger had that much of an impact on her.
After a few minutes the fragments coalesced into something coherent, and Drama reached over to pat Leviathan's elbow. It said something about the situation that the Reploid didn't flinch at the action as she normally would've. "I've known Gray for about a year now. The day we met, she was sleeping on top of a wastebasket that used to be set up outside what would become the Pyre, and we hit it off almost right away... not because she was sleeping on the wastebasket, mind you. Given her finances she doesn't attend all of my performances, but she's still one of my biggest local fans. I know her well enough that she's on a very short list of ponies that I can safely call 'friends'. Thing is... she's also the only pony I've known who's ever made me fear for my life."
Leviathan tilted her face in her direction. "Hm?"
"You heard me talking about this with her once already. Once after one of my performances that she'd attended, the rest of Gray's family showed up at the Pyre to pick her up and take her out for pizza. I'd looked outside at that point and saw Ebony, saw how anxious she was, and I got it into my head to play a practical joke on her. So I took out my goblin stage prop, ignored all of the warnings that Gray was trying to give me, and positioned it so that it would be right in Ebony's face when she turned around. The resulting scream was enough to make my hair stand on end, never mind the hair of those nearby.
"The next thing I knew, Gray had bowled me over. It happened so quickly that I have no recollection of the actual impact: first I was on my hooves, then a second later I was flat on my back with pressure on my neck. She was pure fury, eyes dilated and tail lashing all over the place as she told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from her family. The way her teeth were bared, I thought for sure she had actual fangs. For a fleeting moment, I seriously believed I was going to die."
"Did you?"
Drama snorted, not quite suppressing a chuckle at Leviathan's half-hearted attempt at humor. "If I had, I wouldn't be here, would I? Most of her family dragged Gray off of me, and their youngest explained to me in his own way about Ebony's phobia. I felt the same as you're feeling now: unsure of myself, having realized a little bit too late that I'd crossed a very dangerous line. I threw the goblin back into the lobby and went to apologize, but then I realized that the rest of her family were verbally ripping Gray to shreds for her overprotectiveness. Even Ebony was upset at her. And wouldn't you know it, she never even tried to defend her actions: she just sat there looking as if her world had collapsed around her.
"I approached her, and she turned to look at me. I was clearly in the wrong for what I'd done, true, but the first thing out of her mouth was a heartfelt 'I'm sorry'. It was like all of her anger was just... gone. I told her that if she was willing to accept my apology, I could accept hers. She was fine with it, Ebony was okay with it as well, and that was that. The next time I saw Gray a week later, she was as good-natured and laid-back as she'd ever been."
Drama rested her hoof on Leviathan's hands, smiling reassuringly. Her 'sanity meter' was as high as it had ever gotten. "The point I'm making, Fairy, is that I'm sure Gray is just as torn up about this as you are. It goes against her nature to stay angry at others, so you don't have to feel that you have to sulk. We might struggle to form connections sometimes, and we might be the flakiest species in the world, but not everypony is inclined to hold grudges over honest mistakes. If you get the chance to talk to Gray tomorrow, you might be surprised to find that she really does consider you to be a friend, like Ebony told you."
New life entered Leviathan's eyes. "Are... you sure?"
"Guaranteed. In fact, I can arrange it." She withdrew her hoof and trotted for a small set of stairs at one corner of the stage.
Leviathan watched as she climbed down and headed for the exit. "Where are you going?"
And just like that, the meter was spiked downward. The eye she turned on Fairy as she headed for the exit was rapidly twitching. "Oh, I just have some business to take care of. Meet me outside in about twenty minutes. I'll need you to carry me and my things up to my apartment when I get back."
With nothing else to say the unicorn left the auditorium, leaving Leviathan with a hunch as to what "business" she was referring to but little else to work with.
...
A little filly disappearing shortly before she was to start kindergarten. Her parents left as frantic, nervous wrecks for weeks.
...
Gray had just started to drift away for the night, a faint image of something she couldn't place settling into her brain, when she heard a quiet tapping at the apartment door. Climbing off the back of the couch, she headed for the door and opened it a crack, peeking through it curiously as she wondered who'd be visiting at this time of the evening. "Hello? Guard resid---WHAA!"
The feline-minded pony found herself yanked through the now wide-open door, face to face with the seething Salamandra. "I am reopening the theater," the furious unicorn told Gray in a dead-serious hiss, their eyes scant millimeters apart. "You will report to me at 10:00a.m. each day of the week starting tomorrow. You are not allowed to back out of this until you have earned every bit necessary to pay for the damage done to my theater. And no, you are not allowed to use 'but she took my babies out of my sight' as a defense."
Gray's ears turned down as she realized the scope of Salamandra's anger. She knew better than to try and wriggle out of the situation, and she might've had nerves of steel, but there was still one matter that left her anxious. "I can't just leave them all alone while Ocean's at work," she protested weakly. "And I can't take Ebony with me. Not after that time you scared her."
"Should have thought of that before you ripped up my stairs," Salamandra snarled. "10:00a.m. sharp tomorrow. Friend or not, if you don't show up, I will send you the bill and Mortar & Son will get on your case about it if you don't pay it."
"Do you have room there for two?" a younger voice piped up anxiously, Ebony making herself known at the doorway.
"I thought you were asleep," Gray chided her quietly as Salamandra freed her from her magical hold, letting the two face each other. "And what do you mean 'two'?"
"Couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about what happened earlier," Ebony admitted. "And the more I dwell on it, the more I want to help do something about it. Miss Heart, do you have room for another part-timer?"
Gray's mouth hung open, the pegasus surprised at her daughter's initiative. Salamandra, while just as surprised, was more unsure. "Why do you want to work at the Pyre, dearie? It's your mother I'm mad at, not you."
"Mom's in trouble because I wanted L-L-Leviathan to get me away from that creepy bowler," Ebony explained, struggling to say Fairy's name for a few moments. "This whole thing started because of a misunderstanding that I'm partially responsible for. I'm legally old enough to be allowed to work part-time in Manehattan, and getting some work experience before school continues would probably be a good idea. Unless your roster is full, is there any real reason why I shouldn't be allowed to work?"
"Your phobia," Salamandra said flatly. "My 'actors' are all mannequins and puppets of various types with my illusionary magic making them seem real. I cannot in good conscience let you work there."
"Who said anything about being around t-t-those b-b-b-blasted things?" Ebony countered, shivering at the thought of it. "Is there any rule that says you can't teach me how to work in the ticket booth? Or even just to have me work pest control?"
This gave Salamandra some pause. "Hmm... with the stairs gone, I am likely to get bugs and spiders crawling out of the woodwork... I'm assuming you already pay for supplies out of your own pocket?"
"Always do. My goal when I grow up is to be an exterminator."
"Most ponies her age burn their allowance money on snacks, games, and toys," Gray remarked, a bit conflicted over Ebony's decision. "She spends hers on things like mousetraps and roach motels."
Salamandra raised a hoof to her chin as she pondered what she was told. "...Tell you what. You come with your mother to the Pyre tomorrow, and I'll see what I can find for you to do. We'll discuss the details then. Alright?"
Just as Ebony agreed, Fiver poked her head out of the bedroom shared by all four siblings. Her mane, no longer held in place by her hairband, hung limp. "...Would you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here."
"I thought we were being quiet," Gray murmured, her tone sheepish.
"...You were." Fiver walked out of the room to join them. "...But I'm not a heavy sleeper like my brothers. It's harder for me to drift off."
"I apologize for disturbing you at this time, little dearie," Salamandra admitted gracefully. "I'll be on my way now. Don't forget, Gray: you and Ebony, 10:00a.m. on the dot tomorrow. Be there."
Fiver held out a hoof, stopping the unicorn as she turned away. "...Before you go..." She walked up to Salamandra and wrapped her forelegs around her as best as she could, surprising her. "...Give that to Fairy when you get the chance. As thanks for helping us today." She turned her head towards Gray meaningfully as she let go, her mother awkwardly looking off to the side with a blush. "...I didn't get the chance earlier."
Salamandra smiled playfully. "I will pass that along. A good night to all of you."
...
As Fiver made herself comfortable on her little trundle bed a minute or two later, her ears caught Ebony's whisper. "Hey. Why'd you hug her? I thought you typically stayed away from ponies you didn't know very well."
"...Demonstrating my sense of humor," Fiver bluntly stated at the same volume. She rolled onto her side and pulled her blanket over her head until only her muzzle was visible, making it clear that she wasn't interested in talking further.
Ebony stared at the wall, not knowing what to make of that. Her sense of humor? Wha...?
"WHA?! Drama, what are you doing?!"
"Passing along a 'thank you' from a foal, dearie."
"I don't think hugs are meant to be that tight! Get OFF!"
Gray and, surprisingly, her children turned up at the Pyre at ten the following morning. While Drama took Ebony into her office to talk to her and the others scattered around the lobby, I approached Gray to formally apologize. She told me in reply that while what I did was wrong, she was no less guilty in her own actions: the scolding she received from her children after her shift at the alley ended made that clear. Violence was not, and should never be, an option if there are other choices available. She accepted my apology, and I hers.
She asked me afterward if I wanted to be friends. I started to say that there wouldn't be much point to it given my goals, but something made me stop.
One of the things I've noticed in the time I've been here is that I'm being forced to confront myself, as it were. My understanding of reality, my interactions with civilians, how I treat those who disregard the law, my status as a Guardian... all of that in the span of a week. It's making me take another look at who I was. Who I am now.
And what I want to be in the future.
It's all well and good if I'm able to return home in a reasonable time span. But suppose in the worst case scenario that I'm not able to. What would happen then? Would I be able to find a place for myself here? I don't mean that in the sense of actually owning a house. I'm talking about being able to do something with my life. As far as I can tell, I'm not really needed on the environmental front: the ecosystem by and large looks pretty clean around here. And on the military side, while there's still crime--some things are universal, after all--it doesn't look like that it's anything the Royal Police can't handle.
What place is there here for someone who isn't able to do the things they were designed to do? And do I really want to find the answer to that question alone?
The simple answer to that last question is no, I do not. Everything major I carried out back home post-modification was with someone providing me with support, whether it was my own squadron or my fellow Guardians. Whatever may happen in the future, whether my path takes me back to Neo Arcadia or leads to a dead end here, it wouldn't hurt to find solid backup. It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.
Princess Celestia's already extended her hoof in friendship to me. As things stand, there's no reason for me to reject a legitimate offer from one of those under her rule.
So I held out my hand, took Gray's hoof, and accepted her offer. I thought at first that I'd heard her purring somehow, but it turned out to be the building's air conditioners at work. Good, because that doesn't sound like the sort of noise a pony should make.
...
Other things have happened. I'll go through them from least important to most and bring you up to date.
First: Drama explained to me the significance of that gag gift she got me. A lot of large towns and cities throughout Equestria have some sort of symbol that they identify closely with. For her birthplace of Baltimare, that symbol is a local bird called an 'oriole' known for its black and orange coloration. That particular scheme clashes with my preferences for blue and white... so of course she thought it would be perfect for me, and she snagged the hat at a gift shop before hopping on the train back to Manehattan.
No, I haven't worn it yet. Maybe someday if I'm feeling especially whimsical, but not now.
Second: not counting those I discarded the day Drama took off, I've thrown out twenty-four pieces of mail that are either business offers or complaints about me and my presence. I asked her about them the morning after she returned, and she told me that if I didn't want to affiliate myself with any company, that was my call to make. So, I'm just not going to bother.
Third: I received my papers and ID from City Hall in the mail. For better or worse, I'm a citizen of this city now. I'm still not completely sure how I feel about that, so I'll save those thoughts for later.
Fourth: I have a checking account now at First Equestrian Bank of Manehattan. Drama was just as surprised as I was by Alexandrite's confession and enclosed check. She suggested that I take the check to the bank in question, and the teller I spoke with was able to confirm that it was legitimate and help me set up an account. Sooo, now I have four thousand-plus bits to my name in addition to what I have left over from the Midnight Castles' bounties. I don't know what I'm going to end up using them for, so I imagine it's just going to be for one of those "rainy day" deals.
Fifth: Both Gray and Ebony are working at the Pyre now. Drama was infuriated at Gray for destroying her staircase, so she's having her work at the theater full-time until her debts are paid. My patron's taking advantage of this opportunity to get some remodeling done and have my needs taken care of (read: larger stairs and a suitable railing), and according to Mortar & Son it's going to be fairly expensive (and take at least a week to finish everything once they get started). Gray's going to be here a while.
Ebony is bound and determined to help out around the theater in any way she can, if only to gain some work experience before her school restarts and ease her mother's burden a little. She's been helping out in the ticket booth, assisting Drama's other part-timer behind the snack counter (and was he ever thankful for that), and snooping around almost every place on the ground floor looking for vermin, insects and other pests. The only places she doesn't investigate are those that would trigger her phobia, but even then Drama's pleased with her work ethic.
It probably helps that she moved the "guardian statue", as I like to call it, out of the lobby and covered it with a blanket to keep Ebony from getting spooked by it.
The rest of Ebony's "squad" have been regular visitors, too. Gray was loathe to split up the group just because she was needed here, so I've been finding myself in the role of babysitter between the family's arrival at 10a.m. and Ocean Guard getting off work at 5p.m. I've been doing things like having foot races against Pure Energy up and down the block (after remembering to get Gray's direct permission this time), acting as Zig-Zag's chauffeur, playing card games against Fiver and sometimes Energy, and telling stories of my life (with the messier details edited out) to all three. It's the first time that I've deliberately set out to spend time around children for prolonged periods.
I think I'm starting to like it.
Even Ebony's starting to adapt to my constant presence. She isn't shivering quite as much, and while she's trying her hardest not to look at me, I can tell by her ears that she's listening to what I tell her siblings. I've even managed to catch her smiling after one of my comments drew laughs from Zeke. I'll take that as a win.
Sixth: I was notified that the court date for the Midnight Castles' trial has been set, and it was requested that I be on hand as an eyewitness to their attempted raid when it rolls around. I don't like any of them, that mouthy earth pony especially, so of course I agreed. It'll be nice to have this done and taken care of.
Seventh: ...I sent out a letter that asked about what went into the creation of Heartbreakers candies, and I haven't received a reply back yet. It's not terribly surprising, given that the manufacturers are probably very busy, but I'm hoping that they don't take too much longer.
Eighth: The password surrounding my boots' Double Jump system has been broken. I have a new ability in my arsenal now, and it's there for good.
Double Jump: If in mid-air, gain extra height equal to 80% the height of a normal jump. Can also be used to jump across the surface of water without submerging.
I am going to enjoy using this oh so very much. I wish you could see my smile right now...
But the ninth thing I'd like to bring up is my highest source of happiness this morning.
Current Power Output: 99.8% out of 100%.
Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Tank: 97%.
Solar Energy Backup: 100%.
Structural Integrity: 100%.
Auto-Repair Systems: 100%. Currently on standby.
Armor Integrity: 100%.
Motor Control: 100%.
Dash Thrusters: 100%.
Double Jump: 100%.
Coolant Levels: 100%.
Combat Capabilities: 100% overall.
Ice Manipulation: 100%.
Frost Javelin: 100%.
Armed Phenomenon: 100%.
All systems green. Ready to go.
Everything that makes me who I am is in perfect condition once more. It's as if I had never met Omega in the first place. My estimation to Bossa Nova was right on the money. After two weeks, it's finally time for me to work on my highest priority: discovering how to get home. I am feeling absolutely pumped right now.
...
I gently let Drama down outside the front door. Without any means of getting downstairs on her own and her not wanting to disturb a bird's nest on the fire escape, I have to carry her outside whenever she wants to go to and from her apartment. I have strength to spare, so I don't mind. "Here you go. I don't know what time I'm going to be back today. Between that contest with Bossa Nova, my appointment with the Crown's representative and wanting to spend time at the library..."
"Don't you worry about a thing, dearie," Drama assures me. "I managed this place just fine for a year before you came along. I'm sure I can keep the children in line without you for one day. If I need to go back upstairs, Gray's strong enough to carry me."
"If you say so."
I turn away from Drama and take a step towards the end of the sidewalk. I pause and close my eyes for just a moment to savor the summer breeze as it brushes against my face. There was a smattering of rain off and on yesterday into the late evening, but this morning the sky is clear. Somewhere nearby, I can hear birds singing. There's a few ponies out and about on the streets, marginally interested in my appearance but otherwise going about their business. A stray dog takes it easy in the shelter of an awning across the street. A taxi carriage rolls past down the road to who-knows-where.
I've got a full day ahead of me, my readouts are green, and I'm brimming with energy. There's no reason why I can't go out and have some fun.
My hand goes to my coat lapel, and I whip the article off with a flourish. My clothing and armor underneath are as pristine and shiny as they were the day I first donned them. There isn't so much as a dent in my frame, and not a single tear or smudge to be found elsewhere. My helmet's jewel glimmers in the light as I map out the best path to take towards the Big and Taur shop. My smile, which had been missing more than I'd like my first two weeks here, is beginning to feel natural again.
With my destination set, I trigger my dash thrusters. In the split second before I leave the sidewalk and venture into the road, I jump as high as I can. My speed and momentum carry me most of the way across before I start to descend. One of my boots makes a subtle tap against the air; my Double Jump activates, granting me enough extra height for me to grab a ledge and vault onto the rooftops. A giggle escapes me as I continue running, giving way to a joyous laugh before I get two streets away from the Pyre.
If this is how I'm feeling now, I'm going to be delirious once I'm able to go for a swim.
Back in action!
...
Drama snorted quietly as she gathered Leviathan's coat in her magic, hearing the awed comments of those who'd witnessed the Reploid's departure. "And she says she'd never make a good actor," she said to herself as she walked into the theater lobby. "She has some decent flair for the dramatic."
Several pegasi spot me on my trek across the city. I recognize one of them as the one who took the lead in hassling me that thunderous afternoon two weeks ago. "Looking much better!" he calls, waving.
I salute him with a smile, and we race together for a bit. After a short time, the both of them part ways with me and soar away into the sky, leaving me behind. I don't care; I'm just running for the sake of running. Winning a race was never the point of this.
The point is that I've been relying heavily on others this past fortnight, forced to stay on the down low unless circumstances dictated otherwise. For just a little while, I want to enjoy this freedom I have until the urgencies of life take me back down to earth. I feel I've been allowed this much, and since nopony has tried to interfere with my enjoyment as I put my new system to work, I am thankful for their reciprocation.
I'm not stupid enough to think this will last forever, but I think I've earned at least five minutes. That shouldn't be a problem, right?
The air is rushing against me as I continue to dash and jump across the city. I can see a collection of office towers in the distance, including a handful that would fit in just fine in Neo Arcadia's cityscape, and for a moment I contemplate scaling one of them to get a better view of my home away from home. The moment passes; it's best if I make it to Bossa's place on time for the competition. Panoramic perspectives can wait until later.
"Look up there!" somepony down below calls out. "It's the alien!"
"Here? Seriously? You're pulling my---never mind, there it is!"
That's all the conversation I can pick up on as I leap across another street. What seems to be a condominium with a swimming pool built into the roof is coming up fast. There's a gorgeous-by-their-standards pony sunning herself on a chair next to said pool, and a red-maned sunglasses-wearing stallion at the door. Some fast calculations tell me that I'm just barely going to clear the guardrail. Hearing you loud and clear, opportunity, I think to myself with a mischievous smirk as I re-position myself in mid-air. Hold your horses, I'll get the door.
Ooh, the sunshine is just so warm. Just take it all in, girl. You deserve it all.
Limefrost Spiral, yet another snobbish and stuck-up pony in a city full of them, soaked up the rays of Celestia's sun. She didn't care about the news that an alien robot was in town, as she knew she was never going to meet the robot face-to-face anyway. What she did care about was wanting to look her best when her date showed up.
And even if she did meet the robot, she was convinced that she could win it over. Ah, the arrogance of ponies who overestimate their own charisma.
'Marrying for money isn't going to make me happy', they say. Tch. I'll show them all. Bits are where it's at. Once I'm in his good books, I'm home free. I'll never need to worry about lacking anything again. I'll never need to worry about working again. Then I'll be able to trade in this worthless condo for something much grander. I wonder if Charity Kindheart's manor is still on the market? It's not like she ever used it to its fullest.
Ahh... it's not easy being this level of dynamite, mare, but you've got it. When he gets here at ten-thirty, pour on the charm. Those rich ponies are suckers for pretty faces. He'll never know what hit him.
"FOOT DIVE!"
Limefrost frowned and cracked open an eye at the unexpected yell, ready to lambast whoever it was that interrupted her sunbathing. Her brain had just enough time to register the very robot she'd read about dropping diagonally towards her pool like a meteor, arms folded over her chest and both feet pointed at the water. What she did not have the time to do was scream.
Leviathan plunged into the water at high velocity, sending waves flying in all directions. The most notable of these was the one that crashed into Limefrost, smothering her for a moment. Both pony and chair wound up all but plastered against the rooftop entrance. The culprit jetted through the pool and leapt out the other end, bounding off the guardrail and continuing on her way. "Kyahahahaha!"
Limefrost recovered quickly as the wave receded. She sat up, pushed her chair out of the way and shook violently, trying to get some water out of her eyes. "You idiot!" she yelled at the departing Leviathan. "If I want to get wet, I'll ask for it! How dare you tamper with my gorgeousness!"
A-rap-a-tap-tap.
Limefrost twitched at the sound of somepony tapping the wall. She turned... and did a double-take at the sight of the good-looking stallion standing at the door. If she'd been paying attention, she would have noticed that he'd more or less shrugged off getting drenched. "Smooth Beat! You're here early..."
The unimpressed stallion gestured at the watch he wore... which clearly read ten o'clock on the dot. He adjusted his shades and shook his head, letting her know with his eyes that he wasn't pleased with either her forgetfulness or vanity (or both), then turned and left. The door slamming made her feel like her opportunity had been wasted.
"Wait! Please!" Limefrost desperately called after him, belatedly remembering that this was the time they'd agreed on, not ten-thirty. She briefly wondered how long he'd been waiting as she scrambled to the door. "Come back! I'll freshen up! I'll pay attention to you! Please, just give me a minute to get ready!"
Smooth Beat didn't return; only the sounds of receding hoofsteps answered her. Teeth bared, Limefrost glared out over the guardrail and spied Leviathan just before she dropped into what she knew to be the fashion district. "I lost my future because of you!" she yelled, the idea of the Reploid being out of earshot not crossing her mind. "If you ever drop in like that again, I swear to Celestia---!"
Huh. Could have sworn I heard somepony with more greed and beauty than brains try to threaten me. ...Oh, well. Must've been my imagination. My microphones aren't that powerful.
The Big and Taur shop was easy to locate once I touched down in the district: it was the one with the wall of muscle standing out front. Bossa Nova is waiting next to a table and a pair of stools. "The challenger has arrived," she greets me. She gestures at the hundred or so ponies (plus that one griffon from that grocery store) that have gathered on both sides of the street. I imagine there's probably more watching from the windows. "Bossa has spread the word and told them that she intends to beat you. Don't disappoint her."
"Overconfident, are we?" I respond with a smile, still on an emotional high from my full recovery. "I'm back and ready to dance with the best. Don't do yourself a disservice by underestimating me."
"Your suit is fixed. You don't look like you got mauled by an Ursa Minor anymore. You certainly look like you're at the top of your game." Bossa gestures at one of the stools, her smirk challenging me to a fight before her words do. "Now let's see you stay there, Little Miss Meatless."
I walk to the indicated stool and sit down, going through the motions of rotating my right arm and chuckling at Bossa's half-hearted insult. Wow, I am in a good mood today. "Any rules other than the most obvious?"
"Only that this is a contest of pure might, not guile." She sits down in the other stool. "No cheating allowed. Use only your natural arm strength to attain victory."
"Simple and to the point." My smile shifts enough towards 'dangerous' that those at the front of the audience flinch. "I like it!"
Elbows on the table, hands at an angle. As it did previously, the impact of mine against Bossa's rattles the nearest windows. I take a moment to appreciate the fact that her arm alone is about as wide around as my torso. That's some serious muscle, and it reaffirms my belief that she can use wrecking balls as flails.
Also I have to wonder who's playing music in the background, as I didn't see any record players parked around here. Maybe it's playing indoors somewhere? Whoever it is, they have good taste... at least better than those present who are taking last-minute bets on the outcome. Seriously, ponies?
Bossa points at one of those in the crowd with her free hand. The pony nods, taking the hint. "On the count of three," he calls. "Ready? One..."
Our grips tighten.
"Two..."
Our respective muscles, or what passes as them for me, tense.
"THREE!"
The match begins evenly at first as both arms struggle to make headway. Bossa gets my measure before I can get hers--fitting, considering her occupation--and my arm begins its slow descent towards the table surface. My smile becomes strained as I struggle to counteract the push. Figured as much! This much strength is no joke!
"Go, Bossa, go!" a chant begins as some decide to support the minotaur. "Go, Bossa, go!"
"You can do it, Levi!" a voice I recognize as the griffon's calls out. "Kick her tail!"
Others start to cheer on their chosen champions. 'Levi', huh? That's a cute nickname. I like it. Well, then... far be it from me not to respond to that the way it deserves!
My arm stops two inches from the table as my systems re-route as much power into the limb as it can safely handle. Plus side, we're on our way back to where we began. My cheering section hollers accordingly. "Giving it... all it has!" I force out through my teeth.
Minus side... my other arm feels like it's about to fall asleep. Nothing I can do about that right now.
Once we're back at the starting point, I'm able to tilt the match in my favor as it becomes my turn to push her arm down. Maybe I overestimated Bossa's power---
Wait, never mind! Are her muscles rippling? I thought that was a figure of speech! No understating this, they actually look like they're rippling! My opponent roars a wordless challenge, our elbows sink into the table a little, and my arm stops in its tracks. Slowly at first but with increasing speed, I'm being pushed back. I can't devote any more power to this without damaging my arm, can't make any more progress---!
With a mighty boom, Bossa slams my arm against the table. With the match over, she stands up, throws both hands into the air and bellows victoriously. Those that cheered for her mimic the gesture and respond in kind.
I re-route my power back to where it's supposed to go, and feeling returns to my left arm. I massage my right arm through its guard, examining the imprint that was left in the table's metallic surface. That was... that competition was really something.
Hypothetically speaking, with that much power, Bossa would get along great with Fefnir. He'd always been the strongest of us Four where physical strength was concerned. With my Overdrive inaccessible and having no means of upgrading my strength, there's just no way I can match that.
"Heeheehee..."
So what does it say about me that I feel well and truly giddy right now?
"Stand up, Leviathan. Face me." Not giving me time to do so myself, Bossa pulls me to my feet. "You're right not to act woeful. Were the yearly competitions open to outsiders, I see no reason why you couldn't escape the preliminaries."
"Kyahahaha! That sounds like a compliment. I'll take it!"
"Good, because it was meant to be one. Do you have any means of getting stronger, Siren General?"
I shake my head. "Not at present. All of my limits are built-in. That's literally as strong as I can get without endangering everypony around me."
Bossa dismissed it. "Don't let it trouble you. You let me put my strength to work for the first time in a good while. I'm satisfied with this." When she smiles, it's out of gratefulness. "Thank you, Leviathan. I hope you come back again to challenge me another time."
I glance at the crowd... or more specifically, the griffon ('Gilbert', that's his name). He had a good idea, so why shouldn't I make it public? This will help make it easier for those who have trouble pronouncing my name. "Call me Levi."
The minotaur's bass laughter measures a 4.0 on the Richter scale. She turns to the crowd and raises my arm into the air. "Everypony, a cheer for Levi! A terrific sport and a fierce competitor!"
I've got to say, being cheered for something I deserved to accomplish feels really nice. Take that, Copy X.
At the same time Leviathan Dr. Doomed Limefrost's swimming pool...
Drama had just settled into her seat in her office when she heard the familiar set of knocks at the door. On time, but there's one missing. Usually there's a light scratching at the door on top of that. She trotted back into the lobby and magicked open the door, greeting the Ghost-Guard siblings with a smile. "Welcome, welcome! Come on in, dears." She looked around. "Where's your mother? She's supposed to be here, too."
Ebony led the group into the lobby, shutting the door behind her. "Hi, Miss Heart. That's... going to be a problem. Mom claims that she received a letter from Princess Celestia, and she's required to be present for something." Unsure, her eyes drifted to the side. "She didn't tell any of us what it was about. I mean, I knew they were pen pals, but..."
"Pen pals?!" Drama shrieked, eyes wide. "With the Princess? Since when?!"
"...At least since while we were out of town, if I understood it right," Fiver replied.
Zeke's eyes were the same shape as Drama's. "The actual Princess? Not a pseu...sudo... what's it..."
"...Pseudonym?"
"That thing, yeah."
"Why?" Drama wondered. "Did she say it was a pseudonym?"
"I... I don't know," Ebony said, unsure. "When I first found out, Mom told me that she thought the writer just picked that name to show that they were from Canterlot. I didn't think whoever it was is the real deal."
"It would be so cool if it turned out to be the real Princess Mom wrote to," Pure Energy commented, his hyperactivity at a minimum for now. "Just think about it! Our Mom is friends with royalty!"
Drama settled down a little, her mouth in a not-quite-a-smile. "I guess if Fairy were here right now, she'd have a one-liner or other to offer on the Princess befriending a cat."
"Wait," Ebony cut in, holding up a hoof to stop Drama from continuing. "F-Fairy's not here?"
"No, she's not. I was made aware of a few appointments that she had to keep today, so it's a tossup as to whether she'll be back before your father comes to collect you or not."
"...What kind of appointments?" Fiver asked. "Did she say?"
"She said she was going to spend the afternoon at the library," Drama informed her. "She also said she was going to arm wrestle a minotaur..." She ignored Energy's murmur of "so cool" and continued, or at least tried to. "...and that she was supposed to meet up with a representative of..." Her breath hissed through her teeth as she realized something important. "...the Crown!"
Ocean and Gray didn't raise stupid children. All four of them rapidly did the math. "A letter from 'Princess Celestia' asks Mom to be available for something..." Ebony began.
"...and somepony affiliated with her coincidentally wants Leviathan to meet with them..." Fiver continued.
"...which means that whatever's happening is going to be big!" Energy exclaimed, his enthusiasm spiking.
"Mom Vs. Fairy?" Zeke wondered. He shrugged at the looks the other three were giving him. "Mom's an ex-officer. Fairy's a soldier. Maybe they'll fight?"
"Fight how?" Ebony protested. "She's made of metal! What's bucking her going to do?"
Fiver shoved a stray lock of hair off her muzzle. "...There's more ways of fighting than with brute force, you know..."
...
As the four of them debated as to how their mother would be expected to fight and win against a killer robot with ice powers, the Pyre's owner was thinking of something else entirely. "Tartarus," Drama whispered, turning to stare in the direction Leviathan had gone. "Gray, just what kind of past did you have that the Princess would ask for you to get involved with this directly?"
...
Confusion. Assorted silhouettes against a bright light. The light disappearing.
As large of a city Manehattan was, it had no shortage of schools. Bronclyn High wasn't the most renowned of those schools by any stretch, but it still had a history of both fine education and successful athletics. Banners hung on its gymnasium walls showcasing championships in hoofball and volleyball by the Express against their biggest rivals, the Manehattan Cavalry. Trophies and photographs adorned a display case in a darkened hallway outside the gym, storing the memories of those students who had come and gone.
A pair of doors at the end of the hall opened, admitting two silhouettes. The lights clicked on, revealing the identities of them both.
Captain Shining Armor, currently without his Royal Guard uniform to keep from drawing undue attention to what he was here for, entered the school. Earlier that morning he had paid a visit to a member of the school faculty, requesting to be allowed to enter the building. The principal had been understandably reluctant, but changed his mind after the captain had submitted his credentials and explained his reasons for needing access--and after requesting that the whole thing be kept quiet. After promising that he would lock all the doors and switch off the lights when he finished whatever he needed to do, Shining had received the keys to the building and went on his way.
It helped that the pony who was escorting him was very recognizable and able to speak for him. His girlfriend, Princess Cadance, was officially taking a much-needed break from her duties for the sake of relaxation. Her regalia had even been swapped out for a cap with her Cutie Mark stitched into the front, the item having been purchased from a Canterlot gift shop before their departure. Unofficially, she was here because Celestia had read her a letter from a certain Manehattanite that described the author's love for her family in no uncertain terms. Cadance, being the Princess of love, was curious enough to go and meet her for herself.
"...It's quite a combination," the alicorn said as they walked in. "She's supposed to be a real romantic where her husband's concerned."
"And according to Celestia, she's undeniably fierce in a fight." Shining led her straight to a set of double doors, opening them and heading up the short flight of steps beyond. A distant neighing sound made him flick his eyes about for the cause. "I can see why some would be confused. You normally wouldn't expect the two to go together, but somehow she makes it work."
Upon reaching the top of the steps, the two of them had arrived in the seating area overlooking the school's swimming pool. During the summer, the pool was typically kept available during especially hot days or for those taking swimming lessons; ponies tended to be fine swimmers, but if they wanted to be excellent swimmers, you had to start somewhere. As things stood, the first such class wasn't supposed to start for another few days, and today's temperatures weren't supposed to get unbearably warm.
"Judging from the time, we're here early," Cadance commented, spotting a clock at the far end of the room. "Might as well sit down and wait..."
"Hold on a moment," Shining interrupted, raising a hoof to cut her off. He looked around, suddenly suspicious. "I think there's somepony else in here. There's this odd wheezing noise I can't place, and I don't think it's the air conditioning."
Cadance's ears twitched, and she surveyed the room a bit more cautiously than she had been. Her eyes were drawn to a window situated up near the ceiling, the sunlight passing through it to illuminate the pool's diving board...
She snorted, pressing a hoof against her mouth to suppress a laugh that tried to escape. "Shining, look over there..."
The Guard captain did as his girlfriend suggested. His mouth fell open in an unspoken exclamation of "What am I even seeing...?"
...
The sight they witnessed was their introduction to Gray Ghost. The pegasus was positioned on her back at the end of the diving board squarely in the middle of the patch of sunlight, just a little less than one meter over the water's surface. Her forelegs were curled up near her chin. The wheezing and neighing noise that they'd been hearing was turning out to be her snoring, Gray having been asleep since at least several minutes before they'd arrived. Edging across the seats to get a better view, the two of them were able to discern her contented smile as she slept.
"Now that's funny," Cadance stated, having a smile of her own. "And also adorable. I wish I had been able to bring a camera."
Shining recognized the sleeping pony from the briefing he'd been given prior to leaving Canterlot. "She's the one that Leviathan's supposed to fight! How... how did she even get in here before us?" he murmured, incredulous. "We have the principal's keys, so did she track down the janitor or..."
"Wait, that's her?"
"Gray coat, black mane, and cat's eyes for a Cutie Mark," Shining confirmed. "That's definitely her."
Gray's tail twitched. "Where's my fishy fish dish..." she sleep-mumbled, the words trailing away to nothing as her snoring picked up where it left off.
"..." Cadance regarded Shining questioningly. "So, how do you want to do this? Just let her sleep until the robot arrives?"
"I guess so..." he decided, picking a seat at random and sitting down. "Gotta admit, from the briefing I'd expected her to be a hypercompetent law enforcer. I wasn't expecting her to act like a housecat."
Cadance followed suit. "Maybe this is just one of those 'more than meets the eye' situations?"
"We can hope."
Fun as it was, I left shortly after the match concluded. Something else that I was looking forward to needed to be done, and I didn't want to keep them waiting. The time has come to put my strength to a real test. I said good-bye to Bossa and received directions to my destination from somepony in the crowd before leaving the same way I'd left the Pyre.
My mind goes back to the letter and the package I received in the mail yesterday...
Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia Canterlot Castle
Fairy Leviathan Deep Sea Squadron, Neo Arcadia c/o Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears, Manehattan, Equestria
Dear Ms. Leviathan,
It is my understanding that you will be fully recovered tomorrow as of your reception of this letter. After consulting my proxy on this matter, we have arranged for your test battle against this individual to take place at the indoor swimming pool utilized by Bronclyn High School. The time has been set for 10:30a.m.
In addition, please find enclosed a Dragon Fire candle. These candles are specially made to transport letters and small items directly to their intended recipient from across long distances. Simply light it, hold the item over it, and it will disappear in a puff of green flame. While they can be used for their traditional purpose it is not suggested that you do so, as you will need to extinguish the candle quickly to prevent wastage. The purchase of but one of these candles is fairly costly.
I hope to hear good things from you in the future.
Sincerely yours,
Princess Celestia
From what I can tell, these candles are basically this world's closest equivalent to instant messaging. They're basically good for words and tiny files, so to speak, but not much else. I don't know exactly what she means by "fairly" costly, though. By 'fairly' is she understating what she really means, or is 'fairly' just that: fairly?
Well, the gift was still nice in any case.
When reading the letter, I noticed more evidence that my situation is being taken seriously: they're letting me fight someplace where I would have home field advantage. Assuming that the Police interrogated those thieves, they should already know how my fights on the surface would go. By providing me access to a large source of water that I can utilize at any point during the fight, they're giving me the chance to prove myself to them and show that I'm on the same level as their champion. Obviously whoever it is won't be able to join me underwater, but if they've got magic in their corner, then that makes things even.
...Are they going to be having a unicorn fight me? If so, then I have to be ready for anything.
The school is easily identifiable, and not just because of its name emblazoned on a large sign. This building is the only one I've seen yet that spans an entire city block, as well as the only three-story building that feels to me like an actual three-story building. I won't need to worry about accidentally smashing a hole in the ceiling if I do so much as a short jump in the halls.
The main doors are locked, but the ones for the north wing aren't. Once inside, the metal gate separating the hallway in two makes it clear which way I have to go.
At the end of the hall, there's a singular door that looks like it leads into a locker room, and a set of double doors that leads to a seating area. I figure it doesn't really matter since they ultimately lead to the same place, so I opt for the latter and open them. "Hello?" I call. "I was told to meet here! Is anypony there?"
"Up here!" an unfamiliar voice calls in confirmation. Masculine, early-to-mid twenties. "Come on up!"
If that's not an invitation, nothing is.
...
As I enter, I survey the pool area proper. I can see some safety equipment hanging on one wall... life preservers, vests and the like. "Don't Gallop On Wet Tiles" signs are posted at both ends of the room. A large net lays in one corner, with a white ball, a pile of colorful plastic rings, a few other toys, and a set of foam-esque boards close by. A larger sign that shows evidence of age briefly commands my attention:
"Please Obey the Following:
If you're a pegasus, please don't dive-bomb the swimming pool. Shower off immediately after you're finished using the pool. Chlorine does weird things to a pony's coat. If you're overweight, remember the boogie boards are there for a reason. The volleyball net is not a hammock. The "Don't Gallop On Wet Tiles" signs are not there to make the walls look pretty. If they say not to gallop, you don't gallop. We don't care how warm the sunshine is: do not sleep on the diving board. And no, you can't use "I didn't see the sign" as an excuse. This means YOU, Gray Ghost.
Bronclyn High School Faculty"
That's... oddly specific. Gray must've went to this school when she was younger, but why would they need to make a specific rule for---
My eyes are drawn to the diving board. Sure enough, Gray's there sleeping in a patch of sunshine. Of course. I don't know what else I was expecting.
"Yeah, I don't get it either," the same voice tells me, prompting me to lower my hand from my face and pay attention to him. He's a fairly sizable and muscular stallion, but not overly so. Those white and blue colors look good on him. He raises a hoof as I approach. "Captain Shining Armor of Canterlot's Royal Guard."
"Fairy Leviathan. Private citizen," I greet him in return, tapping his hoof with a fist before raising my other hand in a textbook salute. "Though you knew that already. It's an honor, Captain."
Shining chuckles good-naturedly. "This isn't entirely official, so don't feel that you have to stand on ceremony with me. I can afford to let that slide in informal situations."
I lower my hand, smiling. "Taking that as an order." I nod at the pink pony behind him, who---... Does she have both wings AND a horn?! "And you are?"
"Mi Amore Cadenza. Just call me Cadance," she tells me kindly as she gestures at Gray. "I'd actually heard stories about her from my aunt, so I decided to go along and see for myself."
Pegasus flight and unicorn magic combined into the same pony. Is she who I'm facing? She says she's not, but I'd better get confirmation. I nod and return my attention to Shining. "So, who am I going to be facing? Am I early?"
The unicorn looks puzzled at this. "You were never told?"
"No," I say. "All that Princess Celestia said to me was that I would be fighting a proxy of her choosing. She didn't say who it was going to be."
Cadance utters a long-suffering sigh, facehoofing. "Not this again, Auntie..."
Double-takes don't come quicker than this. "Wait, she's your aunt?"
"I apologize for not introducing myself properly," she answers, straightening. "I'm Princess Cadance, and I'm Celestia's niece by adoption. If she didn't tell you who your opponent was, I can only figure she was trying to get you to loosen up by having a bit of fun at your expense. She does that sometimes."
Princess Cadance. And without any sort of high-ranking status symbol like a crown or fancy robe, I had no means of determining that. Well-played. "So if you're not who I'm facing, then who is?"
"That would be..." Shining turns and points at the diving board. "...her."
At the diving board... and at the snoozing pegasus over the water. "Zzz... this is my favorite chapter..." Gray mumbles in-between snores.
"..."
"Don't give us that look," Shining complains defensively. "If Princess Celestia tells me that she's top tier, then I believe her." He regarded Gray, curious. "Though I am wondering how she intends to demonstrate it..."
I shake my head. "I'm not accusing you of lying, Captain. I'm more exasperated than anything. Neither of you tried waking her up?"
"She looked happy being there," Cadance admits. "We didn't want to bother her."
"I guess I'll do it then," I sigh, turning towards Gray. Let's see, how did Drama do this... ...alright, here we go. This will work. "Ee-hee... ee-hee... ee-hahahahahaha! Showtime, dearies~!"
"Showtime?!" Gray's eyes snap open, and she springs to her hooves... only to slip and fall off the board towards the water. "WHA--!"
A light blue magic aura snaps into existence around Gray before she can fall in, moving her to safety. "Please don't laugh like that again," Cadance requests, the slightest tinge of annoyance coloring her words. "You sound like a deranged clown."
I'll tell Drama you said that. She says she's going more for 'hyena'. "It was either that or dangle some yarn over her nose, and I've got no strings on me."
"Getting the feeling I should recognize that expression from somewhere," Shining says, almost to himself.
Wasn't aware that it was meant to be an expression. I choose to direct my next words to Gray. "You do know that sign over there refers to you, right?"
She turns, blinking in surprise as she sees that yes, there is a sign on the wall. "Wait, they still have that old thing there? I thought they would've taken that down after I graduated."
"That sign isn't exactly hard to miss," Shining points out. "I can see everything it says from here."
"Well, I didn't see it," Gray scoffs. "And the sunshine was warm. So there." She smiles, eyes glimmering with friendliness. "Captain Armor and Princess Cadance, right? You here to watch me total Leviathan?"
...I was going to say just to call me 'Levi', but...
"In a manner of speaking," Shining answers, "though I wouldn't phrase it quite like that. This is to see what Leviathan can do at her best so I can get a report sent to Celestia. We'd rather that you didn't try to destroy her."
"Fair enough, I guess," Gray says agreeably, though it doesn't keep her from pouting a little. "Give me a moment to get my gauntlets. I left them in one of the locker rooms on the way in." She trots through a doorway behind the diving board and disappears around the bend.
"While she's preparing, I might as well get acclimated," I state, smiling broadly. "Been wanting to do this for weeks now." I slip down through the railing and make tracks for the diving board. "Would you two mind scoring me?"
"Are you sure you don't want to prepare for this yourself?" Cadance inquires. "I have to believe this is serious business."
A reasonable question for somepony who doesn't know me. "Princess, this is the first opportunity I've had to enjoy a good swim since I got here," I say as I walk to the end of the board. Not counting that bit of mischief on the way to Bossa's. "Dry land is too dusty for me. Spending a few minutes underwater is how I prepare."
I nod in thanks, backing up a few steps. My eyes close for a moment as I figure out how I want to do this.
The board isn't wet or slippery and my balance is good, so there's no danger of me slipping en route; wouldn't seriously hurt someone like me, but it would still be embarrassing. The ceiling in the room is pretty high... probably another reason why this place was chosen, as it would allow complete freedom of flight for Gray. I open my eyes to check the pool's depth: around ten feet down at this end, and four feet at the opposite end. Deeper than I would have expected from somepony half my size, at least over here.
Doesn't matter. What matters is that it's deep enough to meet my standards. "Three... two... one..."
I skip forward and bounce off the end of the board with all of my enhanced strength. I probably could graze the ceiling if I triggered a Double Jump, but I'll forego that stunt for now. One flip, then two. There's just enough time to straighten out in mid-air after, minimizing my impact with the water---
Perfect. Just enough of a splash to show that I'd dived, but nothing too flashy.
I rotate a complete 360 degrees as I shoot down the length of the pool. My boots' thrusters and my helmet's jet work in tandem to propel me through the water. Just before I would hit my head on the wall, I flip around to kick off of it instead, surfacing for a second before going back under.
Swimming around like this makes me feel free, like I have an entire realm all to my own. The pegasi and griffons have the skies to themselves. Everypony who lives on the land sees it as their personal kingdom. As for me, my domain is the sea. This laughter that the Captain and Princess are hearing right now stems from the joy coursing through my systems. For just a few moments, I can forget the problems that wait for me in the future.
Most everypony has their own opinion on what constitutes an escapism. This right here is mine.
I slow to a stop and resurface near the diving board. "So, what's the score from the Canterlot judges?" I call out.
"If I'm being honest... 9.2," Shining declares. "Excellent dive, but not enough splash."
The Captain's got some wit. Either that, or he has some 'kid' in him still. Either way, I think I'm starting to like him. "And how about you, Princess?"
"9.0," Cadance states, smiling like she's not sure what to think of me. "You get style points for the flips, but I'm not sure if they're strictly necessary."
I snap my fingers in mock irritation. "Tch. And here I was going for a perfect ten. I'll get it one of these days."
"Speaking of 'strictly necessary', I have a question for the record," Shining tells me, not quite hiding his smile at my comment. "Those jets on your feet and head. Are those responsible for your ability to swim?"
"Good question, but no," I answer. "My helmet and boots are optional items; I just like to have them on all the time. I can still swim just fine without them. Losing them just means I'd give up any real speed and have to go about it the old-fashioned way." Which is more than I can say for Fefnir and the others, I recall, smiling at a fond memory. Were they ever irritated. "And since I don't require air to live, I'm not in any danger of drowning."
Looking at Shining Armor, I'm getting the same kind of feeling from him that I got from Charity Kindheart: dependable and entirely trustworthy. As for Princess Cadance... well, she's royalty, and I've already agreed to share information with the Crown. Not being honest with them is a poor move, and it's more likely to foul something up in the future than being completely truthful. I think I can trust them with this information.
Before Shining's line of questioning can continue, a soft fluttering of wings directs our attention to Gray, having returned to the room via the door she'd left through. "I'm back. Sorry about the delay," she greets us apologetically. "I had to make sure my gauntlets were still in good repair. I haven't used them in sixteen years."
I take a moment to check out said gauntlets and whoa-ho-ho-ho-boy those look wicked. Metallic bands encase her forelegs up to the knee. Slightly elongated protusions in the general shape of cat's feet (but lacking the fuzziness) jut out from the bottom of these bands, extending into four points. At the end of each point is a claw, none of which are larger than my fingertips but all of which look dangerously sharp. Both gauntlets are made of some sort of silver-like alloy that I'm having some trouble recognizing. When Gray alights on the floor, I note that whatever the alloy is, the gauntlets' "feet" are flexible enough to rest against the tiles instead of poking holes straight through them.
Cadance seems impressed by Gray's commitment to this whole 'cat' thing. "Wow. You like to take your theme as far as it will go, do you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Gray denies. "Having these gauntlets makes me feel like I have a chance of winning against Fairy. Without them, I just feel... defenseless."
"You ripped up the Pyre's stairwell with nothing but your hooves and teeth," I remind her. "That's hardly 'defenseless'." Which isn't wrong. She probably wouldn't be able to actually destroy me without the gauntlets, but she'd still be able to do at least some level of damage to crucial components. Depending on your perspective, that could still be counted as a win.
Shining whistles at this revelation, but Gray ignores him in favor of looking put off. "Look. I've had forty years to get acquainted with my strengths and weaknesses, alright? Don't tell me what I can or can't do."
I tap my temple. "My sensors don't lie, Gray. When you charged the Pyre that day, my systems pegged you as a Class 'A' threat. Before that, there were only seven individuals I'd ever met who merited that much attention." I turn to regard both Shining and Cadance, giving them a rudimentary examination. Sure enough... "If it helps with the frame of reference... while I don't know what either of them are capable of, my instincts are telling me that both the Captain and the Princess here could probably take me in a one-on-one fight if they were so inclined. Like you, they both register as Class 'A'." I smile encouragingly. "Don't sell yourself short, clever kitty. You're vicious when lives are on the line."
The three of them take my statements differently. Shining has his chin cupped in a hoof (which is anatomically impressive), appearing contemplative. Whether's it's due to his opinion of me, of Gray or of himself, I don't know; any of them are valid. Cadance doesn't seem too thrilled, which I suspect is because she's a gentle pony at her core despite whatever powers she has. I'm not saying she couldn't fight, just that it wouldn't be her first choice.
...
Alertness. Confusion. So close, but out of reach.
...
Gray is looking me in the eyes, unsure. "I knew I'd caught you off guard, but I didn't think I was that threatening. Am I really that frightening when my family's in danger?"
I pull myself out of the pool and climb to my feet. Water slides off of me, unable to find any sort of hold. "Two unstoppable killing machines failed to scare me. One civilian mother left me at a loss for words."
"Huh." Gray turns her eyes away from me, pointing them towards her gauntlets instead. "My family keeps telling me that. I think even Celestia told me that once. On some level I know they're right, but I've always had trouble believing it."
"That explains why you keep calling yourself a 'humble housewife' in your letters to Celestia," Cadance comments.
"Because I am. There's nothing else I want to be. This is my lot in my life." She closes her eyes and beams brightly. I think I see the fangs that Drama told me about last week, so I can let her know she wasn't imagining things. "And I wouldn't trade it for all the world's treasures."
You can hear the sheer devotion to her family through those words. I know I can, and judging from Cadance's pleased eyes she can hear it as well. Shining notices this and nods approvingly. "Everything settled, you two?"
Gray hovers up to eye level. "Sure am, Captain."
"Leviathan, how about you? Are you done having fun?"
"For now."
"Great. The both of you get over here, please." There's a note of eagerness in Shining's tone. It's probably my imagination, but it reminds me of when I once overheard two of my technicians getting a dice game set up while they were on break. I'd said I liked him before, but that confirms it. "Let's get some ground rules laid out so that neither of you go overboard..."
I giggle at this as the both of us approach the railing. "Kyahahaha! I'm the last one you need to worry about going 'overboard', trust me."
Shining rolls his eyes. "Poor choice of words, yes, I know..."
I heard Cadance murmur something about my laughter being more natural than what I'd woken Gray up with, but I dismiss it. We've had our obligatory contemplative banter and friendly interactions. What say we move on to the main event?
Privately, I'm wondering how the good Captain's going to handle this exhibition match. Gray's not wearing any sort of armor, so one good hit from me's liable to grievously injure her, if not kill her. On the flip side, whatever it is her gauntlets are made out of, I don't think it'll do me any damage that my auto-repair can't wipe out inside twenty minutes. This had better not be as one-sided as I feel it's going to be.
As if answering my concerns, Shining Armor's horn and Gray herself are both starting to glow. When the glow vanishes, Gray has a very faint green sheen surrounding her. If I tilt my head at a certain angle, I can't see it at all. "The shield I just gave her is standard issue for practice matches within the Guard," the Captain explains. "It possesses three layers that will each disperse whenever damage up to a certain point is dealt. Leviathan wins if she can destroy the shield inside five minutes. Gray wins if she can either disarm Leviathan of her weapon or fight her to the point that she feels she can't continue. If none of the conditions are met before the five minutes are up, the match is a draw. Do you understand?"
Good. This won't be as unfair as I thought. "Clear as crystal, Captain," I confirm.
"You sure you don't want to give her a shield too? She's going to need it."
Okay, that was uncalled for. "Gray..."
My opponent waves me off. "Not a word, Fairy. I'm just trying to make things fair."
And that was even more uncalled for. "Gray!"
Okay, pony faces really should not look that quizzical. The tilt just sells it. "What's wrong? Not fair enough? I can ask him to reduce mine to a one-hit shield, if you'd like."
There's pre-battle banter, and then there's this. "Gray, I'm saying this for your sake as well as mine: don't underestimate me."
"Have you even seen her fight before, Gray?" Cadance wonders. "Where's that self-confidence coming from all of a sudden?"
"Alright, alright. Sheesh," Gray mutters with a shrug, turning to fly over to the diving board. "You'd think that the opposition would be happy to fight with an advantage, but I guess winning doesn't really appeal to them..."
...Nice try, but I'm not going to rise to that bait. Anyway, Cadance has a point. In the wake of the conversation we just had about her capabilities, where is her self-confidence coming from?
Guess I'll be finding out.
I walk to the opposite end of the pool, summoning the Javelin as I go. Upon reaching my starting position, I level the weapon directly at Gray. The so-called "humble housewife" is hunkered down on the diving board, tail repeatedly whipping the air around her. I can't tell very well from my angle, but it almost looks like her Cutie Mark is glowing a little. I wonder what the significance of that is. "Last warning: don't you dare hold back!" I tell her one last time.
"Suit yourself, fish sticks!" Gray answers cheerfully, licking her lips. 'Disturbing' much?
"Let your skills do the talking!" Shining calls, raising a hoof into the air. I tense in anticipation, the warning sirens blaring in my mind once more.
The Captain drops his hoof. "LET'S GO!"
My intent had been to Double Jump across the pool to meet Gray halfway, but she has other ideas. With a bound off the diving board, she jets down as silently as her namesake straight at me. That's not hyperbole, either: her wings aren't making any sound. I raise the Javelin to block her path, trying to anticipate whether she'll go right, left, or above.
...! Or she'll go below; that works, too! Seriously, she just flew between my legs and kicked the back of one of my knees in passing to try and unbalance me! Thankfully I'm able to stay upright, and I pivot and swing the Javelin in an upwards arc--
--barely missing, as evidenced by the tiny specks of black hair that I managed to sheer off her tail. I shuffle backwards along the floor, trying to keep her in my sights as she makes another attack run--
--just in time as one of her gauntlets whips through the space where my face had been a split second before, coming within a hair's breadth of reaching my eyes. I'm forced to keep backpedaling as Gray's 'claws' furiously slash at me, and she manages three more not-quite-strikes before I'm able to block them with the Javelin's shaft. Her attack thwarted for the moment, she hovers over the pool and beckons me to follow her.
Far be it from me to turn down that invitation. I charge in her direction, channeling energy into the Javelin as I go. As I jump at her, she flies higher out of my reach in a vain attempt to taunt me--
I tap the air with a foot, and my Double Jump activates as planned. "Surprise!" I call, reaching her level. As her eyes widen, I swing the Javelin before me and release all of its stored energy--
Gray's wings stop flapping. The Charged Slash misses entirely as she lets gravity take over, and I only manage to graze the ceiling at best judging from the ice particles that gather there. Blast! She's going to---
And 'blast' is exactly what it looks like she intends to do: her wings reverse her fall, she turns, and a pair of back hooves fly at my---
...!
I blacked out there for a moment... I have to remind myself that bucks around here are capable of hurting me. My face feels like it's on fire without any actual heat, and judging from the pain in the middle of my back, she'd managed to aim me right at the edge of the pool. The impact wasn't hard enough to debilitate me, but I'll still be feeling that the rest of the morning.
Well, then. If she's not going to let me do any close-range dama---
SUDDENLY EYES! "Hi," Gray says to me, having gotten in my face in the time that passed between my being launched and my regaining awareness. One of her claw-covered hooves lashes out---
No, you are not going to damage my optics. I shift my Javelin to a one-handed grip and uppercut Gray away with my free hand, managing to hit her just below her neck before her claws make contact. "Ha!"
Gray does a few backward flips, re-orienting herself over the pool. As she does, I notice that the shield Shining had given her is shifting in coloration from green to yellow. It obviously absorbed the lion's share of the punch; Gray is a bit on edge, but she seems fine otherwise. I'm guessing that she's regretting her attempt to make things as fair as possible for me.
I'm not going to give her time to retaliate. The pool's depth should give me an adequate shield of my own. With as catlike as she behaves, chances are she's not going to want to get herself wet. And without a weapon as powerful as the Z-Saber, she's not going to stay in the air for long in the face of this.
I jet towards the bottom-center of the pool and level the Javelin at Gray, locking on to her hovering form. I deliver the appropriate signal, and the spearhead detaches and shoots up at her. In a miracle of engineering that leads me to thank whoever it was that created the weapon, two more spearheads rapidly materialize and arrow towards their target.
It's not a terribly useful attack if I'm dealing with targets above water, as the projectiles can keep themselves sustained much longer in aquatic battles. That's alright in this circumstance. They don't need to last forever; they just need to keep her occupied.
The fourth and final spearhead locks into place where it belongs. With a deft movement of my fingers I give the Javelin a spin, working to create one of the best techniques I can offer without going full Armed Phenomenon.
Unlike some I could name, I'm not in the habit of calling my attack names out loud. I don't know, it just doesn't feel very... 'majestic' to me, I guess is the right word. That's not to say that they don't have names of their own, and "Spirit of the Ocean" is one that I'm personally proud of.
I mean, please. It's basically a serpentine ice dragon with a head as big as I am. How could I not be proud of it?
Up above, Gray effortlessly deals with all three homing projectiles: the first by bucking it away and breaking it against a wall, the second by ripping it into five pieces with one of her gauntlets, and the third by grabbing it and letting it carry her around the room like a malfunctioning hover vehicle until it runs out of power. It's as the last one dissolves into nothingness--again, props to the engineers--that the Spirit of the Ocean erupts from the pool in all of its fury. I can hear Shining and Cadance's amazed cries (or at least I assume it's amazement) as I sic it on Gray.
Aside from a bit of wariness after I slugged her, she's been very laidback and confident about this whole thing. This time, she looks like she's taking it seriously; reading about something in the paper is one thing, but seeing it firsthand (firsthoof?) is another. She zips out of the dragon's flight path, then keeps flying with a cry of "You're kidding me!" when the dragon turns to pursue her. The Spirit's not overly fast compared to the average pegasus, but it works fine for what I typically need it to do.
I can tell right now that Gray's options are limited. She can't just scoot out of the way and let the dragon smash itself against the wall, as that would cause collateral damage to the building. And she just can't keep flying until the time limit runs out: by her own admission she's not a 'young' pegasus anymore, and her stamina isn't what it used to be. In addition, the Spirit can maintain its cohesion for a good while before it finally breaks apart. So tell me, clever kitty: do you have a plan for getting out of this one?
"Three minutes remain!" Shining calls out a reminder.
Gray's annoyed growl reaches me through the water. "You're going to sit down there for the rest of the duel and hope for a draw, aren't you? Get up here and fight!"
"The best generals are the ones who win without fighting!" I retort with a smile, not that she can see it through the water. "You'll have to come down here and get me if you want me to fight that badly!"
"...Good idea. Thanks for the tip!"
Wait, what is she---
Gray's eyes have closed. She has stopped dodging the Spirit altogether, and I can see it coming in for another charge. She's flying around in circles, faster and faster, her revolutions increasing rapidly and the air circulation reacting in kind...!
And I really should've kept my mouth shut. In complete defiance of natural laws and without any sort of tech aiding her, Gray has created a localized tornado indoors on her own power. The Spirit of the Ocean tries to break through, but crumples in the face of the wind speed and pressure---
The pool's water and everything in the room below the ceiling that isn't nailed down are getting rapidly sucked up into the tornado, and I can feel myself getting pulled along with it. My own fault for picking the wrong vantage point, but how was I supposed to know that she was going to try something like this?! I'm sure this breaks at least one law of physics!
I whirl and try to jet away, but the tornado's attempting to yank the Javelin out of my hand. Out the corner of my eye I spot a brief flash of light: a translucent magic shield several meters across has popped into existence in front of Shining and Cadance, protecting them from the buffeting winds. Both of these details serve to remind me of the conditions for this match, and I tighten my grip, not wanting to lose my weapon. My fingertips graze one of the pool's ladders...
"Whhaaa~!"
...but they can't find a definitive hold. Even at my fastest I can muster in these circumstances, Gray's tornado is too powerful for me to outrace... and this is a humble school swimming pool, not the open ocean, so it's not like I would be able to go anywhere. It still doesn't make losing control of my path any less embarrassing, though. Ditto for that shriek that just left my lips.
My eyes flick about as I try to keep track of Gray's twisting movements, even while I'm being thrown around against my will. Aside from the pool water, all of the toys I'd seen earlier and three dozen broken pieces of ice dragon are buffeting me every which way. If Gray wants to win this session, she's going to have to stop controlling the tornado and strike me directly, so---
No, wait... she's adjusting her course, slowing down... and the tornado's losing strength? Alright, I see what she's planning now. Prior experience from my practice bouts against Harpuia are suggesting to me that she's going to try to send it all crashing down outside of the pool, and me along with it. At that point, she's going to strike me while my guard is down.
It's all in the timing and how the tornado drops me. If I'm anywhere close to upright, I should still be in a position to block her attack, but if she drops me on my head, then that's going to leave me wide open while I'm stunned. Helmet or not, that's not going to do me any favors at these speeds---
...And of course the tornado's going to drop me head-first, I don't know what else I was expecting! Can't quite lift my hands to defend---!
...
...
Ooorgh, I'd almost forgotten the sheer dizziness that comes with being caught in one of those. My equilibrium's way off balance... I'm happy I haven't eaten any Heartbreakers in the past hour. My cranium's still intact, but I think there's cracks in my helmet... going to have to fix that later. My energy output's dropped by twenty percent to account for that hit. And why are all these tiny little pegasi that resemble Gray flying around my head?
Man alive, I've been in Equestria too long. I'm starting to see things.
Something's catching in my left hand as I stabilize myself. I pull myself upright, using the Javelin for support---
Slash.
"...!"
Did... did something just pass through me? What was that ghostly sensation? And... why am I feeling vaguely disconnected from the world...?
"Leviathan! Are you alright?" I can hear Cadance calling. "What did Gray just do?"
Gray did something? Was... was that her? Did she do something? Looking down, I'm not seeing any sort of damage from a direct hit, so---
I woozily turn my head to look at Gray, still feeling disoriented from her washing machine's spin cycle. She has her back to me a few meters away, lowering one of her forelegs. Her Cutie Mark is pulsing as opposed to merely glowing. Her bedraggled mane's making her look like she's wearing a wet mop on her head, so I guess creating a tornado over water didn't do her much good either. She tilts her head to look back at me, deftly using one of her gauntlets to get her mane out of her eyes. "I am the cat that walks by herself," she says in a matter-of-fact tone, though her words are directed to Cadance. "And all places are alike to me."
...
And in a hundredth of a second, I realize what she did. That strange sensation I felt a moment ago was Gray's gauntlet phasing clear through my torso and endoskeleton, by complete chance shredding the connection between my ice generators and my CPU. My ceratanium frame did nothing to slow it down. I don't think she was targeting my generators specifically; she just wanted to do some sort of damage.
Gray shakes violently, scattering water in all directions. I ignore her for just a moment as I wonder how she did this to me. Was it a special property of the gauntlet? Couldn't be. I was able to block her earlier strikes just fine. As I stated, I noticed that her Cutie Mark was blinking... not in the sense that the eyes were behaving like the real deal, but that there were slight emanations from it. It wasn't doing that in the two minutes prior...
"Two minutes left!" Shining's voice interrupts me briefly.
Scratch that, three minutes prior. So however it was that she carried out that strike, it has to do with her own unique talents as a pony. I'd better think fast on this: I only have a few seconds at most before Gray goes back on the attack.
I've had a lot of time to talk to Drama whenever she wasn't busy, and along the way she's told me about the connection between a pony's Cutie Mark and their capabilities. According to her, Marks are representative of a number of different things, including their personality, desires, and/or whatever it is they're good at doing. Celestia's sun Cutie Mark, for example, is indicative of her connection with said star. Drama's flaming tragedy mask shows her love and passion for theater. The young colt Pure Energy has a spiral-shaped question mark that I'm told refers to his erratic tendencies and hyperactivity.
With that in mind, what does Gray's Mark symbolize?
As far as I know, Gray has always behaved like a cat. She sleeps wherever she wants; she's protective of her young to an almost uncanny degree; she's excellent at sneaking up on others; she treats ponies like Celestia, Shining Armor, Cadance, and her former boss with the Police like they're her equals instead of her superiors; she's not very good at telling the difference between glass and open air; she paws at the Pyre's front door instead of knocking; she lets next to nothing worry her for long; she tends to act before she thinks, almost on instinct; she has unerring confidence in her ability to defeat anypony she views as inferior to her...
"AAAGHHH! Gray, I'm the one who's supposed to do the scaring, not you! GET OUT OF MY CLOSET!"
A puzzled pegasus who had somehow managed to slip inside the janitorial closet while it was supposed to be closed answered Drama with uncertainty. "Is something wrong?"
Looking on a short ways away, Leviathan pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, realizing what happened, she mentally added another mark as she tracked how many times she ended up exasparated by her friend's behavior.
...and she turns up in places where she has no business being...! THAT'S IT!
That's why her Cutie Mark was blinking! That's how she's able to damage my hardware without my frame stopping her! Cats have a reputation for slipping into places where they shouldn't be and being difficult to locate if they don't want to be found! What she's doing is taking this behavior to its logical extreme by tapping into her special talent to its fullest, letting her bypass any and all obstacles between her and her destination!
If nothing else, this is shaping up to be an excellent matchup. And here I thought it was going to be one-sided. Just why did I think that again? Hah!
Gray's turned to face me again, and her motion brings me back to reality. I have your number now, I address her in my thoughts as I aim my Javelin at her one-handed.
She doesn't bother wondering why I'm able to stay steady on my feet after what had happened, or why I'm starting to giggle. Instead she shoots forward, and this time she has her claws pointed directly at where my power generators are. Not a problem.
Instead of swinging the Javelin to defend, I sling the object that had been caught on my left hand straight at her. Good aim, good velocity---
With an audible "THOUMP", the toy plastic ring flies into Gray's face with enough force to ensnare her muzzle. As planned, this surprises her sufficiently that she goes cross-eyed and slows down before she can reach me.
And this makes her a perfect target for the roundhouse kick that follows. The blow belts her out across the pool and over the balcony seating. She recovers her senses and corrects her flight path before she can crash into the wall. Her shield shifts again, this time from yellow to red. One hit to go.
After a few moments of awkwardly trying to remove the ring from her muzzle without accidentally scratching her face, Gray gives up and flies over to Shining and Cadance. The latter acquiesces and magicks the ring off of her, tossing it back where it's supposed to go. Gray nods appreciatively...
And I pick that moment to dash-jump over the pool, swinging the Javelin at her. No fool, Gray wastes no time saying 'thanks' and instead brings her gauntlets to bear, deflecting my slash to the side. In the same motion she pivots and bucks, but all it does is shove me back about a foot on account of me being too far out for her strike to have much power. I love having a weapon with a long reach.
"One minute to go," Shining tells us as I land. "Make it quick."
Gray yawns, a glint of light reflecting off her fangs. "Ah... guess there's no helping it," she decides. "Playtime's over. Time to tango." In another whip-like motion, she slashes out at me---wait, why am I reading an energy spike from her gauntlet---?
My own question is answered by four arcs of silver-shaded magical energy that fly out from the claws. I spin the Javelin in a circle, dispersing the waves before they reach me---
And in that instant Gray is in my face, driving me back. Every strike is aimed at either my chest or head, and each time she slashes I can see silvery trails in the claws' wake. Something is telling me that getting hit directly even once by those gauntlets is a terrible idea.
Wow. When they said they were going to test me, they weren't kidding. She's just abandoned all forms of subtlety at this point: she's honestly fighting like she wants to see me dead.
Most of the strikes I'm forced to block or parry with the Javelin, and sparks fly each time I do. One slash that I'm not able to deflect requires me to bend my head back all the way to keep my face from being carved apart. Another one slips past the Javelin and catches me on my left wrist, reducing my guard on that arm to fragments. Gray's claws are flying at me swiftly and furiously, and one slip-up on my account's liable to end my quest in a flash. Time and time again I'm forced to step back just to get a bit of breathing room, nimbly moving around large water puddles, toys, and at least one life preserver that the tornado had scattered around.
...
My metaphorical heart is beating fast. I can feel it...
This rush of a life-or-death fight...! I haven't felt like this since the Temple of Ice! This is the sort of battle that makes me feel alive!
Down, girl. I don't see any red helmets or energy swords around here, do you?
Then why am I smiling? Why do I feel so ecstatic? Why am I laughing?
Because you're never truly satisfied unless you're fighting for your survival?
Stow that noise! I'm having fun here! This is recreation to me! This is my idea of a good time! And this is a match that I'm going to win!
Ha. That shut it up.
Seriously, though: I am going to win this. Gray's rapid-fire strikes have slowed down a little. She's starting to get tired, and I'm beginning to see opportunities to counterattack. I aim the Javelin at her and fire off another spearhead. She neatly evades the projectile and slashes at me again. I duck beneath the swipe, my hand brushing against something on the floor...
I seize both the opportunity and the net, flinging it at Gray one-handed. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't try to cut through it... guessing that's because damaging her alma mater's property doesn't sit right with her. Instead, a single flap of her wings takes her over the net's flight path. She raises one gauntlet to let fly with another projectile slash---
The spearhead curves back around, catches the net and yanks it back the way it came. Just as Gray's claws descend, the net flies into her from behind and snares her back legs, interrupting her attack and evoking a surprised yelp from her. Propelled by the spearhead, the net drags her around every which way until the projectile's power supply runs dry, at which point it plummets to the ground and leaves her entrapped.
Gray struggles for a bit to extract herself, finally pulling free...
"Poke."
...and flinches when I reach down and flick her in the forehead, having strolled up to her while she was floundering about (heh, "floundering", nice). The red shield flickers a few times, then fades away for good. The power readings I'm registering from Gray's weapons are dwindling down to nothing.
Okay, where did that come from? Either I'm going crazy, or my CPU's developed a sense of humor. Maybe some defragging and debugging are both in order tonight.
"And Leviathan's the winner with five seconds left," Shining announces, bringing an official end to the match. I go through the motions of deep breathing, bringing myself down from my high as he continues to speak. "Cut it pretty close walking up to her like that."
"How much of that could you see?" Cadance asks, blinking. "That last minute or so was a blur. It looked like Gray honestly wanted to destroy her."
I put the Javelin away and look down at the cat-like pegasus who had been my opponent. Sustaining that attack barrage for that long has her pretty winded, so I suppose I should speak for her until she catches her breath. "That was intentional," I explain. "From the start, this was meant to be a 'real test', in Princess Celestia's words. It was supposed to be an exhibition of my combat ability, a means of showing that I was everything I said I was in the newspaper. I suspect this is because she wanted to know how to counter my race if any malevolent Reploids ever followed me here." I shrug. "And I did tell Gray a few times not to underestimate me or hold back. Keep that in mind."
Cadance doesn't seem convinced. "Are you sure? You looked like you were enjoying yourself entirely too much for somepony who was almost ripped apart a dozen times over."
"Don't misunderstand, Princess," I start to say.
Said Princess interrupts me before I continue. "Please, just call me 'Cadance'. I'm supposed to be on vacation."
"Cadance, then." Really informal for royalty, isn't she? "I don't enjoy violence for the sake of violence. I don't go out of my way to pick fights with others, and I'm happy just living and letting live." I smile down at Gray. "What I do enjoy is a challenge. I like being put to the test against someone capable of winning against me. Sure, any of her attacks could have seriously damaged me, but I was able to overcome that. I'm okay with the fact that she was willing to try."
I can feel a bit of pressure on my arm: Gray is nuzzling my wrist where my arm guard used to be. She meets my gaze, concerned. "Are you okay, Fairy?" (Cadance settles down at this, trading smiles with Shining Armor.) "I went all out like you asked, but..."
To better answer Gray, I run a cursory scan of my systems while I pick up my armor fragments off the floor. Don't want to leave those where ponies can find them. "Tired yet functioning, obviously, but you dealt some substantial damage. My helmet's cracked from being tornado-driven into the floor, my Javelin's battered and chipped, your Phantom Slicer cut off my Ice Manipulation---"
"Wait. 'Phantom Slicer'?"
"The attack that phased through me."
Confused ponies are cute. "You actually name attacks where you're from?"
And I imagine confused Reploids are cute too, from their perspective. "You don't?"
Shining Armor starts chuckling, and I can hear a quiet snort that suggests Cadance isn't too far behind. I'd better get back on track. "Erm... anyway, I can't control ice anymore because of that, my left arm guard is scrap, and there's some lingering pain in both my face and back. It's going to take about three or four days to fix everything." I set my auto-repair to work on fixing my internal connections as I finish my report.
"Actually... you might not need to do that yourself."
My head jerks up at the balcony. ...What? "Mind speaking up? I'm not sure if I heard you right, Captain."
"I said that you might not need to do that yourself," Shining repeats, flipping open his saddlebag and pulling something out of it. He chucks it at me with a call of "Catch!"
The object that lands in my free hand is... a misshapen rock, of all things. If I had to describe its shape, I'd equate it to something like an eight-pointed star. It feels a bit hot to the touch, like it had spent a few hours just sitting out in the sun. The coloration is a mix of red, orange and yellow hues that blend together seamlessly.
Gray lifts off the floor, hovering up to my hand to get a better view. "Oooh. Reddocite. Pretty."
"You recognize this, Gray?"
"Well, you've probably guessed by now that since Celestia chose me as her proxy, that means I've done some work for her in the past, right?" I nod, having figured as much. "Reddocite's rare enough that there's only one known deposit in Equestria, and mining of it is strictly regulated to prevent misuse. When pulverized, it can fix and repair any damaged substance in close proximity to it." She shakes her head. "It has no effect on living beings like ponies, so it's useless as a medicine. It's just for inorganic stuff. I've had to use it once or twice to keep any structural damage from being linked to me, and from there back to my squad mates."
Shining takes over. "What Gray didn't say is that it's also very expensive. Just one sample of Reddocite costs as much as any upper-class residence in Canterlot, so it's not widely circulated. Still, Princess Celestia anticipated that you would probably end up needing this, so she told me to bring it along. Technically you're not a biological being, so it should work on you."
'Magic rocks restore health'. Four words, and another entry in the list of 'Strange Sentences I've Uttered Since I Got Here'. Well... no harm in trying, I guess. "Does it just work on what it touches, or does it have some kind of radius?"
"It's the latter," Gray confirms. "Everything within about four meters around it. Short ranged, but thorough."
"Good." I walk to where she had slammed me into the floor with that tornado. "This will make cleanup a little easier."
I hadn't brought this up during the fight because I was too focused on overcoming my dizziness and dealing with Gray, but that impact had done more than just crack my helmet. It had also severely damaged the floor, cratering it and splintering most of the tiles. Leaving it as it was would result in the school administration and the R.P. breathing down our necks. It's best to fix this now so that we don't have to deal with any repercussions later.
Upon getting there, I give the Reddocite a light toss before spiking it into the ground. The ore shatters on impact, dissolving into nothingness. For a moment nothing happens---
Ooh. I never thought I'd say that being subjected to high heat was soothing, but here I am.
As I watch, the floor is actively fixing itself: the tiles are reforming and replacing themselves, the crater is gradually disappearing, and any debris are vanishing. Within ten seconds, the floor looks the same as it did ten minutes ago. Even any water within the radius is being shunted back into the pool.
As for me personally, I can see my arm guard's fragments flying out of my hand and piecing themselves together where they belong, becoming whole. In my inventory, the Frost Javelin's damage is reversing itself. Little nicks and scratches in my jumpsuit and synthskin that I hadn't noticed before are disappearing. A message is flashing in my HUD, telling me that the connection with my Ice Manipulation has been repaired. My face and back aren't hurting anymore. The minute amount of Energen I'd expended during the fight returns to where it had been at the beginning, my power output boosts itself back to 100%, and that energetic feeling I had when I left this morning returns. "Wow, that feels wonderful... Gray, is my helmet still cracked?"
"Not seeing anything wrong with it," she confirms.
My mind racks itself for comparisons to anything I'd seen before. Almost immediately, I find one in the form of Cyber-Elves. There were certain Elves that could sacrifice themselves to restore or add to a Reploid's vitality, or turn themselves into Reserve Tanks for the Reploid to use later for the same purpose. There were even some that could impact the world around them, though I don't recall any that could directly repair their surroundings on this scale. It might be a bit too soon to refer to Reddocite as the Elves' counterpart since this is the only sample I've encountered, but nothing else is coming to mind. Might as well stick with it until I can dredge up some other memory, provided one exists.
(Side note: the sacrificial part isn't strictly true anymore. The report on the 'Ciel System' wasn't the only thing the good doctor shared with Harpuia. She'd also offered a means for certain Cyber-Elves to be upgraded into 'Satellite' forms and be prevented from dying while still letting Reploids benefit from their abilities. Judging from the two that I saw orbiting Zero when we arrived to assist him, I'd say it worked out fine.)
Still, if there's anything that this bout succeeded in hammering home, it's this: Never. Underestimate. Magic. If there's only one mineral deposit with an exorbitantly high cost per shipment, then Reddocite can't be counted on to fix me every time I get in a scrap. I'll take it in this instance, but I have to be extra careful not to sustain damage like this again. And that means acquiring knowledge about magic that Drama Heart doesn't have the time to offer me, if only to minimize the chances of being caught off guard.
"The Reddocite works. That's good to see, and it's something else to add to the report," Shining notes. "If you don't mind, I've got some things I'd like to ask you about that I'd witnessed during the fight. Do you have some time?"
"Depends," I say, enjoying the sensation of the energy circulating through me. Desired caution or not, this still feels good. "Does anypony know how late the Manehattan Public Library is open?"
"10am to 8pm on weekdays, 9am to 3pm on weekends," Gray recites from memory.
"Then sure. I've got time." This will doubtlessly be the most informal debriefing I've ever been involved in, and Shining seems like the type of officer who saves the no-nonsense attitude for when it's needed the most. Part of me's curious as to what it's like to directly work for him...
But my thoughts are swayed from that as I take in the room's condition. There's large puddles of water everywhere, the pool toys are all over the place, and everything that had been hanging on the walls aside from the signs are much the same. "...Though I think I'll need to clean this up first."
"You do that." Gray turns and trots back towards the locker room. "I've got to grab a shower and get this chlorine off of---WHOA WHOA WHOA WHAAA~!"
Predictably, moving at a quick clip on wet tiles has consequences: Gray slips, flails about as she tried to find purchase but fails, and ultimately ends her struggle with her face pressed against the wall.
"'The Cat That Walks By Herself', ladies and gentlecolts," Shining mutters, smiling bemusedly.
"Gray, that sign said not to gallop in here!" Cadance calls out, somewhere between annoyed and amused. Closer to the latter; she's clearly suppressing a chuckle.
"I was trotting, not galloping!" Gray protests. "There's a difference!"
I walked around the perimeter and tapped any and all water that wasn't where it was supposed to be with the Javelin, using the liquid as material for mini-ice dragons instead of my own generators. One by one I directed each dragon back into the pool and let them dissolve there. Some of the water had gotten into the balcony seating, so I had to clean that up as well. From there, it was just a matter of putting everything else away.
Thinking about it, I'm a little surprised that the tornado hadn't caused more damage. I can tell you just by getting caught in it that it was equal to a low-end EF3 (you'd be surprised what you could learn by associating with Harpuia long enough). Yet, the walls and ceiling were fully intact. How much of that was pegasi being pegasi, and how much was physics packing its bags and going on vacation? Something else to let my viewers make the judgment call on.
Gray hadn't finished her own cleanup by the time I was done, so I sat down next to Shining and Cadance to wait for her. As the minutes passed, I engaged in conversation with them about what life was like in Canterlot compared to Manehattan. I learned that if I valued my sanity to never seek out a residence over there: apparently some of the unicorns with rank and prestige are jerks and snobs of the highest order, most notably Princess Celestia's own nephew. Shining even did an impression of him that I didn't think was real, but Cadance swears is 85% accurate: "I don't want that robot in here! I don't want to be turned into a machine! How would I enjoy my collection of fine teas that I never let anypony else try for fear that they would get their grubby hooves all over them? Oh, the horror!"
Yes. Enough said.
Cadance told me that there is a fair amount of prejudice and hatred towards me among those in the upper class and those who have Celestia's ear, but surprisingly less than there was when I granted Buried Lede's interview. Apparently one of Celestia's favorite musicians was present when I had that discussion (not an argument) with Gray over what my clothing was called. Her first day on the job, she took umbrage with somepony's belief that everything I'd told the newspaper had been pre-calculated to drop everypony's guard. "What sort of 'murder-happy robot' would take part in a vaudeville act with a random pony about their clothes? The lot of you should be ashamed of yourselves!" she was quoted as saying. She then went on to recite as much of my discussion as she recalled, and as a result a few ponies actually reconsidered their opinions, including one of Celestia's own aides.
Part of me thinks it shouldn't be that easy. The other part of me says not to look a gift horse in the mouth...
...Gift horse? Sigh... Well, I guess I had to use that one sooner or later.
Anyway, there's probably a few "murder-happy robots" out there somewhere that would try something like that just to yank everypony's chains. My detractors aren't too far off the mark if they're thinking like that. Still, it's nice to know that some of the mundane citizenry over there are in my corner.
Gray finally exited the locker room after Cadance was done with her account, completely dry with her coat and mane in order. In her teeth was the handle to an armored, sealed briefcase that lacked a discernible way to open it. When she said that it was used to store her gauntlets, we nodded and asked no further questions about it. If anypony wanted its contents, they'd better know how to phase through solid objects.
"So I'm going to ask these questions in order, starting with you," Shining begins the interview by addressing me. "At the start of the fight, you made what looked like a second jump in mid-air. Was this something you were keeping a secret from the local newspaper to keep potential enemies from finding out?"
I shake my head. "Actually, this was something I only found out I could do after that edition was published. At some point in my life, my blueprints and hardware were tampered with to keep me from being aware of what I'm supposed to be fully capable of. I have my suspicions as to the culprit, but without being able to conduct a full investigation I don't have solid proof. I've been chiseling away at the passwords protecting them since the discovery, and the first ability was unlocked last night."
"First?"
"Of eight, yes." I glance off to the side. "Though can I have a guarantee that you're not going to take this to the newspaper? I'd rather that this be kept off the record. You three and Drama Heart are the only ones that know about the finer details, and I feel it's a good idea that it stays that way."
"You have my word that this will stay strictly on a need-to-know basis," Shining promises entirely earnestly. That's the best I can probably get from him, considering his duties. "Cady, could you not...?"
"...tell everyone and their dog? I promise," Cadance agrees. "Gray?"
Gray nods, her expression as close to serious as I've ever seen without it dropping into full-blown anger. "I can keep secrets."
I smile thankfully, then begin my explanation. "The first one, as you've all seen, is..."
...
The next few minutes are spent giving the three a rundown on all eight abilties and what they're supposed to be used for. The second question Shining asks, however, isn't about any of those but is instead about something I've had since the day I was given the Javelin. "You being able to fire off the tip of your weapon as a rocket doesn't surprise me. What I'd really like to know is how you can create replacements for it that quickly. It's not like there's extra space in the weapon to store more."
Gray perks up at this. "Yeah. I wasn't thinking about it at the time, but that does seem weird. How do you do that?"
"That's something you'd have to ask whoever it was that created the weapon," I say, shrugging. "It was worked on long before I was ever conceptualized, let alone built. The homing projectiles are best used underwater, but they have their uses in the air, too." I nod at Gray. "And it means I still have a mid-range attack if something happens to my Ice Manipulation."
"That's what I ended up cutting? I was hoping I'd hit a coolant line," Gray says wonderingly. Cadance flinches at how casual her words sounded. "I was curious why you didn't use any more ice the rest of the fight. That answers that."
"How many of those projectiles can you keep in the air at once?" Shining continues.
That warrants a frown. "Just up to three. I tried spawning more once, but it wouldn't let me. The notes I was given on the weapon said something about 'hardware limitations' and 'too many sprites'. I couldn't make sense of it and its designer was long dead by the time I entered the picture, so finally I gave up, accepted that it could create multiples in the first place, and moved on."
The looks that the three of them are trading each other are the same ones I had when I first learned of that flaw. "Let's just move on to the next question, Shining," Cadance decides as she shakes off her confusion.
"Yeah. Good idea." The Captain's puzzlement is gone by the time he's done with his next inquiry. "I was watching your reactions to Gray's Phantom Slicer---"
"Still can't get over the fact that she names her attacks," Gray mutters.
Shining ignores her. "---and you seemed to piece together how she could do that quicker than expected. If there was anything about that in the Minutes, I don't think it was ever elaborated on."
For the sake of proving a point, I remove my helmet and place it on the bench next to me. Cadance is smiling at me, and I don't get why. "How familiar are you with computers, Captain?"
"There are a few in operation, but they're reserved strictly for research and analysis," he explains. "Large, very bulky and heavy. Just one of them is about as big as any classroom here, and they take some time to handle complex calculations. I hear the setup period's a drag."
I was under the assumption that they would only be familiar with computers by way of comic books and the like. It's nowhere close to home computing, but that's still better than I expected. "Give it time. Centuries from now, this world might end up having computers that can think as fast as any pony. Of course, the key word there is 'might' due to differing technological paths, but that's irrelevant. My point is that my creators were at the same stage you're currently at a long time ago. But as the decades and centuries passed, they were able to invent computers that are small and capable enough..." I tap my forehead. "...to function as brains all their own."
"Like in 'Millions Umbra'," Gray comments, the tip of her tail twitching. "Neat."
...Okay, that's a derailment. "What's that, now?"
"First horror story I ever read," she explains. "The central character's basically a robot stallion who was created to think like a pony. It didn't straight-up call him a 'robot', but all the similarities are still there. He was made of metal and everything, without any magic of his own."
Not as much of a derailment as I expected. Very well. "You get what I'm talking about, then. Good. As I've made clear in the past, Reploids in general were made to be able to make conscious decisions and think like our creators. And for all of us, that's how we'd like to think most of the time. But if you're involved in a battle that requires hair-trigger timing and split-second decisions, where every movement can mean the difference between life and death, you have to think quickly. You have to possess laser-like focus, not the addled mind of an organic lifeform.
"If ponies here are anything like my creators, they should be capable of burning through many trillions of calculations a second at their peak. The problem is that they don't have the means of consciously comprehending everything the brain does. They're completely blind to how much work goes on behind an average thought process. They decide what to have for breakfast in the morning, go 'okay, neat', and devote nothing else to it. A random carriage goes by, they register that image in their minds, and then it's forgotten about a second later. Reploids are the opposite: our brain capacity is a mere fraction of ponykind's, but we know everything that runs through our CPUs. If we so choose, we can shut out everything irrelevant, devote all of our attention to a single topic (maybe two at most), and arrive at the answer that makes the most sense to us within seconds regardless of the subject. We simply have that much focus to spare."
Maybe that was a bit too much like boasting? They all have their jaws hanging open. Gray's the first to get her act together. "Wow," she breathes. "All that, and you still faceplanted into a door."
I tighten my grip on the edge of the bench to keep from falling off. I've heard of facefaults, and I don't want to experience one today. Or ever. "I said 'if we so choose', Gray!" I protest indignantly, noting that her comment managed to jar Shining and Cadance back to their senses. "It's not something we do all the time! If I had a bit for every time I did something without thinking, I could probably buy your lunch everyday for a week!" I sigh, forcing myself to calm down. "And a lot of it depends on the state of mind combined with what's going on. I feel that if your tornado hadn't dazed me, or if we'd been fighting outside the pool the whole time, I would've had the presence of mind to evade your Slicer."
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that your personality factors into it too," Cadance brings up.
"Bingo, Princess," I acknowledge her. "That can get in the way sometimes. My fellow Guardian Fefnir..." I roll my eyes. "He was like a brother to me, but he was as hotheaded as his element. Outside of combat affairs, he could be reasoned with like any rational being. In battle, he was a shoot-first-ask-questions-never kind of guy. Really easy to rile up, and he takes fighting more seriously than I do. He's capable of the same thought processes I am, but he prefers to think for the moment instead of the future. A real combat nerd."
"May I interrupt with a side question?" Gray asks. She gets a nod from Shining Armor before continuing speaking. "This Fefnir fellow. You're saying he was hotheaded, so I'm guessing fire?"
"Yes. And with that in mind, I think you would have had a higher chance of beating him than me if he'd been the one to appear here."
"What do you mean?"
"Even assuming you fought with the same rules--you get three hits, he keeps going until he wins or loses, and the duel takes place someplace where he'd have an advantage--he'd be worse off. After all, his biggest weakness was something your race is naturally capable of harnessing, Gray. And since none of his ranged attacks were capable of homing... well, you're smart. Do the math."
The three of them are silent for a time as they contemplate this. "I overheard you telling Drama once this past week that you have issues with fire," Gray comments. "While lightning you shrug off like a day at the park. So I'm guessing if you and Fefnir fought, he'd win more times than not. Whereas he's poor at dealing with excess electricity and lightning."
"He's won more than his fair share of spars against me," I confirm. "Knowing how he fights wasn't enough to give me an edge. Even getting him underwater isn't a guarantee."
"Reading into this, you have a third Guardian who harnesses electricity but is weak to ice?" asks Cadance. "That's a strange little elemental triangle you have going there."
Come to think of it... "It is, now that you mention it. Huh."
"You said before that you were one of Four," Shining cuts in. "Did your fourth have any particular connection to this 'triangle'?"
"Not in the sense that he was strong or weak against a particular element," I answer, thinking about Phantom. "He was the most... I don't know if 'normal' is the right word here. Whenever we sparred, he was roughly equal to all of us. Any given fight against him, the chances of winning or losing were even."
"Non-elemental?" Cadance suggests.
"Sure, that works. In regards to the analysis you noticed, Captain, did that answer your question?"
Shining smiles. "And then some, thank you. That's everything I needed from you, so you're free to go if you like. Cadance and I still have some things we need to talk to Gray about."
Sounds like a good idea. I re-don my helmet and start to stand up---
...
...Blast it, I sigh internally. Curse my curiosity. There's too many things about her that I'm wondering about.
"Is something wrong, Leviathan?" the Captain wonders, watching as I re-take my seat.
"This might sound like a silly question, but is anything you have to discuss with her supposed to be confidential or otherwise private? I'm feeling like I should be staying here."
"Don't worry. We'll tell you if we have to broach a sensitive topic," Shining assures me. "You're curious about her, right?"
"...Yes."
"Well, that makes two of us. Stick around for a bit." He turns away from me, setting his sights on my recent opponent. "On the tornado you whipped up, Gray. Have you ever undergone an official wingpower test?"
Gray's wings flare outward for a few moments. "Several times. The most recent one was a year before my accident. Rated a 13.4 at the time. I let myself go after I got married, so I don't know where I stand now."
"I'm guessing that's meant to measure the strength of the pegasus's wings?" I ask.
"Both that and how fast they're able to fly," Shining responds. "The higher it is, the better physical shape they're in. In general, if your wingpower is thirteen or higher, it means you're among the fittest and quickest that Equestria can offer. It's tough to have one without the other."
Hmm. "In terms of speed, how does wingpower measure up?"
"If I recall, one unit of wingpower is about 19.5 miles per hour," Cadance explains. "But the tests aren't meant to measure a pegasus' absolute top speed. It's more like what they're able to achieve when they put in a bit of effort. If they measured their best, you'd probably be seeing wingpower of at least 35 on average."
Some quick math reveals what that number is. "Pretty close to the speed of sound. That's about how fast I figure Gray to be at her peak."
I just can't get over how fascinating eyebrows can be sometimes. "How do you figure?" Gray asks skeptically. "Was it just from watching me fly during the duel? I don't feel I was anywhere near that quick."
"No, it was from the day we met."
This gives Gray some pause. "Why, what happened back then?"
"Remember when I threw Drama across the street to keep that lightning from hitting her?" I reminded her. "I saw you swooping in to cushion her landing, and I was able to track you in that moment. Given local conditions, I think you could've hit the sound barrier if you had a few more seconds to work with." I'd mused at the time that her speed would impress Harpuia, and I still believe that. Some pretty good acceleration, too.
Pretty sure magic's messing up the equation somewhere, though. Those were some incredibly tight turns Gray was making to create that tornado, never mind the one she pulled to rescue Drama. Realistically it shouldn't have happened without serious injury, but it wouldn't be the first time that this universe's physical laws made a mockery of mine.
Gray's finding the balcony railing more fascinating than her eyebrows. "I wasn't trying to achieve anything flashy. I was just trying to save a friend from getting hurt."
One of Cadance's hooves rests over Gray's as she speaks. "And that's all you really need sometimes to motivate yourself. Your love for your friends and family is a very precious thing. Don't ever lose it."
"Don't teach Coloratura how to sing," Gray retorts without any heat, one corner of her mouth tilting up. "I've always known where my priorities lie, Princess. I don't need my Cutie Mark to tell me that. Don't need it to tell me that you're in the same boat that I am, either."
Both Shining and Cadance blush at this---what? "You're not wrong," Cadance admits a bit awkwardly.
"Is there something I'm missing?" I ask. "How'd we get from flight speed to that?"
"Not much of a romantic, Fairy?" Gray jokes.
A mild huff. "You're the one who keeps accusing me of having a murder-crush on Zero. You tell me."
Shining clears his throat. "Let's get back on topic. Leviathan, do you have any further questions for Gray on the subject of wingpower?"
Let's see... "Not on that specifically, but I can link that with something we brought up earlier. Is weather manipulation something that all pegasi can do, or do you need specialized training to pull off phenomena like pinpoint lightning strikes?"
"'How often' and 'when' you train varies depending on where in Equestria, but if you're a pegasus, you're typically expected to learn at least the basics of weather control even if you don't intend to make it your career," Gray clarifies. "Unless you have some sort of physical ailment that keeps you from flying, you may be needed to help out in some way down the line, so it helps to be prepared. You were born a pegasus, weren't you, Princess?"
"Yes, and I went through the same instructions," Cadance confirms. "Though creating a tornado on a whim typically isn't something I set out to do."
A bit distracting, but level with me here. She was born a pegasus? Then how did she get that horn? Is it possible for ponies to gain extra appendages over time? Would that come about via spontaneous mutation, or some sort of twisted magic-centric growth cycle?
"I picked up the basics as part of a required course in my fillyhood, and some more advanced stuff as an elective here at Bronclyn High before I decided on my career path," Gray continues. "I went through specialized training after I joined the Police, though for the sake of security I'd rather not discuss the specifics of that training. I will say that's where I learned to use tornadoes to drop bulky enemies on their heads and set them up for a finishing blow."
What kind of Police force that operates almost entirely in urban environments teaches their officers to use natural disasters to subdue lawbreakers? There's something deeper there than that, but I'm guessing that falls under "you don't need to know". Fair enough. You've got to keep at least some secrets, right?
Shining takes my silence as an excuse to continue. "I think we've gotten all we can from that. Moving on, what's the story with those gauntlets? I realize they fit in with the whole 'cat' motif, but I've never seen that type of weapon used in law enforcement."
"I was trained with those police batons, but I always found them awkward to use at best." I imagine I would too, if I had to wield them with my teeth. "My assigned partner and I went to our direct superiors and explained the problem, and after some discussion they agreed to have these specially-made for me. Thing is, there aren't any real good blacksmiths in Manehattan, so I had to commission these from the Royal Guard's smithy in Canterlot. Gave up a month's salary to pay for them, but they've proven that they're worth every bit since."
"Steel of some variety?" I inquire. "They'd have to be, in order to damage the Javelin in any way."
"Partially. There's steel like you said, but we've got silver and moonstone in there, too." Gray fishes one of her gauntlets out of the briefcase. Watching her do that is just... weird. Her leg's not even turning invisible as it happens like you'd expect: it's just a solid object passing through another solid object without damaging it. It's a bit uncanny, and the slight glowing of her Mark just adds to it. Shining and Cadance's faces are indications that they agree with me. "There's three enchantments on this, one for each substance. The first grants it some extra durability and keeps it from getting rusted or chipped. The second magnifies the claws' sharpness to the point of letting me fire off projectiles at will. And the third protects it from magnetism."
'Amused smirk' is go. "I take it that magnets were a common problem in your line of work?"
Gray puts the gauntlet back, chuckling. "You have no idea. One year the Police ran a contest to keep morale up; I took part and received a ticket to one of Celestia's galas as a prize. While I was there, this helmeted loon turned up from out of nowhere to cause trouble. He called himself, and I quote, 'the master of magnet'. One second I was charging him, the next I was waking up with my face in the punch bowl wondering if I'd somehow gotten drunk. After that incident, I went to the smithy and asked for that last enchantment to make sure it didn't happen again. Sure enough, there were some chumps in the following years who thought to try using magnets to keep me off-balance." She looks up at the ceiling, a hoof on her chin. "I still wonder what happened to that loon. Nopony heard anything from him again after that incident, at least according to the rumor mill."
"That experience had to have been embarassing," Cadance comments with a hint of sympathy.
Gray shrugs. "Not really. The fruit punch was delicious. What was embarassing was that I thought I was seeing magnets everywhere the rest of the evening. Alas, they were mistakes, not magnets."
...It feels like every serious conversation I have with this pony has to have some kind of joke I don't understand. No wonder she gets along fine with Drama. And why did she have her claws if she was attending a party? "Gray..."
And lo and behold, an innocent face. "What?"
"...Never mind. The gist of what you're saying is that they're reliable, tricked out, and comfortable, correct?"
"Yes, essentially. I could have simplified it, but I've been to a few debriefings in my time. The details matter."
"Though some of those details probably could be called into question..." Shining remarks under his breath. Cadance nudges him in response, though her half-closed eyes are telling me she's no less bothered. "...Right. Next question. Princess Celestia described you to me as an 'absolute beast in combat', and I went into this believing that she was talking about your combat skill. From everything I've seen since I arrived, I've determined that she was talking more about your 'feline' habits. What drove you to start acting like that? How does behaving like a cat get you a Cutie Mark?"
Gray lays down on her seat, propping her head on her hooves. Outwardly she's not showing much emotion, but a few swishes of her tail are giving away her irritation. "That's as big a mystery to me as it is to you."
The three of us frown at Gray's comment. "How could you not know that?" I ask. "This theme of yours... I was assuming that this was something you'd just decided to do one day, and you ended up receiving your Mark by fully immersing yourself in the role. How could you not know when all of this started?"
Frustration. Exhaustion. The world getting brighter. A flurry of leaves on the wind.
Freedom. Elation, a family reunited. Confusion, then a shrug.
"I just don't know," Gray tells us, shaking her head. "I've always felt that everything I've done was what I should've done. From kindergarten on, I've been seeing the world through a specific lens that I can't describe. All this time, I've been living my life as my whims dictate. Other ponies tell me that my behavior is off-kilter, and I've tried to keep that reined in... but it always overcame me without it trying, and eventually I decided not to struggle against it anymore." She's looking at us, but I'm getting the feeling she's not really looking at us, if you understand what I'm trying to say. "I can't give an answer for why I act the way I do, why I'm as strange as I seem to others, or why I've just gone with the flow for most of my life. All I know is that it just seems right."
Translation: there's something wrong with her mentally. Can't think of any other reason why a representative from a herbivorous species would behave like a carnivore, unless it was all done for grins and giggles. "Have you ever seen a doctor about it?" I inquire.
"A few times," she admits. "I'm banned from one office because I wouldn't stop falling asleep on their couches mid-appointment. The second one eventually told me not to come back unless I was convinced that I 'wanted to improve'. The third decided that I was taking an interest in their office aquarium for all the wrong reasons."
"...That last one doesn't seem like they had a proper reason to block you," Cadance tentatively brings up.
"I think what convinced them that I was beyond hope was when I went up to their secretary and asked for some mayonnaise."
"Okay, never mind!" Cadance hastily backpedals. Yeah, I think that's where I'm drawing the line, too.
Gray chuckles again. "Just as well. I've always been more partial to tuna."
"Right..." Shining shakes his head. "Well, I do have one more questions..." He frowns at me, and his voice becomes apologetic. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave for this. It's for the Crown and its representatives' ears only."
About time. "Just as well. I have to get to the library anyway." I stand up, going through the motions of stretching my arms out in front of me. "Nice meeting you both, Captain, Cadance. If you ever see that musician, could you tell her I said thanks for her support?"
"Sure," Cadance agrees. "I can do that."
"Thanks for your time, Leviathan." Shining offers his hoof, and I accept it with a fistbump. "Hope you find something over there you can use."
He doesn't sound very hopeful, but I'm going there anyway. I don't have anything to lose by doing so. "You're welcome."
"Tell the foals and Drama that I'll be back at the Pyre after lunch, would ya?" Gray requests.
"Certainly. Which way is it to the library from here, by the way...?"
...
Leaving the school the same way I entered, I decide that even if the debriefing left me with more questions than answers, it's still been a good morning thus far. The only way it could be better would be if the answer to my dilemma appeared out of thin air, though that's as likely to happen as Dr. Weil becoming a humanitarian.
I've taken part in a friendly competition to see how I stack up against the locals, I had a nice swim, and I had a great fight. The fight in particular was especially satisfying; it gave me the same sort of rush I got whenever I fought Zero. In at least one way, however, I'd rank this one higher than any of those. Do you want to know why?
It's because there was nothing at stake.
Shining Armor watched as Leviathan departed, continuing to stay quiet for a full minute after she was gone. It was only after he was completely positive that she wouldn't be able to listen in that he returned his attention to Gray Ghost. "Now, then. Were you aware that you're pushing the envelope where your special talent is concerned?"
Gray's eyebrows furrowed. "In what regard, Captain?"
"If Twily were here, she would probably give a big lecture as to how magic has its own set of rules, that they're expected to be followed. One typically doesn't expect a pony to be able to break those rules the way you did. Cats might be slippery, but they aren't that slippery. I don't own any, and even I know that."
"Nice observation..." Gray stifled a yawn, then turned to stare longingly at the patch of sunlight that was no longer situated over the diving board. "Though it's off just a little. It's not really breaking the rules, just exercising them in a different way. If I were trying to break the rules, there's no way that I would be able to do what I do."
"What's this 'different way' you're talking about?" Cadance wanted to know.
Gray took a moment to clear her throat. "...Excuse me. When I was younger and putting my abilities through their paces, I discovered that a lot of them are contingent on my physical health if I want to use them actively. The weaker I am, the less likely they are to work. I can guarantee you there's no way I would be able to get the Phantom Slicer to cooperate if I were at, say, my youngest child's level of strength."
"Could you give me an example of a more 'passive' ability of yours?" the alicorn asked. “For a frame of reference?”
"My sixteen-hour sleep cycle. If I don't have to work, then I rest as much as I can."
"...I think I've been at a loss for words more times in the past half hour than I have in the past half year," Shining muttered.
A fanged smile that was present one second and gone the next. "I get that a lot. Anyhoo, I've had a few ponies tell me when I was active that my techniques were 'broken'. After I worked out what that word meant in that context, I had to tell them that no, they weren't. The Slicer isn't something I can just do casually; it takes a fair amount of concentration and physical effort. If I'm distracted or tired, they start to falter. That's how I got in that accident at the bridge: I'd been fairly stressed that day due to a prank gone wrong and there were foals among the hostages, so I wasn't in the best of moods. I got mad and charged one of those responsible, and... well, to summarize, it ended with me struggling to stay afloat in salt water with a busted wing.”
A few seconds passed as everypony processed what they were told. “With that in mind, you sleeping when we arrived makes sense now,” Cadance remarked, the dots swiftly connecting. “Getting all the rest you need does wonders for your thought processes. If you can think clearly, then you aren't likely to waver when it comes time to act.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Gray unfurled one of her wings, examining it as if contemplating how to clean it. “Though that's not the end of it.” Closing her wing, she fixed the both of them with a deadly serious gaze. “When you get back to Canterlot and have one of your private meetings with the flake---”
“The 'flake'?” Shining and Cadance echoed in disbelief.
“...Well, she is,” Gray defended herself half-heartedly. She lowered her voice far enough that their ears only barely managed to pick up her words. “But anyway, when you do that, ask her about what the contents of File C184-GG-N0-RE-SPR1 had been. That flurry of slashes at the end? That wasn't my first idea. There was something else I could've used, but I decided it wasn't worth it. I don't care how much she wants me to take her seriously in a fight: I cannot in good conscience use that against a friend, and there's no way I can handle it in my condition even if I was willing.”
Shining took in her words and her eyes. “It's that serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack, Captain, and I mean that literally. Don't breathe a word about it to anypony. That goes for you too, Princess. What you learn from that file does not leave Celestia's chambers. Verbally or otherwise.”
Solemn nods from them both. “You have our word,” they promised.
Gray's demeanor shifted back to its more natural state, with her volume following suit. It was a fairly abrupt transition that took them both off guard. “Wow, you really are meant for each other if you can talk in unison like that. Been dating a while?”
Cadance recovered first and decided to field this one to keep Shining from stammering the entire time. “Well, yes. Since our school years, we...”
…
With the most serious stuff out of the way, the three of them engaged in lighthearted conversation for a few more minutes. Gray tried to talk the two of them into visiting her apartment after she got off work, all the better to meet the whole family at once. She succeeded with Cadance, but Shining begged off while citing the need to return to Canterlot and deliver his report to Celestia. With that they went their own ways: Shining to return the school keys and get to the train station on time, Cadance to offer income to the city's tourism industry, and Gray to the Pyre (after making sure first to remove any remaining evidence that the four of them had been present, then to return the briefcase to its hiding place).
On her return trip, Gray decided that the sensation she had been experiencing since the fight ended was regret. For fifteen years she was content to laze about and take care of her children, her glory days--such as they were, considering S.M.I.L.E.'s clandestine activities--far behind her. She had promised herself when she had married Ocean Guard that she would never fight again. She did not want to get involved in another situation where she would be required to use that technique, as not only would it require her to kill, but it would put her own life at risk as well. She did not want to take another life while her children were alive, be it someone else's, or...
When she said that she was as “serious as a heart attack”, she wasn't referring to the Captain or the Princess. Nor was she talking about Leviathan and her power generators. In all reality, she was talking about herself.
…
A glowing Javelin swinging down at her---
Evading an ice dragon that could swallow her whole---
Whipping up a tornado, taking care not to damage her surroundings---
Feeling her gauntlet's claws tear through something in passing---
Surprise when a plastic ring snared her snout---
Giving in to her instincts in a last ditch effort to overwhelm---
Listening to the ecstatic enjoyment of one who sought to challenge herself---
…
Gray smiled sadly, slowly shaking her head as she flew. If only we had met while I was still with the Police. I would have loved a chance to fight you again, Fairy Leviathan. At my core, testing you made my heart beat like you wouldn't believe. Unfortunately...
Mental images of her husband and children crossed her mind one after another. She recalled their patience, their kind words, and their love. Time changes a mare. I can't afford to let myself get drawn into this any more than I already have. I'm okay watching you on Celestia's orders, but no further than that. No amount of fighting is going to replace my biggest trophies: a husband and children who understand, and can put up with, little ol' me.
The cat who walks by herself has been fully tamed.
Caramel and Hazelnut Mocha, tired from a long day of sparring, putting up with their tutors, gaming, and walking among the common citizenry for publicity's sake, slept soundly in their beds.
Most of the tower's staff had gone to their own homes at the end of the business day. The cleaning ponies finished their work and left, locking up behind them. Only the security staff remained, continuing to do their jobs diligently.
Near each door, spherical green crystals embedded in the ceiling and encased in glass bathed the area with dim radiance. If anything tried to enter through the public entrances, the entire building would be placed on high alert.
However, the tower had its fair share of secrets. There was still one entrance that nopony except a select few individuals knew about. And it was through that entrance that seven individuals sneaked inside, making their way to a sealed-off meeting room near the top of the tower.
It was only when the last of them took their seats that any of them dared to speak.
"Y'know, the boss really needs to spring for some new lights." Male, with a standard Manehattan accent. Subject #1.
"I hear you. If it weren't for this gear, I couldn't see anything at all." Another male, this one with a tone straight out of Griffonstone. Subject #2.
"He's what, the richest in this city and he won't put new bulbs in? He can't be that cheap." Rough and raspy, but obviously female. Her voice sounded like it came from somewhere high above them. #3.
"Perhaps he gets some sort of perverse amusement from hearing his followers bang their knees on the furniture?" Female, possessing a delicate yet chilling voice. Possibly from Vanhoover. #4.
"You're thinking of that charming Candy Cane fellow." A feminine voice that made the others feel like it would snap at any moment. A pony most likely from Baltimare. #5.
"If by 'charming' you mean 'can't be outsmarted because he's a moron', then we're already having a good meeting." Female, with an exotically cheerful disposition. None of those present could tell where it originated. #6.
"I don't know. I find the darkness pretty soothing." Male, but another whose port-of-call was indeterminate, entirely due to how ordinary his voice sounded. #7.
"I'll grant you that," #3 commented. "It reminds me of home a little. Still doesn't make sense for him to leave it like this, though."
"It's completely unfair," #4 griped. "This is the first time that all of us have ever met in person, and we're not even allowed to see each others' faces?"
"I recognize the voice at least," #6 brought up. "You're that one figure skater. You do good work."
"Why, thank you. I've always thought so."
"Entirely unfamiliar, but I'm not in civilization often enough to easily identify it," #2 pondered. "And the gear I was provided doesn't let me see more of you beyond vague silhouettes. Not even I can see in total darkness."
"We're all in the same boat," #1 said. "No point in getting upset over it, is there? You're not the only one."
"I know, copper, I know. I'm not upset. Just annoyed."
"Anypony else think our summons seemed hurried?" #7 wondered. "I thought we weren't supposed to be brought together for at least another three or four years."
"Maybe that robot's got him panicked," #3 suggested. "Personally, I don't know why he's worried. I could swat that thing out of the way without using his gifts."
"Or he just wants to get rid of that maniac on the throne before it's too late for him?" #5 threw in. Her own words ended up distracting her. "Ooh, catchy. 'Maniac, maniac on the throne, and she's ruling like she's never ruled before'..."
"Hang on a sec," #6 interrupted. "We're still two stallions short. Where's our eighth and ninth?"
"You must not have read all of that paper," #1 lightly scolded her. "They've been sitting in cells at the Police department for weeks. Their trial's been scheduled to begin in five days."
"I caught a clipping on the breeze that talked about the robot, and that was it," #6 grumbled. "Sue me."
#2 chuckled eagerly. "I wonder what it would be like to hunt a robot. Seems like a whole new experience compared to my usual marks."
"I can't imagine anypony going to the trouble of building one, different world or no," #4 commented. "What sort of twisted mind would create something like that?"
"And if we disintegrated it again, would it go back to the world it came from?" #5 exclaimed eagerly. "That's what I want to know!"
"Rather twisted on your end, but it would pose a tidy solution to our problem," #6 said thoughtfully. "It gets to go home, we're free to carry out our ultimate mission. Everypony wins."
"Who said anything about sending it home?" #5 replied, voice cracking as if under pressure. "I want to destroy it! Oh-ho-ho-ho, burn, burn, burn...!"
"Leave the burning to me," #3 warned. "That's my job." She gestured in the general direction of #1. "And his, just a little."
"You seem pretty quiet," #2 commented to #7. "You charbroiling something in there?"
"I'm just a little nervous," #7 admitted. "This is the first time I've interacted with this many at once."
"We'll be working together towards a common goal from now on," #1 acknowledged him. "Think you can get used to it?"
"I... yeah. Yes, I can."
"Same here," #3 agreed. "I work best alone, but teaming up now and then never hurts."
"Glad to hear it," a voice unfamiliar to all but one of them spoke, cutting off all conversation. A door at the opposite end of the room slid open, admitting an unknown party before closing again. "Our mutual master wants all of us to be on the same page before his plan is set into motion."
"Ignition, mah stallion!" #6 crowed. "How've you been? You still cutting up dance floors?"
"With hedge clippers," the new arrival answered dryly, not amused at the idea of being anypony's stallion. "Cocoa Mocha himself will not be in attendance tonight, as his health has taken a turn for the worse. He's held out as long as he can, but our best estimate is that he has four days to live before his will passes on. As such, I will be sitting in for him."
"We're not going to be left leaderless, are we?" #4 inquired. "I joined him because he had some good ideas that I wanted to see through. I'm going to be very disappointed if we are left out in the cold."
"Mr. Mocha has a contingency in place for such a situation," Ignition promised. "In the event of his death, a pre-selected individual will approach one of you and recite a specific code phrase. Once the position is confirmed, any orders from said individual are to be treated as if Mr. Mocha himself were giving them. I will be transferring my loyalties alongside you."
"What is this phrase?" #1 asked.
Ignition took a deep breath, then answered his question via a string of words that lasted for a solid ten seconds. The phrase twisted and turned every which way, leaving the lot of them bewildered at what they'd just heard.
"Sooo... was that supposed to be a password or a spaghetti farm explosion?" #6 uttered, nonplussed.
"Abstract art," #5 whispered. "It's so..." She sniffed. "...beautiful!"
"It's more messed up than an unraveled Hearths Warming sweater," #2 deadpanned, "except the sweater can actually be disentangled and sewn back together."
"To sate your curiosity, that's a dialect that was old when Starswirl the Bearded was alive," Ignition clarified for them. "I'd have been surprised if any of you understood it. Loosely translated---very loosely translated---it means: 'A star falls, and the land takes its place. The great equalizers bring balance to the world. One form, one rule, one throne.'"
#3 whistled. "Mocha is really not being subtle about his opinion of the solar alicorn, is he?"
"He has made it clear throughout his life that he hates the Princess and desires to see her ousted, though he has never told me why. The 'why' does not matter, just so long as all of us want her gone. If any of you have objections, leave your equipment here and depart the facility at once through the door behind me, and you will not be targeted so long as you don't interfere with our operations."
"She has been too lax," #1 growled without hesitation. "She sits in her precious mountain palace and lets the scum accumulate throughout Equestria! That ghost-cat-pony-whatever she is realized this too, else she never would have joined the Police!"
"She has greatly restricted the hunting I enjoy," #2 grunted. "I would like to regain that freedom. By force."
"All of those I know back home are too lazy to care that Celestia's control of the sun might slip one day," #3 snarled. "And those here in Manehattan are even worse. We need a method of utilizing the celestial bodies that won't risk our lives out of the blue, and I believe Mocha and his team are capable of offering it."
"It's entirely too selfish of her to hoard all of her majesty and not spread it around," #4 stated, casting her lot in with them. "Such greed is... unsightly."
#5's giggling had a few of them struggling not to arm themselves. "They say that an alicorn's horn can cure any disease," she claimed. "Will it, or will it not? Only one way to find out, heeheehee~!"
"One trip," #6 hissed. "One shopping trip goes wrong, and all of a sudden every Royal Guardspony in the world has it out for you! I saw the tag, so I know that refrigerator was only three bits. I don't care what they say! Police-colt over there is right. If she can't control her Guard, then we need somepony who will!"
"Celestia is too intimidating," #7 finished. "We need somepony who is not just powerful and authoritative, but can relate to the common being. Mocha's origins make me feel like he is that type of individual."
Ignition nodded. "Then you are all on board with this. Excellent." He approached the table and took his seat. "Next on the agenda is the gear you all were given. These are the end products of a task that has been carried out for centuries down Mr. Mocha's family line. Via the collection of--and experiments on--the shed scales of dragons..."
"Due in no small part to yours truly," #3 declared proudly.
"...we have succeeded in creating the ultimate personal defense," Ignition continued as if #3 hadn't spoken. "Near-complete and flexible body protection, capable of providing a powerful buffer against magic and matter alike. Each one has been especially enchanted at the labs to fit your unique abilities, and you are welcome to put them to the test so long as it is out of the public eye. In addition, in the unlikely event that your equipment is damaged, the belt on each suit comes equipped with a sample of Reddocite. Even for us this ore is very expensive, so do not feel that you have to break it out at the slightest provocation."
"Are there going to be any concerns with identification?" #7 asked. "I don't think any of these suits came with helmets."
"The only concern is whether or not the authorities are able to link you to Mr. Mocha or the Chocolate Mocha Beverage Corporation," Ignition told him. "Few, if any, would believe that our leader has the resources or the connections to staff an R&D department devoted entirely to magitech. All the same, do not take that chance. If you are pressed into identifying yourselves, give your names and nothing more."
"I'm not sure if I'm completely onboard with my face being visible," #4 groused. "I'm too well-known. I don't want Celestia for a ruler, but I don't want my career to go down in flames, either."
"If it bothers you that much, just wear a mask," #2 stated. "The most basic way of hiding your face there is."
"Too fragile for what will be a violent coup," Ignition countered. "There wouldn't be any point in most cases. Unfortunately, the arrival of an entirely unexpected third party has forced our hooves. Had we the time, we would have completed helmets set aside for all of you. As things stand, only our missing representatives have the complete set ready for them. For those of you uncomfortable with being known, take any steps towards concealing your identity as you see fit."
"Speaking of those two," #6 asked, "are we going to leave them at the mercy of the authorities? They're as much a part of this scheme as we are."
"No. And that brings us to your first assignment. #1-2 and #4-7, tomorrow evening at 2015 hours, you will strike at six different points around Manehattan and its vicinity." A glowing green outline of the city, as well as information on the locations they were to hit, plastered itself against a wall; those facing away from it turned to look. "If you're able to obtain what is stored there, terrific, but those are secondary objectives at best. Your primary mission will be to draw as much of the Royal Police to your positions as you feasibly can. Be attention-grabbing, and once their eyes are on you, make yourself as difficult to catch as possible."
"Is that where I come in?"
Ignition nodded at #3. "Yes. Bastion and Iron Gates are in separate cells near the back of the R.P. station... as a side note, thank you for that information, #1." Another outline opposite of the city's appeared, this one a floor plan of the area where #8 and #9 were located. "Once your cohorts have drawn as much attention as they can, launch your attack. The skies will be clear and the Wonderbolts won't be anywhere near the city, so you should have no problems reaching your destination. Get in, grab our agents, and get out. Once you are clear, the rest of you will retreat and make your way back here without being seen."
#3 confirmed the order and sat back, satisfied. Most of the remaining agents followed suit. "And what of the robot?" #5 inquired eagerly. "Can we rip it apart if it confronts us? Please say yes, please say yes!"
"No."
#5 sank in her seat, disappointed. "Aw, crudbunny."
#6 perked up in mild interest. "Oh, you say that too."
"Our priority at the moment is to rescue your fellow agents," Ignition reminded her, "not to let yourself be caught up in flights of fancy. Mr. Mocha has a diversion in mind for our resident alien, and it'll be the perfect time to test our drones out in the field. If Leviathan is a match for them, then we will deploy you as we see fit. But until that time, we don't want any of you taking action against her."
"And what of the Ghost?" #1 brought up. "Retired family mare or not, she is still a credible threat to Mr. Mocha's plans. If she gets involved, everything we've worked for will go down in flames."
Ignition snorted softly. "We would have thought it obvious. You have the data from her final case. You know her vulnerabilities. If the little housepet decides to actively menace us... kill her."
"So we can engage the Ghost if we meet her, but stay away from the robot," #7 said. "Am I only one who thinks the order is backwards? Isn't the robot supposed to be the bigger threat? I thought that was why we were summoned here to begin with."
For the first time since his reaction to #6's greeting, Ignition allowed his true mood to show through his amusement. "Mr. Mocha believes that Leviathan was being a little too honest with the city's citizens. We know her strengths and her weaknesses because of that interview. As long as you enter the field with the right tools for exploiting those weaknesses, we can destroy her long before she could ever pose a serious threat." The amusement left him. "In contrast, we are convinced that the Ghost was hiding her full potential during her years with the Police. In a battle with the throne on the line, she's going to stop holding back and show what she can do. She can't be allowed to interfere with our operations under any circumstances. Take her off guard and take. Her. Out. That goes for all of you."
After a few moments to allow that to sink in, #7 nodded. "Yes, sir. Understood."
"Good. Continuing the discussion, here's the rest of what you need to know about your equipment..."
...
...
The meeting continued for twenty minutes after that, hammering out the last few details of the next evening's operation. Once it was adjourned, most of the group scattered around the top floors to get some sleep. #3 removed herself from the area and selected the entry tunnel they'd used to infiltrate the building, finding it much more spacious than anything her boss could offer.
Ignition wasn't being entirely truthful with them. In a world where Leviathan had never appeared, Cocoa Mocha wasn't so hasty as to summon his agents. The robot had them more on edge than they preferred admitting, but showing fear of the unknown was the last thing they wanted to do. So in a brief discussion with Cocoa earlier that day, he was instructed as to what to tell the agents if the topic was ever broached.
In the long run it would be the worst thing they could have told them, and not necessarily for the most obvious reasons.
...
...
In the tower's sub-basement, not far from where the future lay in wait, there was a heavy stone pillar. The few who had access to this area wondered why it was there in light of steel being heavily used in the tower's construction, but they didn't deem it important enough to bring it up with anypony. It was helping to support the ceiling and keep it from crashing down, and that was the most important thing to them.
What they didn't know was that it wasn't the pillar itself that was important, but what was concealed inside. A cylinder massing almost half of the pillar itself operated within, powered by enough magic to keep it running for years unattended. The cylinder was filled with a murky black liquid that not only completely blocked all attempts at determining what it was meant to hold, but also served as a nutrition-and-growth formula that could be absorbed into one's body through the skin.
And floating in the center of this liquid, deep asleep and completely unaware of the events that were to transpire in the coming weeks, was a helpless and tiny little filly.
In a small village somewhere in the more rural areas of Equestria, an elderly pony levitated a magnifying glass up to her eye, all the better to see the letter that had arrived at her door earlier that day. Her grandson had already read it to her--thrice--but she was still having trouble believing it. Maybe reading it herself would get rid of the thought that it was some sort of hoax.
To all surviving graduates of my School for Gifted Unicorns:
By now, word has probably reached you of the alien being currently residing in Manehattan. She has made known her desire to return home, and I believe her. However, as things stand we do not possess the means of sending her back to her world of origin.
I am looking for ponies who, whether through research or trial and error, possess esoteric knowledge of alternate forms of travel. It does not need to involve direct transportation: anything that involves realms outside of our own will do. Even if we are not able to piece together a method to send her home, what knowledge you can contribute will still help us immensely. Who knows? It might well be that we will be able to use it as a small part of the eventual solution.
In addition, if you so choose, you will be asked to assist with my researchers on-site in Canterlot to determine what is useful and what isn't. This is one of the biggest undertakings in recent history, and my staff can use all the help they can get. Time is of the essence.
Wishing you a pleasant day and a safe journey,
Princess Celestia
"...Nope," the unicorn muttered. "Still there."
"You're not going to ask me to read it again, are you?" her grandson asked.
The unicorn sighed, putting down the magnifying glass and rubbing her eyes. "That paper that came here all the way from that big city... I thought they were just telling a big story. Now the Princess herself is saying that it's all real?"
"Sure looks like it."
"And it's not just for me, but everypony who's been to that School and is still alive..." The unicorn squeezed her eyes shut, then slowly opened them. The clouded pupils regarded the letter once more. "They're taking this seriously. Cel-Cel wouldn't go to all this trouble for a joke."
The grandson smiled. "You never told me you knew the Princess personally."
"She showed up to teach at the odd class whenever her duties didn't get in the way. Nothing more." The unicorn turned to squint at a mirror. For a moment, her reflection wasn't that of a pale yellow-coated, rose quartz-maned pony in her eighties, but a vibrantly-colored lemon and cherry-hued mare with a spectacular figure. She blinked, and her mental image of the past was gone. She turned away with another sigh. "Too old to travel like I used to, can barely focus like I used to... why am I still contemplating going?"
"Because you've always been the type to help a total stranger, no matter who they were?"
The elder glared at her grandson. "Don't be so smart sometimes, you little runt."
The younger stallion chuckled unashamedly, long used to words like that coming from his only surviving grandparent. "Maybe it's time for you to get some sleep, grandma. You're up long past your usual time anyway. I'll wake up early and start getting some supplies together for the trip. Since we obviously can't take the train---"
"Hate those big wastes of space," she grumbled. "Hate them with a passionate train hate. Give me a good ol' wagon any day. Not so noisy."
"---we'll need to be well-prepared. It's going to take at least three days before we reach Canterlot, and that's without taking the weather into account."
"That goes for you too. You get yourself ready for bed too, you hear?" the unicorn ordered him, fumbling for her cane for a bit before finally wrapping one of her hooves around it. "If we're planning a journey, we're not going to make fools of ourselves. Don't need you staying up too late to walk tomorrow."
The stallion walked alongside her, offering his support patiently. "Yes, grandma."
Shining Armor's report on your duel has led me to conclude that I made the right decision in choosing to trust you. You kept yourself within the confines of the rules he set, you did your best to treat my proxy fairly, and your demonstrated capabilities matched those listed in the newspaper. I find it just as concerning as you that you are capable of more and hadn't been made aware of it until recently, but as I am not as familiar with what you've experienced as you are, I will leave matters in your hands.
I have recently sent notifications across Equestria in the hopes of gathering those who might be able to assist you. I expect that everypony who is inclined to accept will be present in Canterlot within a week's time, at which point the real fun begins. I don't need to put quotation marks around that word for you to hear them in your mind, do you?
Until we have a solution, I sadly can't allow you to visit here in person. Part of this is due to familiarity. You might slowly be turning into a common sight in Manehattan, but most of those in Canterlot are closed-minded and set in their ways. This is changing a little thanks to one of my own musicians, of all ponies, but it's not yet enough to prevent widespread panic. I don't want to risk any riots in the streets.
Another part of this is due to my personal student. She's a very precious pony to me, but there are times when her exuberance for learning magic can get somewhat tiring. My primary concern is that she'll look at you, see a golem instead of a machine, and hound you nonstop trying to work out every minuscule detail as to how you operate. I'm counting on her getting so wrapped up in her studies that she doesn't find out about you for now. Her own assistant's a bit more attentive and has already picked up some of the details from the grapevine, but I've asked him to keep it a secret until the time is right, and I trust him to keep his promise.
On a more casual note, I had a strange dream concerning my student recently. There was music I couldn't quite place in the background--something about "dancing to a joy division", whatever that is--and she was traveling through an endless corridor of realms linked by doors. I didn't get any negative vibes from it, so I doubt it really means anything. Still, the experience was off-kilter enough that I felt like sharing it.
In your last letter, you told me that you had been collecting a small pile of souvenirs to take home with you. If you have no objections, I would like to add to that collection. Please find enclosed a gift of one of my own feathers. Use it as you will, whether it's for decoration or some other purpose. If you choose to use it for writing, you may find it to be significantly more durable than the standard feather pens currently on the market. If you don't feel that such a use is viable, then simply carry it around with you and treat it as a memento when you return. You never know; it might just help you go places.
Here's to a successful venture.
Celestia
As I've been prone to doing, I've been dwelling on that last letter I'd received for the past few hours. It had materialized in a puff of green flame while I'd finished putting away my reading material at the library, and I counted myself fortunate that nopony had been looking my way at the time.
It doesn't take much to see the implications. Any dedicated research effort is going to take time to accomplish, no matter how on point everyone's minds are. The best case scenario here, I feel, is that it will take about six weeks--taking me right to my two-month preference. In contrast, the worst case scenario is that I'm here for anywhere from months to even years. Celestia was right when she closed her letter: all I can do now is hope.
I'm not too bothered that she doesn't want me in Canterlot right now. I feel more comfortable sticking around the area where I first arrived. This morning prior to my trip to the library, I visited a park that Gray's children recommended to me. There's a nice hoof-made river flowing through it, and I got to swim and lounge around for a bit.
Best. Feeling. In the world. I have my doubts that I'm going to get this sort of enjoyment in Canterlot, not unless they have something like this flowing through the city. Granted I know little about the place beyond it being the nation's capital, but I am aware it's mountain-based. And where there's mountains, there's bound to be dust and grit. Nooo, thank you.
Continuing, this is the second time Celestia has mentioned her student in her letters since I began my correspondence, though she's yet to give me a name. From what I've gathered, she's a checklist-loving, obsessive-compulsive, overreacting bookworm who goes to pieces when the slightest thing goes wrong. When it comes to magic, she's supposed to be a quick study and very intelligent, with the potential for greatness... if only she were a bit more social.
I was somewhat surprised when Celestia said that she was being withheld from the study group, but dwelling on it helps me make sense of it. I may have been built in a lab, but I'm no lab rat. I'm not exactly keen on being dissected, not unless it's by somepony I trust with my life. Once was ten times more than enough. Again, I know nothing of this student outside of what Celestia has told me, but her temperament obviously needs some serious work before I'd allow her anywhere near me.
Though on the face of it, that dream that was mentioned is chuckle-worthy. What sort of realms did the Princess see, I wonder?
And then there's that feather she sent me. She must have quite the impressive wingspan, because it's as long as my forearm. My scanner's registering a low magic reading coming from it; whatever it is, it's probably responsible for the thing's durability and flexibility.
I'd asked Drama last night if there was an official name for the type of pony that Celestia and Cadance matched. She told me what little she knew about alicorns, that being that they were combinations of all three types: unicorn magic, pegasus flight, and earth pony strength, on top of being the rarest ponies alive. With that in mind, some of that strength must have carried over into Celestia's wings. It's the only reason I can think of for why it feels more like a standard-issue stylus instead of a basic feather.
The feather's currently sitting in one of my spare inventory spaces. I didn't want to just leave it in my purse or coat, and I didn't have any means of treating it like a worn accessory. Just for grins I decided to see if I could stash it away, and it turned out to work just fine. My hypothesis is that something about its magic has my systems fooled into thinking that it's something I can use, like a Cyber-Elf or something. I don't have any facts to back that up, else I'd be calling it a theory. Oh, well; as long as it works.
...
I was able to say hello to an old acquaintance: I met up with Charity Kindheart while I was en route from the library to Drama's preferred grocery store. She had this far-off look in her eyes.
The day after that special edition of the Minutes had been published, Charity had finally located a buyer for her manor. While I was palling around with Gray and doing my research at the library yesterday, she was closing on the property and arranging to have what belongings she wanted to take shipped off to her new home.
When I found her, she was visiting some places she was familiar with and seeing the sights one last time before she departed on an overnight train. She'd already said good-bye to her closest associates, and the area around her eyes was a bit puffy—clear evidence, at least to me, that she'd been crying.
Oop---she's continued talking. Let me get back to the here and now.
“...spent the past forty years of my life in the business,” she's saying as I return my focus back to where it belongs. “Being able to satisfy my customers' preferences was enjoyable, but so was giving something back to them other than clothes. That's what sparked my desire to create the Midsummer Theater Revival: to not just share my love of the theater, but to help ponies regain their sense of cooperation and community. To bring them together.” She gestures at the street, though I'm guessing she has all of Bronclyn on the mind. “I'm worried that after I leave, they're going to lose those senses. I'm sure you've noticed that we're a very irregular species.”
I wince, though not out of any special concern. The term 'irregular' back home was sometimes seen as a synonym of 'Maverick'. “Speaking as an outsider, maybe trust that somepony will try to follow the example you set?”
“Oh, I certainly hope so, Fairy. I really do.” She pulls a pocket watch out of her snazzy little coat, frowning when she sees the time. “I have to get to the train station. Time just passes by too quickly...”
I'm not really sure why I'm doing this, but something prompts me to kneel down and draw Charity into a one-armed hug. “Don't I know it. You take care, alright? Go and be the best grandmother in the world.”
Charity accepts the hug with grace, nuzzling my chin briefly. “And you go and get yourself home, dear. Be the Guardian you were meant to be.”
“I will try. Thank you.”
…
Those were very strong words, I think to myself as I watch Charity ride away in a summoned taxi. Telling me to be the Guardian I was meant to be.
Taking my life experiences into account, I have a lot to work on. Being a better judge of what's right and wrong, for example. Not strictly relying on my gut instinct and charging in head-first. I don't want to repeat the mistakes that led to me being shunned by the only friend I'd ever had, and to me falling for the words of a fake. That would kill all the chances of me getting my old life back in a heartbeat.
…
As I leave the grocery store a little while later with a sack of foodstuffs, I wonder to myself if I knew what the word 'Guardian' truly means. Oh, I'm familiar with the textbook definition of the term: “Protector, or defender”. But that can't be all there is to it. I was defending Neo Arcadia from the Resistance when they had every right to resist. I was protecting the residents from scum... who were pushed into taking desperate measures by their own kind. We were believing 'them' over our own eyes, the 'them' in this case being Copy X. We were fed words, and we ate them like starved predators.
That's not protection. That's not defense. Clearly there's plenty that I'm not seeing. But on the flip side, there's plenty that I can: all I have to do is turn around.
...And I mean that in the literal sense, not just the figurative one. There's this strange humming noise that's been following me since I left the store. No use ignoring it anymore, so I might as well see what it is.
The thing is about a foot and a half in diameter and is shaped like an over-sized butterfly. An over-sized metallic butterfly: its tiny limbs are clearly made of steel. It has orange domes where its compound eyes would have been, and its abdomen and wings are painted a garish shade of pink. Don't get me wrong; I like pink as much as the next girl. I'm saying that this particular shade is offensive to my optics.
What is this? Is this somepony's pet project? If so, it's fairly creative in spite of---
...!
The humming noise intensifies, and... and bursts of orange light are shooting out of its eyes straight at me! I quickly drop down, hoping that nopony was close enough to hear my startled yelp. Both light bursts fly over my head, continuing down the street for another thirty meters before losing their cohesion and dissipating into particles. I can hear some surprised gasps and cries from those that are still out on the sidewalk.
Well, regardless of whether it's a pet project or not, I'm not going to say “that's fine, move ahead” to something that deliberately shot at me. My hand grabs at the whatever-it-is, preventing it from flying any further. I apply as much pressure as I can and channel my ice manipulation down through the cracks that are forming. Within seconds, the butterfly's lower half detonates in a miniature fireball as its structure becomes too warped to handle whatever's powering it. I ignore the shrapnel that pelts me, knowing that none of it can bypass my frame. I let what's left of its head drop to the ground, crushing it beneath my boot---
And nearly jump out of them as the last thing I thought I'd hear in this city roars at the top of its metaphorical lungs.
It doesn't take long to spot the tower of smoke that billows towards the sky. It's somewhere miles to the west, probably coming from one of the small suburbs on the mainland. What on earth happened over there? Who or what decided that blowing something up was a smart move?
My ears are assaulted by five more explosions, and I'm sure that these are all situated around Manehattan proper. Their sources appear to be coming from the far ends of the city, so at the very least neither Drama's theater nor Gray's apartment are being threatened. But what's going on? Why this, all of a sudden? And why is everypony poking their heads out of buildings when common sense should tell them to take cover?
"Look!" somepony calls out, pointing (so to speak) at something. More of those butterflies are approaching, making a beeline straight for me out of seemingly nowhere. A few blocks down the street, I can see a motley assortment of honest-to-goodness mechaniloids charging at full tilt down the street. One of them swats aside a taxi carriage that isn't quite able to get out of the way in time, ignoring the unhitched driver as he flees for his life.
Those ponies on the street panic and take off towards whatever safety they can, hollering and screaming. I stop one who seems vaguely familiar before he can get past me. "Hey!" I call out, raising my voice to make myself heard over his yelling. "Hey!"
"Get out of my way, robot! There's something attacking us!" the stallion shouts, trying to get past me.
I summon the Javelin to block his path, stopping him. "Hold it! Are you familiar with Salamandra's Pyre, by some chance?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"I need these groceries delivered there," I ordered him, my voice authoritative as I hold out said bag towards him. "Tell the owner I sent you, and that I'll be a little late getting back. Can you do that for me, please?"
The stallion anxiously looks back at the approaching butterflies, but nods hurriedly. "Pay me later?"
The pony takes the bag in his mouth and tosses it into the air; it lands on his back without a single item falling out. I step out of the way, and he bolts towards the distant Pyre. Excellent balance, I note idly.
I turn to face the incoming swarm, slinging my purse onto a nearby awning and trusting that it'll support the bag's weight. I don't know where all of these things came from, or who it was that somehow managed to mass-produce mechaniloids in this low-tech land. What I do know is that they're intent on coming after me, that anypony between us risks becoming collateral, and that there are innocents in danger. There will be no excuses if they aren't prevented from rampaging as they please. Theorizing can wait.
One by one, each butterfly opens fire. They're not trying to attack me all at once, which in theory would make them more difficult to predict, but it doesn't matter: I'm too fast for them regardless. Some deft spinning of the Javelin reduces the beams to nothing, followed closely by the drones themselves once I get in close. Some of them are able to recharge in time to fire again, but a single bound allows me to evade most of the blasts, get in close, and pulverize them. The one blast that catches the back of my hand doesn't leave more than a scratch behind, though that's more due to the angle instead of the power output.
This wave is pure cannon fodder, no question. My CPU's telling me that they have about the same level of durability as Neo Arcadia's mass-produced Pantheon Hunters. They'll be able to intimidate the panicky civilians here, but anypony with a decent level of training and courage will be able to survive encounters with them. Someone like me? Fo'get about it.
Yes, that was a Bronclyn accent I imitated. What of it?
I have some time before the next batch of enemies arrives, so I'm devoting a bit of focus to one of the shattered drones. There's unfamiliar carvings and letters stenciled on the underside of one of the fragments; admittedly I'm not an expert in the Equestrian language, but I don't recognize these as part of it. I'm not seeing an endoskeleton for support. In addition there isn't anything that would denote signal transfers, and the apparatus that allowed it to fire energy bolts is completely disconnected from anything that would give it power, so maybe...
Alright, they're not quite mechaniloids. There's a little crystal of some variety or other powering them instead of a system that I recognize. Magic... I can't bring myself to be surprised anymore. I remove the crystal, which is roughly the size of my thumb, and crush it in my hand to ensure that it won't be coming back.
Structural Integrity: 99.7% --> 100%.
...Interesting. These must be similiar to Reddocite in that they can reverse damage, too; the scratch I sustained is gone, and the fabric over where it had been is undamaged. I'm not experiencing any sort of energy replenishment, so maybe it's some kind of weaker derivative?
A whistle blows, putting a stop to my musing. "Hold it right there!"
I look up sharply at the order, ready to tell off whoever it was that addressed me in that manner... but I'm not the intended recipient. The wave of drones is stampeding across the intersection, and a Police officer seems intent on getting their attention at the cross street. That coloration looks familiar...
The officer's attempt works just a little bit too well. Some of the drones break off to pursue her, and she realizes that doing so just might have been a bad idea when they refuse to stop. "Never mind the 'hold it', never mind the 'hold it'!" she cries as she whirls and gallops away.
...Wait, I recognize that Cutie Mark. That's Coffee-and-Cream! Crazy pony's going to get herself killed by what she just did!...
Aaannnd it looks like what's left of that wave isn't going to let me help her out. "Not on my watch!" I declare as I charge at them.
There are more of these butterflies, but we've got two new types closing in. One appears to be... ...what's that animal, it's right on the tip of my tongue, I know I've heard the name somewhere... right, okay. It's shaped and painted like an armored honey badger. This one's low to the ground, fairly slow moving, and seems intent on mauling anything that gets into close range. One of them just left a long gouge in a lamppost just for the sake of it.
The other is more recognizably wolf-like, reminding me of the Garm line from back home. The difference is that these are a bit bigger and more jagged in shape, have glowing green eyes, and---
HIGH HEAT ADVISORY!
---can spit fire, thanks for the forewarning, sensors! If they're willing to pack heat, somepony out there has it out for me. That was too close!
I kick one of the wolves' mouths shut before it can fire again, leaving the flames with no place to exit and reducing it to molten slag via self-destruction. Sadly, I'm left with no choice but to dash out of the way before I can pull the same stunt on another. Keep moving, Levi. Don't let yourself stay in one place too long, or badger-baby's going to bite you. Not too keen on suffering that.
One of the butterflies fires at me again, barely grazing my left upper arm. The shot comes within a hair's breadth of hitting one of the badgers. Hmm, idea time. Why shouldn't I make things a little easier on myself?
Alright, zigzagging around the street a little bit here, giving them something to think about... though I don't think any of them have actual brains. I'm influencing their positioning little by little and taking advantage of their attack patterns. The butterflies hover every which way, halt, then fire. The honey badgers don't have any ranged attacks and instead go for close-range strikes. The wolves are a mix of both: they have the fireballs for mid-range, and claws when they get in close. The fire is what especially worries me, but if I play my cards right it'll cease to be an issue.
Okay, I've pretty much managed to get myself trapped. The butterflies on one side, and all other drones on the other. I'm beginning to direct energy into the Frost Javelin. Going to have to time this right. Those of you listening at home probably have a good idea of what I'm up to.
The butterflies and wolves charge their energies, then fire simultaneously. Well, not quite simultaneously. Some of the shots are mere tenths of a second apart, but eh... semantics. In any event, a dash-jump takes me out of the shots' path and off the side of a building... leaving the badgers and wolves to take almost all of the butterflies' blasts. Three-fourths of the wolves succumb to the attacks, detonating one by one. Less than half of the badgers are destroyed, showing how remarkably tanky they are. The butterflies are caught by the wolves' fireballs, torching and weakening them.
It's while all of them are trying to figure out what just happened that I drop down from above, stabbing the Javelin into the ground as I land. In the same motion, I release all of the energy that I'd just gotten done channeling. With a howl not too dissimilar from the wolves', an icy cold shockwave billows out in all directions, giving my attackers a taste of winter's cruelty. It only lasts a few short seconds, but it's too much for most of the drones to take; one by one their frames collapse on themselves, explode, or both. The badgers last longer thanks to their durability, but become immobile on account of the ice that's ensnared them, rendering them easy prey for the Javelin's blade.
I'd hate to live in a world where thermal expansion wasn't a thing.
The shockwave managed to put out a few fires that the wolves had accidentally started, but there's still several more places in danger of going up. Best to deal with those before I move on. A few more Charged Slashes should do the trick... ... ...and there. That should prevent any unexpected bonfires, or at least keep them at bay long enough for the residents to deal with them. I grab a few crystals from the drones' shattered wrecks, healing the minor damage I'd sustained with one of them and stashing the rest in my final inventory space.
Now to find the missing Officer.
I turn down the street that Coffee had been running away on. It doesn't take long to spot her as I run: she'd only made it a block and a half before the butterflies caught up with her. Credit where credit is due, in that she actually managed to destroy a few of them: the remains of her baton can be seen among the wreckage, and some of the debris looks flattened from a well-aimed buck. All the rest have converged on her, however, and she's tiring fast; it's only going to take one strike from these things to hospitalize or kill her. I direct more energy into the Javelin as I approach. "Officer!" I yell as I approach. "Jump away, now!"
Coffee doesn't waste time questioning why. She gathers her strength and does as told, trying to get as much space from the drones as she can. Her timing is perfect; my Charged Slash freezes most of the batch in place, catching the attention of those I missed. Not that it does them any good as I systematically rip them apart, dancing around their attempts at counterattacking.
From there it's just a matter of demolishing the drones I'd flash-frozen, and by now Coffee's recovered enough to join me. As I smash the wolves apart, she goes to town on the honey badgers, repeatedly punching each one until the metal caves in and the power crystals shatter. She's slower than I am, and by the time I'm finished with the wolves there's still two left, but I stand back and let Coffee vent her fury instead of stepping in.
Earth pony strength... it's quite a thing.
...
Finally satisfied that the last drone isn't going to move anymore, Coffee takes a step back to catch her breath. As she does, I put out a few leftover fires and run a quick surveillance of the vicinity. I'm not seeing any more drones flying around, and I'm not hearing anypony else screaming in fear, so until more show up I think that's all of them. Around here, at least... don't know about those explosions elsewhere that kicked this whole thing off.
To repeat myself: what on earth happened over there?
Coffee's more or less recovered by now, so I turn my attention to her. "Are you alright, Officer?"
"I'm winded, but I'm not hurt," Coffee admits. Her thankful look is replaced by worry. "What in Tartarus were those things?"
"I wish I could answer that," I say in the negative. "Just double-checking, but Equestria doesn't have robots of its own, right?"
"Nowhere even close!" Coffee states emphatically, visibly appalled at the thought. "I think we would know how to deal with you when you first appeared if we had! Sci-fi's one thing, but reality is something else!"
"Not quite sci-fi." I retrieved the crystals from my inventory and showed them to her. "I was able to pull these from a few I'd destroyed back there. You can have the Department examine these if you want, but I'm positive that these were powering the drones."
"I'd wondered what those things were I'd broken... hold on to those for now. I don't have anything to carry them with."
"I'm less curious about the drones," I wonder as I put the crystals back, "than I am about those big explosions."
Coffee's eyes widened, and her ears stood up straight. "No! I almost forgot about those! Leviathan, if you don't mind--"
Whatever it is I don't mind, I'll never know. "Attention, all unoccupied officers," a calmly furious voice crackles over Coffee's radio, just loud enough for me to hear. "Attention, all unoccupied officers. Return to headquarters. The Royal Police Department is under attack. I repeat, the Royal Police Department is under attack."
"Blast it!" Coffee snarls. "Leviathan!"
I nod. "Don't have to tell me twice. Lead the way!"
Coffee immediately gallops down the street as fast as she is capable. I run alongside her, shifting into a dash from time to time when she starts pulling ahead of me. No more drones accost us as we hurry---
---...Scratch that. That steadily-increasing shadow in front of us could hardly be anything else. "STOP!"
The both of us slam on the brakes and backpedal... right on time. Something crashes down on the road, cratering it and knocking us both off our feet with the impact. A microphone-rattling roar further causes everything around us to reverberate as whatever it is swings down at me, and a fast calculation's telling me that I'm not going to be able to block it on time...!
There's a pull on the back of my vest, a grunt of exertion, then I find myself yanked backwards in a hurry. Another crater is created where I'd been a few seconds before, but I'm far enough away from it that I can afford not to care as much. "Thanks for the quick save, Officer!"
Coffee lets go of my vest, spitting something off to the side. "The cloth was a lie. It looked like cotton, but it felt like I bit into steel wool."
That warrants a chuckle. "I wouldn't call it armor if it wasn't durable enough to protect me." Though it doesn't protect much, granted. Weren't the Reploids of old much more heavily armored? I climb to my feet, wary of continued attacks. "So. What am I looking at here?"
'What', indeed. It almost looks as if someone had taken a gorilla, genetically modified it to be thirty feet tall, and stuck three of the Guard Orotic's long necks and heads on it. The body's a very dark gray, with gold trim along its legs and up its sides.
Just to clarify: it doesn't have arms. Those long necks are its arms. I'll bet this thing won't have any problems scratching its back.
Coffee's thinking along similar lines. “It looks like somepony made a golem out of a gorilla and a hydra. You okay handling this?”
The internal alarms are blaring. A meter appears on one side of my vision, estimating the beast's structural integrity. I adopt a two-handed hold on the Frost Javelin, pointing it at one of the gorilla-hydra-thing's necks. My grin is all but splitting my face in half.
“...Yeah. You are. Getting clear!” Putting words to actions, Coffee turns and gallops away.
The Gorridra, as I shall call it from now on, isn't waiting for her to leave before commencing its attack. One of its necks is swinging out at me like a club, trying to flatten me again. A single jump takes me out of danger and brings me forward, and a jump off of its torso lets me get close enough to slash at the neck's base. The Gorridra roars—whether in pain or anger, I can't tell—and tries to spear me with its opposite 'arm'. By then, Coffee is well out of danger.
A thought crosses my mind; grimacing as I dart away from the Gorridra's strike, I raise my voice to its maximum. “To anypony watching this fight, get yourself as far away as you can! Get to your back doors and leave! When this thing dies, it's going to die big, and a single wall will not save you!”
I'm hoping that got through to everypony hiding in their homes and businesses. Destroying this thing's going to be the only real way to stop it, and explosions aren't known for their subtlety. There's going to be debris all over the place, and there's a very real risk of some of it being launched clear through walls and windows. If they don't heed my warning, they probably won't live to regret it—
Yet another high heat alert! The Gorridra's middle head opens wide, and a wave of flame billows down at me. Sideways jump, sideways jump, yes! Away from the fire, rebound off the torso, and I got another hit in on the damaged neck! “I know, I know. I've heard it all before!” I state to the Gorridra as it roars again and attempts to run me through—
Wait a moment.
So I dart in, jump, slash, avoid the piercing attack, dodge the flames, dart in, jump, slash—
Did... did I just lock this thing into a pattern? Is it just going to keep doing this? Because if it is, either this thing's a victim of hardware limitations, or this is just its creator's way of saying 'hi'.
Either way, I have its number. This thing's behaving like a true Maverick, and I'm going to full well treat it like one.
…
Let's be honest. Do you really think that the Gorridra has any sort of chance against me? Like, at all? Because if you do, I think you might be watching someone else's memories.
My attack pattern gets repeated three more times before I'm finally able to slice off the neck I was targeting; the Gorridra never tried any sort of deviation. As the beast roars furiously, I stab the Javelin into the open wound and channel my powers into its interior, forcing a half-formed Spirit of the Ocean to materialize within—
The familiar noise of something fragile shattering reaches me after the Mine detonates, and the Gorridra's 'Integrity' bar disappears from my vision. The beast's roar cuts off entirely. Both of the remaining heads are collapsing to the ground with finality, the energy that had given them life disappearing forever. I jump away from the body as it topples over with an earthshaking 'thud'.
...Well. That was thoroughly anticlimactic, and there wasn't any sort of explosion like I'd been expecting. But if it means that the danger is over, I'll take it. That's the key takeaway here.
A few Charged Slashes to put out any flames, then... “Area's clear!” I yell into the air. “It's safe to come out now!”
As the residents' presence become known again--making me believe that some of them didn't run when I told them to--I circle the downed Gorridra and carve into it with the Javelin, taking it apart piece by piece. This will make it easier for the cleanup specialists this city has to handle. I sort of wonder what they're going to do with all of this, and what they're going to make of it all. I can only imagine the questions that are going to be asked behind closed doors.
Leviathan had no way of knowing this, but most of the metal would have their paint and runes scrubbed, be broken down and sent out to be reforged. A year later, a plow made from this alloy would replace the saggy old one owned by Ponyville's Apple family.
Coffee-and-Cream comes up behind me as I finish my work, saying something into her radio. “...I apologize for not arriving on time to assist, sir. I was waylaid by a giant hydra-headed gorilla. And in case you don't believe me, you're more than welcome to come out here and see the wreckage for yourself. … It wasn't alive, sir. The whole thing was made of metal, and it had some sort of magic crystal powering it...” She looks at me as she says this last bit, and I confirm it with a nod. “Came across Leviathan. She was able to procure smaller crystals of the same type from some... things that attacked us both. Maybe forensics can make heads or tails out of them. ...Yeah, she destroyed the gorilla. It's in pieces out at...”
The conversation between Coffee and her superiors continues for a bit. During it, she requests information on what's happening around town... and none of it is any good. My heart's sinking a little listening to them. Eleven officers injured, one in critical condition. Another officer apparently turned against them. Six different parts of the city deliberately attacked for reasons unknown. The only plus side is that no civilian deaths have been reported... yet. "Any idea why this happened?" I ask, my concern overriding my desire to stay quiet.
Coffee holds up a hoof for silence, listening to her radio. "Uh-huh..." Her eyes shoot open. "WHAT? You're saying that a dragon attacked the Police station? Why? ... ... Frail hair on a..." she groans, shaking her head. "Where will you be wanting me? ...Alright, I'll be heading there as soon as the cleanup crew arrives."
With her conversation done, Coffee turns to address me. Her face is contorted in fury. "This concerns you directly, so I feel safe telling you this. Somepony got it into their head to try and break the Midnight Castles out of prison. Most of the gang is still accounted for: the unicorns are passed out, the pegasi refused to leave their cells, and the Earth pony known as Barricade was grabbed before he could flee. On the other hoof, the ringleaders Iron Gates and Bastion were able to escape on a dragon's back."
And here I was thinking that the city was peaceful, relatively speaking. I was wrong. I was terribly, terribly wrong. I can't even bring myself to be surprised at an actual dragon being present. "So all those other attacks were just meant to be a diversion for the jailbreak?"
"That's what the higher-ups think," Coffee agreed. "No indication as to who this group is that struck out of nowhere. What about those things that were attacking us? What do you think?"
"It's not a coincidence," I tell the officer. I note the light damage that my Javelin had sustained during the past twenty minutes, then dismiss it back to storage and set my auto-repair to work on it. "The drones showing up at the same time all these other attacks were taking place? Somepony out there either didn't want me getting involved or just wanted to destroy me. Probably both. It was still a spectacular failure, but you have to give them credit for trying."
"The cleanup crew's going to have a field day with this," Coffee complains as she surveys the debris-saturated street. "Ten to one we've landed ourselves in the middle of something big."
"No argument from me."
There must be something about my expression that makes Coffee seem curious. "I realize you're busy, but do you feel you're up to helping us resolve this?" She continues on as I look her in the eyes, my attention gained. "The Royal Police might have a large workforce, but we can't be everywhere. Having a dragon alongside a traitor, two skilled thieves and multiple dangerous unknowns clearly escalates this up to 'Royal Guard' and 'Wonderbolt' threat levels. And with some of our veterans injured... well, I'll see if I can ask the Chief about our chances, but historically we've always been reluctant to ask for help from Canterlot or Cloudsdale. Which leaves you."
Do I want to help them? It's a valid question. I'd made it clear to them once before that going home would always be my highest priority. The thing is, that was before my perception of this city's security was challenged. If I turned a blind eye towards their problems when it was within my ability to help them out, I would never be able to sleep peacefully again. What sort of Guardian would I be if I didn't fulfill the basic definition and protect? It's all in the name.
And there's more...
...
My mind, it's...
Heh. Some duty-focused soldier I am.
I'd wanted to keep myself closed off. I didn't want to form any attachments to anypony here. When the time came to return home, I didn't want to have any regrets.
But somehow, three ponies managed to worm their way into my life in only fifteen days time. Celestia, that powerful but kind ruler who just wanted somepony to talk to on even footing. Drama Heart, the eccentric playwright who sounds like she could be a terrifyingly mad scientist. Gray Ghost, the unpredictable family mare.
If I left to pursue my own agenda, what would they think of me? Would they excuse my behavior as understandable in light of my circumstances, or would they be more likely to chew me out for not helping when I had the chance? How much goodwill would I lose if somepony died on my watch?
...
I close my eyes. Just because I'm a mechanical terror, that does not make me heartless. These ponies have a way of growing on you. Words can't describe how I'm beginning to feel towards those that have decided to be my friends. The fact that they are friends is telling: the one person I could safely call that back home refuses to speak to me because of my own misguided beliefs. Even my fellow Guardians don't fit the bill: we might be capable and willing allies who can engage in casual conversation, or stand in the same room without wanting to tear each other's heads off, but... well, when Copy X's regime began, we tended to have detached attitudes towards ourselves outside of military affairs (okay, poor choice of words, I admit it). We never had the time or the ability to forge healthy relationships.
Gray, Drama, and Celestia? Saying that I 'love' them is a stretch right now, but 'liking' them? That's a definite "yes". I'm not going to be the type of person who doesn't care what others think about me. I'm not going to ignore their opinions just because they might be different from my own; doing that just once was bad enough. If they want me to help--and there's no doubt that they would, if I asked--then I will. I can't and won't turn my back on them now.
If I did, I'd never be able to face myself in the mirror again.
…
…
...
Coffee watched as Leviathan's eyes closed and she went through the motions of exhaling a deep-seated sigh. Her eyes opened, revealing a chasm of fierce determination. The two words she spoke filled the officer with relief.
In just thirty minutes, the city's atmosphere had gone from "taking things day by day" to "barely concealed panic", with "concern" being the best possible mood. Scarcely anypony knew what was going on beyond the basics: six different locations had gone up in flames, the causes of which were unknown, and the peace was greatly disturbed. Some began to wonder if their home or business would be next, and subsequently started battening down the hatches. Others were bound and determined to continue living their lives the way they always had, though they inwardly resolved to keep their eyes open for trouble.
The city's weather control and fireponies stepped in, extinguishing the flames caused by the widespread distractions. The cleanup crews arrived at the scene of Leviathan's battles to clear away the debris. With the situation calm, at least for the moment, the Minutes' best journalists and reporters ventured forth to find out exactly what happened. It would mean less sleep for them, but this was an emergency; they didn't care.
After confirming who was healthy and who wasn't, the Police made sure their remaining prisoners were still secure and set about dispatching those who could still patrol out onto the streets, trying to reassure the citizens with their presence. In the meantime, they made plans to get into contact with the nearest construction company and get their headquarters repaired posthaste. The forensics department set to work compiling reports and evidence, trying to at the very least determine who was responsible for the attacks on the Police.
There was one bit of surprising news. The cells holding the Midnight Castles' two pegasi had been breached along with their leaders, but they had both refused to leave. Their reasons for remaining were threefold. First, according to the one who identified herself as 'Knight'--a washed-out prospect from the Wonderbolts' training program--their encounter with Leviathan was an eye-opener. While the robot had ruined their plans the night they were captured, they were amazed that such a creature existed, and they didn't feel like it would be worth it to go back out on the streets if somepony like her roamed around. Those listening suspected that there was more to it than that, but didn't press the issue.
"What I'd said before still stands," Gargoyle had added. "She's the unholy love child of the Termarenator and the Masked Matter-horn. Not changing my mind about that."
Second, while they were thieves, they were not warmongers. They had more respect for their home than to join with somepony who would strike against it. They wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on, plain and simple.
And third, dragons terrified them.
...
While everypony started making plans and consolidating what they had, conversations were taking place. The first and foremost one took place at Leviathan's home away from home.
Coffee-and-Cream had contacted her superiors to notify them of my willingness to assist the Police. She told me afterward that unless something happened that I was in a position to react to, I was to head straight for the Station at 0930 hours. That would give everypony time to analyze their information, plus get a few hours sleep. I'd wondered to myself how many of them would be pulling all-nighters.
I retrieved my purse from where I left it, double-checking to make sure its contents were still accounted for. There was a tag I'd placed on it that read "Property of Fairy Leviathan - Steal at your own risk", but there's always going to be at least one overconfident fool who believes they can get away with it. Satisfied, I made tracks for the Pyre.
I returned just as Drama's final performance for the day ended, and her audience was leaving. Some of them saw me and either waved or cowered; I nodded at the former and stayed out of the latter's way, but they all saw my serious expression and didn't try to talk to me. Did none of them hear the explosions going off? I mean, the walls would have muffled some of the noise, but they're not soundproof. A lot of them look on edge, but that could just be due to Drama's usual storytelling.
Well, they'll be getting anxious soon enough.
...
Drama and Gray are putting everything away for the night as I approach them behind the stage. The former is the first to see me. "There you are," she greets me. "I was wondering what was taking you."
Gray finishes stashing a few minor props in a storage chest before doing the same. "I'm guessing those explosions we heard were the reasons why that random stallion shoved those groceries in my hooves?"
"Yes," I answer curtly. "I'm surprised no one here panicked."
Drama's sporting that little half-crazed smile of hers. "Who says nopony didn't? I was able to work the noise into the fabric of the performance. I was at the point in the story where the protagonists... if you want to call them that... were escaping the dungeon. I claimed that the explosions were due to an unknown third party assaulting the castle for their own reasons, and the story took an entirely different turn."
Curiosity once again overcomes me. I'm going to need to leash it someday. "Dare I ask how the story ended this time?"
"The destruction of all involved. Care to know the details?"
"Pass," I say, regretting my question immediately. The last time I answered 'yes' to that question, Drama explained everything in full grisly detail. I'm no stranger to that--in fact, I've dealt with some of that personally--but I have my limits all the same. "I feel that what I have to say is more important than that..."
...
The last fifteen minutes have been spent explaining the truth behind the explosions, my encounters with the drone waves and the Gorridra, and the destructive break-in at the Royal Police station. "...So they're supposed to be letting me know where exactly they'll be needing me tomorrow morning," I finish saying to them. "I have a strong feeling that I'm going to be busy for a while. If you consider both fugitives to be one team, I'll be facing off against eight different opponents. And that's if they can find them all before our meeting. Just between you and me, I don't feel it's likely."
Part of me wonders if I should go ahead and start working on unlocking the remaining passwords in my brain. You never know with this place; I might end up needing the abilities they're hiding. Particularly since one of my possible enemies is a bona fide dragon. Being able to subject it to dry ice via my very own facepalm of doom would be advantageous.
...Maybe I'll deal with one of the non-draconic threats first. If it turns out that I'm given more of a fight than anticipated, I'll boot up that subroutine again and set it loose.
Drama's absorbing everything I say with worry, which on some level offers me relief. She might be a few songs short of a record, but she's no combatant. She's not going to get involved in this.
On the other hand, Gray's face was undergoing convulsions. When I'd first began, she was perturbed. When I talked about the drones, she was incensed. When I told them about the break-in, she became a perfect candidate for laser vision. And when I informed them of the discovery that part of it had been an inside job, I could've sworn her sclerae turned red for a moment from anger. I could hear these deep-throated growls that she's still making. Ponies are not meant to produce those noises.
Given her prior occupation, I suspect that she's taking this personally. I'd better nip this attitude in the bud before she starts. "No, Gray."
So of course my words would be met with an angry snarl. "What do you mean, 'no'?" the pegasus protests. "This is my city, Fairy. My home. I have every right to step in and protect it, and I was doing it long before you arrived. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't help you!"
"I'll give you seven," I answer, counting off on my fingers. "One: Ocean Guard."
Gray flinches.
"Two: Ebony Evening."
Her mouth opens to say something, but that 'something' refuses to appear.
"Three: Pure Energy."
Her tail, which had been lashing about, hangs limp.
"Four: Five-of-a-Kind."
Both eyes are becoming mournful.
"Five: Zig-Zag."
Her ears are turning back.
"Six: Echo."
A foreleg lifts reflexively when I mention her pet cat. The siblings have certainly talked about him enough for me to know that she sees him as part of the family, too.
I move in for the kill. "Seven: Drama Heart."
Gray hisses in surprise as she turns to my patron. "You---!"
"Listen to me, Gray," Drama states, holding up a hoof to stop her before she speaks. Could be just a trick of the light, but I think there's something in the corner of her eye. "I don't know what kind of crazy past you have that would warrant you being sent to fight Fairy by the Princess herself, and I don't care. Having to watch the pony who probably understands me the best go off and put herself in danger is not the kind of horror I specialize in."
At a loss for words, Gray plants her posterior on the floor. The fight's more or less taken out of her by this point. She doesn't have much of a backbone when it comes to her friends and family, does she?
"And before I forget..." Here, Drama's lips curl back in a snarl of her own. Her horn glows, and I can see her equine teeth morph into the crystalline drills she uses for her on-stage performances. Pretty impressive illusion. Whatever it was that was in her eye, it's gone now. "You still haven't worked off your debt to me. Until Mortar & Son is fully paid you're still working here full time, and I do not want you running off. If you do, jailbreaks and explosions will be the least of your worries."
That first one I'd expected. The second one is making the corners of my mouth twitch. Gray's chuckling, but there's a nervous edge to it.
...Though now, Drama's words are reminding me of something important that I'll need to speak with the Police about tomorrow. Between the Pyre's remodeling and the Ghost-Guard family's occasional financial issues, I'm going to need to know whether or not they're going to offer any money for the capture of those Wanted. Or if they're going to offer any sort of salary at all. Money's not an issue for me, but it will be for my friends; if I'm not going to use it, somepony ought to.
I get my smile under control, though I retain my inward eagerness. No matter what happens, the coming days aren't going to be dull.
Caramel Mocha sat at her suite's gaming table, waiting for Hazelnut to finish in the bathroom. Every few seconds she worriedly gazed out the window and watched the distant emergency workers finish their tasks. The steadily sinking sun was making it increasingly difficult to discern their details.
Much like she imagined everypony else in the city to be, the unexpected explosions and resulting fires had caught them both off guard while they were winding down from another long day. Both of the young scions had wanted to see if they could do something--anything--to help. A few guards and a janitor downstairs were able to catch them before they left and talk some sense into them; reluctantly listening to reason, they returned upstairs so that they wouldn't be in anypony's way.
Still frustrating. We went through weather training just the same as every other pegasus. We could've at least tried.
The bathroom door opened, and Hazelnut exited with a laundry basket on her back. On her way out she stopped, flinched, and raised a hoof to her head. She muttered a few words that their parents had not taught them to use before she remembered where she was. "Ughhh... sorry, Carrie," she apologized as her sister rushed over to her. "Headache's still bothering me."
Caramel offered one of her 'arms' for support, which Hazelnut accepted. "You took something for it, right?"
"Yes, but it hasn't kicked in yet." Hazelnut stumbled over to the suite's exit and deposited the basket there for their family's hired servant to pick up. "'Quick-acting', my wings. It's as slow as every other medicine."
"Everything takes time," Caramel gently rebuked her, guiding her towards her room. "C'mon, let me get you to bed. Maybe a good night's sleep will help you deal with it."
"It had better," Hazelnut grumbled before wincing. "...Sorry again. That was a bit too rude."
"I've heard worse from you in a good mood. Don't worry about it, Hazel. Good night."
"Meh. I wish."
...
After taking her own turn in the bathroom, Caramel didn't follow Hazelnut's lead. Instead, she planted herself in her favorite reading chair and tried to distract herself with other things.
As Hazel had guessed, Leviathan had wanted nothing to do with the company's business offers, if 'total silence' qualified as a reply. She seems more content just doing her own thing and carrying out her own objectives.
Oh, well. At least we tried. Now if only the board of directors could take a hint and stop whining over the lack of acknowledgement. Even I'm not stupid enough to think that the promises of money and benefits can sway everypony, and I'm the one who likes to flaunt my wealth in public.
Speaking of stupidity, there was a 'Robot Sighting' reported in the newspaper this morning. That artist who did our grandpa's portrait pitched a fit over Leviathan randomly splashing her for laughs. Personally, I don't buy it. That's a rooftop swimming pool that the artist owns. Shouldn't there have been more ponies reporting on it if the robot had climbed the side of the building?
It's best if I don't think about that one anymore. There was always something about Ms. Spiral's attitude that rubbed us the wrong way, and it wouldn't show us in a good light if we were onboard with that. If 'being behind the eight ball' means being in a precarious situation, 'being behind the nine ball' would mean supporting a moron, and I don't want the expression coined with me in mind.
Caramel was never very good at billiards.
The connection between Limefrost and her grandfather made her turn her attention to the carpet. Cocoa had stubbornly persisted for a while after his diagnosis, but the time had almost come for the twins to say their final good-byes to him. For a lack of known relatives, his personal butler Ignition would be made their legal guardian per his Will until they reached adulthood. She didn't like it: he was a decent stallion, but there was always something about him that wasn't quite right. There were better parental figures out there that they knew, and had they a choice, the twins would've picked one of them. She wondered, like she had so many times since the twins first begged him for martial arts training, what her grandfather was thinking.
The entire team of malcontents reconvened in the same meeting room as prior, pleased with the evening's events. The thieves that they had been sent to rescue were now seated alongside them, engaging in idle conversation like the rest and waiting for their boss's servant to arrive.
"...so Alexandrite's went and buggered out, didn't she?" Gates was saying to #4. "Good. Means we don't have to worry about any fallout from her angle. Would've liked to get some extra bits from her, though."
"No news on where she went," said #1. "She threw all of her property on the market, stayed long enough to grab the essentials, and took off like her tail was on fire. The article said that she was withholding where she went for the sake of privacy."
Bastion 'hmmed' thoughtfully. "And no indication as to why she just up and left. That's concerning."
Gates snorted. "Isn't it obvious? She left because 'the unholy love child' scared her. You don't need to be a psychologist to figure that out."
"'Unholy love child'," #7 repeated, laughing a little. "I read about what your Gargoyle said in the paper. It was pretty funny."
"An unstoppable robot with ice powers... an apt comparison," #4 admitted. "And this is coming from somepony who doesn't read comic books."
Gates waved at thin air, his annoyance clear. "Can we not talk about Gargoyle, please?"
"Why not? You're the one that brought her up," #3 pointed out.
"He's upset because she and Knight chose not to go along with us when given the chance," Bastion said in response to the group's unanswered question. "I'm disappointed, but not enough to be angry at them for their decision."
"We agreed not to give those who don't want to join us a hard time," #2 said, slowly nodding. "It's only when they directly tangle with us that we target them. As long as they stay out of our way, things will be just peachy."
The door at the far end opened, admitting Ignition. Everypony straightened and gave him their attention. "It would have been a nice bonus had they decided to join, but what's done is done. What matters is that all of us are present and accounted for now. Fine work to all involved."
"What about Leviathan?" #6 asked. "Do we have confirmation of her destruction?"
"Unfortunately, that was the one major hiccup," Ignition informed them, his mood a tad darker. "All of our Magiflies, Evisceragers, and Torchounds were systematically destroyed. The Gorridra barely put up a fight before she did the same to it. She wasn't even winded."
"What kind of names are those?" Gates complained, his tone snide. "Is our boss a foal? Should we be concerned about him playing hooky?"
"Gates..." Bastion warned.
"Hey, you can't tell me that a foal didn't have their hooves in those names. 'Magic' and 'Fly'. 'Eviscerate' and 'Badger'. 'Torch' and 'Hound'. Ask anypony off the street, and they could give you better names than those."
"Calm yourself, Gates," Ignition answered him. "And learn some tact. Our leader is dying, in case you forgot."
"And that changes what about his creativity?" Gates said. "Doesn't matter if you're eight or eighty. If you can't come up with intimidating names for intimidating creations, that's all on you."
"Infidel!" #5 shrieked. "I ought to use you as bait for trapping Timberwolves!"
"And I'd help," #2 joined in. "You'll need an expert with you if you want to prowl the Everfree."
"On the one hoof, Gates isn't wrong," #6 added, making a conscious effort to rein in her anger. "On the other, I really want to make him eat a boomerang right now for insulting the boss."
"Charming death threats from the continent's finest. Really, they are," Gates purred. "But your priorities are just this side of misplaced. Instead of focusing your ire on me for stating the facts, how about we talk about what's really important: giving the killer robot a taste of its own medicine? I don't know about you, but I want to slap the smug right off its face."
The conference room as a whole seethed at his insubordination, most of those present muttering to themselves. #7, having remained calmest the longest, cleared his throat. "I vote that we save the anger for when he actually fails to destroy Leviathan," he suggested, then sheepishly turned towards Ignition. "If it's alright with you, sir."
"...Indeed," Ignition dryly agreed. "All of you, be silent. #8, keep your partner in line."
"I will require hazard pay," Bastion requested after a moment.
If anypony heard the out-of-character "snrrk" from #4's direction, none of them commented on it. Gates glared at Bastion, but didn't say anything further. Ignition continued: "And #5, count yourself fortunate that the room is soundproofed forwards and backwards. Mr. Mocha's grandchildren are not to find out about our operations at any cost."
"Ooh," #5 crooned. "I thought I smelled sassafras."
Ignition kept talking, all the better to keep the group from getting distracted by that random statement. "Back on topic. Our plan if Leviathan destroyed the drones would be to deploy you as needed to kill her in their stead, and that has not changed. Aside from #3, how many of you achieved your secondary objectives? #1, we'll start with you."
"The break-in at the facility in Diarchs was successful," #1 reported. "I grabbed as much information as I could carry without being slowed down. Heh. It's their own fault for not shutting down like they were told to."
"I took out as many Officers as I could without fatally injuring them," #2 brought up. "One of them was a close call, but the hit he took isn't immediately lethal. If the hospitals here are as efficient as you claim them to be, he'll survive. And if the Police are as stubborn about their independence as is believed, there will be no support from the outside. They'll have no choice but to turn to the so-called 'Guardian' for help if they want to counter as broad a threat as us."
"Mr. Mocha's pet unicorn was unharmed. She was nowhere near any of the places that were hit," #4 confirmed. "She's still dead-set on leaving the city in a few months once she has everything she needs. Will everything be finished before she goes?" Ignition nodded, and the agent leaned back in her seat. "Then there were no problems on my end."
"I am a dainty sugarplum," #5 warbled, sounding out of it. She paused and glared at everypony, then put more emphasis on her speech. "I... am a dainty sugarplum."
It was hard to mistake the sound of hooves--or hands, in the case of #3--hitting their owners' faces. "Of all the places to find recruits," #3 complained, "you had to pick an asylum?"
"Mr. Mocha believes that her skillset is worth the trouble of keeping her around," Ignition told her. "Though what she means by that, I don't understand..."
"She said that she got away clean with everything she stole," #6 said. She shrugged when everypony turned to her in confusion. "What? You just have to know how to talk to her."
"You know her?" Bastion wondered.
"Not as well as the boss." #6 propped her head up on the desk. "But sometimes a little 'crazy' goes a long way."
"Well, that explained diddly squat," Gates grumbled.
"Deal with it, soldier-boy," #6 grunted, idly scratching an itch through her armor. "That's all you're getting."
"I trust you'll be more informative with your own report?" Ignition questioned meaningfully.
#6 waved off the veiled warning. "Is Ignition the Lord of the Dance? I took advantage of the chaos and bought every sapphire I could get my hooves on before the patrollers caught on to my presence. The shopkeeper was so eager to close up shop in favor of hiding that I was able to get a very good deal. I don't think I even spent half of what you gave me to use."
"I scoped out my entire district," #7 finished proudly. "The safe houses that Mr. Mocha procured are all in good shape. I made sure that all of them were well-stocked, up to code, and locked up before I left to begin my part of the plan."
"Well done, all of you." Ignition didn't hide how impressed he was. "I was expecting at least one of you to be met with difficulties, but you all pulled through."
Most of them smiled or leaned back in satisfaction. "So when do the two of us get our armor?" Gates inquired, being one of the two that didn't.
"Right now. #8 and #9, please follow me." Ignition turned and left the room, the thieves quick to obey.
"All of our equipment places emphasis on our capabilities," #2 remarked idly. "#1's deals with mobility, mine on hunting... wonder what theirs will do."
Idle conversation befell them all again for a time, which was a sign of how well they got along. For a group as diverse as theirs, that was surprising but welcomed. They wouldn't be willing to throw any parties for each other, but they could at least be counted on to support each other in the field. While they may have been completely different, they all had the same thing in common: respect for Mr. Mocha and his goals, and a desire to see them carried out.
Ten minutes later, the door opened and drove them all to silence. The two thieves entered the room first, now covered from head to hoof in armor. With as dark as the room was, nopony could discern any major details. Ignition followed them in, shutting the door.
Gates made his satisfaction known as soon as he was seated. When he spoke, his speech possessed a tinny overlay. "This... is what it's all about. And you're positive we're allowed to wear these full-time?"
"For the third time," Ignition sighed tiredly, "yes. In fact, I recommend it."
"Sweetness in a can."
"Just like you never left the Guard at all," #1 joked.
"Except this armor provides better protection than anything we had before," Bastion answered, his voice having gained the same quality as his partner's. "Enchanted steel isn't as durable or flexible as dragon scales, and it doesn't provide full coverage."
"You can thank me later," #3 rumbled, self-satisfied.
Ignition shook his head. "Don't get so sidetracked by your defenses that you forget why we're here. We still need to discuss where and when you will be deployed. We don't have all night, and I'm sure most of you are tired from your work today."
"You say that like I'm ever going to be distracted. Fairy Leviathan is going to die," Gates promised. "We both know it, no ifs, ands, or buts. And you wanna know what we think the best part is? With her out of action, there's going to be nothing stopping me and Bastion from carrying out our original job."
"We were hired to savage the Pyre of Fears and put one Salamandra out of business," Bastion reminded everypony. "Nothing has happened to nullify our assignment. Our eyes are on the target. And no matter where she's hiding, Alexandrite will pay us what she owes once we are finished."
"So let's quit gabbing about trivial tripe and get to the good stuff, shall we?" Gates leaned forward, both hooves resting near each other on the table. "All my pockets are still empty."
"...I'm not the only one hearing a very ominous guitar right now, am I?" #6 uttered, unsure.
"It fits," #1 stated. "And it's indicative of how all of us feel. All of us want to see two things: Celestia off the throne, and the robot rusted out of reality."
"But for the first victims of an extra-terrestrial machine..." #5 started to say, her usual dazed words temporarily stabilized.
"...this is very personal," #4 continued.
"The machine ruined what passes as a successful track record for thieves..." #7 joined in.
"And they want to fix that error with force," was #3's addition.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" #2 finished. "Different motivations, same end goal. No point in delaying anymore."
"I'm happy that we're all on the same page." Ignition gestured, and a diagram of the city appeared on one wall. "Moving on..."
...
And thus Bastion and Gates, ex-Royal Guardsponies and admitted criminals, set themselves on a course that would inevitably lead to them clashing blades with the lost Guardian once more.
From: G. G.
To: The Crown
Problems have arisen here. Multiple facilities have gone up in smoke to distract from a jailbreak. Two of the thieves that Leviathan captured have escaped, and it is sheer happenstance that the rest of the gang couldn't follow. No knowledge as to who is responsible. More information to come in tomorrow's edition of the Minutes.
Due to circumstances revolving around me, my family, Leviathan and my current employer, I am unable to act openly as a former Officer. Everypony in my apartment is frowning, Princess. And if my family's not happy, I'm not happy.
From: The Crown
To: G. G.
Cheer up, my little pony. Trust in your former department, and trust in Leviathan. I am sure they will be able to make you all smile again.
An hour and a half after everypony else had gone to bed, Gray lay awake atop the kitchen counter. This wasn't due to the surface being uncomfortable, as she'd slept peacefully on it plenty of times. Rather, she was waiting just a few moments more for the sake of nopony realizing that she had someplace she needed to be.
Eventually she climbed down and quietly drifted through the apartment, checking on her family. All of them were sleeping peacefully, though it stung her heart a little to see Ocean Guard's hoof stretched out towards her often-unoccupied spot on the bed. She stopped in the living room to pet Echo, who was meditating on life as only a cat can, then slipped silently through the kitchen window.
...
Decades before, there was a quaint little eatery known for its excellent soups. Its owners did a good business, its customers loved eating there, and everypony was happy. This came to an end when it was discovered that the building was home to a massive rat's nest. The eatery was closed down, the building was condemned, and the property went on the market.
To their credit, the owners were incredibly stubborn. They did everything in their power to try and salvage their reputations and the property, claiming that they were willing to clean everything up, take steps to exterminate the rats, and resume their life's work. In the end they were able to clear out the vermin and clean up the restaurant as thoroughly as possible, but it was too little and too late. Ownership of the property was transferred to Hay's Pizza the day they finished their tasks.
The disappointed and upset former owners were left with no choice but to downgrade to a smaller building in order to make ends meet, and it would be years before their reputations were restored. Meanwhile, the new pizzeria joined three others under that name that were scattered around the Manehattan area.
There were only a few individuals in the city who knew the truth behind Hay's acquisation of the establishment. One of them had just slipped into the building's cellar unseen, having understood the hidden message in Celestia's letter.
"Black suit, white shirt, this little pony's gonna bring the hurt..."
Gray hummed near-inaudibly as she donned said clothing items, a catchy little song from years earlier scampering through her brain. And as most from her generation were prone to do, she created lyrics that were only distantly related to the song's original topic.
"Smooth hat, sweet shades, it's a crime to have them maaaade..."
She adjusted her hat and tie, trusting that they were on straight. Finished, she claimed some sunglasses out of a pouch and placed them on her muzzle. Ready to protect the city solely with the methods that were available to her, she turned to leave the cellar while the song came to its end.
"Giving monsters far more than they can bear, while stallions go crazy for the sharp-dressed mare..."
"Attention, Agents #1-#9. Attention, Agents #1-#9. Suit up and report to the conference room immediately. I repeat, suit up and report to the conference room immediately. We have a situation on our hooves."
Most of the agents were already 'suited up', having never removed their armor (#3, #8 and #9), having gotten up early and equipped it (#1, #2, and #7), or were in the midst of doing so (#4, #5, and #6). Needless to say that when the announcement blared across their radios, the last group set a new speed record in getting ready. Everypony was down and seated in their usual meeting room inside seven minutes.
The team's usual idle chatter was abruptly cut off when Ignition stormed into the room not thirty seconds after #4 had seated herself. "I'll get straight to the point, mares and gentlecolts. Exactly three hours ago at 4:57a.m., I received an emergency alert from the security team that was promptly cut off."
Everypony stiffened. "An assassin after either Mr. Mocha or his grandfoals?" #4 wondered. "Or somepony trying to engage in corporate sabotage?"
"Neither," Ignition denied. The atmosphere around him seemed decidedly deadly. "When I arrived at the scene, all of the personnel assigned to the ground floor were unconscious without any evidence of violence. My attempts at rousing them didn't pan out. I suspected that it had something to do with our upcoming plans, so I decided not to set off the building-wide alarms or alert outsiders. I attempted to locate the intruder myself, and by the time I did, the culprit was already fleeing the scene with a suitcase in their mouth."
#1 breath hissed through his teeth. "...A suitcase? Is there anything descriptive about the intruder that you noticed? Anything at all?"
"You know something about this, #1?"
"I might. Answer the question, please."
"Only that their features were completely obscured," Ignition admitted. "I glimpsed a dark suit that blocked Cutie Mark-based identification, shades that concealed the eyes, and a fedora. The angle didn't let me discern anything else about them. The coloration of their coat, their manestyle, nothing."
There was a disgruntled groan as #1's mood dropped. "S.M.I.L.E.'s involved. They have to be."
"And who or what is 'S.M.I.L.E.'?" #9 wondered. "A dental coalition?"
"Never heard of them," said #6. Everypony else shook their heads.
"I'd have been surprised if any of you had," #1 stated with a grimace. "The Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria is a monster-hunting organization based out of Canterlot, with branches all across the nation. Before today, nopony outside the organization besides Mr. Mocha and Celestia herself were supposed to know of their existence. Trust me when I say they're bad news."
"How do you know any of this?" #7 asked wonderingly.
"Because before two weeks ago, I was part of their group myself," #1 admitted. "The boss already knows of my background; that was one of the requirements for joining him. The fact that I was juggling working for him, the Police, and S.M.I.L.E. all at once was what led to him suggesting that I start calling myself something else."
"Huh... well, now we know how dangerous they can be when they're playing 'Crusade: Inconceivable'," #9 commented. "How dangerous are they in a direct fight?"
"Some of you might remember a creature known as a 'bugbear' that was menacing some of Equestria's frontier towns not too long ago."
"I've heard of the creature," #3 remarked. "Large, bulky, strong and very mobile. They took it down? Impressive."
"Not 'they'. 'She'," #1 corrected her. "One earth pony armed with her wits, strength, and what tools she could fit in a standard briefcase. She captured it entirely solo.” He waited for #2's whistle to fade before proceeding. “For a measure of how seriously the bugbear was taken, when it escaped from Tartarus just before the robot arrived, Celestia shut down the entire organization and sent the agent responsible into hiding." He shook his head. "And before anypony asks: no, I don't know where that agent is now. That was kept a secret from me."
"Do you feel that the agent who raided the tower was working alone?" Ignition asked him.
Nopony interrupted #1 as he considered this. "Yes. Quite possibly even without Celestia's knowledge. S.M.I.L.E.'s always been full of aggressive peacekeepers—myself included--who would do whatever it took to keep Equestria safe. Considering the nature of yesterday's attacks, one of them could have deliberately disobeyed the Princess and set out to do what they felt was right, consequences or no."
#8 was the first to ask what was on everypony's minds. "How do you want us to respond to this development, Mr. Ignition?"
"And should we slap whoever it was with a suit when we catch them?" #5 wanted to clarify.
"I doubt that this 'S.M.I.L.E.' is going to care about being taken to your courts," #2 rebuked her. "Call it a hunch."
"Not what I'm talking about," #5 corrected him. "I want to rip off their own suit and slap them with it."
"Wasn't there a comic about a goofy dragon that did something like that once...?" #6 pondered to herself.
Ignition waited for them to quiet down before continuing. "You haven't yet heard what the intruder was here for. I checked for anything that was missing, and I do mean anything. The documents that were stolen were your personnel files."
Stunned silence as they all gaped at Ignition. "No...!" #4 whispered. "My career...!"
"I consulted Mr. Mocha before calling you here, and we adjusted the plan a little. Instead of taking to the field, Agents #5 through #9 will remain here at the Tower in case of attack, be it from Leviathan or from the authorities. #1 through #4 will still hold the line at your assigned locations. With your files stolen, hiding your identities would be a waste of time, so don't bother. Is this understood?"
Everypony nodded, knowing what needed to be done. #4's own agreement came a bit slower than the others, her thoughts shifting towards what the future held for her.
Ignition didn't miss this. "Provided the plan stays on schedule, #4, you will be able to resume your normal life after Celestia's downfall. Trust in Mr. Mocha's ideals and stay the course."
"...Yes, sir," #4 acquiesced, her determination reaffirmed.
"Excellent. All of you, finish what preparations you require and go." A nod. "Good hunting, one and all."
Fifteen seconds later, the room was empty.
Ebony Evening took a thermometer in her magic, checking and double-checking the mercury as if doing so would change what it suggested. Sadly such wasn't the case, and she sighed dejectedly. "103 degrees."
Fiver shook her head. "...That's what happens when you sleep without covers during the night, Mom."
Gray poked her head out the blankets and snorted something disgusting into a wad of tissue, flinging it haphazardly at a conveniently-placed wastebasket. Her aim was a few inches off, but Ebony caught it and guided it to its destination without looking. "Never stopped me before..." she whined.
Ocean Guard shook his head sympathetically. "Dear, you're in no condition to be wandering around. Maybe you should just take it easy today."
"...Like she does every day," Fiver murmured.
Gray opened her mouth to say something in protest, but it was interrupted by a sneeze that got everypony in the room to scatter. "...Ugh... Second thought, doesn't sound like a bad idea..."
"Let her out, she wants in," Pure Energy said, gesturing back and forth. "Let her in, she wants out."
"Dad, maybe just... go on to work?" Ebony suggested, hesitant at telling her father what to do. "We'll stay here and take care of her."
"I'll admit that I want to stay and help, too," Ocean admitted. "Unfortunately, I can't afford to miss too many days. Can I count on the four of you to look after her until I get home?"
Ebony smiled confidently. "Like you even need to ask, Dad."
"Of course, of course!" Energy agreed cheerfully.
"...We're going to be guard dogs," Fiver declared in all seriousness. "...Dibs on 'Collie'."
Zig-Zag beamed at their father. "I'm a helper!"
Ocean was relieved. "Excellent. Thank you. Now, things have gotten a lot more dangerous overnight, so keep the doors and windows locked. If you must leave the building for any reason, make sure you're in the company of somepony we all trust, alright?"
Ebony nodded, then winced. "I'll have to end up doing that later. Drama Heart's going to call out the search parties if Mom and I don't show up. Somepony has to tell her that we won't be in today."
"I'll swing by the Pyre on my way to work and let her know. That shouldn't be a problem," Ocean said, alleviating her concerns. "I'll see all of you later, kids." He approached the bed, offering his wife a comforting smile. "And I'll see you after work, Gray. Hope you get to feeling better."
"Hope so too. Maybe we should hire guides to map out the mountain of tissue that'll be here later," Gray joked weakly. The children's smiles, minus Fiver's non-existent one, were just as slight.
As Ocean went on his way, the foals divvied up some tasks between themselves. Ebony, being the most capable of them in the kitchen, set about fixing some toast and orange juice for Gray. Energy and Zig-Zag hustled around the apartment to work on a few minor chores that their mother typically took upon herself to carry out, though their efficiency left much to be desired. Fiver retrieved a card deck and sat down next to Gray's bed to keep her company, playing a Solitaire variation that only she knew the rules for.
...
Unknown to everypony present, Gray's condition was not due to her long-standing habit of sleeping wherever she pleased without covers.
She had spent most of the night investigating the series of attacks, backtracking them one by one to the same point: the headquarters of the Chocolate Mocha Beverage Corporation. After entering and shutting off an alarm that she'd deliberately triggered--and incapacitating the security guards who'd reacted to it--she came across a side area that was disconnected from the rest of the building, with no obvious ways in or out (with emphasis on 'obvious'). Of course, that did nothing to stop her from slipping in same as ever.
While looking around and evading the few security measures present, she discovered Ignition's personal office. The file cabinet next to the desk was triple-locked, which required her to use her phasing ability to undo the locks from the inside out. She took a quick glance at the files within to confirm that they were important, nodded when she recognized some information on the Midnight Castles' affiliation, then stashed them in her briefcase and departed the same way she'd arrived. She made no attempts to access the highest floors of the facility, not seeing any real need.
Unfortunately, on account of her needing to drop the information off with the Police and return the suit and briefcase to their proper hiding places, Gray didn't get back to Hyacinth Apartments until right around 6a.m. In addition to spending most of the day working at the Pyre, she had been out all night running around the city and trying to get things done. In her rush to finish before her family started waking up, she had been pushing herself just a little bit too much. She was bone tired in ways she hadn't felt in almost twenty years, and she was beginning to feel under the weather from the stress. By the time her children were awake, she was vaguely dizzy and her sinuses had gone on strike, requiring her family to drag her into the master bedroom and get some blankets over her.
Not as young as I used to be. I feel terrible, Gray told herself. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat. She watched through half-closed eyes as Fiver played her game, and her ears twitched at the sound of a whisk broom in the living room. She considered trying to pick up the scent of toast, but decided there wasn't a point to it. Trying to create an environment where these four can lead peaceful lives... I don't regret my work for a minute.
She shuddered as something she didn't like paid a toll and accessed her mind's highway. She pulled the blankets a little tighter around herself. Still, if it comes down to my family's happiness or my loyalty to the Crown... it would be a nightmare if I was forced to pick just one.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Coffee?"
"Yeah, Fairy?"
"I need you to pinch me."
"Only if you pinch me first."
"I'm seeing this," I mutter, my voice as dull as Fiver's. "I'm really seeing this right now. I thought you said a dragon busted down a wall to grab the thieves. Broke open multiple cells in the process."
"I did," the officer replies in the same tone.
"I'm no mason," I say, "but I don't think brick- or stonework is supposed to be finished this quickly."
"Neither do I, but what do I know?"
"And I don't think the bars for the cells are supposed to be replaced this fast, either."
"Repeating yourself is getting old, Fairy."
"..."
"..."
"Coffee?"
"Yeah, Fairy?"
"I need you to pinch me."
"Only if you pinch me first."
I've been stuck in this cycle for the past few minutes. I got to the Police station on schedule, and I asked Coffee-and-Cream if they were able to find somepony able to repair all of the damage on short notice. As it turns out, not only are the masons they hired halfway done already, but the M.C.'s two pegasi--Knight and Gargoyle--are helping them install the new bars.
A thought is crossing my mind. I indulge it, if only because this is my best chance to break the cycle. It's been a few days since I last said this, anyway. "Everypony..." I start out saying it quietly, but my voice leaves me behind. "...in this city... IS CRAZY!"
One of the masons rolls his eyes as he works. "Robot, I'm from Ponyville. 'Til you've been there for a moon or two, you have no idea what 'crazy' means."
"I've heard of the place, but I don't know anything about it," Coffee admits. "Beyond maybe one oddball product, it's only on the map because of its proximity to Canterlot."
"I wouldn't suggest puttin' down roots there," the mason warns her. "Not unless you have a high tolerance for 'pink'. Just sayin'. I opened my business here just to get away from her once in a while. Coincidence that I was in town when your Chief tried to reach me."
"Agh..."Don't want to know, don't want to know. "Forget it." My eyes regards the prisoners. "And what about you two?"
"It's something to do," Knight answers. "They were going to install them whether we helped them out or not, so we asked if we could. Figured the worst the cops could do was tell us 'no'."
I'm getting the feeling there's a reference I'm not understanding. "Well... good for you, I guess. Officer, I believe we have somewhere to go?"
...
The room that she leads me to appears to be the hub of the Police station. Aside from the lack of high-end technology, the layout bears a passing resemblance to every command center I've ever been in. None of those present acknowledge me, instead poring over assorted documents and evidence while discussing the present situation with each other. A few of them seem pretty tired, suggesting to me how long they've been awake. I'm detecting a strong scent of coffee... the beverage, not the pony, though I'm not saying that the pony couldn't have used a shower.
The actual Coffee directs me to a spare desk and the decked-out bulletin board next to it. "We hadn't had much success trying to piece things together last night," she explains. "There just wasn't enough leads, and forensics was coming up empty. Then shortly before 0600, we received an unexpected windfall." She gestures at a stack of files labeled IG-MTC on the desk. "This batch right here. Nopony saw who delivered these, and whoever it was didn't stop to talk to anypony... there was just an anonymous note saying 'You can thank me later'. Examination of these files revealed some important information."
A long shot, but... "Do we have our culprits?"
Coffee flashes a smile. It doesn't last long. "Yes. One of the files describes the dragon exactly like our eyewitnesses did. All of them mention the strange armored suits the group was reported to be wearing. And sadly, one of them has clued us in as to how the dragon knew exactly where to strike. Normally this wouldn't be enough by itself, but in the past half hour, our officers on the beat have confirmed sightings of four of these individuals engaging in illegal activities. Same armor, but this time without any attempts at hiding their faces."
Normally this would be good news in that I can jump into action immediately. However... "What's the bad news?"
The officer glares at the folders, a hoof trembling. "One of the attackers is one of our own."
...That would do it. I give Coffee my 'serious' face. "Anypony I've met yet?"
"Not unless you crossed paths with him after our first meeting," Coffee suggests.
I shake my head. "The only authority figure I've met since then was somepony from the Royal Guard, and that was just to clarify a few things I hadn't mentioned in the newspaper."
Coffee doesn't press me for details, for which I'm thankful. It's bad enough that Gray's children and Drama were able to figure things out. "Then no, it wasn't. All of us are mad, sad, take your pick, but the Chief's made it clear that if we're angry enough to stew, we're angry enough to capture the mole and put him where he belongs."
"Which is where I come in?"
"Yes. Chief's noticed that I get along with you well enough, so I've been directly assigned to you for the duration of this incident. I'll be giving you any intel that you'll need to finish your assignment."
Now if this isn't a familiar feeling... "Fine with me. Not to sound mercenary, but are there any payment arrangements? Normally I wouldn't ask for anything, but both Gray and my patron have been terrific..."
"...and you want to give something back to them," Coffee finishes. "A chunk of our budget's going towards those masons and our injured ponies, but I think we can work something out. I'll run it by the Chief after this, see what he thinks."
Best response I could have hoped for. "Good enough." I sit down on the floor to bring myself around eye level. "Let's get started, Officer. Who are we up against?"
"Alright, let me see... rrgh. Okay, first one we've got is the traitor in our ranks," she explains, all but spitting out the word as she opens the first file. She shows me a photo of a well-built, light-brown stallion with a blue and green mane. His Cutie Mark as depicted on the sheet resembles a coil. "Earth pony, mid-forties. Used to be known as 'Springboard', but had his name legally changed to 'Trifecta' this past year. Formerly a drifter who held part-time jobs at best, he was allegedly inspired to become a full-time law enforcer after seeing ex-Officer Gray Ghost at work. He's currently holding down the fort at the abandoned Diarchs Zoological Institute across the bridge."
The second file depicts a lean, mean Griffon machine. Its plumage is dark gray, and its fur is a patchwork of white and tan. There's a few areas on its face that are discolored, suggesting that its been scarred in the past. Its sunglasses and hat---I know what it's called, it's just not coming to mind right now---are blocking its eyes from view. "This is Glintlock, originally out of Griffonstone. Approximately mid-thirties." Coffee explains. "Hunts for both food and sport, but his own race has put a bounty on him. Wanted 'Alive' because of his insistence on hunting in territories where such activities are illegal. It has been reported that he's holed up at Median Park. The paths into the park have been blockaded to keep non-fliers from entering."
File #3 shows the one responsible for the jailbreak. It's a real beast of a dragon; it's difficult to tell just from a photograph, but it seems to stand at almost double the height of Bossa Nova. Its reddish-orange coloration is a dead giveaway as to its abilities, so if it's not a fire-breather, I'll be surprised. Hot pink eyes and back ridge... ha ha ha, I get it. "The file calls this one 'Metallium'. Almost a century old. She's from the Dragon Lands, no surprise there. She was a complete unknown before we obtained this file. It says that the armor all of these criminals use was derived from scales that she and other dragons have shed across their lives. She's claimed a public beach on the mainland for herself and scared all of the tourists away."
The fourth file takes us back to the norm. This one's a snow white pegasus with lime green eyes, her pose the epitome of elegance and pony beauty. There's a second photo of her in a white-and-teal uniform on an ice rink, spinning in mid-air while a crowd watches. The enclosed Cutie Mark depicts an icy, crystalline rapier. "Statuette, late twenties. She's a professional figure skater from Vanhoover, so she's fairly well-known. One of the few ponies capable of making a triple axel look flawless. No past criminal record." Coffee's face crinkles in confusion. My kingdom for a camera. "And her favorite lunches are pear jam sandwiches, though I don't know why they thought of including that detail. Anyway, she's been found at Madisoat Square Garden overseeing the placement of an ice rink in the arena. Our spotter has confirmed that she's armed with a sword in the likeness of her Cutie Mark."
Coffee sets those four aside and claims the next one. "Those are the only ones we can definitively confirm as being active this morning, but we'll go over the rest of these for future reference." She opens the file to show me a unicorn whose color combination strikes me as jarring: topaz coat, royal blue mane and tail with silver streaks. Her Cutie Mark is a shroud of sparkles encircling a light beam. She's trying to look anywhere but the camera. "Illudere. Early thirties. A would-be performance artist from Baltimare. At some point she accidentally hit herself with a powerful illusion spell that she was trying to learn, and it caused her to start living in her own little world, effectively rendering her insane over time. She was confined to an asylum for everypony's safety, but managed to escape with help."
Hm. Makes me wonder if Drama's ever heard of her. Could still be coincidence, but my instincts are telling me that they're connected somehow.
#6... I don't know what to make of this one. The subject looks like someone combined a pony, a dragon, and a stag into the same being. Whatever it is, its coat's an off-white shade, its fluffy mane and tail are cream-gold, and the scales going down its face, neck and back are a dark grayish-blue. Instead of being the same color as its coat like a unicorn horn, this creature's horn is crimson and maroon.
Coffee seems just as puzzled. "Calico Driftwood, approximately mid-twenties. Origin unknown. The file calls her a 'kirin', but there's nothing on that race in our archives... at any rate, she's hesitant to talk about her species with others, and she's a born wanderer. She's been sighted here and there around Equestria in the past, primarily in large cities, and there's an outstanding warrant against her in Canterlot for the theft of a refrigerator."
#7 is more ordinary by comparison. The earth pony stallion is auburn, and his mane is a dirty blonde mess. Compared to the others, this one appears to be more friendly and easy-going. His Cutie Mark is a sledgehammer. "Bushwhacker. Early twenties. Was raised at Seaddle, but moved to that Ponyville place when he was old enough. No previous criminal record. There's... nothing noteworthy about him. Lives the quiet life, gets along fine with everypony, makes a modest living... before yesterday, he was an upstanding citizen."
Which runs directly counter to his name. I doubt that he's called 'Bushwhacker' because of his candy-making skills. Something about him is off.
Finally, Coffee pulls out the dossier on the two escapees. Now that they're neither disguised nor under the cover of darkness, I can see what they look like for the first time. The larger of the two is a mid-to-dark green, with his mane a dark brown. I raise an eyebrow at the X-shaped scar near his eyes, wondering what gave him that injury. He doesn't look like he's smiled a day in his life... probably from having to keep his partner in line for so long. His Cutie Mark is a miniaturized castle, so I guess that's how the 'Midnight Castle' theme got started.
The more average-sized earth pony has a light orange coat, a similarly light brown mane cut short, and the most kickable face in existence. Seriously, between that raised eyebrow and his little smirk, he radiates so much ego that I want to tear out his photo and rip it to pieces. Predictably, his Cutie Mark is a closed gate.
Coffee's quick to notice my annoyance. "Yeah, yeah. I hear you. Bastion and Iron Gates, mid-to-late twenties. Formerly with Canterlot's Royal Guard. Just over a year ago, they let their greed get the better of them and took off for Manehattan, stealing an assortment of weight- and mass-adjusting crystals on their way out of Canterlot. They formed the Midnight Castle gang after their arrival and roamed free across the city until you showed up. Bastion's the more quiet and level-headed of the two, and he's proficient with the same type of close-range weapons you are... given his prior career, he'd have to be. Gates is more talkative and proud, and loves his combat knives."
A brief memory of Gates targeting my Omega-dealt damage comes back to me. "I can believe that."
Coffee puts these files away and takes the ones she'd previously set aside. "Now we have a basic idea of who we're up against. Of the four that are active, who do you think you would want to use as a starting point?"
Dealing with Glintlock or Metallium first would mean a great deal to the public at large. Median Park is Manehattan's largest recreational area, based on what I've learned in my time here, and any place made safer for the residents is a good place. In addition, Statuette strikes me as being fairly low on the threat meter compared to the other two. She should be a breeze to capture early.
I push myself to my feet. But in the end... "Let's go after Trifecta first. Given that he was the mole in the Police for some time, he's probably the biggest source of information for whoever orchestrated yesterday's events. The sooner we can catch him, the fewer opportunities he'll have to share his findings with his new superiors."
Coffee puts three of the folders down, leaving only Trifecta's. "Perfect. Nothing to do but point you in the right direction, then. We'll need to stay in contact with you, so do you require a spare radio...?"
I shake my head 'no'. "I have one built into my helmet already, though just to make sure it'll work..." Let's see, testing, testing... not that frequency, no... are they even compatible?...
Coffee winces at a brief burst of static from her radio. Okay, they are compatible. Now to nail down the right frequency. "Bear with me here..." I mutter. "Voice check... not hearing any echo there, so that's not it. ...Trying this one." I drop my voice to a low whisper. "Officer, are you picking this up?"
"Hearing you loud and clear," Coffee states with a blink. "That answers one concern we had. We didn't have any radios that could attach to the side of your helmet. What's the range on that?"
"It should be able to reach you from the mainland, though past that I would need a signal booster," I confirm, wishing once more that I had access to Neo Arcadia's hardware. I'll never take long-range communication for granted again. "Provided you don't somehow change frequencies without me knowing, we ought to be able to keep in constant contact even with what you've got. Of course, when I reach my destination we'll need to maintain radio silence unless I break it first."
"Yes, General," Coffee confirms, sitting up and saluting me with her free hoof.
I can't suppress a weak laugh. "I'm not complaining, but why that term of address? I'm not directly part of the chain of command."
"I don't care. You said you were a General," Coffee states matter-of-factly. "So until you do something that proves you aren't, then I'm calling you a General."
“...Putting a bit too much trust in me,” I protest quietly. It's too soon to be addressing me by rank. I'd rather it was saved for after I finish my work, when there's no longer any doubt. “But I guess I'd better live up to my title. How do I get to the Institute?”
“You're familiar with the bridge, I'm assuming?” I nod at Coffee's question. “Follow it to the mainland, then turn south and follow the coast for a mile. You'll receive further instructions when you hit Diarchs' borders.”
“Roger. I'm on my way.” My mission set, I hurry as fast as space permits towards the door...
...
...and pause before I step through. "Oh, yes. One more thing, Officer. Mind hitting the showers? You kind of..." I wave my hand semi-helplessly near my nose.
"I know, right?" a desk jockey pipes up in agreement.
Coffee groans as she leaves the room by way of another exit. "I just had to buy the cheap variety..."
Coffee-and-Cream had told Leviathan that the Diarchs Zoological Institute was abandoned. That was true, but it wasn't the full story by any stretch.
Fifty years ago, a researcher had decided to devote his time to the study of animals, including the oddities and misconceptions that surrounded them. Why did bears occasionally become spooked when meeting an animal they far out-massed? How did birds that weren't alive more than a year or so know how to reach a specific nesting ground? Were parrots really capable of understanding Equish, or was it all just mimicry? He hoped to answer these questions and more for the sake of those truly curious. With permission from the mayor of Manehattan and the town of Diarchs's council, the Institute was constructed.
Not everypony the researcher hired to assist him cared about his goals. Some only put up with it for the money. A hoofful of others took advantage of his generosity and effectively took over the facility, quietly constructing multiple sub-levels without his say-so or knowledge. Years later, it was discovered that illegal experimentation on pony biology was being carried out in secret, prompting the town council to get in contact with the Royal Police and acquire warrants for the arrests of all involved.
Despite not being involved in the experimentation and being cleared of any wrongdoing, the researcher who started it all was ashamed of what happened. After a long-winded and curse-laden rant that the Minutes deemed unfit for print, he surrendered all of the animals on-site to various zoos and collectors around Equestria and quit his job. He was able to gain employment elsewhere after the incident ran its course, but he would spend the rest of his life wondering where exactly he went wrong.
What he did not do was turn the Institute over to somepony trustworthy, which proved to be a mistake. The same pony who had made it possible for the experimentation to take place sunk his teeth into the opportunity, using an intermediary to take full control of the facility and continue his designs in secret. Despite the exterior and upper levels keeping the outward appearance of abandonment, the activities in the basement persisted for decades. Whenever somepony inquired about doing something with the property to make it look nicer--or in one case demolishing the Institute entirely--steps were always taken to make sure the subject was dropped.
This changed when the Minutes' special edition about Leviathan hit the stands, provoking Cocoa Mocha into accelerating his timetable. Via Ignition, the staff was told to relocate their assets to the labs beneath the corporation's headquarters in preparation for the eventual coup against Celestia. Not being anywhere near Mocha's inner circle and thus not being in the know as to what was planned, the staffers unanimously decided that they didn't want to move and protested the decision. At first things were quiet, and the division leader let himself believe that Mocha respected their stand.
Yesterday, Trifecta triggered an explosion at one end of the Institute as part of Mocha's plan to distract from Bastion and Gates' jailbreak. This betrayal left the division in a precarious position: either request direct assistance from the authorities and risk leaving everything they'd been doing out in the open, or scatter to the winds and leave themselves out in the cold.
When the Royal Police together with Diarchs's resident Guardsponies arrived to pursue Trifecta, some of the staffers decided "to Tartarus with this" and turned themselves in after he was gone. They were willing to share what they knew if it meant getting back at their betrayer in some way, regardless of prison time. The rest of the division decided to leave, fleeing as soon as everypony's backs were turned, but they didn't get far when some onlookers late to the party decided "oh no you don't" and decided to go after them.
Due to the circumstances, the entire division was being kept at the local jail. Nopony had time to interrogate them yet, instead trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Which was a shame: had they the opportunity to do so, at least one of the problems that waited for Leviathan at the Institute could have been avoided...
Any opportunity for a swim.
When I arrived at the bridge, I didn't waste time walking along it: I jumped right into the water instead. Dash-jumping along the bridge might have been fun, and it would have given me a nice view of the area, but right now I need speed. And for me, speed means jetting through the water at full throttle. For those non-nautical types listening in, 130 knots translates to about 150 miles an hour, and that's more than I can get by running.
Another thing I'll never take for granted again is the ability to teleport from place to place. Back home, we had an orbital satellite set aside specifically for use by the Guardians and Copy X. With proper clearance, we could use it to warp from Neo Arcadia to just about anywhere we were familiar with in less than a heartbeat. Without it, I have to travel long distances on foot or by vehicle like everypony else.
...Using that term so easily is starting to get a little bothersome. I've got to remember to start using "everybody" when I return home or I'm going to end up looking silly, and I'd prefer to leave the silliness here. If I talked about half of the things I've experienced here, people would either laugh at me or wonder if I'd been reprogrammed.
Alright. Reached the end of the bridge. Turn south, and follow the coastline for a mile. Coffee told me that I'd be getting more information when I get there. Is she going to contact me, or am I going to be meeting with one of Diarchs's representatives?
Surfacing and climbing onto a well-built dock currently occupied by a ferry, I look around for somepony I can talk to for information---
"Huh. That was quick. Wasn't expecting backup to get here this soon."
---or, the information could find me first. I give the Royal Police stallion that had spoken a salute. "You're not bothered by what I am?"
He shivers. "Kind of, but if Headquarters sent you, I shouldn't complain. Let's get to work."
...
The officer leads me into a much smaller settlement than what I've gotten used to. It's still sizable, but it has nowhere near the scope or importance of Manehattan.
An abridged explanation from the officer answers my unspoken questions. Diarchs is what some here call a "bedroom community", in that the majority of those here who have jobs work in Manehattan. As such, the town is primarily residential as opposed to commercial or industrial. That's not to say that it completely lacks a commercial presence, but it is heavily downplayed in favor of Equestria's largest city and its multiple industries.
Two of those butterflies I've fought before confront us when we've gotten a few streets in, causing the officer to panic briefly. A few quick swings of my Javelin put the drones down permanently, calming him down. He tells me that it's a sign we're getting near the Zoological Institute, that whole bunches of these and similar drones were sighted in the area, and that nopony here wants to deal with getting shot with strange magic. They want to get Trifecta out of the building, but not badly enough to want to get shot at. Fair enough, I suppose.
Thinking about it, I'll need to destroy every single drone I come across. If Manehattan's initial reaction to me showed me anything, it's that the world is not ready for this level of technology. These ponies deserve better than to go from a world of natural beauty to one layered with metal, electricity, and oil. My home's age-old wars don't need to be repeated here.
Part of my mind wonders when I started caring for this world that much. The rest of my mind tells it to shut up.
...
A few more streets and twenty more drones later, and we arrive at our destination. As we survey the building from outside the property line, I decide that the Zoological Institute is another building that I'd classify as "of respectable size". It's about three-fourths the width of Bronclyn High and stands three stories tall, averaging about fifteen feet per story. I'm assuming they'd need that much height to accommodate any animals they brought into the facility; not all critters are pony-sized (or Mutos Reploid-sized, for that matter). It has multiple entrances, including one large enough for non-ponyfolk.
Structurally speaking, it's not anything to write home about. Some of the windows are boarded up, and others are broken or cracked. The smooth gray stonework seems stable enough, but that's all it really has going for it. The roof is damaged in spots, with the most notable damage being a large hole at the far end that was probably the result of Trifecta's attack. The property is overgrown with grass and weeds, most of them as tall as the Officer next to me, and there's a few debris scattered about.
A quick look at the back of the property reveals some outdoor pens that have fallen by the wayside, along with a large pond that's in serious need of cleaning. The sign at the front door proclaiming the facility's name has seen better days, the text faded and the illustration of a parrot washed out. Finally, said door has a set of old padlocks keeping it from swinging open.
"From what we've confirmed, Trifecta's taken refuge somewhere in the building," my guide says to me, interrupting my analysis. "He's both armed and has some sort of funky armor protecting him, so be careful."
"Always am," I tell him. "Make sure that everypony stays clear of the area until I'm finished. There's no telling what's going to happen in there."
A nod. "Can do. If you can find anything that says what's been going on here over the years, would you let us know? Those ponies we arrested probably know some stuff, but with everything going on we haven't had the time to interrogate them."
"Certainly. Speaking of, keep somepony on hoof watching them. If Trifecta decides that they know too much, he might decide to go after them personally. Or he might send a few drones after them."
The Officer shivers. "I don't like our chances in that case, but what else is there?"
"Those butterflies are actually pretty easy," I say consolingly. "Any earth pony worth their strength can one-shot them before they have a chance to attack, and their patterns are predictable." I frown. "Though if something that isn't a butterfly attacks you, I'd suggest keeping at range so that you have the time and space to evade. Do you have any enchanted weaponry?"
"Oh, sure. The local Guards' office keeps a few there under lock and key."
"Wonderful. Then provided that you think strategically, you should be good. Just keep your eyes open and play it by ear. If I can capture Trifecta, I can probably prevent it from taking place at all, but if I somehow fail..." Which I refuse to acknowledge, because that would imply gross incompetence on my part.
Unexpectedly, a two-word message flashes across my HUD for no more than a second.
...Okay, probably unnecessary, but still pretty neat. I don't remember that showing up during any of my prior outings.
I vault over the chain link fence surrounding the property, ignoring the gate entirely. The front door isn't much of a blockade, either: stabbing the padlocks with the Javelin breaks them. Since nopony ever locked the door from the inside, I'm able to waltz right in.
Very thankful for the differences in technology. A proper security door with a keypad would have kept me stymied a bit longer.
While the exterior was proof positive of the Institute's abandonment, the interior isn't. Oh, it might look as such to the untrained eye, but there's plenty of signs that someone like me can recognize. Just here in the front lobby, I can spot a trail of hoofprints leading across the dusty floor here and there. Most of them are leading straight down the hall... past the badger drone that's guarding it.
The badger takes note of my presence and braces itself, daring me to get close enough. Without any support, it's got nothing to protect against the spearheads I fire at it from afar. Too damaged to react in time, it has no bite left in it when I get in close enough to bisect it.
Stepping past the destroyed drone, I try to keep an eye on where the hoofprints are leading. The hall doesn't have any real illumination, as flipping an obvious light switch accomplishes nothing. I know they've discovered electrical lighting in this world, as Drama's theater has a mix of both lanterns and incandescent bulbs. They were probably trying to keep up the ruse that the building was unoccupied for as long as possible, so they removed any visible light sources.
It won't do more than inconvenience me at best. This far in, I won't be too bothered by foreign light for my Deep Sea vision to hinder me. Just have to know when to blink as I total a few fire-breathers that make their presence known. A Charged Slash extinguishes the leftover embers, leaving me free to continue.
As I take a few turns at some bends in the hall, a chorus of skittering noises reaches me. A new type of drone is above and to my right: spiders, each one the size of my fist. Where the tips of their legs should have been, there are tiny little scythes. Where the heads normally would be, there are instead finely-cut sapphires. Despite the differences in appearance, I'm reminded of the much larger Hoppiders, similar mechaniloids that were used for scouting and information gathering back home. Ebony would need a pretty big flyswatter if she ever hoped to exterminate one of these.
Now, I'm not afraid of spiders. Arachnids on the whole have never bothered me. However, given how sharp those legs look, I'm not going to risk them damaging me by letting them jump on me (and who knows what kind of enchantments they have). So as they jump down at my face and neck, I spin the Frost Javelin in an application of what I privately call my “Water Circle” technique, ripping through all six of them in a flurry of ice and metal.
The sapphires clatter to the ground. Not having any means of carrying them, I leave them where they lie and continue my stroll through the Institute. I'll let the cleanup crews deal with them after this mission is over.
Another group of spiders accost me as I follow the hoofprints, as do three more butterflies and a badger. This reminds me of all the video footage I've seen of Zero tearing through whatever facility he was invading. In all of them he was unstoppable, letting nothing keep him from accomplishing his objectives. I'm not ready to put myself on his level yet, but man alive am I starting to get a good idea of what he went through.
But there's still a few things missing from this endeavor. C'mon, they're right on the tip of my tongue...
...Right. I'm not seeing any pits or spikes.
In some facilities back home, such as the factory the Resistance captured during Zero's first run with them, we would install specially-made pits in key areas as a defensive measure against intruders. The pits were deep enough that a fall into them could do serious, if not lethal, harm to the victim. At that point, we could send down a few fliers to recover any pieces.
Of course, we would seal the pits outside of emergencies; no point in having them open when you're just going to your boss's office to say hello. And we never opened them if there were any flesh-and-blood beings around. The fallout would have been horrendous, and I don't mean that in the literal sense.
As for the spikes, they've been used as an extra defensive layer since... well, I want to say since before X was created, never mind me. For reasons unknown, they'll obliterate any robotic being that comes in contact with them. It doesn't even have to be the sharp end that does the deed: I still remember one hapless Reploid worker--who was scheduled to be 'retired' anyway--helping to install a new set, accidentally brushing his hand against the side, and promptly exploding in a shower of shrapnel and energy. There's a reason that 'Handle With Extreme Caution' is printed on the packaging in the largest font size allowable.
I'm glad they don't have either of those here. It was fine when I was on the dealing end, but on the receiving end? I don't understand why, but just thinking about suffering those makes me feel like millions of voices are screaming in rage.
I've been led inside what used to be an old storage room, going by the toppled-over cabinets; I closed the door behind me out of habit. The hoofprints I've been following stop at the bottom of a staircase. Heading on up... no, scratch that. The top of the steps have been barricaded, and they've been that way for a long time: the wood doesn't look like it's been touched for decades. Maybe I should head back outside and get in through one of the broken windows...?
Wait... I just got another look at the prints. They didn't turn left, as if they were going upstairs. They were heading right, towards the wall. Obvious secret passage.
Now, how to open it? It's sealed up tight. I'm not seeing any handles, or anything that would otherwise allow for easy entry. I don't want the city—either of them—to get on my case if I destroy--
What's this little message scrawled at the very top? Writing looks messy, and I can barely see it in the dark...
(Message translated from Equish to English for your convenience)
...”Press 'X' to doubt”? Doubt what? And what's this 'X' it's referring to? The text has probably been there a while, so I highly doubt it's the X I know, and yes I know I walked into that one.
Unless it's talking about this little X-shaped crack in the paneling, down in the corner. It's the only thing I'm seeing that makes sense. So, I guess I just press my thumb against it, or...?
...
That did the trick. The wall's slowly sliding away along a track, leaving enough space for me to pass through. Just have to be mindful of that when I return to ground level, but I should be good.
Of course, now I have to combat the greatest enemy Equestria's thrown at me yet: these blasted stairs. The flight is steeper than it was at the Pyre, the steps are slightly smaller, and there's more of them. I'm feeling envious of the pegasi right now: there's enough space for them to just fly on down. Me? I'm stuck taking these one at a---
“WHA?!”
…
Yep. It happened. And if I have to tell you what I mean by 'it', you clearly haven't been following my tale from the beginning. At least there's no real damage, though it severely dampens my mood and the bottom of the flight is sealed off, meaning I have to go back up. “My kingdom for an escalator!” I snarl, frustrated enough to slam my hand against the wall.
In response, the wall obligingly slides away along another track, opening out into another corridor.
I don't know whether that was a legitimate password or if it was just responding to the impact, I grouse as I stand back up. Either way, I'm still annoyed.
There's another light switch just inside the corridor. I deactivate my Deep Sea vision to be safe, flip the switch... and a handful of bulbs across the walls flicker on, permitting me to see where I'm going unaided. There we go. This floor has power, and presumably water too.
Now, then: information. Or Trifecta. Preferably both. Where should I begin looking?
Since I discovered the basement, I have not been attacked by a single drone. From what my guide told me, I got the impression that there should have been more of these lurking around. The only ones I've seen since I arrived were the ones on the ground floor. Where have they all gone?
One of the rooms had a chalkboard detailing some complex mathematical equations, which I more or less understood. They were linked to magical formulae and runic symbols, which I didn't. Included on the board was a diagram of those butterflies I'd been seeing, with the label "Magifly" stenciled beneath it. At the very least, I have a name for those now. In addition, it offers some proof that whoever it was that orchestrated the Police Station attack, the scientists have connections to them.
That's the only worthwhile evidence I've been able to find. Any paperwork that could possibly disclose additional details has vanished. Either those ponies at the jail had something to do with it, which seems unlikely due to some of them being willing to talk, or Trifecta stole it when nopony was looking. Either way, this has been a disappointment so far.
Connection established with Headquarters. "Officer Coffee, this is General Leviathan with a status report." The chain of command back home would have fits if they ever heard that sentence. It must be why I'm smiling. "I found some design specs for one of those drone types that attacked us yesterday, but the basement's otherwise looking sparse. No sign of Trifecta yet, so I'm suspecting he's not ready to be found. Over."
-"Confirmed, General. Have you searched Sub-Level #2 yet?"-
Huh. "I wasn't aware that there was a Level #2."
Some papers rustle over the connection. -"There was a case involving the Institute thirty-five years ago,"- Coffee informs me. -"According to our files, there should be two sub-levels accessible via hidden passages. Almost half the arrests the Police carried out during that case were beneath your feet. Over."-
Unless it was completely blocked off between then and now. It's still worth checking out, though. This is why it pays to have someone on Mission Control. "Thanks for the tip, Officer. I'll see what I can dig up. Out," I say, ending the connection.
I know what to look for now.
Timing is everything.
Trifecta had been lurking upstairs since before Leviathan had arrived at the building. Through a crack in one of the boarded-up windows, he had witnessed her arrival. With his ears, he had listened as she destroyed all of the drones on the first floor. And with the radio that had still been in his possession, he had eavesdropped on her messages back to the Police HQ, remaining completely still so as not to make his presence heard.
As soon as the transmission had ended, Trifecta was on the move. He trotted to the room where, just yesterday, he had blasted a hole through the ceiling as part of his distraction. The Torchounds he had brought with him gave him cursory glances, but ignored him otherwise; they were designed to recognize him as an ally, and to follow his orders if need be.
Gathering himself, he jumped as high as he could... and at the height of his jump, air bursts exited out of his armor's hooves and launched him higher. Catching himself on the roof and pulling himself up, he hustled over to one of the building's A/C units. It was part of the first wave of "modern" air conditioning, having been installed clear back when the Institute was built. Slightly more efficient units had been developed since then, but it would still do what Trifecta had in mind.
Making life in the Institute more comfortable wasn't the only thing this particular unit had been designed for, after all.
Trusting that the Torchounds he had stationed in Sub-Level #2 were still in position, he pried open the A/C unit's cover and got to work. All the while, Trifecta scanned the skies just in case any random pegasi noticed what he was doing. He would prefer not to harm any innocents, but if he had to choose between that and his allegiance to Cocoa Mocha, his reservations would just have to go.
Coffee was right. Now that I knew there was an extra floor, investigating the area near the stairs revealed the next flight going down. There wasn't anything to accessing it, just looking for another X-shaped crack and pressing against it until the wall slid aside. I suppose those who implemented it decided that if anyone was able to reach the basement at all, trying to mislead them further would've been pointless.
Turning the lights on reveals another hallway similar to the one over my head. This one feels a bit more homey, though I only have Drama's residence to go by for local standards. The floor's clean for the most part, and there are a few paintings and photos on the walls. One such painting at the end of the hall shows me a lightly-armored black alicorn sneering at something in the distance... it's a bit ostentatious, and it stands out compared to the relative cheerfulness of the other decorations.
Walking as quietly as I can, I open doors and look around as I go. There's no evidence of the pony I'm looking for, and checking the cabinets and desks within turns up nothing of note. The few pieces of paper and parchment scattered around don't have details that would help me or the Police any.
Would anything of import be kept in the upper stories? It doesn't feel like there would be. I was told that the building was abandoned, suggesting that the general public believes this. If the staff got in the habit of trying to sneak upstairs to store anything, they wouldn't be able to keep the secret forever. Those determined enough to investigate suspicious activity wouldn't be stopped for very long by locked doors or barred windows.
Trifecta might be hiding up there, though. I'll have to go back outside and get in through the windows if I want to find him. Annoying, but nothing I can do about that.
...
Last room on this side. Let's see what it's hiding, if any.
I turn the knob and push, but the door won't move more than a millimeter. Something inside the room is keeping it from opening. Knocking on it a handful of times in various places and listening for where any sounds are coming from... ...Here we are. There are locks near the bottom and top of the door.
Earlier, I had been concerned about causing damage to the building. This was in part because I didn't want to have to pay for anything I didn't need to. Now, I can rationalize what I did when I give my report to the Police: those responsible for the basement's construction likely didn't have the betterment of ponykind in mind.
So with this in mind, I place one hand near the top of the door and activate my ice generators. My plan here is to channel sub-zero temperatures through the wood and into whatever lock is being used, weakening both to the point where a strong enough shove will break the locks. The nice part is that at my best I can reduce temperatures to as low as -60°F, so even if the locks are made of cold-resistant metals, that's far more than the wood itself can take.
Somewhere and somewhen, a few are probably saying: "Why don't you just use that pointy stick of yours and slash down the door?", or "Why don't you just kick it down?". To which I respond: "Because I'm not a brute." There's always the possibility, however slim, that the door's destruction would damage something worthwhile within the room. The average pony's not going to use a harpoon gun to eat a standard lettuce leaf, is he? Well, I'm not going to use overwhelming force unless there are no other options, or if I have nothing to lose by doing so. I like using my brain.
Alright. Going to give these a few more seconds...
...and that's good enough. I turn the handle and push, this time applying a bit more strength. Once, twice, thrice, four times, five---
And there we go. Door's open, and the only parts of it damaged were where I worked my stuff. I see what's left of the locks get swept aside by the door as I enter.
This room is like most of the others on this side of the hall: a bed made for a full-grown pony, a small cabinet meant to hold personal effects or what have you, a wastebasket, desk, and a wall-mounted hook. Unlike the others, there are three additional items: an empty cardboard box, an old, threadbare lab coat hanging from the hook, and a box-like bed sized just right for somepony like Zig-Zag. There's a thick layer of dust on everything, which lends credence to my belief that this room has not been used in a very long time.
Note to self: go for a swim after I've finished with the traitor. I feel unclean just standing here.
There likely isn't going to be anything here that can help me, but I should at least check anyway. For all I know, a unicorn could've just magicked something out of sight. Since that was probably how they locked the door, I wouldn't put it past them.
Let's see, checking the desk... assorted writing supplies and a binder labeled 'D.Z.I. Regulations'. Ix-nay.
The wastebasket... empty. Don't know why I looked.
The cabinet... just a glasses case with nothing in it, along with the usual array of toiletries. And a ball of yarn, of all things.
Nothing hidden in the twin-sized bed... or full-sized, depending on your species.
That just leaves the new items. The lab coat has naught but a few paper clips, and the box just as barren. The child's bed, on the other hand, is concealing something beneath the mattress. This seems promising...
And I was right. There's a book here. This doesn't look like anything a foal would read: no pictures. The word "Journal" is stenciled across the cover plain as day. The pages seem to be in fairly good condition, surprisingly. The text is all in Equish, but the cursive is very messy: I can't read it. I suspect that if I took this to a pharmacy somewhere, I could probably get a prescription filled.
Now, this could have been written by the bed's former owner, but the feeling I'm getting from looking at the text is that it was hidden away for a reason. This room's the only one on this floor that was secured in any way, and the book's the only thing that stands out down here. The pony that locked up the room was trying to hide this for some reason. Why, I don't know, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me. If there's a simpler solution given the context, it's not coming to mind.
I don't have time to make sense of the book now, though. I'll wait until after Trifecta's apprehended.
...
...
You can still tell that somepony had been living and working here recently. As I walk, I'm detecting the exact combination of air particles that are synonymous with hair spray. As voluminous as most ponies' manes and tails are, it doesn't surprise me that they would want to keep them in pristine shape.
And having seen photos of Celestia, I won't try to imagine how much upkeep her mane requires.
Though it can't be normal for them to use this much hair spray, can it? There's enough of it in here that I could've choked on it—or poisoned myself, even—if I needed to breathe. Isn't the ventilation system supposed to deal with that? I can hear it working, so what's the problem?
I've been looking around the rest of the floor, not trying to find evidence against Trifecta but instead seeking out any surprises that might have been stashed down here. Beyond a nestful of those spider drones that required some fancy footwork to destroy—took long enough to find—there hasn't been much. What's your game here, rogue? If you're not going to populate the basement with those drones and overwhelm me with numbers, then why are you hiding instead of confronting me?
I stroll past a nice-looking mirror with an even nicer-looking reflection (if I do say so myself), pushing open a door and entering a decent-sized break room. As the door closes, I take in my surroundings. The room's big enough to hold a pair of circular tables with six chairs each, cabinets and a countertop that span an entire wall, and an icebox like the one Drama owns. Two more spiders and a newly-indentified Magifly are squatting in the room, but my Javelin takes umbrage with that and evicts them permanently before they can attack.
As the debris clatters against the tiled floor, I give the room one more glance before turning to leave---
What the...?
The rustling of wood and the clicking of metal against the floor is making me freeze up, and I slowly turn around. Three of those fire dogs are climbing out of the cabinets nearest the icebox, dislodging a few cans as they go. They line up next to each other and stare across the room at me. They're not moving or trying to attack. They're just staring.
I smirk at them. "You think you can take me? Go ahead on. It's your move."
Banter is wasted on the brainless. The dogs don't react to my words in any way other than their lifeless gazes continuing to bore into my consciousness. Even a few mechaniloids I know of would've taken the bait.
Well, alright. If you're not going to attack, I will! My Javelin points at them as I prepare to fire—
Caution: Flammable materials present.
Flammable? In here? If it was a furnace room or similar I'd be worried, but...
Wait. I know what my systems are warning me about. The scent of hair spray is just as heavy in here as it is elsewhere in the level. While it helps with beauty, it is also combustible. The canisters' standard printed warnings tell the user to keep away from high heat and flame.
And with a virtual mist in the room, if even one of those wolves decides to attack---
X help me, that spray couldn't have been here yesterday! There's no way Trifecta didn't know I was going to be the one sent after him! He planned this! No wonder the ventilation isn't working properly!
Okay, so maybe spelling out my weaknesses in that interview wasn't my best move, but come on—!
The drones have noticed my anxiety. Their eyes are developing a dim glow, which I'm taking as a danger sign. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare---!"
No time to destroy them before they fire, don't want to drop the journal and lose it in the explosion, just RUN! Out of my way, door! I don't have time to open you, so I'm going through you!
There's hissing above me. It's that same scent flooding into the hall from the air vent! Not safe yet, Levi, now GO!---
The room's walls are blown apart by the explosive conflagration, much like how I believe the drones were. Even without it directly touching me, being this close to a source of intense heat isn't helping my systems. More and more of the air lights up as the fire comes into contact with the spray. Move move move, stairs stairs stairs stairs stairs---!
The hall behind me is a sea of fire. My coolant is all but boiling as I jump up the stairs, clearing them five at a time as I hurry. I think this is the first time I've had to try outrunning a fireball instead of just dodging it! So help me, if I trip even once going up these blasted stairs---!
My radio crackles. -"Leviathan-are-you-picking-us-up? Come-in!"-
Part of me's happy to hear her voice. The rest of me isn't, and not just because she's talking so fast that her words are running together. "Officer Coffee!" I snap as I reach the next floor. "Whatever happened to radio silence?"
...What?! "When was this?! I've been scouring the basement this entire time!"
-"Just-a-minute-ago!"-
...Wait, so that would mean that they began torching the upper floors just before I discovered those fire-breathers...! "Trifecta's trying to bring this building down on my head and trap me in the flames!" I shout, channeling my power through the Javelin. And if they're banking on me burning to death before all the air runs out, they might actually do it unless I start getting creative! "Quiet a moment!"
Now that I'm not so focused on finding a way through like I was earlier, I can see a vent at the top of the passage. I have to focus a little to hear anything over the roar of flames, but it doesn't sound like it has started spitting out hair spray (another one for my list of strange sentences). I aim the Charged Slash at the vent and let it rip.
Good. There's a thick coating of ice particles covering most of that wall now. It's not going to last long with the incoming fire, but it will slow down the spread a little. That should be long enough for me to get out of here.
Though if the splintering overhead and the rise in temperature are any proof, admiring my handiwork right now would be a lethal idea. My mad dash continues as I resume funneling energy into the Javelin, spinning it one-handed as I go. Another door becomes a casualty of my boot in my haste to leave. I'm proven right an instant later as the ceiling in the room collapses, blockading the passage I'd just left with fire and debris.
The floor beneath me is warm, and the ceiling in the hall is becoming more unstable. My vision's tinted red from the "Danger: High Temperature" warnings that are blaring at me, but I force myself to ignore my discomfort. I hold the journal close to my chest and bring the Javelin down once more... though this time it's not a Charged Slash I'm unleashing, but the dragon-headed form of my Spirit of the Ocean. I jump onto its back as it materializes, coming mere centimeters from hitting my head on the ceiling, and point in the direction I'd entered the building from. "Fly!"
The construct doesn't need encouragement; it's not sapient, but it is just cognizant enough to know what needs to be done. With an icy howl it jets off down the corridor. When it reaches the bend in the hall, it smashes through the corners instead of properly navigating the turn. A section of the ceiling crashes down behind the Spirit, adding to the urgency I'm feeling. It's just enough to offset the tiredness I'm suffering from being in close proximity to the flames.
Recall that swimming pool I wished I had after I'd caught the thieves? I could really use it right now.
Two more wolves are blocking the exit. I don't care, just add them to the debris... though I will take that little crystal that the Spirit just sent flying into my teeth, thank you---!
My ride slams into the wood-and-glass doors at full throttle, shattering them into a thousand pieces; the Javelin is leveled so that the blade blocks anything from reaching my face, but from the looks of things the Spirit took the brunt of the damage. I leap off the dragon and direct it back into the burning building, letting it dissolve in the flames as I make a mad dash for the fence. One jump and I'm clear of the property, while another takes me clear of the road.
-"Leviathan?"- Coffee's voice calls in my ears as I slow to a stop. -"Leviathan!"-
"I'm... I'm alright," I try to assure her, leaning against the Javelin for support. I can hear the Officer who escorted me to the Institute rushing up to me, requesting his own status report. I watch as the building continues to go up in flames, thick smoke billowing from the windows; the stonework will survive, but the wood won't. Somewhere nearby, there are fire alarms ringing. "I think we can safely scratch one Institute. That building's going to be gutted before the locals can put it out."
-"What-happened-in-there?"-
"Let's just say," I answer after a deep breath (sort of), "that I'm very happy that I can keep my hair looking nice without any spray."
The Officer with me sniffs. "Huh. Explains why you smell like marmalade."
That's what that was? I wish our sense of smell had been more refined.
-"But-why-did... ohhh,"- Coffee realizes. Her voice slows down towards 'normal'. -"Right. Hair spray's flammable. Must have been a ton of it to get that kind of reaction. Have you apprehended Trifecta yet?"
"Not yet, but I did recover a bit of history from the lower levels before my escape. It doesn't have the look of anything recent." I hand the miraculously undamaged journal to my guide, who is regarding it curiously. "Can you make any sense of it?"
The Officer sits up and takes it in his hooves, looking it over and checking the first few pages. "'Property... of Juniper Leaf... YoC 964'," he reads, closing the journal. "Pretty sure that's what it says. The writing's some of the messiest I've seen. Reminds me of my doctor's."
Suppressing an amused snort, I repeat the words to Coffee. As I hear her scampering off to check the Police's archives, I run a quick scan to see how badly that fire affected me.
Coolant Levels: 88%. Please replenish at your earliest convenience.
Current Power Output: 79% of capacity.
Recommended Course of Action: You are tired. Take a rest.
Not as bad as it would've been if I'd been in the midst of the fire. Getting hit by one of Zero's Fire Chip-enhanced slashes has done worse. It's still something I wish I could have avoided, though. Trifecta's somewhere nearby, and I'll need all the energy I can spare.
There's a crowd trying to gather around the property, though they at least have enough good sense not to get too close: pony noses are fairly sensitive. Some of them are murmuring, wondering what I had to do with the burning Institute.
-"Alright, I've found something,"- Coffee speaks up. -"Juniper Leaf, born in YoC 937. Was arrested in 964 for multiple counts of illegal experimentation and being a willing party to a foalnapping. Pleaded guilty to all charges and was sentenced to 27 years, but was released on good behavior a few years early. Last check says that she's working as a babysitter to make ends meet."-
Was a willing party to a foalnapping... and she makes a living as a babysitter. There's something about this that doesn't make sense, and I think it's Equestria---
INCOMING CLASS-B THREAT!"Everypony, clear out of the way! NOW!" I warn, swinging the Javelin above and to my right.
A pony-shaped form strikes the flat side of the blade and rebounds off of it. The attacker alights on the road, six meters away from me. I meet his stare--or what I'm assuming is his stare--as my warning sinks into everypony's minds, 'encouraging' them to get away from the confrontation.
The armor Trifecta's wearing shimmers with a blue-green hue in the light. From the looks of things, it consists of several sets of overlapping scales that are straining my eyes just to view, and it covers everything between his neck and tail. There are some metallic pieces around the neck, chest, and hooves that offer proper protection, but otherwise his defense seems low. He has some goggles and a breath mask equipped to protect his face and conceal his visage, though his short mane remains visible.
A sealed cylindrical tank half the size of his torso is attached to his back. Even without the warnings buzzing, it doesn't take a genius to guess what's inside. Which makes me curious about something...
Before he can say anything, I raise a hand to stop him. A time and place for everything, yes, but this has to be answered now. "One question. Don't feel you have to answer this. Of all the things you could have tried to immolate me with, why did you choose hairspray?"
Trifecta's silent for about ten seconds. Just when I think he won't react, he finally shrugs minutely. "There wasn't any propane on-site," he explains, his speech muffled but understandable.
...Fair enough. He had to make do with what accessories he had available. I won't ask any more questions.
"In exchange, I'd like to ask a question of my own." Trifecta gestures at the journal that my guide's carrying a safe distance away. "Where did you find that book?"
"The locked room in Sub-Level #2," I answer without my hesitation. Not like it matters at this point: the room's probably in the same condition as the rest of the facility by now.
His headwear's making it very difficult to judge expressions, but his speech is doing a fine job of telling me his mood. "The one place I couldn't get into without making it obvious..." he's muttering. "More sleeping quarters?"
I nod, but offer him nothing else. In my peripheral vision, I see some pegasi moving clouds into position over the blaze. The distant rumble of fireponies galloping reaches me from down the road.
“Well, then. As if I needed another reason to destroy you.” He gestures at the street, and I move to the center of it obligingly. “My name is Trifecta, and before I take that book I'm going to reduce you to slag.”
“I'm single and uninterested,” I rebuff him.
“I can't tell if you're deliberately misinterpreting that word to get a rise out of me or not. Either way...” The muscles in his legs visibly tense, discernible even past the scales. “Burn.”
As the warning sirens signal the beginning of the battle, I don't waste time waiting for him to come to me. I go to him instead. Against somepony who knows what he's doing, trying to fight at range won't help me. If I'm going to claim a victory, then I'm going to have to use the same tactic that got me my few wins against Fefnir: get in close, strike, get away before he can pulverize me, repeat.
A meter appears on the right side of my HUD, and I get an answer as to what it's measuring when Trifecta raises his forelegs to block my first strike. That armor is more durable than it looks: the Javelin did what amounts to scratch damage against it. Yet it's still better than no damage, so I'll take it anyway--
Trifecta wins the brief struggle, slamming the Javelin against the road. One of his metal-covered hooves aims at me, and I'd be a fool to stand still--
My instincts save me as a gout of flame whooshes through the space I'd just been in. I dash-jump again, angling myself so that I'm charging towards him at his 8 o'clock. He predictably jumps out of the way, and I shift to a one-handed grip as I swipe at his breath mask with my free hand--
Ooh~. Surprises, surprises! Is that somepony ripping off my Double Jump that I'm seeing? ...Alright, “ripping off” is a stretch, since I doubt the armor was designed specifically to counter me, but this is still an incredible coincidence. Trifecta just did a little backwards flip in mid-air that took him away from my grasp, and I wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the buck to the back of my head (ow) that he delivered.
So, yes: I can confirm without a doubt that I shouldn't let trained earth ponies hit me againnnn---! Almost got burned there, he tried to ignite me before I could stand back up, managed to duck and roll out of the way and back onto my feet, move move move!
Fired off a few spearheads just now. They won't stall him for long, but they won't need to. Just need to keep him from turning me into a briquette!
That scaly armor's already demonstrated that trying to batter at it with the Javelin is going to be a waste of time. I'd get wreathed in flames long before I did any worthwhile damage. But what's going to happen if I attack the parts that aren't scaly?
As Trifecta's strikes smack the spearheads away, I dart in and swing at the metallic chest piece. He's not quick enough to evade, and the Javelin rips a gash right through it. I jump backwards away from his retaliatory swing while the entire suit roils, like the ocean beneath a steady breeze. The energy meter is outlined in green now, where previously it had lacked any sort of definition. Does that mean what I think it means?
I'm going to have to wait to see for myself; he didn't like me damaging his armor. Trifecta punches the air twice, three times: more fire exits his hooves, not as waves but as misshapen spheres. A simple matter to slash the fireballs into embers--
But while I'm doing so, Trifecta double-jumps into the air and slams his hooves together, pointing them at me. As my scanners warn me of a power buildup and everything from his shoulders forwards glows with an orange light, he speaks one word and one word only:
"INCINERATE."
A storm of flame, much like the one Leviathan had fled from within the Institute, bore down on her at speeds she couldn't escape from in time. A wail of agony, much like that of a pony's, tore through the air as the storm struck home. For a few moments, Trifecta lost sight of her within the fire as he landed a safe distance away.
I wish I didn't have to do that. My fuel tank was thoroughly exhausted from that stunt, and the suit's flare emitters are overheating. It'll be a few minutes before I can make use of either again... the tank's going to need time for the runes to refill it.
It's for the best. She was attacking too quickly, too aggressively. That 'Zero' fellow from the paper... how fast was he for her to have gotten accustomed to it? ... Meh, no point speculating. Even if she survives that attack, this will be enough to give me some breathing room--
No, it wasn't.
Leviathan shot forward, leaving the conflagration behind her. She was looking tired to be sure, and her body was scorched in more places than Trifecta could count, but she was both still active and nowhere close to giving up. And--
Why in blazes is she smiling---?!
Trifecta didn't waste any more time thinking, instead letting his combat training take over. With his ranged options temporarily exhausted, he ducked beneath a Javelin swing and went low, trying to sweep Leviathan off her feet with a kick. His movements were a hair slow (cursed age) and she easily evaded it with a backwards hop. The Javelin--which he finally noticed was glowing and making a strange sound--descended again, this time at an angle where he couldn't evade; he twisted into position to block it, much like he did at the start of the fight.
Unlike her first try, Leviathan had a Charged Slash backing up the impact. A shockwave of icy cold air completely enveloped Trifecta, searing everything that wasn't protected with a bone-deep chill. Giving in to instinct, he tried to shield the few parts of his head that didn't have any protection from the cold. The dragon scale mail that he wore shunted aside most of the blast, leaving him relatively unscathed.
But as soon as the first slash struck home, he knew that he'd lost this fight.
While he'd acted on instinct, Leviathan had acted on experience. Not waiting to see if he'd weather the attack, she did what Zero would have done and pressed the assault. Slash after strike rained down on him, keeping him from gathering his strength for jumping and systematically wearing down his armor. He tried his best to dodge and counterattack, but with the emitters in his armor's hooves still overheated, the mobility he loved was limited. He was able to connect with his attacks only once more before Leviathan's aggression fully paid off.
A Water Circle cleaved his fuel tank into pieces, scattering them about the road. The attachments around his neck and chest met the same fate, and the belt containing his backup Reddocite was slashed apart. With the embedded metal and their enchantments gone, Trifecta felt every hit dealt to him despite the scales themselves withstanding everything. He continued fighting, of course, but it was when Leviathan got a firm grip on his mask and goggles and tore them off his face that he was finally forced to admit that he'd been bested. He did not want to deal with the noxious odors caused by the fires he had started.
The former law enforcer and secret agent might have gone through a lot throughout his storied career, but never in his life had he gone up against somepony quite like the Siren General. From the opening charge to his final surrender, it took two minutes for the fight to run its course.
When Frame met Flame, I was able to stay intact... mostly. But that scream you heard? That was the sound of me experiencing my coolant being forcibly evaporated. If I hadn't found the strength to get away from it... well, the burns I'm sporting should give you a good idea. I'm counting myself fortunate that Trifecta only had enough fuel for one of those firestorms.
It probably says something about me that I still enjoyed that fight, as brief as it was. I know it's not healthy, but I just can't help myself. At least the cheering I'm hearing not far away is telling me that it was worth it.
As things stand, my levels are pretty close to the danger zone. I'm in no condition to continue battling, not after the dregs of my willpower just gave out. Not saying I didn't have to if I needed to: I just don't want to. Something that surfaced towards the end should be able to fix that, however. "Coffee?" I say, glaring at the subdued Trifecta to make sure he doesn't try anything. "The fight's done. Tell them they can send their squads to the Institute now. Over."
-"Roger that. Out."-
Forcing myself to stay standing, I drag myself over to where I saw a chunk of Reddocite go flying during my final series of attacks. I'm keeping my eyes and weapon trained on Trifecta the entire time. Even if he must be a walking bruise beneath his armor, I don't want to give him any opportunity to flee.
Picking up the ore, I take a few long steps away to keep its effects from restoring Trifecta's equipment. Satisfied that he's not going to escape and that he won't regain access to his arsenal, I crush the Reddocite in my hand.
I can feel my energy returning to me, my damage fixing itself, and my stores of coolant replenishing. It feels so, so wonderful. Have I ever said that before? I think I have. It can't be exaggerated enough: I needed that after what Trifecta did to it all---
-Analyzing data for Incineration Cannon. Auto-Repair Systems undergoing reconfiguration. Adapting weapon for current user. Estimated time: unknown. Please wait.-
...Huh? What's going on? My hands are tingling! "What's happening to me...?"
Trifecta's outwardly curious, but I ignore him. There's one more message incoming:
-Scanning... unable to absorb. Ability designated 'Double Jump' is already activated.-
...What.
...On Earth.
...Did you say? Care to run that last one by me again?
-Unable to absorb. Ability designated 'Double Jump' is already activated.-
That's what I thought you said.
"Leviathan?" I can dimly hear my guide calling out. Must be feeling brave enough to approach. "Why is your face turning red?"
His words are irrelevant.
Somewhere in Diarchs, a tea kettle whistled.
You mean to tell me that I didn't even need to set up that subroutine in the first place? That all I had to do was fight an opponent who had a similar ability?! That is pure nonsense! I wish I could have known that back when I first put it together! And why haven't I received anything like that from Phantom and the others?! Why wait until now?! I know I've sparred with them enough times!
-"I don't know, but whatever it is you have, wouldn't that be a good thing?"-
"Kya! Officer...!" Did Coffee just hear all of that? Please tell me she didn't!
-"You sound like somepony different when you're angry,"- she comments. -"What was that about?"-
A very slight scuffling sound reaches my ears. I point the Javelin in its direction, and the sound stops. "I'll tell you about it shortly." Coolant, get out of my face, get out. X in cyberspace, I can't believe I said all of that out loud.
I'm serious, though. I've taken part in my fair share of fights. I've won duels against Harpuia and Phantom, and as I said earlier, I've even managed a few very close victories over Fefnir. A couple times to keep my subordinates from getting too ornery, I've had to bring them low. Never once have I automatically learned a new skill or unlocked a new ability after a win.
So why start now? Why are mysteries being thrown at me?
...
You know what? I can work out my frustrations on something that's not going to break in a little while. I'll piece things together once I'm done being flummoxed by ever-loving magic.
While the blaze at the Institute is being contained--and after I extinguish the leftovers from Trifecta's attacks--the Royal Police show up to arrest him. All of them are either angry that they'd been working with a traitor, or distressed that somepony they'd been working with for years was never really on their side. One of them reads Trifecta his rights, slaps some cuffs on him, and loads him into one of the carriages to be taken back to Manehattan.
Instead of defeat, the expression on his face is one of defiance. It seems like he's going to fight this one to the bitter end. Maybe he's thinking that one of his co-conspirators will succeed where he failed and discover some way of killing me, or that the one who set all of this up will. I'm not sure.
They're not unbeatable. Unorthodox, yes, but they can be defeated. I've bested one of them in combat, and I'm fully recovered. It's time for me to move on to the next.
While some of the Police go about questioning the locals who witnessed our battle and collecting the destroyed armor pieces for evidence's sake, my guide from before walks up to me with the journal. "Excuse me, but I've been deciphering the writing since your battle ended..."
I nod at him in thanks. It beats having to do it myself. "And what did you discover?"
...
...
...
This... this explains so much. A little cliché, yes, but it all makes sense. Coffee, still listening in, agrees with me with a bit more surprise in her voice: unlike me, she didn't see it coming.
"So, what do you intend to do with this?" I ask my guide.
"Normally this would be taken back to the Station as evidence," he answers. "However, the case this pertains to has been closed for over thirty years."
-"That journal's author confessed her crimes long ago. There's nothing in that book that isn't already in the archives,"- Coffee adds. -"And from what Codger just told me, the victim's name was stricken from the records to protect their privacy."-
"Journals by and large are private affairs," the guide continues. "But given that there's nothing private in this book anymore..."
"Lend it to the one who needs this information most," I finish. "And trust that the right thing will be done."
"Exactly."
...
I offer a fistbump to my guide, which he accepts before turning to join the rest of his squad for the ride back to Manehattan. "Officer Coffee?" I speak, watching the weather team and fireponies at work. They have things under control here, so it's time for me to go. "I need information. As long as I'm on this side of the bridge, I'm going after that dragon."
-"Roger that, General."-
I have some irritation that needs to be expressed appropriately.
Knock knock knock.
Gray's ears twitched, and her eyes opened a sliver. She was greeted with nothing but darkness, her blankets hiding everything but her muzzle. Her forehead felt like it was burning. Wonder who that is...
The clip-clop of hooves walking across the floor, and the door opening. "Hello?" Ebony's voice was heard saying. "Can I help you?"
"Hello, young miss. Officer Spindle with the Royal Police. Is there a Mrs. Gray Ghost at home?"
"I'm sorry, but Mom's not feeling well today," Ebony answered politely but firmly. "Is it important?"
"In a way. I'm told you're acquainted with a 'Leviathan'?"
"Y-y-yes."
"She was doing some work for us this morning in Diarchs, and she discovered something to pass along to Gray. Something about a 'solved mystery', from what I'm told."
"Is... is that a journal?"
"Yes. I haven't read it myself. It's for her eyes only."
Hmm? What's-it? A journal?
"Alright. Sure, I can give it to Mom. Want something to drink? We don't have much, but I can make some cherryade."
"No, thanks. I'd better get back to my beat. Got to make sure nothing else crops up around here. Tell your Mom that we all wish her a speedy recovery."
"Thank you, sir. I will!"
The apartment door closed, and Ebony was heard relocating to the master bedroom. A moment later, the inquiry came: "Mom? Are you awake?"
"Technically, I'm a pony," Gray managed to groan.
There was a stretch of silence. "...Take that as an 'I'm awake', Eebon," Fiver murmured close by as she continued to play her games. "Stop making that face."
"Right, sorry. I have something here for you, Mom. Somepony from the Police left this here. Said that it was important that you look at it."
Gray reached out from under the covers, fumbling around. She was rewarded with the sensation of paper and cardboard against her hoof, and she dragged the item beneath the blankets. "Thanks, sweetheart. I've got to at least try to focus on something other than this stupid cold," she groused.
A few moments of silence. "...You might want to try moving the covers off your eyes," Fiver suggested only half-sarcastically.
"I knew that," Gray claimed with all the innocence of a foal who told their parents they're not stealing anything while their hoof was still in the cookie jar. She worked her head free from the blankets. "I was wondering why I couldn't see anything. Ebony, could you please go and make that cherryade so you all have something to drink at lunch?"
Ebony cheerfully agreed, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Gray raised her head so she could see Fiver past the edge of the bed. "Do you mind stepping out for a bit? I think I want some privacy for this."
"...Recover from your cold first," Fiver muttered. "...I'm not leaving."
"Fiver, I---" Gray whipped her head away, coughing. Once she was sure the fit was over, she turned to address her child again. "Look, if it's from the Police, I'm not going to want anypony else seeing it, alright? The last thing any of us need are gossipy hens not knowing when to stay quiet."
A soft sigh. "...Mom, think very carefully about what you just said."
Puzzled pony was puzzled. "Huh?"
A four of diamonds moved to a seven of spades, and the both of them to a ten of hearts. "...First, I can't see what you're reading from the floor. Second, even if I could, you have me confused for somepony who loves to talk."
Gray's addled mind took a little time to process that reminder. A hoof was massaging her forehead at the end of it. "Sometimes, I wonder how much you actually inherited from us."
"...Didn't Grandma and Grandpa say the same thing to you?"
A snort just as soft as her sigh. That runs in our family, at least.
Making herself comfortable as Fiver went back to her game, Gray took her first real look at the journal's cover. Property of... Juniper Leaf? Why does that name feel so familiar? She took note of the date. Year of Celestia 964...
Trepidation settled like a shroud over her. That was the year I started kindergarten. She remembered what she'd told Leviathan recently about her state of mind, and how it had been influencing her "from kindergarten on". And that Officer had mentioned a "solved mystery" in connection with this book that concerned her personally. Is... is this it? Am I finally going to get the answers I've been wanting?
Gray nosed open the journal to the first page, immersing herself in her reading material. She knew it was the only real way to find out for herself.
The filly that we've asked for has been delivered. She's old enough that in theory, the experiments won't have any adverse effects on her growth, while still young enough that she isn't fully aware of her circumstances. Best part is that she doesn't have her Cutie Mark yet, so whatever her talents will be won't be affected. She'll be perfect.
In addition to my current duties, I'll be seeing to it that all of her needs are cared for. Our boss was very clear on that. He said that if the experiments are successful but the filly is malnourished or unhappy, he'll be holding me directly responsible. As if that warning was even required. I've wanted to have a foal of my own for the longest time, so this will be good practice for me.
I've already gone ahead and set up a bed for her. With the locks I have installed on my door, she'll be able to sleep peacefully without outside disturbance. I'm glad they agreed to have those put there; I hate having ponies barge into my quarters when I'm trying to get my work done.
Additional entries will be made as time warrants.
Juniper Leaf Science Dept.
The filly received the first injection this morning, and was allowed to rest for a few hours. After she woke up, we had a good lunch and spent some time making sure she knew the Equish alphabet. She's adequate in that regard, but she can do better. She seems like a bright sort.
Her behavior showed a marked improvement from when she was brought in. At that point, she was remarkably squirmy and found it difficult to remain still. Now, she sits at attention and remains completely immobile when absorbing information. I was a bit anxious when this all started, but maybe it's looking like things will be alright after all...?
I just realized that I've never asked the filly for her name. I'll need to do that soon if I'm to take better care of her. I can't just keep calling her 'the filly' in these entries.
Juniper Leaf Science Dept.
Yesterday evening after dinner, the little filly received her second injection. The changes she's expected to undergo should be taking effect soon, if they haven't started already.
The strangest thing happened when I took her to breakfast this morning. There's a mirror in the hall near the break room. When we walked past it, she reacted like she'd just seen a Timberwolf. She jumped away a short distance, arched her back a little, and just glared at the mirror for a few moments. She then looked at me and asked who that strange pony was, like she'd never seen her own reflection before.
I'll need to ask my co-workers if they've seen her exhibiting unusual behavior.
Ah, yes. Almost slipped my mind: She trusts me enough that I was finally able to get her name. I'll be calling her "Gray" in all future entries.
Juniper Leaf Science Dept.
During today's meeting with the rest of the department, I asked my colleagues if they'd seen Gray behaving oddly during their studies. One of them answered that she seemed attracted to a stray box that was in his office, spending a lot of time resting and playing in it. This doesn't seem strange on the face of it: children have always had a lot of fun with boxes. What seems a trifle concerning is that she's choosing it over all the other toys that she's offered.
Another one said that he'd been writing a report to the higher-ups when Gray wandered into his office, climbed up onto his desk, and fell asleep right there on his papers. Cajoling and frustrated noises alike failed to budge her: she just opened her eyes and blearily stared at him without saying anything, yawned, then drifted off again. He was left with no choice but to call the department's other unicorn and get him to move her himself, since he was less likely to be moved by a cute face.
Neither of these things are typical foal-like behaviors. From what I understand, the experiments being done on her are supposed to make changes to her physical form while letting her keep her mental faculties. Was this something that she was prone to doing before she was abducted, or...?
Juniper Leaf Science Dept.
I can't hide this anymore. Gray's grown on me.
I went to collect her for breakfast and her final injection, and she acted like I was the greatest sight in the world to her. That upbeat smile of hers could light up Tartarus itself. It certainly lit me up: for a few moments, I forgot that she wasn't really my child. I don't think I've ever been happier to be called "Junie". It... it feels pretty nice.
The situation isn't progressing as well as it should be otherwise. She's thrilled with life, well-fed, full of energy and about as intelligent as foals her age are expected to be, but Gray has been showing next to no reaction to the drug. The only change that I could find was that a few of her teeth have shifted into over-pronounced canines. There has been nothing else to indicate that the drug is working as intended.
I have a theory as to what is happening, and I'm starting to feel sick thinking about it. Ending this entry now.
Juniper Leaf Science Dept.
It's been almost two weeks now. The experiment is a failure. The higher-ups will not be pleased.
Zoolinef did the exact opposite of what it was supposed to do. According to the specialists who created it, it is supposed to alter a pony's physical structure to make them more beast-like, enhancing all of their physical capabilities while making no real changes to their minds. All prior studies and tests have shown this to be the case, and it had been our collective hope that the first proper administration of it to a pony would bring the expected results.
It seems there was a one in a million possibility that we did not account for. You would think we would know better than to believe we have full control over ourselves by now, but it seems sometimes we need a reminder that no, we don't. Almost all of the changes that were made to Gray weren't in her body: they were in her mind. The only changes to her anatomy that I've found are to her teeth and her vocal cords. As I write this she's nestled up against me, purring like a kitten and idly swatting at a loose thread on my lab coat.
There's nothing to indicate that the changes will wear off over time, no signs of degradation. This behavior is going to stick with her for the rest of her life. I agreed to work in this department because I wanted to see if it was possible to turn ponies into animals. I did not join to make them think like animals. How in the world am I going to break this to Gray? Or her parents, should they find her? She's going to go through life thinking like a cat with everything that entails, without a clear understanding why, and I'm partially to blame for letting this happen to her. She's going to be ostracized and looked down on by everypony until the day she dies.
Celestia, I beg you to forgive me for my part in this. Nightmare Moon sure won't.
Juniper Leaf Science Dept.
I don't have much time.
The Royal Police have caught wind of the fact that the Institute was a front to hide our experiments. As I speak, they and the town's Guards have started to surround the building. It's only a matter of time before they discover the hidden passages downstairs. I have made the decision not to run from what I did, and as such, this will be my final entry. I'll have to hide this someplace so that nopony can find it.
Gray's been very tired today. She was running around the entire sub-basement playing, then she staggered to her favorite box and fell asleep in it. She doesn't know how close she is to freedom, to being reunited with the family she was taken from. I envy her a little.
It had been my hope that I could somehow reverse the damage to her mind before it was too late, but "too late" has arrived. There's nothing that can change her back to what she used to be. I just hope that she'll be able to have at least something resembling a happy life.
As for me, I'll be fortunate if I'm out of prison before retirement age. There's too much I've done in my pursuit of science that can be counted against me in court. I should never have let myself take part in these unethical practices. They have killed any chance I might have had of having a foal of my own. And because of my hesitation and fears, I can't even say six little words to the pony who needs to hear them most:
Gray didn't register Fiver's presence on the bed until she felt a tissue dabbing at her eyes. For some reason, everything was blurred. "...Mom?" her child's voice whispered. "...Why are you crying? Are you okay?"
"Tell..." Gray's breath caught in her throat momentarily, and she spent a few precious moments getting herself under control. When she finally spoke, her voice was unnaturally heavy. "Tell your siblings. We need to have a family meeting after Ocean gets home. There's... there's something important I need to tell you all about."
Fiver nodded minutely. "...Bad news?"
Sniffing, Gray closed the journal after determining that there was nothing else written in it. She smiled, partially to reassure Fiver as much as herself. "No, dear. It's just the best news ever."
I left Diarchs behind me a minute ago. The beach that Coffee is directing me to is about seven miles north of the bridge. There's a small village there that sees a massive influx of tourists every summer, becoming all but abandoned as the weather gets colder. I'm told the beach is appreciated for several things: the bright lights of Manehattan at night in the south, and the excellent view of the mountains to the north during the day.
My next target, Metallium, has decided that scaring away the locals is her idea of a good time: according to Coffee, she's already forced the tourists to flee. If my past encounter with Trifecta has told me anything, it's that she's luring me into a trap. There's no choice but to spring it if I'm going to subdue her, and it's going to be much more difficult if she turns out to be a fire-breather like I'm expecting. I'd better be ready.
Just one problem: I can't focus.
This is nonsense.
Pure and utter nonsense.
The tingling in my hands hasn't gone away. Instead, not only has it gotten worse, it's extended to my feet as well. Something's caused my auto-repair to go haywire. I mean, that has to be it, right? I felt a much more subdued sensation when it was repairing my frame, but I at least knew what was going on and could relax with that knowledge. Here, I'm not understanding what's happening.
Is it trying to build something? I don't see why it would. My auto-repair function was designed to fix and restore, not to construct something new entirely out of whole-cloth. That should be beyond the scope of its existence. For example, if one of my arms is mangled or otherwise crushed, the system would be able to return it to full functionality given enough time. But if the same arm is ripped off entirely, I would need my support staff and an array of technology to build and attach a new one.
A half mile north of the bridge, I drift to a stop. "Coffee, bear with me. I need to take a break. Over."
-"Something wrong?"- Coffee inquires, the transmission buzzing a little.
"My auto-repair's been rebelling since I used Trifecta's Reddocite sample. I don't know if there was anything unusual about it, but this is getting too distracting. If I go into battle like this, it's not going to help me survive."
-"Hopefully it won't take too long to stop,"- she says with some reluctance. -"Take what time you need, then get back to work, understand? Those in trouble can't wait."-
"I'll try to hurry. Out."
As I end the transmission, I come to rest on an underwater ledge. My hands and feet are all but vibrating. "Systems check!" I call, requesting the same internally. I need answers, and I need them NOW.
-Analysis of Incineration Cannon complete. Reconfiguration process interrupted; weapon incompatible with all hardware due to heat sensitivity. Altering process. Please wait...-
Magic, if that's you, stop doing this to me. In most cases I would never turn down a new ability, but this is still very suspicious. Was this something else that was hidden because of my altered blueprints? Why am I receiving something new, again? There should not be anything else that I'm capable of! It's defying everything that I should really be! I repeat, stop doing this to me!
-Systems drawing on donated schematics of genetic donor...-
"Genetic... ...!" It... it couldn't be... This can't be...!"X!"
-Scanning... 46%... 82%... 99%... ... ... ...-
Figures. It always has to sit on 99% for the longest time. I don't have all day here. Hurry it up, hurry it up!
-Done. Inner workings of Mega Buster Mark-17 compatible with hardware. Outer shell discarded. Variable Weapons System applied. Link established with CPU and applicable hardware. Eight slots available. Stand by...-
All of the tingling is finally dying down... and of their own volition, both palms are aiming outward. A shapeless mass of ice particles sprays from my hands, travels about four meters, and dissipates in the water. What the...
-Project short-ranged freezing mist through one or both hands. Cannot maintain cohesion past four meters. Can be charged for double the range and lower temperatures if Dry Ice Mode is functional; this function does not stack with the effects of Overdrive. Energy limit imposed to prevent overtaxing Energen and Ice Manipulation. One unit of energy per one second of usage; expenditure is doubled if both hands are used. Twenty-eight units total.-
-Depletion due to integration of Variable Weapons System noted. Energen Supply: 100%. Reserves: 98.6% --> 8.2%.-
...Heh...
Heh heh...
Eh-heh-heh hahaha...
...Why am I laughing? It's not even funny...
"X, you barely managed to help us in life. Are you trying to make up for it by helping me in death?"
I'm not really expecting a response to that question. X is a whole other universe away, consigned to his rest in the depths of Cyberspace. It still had to be asked, because it's something I'm wondering. I'm probably never going to get an answer to it.
Thinking about it, it strikes me that we knew very little about X. The real deal, that is, not the copy. I was familiar with the basic history I gave to the Minutes, but not much more. I only had one face-to-face interaction with him before he vanished from the scene, and it struck me just how sad he was. So very tired, like everything about life was pressing him into the ground. He couldn't even spare enough energy to be happy with the creation of his own 'children'.
Was he always like that during his life? I wish the four of us had been created during his heyday so that we could've seen it for ourselves. The world's paragon, looked up to by humans and Reploids alike, couldn't have been such a downer full-time. Surely he had to have enjoyed life to some degree. I know I did, despite my previously-discussed issues.
Heh... still, I could never hold it against you, 'father'. You had all of our best interests at heart in the end. I wish I could've gotten to know you, but for now I'm content with the knowledge that you tried your hardest. Sleep peacefully.
There's something in my eyes right now. I'm sure it's just seawater collecting there.
Focusing on the here and now, this "Variable Weapons System" is very interesting. It took one of Trifecta's attacks and turned it into something I can use, completely skipping any training I would need in order to create and learn to use my own facsimile. If my recent history is any proof, I'm going to be ending up with something from each opponent I'll be fighting today, and that's in addition to unlocking my hidden equipment.
I'm carrying literal history in my systems. X's creator installed this into him? Just what kind of person was he to have designed something like this? ... Well, whoever he was, he was a mad genius. When they built things in his day, they built them to last. Neo Arcadia's archives had said that X was able to copy his opponents' weapons, so this was how he must've done it. Sorry, Dr. Ciel, but if it was you who built that Copy, that element-switching system you gave him was just a poor man's imitation.
Enough pondering. Time to get back to work. "The situation has resolved itself, Officer," I say, reopening the transmission back to HQ. "Back on the clock. Got some new toys to play with, and I'm ready to put them to use. Over."
You can't mistake her curiosity for anything else. -"Spontaneously? Just like that?"-
I raise one of my hands before my eyes. Outwardly, it's not much to look at: five digits, palm, and white fabric. Inwardly---and I never thought I would say this, given my element---it's burning with an awesome power. "Yes. I still don't know if it was the Reddocite that did it or if another trigger was responsible, but I think I'm just now realizing what I can really do." And I'll have to send another letter to the Princess when I'm done. She's going to need updated on this.
A short silence. -"You can give us the details during your debriefing,"- Coffee decides. -"Now, any questions before you confront Metallium?"-
After some deliberation, a question comes to mind. "Does the Police have anything that'll let them contain a dragon? Once I defeat her, I'm not going to be able to guard her forever."
-"Sadly, no. There've been a few smaller dragons that have been sighted here and there, so there's been some debate as to what to do if they break the laws. However, nothing's cropped up where containment is concerned, and the dragons haven't been forthcoming with advice. For something of this threat level and size, we might have no choice but to get in contact with Canterlot and request that Princess Celestia send it back to the Dragon Lands with its tail between its legs. Over."-
Hmm... "On a related note, do you have any Dragonfire candles?"
-"Heard of them, but I've never seen one."-
Glad I didn't get my hopes up. "This should still work out. Dispatch the fastest courier you have to Canterlot with instructions to give a high-priority message to the Princess. Code words: Omega Zero Weil." I pause to spell out the fourth word to her. "I've been in contact with Canterlot often enough that the Princess will understand the meaning of them. Ensure that any other credentials that would be needed are utilized. Over."
-"...Alright,"- Coffee agrees after some deliberation with somepony I can't hear. -"Just bear in mind that reinforcements won't be quick. Even at full speed, it's not a short flight to Canterlot."-
"That's fine, I can wait. I'm probably going to be out of range while I'm at the village, so don't bother calling me. If you've got anypony free, you'll want them to go find a high point and keep a telescope trained on that beach. You don't want to be off-guard in the event that I lose." As if.
-"That was how we knew the dragon was there to start with,"- Coffee confirms. -"We'll keep on the watch."-
"Good. Then it's time I got to work. Commencing mission. Over and out."
With nothing else to say or do, I pour on the throttle and jet down the coastline. Wasting time is for those that have plenty of it to spare, and that's not me.
I'm not encountering any opposition on the way to the beach. All of the drones I've fought before are far ahead of their time, but it can be safe to assume that none of them are submersible. I guess they never thought to try and claim superiority over the seas, focusing on the land and air.
Is there sapient sea life here? Probably is, and if so, it shows that my foes have a long way to go.
I leap from the water, flipping in mid-air and executing a perfect landing on the beach. Completely pointless because there's nopony around to see it, but it's still fun, so there.
...Well, almost nopony. Or in this case, nodragon. At the edge of the beach near a three-story hotel--one of the nicest buildings I've personally seen since I arrived in this world--is the target I'm after. Metallium is reclining on her side, in the middle of chugging down a collection of assorted drinks. The ground next to her is littered with empty glasses, and there's something about this detail that's making me mad.
Though I guess she hasn't seen me yet after all... question mark? She's more interested in her drinks than in her surroundings. Full of herself, isn't she?
Metallium's lacking much of the armor that Trifecta had, being limited to a vest, bulky gauntlets, and goggles. Unlike the mole's, her goggles' lenses are translucent, allowing me to see her eyes. And I suppose she wouldn't need the armor, given that she seems to be fairly tanky. The briefing I received told me that her species was the source of that armor, so she's obviously going to be a juggernaut.
In short: play it smart.
My feelings on the battleground are conflicted. Plus side, it's adjacent to the water. Minus side... well, you already know my opinions on anything that makes me dirty. Fighting on the streets of the city is preferable to this. It's a bit annoying that I don't have any room to bargain, but I don't have any choice either. In the worst case scenario, I may require Drama's services again later.
A downtrodden stallion exits the hotel, a serving tray full of additional drinks on his back. He realizes I'm here, and his eyes widen; slowly, ever slowly, he backs off into the hotel again and shuts the door. Smart move there, mister.
Metallium tries to claim another drink in one of her massive hands, but finds nothing. Wondering why she hasn't received it, she looks up and spots me walking on in. She snorts disdainfully as I approach her, a little cloud of smoke rising from her nostrils. With a careless toss, she lets the glass she was drinking out of shatter against the hotel's exterior. "Just what I needed. Shish kebab waiting to happen."
"Dragon-flavored popsicle. My favorite," I retort, unfazed.
"Hmph. I don't get why they're all worried," Metallium muses aloud, standing upright. My initial guess was right: she's approximately twice Bossa Nova's size, not counting the long neck and head. "You'd barely warrant two mouthfuls, three at most. Though I would have to roast you first. Eating my prey live isn't good for my throat."
"Just to reiterate: I'm made of metal," I tell her, unimpressed as I ready myself for battle.
A wicked sneer and a mouthful of fangs, some of which I'd wager are as big as my head. "My race eats gemstones, robot. I'm not too worried about a bit of metal."
Okay, that's impressive. Morbid thought, but I wonder where ceratanium ranks on their scale. "Let's fix that, shall we?"
The dragon's tail whips against the sand repeatedly as she steps forward, meeting me halfway. An electrical humming surfaces within my hearing range as first her gauntlets, then her entire body, take on a blue-white shine. "Poor little thing. You can't fix what isn't broken."
Wings flapping, Metallium rises into the air... but instead of flying towards me, she twists and dives straight down through the ground. Electrical arcs trail behind her as she tunnels deep within, disappearing into the darkness. For someone her size, that's some decent speed she has.
She left an open invitation, but I'm not taking the bait. I stay on the beach and charge up for a Spirit of the Ocean, Javelin spinning---
I have a second's warning, and I accept it. I double-jump backwards away from the surfacing dragon and the eruption of debris, though a clod of dirt and sand still catches me in the face (yecch). At the same time, I release the Spirit and direct it straight at her.
Instead of burning it, Metallium takes a different tack. With a mighty swing, she decks the Spirit right on the nose with her gauntlet-covered fist. An electrical flash covers the distance between face and tail in a heartbeat, shattering the attack into fragments.
Only then does she open her mouth, putting her fiery breath on display. It's close, it's close... there. Almost got me, but I was able to dash away as soon as I landed. Good thing: those flames are ridiculously pink and ludicrously hot. They make Trifecta's improvised flamethrowers look like lighters: the space where I'd landed has just been glassed.
Yes, I know. The 'hot pink' joke wasn't funny the first time, though I will agree that too much of this is dangerous for my health.
I charge in and slash at Metallium's belly, evading the punch that she tries to counter me with. As expected, there's barely even a scratch left behind; the energy meter on my HUD twitches a little, but that's it. “Nice knife. Think I'll use it to eat my meals with,” she rumbles. Gathering her strength, she punches the ground to launch a wave of sand and debris at me.
The Javelin spins, the RPM high enough to keep the worst of it from hitting me. As the mess scatters, there's a rumbling beneath my feet... and by the time my vision clears, Metallium's vanished into another tunnel, the sand settling around it. Blast!
Well, best to keep on the move. I dart around the beach, altering my path every three seconds to try and keep her guessing. I crisscross my path multiple times, jump and double-jump all over the place. All the while, I can faintly hear the rumblings of her tunneling beneath the beach.
I alight on the sand, pivot and jump towards the ocean---
…
“ROAAAGGGHHHH!”
Point-blank roars are not fun to listen to, and having a dragon snag me out of the air as she explodes out of the ground is even less fun: one of Metallium's scaly hands just snared my right leg. How'd she keep track of me---?!
And then I'm rushing down to meet the sand. It reciprocates by delivering a gift basket straight to my face. Shoreline-flavored fruitcake, can't recommend.
I can feel Metallium pulling the Javelin out of my grip, prying it free with her superior strength and chucking it away. “Not going to phase me without your little toy,” she chortles, engulfing me with both hands.
Something crumples in my knee as she tightens her grip and SWEET CELESTIA THE PAIN! “That's right, scream for me. It'll just make my meal that much more delicious!" she cackles, raising me towards her mouth---
...
Time slows down as I shut off all non-vital functions, devoting everything I have to processing my situation. I've only got one chance at this: as I think, Metallium's fanged mouth is ever-so-slowly opening wide.
The Frost Javelin's some meters away out of reach. Most of my body is restrained by my enemy's grip, with my left knee partially caved in. Aside from my feet, head and right arm, I can't move.
Not for a moment do I believe I'm about to die, however. Because as I register that one of my arms is still free, two important details reach my mind. First, as the inside of Metallium's mouth becomes visible, it has become clear to me that her natural defenses do not exist inside of her body. Second, dragons are a reptilian species. Read: cold-blooded.
I don't know why she left that arm alone. Maybe it was to give me some false hope that I could pull myself free, or maybe she's just being negligent. Who knows? What I do know is that by doing so, she made a colossal mistake.
...
Time speeds back up to normal. Just as I enter Metallium's mouth but before she can seperate my head from my neck, I point my open palm straight down her throat and trigger X's legacy. The Variable Weapons System activates; with a thought, the Arctic Pulse sends its perpetual mist... -53°F, far as I can tell... down where it's supposed to go.
Metallium's response is immediate. The shock of the mist collecting on the inside of her neck causes her to almost blast my hearing out with a half-choked roar, and she tries to pull me away. "No no no, I'm not done," I declare, catching her tongue in my hand even as I continue my attack. "You wanted to eat me? You got it---and everything that goes with it!"
The dragon answers with a defiant growl, and a High Heat Warning flashes past my vision as she readies her flame breath. Trying to melt me before I can finish this, I'm assuming? Time for something a bit more audacious, then.
In its struggle to free itself, the tip of her tongue twitches near my face; with just a moment of hesitation at how disgusting doing so would be, I open my mouth and chomp down on it---
Well, if that last roar almost deafened me, this one's threatening to rip the plates right off my temples. The buildup of flames ceases for a moment, more than enough for the Arctic Pulse to make some progress in its mission. I let go of Metallium's tongue, spitting something nasty at the side of her mouth; at the same time, her hold on me slackens as the icy cold starts to take effect. I take advantage of this to yank my other arm free of its restraint and pull myself farther in, jamming my hand into her throat. "One dragon-flavored popsicle, coming right up!"
Not the best thing I could've done. I'm still registering High Heat Warnings, despite the lack of fire; it's like a furnace in here, and my arm and coolant are both suffering for it. In addition, now that I'm not holding onto her tongue, the dragon's trying to pull me out entirely. To mitigate this, I aim my free hand at the roof of Metallium's mouth and let it rip with a dual Pulse blast.
This does the trick. Two energy meters on my HUD are rapidly dropping: one representing the Arctic Pulse's power supply, and the other Metallium's willingness to fight. The second outspeeds the first, hitting its limits just before I'm no longer able to sustain my attack.
Metallium continues to struggle, trying to remove me before my actions catch up to her, but it's no use. "You're... cra...zy..." she manages to hiss as her grip becomes increasingly weaker, lethargy brought on by the encroaching cold overcoming her as she lets go of me. With a thud that shakes the ground and whips up a short-lived sand cloud, she topples over backwards and collapses; I'm able to yank my half-melted arm out of her mouth and jump away as she does so, landing awkwardly on my good leg.
Crazy, huh?
High in the sky flies a crimson comet in her mind's eye. It bounds from airship to airship in an attempt to reach and disarm a bomb that would put an end to the feeble Resistance...
I grant her the dignity of a smug little smile as her eyes close. "I learned from the best."
It took some searching, but I was able to find the Reddocite that Metallium had stashed away inside one of her gauntlets. I crush it in my good hand, savoring the sensations brought on by my everything being rejuvenated. The pain leaves my leg as I'm able to stand on it again, and the arm that I'd sacrificed to Metallium's maw returns to its original shape and composition. I tighten my hand a few times to reassure myself that all the connections are there.
No sand in my frame, either, I note as I retrieve the Javelin. Bonus.
-Scanning...-
There we go. I was wondering what was keeping it.
-Password broken. Subsurface Radar operational. Scan surroundings in a fifty-kilometer radius around the user in order to track points of interest and enemy targets. Most effective underwater, but can be used above ground with vastly decreased range.-
That settles that. The subroutine I'd created to break the protection is officially obsolete. Oh, well; it still served its purpose. I'm not going to waste further time whining about it.
Now, let's give this a test. Given that this must have been how Metallium was able to track me through solid ground, I should be able to see through walls and such with this. Activating...
...
My surroundings become obscured. Everything solid and inanimate shows up as dark outlines without any real detail. I let my eyes wander over Metallium for a moment; her own outline shifts more towards red-white.
I'm picking up some movement from the village: the residents are coming out of hiding to investigate. All of their outlines are speckled with green, which I can only assume indicates that they're friendlies. A further examination shows me upwards of three hundred of these outlines, which I believe constitutes the village's entire population. I turn my head towards the ocean, but the outlines don't truly go away: it's like I can see them behind me no matter where I'm facing.
Excellent. The Radar's working as advertised. I switch it off, and my vision returns to normal---
-Analyzing Heavy Sandhog...-
-Scanning... 12%... 36%... 71%... 89%... Done.-
"Wha...!"
Why is my own weapon yanking me off my feet? Why am I being thrown forward? Why is the spearhead spinning like a demented drill---... ...oh. And also an 'rrgh' because the Javelin stopped and dropped me in the sand, but mostly 'oh'. Okay, I get that it had to demonstrate to me what I just picked up, but why couldn't I have obtained something like those electrical gauntlets instead? Flash-freezing targets with my fists sounds like it would've been fun.
-Reconfiguration Complete. EX Skill gained: Permafrost Squirrel.-
I spit out a bit of sand and stand back up. The names on these things... is my CPU just randomly picking terms out of a dictionary that remotely apply to the situation? At least "Arctic Pulse" was within believable bounds; this one's stretching it too far. Well, I guess they can't all be winners, I say to myself, sighing.
-Temporarily converts Frost Javelin into a high-speed drill. Good for short-range tunneling or surprise attacks. Can not damage titanium alloys, diamonds, or other substances harder than either unless Overdrive is active. Maximum distance: eight meters. Seven units of energy per usage. Twenty-eight units total.-
Not something I can use repeatedly, then. I'm getting the impression that it's highly situational, and that despite its description it's not really meant to be used for attacks. Maybe as a shield breaker of sorts?...
"Excuse me, Miss Fairy?"
I'm interrupted by the pony who'd been serving Metallium out of duress. He seems anxious. "Yes?"
"I'm... I'm sure you're busy, but... would you care for a free sample?" he asks, offering me a little drinking cup filled with a lime greenish-brown liquid. The cup's small enough that I can hold it between my thumb and index finger.
Half of me's saying that I should let him down easy and tell him that I wouldn't be able to taste it even if I wanted to. The other half's telling me to humor him and drink it down anyway. The latter half wins out, I bring the cup to my mouth---
"MMPH!"
---and I stumble as a familiar kick hits me. My Energen reserves are increasing from the 8.2% I'd started the fight with up to 12.2%. What the---?!
"Miss Fairy!" the worker exclaims, concerned. "Are you alright? What happened? Does it taste bad?"
"No no no, it's not that," I hastily reassure him, straightening. "It's that I can even taste it to begin with! What's in this?"
"Oh. Um... I pulverised one of those little Heartbreaker candies and mixed it into some fruit juice," he explains. "My boss came up with the idea after reading that report about you."
So it's essentially liquid Energen. Talk about novelties. "Hmm... well, if you want my personal opinion, I suggest offering warnings on the sugar content," I tell him as I give the cup back. "There's such a thing as too much of it, after all. Even for ponies. Other than that, I have no problems with it."
"Th-thank you! I'll let my boss know immediately!" he proclaims with relief, taking the empty cup and galloping into the hotel with it.
I probably should have asked if he had any more. My food supply's in my purse back at the Pyre. And was that 'thank you' for the suggestion, or for saving his village from Metallium? ...
Well, what's done is done. I'd better make sure the dragon doesn't wake up until reinforcements arrive, and destroy the equipment she was using. That chill she's experiencing isn't going to last forever.
...
'Nearly eaten by a dragon'. Add this to the list of "Things I'm Never Talking About When I Return Home".
Almost two hours later...
...
None of the locals aside from that hotel employee have approached me since the battle ended, though they're cautiously starting to go about their business again. If they're waiting for the dragon to leave, they're just going to have to be patient a little bit. My help hasn't gotten here yet.
Though if they're really wanting to get those tunnels filled in, I can understand a little bit better. Tourism is their lifeblood during the summer, and any breaks in the routine would likely make their lives more difficult.
I've been periodically applying an ice layer to Metallium to keep her under. After the first time, I hurried to the ocean to take a quick swim. I was in a dragon's mouth, viewers, with everything that entails. If there was anything left on me after the Reddocite was finished putting me back together, I wanted it as far away from me as possible.
...
A pop of air and a pair of groans attract my attention as I reapply Metallium's coat for the seventh time. Wrapping up that bit of business, turning to see who's here---
DESTRUCTION IN PONY FORM."Kyaaa!" The Javelin almost goes flying out of my hands in my haste to acknowledge Equestria's ruler. I secure my hold on it, straighten, and salute the Princess appropriately. "Your Highness!"
Photographs do not do this pony justice. If you count her horn, Celestia's taller than I am. And that mane... I've known a few humans who would've willingly died if it meant getting hair like that. Ponies could've probably taken naps using that mane for a blanket, provided it stopped moving. And if you want to talk about pure beauty in a physical sense, you can begin and end your discussion with her.
Still, my HUD's right to label Celestia a Class-S threat, even if she's technically a 'friendly'. Never in my life have I ever been in the presence of someone with this much power. My prior experiences have done nothing to prepare me for the anxiety I'm feeling right now. If she ever snapped... I don't even want to imagine it.
Celestia's chuckling. About what, I don't know. "Private citizen or not, you aren't one of my subjects. Calm down, Leviathan."
I have to shut off the alert twice before my system gets the message. Relax, girl, relax. She's more or less on eye level with you, so just act naturally. "Sorry. I just wasn't expecting you to arrive like you did. Did you teleport all the way here?"
"I had help," Celestia corrects me vaguely, not saying any further than that on the topic. Alright, so I imagine arriving here like she did with passengers would probably be energy-intensive, but it's going to bother me not knowing just how she circumvented that.
Speaking of passengers, I turn to inquire of the two ponies that are with her. "And dare I ask how you two are involved in this? I thought you were helping fix the jail."
Gargoyle and Knight, who are both wearing bands in the Royal Police's colors over their prison uniforms, look at each other questioningly. The latter finally shrugs and answers me. "The Police's best fliers are all either incapacitated or busy. Their chief told us that if we flew straight to Canterlot to give her Highness your message, they'd see what they could do about getting our sentences reduced in court. Like swapping prison time for community service, some of both, or whatever."
"While if we made a break for it, we'd be wanted mares all across Equestria," Gargoyle added, ears turned down. "We'd never be able to set hoof anywhere again."
"Essentially you're 'boxed crooks', as the expression goes," I note, to which they nod.
"You can imagine the stir they caused when they all but crashed into the gates," Celestia tells me. "I wasn't sure what to make of their presence at first, but when they told of the dragon causing trouble for my little ponies, I knew I couldn't afford to dismiss them." She smiles and gestures at Metallium. "On that note, I thank you for keeping her occupied until my arrival. I hope she didn't cause you too much trouble."
Oh, sure. She didn't cause me trouble. Only cost me an arm. I don't say any of that aloud: I'm not that casual. "I had a bit of difficulty, but I got creative."
Knight sniffs the air a bit, nose crinkling in disgust. "What's that smell? Kind of smells like sulfur."
Celestia does the same, her serene expression giving way to confusion and worry. "Leviathan, did you... almost get eaten?"
My face pays my hand another visit. Curses. "I was hoping nopony would notice that. It gave me the opening I needed to bring her down, but... yes. Yes, I almost was."
Celestia doesn't think so, her voice becoming regretful. "I'm terribly sorry that you had to put yourself through that for my ponies' sake, Leviathan."
My heads shakes slightly. "I might not like have liked being in that cavern, but I don't mind doing what needs to be done, Princess. You don't need to worry about me."
"All the same, I feel like some sort of repayment is in order," Celestia tells me. "Presumably you are getting payment from the Royal Police for your services..." I nod at this, and she continues. "...but that's not enough. Not after you almost got yourself killed." She beckons me forward, almost like she wants to...
...to...
... ... "Princess, I don't know where to begin explaining the breaches of etiquette that would require," I weakly complain, taking a step back while being mindful of where Metallium's tunnels are. I discreetly activate the Subsurface Radar for a moment: there's plenty of on-lookers close enough to see and hear everything, and I think some are whispering to themselves judging by their mouth movements. "Never mind the news headlines that would result."
"Skies above, I think I actually agree with her on this," Gargoyle murmurs, wide-eyed as she realizes what Celestia was planning on doing. "We're talking a nation-wide scandal here."
"Would be unprecedented for sure," Knight agrees with the same face. "Front page news on every paper. 'Equestria's Ruler Hugs Space Alien'."
"Maybe," Celestia affirms, looking me directly in the eyes. I would have to be blind to miss the sorrow reflected in those pupils. "But like you, Leviathan, I've taken part in my share of battles. I've seen war with my own eyes. I've always hated taking the lives of others, and each one that has died on my watch hits me right here." She taps her chestpiece for emphasis. "I still remember the names and likenesses of all who have given their lives for me.
"How many times did I seek out comfort in the wake of a tragedy, only to be forced to stay strong in the eyes of my subjects? To be seen as a pillar of support, galvanizing my forces with my presence alone but rarely, if ever, receiving support in return? With that in mind... can you honestly say that you never wanted a shoulder to lean on, with everything you've seen in your life?"
...!
"...Forgive my profanity, but Tartarus on a cupcake," Knight breathes, awestruck. "Princess..."
My eyes close, and my weapon disappears. "You have a way with words, Celestia. You just answered a question that's been bothering me for a little while." If this is the sort of situation he lived through, with his friends and allies either disappearing or dying, then it's no wonder X looked so depressed my first day alive... My eyes reopen a sliver, and I see nothing but sand. "But I guess I should still ask if it's really okay for me to do this."
Celestia's mood lightens, and she chuckles. "Then I'll have you know that in Equestria, it's perfectly legal to hug a Princess."
"Wait, what?" Gargoyle blurts out, echoing my thoughts. "Seriously?"
"I am not kidding."
... ... ... You know what? Why not?
...
"The Princess intended that speech for me," I complain to the two who've joined the embrace.
"'Thief' and 'Monster' are mutually exclusive terms," is Knight's rebuttal. "We still have our empathy, so take the stupid hug."
Gargoyle has something else on her mind. "Did you know you're really warm for somepony made of metal?"
Celestia, please stop laughing.
-"Agent #2. Are you receiving?"-
"Voice is crackling like dry leaves, but I have you. Any problems, Mr. Ignition?"
-"Trifecta and Metallium have failed to signal us since they left. Leviathan has subdued them."-
"Hm. And you feel that the robot is after either me or #4 next?"
-"Correct. Are you ready?"-
Glintlock tilted his hat, a smirk on his beak. "Ask a cliché if it's overused. I'll signal you by three o'clock."
Ending the connection, the griffon hunter sat back on his branch and reached for the guitar he'd taken with him from his guest suite. Belly's full, there's not a cloud in the sky, and by day's end I'll have gotten the hunt I've been wanting for years. Today's shaping up to be a fine day.
For a dragon that was frozen from the inside out, then kept in ice-induced torpor for hours afterward, waking up was hard to do. It took about six minutes after the final ice coat dissolved before Metallium regained awareness of her surroundings. She grumbled to herself a little as she recalled what had happened in her last few minutes of wakefulness. Insane little chew-toy, deliberately letting itself get eaten just so it can attack my weak points...
It didn't take long for her to realize that her equipment was gone: the minor weights on her hands were non-existent, as were the light armor and goggles she'd worn on the job. Which means...
"Hey, y'all?" a familiar voice spoke up. "Scaly's waking up."
A slightly louder grumble. No point in hiding it now, Metallium thought, opening her eyes and pushing herself upright. She gazed down at those before her: two pegasi in prison garb, whom she recalled had been given the opportunity to escape with their leaders; the insane robot herself, fully repaired and weapon held at the ready---
Serve me to a roc on a silver platter...
---and Princess Celestia, the ultimate target of Mr. Mocha's ideals, the full power of the sun she controlled barely contained behind her eyes. Metallium, who had all of her species' pride in their power and superiority, felt a little bit smaller meeting that irate gaze.
"You know who I am," the alicorn stated succinctly, "and you know why I am here. I do not take threats against Equestria lightly. Leave immediately, unless you want me to drag you out myself."
For a moment, Metallium was tempted to do just that and flee for home. There were several thoughts that stopped her from doing so immediately, though.
While her boss was surprisingly lenient when it came to failure, he was depending on her for a fair number of things. Letting him down was the last thing she ever wanted to do, and by not destroying the robot, she had done it. She genuinely liked and respected Mr. Mocha, not only because he was capable of besting her in a fight, but because he wasn't as soft-hearted as most of his kind. Disappointing him... she intensely hated the thought of it.
"That's why the sun rises and sets? Because of a single pony?"
"Oh, yes. That party hat on her forehead lights up and sends that pretty candle there up and down, up and down, like the world's biggest bandalore."
"I don't know what that is."
"Forget it. You understand what I'm talking about."
"Yes. It's crazy, but as long as it works..."
"It might not work for too much longer, my dear Metallium."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that Celestia has been around for a long, long time. Older than you. Older than me. Older, perhaps, than that young'un Torch..."
"Wow, that is old. ... Don't tell him I said that."
"My point is that alicorns age like you and I. And as they age, the same problems that everypony will eventually face reaches them too. Senility. Pain. Deterioriation. A loss of control. And with that in mind, what do you think will happen when her control of the sun inevitably slips?"
"...Roast us all alive...!"
"Or incinerate us all dead. Either or. All the heat and fire resistance in the world won't save a dragon from that. The reverse is true, too: imagine what would happen if the sun drifted away."
"...!"
"I see you're thinking it. A sharp drop in temperature spanning seconds. No more sunlight, no more warmth. An ice age that the world has never seen, killing everything. Plants, animals, sapient life of all races. Complete and total extinction."
"...Why hasn't anything been done about this? If she's not immortal, then...!"
"There is hope, Metallium. For centuries, experiments have been carried out across my entire family line. For many generations, my ancestors dedicated their time towards research and experimentation, determining a method of raising and lowering the celestial bodies that does not require a lone pony. I have continued their work, their designs..."
"I'm not sure I like that look you've got in your eyes, Cocoa."
"...But like every good researcher, I require assistance from without. When the time comes to introduce the final product, there is a good chance---yes, even a reasonably moderate chance---that the Princess will not take kindly to it. She will see the future and fight against it. So as a side project, I am developing what history will proclaim as the greatest armor ever created. That is where you come in, should you be interested."
"You're a crazy pony for talking to me like this. ...Tell me more."
The memories of her past experiences with Mr. Mocha returned to the forefront. At the time, his conversations with her had made sense. Everything and everypony had their end, and Celestia was no different. Mocha was capable of seeing the bigger picture, and he was in the middle of supplanting the Princess as the one who would raise the sun. She wanted to be able to see it done, even after he transferred control of his plans to the one replacing him.
And with that, Metallium's draconic pride and confidence resurfaced. She noted Celestia's visibly growing impatience, giving her a sneer in return. "I am not leaving until I have had my chance to deliver an ultimatum, Princess," she growled. "Did you think I came here just to torment these runts? There's more to it than---"
But that was as far as she was able to get before her body started glowing orange... and a sharp tingling struck every scale dead-center, driving her to distraction. With a snarl, Metallium furiously scratched at her arms to try and give herself some relief from the rash she'd been mysteriously inflicted with. "What---?!"
Celestia had the gall to chuckle at this. "You may want to obey that call, hatchling," she 'suggested'. "It's not a good idea to keep the Dragon Lord waiting."
Metallium tried to glare at Celestia, but it was a glare with little force behind it. The persistent rash was partially responsible. "How do you know that?!"
"You are not the first dragon I've interacted with," Celestia stated, her voice filling with authority. "I have had my share of altercations with them in the distant past. I know what a personal summons to the Dragon Lands looks like." She shook her head, her wings flaring outward. "I care not for why you are deliberately endangering my little ponies, only that you are. Return to your home and don't disturb my subjects anymore."
"At the very least let me deliver my message!" Metallium protested. Inwardly, she winced: her voice wasn't supposed to sound that whiny. She guessed she had more in common with her big brother than she thought. "Seriously, it won't take more than a minute!"
"...Be quick about it," Celestia acquiesced, wings closing.
Taking the opportunity, Metallium spelled out for her what Mr. Mocha had told the dragon. She did not say who had informed her of such, only that her days and Equestria's were numbered if she didn't watch her control of the sun and moon.
...
"Duly noted," the Princess said after a few beats, unmoved by the dragon's statements. "Now leave, please. I will not ask nicely again."
She's not going to listen, Metallium griped internally. That apathy's all over her face. She huffed, a cloud of smoke vacating her nostrils. Forgive me, boss, but I'm afraid my loyalties to you have to play second fiddle to another. I've done my part the best I could.
Left with nothing else to try to accomplish, she went airborne. Ignoring the robot's complaints at getting smacked with a cloud of sand, she took off for home as fast as she could. She had the feeling that the reception she would receive when she returned to the Dragon Lands was going to be far from pleasant.
I watch as Metallium flies off into the distance at speeds I didn't think were possible for dragons. I keep my eyes trained on her departing form to make sure she isn't going to buzz Manehattan on the way out, and I put my weapon away when she's out of view. "She just had to get that parting shot off," I observe, wiping some sand off my sleeves.
"Good riddance," Gargoyle states, glaring at the horizon. "Dragons will always be bad news."
"What a total load of... sediment," Knight says, interrupting herself in time when she remembers that Celestia is present. "I don't know how she came to the conclusion that the Princess might lose control of the sun, but she's clearly lost her marbles."
"That would imply she had marbles to begin with," I tell her, shuddering as I remember how close I came to being eaten.
Knight rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she declares. "My point is that she is not so weak and feeble-minded that a fact of life is going to come crashing down on our heads! She's doesn't have to do anything!"
"She wasn't wrong, Ms. Knight."
That leaves all three of us blinking, and we turns towards Celestia as one. "She isn't?" I ask for the lack of anything more eloquent to say.
"To be more specific, she wasn't wrong about me needing to relinquish control of the sun and moon. She is not correct about my age being a determining factor. Rest assured that I do have a contingency plan where the moon is concerned." Her eyes and voice soften for a few seconds as she states that last bit. "And I do wish to safely give control of the sun to another someday, but it's going to be for reasons of my own, and at a time of my own choosing. Just as violence isn't going to make me change my mind, neither is my control in any danger of disintegrating."
"..."
Celestia regards me with concern. "You have the look of somepony with a lot on their mind, Fairy. Do you feel like sharing?"
I take a moment to think of an answer. In the background, the residents are coming out of hiding. "I'm just thinking about a major difference between your world and mine, Princess. Back home, the sun doesn't orbit the planet. It's the other way around." I ignore Gargoyle's quietly muttered curiosity and continue on. "We don't have to worry about the world and the sun having a collision, because the planet's already in a natural orbit. Here, everything's contingent on the actions of one individual. It's sobering to think about..."
"Looking at it that way, I can understand your apprehension..." Celestia starts to say, probably just as curious as the thieves but not saying it aloud.
"...and it lends credence to my belief that everypony in this world is off their rocker," I finish.
Gargoyle and Knight both stumble at hearing this. The Princess chuckles, unphased by my honesty. "You're not wrong, either. It feels like that sometimes, doesn't it?"
I can't resist smiling playfully. "Speaking from experience, Your Highness?"
She returns it. "Like you wouldn't believe." Celestia looks up at the incoming locals, all of whom have reverence or awe in their eyes. "I'm sure you have plenty of work to do, Fairy, so I won't keep you any further." The presence of Metallium's tunnels isn't lost on her. "As it happens, I have business of my own to attend to here. It'll be some time before my chariot catches up to me." A smile. "We can talk more about the differences between our worlds later."
I give a short bow. "That should be fun."
She nods, first at me and then at the inmates. In what is a clear dismissal, she steps away to address the town's citizens directly.
We haven't shot straight back to the city just yet. Instead, we're seated at a small lunch area within the hotel. I wanted to get to work capturing that griffon hunter, but the staff stopped us and requested that they treat us for helping stop the dragon. The two thieves agreed to this before I could say anything, saying that flying cross-country at top speeds requires a lot of energy. Even now, they're in the middle of scarfing down pasta-and-potato sandwiches on sourdough bread, with a few glasses of water for hydration.
"...What are you looking at?" Gargoyle had snarled when she noticed my curiosity. "If you burn a lot of energy, you don't make compromises on nutrition."
"They aren't for everypony," Knight added in-between mouthfuls. "Just those who like to carbo-load. If you get plenty of exercise, it all works out. And hey, sourdough bread is delicious. Bonus."
'Exercise', 'works out'... I used to think my jokes were bad.
Most everypony is distracted by the alicorn on the beach, leaving me alone with the thieves. I'm taking light---very light---sips from another one of those little Heartbreaker-flavored drinks, watching them closely to make sure they don't try to run. They don't seem eager to, though; if anything, it looks like they have something on their minds.
The two of them finish their meals at about the same time and push their plates aside. "Are you done delaying?" I tell them as I put my own cup down. "Lingering around here isn't going to make your cells go away."
The pegasi have an unspoken conversation consisting entirely of eye movements. That by itself seems suspicious, but by watching them closely I can determine that they aren't going to take violent action. "About that..." Knight brings up with obvious reservations. "We'd like to help you with your current situation."
...?! "Caught me off guard there," I flatly admit. "You said you of all ponies want to help me?"
"Are you hard of hearing?" Gargoyle replies in the same tone.
"You're not in any position to negotiate on this," I remind them. "And even if you were, I don't believe you wouldn't take advantage of this for personal gain."
"Look, robot. As we said earlier, just because we're thieves doesn't mean we don't care." Knight hovers up to eye level, her forelegs folded. I will never cease to be amazed at her species' anatomy. "Manehattan is our home. We have nothing to gain by all of this ruckus going on. It may even make our lives worse, for all we know. Even if you think we're just being pragmatic..." A pause. "Um... I think that's the right word. Anyway, even if only that, it still means that we all want the same thing."
"Do recall that I threatened you both with wing removal when we first met," I respond after a second.
"And you already apologized for that," Gargoyle answered immediately. "I didn't think about it at the time, but what kind of self-admitted killer robot would humble itself before wanted criminals?"
"That's what anypony would call 'hidden depths'," Knight adds. "You've got heart. You're just not very good at showing it."
...Are they trying to compliment me or insult me? There's evidence for both.
Gargoyle takes my silence as an excuse to keep talking. "That aside, what matters is that we want to help. Would you at least give us a chance? Please?"
I don't know about this...
I'm wary about accepting their help. We didn't meet on friendly terms, and until they complete their sentence---whatever that may be---they're on the opposite side of the law. If I'm being honest, I don't trust them. How committed are they to proving themselves? "I'll need some background and credentials from the both of you," I say, which causes them both to look hopeful. "Any particular strengths you have, why you chose a life of crime, that sort of thing. Be completely honest." I gesture at the blonde-and-white-maned one. "Gargoyle, we'll start with you."
While Knight sits back down, Gargoyle takes a few moments to think over what I'm asking before shrugging. "My real name's Maverick," she starts off. Oh, now that is just wrong. "Previously out of Cloudsdale. I got my name because it took me years longer than most foals before I received my Cutie Mark. I joined the Wonderbolts for a little bit, but I wound up outside on my tail."
"The Wonderbolts... they are that team of elite stunt fliers, right? Why did they kick you out?"
"I was a little too insubordinate towards the higher-ups," Gargoyle continues. "Sarcasm when it wasn't needed, laughs at the expense of other ponies, and crud like that. They put up with it for a while because I was that good a flier." Boastfulness, or statement of fact? ... Then again, they did get to Canterlot reasonably quickly. I'll give her the benefit of a doubt for now. "Then Spitfire took over as Captain, and I said something to her that the previous Captain would've just shrugged off." She winces. "Had to visit my chiropractor ten minutes later."
So she means "outside on my tail" both literally and figuratively. Nice to know. "I'm assuming from the fight you and your cohorts gave me at the Pyre that you have some prior combat experience? Most of those hits were on point."
"More like that was the first fight where I could actually put my abilities to use," Gargoyle clarifies. "In addition to the little training I received before I got the boot, I'm also well-versed in pegasus-style boxing, and I'd just earned my black belt in karate before circumstances forced me into a life of crime."
...How does a pony learn karate, let alone master it? "And those circumstances would be...?"
"Lack of funds and lousy money management," she states bluntly. "After the Wonderbolts, I was working part-time jobs and throwing almost everything I earned at my fighting lessons in the hopes of gaining employment as a security guard, bouncer, or what have you. When I lost my last job four months ago and couldn't find another before my landlord came knocking, I started getting desperate. So when I found the Midnight Castles robbing somepony else in my apartment building not long after, I talked to them and got their 'okay' to join them."
Iffy at best. Even if she's telling the truth, it still feels fairly shallow. On the other hand, it's not a straight-up sob story: instead of exaggerating details to try and get my sympathy, she's admitting that her problems are her own fault. I'll peg this one as a 'maybe'.
My attention shifts from the blonde to the cherry. "How about you, Knight? What's your background?"
"If you must know..." she starts to say, but pauses. Why is she being so reluctant? "My birth name's Magnum."
Please don't tell me... "'Magnum'?"
"My parents had high hopes for me, so they gave me a name derived from an old legend. Some stallion called 'Flash Magnus'."
...Oh. For a moment, I thought she was connected in some way to the company that manufactures the Pantheon line's buster cannons. Silly me.
Knight's mood sours the more she talks. "Big disappointment I turned out to be. I wanted to join the Wonderbolts: washed out almost immediately. Wanted to play professional hoofball: got sidelined and replaced due to an injury. Wanted to join the local weather team: was scapegoated due to a slipup in the schedule. Tried to become an entertainer: was thrown out the moment my cousin spotted Countess Coloratura. Became a pet groomer's apprentice..." She tugs on her uniform's collar, showing a large patch of discolored hair below her neck. "...draw your own conclusions. I tried to be the great pony my parents wanted me to be. Care to know where I ended up for my efforts?" By the time she asks that, she's all but spitting. "Halfway down the tracks on the train towards Loserville!"
Someone's bitter. "And you were desperate enough for money that you became a thief?"
"More like I became addicted to the concept," Knight clarifies. "I lifted a few bits from a snobbish pony's saddlebags. She was too busy looking pretty to notice. Did it a few more times to other ponies and was never discovered, let alone caught. I even managed to snatch a few from Salamandra, and boy did that make my heart beat..."
Probably would've strung you up on her strings and made you dance in a crypt if she'd caught you. "You'll be paying them back. No questions asked."
Knight winces. "Yeah, figured that was coming. Anyway, I wanted to see how long I could go before I was outed. Nopony ever found out I was doing it, and if they were carrying enough, they never missed what I took either. So I kept doing it, taking only what I needed to get by. Eventually somepony did find out and approached me with a job offer..."
"A brick wall and a jerk?"
The both of them snort back laughter, though it's Knight that answers me. "Wow, it's like you know them. Been a member of the gang for a month before we got that offer to empty out the Pyre. Gargoyle even took it upon herself to give me a few boxing lessons in-between thefts. Then you showed up and brought my hot streak to an end." She frowns, staring at the floor off to the side. Her tone is lackluster, lacking some of the energy from earlier. "My life's been a long string of failures and accidents, robot. Tried to be a good girl, tried my hoof at being bad... nothing's working out for me. At this point, I'm hoping that my stay in prison is a lengthy one. At least then, I know I'm guaranteed to stay fed."
It takes a few moments before I realize that I'm tapping my chin thoughtfully, but I keep up the motion anyway. "In that event, why were you the one who approached me and asked to help out?"
Even the criminals here have cute little horsey snorts. I can't believe I just thought that with a straight face. "I don't know. I... I guess I just wanted one last chance at doing something useful with my life. I gave up trying to live up to my parents' expectations a long time ago, but..." she sighs. "After helping fix the jail and not having the walls crash down or anything like that, I feel like I ought to at least try."
Maybe that's another career she could try after she serves her time.
Let's see. Pros: Obviously fast, with some fighting ability. They seem to be on the level; I'm not seeing any tells that would indicate they're lying. Phantom would do a better job detecting them, but I like to think I'm decent at it. My instincts are telling me that their request is genuine. Cons: they're still criminals, with everything that word brings. There's a risk that they're doing this just for the sake of looking out for number one, and my instincts have been proven wrong before.
...
Alright. My decision's made. "Listen closely, you two," I say to them sternly... before showing them a broad smile. "From now on, I will not be addressing you as 'Gargoyle' and 'Knight'. From now on, you are 'Maverick' and 'Magnum.'"
There we go: there's the life in their eyes I've been waiting for. "You mean...?" Maverick asks hopefully.
I summon the Javelin to my hand and stand up straight. "Yes. I still have to run this by the Princess and the Royal Police, but barring rejection, you'll be working directly for me. Our current---and hopefully only---assignment will be to get to the bottom of yesterday's breakout, continue to capture or drive away those responsible as required, and discover who masterminded the entire operation. Given what I've had to face so far, you probably won't be fighting directly: you'll be serving as my backup instead, handling tasks that I would normally do if the encounters didn't dictate otherwise.
"I will expect you to follow some ground rules. First, Maverick, I don't want any insubordination like the sort that got you removed from the Wonderbolts. When I give you orders, you follow them without any smart-mouth remarks. That goes for you too, Magnum. Second, you will return to your cells at the Department at the end of each work day. When you give your reports, I will be there to ensure that you stay honest. And finally, remember to be professional. I don't expect you to like what I tell you to do; I just expect you to do it. Crystal clear, ladies?"
...
...
I've been hugged more times since I got here than I have in all my years prior. Maybe I should find a shovel and give my dignity a decent burial?
Maybe another time. I'm too busy smiling.
The Mocha twins were at opposite ends of their suite: Caramel reading about the previous day's catastrophe in the Minutes, and Hazelnut in her preferred exercise uniform doing some routine stretches on a practice mat. There was nothing to indicate that something terrible was about to happen.
Which of course meant that it was inevitable. Hazelnut paused in mid-motion, slowly lowered herself to the ground, and rested her head against one leg. A long, high-pitched wail that would have split the air if it had been any louder escaped her.
"Hazel!" Caramel jumped out of her seat and galloped to her sister, offering her hoof. It was accepted, and Hazelnut pulled herself upright. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Remember how I thought I'd ditched that headache at breakfast?" Hazelnut bit out, one eye closed as she grimaced at the pain. "It returned with reinforcements. Feels worse than it did last night."
"You don't think it's a migraine, do you?"
Hazelnut flinched at the pain. "Carrie, I can't even think straight right now. I don't know if it's a migraine or not!"
Carrie took a step back at the unexpected vitriol. "Hazel, calm down. I'm right here. Please, let me help you."
"I took something for it last night," Hazelnut bit out as Caramel led her off to the side. "Don't know if it's too soon to take it again. Been feeling nauseous, but I didn't want to bother you with any of that..."
"Always have to be the tough mare, don't you?" Caramel frowned as she considered their options. "I don't think there's any two ways about it. If it's this bad and the medicine isn't helping you, then we've got to get you in for an appointment."
Hazelnut stared at her like she'd willingly dunked her head in paint. "Are you crazy? As bad as it is out there right now?"
"I'm not going to stand around and watch you suffer," Caramel told her firmly. "I'm taking you to the doctor. No questions asked, so let's get your suit back on you and go."
"I'm telling you, it's a bad idea..." Hazelnut complained even while her sister led her out of the room.
The more tomboyish of the two, for all of her protests, knew that there was no way Caramel was going to back down on this. With both of their parents long since passed, their grandfather due to follow them at any time, and no other living relatives that they were aware of, either of them would give everything they possessed if it meant protecting the only family they had left.
1st Anniversary Chapter: One Possibility Out Of Many
Caramel Mocha sighed, ignoring the attentions of those around her as she went out on her daily trot. What with everything that had been going on in her life recently, she had figured that getting some air would help her get her thoughts and priorities straightened out. It wasn't working.
It just feels like all of the problems in the world want to dogpile me. As if I needed more issues after everything that happened this past summer. She shook her head. I need a distraction, something to help me focus. She stopped at an intersection, turning her head as a taxi carriage approached. Sometimes I envy those ponies. They have quite literally all day to keep themselves occupied.
She turned the other way to check if anything else was coming---
"WHA-WHA-WHAHA!"
---and was almost startled clear out of her coat by the unwavering face of a little filly, centimeters from her muzzle. On impulse she jumped back and snapped into a combat stance, but settled down when she realized that no harm was meant to her. "Don't do that, little girl! You almost gave me a heart attack!" she exclaimed, trying to bring herself down from the unexpected scare. She was not there a second ago!
The filly was unmoved by Caramel's words. "...Hi," she greeted her, her voice almost unheard over the city's ambience. "Please take this map." She worked something out of a pouch she was wearing and offered it to her. "...Take a map."
Carefully, Caramel accepted what the child was offering. What's this?... ...Directions to the Pyre of Fears? That's where the Siren General has been staying. Why is this little girl giving these away?
The filly for her part just nodded. Caramel took silent note of the little cap and the glasses she was wearing. "...Thank you. Please enjoy." She trotted off towards another pony a few doors down. "...Free map."
Caramel's caution didn't leave her until the filly was most of the block away. When she was finally satisfied that the creepy little child wasn't going to bother her again, she took a closer look at the instructions. Special show tonight at 7p.m. Small foals not permitted, adolescents welcome if accompanied by adults. The docket... "Tale of the False Paradise", loosely based on a true story. A short break, then "The Lantern Named Jack", back by popular demand.
Well... if I can finish all of my tasks before dinner, I can't think of a reason not to go. I can always have my servant come along as a chaperone. Nightmare Night's coming up soon, so I'll need to start getting in the mood. Back home with me. She took her hat and used it to flag down another carriage. "Taxi!" she called. "Taxi, yo!"
THAT EVENING...
The last notes of Salamandra's favorite opening song faded out. She stood in an expansive cemetery, listening to the applause that pierced the veil of her illusion. Closing her eyes and smiling toothily, she backed away as a curtain of mist closed off the graveyard.
"Your welcome and your applause are appreciated, dearies. Now settle down, one and all. The first of tonight's tales is different from what you may be expecting, but I assure you: much like the rest of my collection, this isn't for the faint of heart."
As the audience quieted, the mists parted. A city similar to their own rose from the ground, but the aesthetic was starkly different from what they knew. Most buildings seemed to be made of nothing but glass, metal, or both, whereas locally most constructs still incorporated wood to some degree. Some showed wear and tear. Overhead there was no sky, only domes that blocked it from view.
"Welcome to the future of a world without your Princess. Many, many years have passed since her time came to its end. The land has been torn apart by constant warfare, a victim of the endless greed and power-lusting of its leaders. Bereft of magic due to circumstances unknown, the inhabitants have adapted and adjusted, fully embracing technology to their detriment."
The view panned out. It became known to those watching that the domed city and the sky-piercing tower in its center were the lone bright spots in a desolate wasteland. There were few trees, if the dots they saw could be called such. Chunks of debris littered the landscape, byproducts of wars fought in ages past. One of those chunks was a foreleg sheathed in shattered metal, twitching and sparking as if its owner was trying to come back to life. Every now and then, a gust of wind sent sand and dust particles on a haphazard course.
"Centuries, young ones. Centuries of violence have taken their toll. Villages, towns, and cities the world over have been erased from existence. Civilization has been reduced to a gargantuan city, housing millions of robotic and flesh-and-blood entities alike in an effort to keep their histories active. This is the final stronghold of life as you know it."
The perspective shifted to that of a fully armored pony slouching on a throne, its unnatural eyes boring into the audience like daggers. There was a quiet determination in those pupils: the desire to do what was right gone terribly, terribly wrong. Somepony could be heard trying to get their shivering under control.
"Poor, poor little machine. Somepony once had very high hopes for him. They saw him as a representation of a positive future. His creator had discovered the means of gifting him complete sapience. A capacity for endless development, the ability to make his own decisions... both of these were landmark advancements. Or at least, they would be in a world that knew nothing but peace. It was not meant to be."
It became known to the audience that four more similarly armored individuals were bowing before their ruler, taking in orders that the audience couldn't hear. Green, red, purple, blue---
The fourth of those gave the audience a start. There were clear differences: the lower armor was missing, it possessed a tail that seemed to flow like water, and the boots were flat instead of heeled... but there was no mistaking that color scheme or the finned helmet. One by one, all of those present realized that the "true story" that the tale was loosely based on was the one told by the City's resident Guardian.
Salamandra's narration continued without letup. "X was not a kind ruler. His response to an energy shortage that befell his domain was to kill his own kind, those who needed that very energy to survive. Not once did he consider that the best option to take would be to have somepony research a non-lethal means of resolving the crisis." A throaty chuckle. "Poor, deluded fool. He could have led his kingdom into a golden age. Pyrite is far less valuable. The so-called paradise that he promised was a lie, for it is only if everypony is able to reap the full benefits of such that it becomes a true sanctuary.
"The biological entities agreed to his edicts without protest, believing that the hero who had protected them for many decades had everypony's best interests in mind." The four kneeling ponies accepted their ruler's silent orders and vanished one after the other. Blue dived into an ocean; Red charged over the wasteland; Green took to the sky, and Purple melted into the shadows. "His Guardians, his greatest servants, were relentless avatars of his will. Due to their direct actions, those that protested X's decisions were never seen again, forced into an early 'retirement'. To those of you who hear the quotes around that word, congratulations: the term 'deadly euphemism' is not lost on you. For the biologicals, it was bliss. For the machines? A nightmare come to life."
Red filled an entire battleground with a rain of fire from the twin cannons he was carrying, incinerating a dozen or two machines alive and forcing others to flee for their lives. Blue sat before a brightly-colored screen that none of those watching could make sense of, a plethora of wires as thick as pencils emerging from her hooves to rapidly manipulate the controls. Green soared between points of interest at a speed that would be the pride of any pegasi, his search for those that 'needed' to die unending. Purple's hoof reached out of a darkened corner to snag a machine that, despite its best efforts, could not be safe no matter how paranoid it was.
Trapped in a small room was an assortment of inorganic life, panicking as a ceiling packed with extraordinarily sharp spikes slowly descended towards their heads. The spikes were already stained maroon, and there was no telling just how many lives they had taken before that moment. The robots slammed their hooves against the only exit, and even resorted to straight-on tackling it. The door refused to yield, and the robots were pierced through shortly thereafter. Their screams were abruptly cut off, and for a few seconds everything was dark. A few hearts in the audience were heard pounding in the silence, the viewers in shock over the robots' fate.
"But not all biologicals let themselves be blinded to the truth."
A blue-eyed, golden-maned earth pony mare --- no, still a filly --- dressed in pink, white, and dark gray nervously trotted through a dark tunnel, turning her head this way and that. Those watching were surprised at how young she was. Orbiting her as she journeyed on was a shining magenta-shaded insect of some kind: a body and wings like that of a dragonfly but the head of an equine, along with eyes that were nothing but irises. Following them was a squad of green-uniformed ponies, all of them exhibiting the tell-tale signs of their shared robotic background.
"Sky---one word, one name---was a true genius. She was to robotics what Starswirl the Bearded had been to magic. She was enhanced at birth, her intelligence magnified several-fold in an attempt to help those who had difficulty helping themselves. Her keen observations allowed her to discern that nothing was as it should be, and as soon as she had the means of doing so, she took action. She found a hiding spot at the very edge of the fake paradise and gathered together those endangered by X's edicts, seeking to keep them safe.
"But it was not long before the city's attack dogs, headed by X's Guardians, were hot on their tails. The so-called Resistance was driven into a corner..."
Mechanical monstrosities roared behind them, prompting some of the soldiers to turn and try to hold them off. Their efforts were for nothing: the strange floating golems---for that was what they were where the audience was concerned--barely slowed down for more than a few seconds, their laser beams serving as the hot knife to the robots' butter. Some of those watching gasped, and another was heard protesting when his parents covered his eyes.
When Sky and the remaining soldiers ducked inside a passage that was too small for their attackers to fit in, something else took the golems' place. On first glance, the audience believed that they all looked like X, but they were quick to notice the differences. These new machines possessed muzzles, but no mouths or nostrils. Instead of eyes, there were singular glowing red lights that looked like they would bore straight into the viewers' hearts. They trotted forward without worry, their cores telling them that they would catch up and dispense the justice they were designed to deliver.
"Sky was aware that they would need a champion, somepony to protect them until she could devise the means of resolving the energy crisis. This was why she had come here. She was in no position to fight these battles, for something in her heart told her that she was not fit to wage war. No; somepony else would have to walk that path. Somepony who knew what it was like to traverse the darkened roads of destruction. So she undertook what she knew would either be the greatest or last mission of her life."
The remaining soldiers, sans one, turned to fight the incoming attackers while Sky and the pseudo-dragonfly gained entry to a large cavern. These would be their final moments, and they all knew it.
The audience was taken back by what it saw. Hooked up to a time-worn terminal in the center of the room was a broken being, its limbs and lower torso missing and the rest of its body dented and marred. Strangely, it did not resemble a pony or other common creature that the viewers knew: more than anything, it resembled the one who had fought and nearly died to protect their home. The primary difference was that its helmet and vest were scarlet instead of blue.
"The one she sought was legendary. He was said to have reached the edge of death time and time again, only to resurface later stronger than ever. Nothing could stop him from carrying out his mission, and I mean nothing. And yet there he was, asleep and broken since who knows how long. Sad, is it not?"
In the background, the automatons---damaged by the Resistance's defense---gained entry; the soldier who had entered alongside Sky was swiftly gunned down. Taken back, she bickered with her pet dragonfly about something that the audience couldn't hear. "As the city's forces closed in with the intent of capturing her, Sky's little friend suggested that she be used to fully revive the old champion. It was only with great reluctance that Sky agreed to this: to her, all of her friend's kind were like her children, and she was loathe to lose even one."
Her decision made, the dragonfly bid Sky farewell and flew straight at her target, breaking apart into a dozen motes of light that were absorbed into his body. Sky screamed in grief, though her cry was unheard by all...
A pillar of light engulfed both the body and the terminal, cutting off all sound. The automatons stopped in their tracks as they registered an unexpected threat suddenly appearing out of the blue. Neighs and alarmed cries sounded off through the audience as most of the viewers failed to shield their eyes in time.
"But in the long run, that sacrifice..."
The light faded. For the first time, the audience witnessed the entity who had been one of their protector's biggest influences standing straight, true, and alive.
"...would be worth it."
"He's been revived...!" Sky whispered. As it sunk in that he was her last hope at escaping capture, she scrambled for cover behind him. "Help me," she begged him, the tears from her tiny friend's passing not yet gone away. "Please help me... Zero!"
For a few seconds he regarded her without comprehension, wondering who she was. Who he was...
...But then the mindless automatons picked that moment to fire at him. In a blur of motion he snatched the gun away from the fallen soldier, aimed and shot six times in rapid succession, twice for each incoming bullet. The enemies' attacks dispersed harmlessly upon being struck with the first shots, while the extras continued on target. All three robots exploded as the shots struck their generators directly, their frames already having been butchered by the soldiers' last-ditch effort to protect their leader.
The audience would swear later that they did not hear the orchestrated music Salamandra preferred to use as accompaniment, despite her claiming that it was indeed what the speakers had been playing. What their minds instead registered was the ruckus brought on by an especially noisy guitar.
Sky closed her eyes for a few long seconds as Zero waited for her to compose herself. "Alright. There should be a transceiver around here somewhere that we can use to escape," she stated. "Just keep going straight ahead..."
A LITTLE WHILE LATER...
"...but for all of the fake's efforts, it wasn't enough. The resurrected legend was just too much. A maelstrom of desperation and fury ripped through the tower, launching Zero away from their arena. Copy X's reign... had finally reached its end."
The top floors of the city's central tower blew apart in a gargantuan explosion, forcing the audience to shield their eyes. The light and noise gradually faded and shifted into a violent wind, waves of sand flying and spinning through the air.
As the sandstorm cleared, a visibly-damaged Zero was seen a substantial distance away from the city. Enemy robots of all shapes and sizes surrounded him, ready to tear him apart. He remained unfazed by their presence, instead addressing the audience directly. Everypony paid attention as he spoke for the first time during the entire play. "I was returned to life by somebody who needed my help. My memories were incomplete; I knew only how to fight, and that I was once helped by a capable friend whose face was worn by that fake. But as I looked around at the world I now lived in, I knew that nothing was as it should be. Nothing was right. Something needed to be done.
"Listen to your storyteller. This city is far from the sanctuary it is claimed to be. You are wise not to venture here, even just to see the facts for yourself. It is not without hope, however. As long as I am still operational, I will continue to fight for those I believe in, those who believe in a genuine peace between Reploids and ponykind. I won't hesitate. If an enemy gets in my way..." He turned and leapt into the enemy ranks, his weapon blazing to life and bisecting one of the automatons. His final words echoed in the ears of all. "...I will destroy it!"
...
As the mass of machines closed in on him, the fog of the ages did much the same. The scenery darkened, and when the audience next gazed upon where he had been, they saw only the cemetery and its eternal resident. "What lies ahead for Neo Arcadia? What of Zero, and young Sky? I do not have the answers for you, dearies. I know only what has been whispered to me on the ethereal winds. All the same, it does not take a leap of logic to believe that they can accomplish the impossible. It is not often that my tales end happily, but perhaps they might reach that goal?" An airy, almost malevolent chuckle. "I almost look forward to learning the answer to that myself.
"That concludes the Tale of the False Paradise. I thank all of you for being such attentive listeners. Now, please allow me to take a short rest, for a story of this magnitude is a drain on my reserves. Feel free to grab a snack, take care of necessary business, talk among yourselves, or close your eyes for a few moments. If you choose that last, please remember that the Pyre of Fears will not be held responsible for your nightmares. If you leave the Pyre but intend to return in time for the second tale, please have the polite young gentlecolt at the entrance stamp your ticket stubs. The fires will be banked for thirty minutes; after that, even Burning Salamandra cannot be expected to wait. Until then, dearies, until then..."
The background music faded out, and the graveyard illusion wasn't too far behind. As the lights flickered on and everypony began talking to each other about what they had just seen, the storyteller turned and disappeared behind the curtains.
Backstage, the one who had identified himself as Zero pulled off his helmet. Instead of blonde locks that trailed everywhere, shoulder-length blue and white hair spilled free instead. The illusion that had been overlaid across his body faded, leaving behind that of Leviathan's. "I think I enjoyed that a lot more than I should have," she said, the depth of her voice back to what it was.
Salamandra joined her, sipping from a glass of juice. "Ha! And here you thought you would make a terrible actress. I keep telling you that you have a flair for the dramatic, and there's the proof!"
"I had plenty of help from you with that," Leviathan modestly told her, looking at the mockup Z-Saber hilt that she'd been using throughout the performance. "Changing my voice and appearance to match Zero's and giving this prop the appropriate blade were both the work of your illusions. And don't even get me started on how much time and work you put into creating this facsimile of his armor."
"Oh, come now," Salamandra chortled, waving off the praise with her free hoof. "I would never have been able to replicate any of that with any accuracy if you hadn't been willing to describe them in detail. See? Your obsession was a good thing!"
"If you say so. You picked a nice design for Dr. Ciel, by the way."
Salamandra drained her glass dry and set it aside. "Mere artistic license. You told me of the available clothing styles, the basics of her appearance that you could recall." She nodded at the specially-crafted marionette that she'd used as the mattress for her illusion's blanket. "Obviously there were going to be discrepancies given the difference in forms, but if you say it's nice, that's fine with me. Now, are you sure you don't want to stay for the second act? It's a real chiller!"
Leviathan checked a nearby clock, comparing it with her internal settings. "It's a nice thought, but I need to get to Gray's apartment. Her kids are really gung-ho on this whole 'sleepover' thing, and they'll be disappointed if I show up late."
"I'm still surprised Ebony didn't object to any of that."
"So am I, Drama. So am I." She gestured at the door. "Go ahead and get your rest in. I have to get out of costume."
Before Salamandra could make any moves, a polite tapping at the door stopped her. She sighed irritably. "What's the point of even having a 'staff only' sign if ponies are just going to ignore it..." She trotted to the door and opened it. "Yes? What's so important that it couldn't wait until after the... oh!" She whirled towards Leviathan, eyes wide. "Fairy, it's---!"
"Caramel," the Reploid interrupted her, raising a hand in placation. "We've met."
The Mocha Beverage heir nodded in greeting, smoothing out a few imaginary wrinkles in the white glittery dress she was wearing. "May I enter?"
"...Just so long as you don't disturb anything," Salamandra warned cheerfully, an oxymoronic expression if there ever was one. "Fairy, make sure of it, please." With that she left the two of them alone.
"She's not going to pull a knife or the like on me, is she?" Caramel asked apprehensively.
"Don't worry about it. She's eccentric, but she's no criminal," Leviathan assured her. An amused gleam lit up her eyes. "It's more likely that she'll try to remove your nose hairs with her tail trimmer."
"Let's just move on from that disturbing little topic," Caramel muttered with a shiver. "There's just a few things I'm wondering. How much of that tale just now is true, and how much is Salamandra's interpretation? Reading it in your account was one thing, but to actually see it..."
"Setting the story after the Princess's passing was her idea," Leviathan confirmed for her. "As was the loss of magic, changing Dr. Ciel's name to 'Sky'..." Caramel's ears caught the muttered comment of 'direct translation'. "...everything that implied that the story takes place in Equestria's future. And everything from Zero's point of view was a guess; I wrote down what I speculated happening based on intelligence reports and my own encounters with him, then let Drama work her magic."
"What of that little dragonfly?" Caramel inquired with a smile. "It was kind of cute, at least for the minute it appeared. I wish I had somepony to talk to like that."
"We... that is, Neo Arcadia's government... were already aware of Ciel's involvement with Cyber-Elf creation. Passy was noted as leaving with her when she formed the Resistance. Recovered camera footage showed them together when they went after Zero, but Ciel was alone afterward." Leviathan shrugged. "I could only imagine that Passy gave her life somehow in the interim, most likely to repair and rouse him, so that's what went into the play."
"So she wasn't an original character, then." Caramel's ears drooped a little. "A pity."
Leviathan's chuckling expressed both her amusement and her understanding. "Passy was cute, I'll admit. Cyber-Elves in general have that going for them. Now, any other questions? Not to intentionally rush you, but I am in a hurry."
"Well, I did have a few other things to ask, but I won't keep you any longer. They're not important. Good evening, General---oh. After that performance, I almost forgot... How's Gray Ghost doing?" Caramel asked, pausing as she turned to leave.
A happy smile. "Quite well, as relaxed as ever. She asked me to thank you for covering her medical bills the next time I saw you."
"Tell her I said 'you're welcome'." Caramel sighed, her own smile sad but thankful. "After everything the both of you did for us this past summer, how could I not?" She nodded and departed, another 'good evening, General' following her on the way out as she shut the door behind her. There was a skip in her step that wasn't present that morning.
A quick but pleasant meeting, Leviathan thought as she sought out her uniform. Gray will be happy to hear from her.
Now for a nice evening with some friends. I wonder what these sleepovers entail? Hopefully they're nothing too embarrassing.
The following morning, Gray and Ocean Guard would discover something that would've shocked Leviathan's friends and enemies alike a year ago if she'd done this then.
Fairy was sitting on the floor against the couch, eyes closed and systems hibernating. Her helmet was discarded, and a few of the family's spare blankets were covering her. Zig-Zag was planted behind her on the couch, his head resting on her left shoulder. Pure Energy was reclining against her left side. Fiver was draped across Fairy's ankles beneath one of the blankets, some discarded playing cards on the floor showing what she'd been doing before tiredness claimed her. Echo was curled up in Leviathan's lap like the cat he was, slowly blinking at the parents as they looked on.
Perhaps most surprising of all was Ebony. The unicorn who used to scream in fear every time she saw Leviathan was nestled against her right side, sleeping peacefully.
This by itself was enough to make Gray's heart melt, but then Ocean noticed something clutched between two of Fairy's fingers: a card produced by one of Manehattan's biggest printing companies. On its front was a crab nursing an unidentified drink, sporting sunglasses and resting next to a blank sign. On that sign was a message written in Zig-Zag's familiar childish scrawl.
The Midnight Castles would've robbed Drama Heart blind and escaped scot-free, leaving her struggling to recover for a very long time. It wouldn't be until the chaos of Nightmare Moon's return that they were finally caught, and by then everything that was stolen had been destroyed.
Gray Ghost would never have discovered the truth behind her mental state, as Juniper Leaf's journal would've remained in its hiding place. Despite her family's efforts, her reputation as "that crazy homeless pony" would persist until the day she died.
Without the boost in confidence from her increasingly successful efforts at speaking to Leviathan face to face, Ebony Evening would never be able to take the steps needed to begin overcoming her pediophobia. While not a truly debilitating fear, it would still rear its ugly head throughout her life.
And Caramel Mocha... she didn't want to think about it.
Those were just a few of the lives that Levi had impacted during her time in Manehattan. Helping four individuals out of many wouldn't change the world, but for those four individuals, the world had changed forever. And as long as they all lived, they would always be grateful to her.
The water is billowing behind me as I jet back towards Manehattan. The shadows I'm registering are keeping pace with me, telling me that Maverick and Magnum haven't tried to deviate off course.
I'd spoken with the Princess and given her a brief summary of my decision to let the two thieves help out. She was too busy helping the locals repair Metallium's tunnels for a prolonged meeting, but we got the point across. Her own reply was basically "I'm alright with it if they behave themselves, but maybe you should tell the Police anyway". Then she hugged me again and sent me on my way.
There was something that amused me before I left: the fact that Celestia was helping the locals at all. I don't mean in the sense of using her magic on the tunnels, though there was plenty of that flying around. I mean she was helping them, putting the physical strength of an alicorn to work as much as said magic. The residents were straight-up gobsmacked at the idea of their Princess helping them directly like that, as if they weren't expecting her to step down from the pedestal they'd placed her on. She'd set her regalia aside, and everything.
...Though I'm beginning to think that she deliberately got her hooves dirty just to get grime on me before I left, knowing full well my dislike of the stuff. Gray was right: she is a flake. At least it washed out in the ocean.
My radio is crackling: I'm back within range of Headquarters. "Officer Coffee-and-Cream, this is Leviathan. Metallium is defeated. Repeat, Metallium is defeated," I state. "Reinforcements from Canterlot have sent the dragon back to wherever she came from, and I'm returning to Manehattan with Knight and Gargoyle."
Coffee sounds relieved. -"Confirmed, General. How are you doing energy-wise? Are you still good to go?"-
"Both of those I've fought were carrying Reddocite with them. I'm still in fine shape," I assure her. "On a related note, the two prisoners have requested that they be allowed to continue assisting in resolving this incident."
-"They probably just want to stay free as long as possible,"- Coffee grunted. -"Typical."-
"All the same, the both of them have given me brief job interviews--haven't tried to get references yet--and I've asked the Princess for advice."
-"And what did she say?"-
I surface and slow to a stop, signalling the two pegasi to follow suit. The both of them obey, wings beating as they hover a few meters overhead. "That it was alright with her if it was alright with the Department. The both of them will be working for me directly, and they'll be delivered back to their cells at the end of their working hours. They're aware that they'll be wanted across Equestria if they try to escape. And to be honest, with the only other pony I can think of that could help me being sidelined by personal matters, some extra help won't hurt."
-"...I can't make this decision myself. Give me a minute,"- Coffee requests. -"I've got to speak to the Chief about this."-
The line goes quiet. I take the opportunity to scan the surrounding area with my newly-acquired radar. As advertised, my range above the water is rather limited. It's registering both of my new teammates and a few birds that are flying around in my vicinity, but little else; I can see the distant dot of what can only be a sailboat, but I can't detect the ponies on it.
On the other hand, everything underwater within a thirty mile radius is being read like a pamphlet. While it isn't giving me complete details, the radar's keeping me clued in on all the sea life clear down to the ocean floor. Entities of all types, including a few fish I don't recognize the outlines of, populate the depths. There is even at least one creature down there that I would classify as a legitimate sea monster, though thankfully it isn't causing any disturbances. I wonder how long that has been there.
That's not the most interesting thing I'm detecting, however. Right now I'm surveying the island that Manehattan was built upon, and halfway to the seafloor there appears to be nothing less than a large slab of embedded metal larger than I am. What on earth is the history behind that? Is that a door? I won't know for sure until I---
-"General Leviathan?"- a new voice interrupts, yanks me out of my scanning. Older, masculine, deeper and gruffer than Coffee's, and entirely deadpan. He sounds like he could get along great with Fiver.
"Yes? Who is this?" I inquire.
-"This is Chief Pine Grove. Officer Coffee has just told me that you want those two thieves as part of your team. Ordinarily I would not approve, but given the status of our department at present, I will give you the go-ahead. Just bear in mind that Knight and Gargoyle will be your responsibility as long as they are outside of their cells. If they get out of line, it's on you to rein them in. And if they succeed in fleeing, that will hurt your chances of going home within a reasonable time frame. Do you understand?"-
Well, obviously. If anything, that's downplaying it. "Completely, sir."
-"Alright. I'll turn you back over to your go-between. It's almost lunchtime. I'm going to get me a can of hash and some coffee."-
What's that drop on the side of my helmet? I want to say it's seawater, but water's not supposed to cling to my armor. "Um..."
Coffee's voice resumes control of the transmission. -"Let's... not think too hard about that. Saying he's not your average Police Chief is understating it." She clears her throat. "SO. Who are you chasing after next?..."-
Upon arriving back within the city limits, we are greeted past the bridge by the spotter who'd been watching my duel with Metallium. He warily eyes my escorts, but accepts my request to get the details from his superiors. By the time he's done he's still unsure, though willing to give me the benefit of a doubt.
Carbo-loading notwithstanding, my assistants are looking tired from their flight. So instead of roof hopping across the city and making them fly after me, I request that we take a police carriage to our destination so that they have the chance to shut their eyes for a few minutes. Seeing as how his assignment has been finished, the spotter shrugs and agrees before signalling his partner to help him out.
It's cramped in here both above and to the sides, and I've needed to remove my helmet to keep the fins from smacking my helpers, but watching both Maverick and Magnum slumped against me with their eyes shut has me convinced I made the right choice. It won't be enough to fully rejuvenate them, but every minute they get to rest is a good minute.
Now the real question is, how am I going to get out of here without damaging the carriage? Maybe choosing to sit in the middle wasn't my brightest move.
...
My mental fortitude has become a lot weaker this past fortnight, because I have the strangest urge to scratch behind their ears right now. Curse you, Zig-Zag, for showing me the unbridled cuteness of ponies.
-"Single Arrow, this is Officer Coffee. You've got friendlies incoming. Repeat, you've got friendlies incoming. General Leviathan is taking control of the situation, and Chief Grove has okayed the assistance of the Midnight Castles' Knight and Gargoyle. Their carriage will be arriving at your post shortly."-
-"Confirmed, Officer. Thanks."-
Single Arrow, so nicknamed because of an errant hair in his mane that stuck out from beneath his cap and refused to be tamed, shuffled his hooves anxiously as he waited outside one of Median Park's western entrances. His partner, who had been in the force three years longer than him, noted his anxiety but didn't comment on it.
Back when that special issue of the Minutes was released, he was one of those whose initial opinion of Leviathan had been squarely in the negative at first. His first impression of her had him thinking that she was some sort of strange monster that had wandered into the city from who-knows-where, as opposed to a robot from another world. He had never strayed far from the city in his life, never ventured anywhere near the places where actual monsters were known to roam. He only had words and stories to go by instead of any physical or visual proof. As such, the idea of creatures existing other than ponies or the few other races that called Manehattan home unnerved him, and he refused to believe that worlds other than this one existed.
When a few weeks went by without the 'strange monster' making trouble for anypony, he let himself relax a little---but only a little. A recent Minutes article made mention of one Limefrost Spiral complaining that the creature had drenched her in pool water, but he had disregarded it without a second thought. Juvenille pranks might be conceived as "making trouble", but only in the sense that a rubber ball could make trouble for a steel shield. As long as it didn't hit around the shield--a rubber ball thrown at full force would still be painful---then there was no real harm done.
Then he learned earlier this morning that the monster was going to help bring the perpetrators of yesterday's attacks to justice, and his nervousness jumped up to where it had been previously.
Come on, Arrow. come on. You can stay calm. You can do this. If you don't make trouble for it, it won't make trouble for you. Just stay professional and hope that it reciprocates. Come on.
His attempts at staying calm were interrupted a short time later when he saw one of their carriages on the approach. As it got closer, he realized that there was some kind of clamor from its occupants. As he paid attention, he realized that he'd just been proved wrong about what the creature was like. And as he received context while the carriage rolled to a stop, he had to remind himself to stay alert instead of facehoofing.
All three occupants were blushing a bright red. The "monster" was stammering replies and apologies to each of the prisoners in turn. Knight and Gargoyle were alternately chastising her and apologizing to her themselves, for reasons he didn't understand. Why would known lawbreakers feel the need to apologize for anything?
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wasn't watching what I was doing!"
"No no no, don't worry about it! Don't worry about it! Those things happen!"
"Yeah, settle down! Mistakes were made, everypony's cool, just keep it real!"
"Seriously, if I'd known that it would be getting that sort of reaction from you---!"
"It caught me off guard, that's all! I'm not mad, really! Calm down, robot!"
"Probably could have warned us first, yeah, but you don't need to be so worked up over it!"
Arrow uneasily walked up to the carriage. "Is everything alright here---?"
"YES!" the three of them blurted out before he could continue his train of thought, whirling to face him and very nearly falling out of the carriage in the process. "Everything's perfect!"
For a long moment, everything was more or less still. Arrow was frozen in mid-motion, a hoof halfway off the ground. The "monster" didn't say anything, but her face was all but begging for a topic change. Both prisoners were much the same. A light breeze blew through the area. Birds chirped a few trees away. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
The two carriage drivers glanced back at their passengers, discreetly nibbling on mint candies that they'd had on their person while looking entertained. Regulations forbade them from eating popcorn on the job, so they had to make do.
"...Right. If you say so," Arrow finally acquiesced, gesturing at the sidewalk. "If you're done staring at me, then come on. I'll brief you on what's happening here at the park."
The three of them expelled relieved sighs (wait, didn't the paper say that she didn't need to breathe?), then carefully vacated the carriage. Arrow wondered at first why the "monster" had seen fit to remove its helmet, but that curiosity was sated after she re-equipped it and turned to survey the street. Those things on the back of it were longer than they looked. Alright, makes sense. Police carriages do tend to be rather cramped if they're not meant to ferry criminals in bulk.
Satisfied with whatever it was she was looking at, the creature (should be safe to downgrade it from "monster" by now, right?) pivoted to face Arrow directly and saluted him. After a moment's hesitation, the two prisoners shrugged and followed suit. "Reporting in, officer. What can you tell us?"
No one saw me. ...Or at least I think no one saw me.
X alive, these ponies are going to be the end of me. Why did I do that? Why in the bottomless of pits did I do that?
"Because you're a real sweetheart at your core, dearie! Why else?"
Alright, I know I'm hallucinating when I start imagining voices other than my own. If I let Drama Heart get a hoofhold in here, she's not going to leave. Out you go, random thoughts, and the horse you rode in on.
...But seriously, why?
The officer starts talking, and I hastily put a pin on that topic before focusing on him. Time to work, girl. You can break down later. "When Glintlock got here he scared off the few present, then grabbed the nearest officer and told him to block off all the entrances. He said that there were only two individuals that would be allowed to pass: the 'robot', or the 'ghost'. I'm not sure who he was talking about on that last one..."
"Retired Police officer," I say curtly. "Keep going."
"Right. Anyway, he warned the Police that if anyone other than those two broke the barricade and went after him, he couldn't guarantee that they'd stay in good health."
"The 'ghost' won't be making it today, but the 'robot' is ready to meet him." The griffon's challenging me. I would be a poor sport if I didn't accept it. "Assignment seems cut-and-dry. I'll have him caught inside ten minutes."
"That... might be problematic," the officer says, sweating a little.
Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be? "What's the situation?"
"A little filly was sighted wandering into the park. She either didn't know what was going on or didn't care, because she walked right past our barricades. We made an attempt at getting her out, but we were forced to leave when the crossbow bolts started flying."
An escort mission. They really don't like making things easy, do they? A detail in that sentence is making me pause as I formulate a reply. "...Crossbow bolts? Plural?"
"There's traps set up in there," he explains. "I must have stepped on something, because the next thing we knew, a whole slew of them were flying straight at us." He shudders. "One of them almost... I don't want to think about it."
"The charges are going to pile up on him," his partner states. "Repeating crossbows have been outlawed in Equestria for more than a century."
Which implies that normal ones still see active use, but that's unimportant. It's not enough that I have to rescue a foal, but I have to get her away from a deathtrap. I suppose it would be hypocritical to complain in light of how much we put the Resistance through, but why can't these things ever be easy? "Alright, so maybe not ten minutes. Still, this is hardly the worst assignment I've had." I make sure that Maverick's in my line of sight. "Alright, here's how we're going to---"
"---Plccch! What in blazes---?!" I snarl, slamming a hand on my helmet as the officers and prisoners all flinch in response. A jarringly loud burst of static just went off right in my ears! No, I haven't forgotten that they're technically microphones and not ears, now stay quiet and listen!
-"---EEEeechh--never figure th-chezzbt-pid things..."- I can just barely discern an unidentified voice muttering.
"Who is this?" I exclaim. "If this is somepony's idea of a practical joke...!"
-"CcczZZBEeee--lo? Hello? Who am I speaking to? Is this the robot?"-
Frostily, I answer: "Again, who is this?"
Whoever it is doesn't give his name, though he becomes easily identifiable quickly. -"I'm assuming it is, so I'll be brief. I already know about the little foal sitting all by her lonesome somewhere in the park. You might presume to believe that I'm holding her hostage to lure you in."- He chuckles. -"But you know what they say about assuming."-
"Forgive me if I don't believe you," I deadpan. Meanwhile, Maverick and Magnum hover near my helmet to try and listen to the conversation.
-"There's no catch,"- he denies. -"The child is not heavy enough to trigger my traps. They were intended to catch larger prey, such as yourself. You could recklessly charge straight for me, and not a single hair will be harmed on her head."- A soft chuckle. -"Of course, if you'd like, you can seek out the foal and get her to safety. But there's no guarantee that the emplacements you set off wouldn't catch her in the crossfire as well."-
That's the sort of ultimatum that only a fool would fall for. I am not leaving the child alone. "I'll take my chances."
-"Well, we can't say I didn't try to at least warn you,"- Glintlock sighs. -"It's your own fault if she gets hurt. Pass into Median Park, then. I'll be adding your head to my trophy room soon enough."- A violent crackle of static, and he's gone.
"Who does that guy think he is?" Magnum bites out, incensed. "Letting a kid just wander into danger like that?"
"Please tell us that you'll be saving a piece of him for us," Maverick begs. "Using a foal as bait? Seriously? He needs to pay for that!"
"And he will," I promise them. "But it's up to me to do that. Officer, am I correct in assuming that with the decreased ponypower, you won't be able to take anypony away from the barricades?"
"That's right."
Hmm... "Then here's how we'll handle this. Do any of you have a spare radio?"
"Sure do." The officer's partner fishes one out of his vest. "I accidentally broke mine once as a rookie. Since then, I've never left the Station without an extra."
I take it from him with a thankful nod. "Appreciated." I turn towards the prisoners and summon my Javelin to my free hand. They get the hint: Seriousness is set to 'On'. "Equip this, Maverick," I order, handing her the radio. "Once I find the child, I'll be sending her your way. It'll be on you and Magnum to get her safely home, wherever that is. If she's hurt, get her to a doctor. In any event, when I ask for status reports, I expect you to be prompt. If you're not prompt, then I'll suspect the worst." I raise an index finger into the air, releasing a tiny little puff of ice particles from my Arctic Pulse. "And you don't want me to suspect the worst. Understand, ladies?"
Both of them shiver at my tone. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" they declare, Magnum's hoof raising to her forehead in a salute. Maverick takes an extra second on account of needing to attach the radio to her ear before doing the same. The on-looking officers nod approvingly.
I smile in satisfaction. It's good to know that my brief moments of lunacy haven't made me lose my touch. "Then it's time I got to work. I'll get the little filly out as soon as I can." With nothing more that needs saying, I jump over the barricade and into the park, activating and putting my new Radar to work as I go.
...
"So," Magnum said to Maverick as they sat down near the barricade, "do you want to be the one to tell her that we actually enjoyed what she did?"
A mild snort. "And give ponies the wrong idea about us? Not a chance," Maverick denied. "Dignity's precious, and I'm keeping mine."
Single Arrow shook his head to clear it, decided that what happened in that carriage was none of his business, and refocused on standing watch.
While Median Park isn't the only recreational area that Manehattan has, it's by far the largest. Hundreds of acres lie almost squarely in the middle of the city, with enough space for virtually any activity under the sun. Tall trees, grassy fields, hoofmade streams and creeks, nature trails, playgrounds, picnic areas... if I didn't have a child to find and a griffon to catch, you can bet I would be trying to wax lyrical right now. This, bar none, is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen in my life. It's what everyone back home needs to aspire to.
All that, and I haven't gone very far into the park yet.
Not far from where I entered, my radar is warning me about a freshly disturbed patch of ground that seems out of place next to the path. Had I not been using said radar, I probably wouldn't have noticed it. Easily handled, I think to myself, utilizing my powers to shape a fairly bulky chunk of ice. Once it's fully formed, I toss it onto the dirt and stand back.
A net immediately rises out of the ground and hoists the cube into the air, wrapping itself around the ice. A moment later, a volley of crossbow bolts perforate the cube from multiple angles, causing it to crack and break apart.
It would be a tossup as to whether such a trap would have really harmed me, but since it was probably intended for Gray, points for effort anyway. Keeping the radar active in case of a follow-up attempt, I take a few moments to take the net down. A combination of the radar and simple mathematics lets me extrapolate the positions of the crossbows, and I only need to stab once to render each of them useless.
A swarm of Magiflies attracted by the noise fly towards me. These look modified from the ones I've seen previously, being green and blue instead of orange and pink (and having smaller eyes on top of that). Their tiny limbs have been lengthened and reshaped into curved hooks, with a larger one extending from the end of their abdomens. Not that they're able to use them against me: a four-second blast of Arctic Pulse immobilizes them, and a single slash smashes them apart. A tiny glowing shard salvaged from one of them restores some of the energy that required.
Just a hunch, but maybe this variety helped Glintlock set up these traps? Aside from the design differences looking like they would allow the Magiflies to carry small objects, I don't feel like he would have been able to cover the entire park on his own. I'll have to keep my eyes open for more of these.
With that distraction out of the way, I return to a bulletin board that had been posted near where the trap had been set. Behind a pane of glass is a map, among other things, giving a basic outline of the park's paths and attractions. It's enough to make me whistle; even with the radar helping me, this is a lot of ground to cover. The foal could be anywhere, and the chances of her wandering into danger are increasing with each passing minute. ...
Something's growling from close by. Another drone? I don't remember them making much noise.
But turning towards the source of the growls, I'm reminded that I still have a fair bit to learn. The creature giving me an unnerved and upset look from the shelter of a bush is large, brown-and-white, and looks like some sort of giant weasel. I swear to X, if it tries to bite my leg, nature and I are going to have words. "Oh, relax," I tell it, not expecting it to understand. "Give me a moment to get my bearings, and I'll be out of your fur."
But Equestria has decided to surprise me once again: apparently wild animals around here are smarter than they would have been back home. The creature jerks its head at the trap I'd dismantled, then at the drones I'd just destroyed. It opens its mouth and does its level best to communicate using a combination of squeaks, growls, and huffs.
I don't speak 'weasel', but I can least guess at what it's trying to say. "I suppose you want me to get those things out of your territory?"
The creature is silent for a few seconds before moving its forelegs in an approximation of a shrug. I'm getting 'close enough' vibes from that gesture.
"In that case, maybe you can help me," I suggest to it. "You might have seen the path through your territory being blockaded earlier. Did you happen to see a foal enter past it within the last few hours? Give me two sounds for 'yes', and one for 'no'."
The weasel... seems to be considering my question. Without really knowing how to interpret its movements, I have to fall back on guesswork. Finally it emits two short growls and lifts one paw, gesturing at a split in the path fifteen yards distant.
"Thank you," I tell it, bowing ever so slightly. "Once I've found the foal and caught my own prey, I'll make sure your territory is safe." There's nothing else that I have to say, so I'd better get back to work.
...
Fifteen minutes and a few more disarmed traps later, I grimace as what had happened fully sinks in. Talking to wild animals and expecting them to talk back. Leviathan, you're not going to be making any waves back home anytime soon.
"Lookit her, worried about what her Cutie Mark's gonna be!"
"She's obsessing over that way-hay-hayyy too much!"
"Hey, look at mine! I bet you wish you had one of these, don't you?! Ha-ha-ha!"
The foal didn't get why she'd been having a bad day up to his point. Normally, the teasing she got from her peers and other children her age was... well, not good-natured, but at least they weren't inclined to push it for more than a little bit. Today, something seemed to have lit a fire under them. She didn't understand why, nor did she make any connection to the sudden loud noises that she'd heard the evening before.
If she had, she would have realized that the spike in ridicule wasn't due to any real animosity. Those around her were more in the know as to local events, and they were worried that they would be next. Due to not knowing any better, the teasing they had subjected her to today was their way of coping. Of trying to get rid of the fear that their home was in danger, that the certainties of life weren't quite so certain anymore.
Even if she had known, it wouldn't have made her life any easier. After one comment that struck her as vicious, she decided that she'd had enough. Snapping at them to leave her alone, she'd left them behind for Median Park, her favorite place in the city. Maybe there she'd be able to get a few moments of peace, she'd thought.
She was too worked up to pay attention to the Police ponies guarding the entrances when she arrived, and neither did she pay any attention when the officers made their failed attempt at bringing her back. She didn't care about any of that. She just wanted to get some solitude, somewhere away from those that decided mocking her was their idea of a good time. As such, she made her way to a specific playground that she knew about, parked herself on a colorful roundabout in one corner, and settled down to brood.
It took a while before she finally realized that she was alone. Barring a few animal noises, the Park around her was very quiet. At this time of year Manehattan's schools wouldn't have been in session, so there should have been more foals her age running around and having fun. Adults who probably didn't have to work until the afternoon would have been around to keep them in line. There was no sign of either. Where is everypony?
Her ears twitched as she heard a loud, violent-sounding ruckus from somewhere nearby. She didn't want to be around those who bothered her, but she didn't want to be alone with noises like that, either. Hearing a soft rumble, she knew that it was time for her to eat. Jumping off the roundabout, she decided to make tracks for home, blowing a stray hair out of her eyes as she went.
...Or at least she would have gone home, if somepony hadn't jumped directly in her path. "Young lady?" the foal was told, the figure who'd spoken standing straight. "I'm here to get you out of the Park. It's not safe here."
The foal recoiled out of fear and awe, shuffling backwards a few steps. "The robot from the paper!" she cried out, eyes temporarily swapped out for saucers. "Stay away from me!"
Leviathan started to take a step towards her, but thought better of it. The weapon she was holding vanished before the foal's eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," she explained, stooping down to better speak to her. "A criminal's taken over the park. I've been asked by the Police to get you out."
"And I'm just supposed to believe that?" the foal protested. "I didn't see any Police!"
"You seriously didn't notice the ponies in uniforms standing on either side of a barricade that said 'Caution: Do Not Cross' in large letters?" Leviathan informed her. "They were right out in plain sight, little pony. Kind of hard to miss."
The foal racked her memory, trying to remember anything. As she struggled to think, she had a dim recollection of somepony calling for her to come back when she'd arrived at the park, but... "I was upset at the time," she said, her face souring like unsweetened lemonade as she recalled how she'd felt when she arrived. "I just wanted to be alone. I..." It hurt to say this, but she forced herself to anyway. "I wasn't paying attention."
Leviathan looked around, searching for something she didn't know about, then refocused on her. "I'm not an expert, but talking about it would probably help," she suggested, her tone surprisingly gentle for somepony much bigger than herself. "How about it?"
The foal considered this. Well, it's not like anypony else is here to talk to me about it...
I'm lingering at the playground for a little bit. I probably shouldn't be delaying, but it will be easier for me to escort the child back where I entered if she has her head screwed on straight. Wandering off when she's unable to focus isn't going to help anypony.
The child's seated at the bottom of a slide, with me on the grass next to it. She's introduced herself as 'Babs Seed', and she's apparently having difficulties with her peers. Mockery, bullying, and the like. I'm not sure what possessed me to stop and talk to her, considering I'm in the middle of a mission, but it's beginning to look like a good thing I did. It seems like she needed somepony to talk to.
Now, it's been previously established that I'm not a psychologist. My initial interactions with this world's denizens should have given that much away. I'm not qualified to solve the problems of the world. It doesn't look like that's what she wants at the moment, though. For now, she just needs somepony to talk to. Somepony who won't mock her for not manifesting their destiny on their sides.
Speaking strictly for myself as an outsider to their society, I feel like the term "blank flank" is a misnomer. If her peers can't see all of that potential, then her peers need to grow up.
On my way in, I'd destroyed another swarm of those modified Magiflies. My radar's picked up on the presence of another set of them east-by-southeast of my present position. They haven't tried to interrupt Babs' heart-to-heart, instead patrolling around the perimeter of the playground beyond the trees. I don't think she even knows that they are there.
I still don't believe that Glintlock's refraining from victimizing her. What sort of game is he playing?
"...After he said that," Babs is complaining, her tail twitching now and then, "I just couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to be alone, so I went over here. Why does everypony have to be so mean?"
"I'm not mean," I point out. Mean to my enemies, maybe, but not to children.
"Everypony my age," she elaborates. "Grownups are cool, I guess..." She eyes me curiously. "Are you a grownup? Can robots grow up?"
"That's... complicated," I tell her, wondering how to explain the process of memory uploading to her. There were provisions for Reploids with smaller bodies if they wanted to relocate to larger ones, though I don't know if they're still current. Or for that matter, if they're among the provisions that Copy X let slide.
Babs is not impressed. "You don't know, do you?"
"Now, I didn't say that," I defend myself. "I just don't know how to explain it to adult ponies, never mind foals. Back home, you can at least expect that the other party would get it if I told them. Around here, it's not so easy."
"What do you mean?"
"When biological beings grow up, they don't stop to think about it. It just happens without them needing to say or do anything besides staying healthy. When a Reploid wants to grow up, there's a number of different procedures that they have to go through. They've got to have an entirely new body built, get their minds transferred to the new bodies, have their old bodies either properly disposed of or prepared for a new mind to be placed... It's easier for us if we're built with adult bodies and minds from the start so we can just get it over with." Which makes me wonder if those who have child-sized Reploids constructed consider this process at all.
Babs stares at me for a time, one eye half-closed and the other wide open. This is I-Don't-Get-It in its purest form. "...You're right," she finally says. "That is complicated."
I concur, and this is my own race we're talking about here. "Kyahahaha! Compared to Reploids, you ponies have it easy. The worst you have to worry about is 'when do I get my Cutie Mark'. You all know that sooner or later, you will get it. If that was our only major concern back home, nailing down our lots in life would be so much easier."
Hearing that brightens Babs's mood for a moment, but only for a moment. "It would still be nice if ponies didn't make fun of me, though."
"Oh, no question," I agree. As it happens... "I know a few ponies who shouldn't make fun of you, if you're willing to trust me on this."
Babs hesitates. "...Mom and Dad say I shouldn't just trust random strangers," she says.
Sage advice, but I still take offense towards half of it. 'Stranger', yes. 'Random', I am not. That's Gray. "You trust the Royal Police, right?"
"Well, yeah," Babs affirms. "I don't know anypony at school who doesn't."
"The Police hired me specifically to bring you out," I explain. Just in case she forgot me telling her about it when we met. "I don't know how I can prove it to you, though. They didn't give me any visual proof to offer that I was working with them, such as something with their emblem. All I can really give you is my word."
Babs seems like she's thinking hard about this, but not in a way that's conducive towards getting her out. "I don't know..."
"Well, think about it for a bit," I say with a shrug. "I have to talk to my helpers for a moment." I test for frequencies, trying to find the one that will connect me with those waiting outside the park. "Maverick? This is Leviathan. Do you read me?"
-"Sure do,"- Maverick... groans? What happened? -"That radio screeched right in my ear just now and spooked me. I managed to hit my head on a tree branch."-
Oh. "That was probably me. Sorry. Anything new since I entered the park?"
-"We had to turn away a few visitors from this entrance, but that's it,"- Maverick confirms, still sounding a bit grouchy. -"How about you, boss? Did you find the foal?"-
"Yes, she's safe, but she wants proof that I'm working with the Police. I doubt she's going to leave with me otherwise, and I don't feel she'll be safe on her own with that hunter around."
"Hunter?" Babs asks, sounding worried. I ignore her for the moment.
-"Oooof. Tricky,"- Maverick grouses. -"None of us can come in to talk to her. ...Unless..."-
"Got an idea there, Mav?"
-"I might,"- she says. -"Is your radio built into your head or your helmet?"-
"The helmet. Why?"
-"I'm just thinking that if you held your helmet near her, one of the boys here should be able to talk to her,"- Maverick suggests, and I still wish her real name had been something else. -"Preferably somepony good with kids."-
Hmm... I don't want to take off my helmet in the middle of a mission, but I am close enough to Babs that she can just lean over a little to listen in. I'd say it's worth a try.
And speaking of Babs, she's looking anxious. "Who are you talking to? And what's this about a hunter?"
I'm a little bit annoyed that she's interrupting, but I may as well humor her. "You remember how I said a criminal had taken over the park?"
"I think so. Why? Is that the hunter?"
...
...
A few moments of simplified explanation on his backstory later, Babs is very, very confused. "Why is he hunting in Median Park? You can find animals like these anywhere!"
"Because he's hunting either me or a pony that acts like a cat," I tell her, "and he's not picky as to which one he gets." Or is that a cat that acts like a pony? After seeing Juniper Leaf's journal, I think it could be either at this point. "He's willing to break the law to do it, and he's why the park is so empty. Aside from getting you out, I've also been asked to capture him and give him to the Police. The sooner I destroy his traps and get him out, the sooner the park can open for everypony again."
"Okay... that makes sense," Babs admits. "But who were you talking to? I thought you were talking to the air at first!"
"Like I said, my helpers."
Exasparation fills the atmosphere with one word: "How?!"
"With radios," I explain. I'll spare her the technical details. "You know those little black things that attach to a pony's ear? You might have seen a Police officer or two walking around with those sometimes. They let ponies make themselves be heard over long distances. For a city as big as Manehattan, they're needed to help the Police respond to big problems quickly."
"That's what those things are?" she exclaims, surprised. "I always thought they were just ugly earrings!"
-"...'Ugly earrings'?"- Maverick mutters. Don't ask me how it's possible, but I think I heard her eye twitch over the line.
"Hee... you're not too far off the mark." I barely managed to prevent another burst of laughter there. "As I told them, I've got one of them right here." I tap my helmet at the appropriate location. "So if it looks like I'm talking to thin air, that's actually the reason why. I'm not insane."
"...That's some very awkward headgear you've got there," Babs says. "I don't get why you put up with it."
I think she's starting to open up a little. Maybe getting her to talk to those out front won't be needed. "I have to. You've seen that special edition of the Minutes from a few weeks ago, so you already know that it helps me fight and swim. You're right, it does make things awkward in cramped areas, but it's really only difficult if I need to take a carriage somewhere." My face is warming up. Please don't notice, please don't notice...
Babs' face---which on a personal note looks as if it was built for sarcasm---shifts towards concern. "Are you okay? You're blushing."
She noticed, X blast it. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You're sure? Because if you're not feeling well---"
"I said I don't want to talk about it," I warn her a trifle testily, one hand on the side of my face she's looking at.
Babs considers it... then smiles. Oh, no... I recognize that look. Zig-Zag and Pure Energy get that same look on their faces whenever they're feeling playful. "Didn't I just get done talking to you about my problems? It can't be worse than what I've gone through."
"I'm not going to play the 'my problem is worse than yours' game, Miss Seed," I answer with the slightest bit of heat.
"It's not a game," she insists. "I just want to know. C'mon, tell me."
Children, for the love of---! "Alright, fine! If you must know, I wasn't watching what I was doing and started scratching my helpers behind the ears on the way here! THERE! Happy?!"
...
My credibility just shrieked in terror. I got outplayed by a child, and she knows it. Never mind me raising my voice to a few decibels below straight-up shouting: she's smiling like she's won a lifetime supply of her favorite snacks. "Babs, I swear on my creator's name that it wasn't what it looked like," I groan past my palm.
"You know what? You're pretty cool," Babs replies, seeming more upbeat. "I don't mind hanging out with you for a bit."
...What?"That was what changed your mind?" I ask, incredulous.
"What can I say?" She reaches over and taps my arm. "You're funny for a robot." She climbs up my arm and uses the helmet's fins to boost herself up onto my head. "C'mon, let's go! Back to where I came in, right?"
Never, for as long as I live, will I ever understand children. They're about as flaky as your average bowl of cereal. "...Yeah," I manage to say, getting to my feet and leaving the playground at a fast walk. My eyes flick from side to side as I re-activate my Radar. "Let's just get this over with." I sigh to myself. "The other Guardians are never going to let me live this down."
"Aw, don't be mad!" Babs 'encourages' me, holding on tight to my helmet. She does her best to imitate my voice. "'I'm not mean!' 'I'm not insane!' 'I'm not blushing!' You did say all that, right?"
I roll my eyes in what I hope is a good-natured way. "That's a terrible impression."
A pair of eagle eyes, enhanced by the goggles that covered them, tracked Leviathan's progress through the Park. The landscaping did nothing to block their view, and they watched as the robot---with the filly on her head, if that don't beat all---navigate back the way they went.
They're wasting my time, the eyes' owner decided. I told Ignition that I would signal him by three, but I would like to have Leviathan's head well before that. Now, what can I do to speed this up? As if I didn't already know.
Glintlock raised his weapon, making a few adjustments to it. Alright. Set this from multiple shots to single... crystal shards are still mostly charged... runes have not been worn away... excellent. Credit to the developers for the ease of use. I wonder if I can keep this weapon after we're done? He looked down the sight towards Leviathan, judging her path and progress.
The fact that his new toy would be considered highly illegal everyplace he'd ever heard of never crossed his mind. Even if it had, he would've deemed it an unnecessary worry.
Non-repeating crossbows had an effective range in the ballpark of forty to sixty yards, but for those that cared more about distance than accuracy, it was possible to reach hundreds of yards farther. Beginners and even some skilled users of the weapon tended to stick with the former, it being the most comfortable of their options.
He, on the other hand, had been trained in the use of the crossbow from adolescence onward. Nearly every day from the time he joined his father on his first hunt to the day when they parted ways for good, he had honed his skills with an almost feverish intent to become the best. He had long since abandoned his original weapon, having traded it in for a repeater. Properly prepared, he could safely say that he could shoot down a fly at his weapon's maximum range while taking into account wind interference and the fly's erratic movements. Since the upgraded crossbow he'd been provided with by Cocoa's team was both top-of-the-line and magically enchanted to the gills, accomplishing this task from this far away would be child's play.
Wait just a moment more, don't want too many things getting in the way of the shot, and...
A lever shifted, and the weapon trembled.
Glintlock waited for a few moments. Satisfied with what he saw, he locked the weapon's firing mechanism, returned it to its place and grabbed his guitar. You just run right here, he thought as his talons plucked the strings. I'll be waiting for you.
It's what I get for not ending the connection with Maverick when it became apparent that it wasn't needed. It's been half a minute after I finally got around to doing so, and Babs is still sniggering. I'm glad she's amused, but I wish she would stop.
I've been wondering more recently about how children really think, but that's likely to stay a mystery.
There's nothing else that needs to be said between us, so I'm just retracing my steps back to the entrance. The playground Babs had gone to was a fair ways away: I've been walking for a few minutes at a solid clip, and I'm still about a third of a mile from where I entered, give or take. I haven't been accosted by any drones since I left the playground, though I know they're out there. It's just a matter of time before things get ugly again.
A random thought, but seeing Median Park in all its splendor is reminding me of something I haven't considered in a while. Back home in an age past, a Maverick attack sent a certain space colony plummeting to the earth. A brave Reploid volunteered to crash a shuttle into the colony mid-way. The resulting explosion successfully destroyed most of the facility, preventing mass extinction at the cost of that Reploid's life... though the resulting debris remained a destructive reminder of the threat that Mavericks posed.
I've never been to Area Zero before. The site where the debris struck the earth was cordoned off after the event, and no one's been allowed to visit it ever since. I have seen satellite imagery of the area in recent years, though, and the Area has become a veritable forest in its own right. I discussed this with Harpuia once, and he suggested that some of the colony's systems remained intact enough for them to influence nature around the site.
Which makes me wonder if encouraging the further growth of Area Zero could be considered a viable undertaking? It's something to think about after the whole Weil issue is dealt with, never mind this one. I'll put a tab on that for now.
Babs has finally stopped laughing. While I can't see her up there, I can only assume she's enjoying the novelty of seeing the world from that high off the ground. I wonder if she's feeling jealous of the pegasi right now.
I make a turn past where I'd previously destroyed a set of trip wires...
"Gghhkkk!"
...just as something grazes my upper arm in passing, singeing the sleeve and tearing off the synthskin beneath before disappearing somewhere. It didn't pass through the frame, thankfully, but X alive that stung. So much for not being attacked!
Babs gasps. I can hear her hooves shuffling on the helmet as she shifts positions, probably to get a better view of my sudden wound. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just a scrape," I hiss, ducking down out of view behind some bushes. Don't want her involved in this, don't want her involved in this... "Head back out of the park the way you got in, and don't go off course. Look for two ponies in prison uniforms; they're the helpers I told you about. They should be at the entrance with the Police."
"You're sure?"
"Yes." I face away from her towards where the bolt had come from, summoning my Javelin. "Go, please. I'll handle this!"
Babs doesn't need further encouragement. She jumps down off my head and gallops down the path as fast as her little legs can carry her, leaving me free to continue my assignment.
Glintlock picks that moment to start mocking me: at the very edge of my hearing, unhindered by any other noise, he's decided to pass the time by playing music. And of course, being the backwoods hunter he is, it has to be on an acoustic guitar. Smug little bird-lion.
With Babs gone, the drones that have been giving me a wide berth have decided to close in on me. An entire swarm's worth of modified Magiflies are closing in: probably the entire Park's worth, if I had to guess. By themselves, they were nothing. As a group...
...still nothing, given that they don't react to me materializing a Spirit of the Ocean. They're just flying head-long at me, probably looking to attach themselves to me with their hooks and stingers. They aren't breaking into any sort of attack pattern: it's just a head-long rush, so maybe they don't have any energy projectors?
It doesn't matter. I leap atop the Spirit as it fully forms and direct it towards the thickest part of the swarm. I trust its homing ability to ensure it continues to fly at any targets, and I keep myself balanced as it twists and turns. Any and all drones that fly into the Spirit are smashed apart like cardboard walls before a wrecking ball.
I stoop down and place my left hand on the Spirit's back, channeling additional ice to repair any minor damage it picks up from the swarm's suicide attack. All the while I keep my Javelin spinning with my right hand, slicing through any that come close. Ah, multi-tasking. Don't you love it?
Of course, that still leaves my left side temporarily unguarded. One of the Magiflies is able to attach itself to my arm, though its stinger isn't able to pierce my frame. If that was all it could've done, I would've just left it alone until everything else was destroyed.
Now, if only it didn't start glowing: prior evidence tells me that when they begin doing that, they're probably going to self-destruct and do damage that way. "Going to take a page out of your playbook, Fefnir," I mutter to myself... before smashing the Magifly against my forehead, the drone crumpling and breaking apart with a burst of fractured magic. My helmet's much sturdier than these Magiteched contraptions by a long shot.
I established back at the start of my narrative that I am not too different from Fefnir. I am not 'proud' of it in the strictest sense, but just know that it shouldn't come as a surprise to any of you, either.
...
My assault on the swarm continues in this fashion for a short time. I fly about above the trees and annihilate everything stupid enough to get too close while periodically repairing the Spirit to keep it from destabilizing. It's just as I finish my last swing, destroying four drones with a single Water Circle, that my radio buzzes. -"Hey, Leviathan? It's Magnum. Found a foal who says you sent her to find us. Is she the one you went in for?"-
"Red mane, brown coat, a little chubby, no Cutie Mark? Yes."
-"Seconded,"- the officer who had briefed me on arrival chimes in, his voice just loud enough for Magnum's radio to pick it up. -"She's the one, alright."-
-"The boys here are saying there's a small doctor's office across the street,"- Magnum continues. -"I'm thinking maybe we should take her there just to be on the safe side."-
"Did she get hurt on the way out?"
-"Not that I can see, and she's saying she's unharmed anyway,"- Magnum denies. -"But she's worried about you getting shot again."- Cute. -"I figure maybe the doctor's would be a safe place for her to wait for you."-
"...Probably," I decide. I direct the Spirit towards the area where the music is still playing as I reply. "I just got done dealing with the 'troops', if you want to call them that. I'm en route to Glintlock now."
-"We'll continue as planned, then,"- Magnum confirms. -"Have fun in there."-
The radio clicks off. 'Have fun in there', she says. Their definition of 'fun' needs some work. ... Oh, well. We've seen how ponies and dragons fight so far today. Let's have a look at how griffons handle combat.
...
I haven't been flying for long when something... no, more like a series of somethings... strikes the Spirit from the ground, causing the ice dragon to break apart. I leap off the Spirit's back and let myself drop, landing easily in a spacious field dotted here and there with trees and bushes. Off in the near distance is a terrace of some kind, so assuming I read that map correctly, I'm more or less in the middle of the Park. The music is loudest here, and I'm able to pick out my target perching in one of the larger trees.
Glintlock's appearance is everything his profile had painted him to be. His armor bears similarities to Trifecta's, though his is more of a mottled green and brown compared to Trifecta's brighter blue-green... camouflage purposes, I'm assuming. Instead of a gas mask, he's wearing a set of goggles with tinted lenses, along with the same hat that his profile's photo depicted him with.
And for the life of me, I still can't remember what that hat is called. Why is that of all details bothering me?
The griffon 'tsks' quietly. "Well, if that doesn't beat all. All of that flailing had a purpose. You're still alive."
"Did you expect otherwise?" I retort, shifting into my battle-ready pose and aiming the Javelin at him. "You're dealing with a career soldier, not a lamb to the slaughter. I'm a professional. I've already had to prove it to Trifecta and Metallium. I'll prove it to you, as well."
"A professional, you say?" Glintlock halts his music, leaving his guitar in the crook of a branch and taking wing. "How about that...? Then I'll have you know that I consider myself a professional as well."
He takes his weapon off his back, giving it a brief examination. Despite its unfamiliarity to me, I can tell that it appears much more polished and---dare I say---modern than the stationary crossbows I destroyed earlier. "When you make your living in the wilds, robot, you have to know where to draw the line. I abide by three very special standards, the same ones that my father taught me, and his father in turn. They have carried me through my career as a hunter. They will continue to do so today."
"And those standards are?"
"The ones that mark whether a hunter lives or dies. Be polite..."
"Well, good news: she's okay," Doctor Flour declared jovially as he finished looking Babs over. As his medical practice bordered Median Park, the Police officers and prisoners had asked him to check the filly for injury. "Nothing major, nothing minor. The picture of perfect health." He fished an apple-flavored candy out of his coat and gave it to Babs, smiling as he watched her face light up upon receiving it.
His smile left him when he saw the Officers' befuddled faces. "Is something wrong?"
"Well, it's good that she's fine," one of them answered. "It's just that... well, you've heard about why the park was blockaded, right?"
"Something about one of those that attacked the city being holed up in there?" Flour wondered.
"Yes," the other Officer confirmed. "Median Park was blanketed in traps. Anypony who willingly entered the park knowing that would've put themselves in jeopardy."
"So how did little Miss Seed manage to get so far without getting hurt?" the first Officer finished.
"Well... maybe the one responsible is a nice guy?" Flour suggested.
Both officers gave him unsure looks. Maverick's face was pure 'what-have-you-been-on', and Magnum was irritably shaking her head. Flour's ears turned down. "Yeah, that was pretty stupid. Sorry."
"...be efficient..."
MULTIPLE THREATS INBOUND!
The Radar proves its worth again. With a spin, the Javelin's blade deflects four bolts that had been flying towards me from the bushes. More traps. Lovely.
Glintlock is aiming his weapon down at me. His expression doesn't change, but his voice emphasizes that he's viewing me as the prey in this relationship. "...have a plan to kill everything you meet."
I should be angry at that. Should be. What was that term Ebony used once? ... Ah, yes; his statement was pure 'cheese'. But I suppose if I could make my statements ooze with confidence, I could say whatever I wanted without argument. Magically-enhanced crossbow bolts aimed straight at your face can and will sap the humor out of the room.
And the bolts are fast, too. I'm able to tilt my head enough that the first bolt does little more than skim past the side of my helmet, but after that I'm forced to run. The next three bolts he fires are aimed at my neck, chest, and my right knee with pinpoint precision, and it's only through a timely Dash that I'm able to evade all three. Any doubts I had that Glintlock's bolts could damage ceratanium are silenced when the fourth one pierces cleanly through a boulder and into the ground without any loss in speed. Whoever's been studying magic over there knows what they're doing; they've turned a primitive weapon into the closest they're going to get to laser weaponry for centuries.
The most impressive part about this is that his aim is just as semi-automatic as his weapon. His focus isn't wavering, his reflexes are hair-trigger, and his weapon is shifting position as quickly I am. The last time I saw an aim that was this on-point was before Zero killed Phantom. It's for the best that he chose to live life in the wilds as a hunter instead of in civilization as an assassin; any underworld elements would pay through the nose to hire him!
The gun emplacements that have been set up behind every bush in range aren't making things any more fun. Their ammunition doesn't have the same velocity or piercing ability that Glintlock's weapon does, but they can still sting---and thus, distract. If I'm going to devote my time to thwarting him, I have to spare a few seconds to get rid of them. And that's going to require splitting my attention.
Scanning...
"Sssst!" One of said bolts grazes my knuckles, getting a hiss out of me. I sidestep a shot from Glintlock that would qualify as a low blow if I had the biological processes for it.
Scanning...
Two more shots aimed at my dominant hand, which drops to keep them from hitting. Come on, scoundrel. You've got to be running low on ammunition for your weapon by now.
Scanning...
By coincidence, I'm facing in the direction of an emplacement as it fires at me again. I jettison a spearhead at it, trusting in its tracking ability to do the rest, and do a mid-air twist that keeps Glintlock's next shot from connecting. I'm rewarded when a shower of wood and metal confirms that crossbow's destruction.
Scanning...
"Slippery little bunny," I can hear the griffon muttering as he continues to target me. "Welp, can't say I didn't ask for a challenge..."
Alright, just a few things. One, WHY is he still firing at me? Even automatic weapons need to be reloaded eventually.
And two, those are fish fins on my helmet, not rabbit ears.
Scanning...
There are holes scattered around the battleground, all of them caused by Glintlock's personal weapon. I pass by one in particular, situated behind the boulder that his fourth shot had tunneled through. I can just barely see the bolt buried within...
...right before a mottled green glow---the same shade as my enemy's armor---wraps around it. With a brief flare of light, the bolt fades from reality...!
Have to evade another barrage here, almost got one right between the eyes... alright, I can ask the obvious questions now: Is this why Glintlock is able to maintain his firing rate? Is his ammunition enchanted not just to pierce the toughest of metals, but also to return to his magazine after a pre-set time period? Because if so, this would explain why he is able to keep the pressure on---
“AAGH!”
...I knew I was doing too well maneuvering on land up until now. A fancy sidestep to get around another set of shots, and it’s resulted in me faceplanting. Fine time for my hot streak to end: right in the middle of a pitched fight---!
I hear a shot pierce through something in one of my boots, not quite hitting my foot but damaging some vital components all the same. Dash Thrusters: 50%, my HUD warns me.Left thruster offline.
Not good, not good---!
Scanning...
“What have we got here?” I can hear Glintlock taunting me overhead. “Just a dead little jackrabbit. How about you call it a day? Nothing personal, ma’am, but I’m just better.”
"My generator is still operational," I snarl at him, leveling the Javelin at him from my prone position. "And as long as it is, I'm not done."
"Oh, don't be like that," he purrs, centering his weapon on my helmet's jewel. "I'd be willing to record your final words for posterity. Of course, the price for that would be your shattered carcass, but nothing is ever free."
"My final words, huh?" You really shouldn't have given me that much to work with, hunter. "In that case, I've got a few for you."
"And those would be...?"
"Permafrost Squirrel."
Before he can think to question those words, the Javelin's head gyrates rapidly with a high-pitched whir. I hang on tight to my weapon as it soars towards Glintlock. I inwardly smirk as his countenance shifts from confidence to alarm.
Credit where credit is due, he retains the presence of mind to fly away from the first strike and shoot down at me. He isn't expecting the whirling weapon to deflect his shot to the side, nor does he anticipate me steering the Javelin at him in mid-air. I trigger the Squirrel again, aiming straight for him---
Glintlock fires once more, this time taking the Javelin's revolutions into account. The bolt slips past the blade, my face its destination---
I shift and loosen my grip on the Javelin, falling out of position. The bolt misses my face, but rips a large gash in the side of my helmet. The griffon's eyes have just enough time to widen before one of my boots rises to meet him, striking his armor's chest piece squarely and causing it to crack.
Glintlock recovers quickly and attempts to adjust his aim, wings flapping furiously---but 'quickly' is not fast enough. I cut the second Squirrel short, regaining control of the weapon; from here, it's as easy as aiming and firing again. This time my strike connects, tunneling straight through his crossbow repeater and shredding it---ammunition and all---into a multitude of shrapnel and wooden shavings. He isn't able to express any sort of indignation before the Javelin reaches his chest piece, finishing what my kick began by splitting it apart.
The scaly armor beneath resists the Squirrel like a champion, but it doesn't protect him from the force brought on by the Javelin's velocity. The griffon hunter is blown downwards, impacting the ground near his tree with enough strength to shake it.
Glintlock rolled to his feet, muttering to himself at all the aches he was feeling. Hitting the ground from that high up hurt.What a loss of a perfectly good crossbow... But no matter. I'll just borrow one from the traps, and---
He never finished that thought. Jarred loose by the impact, his guitar dropped from its branch down onto his head with an audible "KA-BONG". His noggin rattled alongside his thoughts, he couldn't do any more than mumble: "...Shouldn't have got out of bed this morning" before he collapsed, a soft groan escaping his beak.
The pieces of his toy rained down, with Leviathan not far behind. She let her undamaged boot hit the ground first, keeping herself from staggering. She straightened, examining the downed griffon intently. Satisfied that he was down for the count, she raised her hand towards the sky in victory as a glimmer of light flashed off her helmet's jewel.
Scan complete. Locations of remaining crossbows identified.
"Took long enough," I complain without any real heat behind it, lowering my hand. "Could've used that sooner."
My... my eyes are tingling. It's not effecting my vision negatively, and it doesn't really hurt, but it's still an off-putting sensation.
-Password broken. Hunter operational. Allows user to see invisible or camouflaged objects. Shuts off vision in one eye as a tradeoff, limiting range.-
Quick test run here... My right eye just went completely dark. It's not different from just closing it, so it isn't as unsettling as one might think. As for the inactive gun emplacements that I identified the locations of, I can see them all as plain as day through my left eye. The foliage that conceals them might as well not even be there.
I feel I should clarify the difference between this and the Subsurface Radar. With the Radar, there's no real visual detail. While I can see hidden objects and ponies with it, everything's muddied; it's like a math equation on the wall that you can't quite see by squinting. The world exists entirely in outlines. Put two ponies with the exact same build, mane and tail styles next to each other, and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between them without checking their Cutie Marks.
Hunter, on the other hand, trades range for clarity; I can see everything that should be seen just by sacrificing half my normal vision. There's a family of rabbits hiding in a burrow behind the tree Glintlock was in when I arrived: two parents, one black-and-white, the other pure white; along with six youngsters, four of whom have their father's coloration. I had literally no way of knowing any of this before the password was broken. I never circled around the tree throughout the entire battle.
Extra credit question: can we combine the two systems? Let's see... And the answer to that question is "yes". I can see the rabbits, but they and the burrow exist solely as outlines in my left eye. Still, it bumps up my energy consumption, so I will need to be mindful of that.
Now, about this new weapons technique that's joined me for the ride...
-Analyzing Crossbow Repeater...-
There we go. Took it a little bit.
-Scanning... 8%... 29%... 55%... 78%... Done.-
My Javelin aims itself at the sky, rapidly firing off spearheads one after the other. It doesn't stop until the same number of projectiles as there are gun emplacements are all airborne. I watch them as they fly around above me for a time before they home in and destroy the turrets, maneuvering around the foliage to accomplish this. The so-called "hardware limitations" that had been imposed on the weapon have been circumvented.
-Reconfiguration Complete. EX Skill gained: Gatling Harpoon. Allows the three-projectile limit to be broken. User can attack with as many spearheads in unison as needed, provided that enough energy for the weapon is available. One unit of energy per usage. Twenty-eight units total.-
I'm getting stronger. Little by little, my powers are increasing with each enemy I defeat. I had my own private doubts as to whether I would be able to face Weil at my best when I returned, but those doubts are gone now. Someday soon, I will be able to stand alongside Zero as an equal and prove my worth to Neo Arcadia once more.
Of course I still have to reach that point, but that's for the future. For now, where's that Reddocite?
After we left the park, Babs was the first to greet us: she barreled out of an office across the street and scampered over to check me out. I was fully healed, of course; she couldn't find the wound I received while escorting her because it just wasn't there anymore. I assured her that everything was fine, and she was happy leaving it at that.
...
Glintlock regains consciousness as I turn him over to the Police. He was perturbed, but it has shifted to resignation as the Officers read him his rights, cuff him and restrain his wings. Compared to Trifecta and Metallium, he seems more tired than either of them.
"Hey-hey, Levi! What's going on here?"
I sigh softly. Not the time for a social visit, I tell the voice silently, though I acknowledge him anyway. The more upbeat of the two griffons I've met is ambling down the street, and I nod at him when he gets close enough. "Gilbert. How do you do?"
"Great, just great, and---" Gilbert gets a good look at our captive, and his sentence cuts off in the middle. His eyes shoot open as he squawks, clearly taken back. "Whoa, dude! I know that face! That's Glintlock! He's got a Wanted list a mile long back home! What's he doing here?"
"Have you heard about yesterday's explosions?" I tell him curtly. "He was the source of one of them. I was hired to catch those responsible."
The cashier chuckles. "Bounty hunter. Nopony believed me when I said what you were, but I called it. Absolutely called it!"
It's nice to catch up with a familiar face, but I've got work to do. "Look, Gilbert. Unless you've got some means of taking him off our hands... or hooves, case depending... would you let us go about our business, please?"
"Chillax, Levi. Chillax. I know a few griffons who'd be willing to take him back to Griffonstone," Gilbert suggested, the gears in his head obviously turning. For some reason, Glintlock's eyes have dilated fearfully in response. Is there something more there than just facing justice for his crimes? "If you don't mind paying them, that is. We ain't in the habit of doing stuff for free."
Hmm... "Hold that thought," I say, raising a finger to silence him. I open the line to the Police station. "Officer Coffee, given the crimes that Glintlock's carried out on Equestrian soil, would they take precedence over those in the Griffon Kingdom?"
The line is quiet for a time, though I can hear Coffee rummaging around. -"Based on what I can find,"- she finally says, -"no. As injurious as his actions were, none of the wounds he dealt the Police were lethal or otherwise intended to be. Now, if he had actually killed any of our officers, or if Ms. Seed had been hurt, every lawful pony in the city would be clamoring to have him put away for life. As things stand, the Griffon Kingdom gets dibs due to the sheer scope of his hunting. Once he's paid for his crimes there, a case here in Manehattan will be filed."-
I relay the gist of Coffee's reply to those listening. Most of them, including Gilbert, are nodding. "How soon can you get in contact with your associates, then?" I inquire of him.
"They're in different parts of the city. Gonna have to do some back-and-forth..." Gilbert thinks aloud, one talon near his chin. "Maybe four griffons minimum to keep him in line... it'll be a few hours before I can get them all together."
"Two? Three?" I ask. "Two and a half?"
"Make it three," he decides. "Better safe than sorry, y'know?"
Excellent. "That will work. Officers?" I wait for their salutes before I continue. "Take Glintlock back to the Department and keep him under lock and key for now, preferably in a cell away from Trifecta. If they can get any information out of him, terrific; if not, don't beat yourselves up over it. In approximately three hours, bring him outside the First Equestrian Bank of Manehattan and wait to transfer him. Gilbert?"
"Yeah? Whassup?"
"Have your associates meet me there at that time. We can get your group paid, turn Glintlock over to you, and get that business taken care of all at once."
Gilbert's beak falls open. Glintlock's does as well, though it's the former who speaks. "Dudette," he states quietly. "Like, no hesitation at all. The mercenary attitude usually stumps 'em."
"I'm from a society that manifested long after the more traditional forms of currency were dead and gone," I tell him. "I just don't have as strong a desire for them as some do. I can afford to part with some if it's required." And when you get right down to it, paper and rocks are silly things to get worked up over anyway. A glass of clean water is much more valuable, especially if it is hard to get.
While Gilbert parses that, another officer speaks up. "What about those traps? Is it safe to open up the park?"
"Not yet," I say with a head shake. "I'm going to make a quick pass through the park and disable the traps. Continue keeping the area blocked off until I give the all-clear, then get in contact with the park staff and have them help you clear out all of the debris. Once I'm done, I'm heading straight for Madisoat Square Garden to catch the figure skater. Barring a disaster, I'll be able to make the meeting at the bank in three hours."
"What about the kid?" Magnum pipes up, gesturing at Babs. The child seems overwhelmed by everything that's going on, not sure whether to look at me, the griffons, or the Police. "Is it safe for her to go home?"
"It should be... hold on a moment." From our talk in the park, Babs has had a rough go of it lately. I can't ease her troubles myself, but I know somepony who can. "Anypony have scrap paper and a pencil handy? There's something I'd like to give her..."
...
"Before I forget," I say to Gilbert a short time later while Magnum and Maverick give Babs an escort from the area. "There's a word I heard you use before. 'Chillax'. What does that mean?"
"Combination 'chill' and 'relax'," Gilbert says simply. "You need to get out more."
A beaming grin takes shape. "That," I answer slowly, "is the best word I've ever heard."
His own smile can't denote anything but agreement. "I know, right?"
The figure skater that Ignition was calling for lounged in her seat, watching those below her putting the finishing touches on the ice rink that they'd been working on since she'd set up shop. "Hm?"
-"Neither Agents #1 nor #3 are responding to our calls. And approximately five minutes ago, we lost all contact with #2. Assuming that she knows where you are, the living machine's coming for you."-
Statuette looked up at the ceiling and sighed sadly. "Our new armor hasn't been doing the job it was allegedly designed to do, Mr. Ignition. It was supposed to be the ultimate in protection."
-"More likely Leviathan has been taking advantage of its lone weak point, though that does not explain how she defeated #3. She is nothing but armor."-
Statuette thought back to the briefing that had been provided a few nights before. The dragon scale mail was impervious to all forms of attack, including powerful impacts, but those wearing the armor were not. The enchanted armor pieces were specially made to negate inertia and other outside forces, keeping the wearers from being harmed by said impacts. In theory, any of the agents could be struck by a train at full speed and consequently walk away without injury. But if those pieces were destroyed by a direct attack... "I'll try to figure out some way to turn this to my advantage, but it doesn't look promising. I'm an athlete, not a tactician or warrior."
-"So noted," Ignition intoned. -"If you are unable to do any lasting damage to Leviathan, turn yourself in. If you are interrogated, take all the appropriate measures to prevent information from spreading. We will plan to recover our agents once Mr. Mocha has passed the reins to the successor of his will."-
A resigned nod. "How much longer?"
In response, a hacking cough that made Statuette flinch manifested over the connection. She realized as it happened that Cocoa Mocha had been listening to the conversation. -"Not... long,"- her leader rasped, his lungs struggling to work. -"But... my ideals and hopes... are not so easily silenced. This world must... see a new sunrise. A new majesty."- She got the impression that he was smiling. -"From disaster... to death... and everything in-between... I always come back."-
It's an old adage that you cannot kill an idea, Statuette thought as the connection ended. All it takes is one individual to pick up on it, and it gets passed on and on to everypony. I gathered that his successor will be a die-hard supporter of his that we haven't met yet, so in a strange way it's true that he'll be coming back. It will just be in the form of his ideals instead of his direct physical presence.
She surveyed the ice rink and nodded with satisfaction, deciding that it was as complete as it was going to get. Getting up, she took the canvas bag containing her skates and left to prepare herself. But for now, I have one last show to prepare for. If they do not have my music available, I am going to be very displeased.
And I should probably make myself a sandwich while I'm waiting. This may be my last chance to enjoy Grand Pear's produce for a while.
An hour and a half later...
Knock knock knock knock.
Ebony's ears twitched at the noise. "Again? We usually don't get more than one visitor a day," she muttered, putting down her book ("A Dozen Innovations In Rat Catching", by Road Dentures) and trotting for the door. On opening it, she was greeted with an unfamiliar filly; another pony, probably one of her parents, looked on close by. "Hi. Can I help you?" she asked politely.
"Hello. Um... I was told that there were ponies here who wouldn't laugh at me just because I didn't have my Cutie Mark?" the little filly inquired, shuffling her hooves a little. She was trying to put on a brave face, but her meekness was as plain as day.
Ebony blinked, caught off guard. "I can't think of why we'd do that," she stated after a moment, "but that's a weird thing to say out of the blue. Who told you to find us?"
"The blue robot," the filly said. "Leviathan."
Ebony shuddered involuntarily, but steeled herself and considered what she'd just been told. "Huh... well, I don't have anything else to do right now, so I guess I can hear you out. Come on in. ...Zig-Zag? Pure Energy? We've got a visitor!..."
...
And so it was that Babs was introduced to the Ghost-Guard children, minus Fiver (who refused to leave her mother's side while she was resting). While there, she noted that Zig-Zag didn't have his Cutie Mark yet either. As she learned that he'd started to reach the point where ponies were teasing him for it, his ability to shrug it off notwithstanding, it fully sunk in that she wasn't the only one in the city with that problem.
By the time she left the building a little later, she was significantly happier than she'd been that morning. Her parents noted her improved mood and resolved to add Gray's family to their address book. Later, their letters to their extended family elsewhere in Equestria would make mention of this experience.
It helped that the leftover cherryade was tasty.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
I snap my fingers in realization. Stetson! That's the name I was looking for!
Once Glintlock was taken away and Gilbert left to collect his fellow griffons, I made several passes through Median Park to find and locate all of the traps that had been set. Using Hunter and the Radar in tandem made finding them almost ridiculously easy, though it still took a decent bite out of my Energen reserves. Maverick and Magnum rejoined me after they safely dropped off Babs Seed at home, and they were able to help free a few animals that had bungled into the snares.
I might be reading too much into it, but I think that big weasel I'd met seemed thankful that the traps were gone. It wouldn't surprise me if it were true.
After an hour and a half's work, I was able to say for a certainty that all of the traps had been disarmed. I informed the Police that it was safe to summon the Park's staff to clean everything up. With another hour and a half to go before making the meeting with Gilbert's group at the bank, I asked Coffee-and-Cream for any information on my fourth---and presumably final---mission of the day.
I'm currently parsing through the information I've been given while I'm on my way to Madisoat Square Garden, and the good Officer had plenty to offer on both the facility and the target's status. There's a decent amount of the former, and it's honestly fairly interesting. I'll spare you most of the details and share the pertinent information only.
Madisoat is one of two such "Gardens" in the city (the other being Madison Mare), and was built approximately 40 years ago. It's been used for just about every public event conceivable: sports, music, yearly political conferences by the city's mayor, nerd conventions, trade shows, you name it. Shortly before I came to town, it was even used as the focal point for this year's "Summer Sun Celebration", a holiday commemorating Princess Celestia's defeat of somepony who desired an endless night.
And apparently, that defeat is the reason why a unicorn's likeness is on the moon. My logic centers have been taking a beating this month. I can't wait to return home. At least there, everything made some sense.
Anyway, when I said "every public event conceivable", I was not kidding. When Statuette took over the facility, she instructed those workers present to swap out the arena's current flooring with an ice rink and lower the temperature accordingly. Her specialties according to Coffee lay in figure skating, ice dancing, and to a lesser extent speed skating. Like Glintlock before her, she's trying to maximize her home field advantage.
Not that it's going to do her any good. I might not have ever partaken in figure skating myself, but I know a thing or two about maneuvering on ice, and I've seen what some of Neo Arcadia's citizenry get up to when they're bored enough. In addition, if the same pattern that Shining Armor and his girlfriend identified is present here like it was back home, then Statuette's going to try to fight me using my own element. The cold and ice aren't going to harm me any more than electricity ever will.
The only thing that concerns me is that Statuette's been reported as carrying a sword shaped like her Cutie Mark. Depending on how sharp it is, it could conceivably damage me. Both Trifecta and Glintlock were able to do just that with their equipment, so it's logical to assume that she may be capable of doing the same.
But with that, there's something bothering me. I turn to Maverick after I stick a Double Jump-assisted landing on a rooftop. Both she and Magnum are keeping pace with me. "How is a pony expected to wield a sword?" I ask. "Do they just use their teeth?"
"Is this about Statuette?" Maverick answers, to which I nod. "If you're an earth pony who can't stand on their hind legs for very long, yeah. On the other hoof, if you're a pegasus, then you have another option available if you don't mind staying ground-bound."
Is she implying what I think she's implying? "Are a pegasus's wings that flexible?"
Magnum smirks at the question. "Yes. Surprised?"
I am, but that's no reason to give her an edge. "Elaborate, please."
The thievery addict does as instructed. "Any pegasus that's sufficiently trained their wings can hold small objects in them. They don't have the some kind of flexibility that your hands do, not without... what are those smaller digits on the sides called?"
"Thumbs."
"Right, those. Anyhoo, even without those, she'll be able to wield a sword just by wrapping her wing around the hilt. Neat, huh?"
I shake my head, not out of denial but out of awe. "You keep saying that I'm something else, but I could say the same thing about you. I was expecting your wings to be closer to those of birds."
"That's a common misconception," Maverick claims. She eyes me for a moment with a face I can't identify. "Buuuut since you're an otherworldly alien, I can forgive you for not knowing. Look up a picture of a pegasus's skeleton sometime at the library and be amazed."
...You know what? I just might do that. But that'll keep for when this job is done. That little tidbit on their wings is going straight to my "Need to Know" folder. All the better to keep from being surprised when Statuette inevitably tries to use her weapon against me.
Magnum's ears twitch. "We're getting close. I can hear somepony cheering."
"I'm going to assume that's not for us," I remark.
Both pegasi laugh at this, to which I join in. It's self-deprecating, but it still counts. Hey, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?
It turns out that I was on the mark. There's a crowd of about sixty ponies gathered outside Madisoat, most of them cheering for Statuette, waving around memorabilia and calling for her to make an appearance. A few of them are trying--and failing--to push past the beleaguered Officers and facility staff guarding one of the front entrances. Nopony seems to realize we're here yet, even though we're standing just a little ways behind them.
I raise a hand to my helmet. "Coffee, I've arrived at Madisoat," I inform her; my escorts hover close to my head in order to listen in. "There seems to be a civilized riot in progress. The fans here either haven't gotten the hint about Statuette being a suspected criminal, they don't care, or they don't believe it."
"'Civilized riot'," Magnum mutters. "That's a contradiction for the books."
-"Have they seen you yet?"- Coffee asks me.
"No," I say.
-"Check the other doors. Anypony else in front of them?"-
I nod meaningfully at my escorts, and they do a quick flight around the building. They're not gone for more than fifteen seconds or so given their speed, and I send their report to Coffee once they get back. "Everypony's gathered at these doors specifically."
-"If so, then the other entrances are probably locked, and the rooftop doors are for emergencies only..."- Coffee ponders for a bit. -"Try distracting the crowd somehow."-
Hmm. Distraction, distraction, distraction, IDEA. The Javelin's immediately in my hand. "One distraction coming right up."
Limefrost Spiral was having a very frustrating day.
That morning, she had ventured on down to Median Park for her morning jog. When she arrived, she had discovered that every path through the park was blocked off by the Police. When she questioned them, she told them that everypony was being kept out "for their own safety". She was annoyed, but there was nothing that she could do about it. She settled for making a few laps around one of the city's smaller parks instead.
And none of the stallions at Median looked cute or rich. That's even worse.
Following that, deciding to satisfy her curiosity, she set out to see if Charity Kindheart's residence was still on the market... and found out far too late that the property had already been bought and closed on. There were other high-class places in the city, but she'd had her eye on that one specifically for a month. She left the real estate office disappointed.
Immediately following lunch, she went to her art supplier to pick up her latest shipment of paint and canvases. She arrived to find a sign on the door that read "Closed Until Further Notice - We Apologize For The Inconvenience". It took several minutes for her to realize that the office next door was Caution-taped off and abandoned, its upper floors blackened and ruined. A few more minutes passed before she was able to connect that to why her shipment was being delayed.
Unknown to her, the office had been one of the locations picked by Cocoa Mocha's forces as the basis for their explosive distraction. In a hurry to run and hide back home out of fear that his livelihood would be next, the arts-and-crafts store owner had just enough time to switch off the lights and slam the 'Closed' sign on the door before bolting. It would not be until later that he would be convinced to re-open his shop.
It was while the dejected artist was on her way home that she thought she'd heard some passing ponies say to each other: "Have you heard? Statuette's performing at Madisoat, and the Police are trying to arrest her!" Now, Limefrost couldn't care less about what why the Police wanted to arrest her. What Limefrost did care about, and what she focused on, was that somepony on her "List of Famous Figures I Like" was in town and performing. Without hesitation she galloped past the gossiping ponies she'd heard, heading straight for Madisoat in hopes of getting a ticket.
There were a bunch of other ponies outside the gorgeous facility when she arrived, and apparently they all wanted the same thing she did. She joined them, working her way towards the front of the crowd and shouting for the Police to let them in...
"WHAAA!"
Only to unexpectedly lose all of her traction. Half her hooves went one way, and the other half went the opposite way; she slipped and nearly fell. Valiantly, she fought to keep her balance on the suddenly slick cement. What's happening?!
Around her were the confused cries of ponies who were experiencing the same thing. One of them bumped into her from behind, eliciting an undignified yelp as she pitched forward onto her chin. She skidded to a stop just a few paces short of where the Police were standing. Dimly, she wondered just why the ground felt so cold all of sudden---
A rush of air: the Police were opening the doors! "Let me in!" Limefrost cried, scrambling to get her hooves beneath her---
She never got there in time. A pair of boots landed bare centimeters in front of her and bolted inside, startling her into stopping. Two sets of shadowy wings fluttered past, then all three figures disappeared. Hastily, the Police shut the doors again before anypony else could enter. Another opportunity had been wasted before it could be utilized.
Limefrost didn't have the best memory for names and faces unless they were important to her, but she sure as Celestia's sun recognized those feet---and that recognition helped her fill in the blanks. All desire to see Statuette skate briefly disappeared. The artist's face contorted in anger and took a shape that on-lookers would later describe as 'hilarious'. "Leviathan, you love-stealing pool-splashing lunatic! Get back here!" she yelled, continuing to struggle to push herself upright.
There's that feeling again: a sensation as if somepony with more beauty than brains was trying to threaten me. I don't know how else to describe it.
My co-horts are feeling the same thing. "Do you hear that noise?" Magnum wondered.
Maverick shrugged. "Probably the sound of somepony being an idiot."
"That's the second time I've had that feeling in the last few days," I add. "I wish I knew what's causing it." Though it isn't a priority by any stretch. I'm going to dismiss it for now until it becomes relevant. It's not going to take long before that ice melts, after all.
My team flies behind me as I follow the nearby music towards the arena proper, deciding to take a better look at this facility when I don't have so much going on in my schedule. I'm sure it has quite the history behind it, judging by some of the display cases and posters (one of them's advertising a competition that I'm sure Fefnir could've gotten behind), but I don't have a ton of time before I have to meet with Gilbert's group at the bank.
Speaking of the music, it's very lovely. There's a lot of emphasis on violins here. "Do either of you know what this song is called?"
"Not my jam," Maverick states bluntly, following it up with a yawn.
"I should know this... my mom's heavily into music from that era," Magnum complains. "But for the life of me... blast it, what was that guy's name?..."
Somepony clears their throat from an entryway: a nondescript stallion in a uniform designating him as part of Madisoat's staff. "T-that would be part of the 'Four Seasons' by Priceless Works," he clarifies, shuffling his hooves awkwardly. "The... 'Winter' concerto, if I'm not mistaken."
I acknowledge his nervousness, not approaching him just yet. "Thank you. I'm here to bring in Statuette on the Royal Police's behalf, for her role in yesterday's disturbances and any crimes she may have committed today."
The stallion's ears turn down. "So it's true? She'd said when she took over the building that she'd taken part in that, but I didn't want to believe her..."
"Has she caused any problems?" Maverick asks for me.
The stallion regards her cautiously, then looks back at me. "Is she with you?"
"Yes. They both are. The Police chief already knows."
Still cautious but unwilling to give us any trouble, he continues talking. "She appeared this morning and forced us to swap out the arena flooring for an ice rink at sword-point. A few of us thought she was joking, but she was being completely serious."
"Ponies with swords typically are serious," I muse aloud. Which is more than I can say about ponies with hats. I'm picturing a pony with a winter hat on, and it's adorable... oh, they're staring at me. "Sorry. Keep going."
"...Anyway, we didn't want to do it at first," the worker continues. "But she looked like she was going to throw a hissy fit to end all hissy fits if any of us said 'no'. And... well, Statuette's a celebrity. What she wants, she gets."
"What she wants is to fight me specifically," I spell it out for him. "And in the next twenty minutes, her fame's not going to keep her from an overnight stay at the Police station at least."
The poor pony looks very confused. "'Fight'? Why would she want to fight anypony? Statuette's an athlete, not a soldier."
"That's a very good question, and we hope to ascertain that by the end of the day." I gesture at the entryway. "So, are we allowed to pass?"
"Um, yeah. Sure." The worker steps out of the way, an expression I don't recognize taking form. "She's down on the rink. And... try not to hurt her too much?"
That, I say to myself, is entirely up to her. I walk past the stallion into the seating area---
"I know that look," I hear Maverick say to the worker, her voice teasing. "You've got a crush on the ice skater, don't you?"
"Yes! No! ...Um, maybe. Was I that obvious?"
"Ahem."
Thankfully, that replicated sound is enough to spur the prisoners forward to join me again. Honestly, ponies here are just a little too much like humans sometimes.
...
Like at the Pyre, I find myself sitting on the steps on account of the seats being too small for me. Maverick and Magnum follow my lead, claiming two seats on my right for themselves. The bulk of the present arena staff are scattered around all over the place, watching the performance on the ice below.
Statuette's armor matches Trifecta's at its base, being comprised of dragon scales with accompanying neck and chest protection, but otherwise it couldn't be more different. Instead of it being a medium blue-green, it's a teal-and-white gradient that shines in the arena lights. She's made no attempt at hiding her face, confirming her identity for all to see. The sword that Coffee mentioned in her briefing is sheathed at her side. Instead of flamethrowers, she's gliding around the ice on a complete set of skates.
As she passes by where we're sitting, I'm able to get a good look at Statuette's face. Her eyes are closed, suggesting one of several things. First, she might just be enjoying the music that much. To be fair, it is very nice music. Two, she might be overconfident in her ability to deal with me, which might have some basis in reality depending on whether she's heard about the fates of her fellow conspirators or not. I'm rejecting this idea due to a simple fact: if Glintlock had his own radio, then it can be safe to assume that all of them had a means of keeping in contact.
And three: she's completely familiar with the routine she's practicing, having done it often enough that she doesn't need to keep her eyes open for very long. This to me makes the most sense: you'd think a pony would look pretty silly in ice skates--which she does, a little--but she knows what she's doing. Every move she makes on the ice possesses the sort of professionalism and grace that comes with countless hours of practice and rehearsal. There's a maneuver or two here that would be impossible for a human to pull off, but the reverse is true as well: that was a perfectly executed salchow jump just now.
I'm keeping my playful side clamped down. Part of me wants to join Statuette in her performance, and that's not going to contribute towards arresting her.
...Or will it?
Maverick's nudging me. "You're grinning," she whispers. Why is she sounding fearful---... oh. "Why are you grinning?"
"...I'm starting to feel like I've been living here too long," I whisper back, "because I have the biggest urge to jump down there and skate alongside her."
"Down, girl," Magnum hisses. "I get that water and ice are your things, but would you try to exercise common sense? Letting yourself almost get eaten by a dragon just to knock it out was bad enough, but having fun with a wanted criminal's full on crazy! And that's coming from an actual criminal!"
"If it's your old bosses, maybe. But I have a hunch that a professional athlete will be easier to deal with than an ex-officer, a hunter, and a dragon. Let alone a pair of former Royal Guards." When did I start wringing my hands, and why am I starting to feel excited? "She's not going to have the skill or the drive to outmatch somepony with actual combat training. If she's been keeping in contact with whomever her superiors are, she has to know that she won't last long. And yet... she's skating anyway."
"Feels like it's a trap to me," Maverick grumbles. "I don't like it."
"Most likely," I agree, "but if we want to arrest her, we don't have any choice but to spring it. If she knows we're here, she's not going to wait for us to meet her in the corridor before we fight." My smile's not leaving me. "And if there's anything I've learned from my experiences up until now, it's that you can't let yourself be held back by common sense in a place like Equestria."
Both ponies' ears droop. "We were worried that you would be a bad influence on ponies," Maverick realizes out loud, "but ponies are a bad influence on you instead."
That's making my smile leave. "Spend two weeks in the same building as Salamandra," I utter, "and see if your sanity doesn't take a few hits." Hopefully that didn't sound too much like a complaint. "Just keep an eye on things, you two. You're my backup plan."
The both of them silently agree, though their hesitation is obvious. That will have to do.
Stashing the Javelin for a moment, I get up and experimentally poke the glass barricade that separates the seating from the rink. It doesn't look like it's going to let me climb it without crashing down, but a double jump should give me all the height I need to get over it without touching it. I execute the maneuver, and a mid-air Dash carries me over the top and down onto the ice.
Occupied with what she was doing, Statuette's ears flicked as she heard a few odd sounds that she didn't recognize. Dismissing them as background noise, she continued moving in time with the music and giving it her all, even in practice. Gathering her strength, she twisted one way but jumped in another, propelling herself into a lutz---
Her eyes popped open as a pair of somethings gripped her just beneath her wings, hoisting her further into the air before letting go. Forcing herself to stay composed after almost falling victim to a sneak attack, she kept herself balanced and finished the jump the way it was meant to be. What was intended as a double lutz had unexpectedly turned into a triple, which hadn't been part of her routine for the 'Winter' season. Her eyes cast about for what had interrupted her, and she found the culprit quickly.
Took the self-proclaimed General long enough.
A blur of white and blue had joined her on the ice. The robot that she had been sent to kill was gliding alongside her, staying perfectly balanced and mobile despite not having any skates of her own. Leviathan hadn't armed herself yet, but was instead gesturing at the ice with a cheeky little smile. Perhaps picking up on Statuette's now attentive state, she twisted and jumped into a double lutz of her own, landing the way she was meant to.
Respect and anger warred in Agent #4's mind. The liftoff was perfect. The rotations... on point. The landing... is flawless. Is she showing off? She doesn't seem immediately hostile, but sneaking up on me like that was...!
Statuette forced back her indignation at being ponyhandled and skated backwards, intent on salvaging what was left of her routine. Leviathan was watching her and mimicking her movements as closely as possible, trying to match the pony's four-legged movements with her own two-legged stance. Letting myself lose my composure like that would have meant a point deduction if this had been a real competition. I will not repeat that mistake.
...
Making a wide circle around opposite ends of the rink as 'Winter's' final movement ended, both parties slowed down and drifted to a stop on one knee near center ice. Their eyes met across a fifteen-foot gap, exchanging pleasantries and hoofshakes before their owners did. From the seats, the unsure facility staff was applauding politely. Interrupting that quiet applause were several raucous cheers, the source of whom she did not recognize.
Statuette did not let the cheers distract her as they both stood up. "Impressive maneuverability," she admitted. "I daresay your footwear's a match for the genuine article. I would've liked to see what you could have done if you had been present from the beginning."
"Excellent adaptability," Leviathan stated in turn. "You adjusted to my presence quickly. Anypony else would have tried to kick me in the face when I lifted them up."
"To me, elegance means being able to adjust to changing circumstances," Statuette told her, voice cool yet strong. "I will not show weakness to an enemy."
Leviathan shrugged. "I wanted to have some fun before our battle. If I made myself known while you were aware, you would've stopped what you were doing immediately to fight me."
Statuette didn't know what to make of this. "I have made no secret of my connection to yesterday's incident, just as how you have made no secret of your affiliation with the Royal Police. How does 'fun' enter into the equation?"
"I saw you giving it your all out here," Leviathan explained clearly. "Everything you were doing looked enjoyable, and that isn't just my association with the cold talking. The longer I watched, the more I wanted to enjoy myself too. You weren't going anywhere, after all. I could afford to wait."
...Something tingled at the edges of Statuette's hearing. She started to dismiss it, but concluded quickly that it wasn't going to go away. A strange sensation, the likes of which she hadn't experienced since... "And how about it, Siren General? Have you had your fill of fun? It is time we got serious."
Taking part in that performance, even if it was only for a minute or two, had indeed made me happy. It was tricky trying to match Statuette's movements on the fly while skating to the time of an unfamiliar song, but I think I managed it well enough. If it weren't for my present circumstances, I would try to do this some more...
Wait...
What's this feeling? Why does it feel like reality's beginning to twist a little?
Hmm, that 'subtle twisting of reality'. I believe I remember describing it in those words before...
...
I can remember what happened that day at the aquarium. My feelings for my home and my desire to return there were strong enough that this world's magic took advantage of them. I could hear music playing that the surroundings were in no position to contribute.
It's happening to me again. It isn't the same song, but there's an electronic melody trying to build itself up. Was the magic picking up on my desire to continue playing on my home turf? Statuette's ears are flicking and rotating; is she hearing the same thing I am?
Oh, this is wonderful. I can definitely take advantage of this opportunity. "Tell me something," I request of my opponent. My grin's splitting my face so much, it almost hurts. "Are you familiar with the concept of combining work and play?"
So there is a smile behind that frozen mask she's wearing. "I have done so a time or two."
I put a bit of distance between us. It pleases me to know that she has the same thought in mind; if you need to build up speed on the ice, it helps if you have the room. "Just because we're on opposite sides doesn't mean we can't turn our battle into something friendlier. We have spectators to cheer us on. Think of how fun it is to be out on the ice. Is there any reason why your final dance shouldn't be one to remember?"
The music's gaining strength. I don't know how much of it is my doing, or if Statuette's contributing to this feeling. Either way, there's no more doubt that she's aware of what's happening. "Don't feel that you have to convince me, General. I've been wanting to do this from the outset."
My Javelin manifests itself, and I snap into my battle stance. "Then let's not waste any more time on idle chatter. Do your best, and have no regrets!"
"Agreed." True to what the prisoners have told me, Statuette pulls her sword free with her wing and points it at me without fumbling it. It's a shiny stylized rapier, a match for her Cutie Mark from her profile: long, thin compared to the majority of blades, sharp, and better utilized with pokes and stabs instead of swings and slashes. "Our grace will carry the day, and our dignity will earn us the victory!"
With enough power behind it, the heartsong finally takes full effect. It's not as calm and serene as the first one I triggered, but it still somehow fits. It makes me think of the late Poler Kamrous a little, oddly.
With the music backing us up, I raise my voice in unison with my opponent. "LET'S DUEL, AND MAY THE BEST ICE DANCER WIN!"
The enemy agent makes the first move, skating towards me and picking up speed as she goes. Her unburdened wing's aiding her here. With that much velocity, it won't be long until she closes the gap.
I decide to give her maneuverability a quick test as I get out of the way. My recently-gained Gatling Harpoon activates, and I direct five blades her way in rapid succession. I'm not seeing the need to just flood the air with them: I want to let her have fun against me without giving her any sort of edge, and making it impossible for her to move would ruin that.
Statuette's not disappointing me. She scoots right, then left to avoid the first two. For the third, she bends her knees and lowers her head to drop below it, then counters the fourth by jumping and kicking it with one of her skates edge-first. The kicked blade flies out of control back at the fifth, causing them both to crash into the boards.
The skates must've been provided to her by those that sanctioned yesterday's attacks, I hypothesize as she lands. Store-bought sporting equipment shouldn't be sharp or durable enough to deal that sort of damage.
I glide close to the boards, keeping myself out of range of Statuette's sword for the moment. I'm refraining from using my Dash Thrusters; each usage of them creates a short-lived burst of heat, and while they're not enough to warm up the air at large, they would still cause any ice directly beneath my feet to start melting.
As the remaining three blades circle back towards her, approaching her at different angles, Statuette waits, bends her knees... then leaps. Her powerful bound carries her through the motions of a triple axel, the jump that her profile claimed she was the best at. Beneath her, the spearheads crash into each other and break apart as they run out of power. She lands clear of any danger from them, some whistles from those in the peanut gallery following her.
Statuette's momentum is carrying her forward at an angle that will miss me by a hair's breadth. I swing the Javelin in a Water Circle-shaped arc, aiming for her armor's frontal protection when she gets close enough. Instead of trying to stab past the Javelin before it reaches her, she instead strikes the side of the blade with her rapier, forcing it off course just enough for it to miss her.
By the time I'm able to react to the fact that she'd done that, she's past me. I turn and shoot after her---
Statuette stabs the air with impressive speed. Her rapier responds to the motions, creating an odd little crystalline pellet that shoots at me from the tip. Thankfully her aim isn't on point, and it flies past me to strike the glass barricade, vaporizing on impact---
Wait. Vaporizing?
Our respective courses have taken us out of melee range for the moment, with Statuette skating backwards while keeping her eyes on me. I need to find out what it was she just tried to attack me with, and to do that, I need her to continue her assault. "Thank you, miss! May I have another?" I call out, smirking as I beckon her forward tauntingly.
"As you wish," she agrees without any sort of irony---then curves herself back at me. Her hooves are shifting her around in an intricate step sequence that is making it difficult for me to judge what she is going to do next, or determine which angle she's going to try to attack me from.
This is a bit of a surprise given that I was expecting her to keep at range, but it's nothing I can't adapt to. I channel energy into the Javelin and rush to meet her, wanting to see how she'll handle my Charged Slash. As I get near her, I swing the blade down---
Statuette makes a sharp turn and breaks left, leaving the freezing shockwave to envelop the space she was in before. She almost wasn't fast enough, as the tip of her tail has been iced over. "Chilly," she remarks as if commenting on the weather, zig-zagging back at me and lifting off the ground in the pony equivalent of a flying sit spin.
Her hind leg crashes into the Javelin's shaft as I try to parry her strike, and a crescent-shaped wave of frozen carbon dioxide briefly bursts from her skate's blade. It doesn't last long as it is unable to bypass the Javelin, instead shoving me backward before it breaks apart.
Unable to retain her momentum from the spin, Statuette lands on all fours. Repeating her stabbing motions, she fires off a round of pellets from her rapier. Of course, I realize as I drop into my own sit spin, the pellets skimming the top of my helmet in passing. Her weapons are enchanted to create dry ice. I have to assume that sword is well-made, or else the temperatures wouldn't be helping her wing.
I rise up, halting my movement before I can reach the end of the rink. Statuette's driving herself forward again, and from the way her wing's holding her sword, it looks like she's planning on rapier-to-Javelin combat. Ill-advised, little pony.
The Javelin rises, then descends---
And Statuette slams on the brakes, arresting her momentum in time to avoid my swing. Then, before I have time to raise my weapon again, she flings her sword into the air and takes flight. No longer hindered by gravity, she stays airborne long enough to assault me with a pair of those arcing dry ice waves (right in the face, for the love of X!) before catching her rapier on its way down. With her weapon reclaimed, she stabs forward and catches me exactly mid-torso before landing, slamming me against the glass. By some miracle, the barricade does not break.
That's the speed of an athletic pegasus at work. Once she had an opening, Statuette was fast and efficient. Any one of those strikes would have been lethal against an organic target, and while my mind was fast enough to process what had happened, I would've needed to be completely on guard to stop them outright. She's slower than Gray, but not by much.
Unfortunately for her, her attacks are almost completely useless in the face of my elemental affinity. Dry ice is cold, but temperatures at the South Pole are comparable at their worst, and I was built to survive even those. Having those arcs explode in my face was the only really annoying part, and it isn't as if excessive carbon dioxide can cause me any permanent damage.
In addition, while her sword and skates are sharp, my worst fear coming into this battle has not come to pass: they are not capable of penetrating ceratanium. The laws of physics are my only real enemy here, and they did very little harm in this circumstance.
None of this is lost on Statuette as my heartsong slowly fades into nothingness. She remains still for a time, making no further move to attack but instead examining me intently as I push away from the glass. After some deliberation she sheathes her rapier and places it on the ice before me. “I concede.”
Well, now. “Finished so soon?”
“You bested three of my fellow agents, including two that used your biggest weakness against you,” Statuette explains. “The art of swordplay was only ever a hobby for me at best. The thrill of being on the ice was the only thing I had going for me. Your victory was a foregone conclusion from the start. You win, Siren General.”
I chuckle softly. “And I was having all of that fun, too...”
“So did I, truthfully. Sadly, all good things must come to an end.” Statuette turns away, her eyes distant. I don't think she's really seeing the ponies that have started cheering for us, or the signs they're holding up with numbers on them. “Including my career. This isn't how I thought it would end, but life ultimately turns a neutral eye towards our goals. My time on the ice is over. It's time I hung up my skates.”
“Actually, I'm pretty sure the Police are going to confiscate those,” I point out.
Her head's turned away, so I can't tell if she's rolling her eyes or not. “I was speaking metaphorically. ...Though now that you've brought it up, warn the Police to take the necessary precautions in handling dry ice until they can find somepony who can remove the enchantments. Without them, my equipment is nothing special.”
“Noted. Will you be alright?”
Statuette heaves a sigh. “Eventually, perhaps. Not now... but eventually.”
I stoop down and pick my prize off the ice. “I suppose elegance is what you make of it. Are you ready?”
"Almost. Just a moment," Statuette requests, sitting down. She pries open a compartment on her belt and pulls out... a quarter of a sandwich, which she eats with great relish. On finishing she stands back up and nods. "Alright. Now I'm ready."
My Dry Ice hardware was unlocked as a result of this fight, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anypony. As for my latest weapon, I think I startled Statuette when I jumped to the side and kicked an icy wave out of my foot. My system's calling it the Ice Slasher, which is apparently good against fire...? I don't know. I'm going to have to experiment with that one.
I escorted Statuette off the ice and helped her get her skates off, dropping them into a canvas bag she had available. When I asked her what to do with the half-full jar of jam that was sitting nearby, she said that it would be a shame to let it go to waste and told me to give it somepony else. I made a mental note to pass it on to Drama Heart when I get the chance.
I contacted Coffee-and-Cream and told her that the fourth agent was subdued. By the time we returned to Madisoat's main corridor, my two prisoners and several Police officers were waiting.
Statuette doesn't resist, letting the Police cuff her and restrain her wings. She stands at attention as they read her rights, maintaining her poise even in defeat. She even allows me to search her belt for the Reddocite that the rest of her compatriots had been carrying, which I decide to store away for later. What little damage she did is nothing that a night's auto-repair can't fix.
It's right before the Police are ready to take her away that she opens her mouth. “A question for you, General. You stated in your Minutes interview that seeking a way home was your first priority. What drives you to fight for Manehattan when any of my partners stood a high chance of halting your progress permanently? Why put your life at risk?”
“Leaving the citizens to their own devices in the face of tribulation is not the mark of a good Guardian,” I answer firmly. “And I gained the trust of somepony powerful who wants to see me return home as much as I do. Leaving the citizens without helping them first would've only betrayed that trust.”
“Somepony powerful...” the agent repeats wonderingly. “Anypony that we would be familiar with?”
I gesture at the ceiling... or to be more precise, the sky beyond the ceiling, where the sun is passing by overhead. “The one that matters most. You should know who I'm talking about.”
At this, Statuette's face flickers across an entire range of expressions, from confusion to anger, to thoughtfulness... and finally ending with a resigned sort of satisfaction. "I stand against Princess Celestia," she admits.
Outwardly, I'm expressionless. Inwardly, my thoughts are along the lines of 'What?' Some of the ponies with us are taken back, either gasping in surprise (with just a hint of melodrama) or glaring at her. I can't wait to hear this explanation.
The athlete continues talking. "Ponies need a certain elegance in their lives. A certain dignity. Wherever I go to perform, I see ponies that struggle to survive while others live the high life. Those in their gorgeous dwellings are not doing enough to keep those in their comparatively ramshackle homes from bowing out. I'm a firm believer in the fact that if we're to survive as a species, we need to better understand how to support each other. To lift up those around us when we fall and provide them with the elegance they need.
"I do not feel that the Princess has been teaching this to my satisfaction. All of her majesty, and there isn't enough of it to go around... or she's hoarding it all for herself. The worst case scenario." She hesitates. "And yet... you have been in contact with Celestia? You can confirm that she seeks a way to send you home?"
"That is correct," I tell her with all the certainty I have in that fact. "And if you don't mind an opinion from somepony who knows what it's like to serve a false leader..."
Recognition strikes Statuette quickly. "You speak of this 'Copy X'?"
A nod, then a continuation. "You can easily do much worse than Celestia, believe me. To the best of your knowledge, has she ever decided that murder was the first and best solution?"
"No," Statuette answers firmly. "I have to give her credit for that, at least."
"And answer me this: do you feel that a greedy, selfish, or otherwise tyrannical ruler would go out of their way to hug a private citizen of their country when there was nothing for them to gain?"
Statuette's mouth opens a fraction. It takes a few moments more for her to open it further and say what she wants to say. "...No, but... that feels specific. Has that happened to you?"
"Yes. Today. I was partially melted and nearly eaten by one of your cohorts. Celestia felt bad about it, so she hugged me."
"If you are lying," Statuette breathes, radiating disbelief from her pores, "I promise that I will never respect you as a living being again."
"I am being honest," I say. "And you know what else?" I stoop down near the skater and whisper in her ears. "In Equestria, it's perfectly legal to hug a Princess."
There it is: the total gobsmacked look of somepony whose surprise has overcome their manners. "Wait, what?" she blurts out, startling all of those close by. "Seriously?"
"Something about this feels familiar," Maverick murmurs near-inaudibly.
I stand up straight. "This is not my 'playful' face, so yes."
Statuette falls quiet for a time. The Police near her are tapping their hooves on the floor impatiently; I place a finger over my lips and shake my head, telling them in silence to be patient a little longer. "There is much I need to think about," she admits, regaining her decorum. "But it's going to take more than just a few words for you to change what I believe. If you want to prove me wrong about Celestia, do everything in your power to return to your Neo Arcadia. If your statements are correct, then her support of you is the key to this, I believe."
"That's the plan," I agree with a nod.
Statuette smiles in affirmation. She turns to the officers escorting her, nodding. "Thank you for your patience. I am ready to go now, gentlecolts..."
Ker-thump.
All of us start at the noise, whirling towards the entrance (or half-whirling, in our captive's case). A white-coated, green-maned pony is plastered against the glass outside, resisting the efforts of the facility's staff to drag her back. "Statuette!" she's shrieking. "I love you! Sign something for me! Statu-etttteeee!"
The skater in question sighs in tired irritation and hangs her head. "...though I will not say 'no' to some help getting to the carriage."
I can hear myself speaking, but it's not registering. "I think I may have underestimated your fanbase."
"The loony fan," one officer says sardonically. "The bane of every celebrity. Leviathan, we may require an additional escort, so..."
After we finally got Statuette safely onto the carriage---and after somepony was able to pull that strange autograph-seeking pony away from the scene---we got on our way to the Police station. I noticed Maverick and Magnum were beginning to lag on account of how active they'd been that day, and while having them help me run one more small patrol crossed my mind, I decided it would be better if I took them back to jail so that they could get a good rest. They've done enough for now.
...'Back to jail so they could rest'... Is anypony out there keeping track of these things? I would not have said anything like that three years ago. This is turning out to be a lengthy list.
After dropping everypony off, I spent a bit of time patrolling in the area---during which nothing of note happened---and I met Gilbert and those griffons that he'd gathered at the bank on schedule. The Police arrived at the same time I did with Glintlock, sans that dragon scale suit of his (with his goggles replaced by sunglasses), and the exchange was made. The whole time, the captive was nervously muttering something about 'being kept in the same room as Grandpa Gruff', whoever that is. An elderly relation of his with an attitude?
I ended up handing off a sizable chunk of the money Alexandrite had given me, but I think the griffons were satisfied. More than satisfied, really, given the raised brows and the "I-told-you-so" look Gilbert was giving them. I escorted them to the train station and saw the train off, wanting to make absolutely certain that there was not going to be any mishaps. It wasn't until their transportation was long gone that I took off back to the Royal Police.
The debriefing that awaited me from Officer Coffee and Chief Grove lasted several hours. I described everything that I'd gone through today in as much detail as they wanted, from the harrowing (escaping the Diarchs facility) to the light-hearted (Celestia hugging me) and from the embarrassing (almost getting eaten by Metallium) to the entertaining (Statuette's ice show). Some of these details I would have preferred that they locked up and melted down the key, but I understand how important it is that they have it available.
In the midst of it all, I was informed that the Midnight Castle leaders and the other suspects had gone to ground. None of them made themselves known today, and there was no information as to their whereabouts. Re-examining the dossiers that the Police had obtained that morning did them no good, as there was no evidence of where they originated. There were a few mutters regarding the pony who had left the dossiers, wishing that the note they'd left had said where they had been found.
Privately, I was wondering more who had found the folders to begin with. They're obviously on our side, but it would have been nice to have confirmation.
Debris from Diarchs and Median Park have been collected, and the forensics department is planning to go over them with a fine-toothed comb. In addition, the Police have confiscated Trifecta, Glintlock, and Statuette's armor, alongside what little of their equipment is still intact. There is going to be a lot of analysis taking place in the coming days. Coffee and Grove were a bit annoyed when I told them that Metallium's gear was claimed by Celestia and her guards to be examined in Canterlot, but they decided that what was done was done.
Sometime, I'll have to ask somepony whether there's any bad blood between Manehattan and Canterlot, or if the Police here just really like proving that they don't need outside help. That attitude's going to come back and bite them in the tails someday if there isn't anything done about it.
Attempts at interrogating Glintlock and Trifecta while I was on my missions didn't pan out, unfortunately. Neither one of them shared any information, beneficial or otherwise. I strongly suspect that Statuette, despite her graciousness in turning herself in, will be much the same way.
One addendum to all of this is that after I'd left Diarchs, a small swarm of Magiflies did try to silence those who had surrendered to the local authorities. Thankfully the ponies had taken my advice on how to deal with them, so there was only minor injuries at worst. Good for the locals.
...
My internal clock is now telling me that it's nearly seven in the evening. The debriefing's just about wrapped up now, and Coffee's thanking me on the Police's behalf for helping them out. They're saying that they'll let me know if there's anything else for me to do in the next few days. They don't know yet what my paycheck's going to look like, but I tell them it can wait until the matter's fully settled.
I hadn't stopped to think about it until now, but I've just gone through the most one-on-one fights in one day that weren't sparring matches. As things stand I might not be physically tired, but mentally I think I could use a good night's rest. ...After Celestia is notified, of course.
In any event, that's that. Time to head back to the Pyre.
He was familiar with all of their tactics already, so the interrogators hadn't been able to get a single thing out of him. All of the secrets pertaining to Mocha and his plans were safe. Aside from being unable to destroy the robot, his end of things had been fulfilled. All that was left for him to do was to wait for his true boss's flunkies to spring him from his cell before the inevitable criminal case could be prosecuted.
Of course, it would mean needing to recover his armor from either forensics or the evidence lockers, but it wasn't anything he didn't know how to do already.
He had heard Glintlock being taken from his own cell earlier, and had seen Statuette---still trying to retain her dignity---being escorted to hers. There was a pair of mares in the distance whose voices he didn't recognize, sounding surprisingly nonchalant about going to jail. The hall was quiet now, aside from the occasional mumbling from the cops stationed outside the area.
...Well, that wasn't quite accurate: there were some unfamiliar hoofsteps approaching his cell. Angling himself against the bars, Trifecta witnessed the very definition of fresh vegetables walking down the hall. Young, wide-eyed and with barely restrained energy, this lilac-coated mare looked positively thrilled to be strolling around the station in the middle of one of Manehattan's biggest incidents.
Probably just a cadet being taken out of training early. It wouldn't surprise me if they decided to hasten their exercises in the wake of our attacks. Let's see how well she remembers her orientation. He cleared his throat. "Cadet?"
The mare stopped in her tracks, blinking in surprise at being addressed. "Huh? Me?"
"Yeah, you. I think they're supposed to be passing out dinner soon," Trifecta requested. "Any word on what it's supposed to be?"
"Can I answer that one? I guess I can answer that one," the cadet muttered before speaking aloud. "I was in the kitchens a few minutes ago, and I believe I saw them prepping some cheese omelettes with green peppers."
Trifecta groaned in disgust. That was one food he could never bring himself to like. "Ugh. Cheese? Seriously?"
"Yeah," answered the cadet, lowering a pair of sunglasses out from her cap and snapping something out of her shirt pocket. "Cheese."
What-the-nononononono---!
Taken off guard and with his forelegs still cuffed, Trifecta wasn't able to shield his eyes before they were enveloped by an all-consuming light.
"You have been asleep for quite some time, Springboard, and you are just now waking up. The Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria has never existed. It has simply been a fabrication brought about by a very long dream. All of your escapades, your secret missions, and the details thereof never took place in any fashion. If you are addressed as 'Trifecta', just smile and roll with it. After you have served the sentence bestowed on you by the court, you will find someplace quiet to retire and live your remaining years peacefully.
"Oh, and you like cheese."
Springboard blinked himself awake, his vision solidifying into the cement and iron of his jail cell. The hall outside was empty. That was quite the dream, he told himself. I can believe that monsters like that robot exist, but some sort of nebulous organization fighting them from the shadows? I've read better fiction on my off-days. I hope Mr. Mocha doesn't think I was lying to him when he finds out the truth.
The ex-Police officer slowly paced in a circle around the cell a few times, then settled into his bunk to wait for dinner. I wonder what they're serving tonight? I could do with a cheese omelette right about now.
...
...
Purple Prose, the brief missive had said, the triple threat has betrayed us. Code Ultimus.
The newly-minted officer---who was fresh from the academy, as Trifecta had guessed---didn't know which of her superiors had sent the message to her. She had barely finished her training in covert ops before Celestia's order to scatter the organization to the winds was passed down, so she didn't have time to meet everypony pertinent to her clandestine career. What she did know was that the message had been written in disappearing ink, and that was good enough for her.
Removing Springboard's knowledge of S.M.I.L.E. had taken only a few minutes. Any lingering traces of his past experiences would be chalked up to odd dreams at best. Knowledge of the organization would not be allowed to spread.
It crossed Prose's mind that if he had worked as a team, it was likely that he had shared information with the rest of his group. Metallium and Glintlock were out of her reach, but Statuette was on-site. A few moments to let her memory eraser recharge, and she would pay the ice dancer a visit and relieve her of any insight on S.M.I.L.E. that she had gained.
Really. What pony in their right mind doesn't like cheese?
Many miles away in Canterlot, an image of a quesadilla that positively oozed with cheese crossed Twilight Sparkle's mind. Shivering, she dismissed the thought with a vengeance and refocused on her studies. Just one more chapter before dinner...
After her perusal of Juniper Leaf's journal, she hadn't done much. Her ears had twitched when Babs Seed arrived at the apartment, but otherwise she spent much of her day asleep, waking up only to eat and take care of necessary business. Her dreams, if she had any, didn't bother her.
By the time Ocean Guard had finally returned from work, Gray was beginning to feel better. She was still sniffing, but otherwise her nose wasn't hosting a parade in her sinuses anymore. After some deliberation, Fiver decided that it was alright for her mother to take up shop in the living room. It was there that Gray felt an influx of nervousness over the meeting that she had called, shivering even with her blanket giving her warmth.
Throughout her marriage, she had always been confident in her family's ability to handle her quirks. Even now, she was sure that they wouldn't think any less of her for it. Still, it felt to her like she was about to divulge a decades-old secret that she had just now discovered about herself.
Because she had. No need to sugarcoat that fact.
Her entire family was now gathered around her: Ocean Guard next to her on the couch, the four children seated on the floor, and Echo on his favorite perch on the back of the furniture. Gray took a deep breath in what turned out to be a half-successful attempt at pulling herself together, decided it was good enough, and began to speak. "So. You all know of the difficulties I've had getting my mental condition classified..."
"It was rude of that one doctor to tell you not to come back unless you 'wanted to improve'," Ocean commented with a frown.
"Does this have anything to do with that journal that showed up this morning?" Ebony asked. "I asked Fiver what was in it, but she wasn't saying anything."
"That's normal, that's normal," Energy reminded her. Gray whickered softly at this.
"I wasn't talking about in general, Pure Energy," Ebony corrected him. "I... never mind. Go on, Mom."
"To answer your question, yes." Gray shoved the journal out from under the blanket. "Ocean, could you read this to them, please?"
One and all, the five ponies were unsure. Zig-Zag spoke the three words that the others were hesitant to say. "Invasion of privacy?"
"Explain that one to the Police," Gray muttered, sniffing. "From what I overheard this morning between Ebony and Officer Spindle, Leviathan discovered this while working with the Police down in Diarchs. I've read through it already. Yes, the journal was written by somepony else, but the information in it is about me personally. And it's dated the year I began kindergarten."
Fiver connected the dots first. Her expression was as unchanging as ever, but her little tail began lashing the air in what passed for her as anger. "...You weren't born thinking like a cat," she all but whispered, the words piercing through everypony's minds. "...And it wasn't a habit you picked up over time. Your condition is unnatural."
"H-how?" Ebony stammered, remembering to keep her voice down at the last moment. "Just... how?!"
Gray didn't answer, instead nodding to her husband. "Right," Ocean said, clearing his throat and turning to the first page. His tone made his displeasure with the revelation evident. "'The filly that we've asked for has been delivered...'"
By the time Ocean was done reading, Ebony was on the verge of distress. The same thought kept repeating itself every few seconds: What sort of creature would willingly experiment on another pony just to see if something would work? She tried to imagine would it would be like to experience being foalnapped and turned part-animal, but came up blank. Her eyes were lined with tears.
Pure Energy's hyperactive disposition was nowhere to be found, which by itself spoke volumes. The rest of the family knew that he only got like that when something was very, very wrong. He was about as attentive as the others had ever seen him get, but otherwise his face was blank.
Ocean Guard placed one of his hooves over Gray's, then leaned over and touched his forehead to hers. She didn't resist, grateful for the support and happy that he still didn't think any differently of her after learning that she really was part-cat. That alone meant the world to her.
Unknown to all of them, Echo was inwardly considering what this meant. He'd been adopted when he was a four-month-old kitten, and he'd felt an immediate attachment towards Gray on account of the pony's scent reminding him of his mother's. While he didn't understand most of what was in the journal, his caregiver's identity was making plenty of sense with that attachment in mind.
Fiver's eyes were closed. After a bit of time passed, she nodded and opened them again as if deciding on something important. Of the foals, she was always the type to think carefully before making her decisions. To her, hearing what her mother truly was didn't change anything.
The apartment door's knob rattled, and all heads turned towards it. Zig-Zag had abruptly walked away as soon as the journal's final sentence had been read, and was trying to unlock the door in order to leave. "Zeke?" Gray called, her moment with Ocean broken. "Where are you going?"
"Finding Juniper Leaf," Zig-Zag announced, dropping to the floor. "Needs a hug."
Gray jerked at this. Zeke, you're...!
Ocean Guard climbed down off the couch and trotted over to their youngest child, pulling him away from the door. "Listen. It's a little late to be heading out anywhere now. We still need to have dinner. We can go out and find her tomorrow. What do you say?"
"Never too late," Zig-Zag insisted. "Not for hugs."
Ebony wiped away her tears. "We just cleared up this family's biggest mystery, and Juniper Leaf's the one you're hung up on?"
Zig-Zag adopted that look of pure stubbornness that children take on when they want something right now. "Cats are cool. Being sad's not."
"...You don't even know where to find her," Fiver protested. "There's more than one pony in the city with that name. She could be anywhere."
Everypony, including Echo, was surprised at this announcement. The flabbergasted Ebony let her jaw drop halfway to the floor. "How... how do you even know that?"
Gray's wondering eyes met Ocean's for a moment. "Dear?"
"Remember some years back, when we went out for our anniversary but couldn't take them with us?" Ocean explained, getting over his own surprise and wondering how Zeke remembered the name of a place he'd only been to once in his life---and when he should've been too young to remember the experience clearly, at that. "You trusted me to find someplace where they could be looked after and be able to enjoy themselves. That was the name of the place I picked."
"What about the owner?" Gray asked of everypony present. "Do any of you remember what they were like?"
Ebony's hoof went to her chin as she tried to recall that day. It wasn't so early in her life that the memories didn't solidify, but it had been a while ago. "She was nice. She had plenty of games and toys we could play with, and we were allowed to run around and have fun. I seem to remember that she was almost always in the same room as us."
"She made these little flower sandwiches when we were hungry," Pure Energy continued, beginning to perk back up. "Delicious, delicious."
"... ...She spent time with me," Fiver brought up, needing a bit longer to remember her experiences there. "...I didn't want to run around with Energy or play board games, so she gave me a book to read and helped me with words I didn't understand." ...'Mellow Sleight on Cards', if memory serves, she kept to herself. The book that got me interested in card games in the first place.
"She was sad," Zig-Zag finished. "Faked her smiles. Didn't understand why. I know now."
Gray chuckled weakly. "All of that's nice to know, but I should have been more specific. Do any of you remember what she looked like?"
"She was middle-aged, easily," Ocean affirmed. "At least twenty years older than either of us. What really stood out to me was her mane. It looked like a mess of tiny little needles."
"...Her coat and mane were both green," Fiver further elaborated. "Like her namesake."
"And her cutie mark?"
"A couple of ovals with leaves in them," Energy said. "One of those iso-things."
Ebony's nose crinkled as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. "Um... isotopes? Like those stickers they put on science fiction books at the library?"
A rapid nod from the equally rapid colt. "Exactly. Iso-things."
Gray squeezed her eyes shut, thinking carefully about what this meant. After about half a minute, she opened them again and nodded decisively. Between the journal and her family's statements, her memories of those weeks away from her parents were much clearer. She knew what needed to be done. "That's her. That's Junie. I agree with Zeke, Ocean. She needs to be visited immediately."
Zig-Zag's face lit up like all the lights in the city's main square. Ocean wasn't quite so sure. "What do you want to do for dinner, though?"
"We'll just make some sandwiches," Ebony cut in, pushing herself to her hooves. "This is too important, Dad."
"Hey, now. I never said anything about you coming along," Gray chastised her, getting off the couch and leaving the blanket behind. "It's just going to be me and Zeke, understand?"
Energy pranced in place, his mother's words going in one ear and out the other. "Gonna go gonna go gonna go right now, gonna go gonna go gonna go!"
Gray shook her head firmly. "Energy, stop. You're not coming with us, and that's that."
"...We're going with you," Fiver uttered, her monotone words having a note of finality. She shuffled over to join Zig-Zag at the door, nodding back at them as if to say 'what are you waiting for?'.
"Five-of-a-Kind---!" Gray tried to protest indignantly.
"We're. Going. With you," the little filly repeated, foregoing her natural hesitance to make it clear that yes, she was completely serious. Pure Energy trotted up to her, his enthusiasm barely contained.
"The two of you get back here and stay home," Gray stated, trying to exert her parental authority while at the same time hiding just how touched she was at their desire to help. Seriously, these kittens of mine... "Neither of you have any stake in this."
"Neither does Zeke," Ebony pointed out. "But you're still letting him come along."
"If you want to go, we might as well all go together," Ocean suggested, cutting off Gray's rebuttal before it could begin. "I don't know if I'm entirely on board with this, but I feel that we should all at least give you our support."
"...And saying we don't have a stake in this isn't correct," Fiver corrected her mother. "...What Juniper Leaf did was wrong, but judging from her journal she was a positive influence in your life all the same. We want to thank her for helping make you the pony you are now: our quirky and mischievous mother who has tried her hardest to raise us despite her limitations."
Ebony joined her siblings at the door, Juniper's journal encased in her magic. "We also want to show her that we know what she did. And that we forgive her for it."
Gray's lips quivered as she listened to their statements, and her mind reeled as she was overcome by their hearts. She tried to think of something to say, tried to make one last effort at getting them all to stay home---
"Mrrrow."
---but was interrupted by the last individual she expected. The normally laidback Echo had put himself within reach of Gray, lightly cuffing her on the back of the head and getting her attention. Having gained it, he jumped to the floor and strolled up to the gathered ponies, tail in the air. "Mrrraow?" he called back to her, clearly expecting her to follow.
Energy doubled over laughing. "Even the cat, Mom! Even the cat!"
This was the last straw for Gray, but in a good way. She leaned against the couch, trying and failing to keep her giggles toned down. One by one, the rest of the ponies sans Fiver joined her in laughing, and even she had a lighter expression than normal (not much, but a little). Echo wasn't laughing either, but if anypony had been able to look at him, his regular feline smile would have seemed more pronounced.
...
In the end, they all left as a family. Six ponies and a cat were a bit much for one taxi, so they split into two groups and reconvened outside of Juniper's Treehouse Daycare. As with plenty of other businesses in the city, there was an apartment above the Daycare accessible through an entrance next to the front door. The decision was made to let Gray go in first, and she would signal the rest of the family when it was alright to enter.
Of course, Gray being Gray, an odd impulse crossed her mind before she made it all the way up the steps.
Juniper Leaf sighed to herself as she finished the last bit of housework, tossing the dust rag into a laundry hamper and resolving to have its contents cleaned after her business closed tomorrow. These bones are getting more tired every day, she thought bitterly, slowly walking to her preferred chair for a bit of rest and reading before going to bed.
As she passed a window, she stopped to look outside. She wasn't blind to what was going on in the city: she had heard the explosions yesterday, seen the smoke and fires. And this morning, when she had gazed out the window, she had witnessed such a pillar rising from the direction of Diarchs. The place where she had thrown away decades of her life as a direct result of her selfishness.
She closed her eyes, forcing back those memories like she had a hundred times before. Do not think about the life you've lost, she recalled a guard at the prison telling her the day she'd been released. Think about the life ahead of you. Think about what you can do in the time you have left, and then do it. You still have time to benefit both yourself and others by your actions. Do not waste it.
Juniper was past the point where she could have a child of her own, but she could still help other families with theirs. She sold her old home, using her earnings to open the Daycare and what funds she had left from her prior career to rent her current residence. She earned her living one day at a time by helping foals have fun, along with teaching them the basics of math and reading where it was needed. While there were a few tough spots financially, she was still hanging in there.
Privately, she wondered whatever became of Gray after that fateful day. She had contemplated trying to track her down after being released, but decided that those old wounds were better left alone. Very rarely she had heard rumors of a "Gray Ghost" who had once worked for the Royal Police, but she didn't make the connection between the two. There were doubtless multiple ponies named "Gray" living in the city, anyway... as diverse as pony names were, and with Manehattan's population as high as it was, you still had to double up eventually.
At the very least, I hope that whatever life she led or continues to lead, it was a happy one.
Juniper picked up her book off the end table and settled into her chair. The Debate of Science and Magic, Fourth Revision, it said on the cover. Despite her current life, she continued to keep one hoof in that particular aspect of her past, keeping herself up to date on both scientific and magical developments. The arrival of the free-thinking robot these past few weeks had proven to her that she was right to do so, and she continued to follow the news and editorials about it with great interest.
She flipped to the page that she had left off at and started to read...
A ruckus from the stairwell leading up to her apartment almost made her drop the book. There were several loud noises that reminded Juniper of angry mice, alongside the scrambling of hooves up and down the stairs. Cautiously she set the book aside and walked to the door, taking a decorative candle holder in her magic in case of the worst.
She paused when the noises stopped. A moment later, there was an odd sound at the door like someone was trying to scratch their way through. Carefully, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack to greet whoever was trying to get in. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I thnk u hv a rdnt problm," the pony on the other side said. Oddly, it sounded as if their mouth was full.
This seemed strange enough to Juniper that she opened the door fully... and was greeted with the strangest thing she'd seen in her life, bar none. Standing at the door was a gray coated, black-maned pegasus... with a live rat in her mouth. The sight of it was so bizarre that her candle holder slipped free from her magic and fell to the floor.
The rat twisted in the pony's mouth and slapped her muzzle, making her drop it. It took off down the stairs, stopping only to glare at the visitor before disappearing from sight. "Sorry," the strange pony stated sheepishly, rubbing her nose. "I said 'I think you have a rodent problem'."
It took a few seconds for Juniper to recover her wits. "Oh. Um... thank you for notifying me." Mentally she went over the possible costs of a good pest control service. "May I have your name?"
The other pony didn't say anything, instead turning so that her side was visible. Now that Juniper was not being distracted by the sight of a rat in the pony's mouth, she took note of her Cutie Mark. It almost looks like a pair of cat's eyes---
Her heart skipped a beat. Cat's eyes. Pegasus wings. Monochromatic coat and mane. Slightly curled manestyle. And the rat in her mouth, entirely reminiscent of a---! "Gray...?" Juniper whispered, not daring to hope---
A content smile that was oh-so-familiar on account of the fangs that poked past her lip. "Hi, Junie," Gray greeted her. "Nice to see you again."
Two forms in her mind's eye: a sleeping filly in a box, and the adult mare in front of her now---
A disbelieving laugh pulled itself out of Juniper's lungs at the nickname. It's her! After all these years, it's really her! "Gray!" she blurted out, rushing forward and embracing her former charge. "What are you doing standing out there? My, look at you now! Please, come in! Come in!"
As Gray gave the basics regarding what she'd been up to all these years---her time with the Police, her retirement and marriage, and the joys and trials of parenthood---Juniper found that she felt a certain degree of pride. Despite her addled mind, Gray had indeed been able to live a normal and happy life. This was the best she had hoped for, as it had put some---but not all---of her fears to rest.
Juniper was pleasantly surprised to hear that Gray had an up close and personal encounter with Leviathan, and she pressed the pegasus for details. While Gray talked about her meeting in the alley, she internally noted that the "Gray Ghost" mentioned in the Minutes interview and the pony before her were one and the same. Oh, hindsight, you silly thing. I should've put it together sooner.
"...And after I thanked her for being considerate of Eebon's feelings, that was pretty much it," Gray said, finishing her story. "I'm on friendly terms with her nowadays. And it actually leads me to why I'm here today."
Juniper set aside the teacup she'd been sipping from, curious as to what the robot had to do with her. "Indeed?"
A nod, following which Gray's disposition subtly changed. "I don't have the full story yet, but Leviathan was in Diarchs today on business for the Police. She was able to find a journal in where I can only assume was the old Zoo Institute." As an aside, she muttered: "It's the only 'Institute' I know of down there, so it had better be the same one..."
...A spike of terror pierced Juniper's heart. She tried to hide it, but her constant trembling gave it away. Oh, dear Celestia... "And... what was in that journal?"
"Everything," Gray emphasized. "Your past as a scientist. Your role in keeping me hidden from the authorities. And more importantly, the fact that thanks to you and that Zoolinef drug, I've been behaving like a common housecat for almost all of my life."
She knows... She knows! Juniper staggered forward out of her chair, almost falling to the ground before a hoof reached out to steady her. Words began pouring out unbidden. "Gray... Gray, I've been waiting to say this for the longest time... I'm sorry that this happened to you. I'm sorry. I know, I know that you're probably angry at me for what I did, but---"
That same hoof placed itself over her mouth, quieting her. "What's done is done. I forgive you."
...
...! "You're... forgiving me?" Juniper uttered, stunned. She couldn't have heard right; her hearing was getting progressively worse as she got older, so maybe it was just a figment of her imagination---
Gray smiled and lowered her hoof. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Junie, I have literally no reason to be upset at you. I forgave you for it less than an hour ago." Another slow blink.
"But... why? Why?" Juniper exclaimed. "You know what I had a hoof in doing to you! Are you serious? Are you completely serious?"
"I've had time to think about it," Gray said, laying down on the floor and rolling onto her back. "When you get right down to it, forgiveness is a funny thing. Does the other pony genuinely want to change? Does he or she feel any sort of remorse for morally wrong actions? Do they want to choose the better way available to them? Will they stop doing whatever it was that gave them the short end of the stick? And will they put everything they have towards improving themselves when they regress or otherwise make mistakes?"
Juniper paid close attention to every word Gray said, wanting to hope but not daring to. Her former charge's awkward position didn't detract from her speech.
"If the answer to any of those questions was 'no', then I'd still have reason for concern," Gray continued. "But I've always chosen to rely on my gut instinct for these things. Journals as an unwritten rule are private, and if they weren't, you wouldn't have written anything sensitive. And considering how long it took for somepony to find the journal, you must have had it well hidden...”
Juniper wracked her memory for the location, finding it within fifteen seconds. “It was beneath the mattress of your old box bed. I had my door secured before I was arrested.”
“That feels like enough proof to me that your regrets were genuine... I like this rug, by the way. It's very nice. And judging by your last entry,” Gray remarked, “I can only assume you were sentenced later?”
“Twenty-seven years,” Juniper said, wondering about the direction this conversation was taking. “Minus two for good behavior.”
“And when you got out, how long did it take you to get that business down there started? What was your rationale for it?”
Juniper's eyes settled on the ground, and her words became remorseful as she spoke from her heart. Sentences that she had never uttered to anypony in the years since her release took form. “Gray, the more I thought about it over the years, the more I realized that I had enjoyed teaching you and being around you during those few weeks. Becoming gainfully employed, praised for my accomplishments, possibly even becoming rich... at some point, they just stopped mattering to me.”
She paused to clear her throat. “Pardon me... the day they let me leave, one of the guards told me to consider what I should do with the rest of my life. All it took was remembering what was done to you for me to make that decision. I had the Daycare open within the span of a moon. ...Though it did take a trial period before ponies decided that my business was legitimate. I've been running it ever since.”
“From amoral scientist to a sweet old babysitter, spurred by the memory of a child...” Gray smiled. “And that right there is ultimately why I'm forgiving you. I spoke with some foals earlier whom you had once looked after. One of them said that you seemed constantly sad for reasons he didn't understand.” She idly swatted a tiny dust particle that was hanging in the air, lit through the window by the lingering sunlight. “I was already wanting to forgive you when I first read the journal. Hearing the foals confirm your identity and state of mind? That sealed it.”
She's... Juniper struggled to understand what she was hearing. Is she seriously willing to forgive me this easily? Separating her from her parents, tampering with her biology, giving her what's basically a mental disorder, changing her life forever... Is there a catch? There has to be a catch. This feels too good to be true!
But Gray wasn't done. "And in the long run..." She whistled, and a group of ponies walked in through the door: a nice-looking stallion followed closely by four children, with a black Mane Coon not far away. The unicorn of the bunch was carrying a book that Juniper dimly recognized as her old journal, and all of them had faces of affability instead of condemnation. "I ended up with five of the greatest ponies in the world because of what you did. How could I possibly be angry about that?"
Juniper eyed the ponies in surprise. Vague memories of four foals, just like these but smaller and younger, began trickling back. It was hard to mistake the unicorn's color scheme, or her brother's hyperactivity even when standing still. "They're..."
"My family. My clowder, even." Gray rolled onto her hooves and stood up, beaming proudly. "They understand my habits better than anypony. I had to share the contents of the journal with them, so they already know why I act the way I do. I went into it expecting a negative reaction towards me of some kind, but they were hyper-focused on making you feel better instead."
"G-Gray..." Juniper stammered, looking each pony (plus one cat) in the eyes. A fine mist slowly gathered on her eyes. "All of you... Why? Why? I don't deserve any of this! Why are you acting like I need to be... need to be..."
"...Because it isn't an act," the card-Marked child denied.
"I'll admit to having trouble comprehending some of this," the husband admitted. "But I trust my wife. If she wants to let you off the hook, that's good enough for me."
"Mrrrr," the housecat agreed, strangely.
"Do you think she'd make more of those flower sandwiches if we asked nicely?" the elder of the two colts asked the younger, who shrugged in response.
"We came here to tell you we forgive you," said the unicorn, setting aside the journal. "But it... kind of feels like you're past due for forgiving yourself."
...
The dam finally burst. The older pony whimpered, whined, then full on wailed as the tears of more than thirty years flowed free. Zig-Zag was the first to charge in and give her the hug he felt she needed, with Gray following suit. The rest of those present gave them some space, but voluntarily remained to serve as eyewitnesses to this outpouring of emotion.
Dearest me, it's been an entire age since I last wrote on these pages. I don't even know where to begin. Is this seriously my writing?
Gray visited me here at home. For emphasis: Gray. Visited. Me. She goes by Gray Ghost nowadays, and... words can't express just how grateful I am towards her.
I can barely even see what I'm saying here. I'll write some more later when I'm not delirious with joy. Meanwhile, I'll be able to sleep easier tonight.
Juniper Leaf Owner of the Treehouse Daycare
Thank you.
The ex-scientist's self-inflicted guilt and pain had finally fallen silent, never to trouble her again.
The room was dark, with the overhead lights extinguished. The curtains had been closed, blocking off nearly all outside light. Only what little light seeped in from the hallway allowed Ignition to see what lay before him.
In the bed, an ancient stallion's breath rasped and his heart struggled to keep him living. He had refused any and all medical assistance as his condition worsened, having no desire to delay what eventually claims all ponies. No strangers were present; only Ignition, his loyal servant, remained by his side. His grandchildren, one of whom seemed to be dealing with some sort of headache, had already stopped in to say their good-byes and were long gone hours ago.
In every sense of the term, it was Cocoa Mocha's darkest hour... and it was just how he liked it.
Ignition had kept him updated throughout the day of his agents' progress, or lack thereof. Trifecta, Glintlock, Metallium, Statuette: per their spotters, each one had been either captured by the robot or otherwise had been driven off. Metallium in particular had been sighted hurrying back in the direction of the Dragon Lands without her gear, trying to subdue what appeared to be a severe rash.
Cocoa didn't care. Soon, all would be made well. His agents would be retrieved, and everything would be on track towards their end goal in short order. As he vaguely remembered saying to Statuette earlier, the time would come when a new majesty would reign.
Feebly he pushed at his blankets. Ignition was quick to assist him, moving them down nearer to his forelegs. He shivered, but did not try to warm himself back up.
Hooked around his neck on a chain, just as it had been every day for much of his life, was a circular locket with a painstakingly-created image of the moon embossed on the front. Carefully preserved and well cared for, it had been passed down Cocoa's family line for many centuries. Nopony knew the true history behind its creation, and none had ever discovered what was in the locket on account of it being sealed shut. Some---including Cocoa's own grandparents, the romantics they were---had speculated that it contained a miniature portrait of its creator's lover.
Whatever it was, many of those who saw it in the modern day believed that it was merely a sign of its owner's wealth. He was wearing fancy jewelry, so of course he had to be rich. Ostentatious? Yes, but it was seen as being in character for him.
None knew that the locket was one of the cornerstones in a plot that had been in motion before their ancestors' ancestors were ever born.
"Don't feel that you have to explain in your condition," Ignition brought up as he stepped back, "but I'm still not certain that I understand what this is supposed to do."
"All in... due time," Cocoa rasped, somehow managing to smile. "For now..." He gathered all of his remaining energy, putting it towards one last discernible action. Clearly and audibly without interruption, he uttered words in the same lost language that Agent #6 had once described as a spaghetti farm explosion. "Xk xdi jitx zioharzejx, erdinmp irincplerc xdep m wq."
To all outward appearances, nothing was happening. The locket wasn't showing any of the tells that would've indicated magic usage of any kind... no glowing, no ambient waves, nothing. Cocoa seemed to see otherwise: his smile actually widened a minute amount. "Brilliant..."
Well. If it's good enough for him, Ignition decided, it is good enough for me. "Is that everything, sir?"
"...Yes," Cocoa hissed, relaxing. His eyes slid closed, his old energy gone. "Watch... the runts... for me..."
Ignition nodded in recognition. "As you wish, Mr. Mocha. Sleep well. It's been an honor."
Cocoa said nothing further, his lungs struggling as he continued to fade. One by one, all biological signs of life ceased their operations. He shuddered once, then fell still entirely.
Two days short of everypony's best expectations, one of Manehattan's richest ponies--and by far its most ambitious--was no longer among the living. The haunting smile still remained.
Ignition brought himself low out of respect for his master, closing his own eyes only momentarily; he knew that the old magnate would not have wanted his servant to mourn him for long and forced his emotions into alignment accordingly. Standing up and getting a move on, he carefully removed the locket from Cocoa's neck---noting that it seemed significantly warmer than it had been earlier---and placed it within its case. With that taken care of, he turned and opened the door to summon those who would remove the deceased from the building, preparing himself for the grief that was soon to follow.
The mood in the Mocha twins' suite was decidedly somber compared to elsewhere in the city.
Caramel and Hazelnut had gotten to the doctor's office like they'd planned. While they were there, the doctor listened to the twins' explanations of Hazel's severe headache. Additional questions were asked, and answers were gleaned from the details provided.
The doctor was frowning by the time everything was said and done---not a good sign. He instructed Hazel to continue taking headache medicine at the appropriate intervals. In the meantime, he would get in immediate contact with a specialist and see about setting up an appointment with him ASAP. He told the twins to expect a telegram from him in the near future.
Caramel had wondered what they needed a specialist for. The doctor went on to explain about a new development in the medical field, barely a few months old. A team of studious unicorns had discovered how to use magic in order to scan a pony's organs left, right and center, getting a clear mental picture of any and all physical abnormalities. When Hazelnut said that they still didn't get it, the doctor spelled it out for them: this form of magic was going to be utilized to check for brain tumors.
While the doctor was hopeful that the specialist could produce results, saying that a few ponies' lives had already been saved since the discovery was announced, the twins were worried. Medical studies hadn't been a part of their tutoring beyond what they needed to know as martial artists, but they knew enough to realize the implications.
...
With the mood brought down, the twins were utterly dejected when they returned to the tower. They went to see their grandfather one last time, with Hazel making no effort to hide how she was feeling during the whole thing. The sight of him, once so full of vitality but now withering away and being fully accepting of that fact, was more than they could take. By the time they got back to their suite, Hazelnut was openly sobbing and Caramel wasn't far behind.
Even after they got their wits together, they weren't able to do much for the rest of the day. They milled about listlessly, picking at their meals or staring out the windows at nothing. There were times when Hazelnut looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. They barely even acknowledged their hired servant when he turned up to take care of the daily chores.
Finally, as the afternoon began shifting into the evening, the more abrasive of the twins gathered her things and went to the bathroom to get herself cleaned up. Her rationale was that since she didn't feel like doing much of anything in her condition, she might as well start winding down in preparation for bed. Caramel was taken back by the bitterness in her sister's tone, but took it as a side effect of her possible condition and didn't question her.
...
A short time later after getting out of the bath, Hazelnut all but slammed her toothbrush into its holder. "Stupid headache," she muttered. "'When it rains, it pours'. Whoever said that didn't account for full-on floods."
Remembering her grandfather's early lessons, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Another inhale and an extended exhale. Some of the negativity she had been experiencing all day dispersed. "I will fight this," she told herself softly, determined eyes meeting her reflection's in the mirror. "If it turns out to be cancerous, I will meet it head on. I will not let these chains keep me restricted. The doctors will nip this in the bud, and I will resume living a normal life. No matter what happens, I will be free!"
In most circumstances, this would be seen as a sign that Hazelnut was a true fighter, somepony who didn't just roll over and die for their illness's benefit. Unfortunately, reality historically has a tendency to throw spitballs towards the plate when others least expect it.
At the precise moment that their grandfather breathed his last three floors above, the air in Hazelnut's vicinity shifted violently. Sharply inhaling, she looked around to try to discover what in the world was happening. Why... why is everything shaking so suddenly?
Overcome by a bout of dizziness, she settled onto the floor to keep from falling over. The air shifted again, this time centering on her back legs. Her nervousness increasing, she looked back at them and shoved her towel aside in another attempt to find what was wrong. Hazelnut's instincts were telling her that she was being attacked somehow, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what---
She gasped, eyes widening and her pupils shrinking. Bit by bit, her Cutie Mark---a split hazelnut next to a cup of coffee---was disintegrating. At a complete loss for words, she fearfully watched as her life's destiny vanished, only to be replaced by...
Before this new Mark could fully manifest, a spike consisting entirely of words and images pierced Hazelnut's brain. Times, places, and ponies that she didn't recognize raced through her consciousness, slowly at first but with ever-increasing speed. She had never experienced any of these events for herself, but they all seemed remarkably real.
Whimpering, she stretched out on the floor and covered her head with both forelegs, trying and failing to make it all vanish. The shock of losing her Mark, the grief from losing her grandfather, and the dejection from discovering a possible health problem were all forgotten as a much more dangerous struggle rose up. "No," she whispered, twitching as tears once more gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Please..."
Hours. Days. Moons. Years. Decades. Centuries. A burden was being placed on her, and it was rapidly becoming more than she could bear.
...
...
"I'm a farmer and nothing more."
"It was my honor to serve you, my lady."
"What... what was that locket? How is it...?"
"Golly, it sounds like they're in serious trouble!"
"St... stop..."
"These are the best potatoes I've ever seen in my life."
"What do you think you'll name him?" "How about... Cloud Blitz?"
"Princess, this is a disaster! I lost my entire team just trying to destroy that monster!"
"Stop..."
"Equestria isn't ready for this kind of energy. Now then, how can I destroy it without setting it off?"
"A melding of magic and life force? I can use this..." "Yes, if it doesn't end up killing you first." "You worry too much."
"Stop it... please..."
"What did you do to her? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" "Turquoise, calm yourself!" "She did nothing wrong! BRING HER BACK!"
"These three gemstones will be the ultimate trump card, but they require time to use at their full potential. Thankfully, I have nothing BUT time..."
"I am just a wanderer seeking to perfect my art." "If you're 'just' a wanderer, I'm a horseradish. I've never seen anypony fight as you do." "Oh, just a matter of practice."
"Stop it... stop...!"
"Cream Cheese, you little sweetheart!" "Ever the daredevil, aren't you? "Let's start a family together." "End this now, before it's too late!" "Silly, this will help us immensely!" "Terrific! You've helped us again, Moon Pearl!" "I can't stop. Not when I'm this close!" "And the moral of the story is..."
"Morally speaking, you're a savage." "Under the desk, I think..." "Stooping this low for a lady? You've changed." "Thousands of times more than you can imagine."
"Dear, why are you up so late?" "I've found something important, I just know it." "Energy and matter can't be created or destroyed..."
A broken, heavily damaged metal monster that continued to seek destruction even as a magical beam struck it, reducing it to a lifeless pile of dust---
"I AM THE MESSIAH! HA HA HA!"
...
...
"Stop ittt!"
From her chair, Caramel jerked her head towards the bathroom door at Hazelnut's wail. Either it's her headache, or Grandpa's passing is getting to her again. Might have already happened, for all I know. "Hazel?" she called as she trotted to the door. "Hazel, are you okay?"
"Stay out!"
Caramel recoiled at the force of the scream. That's not normal! I know she values her privacy when she's cleaning up, but that sounds like she's in pain! "Hazel, unlock the door!"
"Get... out... of here...!" Hazelnut screamed. A loud thump, and the door shook as if struck, causing Caramel to step back. "Head... hurts...!" Something rattled in the bathroom---probably the hamper, if she had to guess.
Caramel rejected the forceful request entirely. No matter what, she was not going to leave her sister until she was sure she could manage things on her own. Calling upon her life force like Cocoa had trained them to do, she concentrated it into one of her hooves and struck the door handle with it.
In the recent past, Caramel had stated that the best she could accomplish with her family's school of combat was to punch clean holes in iron. Made of brass, the handle stood no chance; it was crushed like paper on contact with her strike, and the mechanism holding the latch in place followed suit. She barreled into the bathroom, the door offering no resistance. "Hazel!"
The laundry hamper was on its side near the door, the suit Hazelnut had worn that day fallen halfway out of it. She was curled up on the floor, both hooves on her head and tears streaming down her face. The towel she'd been using to dry off was still wrapped around her. "Stay out!" she cried, trying to kick the hamper again despite it being out of her reach. Her voice was wavering as she struggled to bring herself under control. "Leave me alone!"
Caramel might have been helpless to do much, but her late parents would not have forgiven her if she abandoned her sister. "You know me better than that. I don't understand what you're going through, but I am not leaving you," she declared in a low tone, sitting down and pulling Hazelnut close. "You can pull through this, Hazel. You're stronger than this!"
The face Hazelnut gave her was unnaturally soulful and full of distress, eyes mottled with tears. This concerned Caramel: her twin never showed any weakness to anypony, regardless of her condition. Even when she had begun grieving over their grandfather, it had been done with nopony else the wiser. "What is wrong with me? What is my life right now?"
Not knowing how to answer those questions, while at the same time not wanting to leave and waste time trying to track down where their servant was at present, Caramel continued to stay near to her sister and keep her reassured by her presence. "I am here, sister. Stay strong. Don't worry about a thing," she murmured, drawing on what comparatively few memories of her parents she had for guidance. "I am here."
...
Not seeing her inner turmoil, Caramel had no way of knowing that Hazelnut's questions were brought on by the violent influx of memories that she had just received. Her personal experiences were being shunted to the side, making way for something that had no right being there. She was losing control not just of the situation, but of her entire life as her grip on what freedom she possessed slackened.
She blacked out, overwhelmed.
When she came to, she felt like she was drifting about in a thick, dark fog. Faint images of unfamiliar ponies faded in and out of reality. For a split second she thought she saw the Princess herself in the fog, but the moment passed. She tested her movement, but found to her concern that she was almost completely immobile. Where... where am I? And... I'm not complaining, but why is my headache all of a sudden gone?
"C-Carrie..."
Did I... did I just speak? Hazelnut tried to look down at her muzzle, opening her mouth a few millimeters before closing it again. What was...?
"Carrie, I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made that disturbance... Wow, where was my mind at?"
...! WHAT IN TARTARUS?! Hazelnut's mental voice howled. That's not me speaking at all!
Her sister's voice echoed back to her as if from a great distance. "Hazel, what happened? Why were you screaming?"
Her vision cleared up, the fog parting just enough for her to see Caramel regarding her worriedly. Awe filled her as she asked herself how she had gotten so big, seeming to be twenty times her size. She tried to speak, to let her know what just happened---
"I... I guess the impact of everything that's happened to me the past day or two got the better of me," she said instead, tone rife with melancholy. "Couple that with this blasted headache, and whammo."
Hazelnut's breath hissed through her teeth. No! That's not what I wanted to tell her! Something strange is happening here! What is wrong with me?! What... is... wrong?!Whoever you are, stop speaking to her! Let me talk to her! LET ME TALK!
All to no avail, as her fury was swallowed up by the fog. Gritting her teeth, she watched and listened as whatever entity that was in control continued to converse with her sister in her stead.
...
"I don't know," Caramel admitted, not sure what she thought of Hazelnut's claim. "That sounded far too excruciating to be from simple stress. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"I'm... feeling a little bit better than I was an hour ago, actually," Hazelnut admitted, wiping away her tears on her hoof. "I mean, sure---I still got that stupid headache, but it looks like it's down to a campfire instead of an inferno. Between the doctor's visit, Grandpa dying and those explosions yesterday, I guess I just needed to release all of that stress somehow?" She tilted her head questioningly by a few degrees. "I don't know how else to explain it, sis."
Caramel bit the inside of her lip as she waged a private debate with herself. Hazel's mood swing was still jarring, but if she legitimately was feeling better, then she supposed she could chance it. "Something about this still doesn't feel right to me, but alright. I'll trust you on this, Hazel."
Hazelnut's smile was the first one she'd seen from her since that morning. "I appreciate it, Carrie. Thank you. If it's not too much of a bother, could you grab one of my suits from my closet? The purple one?"
"You're getting dressed again? I thought you were planning on going to bed early."
Hazelnut stretched a bit as she replied. "That was the original idea, but I'm thinking what I really need is some air. I'm gonna walk around the tower for a bit, say hi to anyone still here. I'll check in with Ignition, too. See if... well, you know."
Caramel closed her eyes briefly, nodding. "Well, alright. But if I hear about this happening again, we're finding you another doctor, understood?"
"You worry too much sometimes," Hazelnut said bluntly. Some relief colored her voice. "But you wouldn't be Caramel Mocha if you didn't. I know I don't say this often enough, but... thanks. For worrying."
Caramel gave her a quick nuzzle before turning to leave. For the moment, the pain she herself had been feeling since the doctor's appointment had eased up.
Though it didn't do the door handle any favors. Thankfully, we still have a half dozen left.
In her mind, Hazelnut ranted and argued in protest, lamenting that it just. Wasn't. Right. She protested, demanding that she stay in her suite where her sister could keep an eye on her.
Her body refused to obey her, but as it walked past a mirror in the hallway a short time later, she managed to get a good look at herself. As frightening as the thought of losing her freedom was at that moment, the entirely lunatic smirk that her face was sporting outside of Caramel's line of sight scared her even more.
"It feels so good," her voice whispered, "to be this young again..."
"Agents #5 through #9, reconvene at the conference room. We have new developments. I repeat: Agents #5 through #9, it's time for another meeting."
Just us five? Calico Driftwood wondered, making sure she was armed and armored before descending the hidden staircase in her room's closet. That's not a good sign. That implies that #1 through #4 never returned from their missions.
As long as the five agents stayed on-site, kept themselves prepared for battle and didn't leave Mocha HQ's upper floors, they were allowed to do as they pleased. During the morning, Calico took advantage of an available training room to make sure she knew how to use her new weapons. Following a light lunch consisting of five hayburgers and three carrot dogs (with a pitcher of orange juice to wash it down), she'd spent the afternoon rifling through the last few editions of the Minutes in the hopes of locating any advertised sales.
Sure, she wouldn't be able to do any actual shopping until Mr. Mocha's successor coerced the authorities into dropping that stupid thievery charge, but it was the principle of the thing. Bamboozling the commercial district during yesterday's attacks didn't count.
As Calico exited into a concealed passageway, a small door directly across from her slid open. Agent #7 exited from his own suite, nodding to her; she returned the greeting and let him move ahead of her. Her few interactions with him suggested that he was somewhat socially awkward, but good-natured, difficult to anger and entirely willing to be friendly. That counted for a lot in her book: between Agent #5's craziness, Bastion's no-nonsense business-like approach and Gates's borderline sociopathy, it had felt like she was the only normal one in her group.
Never once did it cross her mind that eating a lunch of that size and still being hungry afterwards meant that she had no room to judge others on normality.
The two of them reached the conference room first. Bastion and Gates arrived a minute after they did, with Agent #5 following along after two more. They spent some time making small talk, speculating on the other agents' possible fates as they waited for Ignition to show up. Calico didn't waste time wondering where the crab that was clinging to #5's mane with its pincer had come from.
The group quieted as Ignition's door opened. The servant stepped on through; as was standard for him, he didn't waste any time on pleasantries. "First on the agenda is the most obvious," he said as soon as the door closed, his voice heavy. "As of fifteen minutes ago, Cocoa Mocha has passed away. His body is presently on its way to the morgue."
Everypony was silent. Even #5's insanity and #9's rudeness were clamped down on, respecting the solemnity of that statement. All of them had been personally brought on board because of him, and now he was gone. Everything now rested in the hooves of his chosen successor, whoever they were.
After a minute, Calico finally broke the silence. "Will our new leader be present tonight?"
"I have been assured that yes, they will be," Ignition confirmed. "I don't know when they will be attending. Until they arrive, I will be the chairpony for this meeting."
"My hair crab wants to know what happened to our four scouts," #5 requested. "Are they still having fun?"
"Your hair crab is destined to be griffon food at this rate," Gates snarked under his breath.
"Infidel," #5 warned him. "You will not la-jab atta la-crab!"
"How about you start la-making some la-sense?"
"How about for once in your life you stop talking?" Bastion growled, not in the mood to deal with Gates's attitude. "Continue please, Ignition."
The servant cleared his throat. "To answer #5's question, their missions have ended in failure. The robot confronted them one by one and bested them in battle, driving away #3 and capturing the others. In addition, only one of #1's objectives were met: all evidence of our work at the Institute in Diarchs was destroyed, but his efforts to silence our arrested magitechnicians have fallen short. If they haven't yet divulged the secrets of the drones used within these past few days, they will soon."
The air simmered, and those not in full armor flinched. It took Calico a few seconds to realize that she was the source of that heat, and she tried to calm herself down. "Sorry," she apologized when she could finally trust herself to talk. "I just realized that if they've been caught, that means the Police have confiscated the dragon armors."
"That's..." #7 swallowed, then tried again. "That's not good."
"A thousand ways to put it, yet those three words put it best," Ignition said. "But before any of you start panicking, this is hardly the severe setback you believe it to be. Detrimental, yes, but not severe."
"I wish I had your confidence," #7 told him, audibly shaken. "What should we do in this situation?"
One of the doors slid open before Ignition could answer. "What we need to do," a new voice interrupted as some light hoofsteps tread upon the tiles, "is bring our A-game."
Everypony started at the new presence. "Intruder!" Bastion barked, unholstering his spear and hurling it at the newcomer in one smooth motion---
---and just barely managing to snatch it out of the air when it flew back at him a second later. "That's what I get for trying to make an entrance," the newcomer complained. "Nice reflexes. They mean that your time as a thief hasn't dulled your combat skills. How about the rest of you? Are you going to try and attack me too?"
"Who needs reflexes when you have crabs?" #5 giggled.
"What she said," Calico was quick to agree.
"Ditto," #7 chimed in.
"The same, but with significantly less crab," Gates finished as Bastion reluctantly settled back into his seat. "Who are you?"
"Who, me?" the pony---more or less identified as a young mare by now---chuckled. "I'm going to be the late Cocoa's permanent stand-in."
Everypony perked up with renewed interest. By contrast, Ignition remained cautious. "If that is true, then he should have provided you with the appropriate code phrase. What is it?"
This didn't deter the mare. "Oh, that's an easy one. Spaghetti, abstract art, or Hearths Warming sweater? You decide." She cleared her throat and spoke:
---...Calico wasn't sure if everypony else's eyes had widened. She knew for sure hers did. "She's the one," she breathed.
"It's abstract art of spaghetti on a Hearths Warming sweater!" #5 exclaimed, giddy. "Gorgeously gorgeous!"
Bastion's assessment was blunt, but no less impressed. "Precise articulation."
"I think my ears rang just listening to that," Gates muttered, awed.
"We're in agreement, then?" #7 asked, his tone matching the rest. "This pony's the new leader?"
Ignition was the only one who wasn't ready to accept the newcomer. "One thing still needs to be cleared up before anything else. You sound very familiar, young lady. Let's hear your name."
"My name? Oh, there's so many to choose from," the mare crooned. "At varying points in my life, I've been referred to as White Rook, Purple Haze, Potato Bread, Cream Cheese, Cloud Blitz, Turquoise, Cyclone Pitch, Coffee Cup, Cocoa Mocha... you know. Just to name a few."
Stunned silence.
It didn't take eyesight to see the mare's confusion. "What?"
"You're... Cocoa Mocha," Calico slowly uttered, finishing her sentence with a disbelieving snort.
"That's what I was known as for the past eighty-plus years," the mare confirmed, moving to claim a seat that had remained empty for the past few meetings. "Though as of about twenty minutes ago, not anymore. The biggest hint is that I'm actually young again."
"What the..." Gates muttered. Everypony in the room had come to the same conclusion he did, but he was the first to react to it. The notion was difficult to believe, but... "You've been keeping yourself alive by body surfing with magic? Just how long have you been kicking?"
"It's impolite to ask for a lady's age," she warned him.
"I'm not seeing any ladies here," Gates riposted. "Just somepony who doesn't know how to give a straight answer to a basic question."
"...Zero to infuriated in a moment. My goodness, you have talent," the mare hissed. Even in total darkness, Calico could swear that she could see a pulsing vein. "I remember now why I've only spoken directly with you once. Very well. During your time as Royal Guardsponies, do either of you recall a certain hodgepodge statue in the Castle garden? I was an eyewitness to that statue's sculpting, and I had already gone through four different bodies by then. You're smart, gentlecolts. Do the math."
"Discord, Discord~," #5 all but sang. "She was alive during the time of Discord~!"
"I'm hearing capitalization there," Gates commented as he worked things out. His tone was quiet, but his anger was palpable. "So you're saying that statue was once a living being?"
"What," Bastion rumbled coldly, "has Celestia been hiding from us?"
"If you were around back then, you would not be so mad," the mare chastised him. "Equestria was at one time a circus of chaos, and Discord was its ringmaster. It took both of the Sisters working together to remove him from power and reduce him to a pigeon perch. That will forever be the one thing I will agree with Celestia on: words cannot express just how much that monster had to go. When I assume power, that statue is to be steered clear from at all times."
"Back to the point," #7 chimed in as the two thieves calmed themselves. "Not all of us are well-versed in Equestria's history. These 'Sisters' you mentioned: how long has it been since they were around?"
"About a thousand years, give or take a few moons," the mare answered non-chalantly, pretending to examine something on one of her hooves.
Stunned silence. Second verse, same as the first.
"Yes, I'm old," she snapped, fed up. "Do you have a problem with that? I'll have you know I look gorgeous for my age!"
"We can't tell," Calico reminded her, having worked far enough through her shock to speak. "#2 was the one with the enhanced night vision, and he's gone."
"Rubber shoes? Red mane? White face paint? Squeaky nose? Jagged teeth? Mysteries upon mysteries," #5 pondered. "Whatever does our new boss look like?"
The mare huffed. "Fine. If all of you are going to be like that, then there's no point in me keeping this a secret any longer. Just remember that this knowledge is not to reach the ears of any related parties, or your armor sets will have matching holes in them the exact size of my forelegs. Get the drift, or do you want to be buried in it?"
"Sheesh. Temperamental much? Yes, we get it," Gates groused. "If we were idiots, you wouldn't have made us part of your inner circle. Now let's see what you look like nowadays."
A chuckle. "As you wish. Ignition and all agents, shield your eyes."
All of them did as instructed, but instead of turning on the lights (And why would she, Calico thought, when we haven't had new ones installed in here yet?), a corona of crimson flames washed over the mare's silhouette. Wait, those aren't flames. I'm not feeling any heat. Who am I looking at? Or about to look at, I mean...
Even with the illumination provided by the unexpected light show being minimal, it took time for their eyes to adjust. Past the faux-flames, Calico became able to discern the mare's form. Brown speckled coat beneath a well-tailored suit, pegasus wings, black streaks in her mane and tail---!
Ignition was the first to acknowledge their new boss, and thankfully for all of them his reaction was the calmest. "Lady Hazelnut. You're Mr. Mocha's chosen successor? It's an honor."
Calico's jaw almost went clean through the table. "Hazelnut Mocha? Cocoa Mocha's own granddaughter? I thought she wasn't going to be a part of this!"
"You're half-right," she acknowledged, head tilted at an angle to mirror Illudere's. The flaming aura vanished with the abruptness of a candle being snuffed out, bathing the room in darkness again. "Physically, this is the body of one of Cocoa's heirs apparent. Mentally? Her faculties aren't her own anymore, and looking to stay that way!"
"Magic that can let ponies swap bodies upon death," #7 uttered. He sounded taken back, and Calico didn't think anypony could blame him. "I heard it twice, and I'm still having trouble believing it."
"Then what should we call you?" Bastion asked, remaining focused. "If we're caught and questioned, we can't just call you by your current name."
"That's an easy one. Easy easy easy," not-Hazelnut growled. "Ponies call me whatever they want, and I've humored them for many lifetimes. But privately, there's one name that I've called myself for centuries. One name that stands out among all the rest, because it was the only one that I've chosen for myself instead of being adopted from somepony else. From here on out, do not call me Cocoa and especially don't call me Hazelnut. Dears, dearies, and Gates--- ('Oh, for the love of...') ---you will acknowledge me as First Quarter. Any objections?"
"I vote that we recognize First Quarter as our official leader," Ignition said immediately.
"I second that emotion!" #5 hummed, and everypony wondered why.
"Works for me."
"I'm okay with it."
"As long as we stay on."
"I've got nothing."
"Aaaand motion carried. Magnifilovely," First Quarter purred. "Now, as I was saying before we got sidetracked by my identity, we need to make adjustments in our approach. The dragon scale mail was meant to be a stellar defense, but against an opponent as crafty as Leviathan, it's not going to be enough.
"Bastion, Gates, I trust the both of you to guard your weak points religiously in a fight, so you're welcome to continue using those sets if you prefer. Agents #5-#7, I will require you to turn over your gear for now. First thing in the morning, I will start having R&D figure out how to incorporate the chest pieces' enhancements into the suits themselves. Having three of our best fall in battle like this is just embarrassing."
#7 was the first to offer his agreement. "I was feeling overwhelmed after what we heard at the start," he admitted. "If it'll help me when it's our turn to face her, I'm willing to wait."
Everypony else expressed their agreements in their own ways. "My hair crab wants to know if our next move involves another prison break," #5 wondered after the affirmatives had a second to settle.
"Not yet. Do you know what I want to do first? I want to kill the so-called Siren General," Quarter snarled. "She is proving herself to be a complete nuisance. Anything we accomplish in the near future will mean nothing if that robot isn't completely and thoroughly destroyed." Her voice became increasingly manic. "Twist it into scrap, melt it down, and turn it into nice sets of silverware to be sold at stores. Repurpose that stick of hers as the world's biggest toothpick. I want you to pulverize that big stupid pufferfish! Do you hear me?! Death to the fugu!"
"There isn't any point to this coup if it isn't going to be done right," Ignition continued in his boss's stead. "If we return our incapacitated agents to the fold, Leviathan will just best them in battle again. Since she has fought them once before, she would be familiar with their combat styles. As such, the second encounter would be worse for them than the first."
Bastion, one of the two present who had fought Leviathan before the group had been gathered, raised his hoof for attention. It couldn't be seen, but it was the principle of the thing. "Might I offer a suggestion? We've been going about this by treating the robot as somepony to be faced in direct combat. Obviously, that has not panned out. So, we will go about things indirectly. Watch her from afar. Determine her weaknesses, and I'm not strictly referring to fire. Exploit her blind spots. Discover anything that can possibly be used against her. And then bring them all crashing down onto her head when she least expects it."
"I love the way you think," Quarter assured him, her voice normalized. "But that can wait. For now, I've got a mission for you. You and Gates are to make a trip to the Dragon Lands and seek out Metallium. Your objective is not, and I repeat is not, to return her to Manehattan. Instead, you are to determine what incited her to flee back to her homeland. I doubt it was the robot alone that made her leave. It's too risky to send messages via dragonfire candle now, since Ignition and I are going to be more active publicly for a while, so return here and give your information to him in private. I'll determine what to do with #3 at that point. Exercise stealth."
Bastion and Gates grunted and chuckled their respective acknowledgements.
"#6."
Calico perked up. "What's up, my boyfriend's boss?"
"We're not seeing each other," Ignition stated without any change in tone, getting laughs from everypony that wasn't the two of them. Even Quarter was snickering. "We had one dance at that club. That was it."
Quarter waved it off. "Amusing, but ultimately irrelevant. #6, you'll be on information gathering. I have access to newspapers from all across Equestria. You're responsible for determining overall public opinion on our not-so-favorite robot. Take note of anything that concerns her and compile it into a report for Ignition's perusal. This will be your task until #8 and #9 return."
"I was half-hoping to be sent out to shop again," Calico admitted weakly. "Not saying I won't do this, though."
"You'll get to have your fun again soon enough, I promise. #5. #7."
"Oh hai, spoon," #5 uttered half-consciously, head tilted in Quarter's general direction.
"Yes, boss?" #7 said politely.
"Make haste, retrieve Stratos, and bring her to the tower's sub-basement as soon as the meeting ends," Quarter ordered. "Use your respective abilities to delude her into thinking that she's practicing that twisted spell on a willing target. My dear sister will realize that something's off sooner or later, and I intend to fix that immediately before I return to my suite. You shouldn't need your gear to carry out this mission undetected. I will meet you down there once you return."
"Stratos... that's your pet unicorn, right?" #7 inquired. "I thought her name was---"
"Look. If I want to call her Stratos, then her name is Stratos," Quarter cut in. "In fact, I suggest that all of you start using that name while you're in the building. You can address her directly however you like, but you will not use anything else while you're at Mocha HQ. Crystal?"
#7 considered this bemusedly, then shrugged. "You're the boss, boss."
It took some effort for #5 to focus, but her followup confirmation was free of insanity. "Loud and clear."
"Finally: Ignition. At your earliest convenience, I want you to get a status report from those in R&D who are responsible for working with the Crown Jewels. When we make our move against Celestia, the working model they come up with has to be flawless. I can't emphasize that enough."
"Of course, my lady."
Calico heard the air 'whoosh'ing a little. Judging from where the sound was coming from, she guessed that her boss's tail was swishing with eagerness. "Then the meeting is over. Get a move on, all of you. Reports notwithstanding, we'll reconvene after #8 and #9 complete their mission. Good night, everypony."
...
Ignition was the first to go, giving Quarter a courtly bow on the way out. Bastion and Gates were next, and for a moment Calico swore she heard that ominous guitar again. The remaining three pulled off their respective armors, dropping their gear on their preferred seats before leaving.
Calico stopped at the door, something that wasn't lost on Quarter. "Do you need something, #6?"
"Just a quick inquiry. How soon can we get some replacement lights in here?"
Quarter's reply was... surprisingly sheepish. "I'd honestly hoped we'd get somepony hitting their legs on the table by accident, but that never happened. Don't worry, I'll have them installed by the time the thieves return."
Calico grinned and trotted down the passageway, invigorated.
...
All the while, trapped deep in her own mind, helpless to do anything and slowly drowning in half a million memories that were not her own, Hazelnut begged for somepony---anypony---to release her from the nightmare she was now witnessing through stolen eyes.
Night has fallen on Manehattan at last. It's about time.
Drama Heart had closed the Pyre earlier than usual, skipping her evening performances entirely. According to her, Gray's husband had stopped by to tell her this morning that neither his wife nor his eldest daughter would be available to help on account of sickness in the family. This combined with her usual part-timer not turning up---though she suspected he was spooked by yesterday's attacks---meant that she was busier than she would've liked, even with a somewhat reduced attendance, so after the last of the matinees she just hung a sign on the door and called it a day. The rest of her time until I'd returned was spent examining Mortar & Son's progress on the revamped stairs and running standard maintenance on her props.
We're currently up in her apartment as I regale her with what I went through today, or at least the non-classified parts of it. She was awed when I detailed my blazing escape from the Institute. She rolled around on the floor giggling when I told of how I was almost eaten by a dragon. Her heart melted at my meeting with Babs Seed. And she was on the edge of her seat when I described my fight-slash-dance with Statuette.
Back home, the average citizen was not privy to the details of any mission the squadrons took part in. All they were allowed to know were the end results of those missions. Basically, the entire point of this was to let them know that "you trust us to do our jobs, so don't bother us and let us do them". Being frank with someone for a change feels good.
...Though I did not tell her of my impulse to scratch Maverick and Magnum behind the ears, much less of what happened when I gave in. I'm not that frank. If anything, I'm afraid that she'll start asking for them herself:
A scream wakes up everypony on the street. A robot flees for her life down the road, terrified out of her wits. Behind her, a shadowy mist with a multitude of red eyes pursues her. A banshee shrieks loud and clear, vowing to never give up its pursuit:
"I... WANT... EAR SKRITCHES!"
Not a chance. It actually feels like something she'd do.
"You work quickly," Drama compliments me as she nibbles at a leftover slice of velvet cake. "It would probably take a lot of ponies working in concert to take down four high-profile targets across that much space in one day."
Worth a shrug. "I had plenty of help." Three cheers for Reddocite.
"So, have you heard anything from Canterlot on how it's coming up there?" my host inquires.
"The last letter I got before this mess started said that the Princess was summoning help from across Equestria," I tell her. "She estimated a week before everypony who was going to travel there arrived. They'll start researching and brainstorming methods for interdimensional travel then."
"Such a casual thing to say," Drama comments with a giggle. "A group of ponies just getting together and looking up how to travel across universes, like they're just checking on an eagle's wingspan or something else that's equally mundane."
"Well of course it's going to take a while," I admit. "It's probably going to take them months to put something together, if they're able to at all."
"Not to be a downer, but I'm thinking closer to a year." She finishes her cake and sets the plate aside. "Maybe longer."
"I hope not. The longer I'm away, the longer that Dr. Weil has his way with Neo Arcadia." I can't afford to be a pessimist in these circumstances, because that would mean giving up. I've never been called a quitter before, and I don't want to find out what it's like now.
"That's assuming Zero doesn't find some way to stop him before then," Drama points out. "Given how much you talk about your crush's capabilities, I'd assumed him to be some sort of legendary warrior."
"He was," I admit. "Before he besmirched his reputation by joining the Resistance, he was held in high regard by pretty much everyone for his unstoppable combat prowess and past friendship with X. When Dr. Ciel woke him up, it only took him five weeks for him to remove that copy from power. This was on top of him running an estimated ten different missions into enemy territory, warding off several enemy attacks, finding every Cyber-Elf we had stashed away, and dealing with what I've long suspected to be a serious case of amnesia. Honestly, I could go on all night about his capabilities."
"And you don't think he'll be able to stop this 'Weil' character on his own?"
Hmm...
My interview with Mr. Lede had me stating that I felt that Zero could use all the help he could get. With that said, Weil's not invincible. For all of Omega's power with the Dark Elf at his disposal, Zero was still capable of matching him. That last battle was 95% his work; if the Dark Elf hadn't shown the ability to mend Omega's damage (at least, that's what it looked like when we were on our way in), no outside help would have been required.
Of course, Weil's a mad genius. I dread the idea of him creating something worse than Omega, if such a thing is possible. The thought of him being able to destroy Zero is unthinkable, but on the off-chance that something could... "Whether he can or not, I can't risk it. In light of his long list of crimes against both races, I doubt anyone would complain too much if Dr. Weil was given a legitimate death sentence. And at the end of the day, I can't let him destroy Zero. I'm the only one who gets that privilege."
...I think I managed to shove my foot in my mouth again: Drama's eyes are glittering. "Well then, dearie. When the time comes for us to put together a care package, should we include a card for Hearts and Hooves Day?"
"I don't know what that is." And I'm afraid you're going to tell me.
"Oh, it's really quite simple. It's a day when ponies let their loved ones know how much they care about them!" Drama traces a familiar shape in the air with her hooves. "Now, there may or may not have been somepony's death involved in its origins, so I think that occasion would be perfect for you!"
She's not talking about Valentine's Day, is she? Even after centuries of war and pain, there are some traditions that just won't die like they ought to. Each year, people keep sending me carloads of synthesized chocolates while happily ignoring the fact that I can't eat them. And don't even get me started about what happened the one time I tried returning them in person. "Drama, you're reading too much into this. I want to kill him, not serenade him."
"Hear me out, Fairy, hear me out!" She's gesturing more emphatically now, punctuating what she's saying with little hoof-sized illusions. "You could send him a card that says 'meet me at this location so that I can show you how I feel about you'. Then after you skewer him, you could give him a good-bye kiss! It's a self-disposing romance! It's perfect!"
I can't adequately describe my face right now. Maybe you can imagine it. "You're a creepy little marionette master, not a matchmaker. Stop interfering in my lack of a love life. It's not going to work out the way you're describing it."
"I don't see why not. You didn't object when I called him 'your crush'."
...! Did she say that? I think she did, and I missed it completely! Drama Heart, for the love of X...!
---A flash of light brings me back to reality, and is that a camera she's hiding from me? "Couldn't resist," Drama says cheerfully. "Long after you're gone, I want a picture to remember you by."
The corners of my mouth are twitching as I slump against the wall. There's something threatening to escape my chest right now, and it's all I can do not to smile. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?" I ask, waiting for the coolant to drain from my face.
"With bells on, dearie. With bells on."
The whole thing was blatantly ridiculous, and she knew it---!
...
...
Once Leviathan started laughing, it took half a minute for her to stop. Always one to give in to her emotions, Drama didn't fare much better.
It's been a few hours since that conversation. Drama Heart's long since gone to bed, my auto-repair is about halfway done dealing with the scrapes I received from Statuette, and I've decided to relax on the roof for a bit. I saw the local pegasi working with the clouds when I was returning from the Police station, and that suggested to me that there was some rain in the forecast. If so, then I want to have a front row seat for it.
I can faintly hear somepony in a neighboring building listening to something on their record player, and it has me dwelling on recent events. The singer's correct: time does, in fact, come in waves. So far, I like to think that it hasn't washed me away yet.
But I'm assuming you've been paying attention. If you have, then you're aware of the conflict I'm facing right now. It doesn't take much deliberation to determine that I'm frightened.
Neo Arcadia's my home, and I've made that clear repeatedly. I'm afraid for what it'll become under Weil's rule. But at the same time, having been here in Manehattan for less than a month, I'm worried for the residents here as well. There are signs of fear---more specifically fear of me---but there have been plenty of others who are willing to be friendly. They don't deserve to be hurt by these strange events.
It's strange. When I 'died', there was only one individual I could call a friend, and he burned that bridge years ago. In the short time that I've been here, I've met a slew of different people who have proven themselves to me. Gray and her family. Drama Heart. Bossa Nova. Turkey Bowl. Coffee-and-Cream. Charity Kindheart, wherever she is now. Maverick and Magnum, to a lesser extent. Princess Celestia. Even Shining Armor and his girlfriend, considering I only met them all of once. I could probably add Babs Seed to that list, too.
Once Weil is dealt with... would it be possible for me to come back and see them all again? Would I be able to settle here if I needed to?
Would I be able to put a stop to this one-sided rivalry of mine before a Z-Saber rips me apart?
I sigh. Old friend, I wish more than ever that I'd listened to your complaints about Copy X's rule. You were always able to see things that I couldn't. If I had so much as acknowledged the possibility that you were right, I would've loved to hear what sort of advice you had to offer me now.
I can feel the first few drops of rain hitting me, but it doesn't have the appeal that it did a few minutes ago. I need to be someplace where I can think more deeply.
...
A moment later I'm heading straight west, roof-hopping my way towards the ocean.
Another day, another night. I wish I'd brought something to read... but then you don't see too many waterproofed books down here.
An eye cracked open, viewing the darkness above the creature with clarity.
Maybe I should do what my son did. Travel inland, see Equestria, have adventures. It beats being bored down here.
That eye momentarily rested on the silhouette that the pony civilization was situated upon. A short while ago, she thought she saw two specks flitting away from a hole in the island. She'd watched, waiting for the motion to repeat itself, but it never did. She'd concluded that it was just her imagination.
I don't get out much. It makes sense that I would start seeing things. Maybe I should investigate.
...Nah, it's not really worth the effort of moving. The seafloor's too comfortable.
Movement got her attention on the ocean surface: the familiar speckle of rain hitting the water. The local pegasi, busy little creatures they are. They're always so hard-working, it's actually admirable. It's almost enough for me to wander someplace else, just to see what areas where they don't have any sway are like.
More movement, this one more concentrated: something had jumped into the water at the island's coast. The rumble of a sigh left her. During the day, there were plenty of ponies moving about on the ocean's surface for recreation and work. She couldn't think of a good reason why somepony would jump into the ocean at night, however: that way lay thoughts that she didn't want to entertain.
She started to lift herself off the seafloor, to go through the motions of tunneling through the water to save somepony who didn't know what they were doing by throwing their life away... but paused, squinting at the speck and realizing that something was off. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen in all of her centuries of living, for one thing. For another...
Is it corkscrewing? That's what its motions remind me of... it's curving around, twisting and turning as it dives.
For a moment she recalled her younger days, when she spent her carefree time doing the same thing this individual was. It's not out to end its own life. It's enjoying itself.
"Kyahahahaha!"
An echo reached the creature, and she recognized what it was. Laughter. This is no mere land-dweller. This is someone meant for the ocean. It's in no danger, if it can laugh loudly while submerged. I envy how much fun it's having.
It smiled as it watched the playtime in progress. I'm curious now, so I'd say this creature is worth meeting. Up and at 'em, self. Let's get your old bones a'movin'.
This swim is just what I needed.
No urgent missions to deal with. Nopony else around me. No rushing to get anywhere. It's just me, the sea life, and the ocean. When you're entirely submerged in an activity you enjoy to the gills, you can't help but laugh.
...Ha! 'To the gills'. I have to remember that one. I'll take it over 'gift horse' any day.
I close my eyes and shift my movements entirely to autopilot. There's nothing around here for me to collide with, so I'm confident that I can devote my entire mind to my dilemma---
Evasive...? But there isn't anything down here! There shouldn't be!
My eyes open, and I shift them to Deep Sea mode upon doing so. Everything in the dark ocean becomes as crystal clear as the city is in the daylight, and with no real light sources nearby I'm in no danger of being blinded this go around. Now, what is it that has my systems wor-riheeheeheed---!
The source of my sudden anxiety slows to a stop. "Simmer it down, tiny thing. I'm not going to hurt you."
When I was swimming back to Manehattan from that resort town, I'd registered the presence of something that I'd classified as a legitimate sea monster. I was not wrong. This creature is massive, easily trumping in length (but not bulk) every whale I've ever seen or heard about. Its finned, serpentine body measures approximately 150 feet from nose to tail, and its dragon-like head---softer than Metallium's and lacking horns, but still very similar---is big enough to swallow me whole. The scales that coat it are a midnight blue, and...
...
...and what in blue blazes is a giant sea snake doing with that much hair? I'm serious! There's this tremendous mop of fruity red hair done up in... I don't even know what to call that shape! A home for fleas, a hive for the buzzing bees---! A beehive? Yes, that's it, but what's a creature like this even doing with hair in the first place?! I have so many questions!
Said creature huffs, planting a hand on its non-existent hip. I'm just now noticing that it's wearing a pearl necklace near its head and earrings in its fin-like ears for some inane reason. "What's wrong, hon? Have you never met a sea serpent before?"
And how does a creature of that size get a speaking voice that actually sounds normal for a human?! Her voice should really be deeper pitched! "Well, I... um..." Get it together, girl, and salvage the dignity! "...No. I'm... new around here. Putting it mildly. It's just..."
"It's the scales, isn't it?" Her tail curves into my line of sight as she frowns at it. "I really hate this shade of blue. Makes me look like I'm bringing an eternal night on the world. And I can't change it. They make hair dye up on the surface, but nothing for scales."
"It's not the scales," I assure her. "It's... I don't even know how to phrase it."
The creature sighs. "It's the hair, ain't it? If it ain't the scales, it has to be the hair."
"It's not. Or to be accurate, it's not just the hair." The word I need pops into my mind. "It's the everything. When I picture a sea serpent, I see a large monster capable of sinking ships and inspiring legends in the hearts of pony mariners. Not..." I gesture helplessly at her. "...a giant snake housewife."
"I'll have you know that my husband passed on a decade ago from natural causes," she answers me, arms folded. "And what a marvelous husband he was, too!"
"...And that's what you gleaned from that. Because of course."
The serpent brings her face up close. It takes all of my training and programming not to flinch as her black pupils---and black irises too, what even---center on me. "Now you're something I've never met. Been from one end of this ocean to the other, and in my opinion you're truly one of a kind. What are you?"
I tell her.
Once again, the expressiveness of sapient fauna amazes me. 'Puzzled sea serpent' isn't a term you hear often. "A robot? Never heard of them."
I'm wondering... "You haven't heard about what's happening up in the city?"
"I'm not a young snake, hon. I don't get out much anymore. The last time that I fully surfaced within a kilometer of pony civilization was a moon ago, and that was fifty miles inland." She grimaces. "So much energy just to move around."
I smile, idly kicking my legs back and forth to keep myself floating in place. My old confidence is returning. "Well then... do you have a name, by the way? I've got a story for you, and I'm not going to just keep calling you 'snake'."
This is getting to be a novelty. A strange one, but still nice.
I had planned this jaunt to last just long enough to help me think, but my internal clock is telling me that it's past midnight now. I've spent the entire time talking to this snake, who's introduced herself as 'Tiffany Polari' (which is the most normal name I've heard since I arrived here). The both of us are reclining against the coastal wall, talking about ourselves, the lives we've led and the things we've seen. All the while, the sea's non-sapient life goes about its business; whale calls echo back to us from time to time, and some fish are investigating me curiously.
Tiffany wasn't as fear-inspiring as I thought she was. I'm certain she could've put up a fight if she wanted to, since her hand's about as big as I am, but she's more emotional and snarky than threatening. I'm guessing that's the rationale behind my systems labeling her as Class-C instead of something bigger, since I'm certain she probably could've flattened me if she had any sort of combat experience.
I managed to find out a bit more about world affairs than I would've discovered in Manehattan alone. Aside from the existence of a race of hippogriffs turned seaponies---going to look into that later---I learned that assorted countries and kingdoms in the southern hemisphere are being slowly but steadily victimized by a conqueror who calls himself 'The Storm King'. Tiffany admits that she hasn't been down there in a while, so circumstances might have changed by now, but somehow I doubt that.
Personally, I believe---and Tiffany agrees---it's only a matter of time before this Storm King decides to move up north. Given the lack of global communications beyond dragonfire, I have to wonder if Celestia is aware of any of this. Probably not, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure. This information's going into my next letter to her.
Eventually the conversation reaches the point where my budding fondness of Equestria and fear for the well-being of my home's inhabitants becomes known. I didn't expect Tiffany to do more than listen, but as it turns out she does have something to contribute to the topic.
...
"My kind can live for centuries, so I've had a number of children in that time. Even though they're adults now, I still worry about them. My youngest---truly fabulous, but an oddball through and through---decided to swim inland twenty years ago and explore Equestria, and he regales me with the odd story whenever he thinks to visit. One of the strangest ones was when he got caught someplace called 'Flash Freeze Lake' and was rescued by a donkey."
That sounds like a pleasant tourist attraction, but she's getting off topic. I wave a hand at her, gesturing for her to continue.
"What I'm getting at, hon, is that no matter how confident you are in someone's strength or abilities, it's natural to worry about their well-being. It's alright to want to coddle and protect them. At the same time, at some point you need to become able to let them go and swim freely. From your stories, I think you've done your job adequately---not 'perfectly', given your crimes, but adequately. But maybe it's time you let someone else take charge? That Zero warrior you're going on about seems like the type to have others look up to him."
Tiffany levels a finger a few inches away from me before I can reply. "Now, I'm not saying you should just give up on going home, tiny fish. Keep on trying if that's what you want. But if the worst happens, and you don't make it? Just remember that it's not the end of the world, a'ight? Grieve for lost opportunities and associates long gone. But remember that at the end of the day, as long as there's water, you can just keep on swimming." She withdraws her finger and nods. "We all go where the tides and waves take us, little sweetheart. Where would we be if we couldn't adapt?"
She's... huh. Fairly poetic, and I'll need to think about this some more, but I believe she may be right. Interesting way of looking at it. "You know, for a 150-foot snake, you're a good conversationalist," I compliment her. "I needed to hear that."
"And for a baby manta ray, you have a lot on your mind," she returns, though she blushes as she says it... I think? Her face's hue seems to have shifted a little, but I'm not clear on how to interpret that. It could easily be a trick of the water. "Come back down here if you ever want to talk some more, hon. You know where to find me."
"I just might do that." I push myself off the outcropping I was seated on, the fish that were examining me making room. "It's been a busy day. Time to get back to base."
"Sleep tight---"
Faster than I can react, something big makes contact with me. It's not doing me any physical harm. Seems rather soft, actually---
Tiffany's face moves away from me. Despite the differences in species, I recognize the universal expression of a caring parent bidding a child good-night. "---and don't let the barracudas bite!" she finishes. With a wave, she twists her way past me back down into the ocean depths.
... ...!
Kissed. By a sea serpent. With lips as big as I am.
I think... I think I need to lie down. Yes. Back to the Pyre. Immediately. Sleep. And let us never speak of this again.
When Gray and her family returned home, she was filled with a happy energy. In-between bites of the sandwiches Eebon whipped up for dinner, she went over assorted tales of her childhood with them. There were so many details that didn't make sense from a pony's perspective, but started to become clearer now that she knew the truth.
"All these years and I still flinch when I see my reflection."
"It's rare when I see a dog that doesn't make me want to run away. Even the friendly ones."
"I can finally explain to your grandparents why I hated cucumbers growing up. ... Though I don't think they'll believe me."
"When I was a rookie with the force, I had a work lunch with a griffon. The local Griffons For Equestria chapter named me an honorary member the next day, and I couldn't figure out why."
Those stories and more filled the hours, and it was only when Zig-Zag and Fiver started to nod off that they were able to stop. That night, instead of her usual sleeping spots, Gray was finally able to bring herself to rest in the apartment's master bedroom for a change--something that didn't go unnoticed by the family.
On waking up the next morning, Gray decided that it was time that she started getting herself back into shape: if she happened to meet any of those responsible for the recent attacks, as opposed to confronting them in an official capacity, she wanted to be ready. She left a note for her husband saying that she'd went out for a light jog, grabbed her saddlebags, and set out.
Two blocks from the Hyacinth Apartments, she reached the stand where she purchased most of her newspapers. She offhandedly paid for one, checked the front page... and did a double-take on seeing the headline that decorated it.
Wow, Fairy. I knew my procuring those files would help the Police, but I wasn't expecting this. You don't waste any time, do you?
Multiple suspects have been arrested in connection with the attacks that threatened Manehattan's peace this past weekend.
The MRPD reported that their own officer Trifecta, alongside the well-known ice dancer Statuette, are both in cells at the Department awaiting trial. Both have admitted to acting as diversions while the Midnight Castle leaders were broken out. Further interrogations are pending.
A third suspect, a griffon hunter known as Glintlock, was arrested as well. Wanted in both Equestria and the Griffon Kingdom for illegal hunting, he was escorted by representatives of the latter back to his homeland to await judgement for his crimes there. Authorities have confirmed that he was responsible for putting some of the Royal Police's finest in the hospital.
(Photos: Police artists' sketches of Trifecta, Glintlock, Metallium, and Statuette. Credit: Manehattan Royal Police Department. Caption: "Official sketches of the four suspects confronted by the Siren General. Metallium's rendition is based on eyewitness reports.")
In addition, the dragon believed to be responsible for freeing Bastion and Iron Gates was confronted at Bright Lights Beach. After doing battle with Fairy Leviathan, the entity identified as Metallium was confronted by Princess Celestia. (story continued on Page A5)
Turkey Bowl would be the first to admit that he was a coward, at least with matters pertaining to the unknown. Beyond the occasional trip to another town or city to compete against their team, he'd never left Manehattan since he'd matured. For him, the world beyond pony civilization had too many unknowns. At least in the big city, he knew what to expect and how to deal with it.
This was part of his rationale for becoming one of Drama Heart's customers. Even though she wasn't as well-traveled as she liked to proclaim on-stage, her imagination and illusions made everything seem very real. When he first read the ads for her shows in the Minutes, he decided this would be a way for him to see the dangers of the outside world without actually seeing them. After the first show he attended, despite his heart seeming like it would burst, he approached Drama and thanked her for scaring him like she did.
Leviathan had claimed multiple times that everypony in the city was crazy. She had no way of knowing this, but the one with the most 'normal' personality compared to the rest of her associates wasn't any different.
It wasn't until the Reploid in question had actually landed in his city that Turkey had ever confronted something that could be remotely considered nightmarish. Looking back on it, he thought that he had handled things pretty well, even considering Drama's help luring him in. He'd almost started thinking that he could confront the unknown without help.
With that said, sometimes the scariest things weren't the monsters beyond Turkey's little world. As the recent explosions showed, sometimes that dishonor went to those that lived close to home. And after reading one of the other news stories on the front page, that fact fully sunk in.
TRAITOR! Long-time Officer Turns Against Manehattan
By: Burnt Lemons
In a shocking turn of events, Officer Trifecta a.k.a. Springboard was arrested yesterday on charges of arson, destruction of property, assault and battery, possession of illegal weaponry, and illegal usage of hair spray.
Trifecta deliberately targeted the long-abandoned Diarchs Zoological Institute in a successful attempt to draw attention to himself, thus permitting the jailbreak that allowed two of the Midnight Castle thieves to escape. According to eyewitnesses in Diarchs, he later engaged in battle with the wayward robot Leviathan in an attempt to destroy her for reasons unknown. Leviathan could not be reached for comment.
Prior to his arrest, Trifecta was a wanderer from youth on. More than fifteen years ago, he settled in Manehattan and pursued a career in law enforcement after witnessing one of the city's finest giving it her all in her line of work. "He was always dead-set on trying to solve Manehattan's problems," said one Royal Police officer who asked to be unidentified. "We are baffled as to why he would turn against the city he claimed to love." (story continued on page A2)
Following the previous night's emotional uplifting, Juniper Leaf was walking on cloud nine. After being forgiven not just by Gray but by the pegasus's family, she felt as if she'd been given a new lease on life. When she woke up in the morning, she found herself filled with the sort of energy that she hadn't possessed since she was young. Her aches and pains, a constant in her life for years, felt more manageable.
Her day went much more smoothly as a result. In a rarity for her line of work, all of the children she was tasked with looking after behaved themselves without causing too much trouble. The adults who picked them up at the end of the work day took note of everypony's improved moods, all but guaranteeing Juniper some extra work for the near future.
It was only after everypony had gone home that she found the time to look at the newspaper. She'd sat down in her favorite chair, reading the articles about the arrests and Trifecta's decision to become a turncoat. As she finished the latter, a headline on page A2 grabbed her attention immediately, and she opted to look at it before checking out the other stories on the front page.
By the time she was done reading, Juniper decided that if she'd ever felt any real attachment towards her former workplace, it had been reduced to ashes with the building. It's for the best, she decided, if I just let those memories die.
(Photos: Pictures of the Institute both old and new. Credit: Left: Diarchs Historical Society. Right: Buried Lede. Captions: Left: The Institute as it appeared in YoC 957. Right: Yesterday, following the altercation between Officer Trifecta and Fairy Leviathan.)
The Diarchs Zoological Institute was torched beyond repair yesterday morning. Further details are forthcoming.
The Institute was once used by researcher Wingbeat Drift to study the bizarre habits of animals of all kinds. Unsavory individuals took advantage of his generosity to carry out their own whims for personal gain, resulting in the facility being shuttered and abandoned in YoC 964. The ongoing presence of red tape prevented the facility from being dismantled for the next thirty-five years.
The Institute was put to the flames by the MRPD's Officer Trifecta, who was attempting to destroy the visiting Fairy Leviathan. Official sources stated that the Siren General was hired by the department to investigate the abandoned building for information on the recent Royal Police breakout. Trifecta instigated the arson using hair spray as a medium, but failed and was subsequently arrested.
The local fire department and weather team were able to contain the blaze before it could blossom out of control, but the damage has been done. According to local law, the property is to be condemned and the building slated for demolition. "It is just as well," admitted a pony who requested to stay anonymous. "Nothing good has come out of that place since Drift was in charge. It's long past time that eyesore was retired permanently."
Leviathan, occupied as she was with tracking down several other perpetrators of the breakout, could not be reached for comment.
As much as he wanted to visit his birthplace, Gilbert decided to stay in Manehattan.
The griffons he'd collected to deliver Glintlock to their homeland were technically his associates, not his friends. They hadn't believed him when he said that Levi was "surprisingly generous" until the money landed right in their talons. He didn't feel comfortable being around them. While he would never wish them any harm, he was still happy to see them depart with the estranged hunter.
On a positive note, it was kind of neat to see Levi well. Bounty hunting was difficult work from what he understood, and not an occupation for the faint of heart. Seeing her positive reception to the word 'chillax' was additionally nice; in his experience, few ponies outside of their adolescents really understood modern slang.
And fewer still would arm wrestle a minotaur for fun, win or lose. In light of Bossa's reputation, that alone marked her in his books as awesome.
The next day was business as usual at the grocery store. The owner was considering retiring, and everypony--plus one griffon--was working as hard as they could in the hopes that the store would be turned over to one of them. Gilbert didn't feel that it would be him, but he did his best all the same. A higher position meant more bits to be sent back to the Griffon Kingdom (and a few more in his pockets besides), and for him that was more than enough incentive.
"Hey, Gil!" one of his co-workers called to him. "There's this thing in the paper about a griffon getting arrested and thrown out of Equestria! You hear anything about this?"
Gilbert finished putting another customer's payment away before responding. "Yeah, dude was wanted for poaching. Rules back home are majorly strict on that!"
"Think he was trying to hunt the Repliroid," the pony commented, this time standing closer so that he didn't need to shout. Gilbert didn't bother correcting him on the pronunciation of Levi's race, long used to it from him by now. "Want me to leave the paper for you somewhere?"
"Sure. Just drop it in the break room. I'll look at it after my shift ends."
What Gilbert didn't tell him was that he already had a good idea of what the article was going to say. He was at the Park for the aftermath and he was caught up on it quickly, so he felt like it wasn't required reading.
In the end, he read it anyway. Levi was cool, and if he was going to be a proper fan of hers, then he needed to stay in the know.
WANTED HUNTER DEPORTED
By: Triplicate
(Photo: Glintlock's 'Wanted' poster, signed by Grandpa Gruff. Credit: The Griffon Kingdom. Caption: This hunter's capture has brought relief to those injured in Manehattan.)
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Following a showdown at Median Park, the hunter responsible for injuring several MRPD officers has been captured. The city's alien resident, the General Leviathan, was able to subdue Glintlock following a pitched duel that had all of the odds stacked in his favor.
According to both the Police and several anonymous onlookers, Glintlock spent three hours in lockup before four griffons volunteered to escort him back to their homeland. There, he will likely face punishment for the multiple crimes committed on their soil. These include hunting in protected areas, poaching, and multiple counts of possession and usage of illegal weaponry.
Leviathan could not be reached for comment, but the MRPD's own Officer Coffee-and-Cream spoke on her behalf. "I was listening to the entire thing. Glintlock had blanketed Median Park in traps, and came close to grievously injuring Leviathan several times. Thanks to the combined efforts of her, the park staff and the MRPD, we expect Median Park to be cleared for use very soon. Stay alert for details." (story continued on Page A3)
Another morning, another day that Bossa goes without bolstering her muscles. She should reconsider her workout regimen. Or at the very least invest in some new weights.
As was to be expected in the wake of recent events, the Big and Taur shop saw very few customers that day. It was beginning to reach the point where Bossa Nova was contemplating closing up for the day and hitting the gym. Provided of course that they were open.
Something thudded against the door. Took them long enough, she grumbled, getting up and retrieving the latest edition of the Minutes. The little runts are getting slower every day. They must not have much in the way of a work ethic.
Bossa's lips twitched upwards when she read the main headline, and she quickly glanced over the rest of the page. Now here's someone who works hard. The scrawny little machine's a definite fighter, going up against the odds and finding ways to win. Papercolts could learn a lot from her.
A story in the bottom left corner of the page caught her attention quickly. Her eyes stayed glued on it as she absorbed its contents.
Finally she slammed the paper down, smirking dangerously. It doesn't matter if it's a calf or a colossus. Bossa's going to keep an eye out for that beast, and she's going to teach it not to toy with her favorite customer.
Feeling charged from reading the article, she decided to put her new energy to good use and get some work done around the shop. She might not have liked her job, but it was as her gym teacher back home used to say: if you wanted to be successful and productive, then you had to be aggressive.
ROBOT AND PRINCESS CELESTIA DRIVE OFF DRAGON
By: Honest Crow
Holes dot the Beach and the residents are tired from filling them in, but everypony in the town of Bright Lights is in a positive mood after a successful defense of their home. The dragon who broke the Midnight Castle leaders out of prison has herself been driven out of Equestria.
The dragon, identified by the locals as "Metallium", turned up in the morning and held the town hostage. "She grabbed me and told me to keep serving her drinks if I didn't want 'to be charcoal', in her words," said one hotel employee. "Then she told everypony else that they'd better stay indoors if they didn't want to meet the same fate. She stated her desire to fight that robot and proclaimed that she would only leave Bright Lights after it was destroyed. Leviathan appeared later this morning."
According to one brave eyewitness, the fight with the so-called Guardian was initially very one-sided in Metallium's favor. It was when the dragon tried to eat her that Leviathan turned the tables, freezing the dragon from the inside out. (story continued on page A4)
"NO!"
Limefrost Spiral had decided that she was having a very, very bad week. After three minutes of reading the paper, she'd thrown herself against her pillows, crying her heart out.
"You've got be kidding me! No-o-o! Not that!"
SHOCKER! Well-known Athlete Admits Wrongdoing
By: Funny Cart
After a performance of a lifetime, Vanhoover-born ice dancer Statuette has been arrested in connection with the MRPD breakout.
Madisoat Square Garden was the venue, and Statuette Vs. Leviathan was the performance. Despite everything, she found herself outmatched by the Guardian's superior prowess. Instead of railing against her opponent, she instead stayed true to her character and graciously turned herself in.
Shortly thereafter, she stunned everypony by stating five words: "I stand against Princess Celestia." According to Madisoat's staff, the gist of her explanation was that she felt that the Princess was not doing enough to help ponies who needed her support, and she decided to take matters into her own hooves. As of yet, nopony understands why Statuette thought helping Bastion and Iron Gates would aid in this. (story continued on page A5)
The news wasn't limited to Manehattan. Those across Equestria who followed national events or otherwise kept their ears to the ground had their own reactions to recent happenings.
...
In the comfort of her newly-acquired Las Pegasus apartment, Alexandrite shivered as her old friend Paranoia came knocking. "I knew something bad was going to happen. I just knew it."
...
Charity Kindheart, still settling into her new home, sighed in relief. This was due both to Leviathan indeed being the Guardian she was meant to be, and to herself escaping the danger before it happened.
...
A produce supplier escorting his grandmother to Canterlot caught wind of some gossip applicable to the wayward warrior, and he mused to himself that it was some strange times they were living in.
...
In Canterlot, Shining Armor nodded as he discerned that his, Cadance's, and Celestia's trust in the Guardian was being vindicated.
Elsewhere in the city, Octavia Melody smiled as the anxiety and hate that surrounded some of the locals took a step down the ladder. They weren't gone yet, but it was still an effective second step.
...
Out in Ponyville, the recently-named Bon Bon feigned mild interest in those events while inwardly keeping herself from writing to Celestia for more information on this strange creature.
Fluttershy took a closer look at somepony's discarded newspaper after hearing about an editorial on Leviathan's work in Median Park, noting to herself that anypony who was kind to animals and children couldn't be that bad.
Applejack at first paid the events in Manehattan no mind, but that would change not long after when her family received an enthusiastic letter from her relatives in the city.
...
...
Within her jail cell, Magnum took one look at the page that Officer Coffee-and-Cream was showing her and pumped one of her hooves victoriously. "Called it!"
(Photo: Leviathan being embraced by Celestia, Maverick, and Magnum. Credit: Photograph donated by the village of Bright Lights. Caption: Now is or is that not the most adorable thing you've ever seen?)
In what residents of the town of Bright Lights are already calling "the experience of a lifetime", Princess Celestia was witnessed embracing the Siren General Leviathan out of thanks for protecting her ponies from the dragon Metallium. Local authorities are speculating on what this could possibly mean for relations between Equestria and Neo Arcadia going forward...
"F-Fairy?"
Leviathan, seated on the floor near the Pyre's concession stand, did not react to Ebony nudging her from four meters away with her flyswatter. She tried again. "F-Fairy, are y-you okay?"
"Ignore me, Ebony," Leviathan finally bit out, glaring daggers at the article she was reading. "I'm trying to see if I can set this newspaper on fire with my mind!"
"E-even if you c-could," Ebony pointed out, "Zig-Zag hugging y-your leg is ruining the e-effect you were going for."
Leviathan lowered the newspaper, letting her gaze linger on the family's beaming youngest. She removed her helmet and set it down... then, with a noise that Ebony swore sounded like a sob, pulled her legs closer to rest her head against her knees. "I know."
...
And Mortar and Pestle, overhearing this exchange from where they were hard at work remodeling the stairwell, found that some of their fear from Leviathan's first day in town was beginning to wither.
There were three ponies that met First Quarter and Ignition in the tower's sub-basement, which was long since emptied of any employees. The first two had little to set them apart from the crowd, being male pegasi with no real distinguishing features. Both of them were maintaining neutral expressions and sporting manestyles that were a bit a dozen. Even their Cutie Marks were fairly plain.
The third was a young unicorn, and a fairly cute one in a 'socially awkward' kind of way. Quarter had told Ignition after they first met her that she had the potential to be one of the greatest spellcasters in Equestria's history, but he wouldn't know it from looking at her now: she was rather unsteady on her hooves; her eyes were unfocused, staring at something just a bit to her right; and when she talked, he got the impression that she wasn't listening to what they were saying to her.
All according to plan.
"So let me see if I have this straight, Mr. Mocha," the unicorn said after their customary greetings. "Your co-workers told me that you were ready to have your Cutie Mark swapped with that of a willing volunteer?"
"Correct, Stratos," Quarter answered, maintaining her poise and answering with all due seriousness. She nodded off to her left. "She's right over there."
Ignition wondered silently what the unicorn was really seeing. There was nothing in the direction Quarter had indicated aside from the stone pillar housing one of her pet projects. But instead of giving them a look questioning their sanity, 'Stratos' responded as if somepony else was present. "It's no problem. I'm glad to do it for you. Some practice before I set off on my own won't hurt. Just remember that this will only last for twenty-four hours, alright? Now, brace yourselves!"
'Stratos' closed her eyes, and her horn lit up. Quarter's flank followed suit, and her Cutie Mark---its form obscured by a mass of light particles---was yanked free. The Mark flew awkwardly at first, but gained speed before impacting the pillar and vanishing inside.
There was nothing for the 'recipient' to give in exchange, as the pillar's occupant was far too young to have earned her Mark yet. Regardless, the same recognition failure that made 'Stratos' see Cocoa instead of Quarter made her see two mature ponies swapping their Marks. She cut off the spell, satisfied. "This will work."
Quarter heaved a sigh. "Much better, much better." She wasted no time cutting to the chase. "So, you're going to be leaving tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah. A big city like this doesn't feel like the right place to start endorsing equality, and I haven't felt safe here these past few days. I think I'll try to find someplace a bit more isolated and work my way up from there." 'Stratos' stretched a little, then offered a nervous smile to the group. "Thanks for giving me access to your personal library. I didn't expect an earth pony like yourself to have so much magical lore stored away."
Quarter waved off the compliment. "Part and parcel of my family being collectors for centuries. You never know what might be useful later."
"Well, it's helped me out a lot. Hope you recover quickly, Mr. Mocha," 'Stratos' offered.
"And I hope you find the equality you're looking for," Quarter answered politely. "Please write to me after you're firmly established. I know a few ponies who may be interested in your manifesto."
The unicorn's eyes lit up at this, and she nodded thankfully. She turned and trotted back the way she'd entered, completely ignoring everything else in the room in her eagerness to leave.
And for the rest of her life, Starlight Glimmer would never realize the ramifications of what she had just done.
The group waited seven minutes from the time the door shut and locked behind her before moving. One of the bland pegasi wavered in and out of visibility, then vanished entirely as somepony else took his place. "Illusion dropped, unicorn blinded~," Illudere crooned, her horn's glow receding. The crab attached to her mane repeatedly bumped into her temple as she spoke, jerking her head to and fro. "Doesn't suspect a thing and never will! Her little world twists, turns, and flies flies flies~!"
"Translation: she doesn't realize that I abused the knowledge that I 'generously' donated to her cause for personal gain," Quarter commented, pulling up one of her pant legs to double-check. As she knew would happen, Hazelnut's former Cutie Mark was where it was supposed to be. "Excellent work, Illudere. Feels much better now that I don't have two different Marks fighting each other for supremacy." She flinched. "Though that headache I've been having is going to linger for a while. Hopefully that specialist can get rid of it."
None of the three twitched as a wave of emerald fire flared across the second pegasus's body. The flame fizzled out quickly, leaving an auburn-coated, dirty blonde-maned earth pony in his place. "I'm confused," Bushwhacker admitted. "I thought ponies couldn't have more than one Mark."
"Outliers exist, young changeling," Quarter informed him. "The one Stratos transferred was the very first Cutie Mark I ever posessed, and each time I move to a new body it tries to come along with me and override the one that's already there. You can imagine how cover-blowing that would be."
"Lady Hazelnut's tomboy phase was well-timed, then," Ignition brought up. "It wouldn't take long for Lady Caramel to discover that her sister's Mark was not her own otherwise."
"That's the problem with using obscure magic that's not well-documented," Quarter grumbled. She turned and slowly walked towards the elevator, her subordinates following behind. "There's always going to be some sort of catch. Imagine my surprise the first time I transfered bodies on death. The Cutie Mark switching spell was the first one I figured out as a proper unicorn. Matter of necessity, and all that rot. Even then, it still kept finding its way back to me on my revival."
"Is what you did here supposed to be a permanent solution?" Bushwhacker wondered, turning his head to regard the pillar for a moment.
"Project Ashes is my joy." Everypony would need to be deaf to not hear the pride in Quarter's voice. "With that Mark no longer hounding me throughout my existence, I don't need to take the time to worry about it anymore. I can just let it die whenever the little munchkin does. Just leave her at an orphanage when she's old enough---one of the good ones, mind you, not the cruddy ones that don't care about foals---and that will be the end of it."
Bushwhacker frowned and made to say something, seeing something that wasn't right about her explanation, but changed his mind at the last moment. Illudere was more vocal as their elevator opened, but not about the same topic. "Ralph hopes you know about Cutie Marks adoring their real owners."
By way of a reply, Quarter snorted back some laughter and stepped inside after them. "Ponies just don't give immortality enough credit. As long as you live, you will never run out of things to learn. Trust me. I've had the appropriate countermeasures devised for my past three lifetimes." As an aside, she added in an embarrassed tone: "Just took until four years ago to implement them."
The elevator slid shut and carried them away. A few seconds passed.
Quarter nudged Illudere. "Did you seriously name your crab 'Ralph'?"
"Yeppy!"
"Why?"
"Because I was eating cookies when I---"
Illudere's mouth found itself closed mid-sentence as Quarter's tongue hung out in disgust. "Never mind. Calling TMI."
At roughly the same time as Leviathan's reaction to the newspaper...
"Aaand checkmate."
Hazelnut leaned back in her seat, satisfied at the move. Caramel, for her part, had enough sense in her to be surprised that the game had ended so quickly. One more quick look confirmed that her king had no place left to go. Checking the clock to confirm the time, she whistled. "By far the quickest victory you've ever earned."
Hazelnut's smile shifted quickly as she abruptly flinched. "Doesn't really feel fair to play speed chess. You're still coming off of last night."
"So were you," Caramel rebuked her. "When you had that breakdown, you scared me. How's your headache doing?"
"It's a little better, but not at the point where I feel like canceling the meeting with that specialist, whenever it's supposed to be," Hazelnut complained. "I want it gone, not just quiet."
Caramel collected the pieces and set about returning them to their original positions. "Here's hoping it improves before Grandpa's memorial service. Ponies are going to wonder why you missed it in light of how much you've said you idolized him."
Hazelnut snorted quietly. "The service is a week off, Carrie. If it isn't better by then, I'm really in trouble. Are you up for another round?"
Caramel pondered this for a few moments, but finally shook her head. "I think I'll get a workout in and step up my exercises. You just beat me at my specialty while in pain, Hazel. The next time you feel well enough for a fight, I'm going to return the favor."
The speckled pegasus bristled. Of the two, Hazelnut had always had a slight edge in the martial arts. She never lorded that edge over Caramel, but she always took any potential challenges seriously. After a few seconds, she managed to calm herself. "Well, in that case, I'm going to drop in on Ignition. See if he's gotten back from formalizing his guardianship over us."
I suppose I should probably talk to him sometime myself. I might not have truly wanted him for the job, but that's no reason to alienate him if he plans on doing his best. "Ask him to visit the suite sometime. I know he's always busy, but..."
"I'll see what I can do." Hazelnut climbed out of her chair and trotted away. "See you later, little sis."
"'Little'? Hazel, for the last time, you're only a few minutes older than---" The door closed, with Hazelnut's hoofsteps showing no signs of slowing down. "---I am," Caramel finished, hearing her sister leave the suite entirely a few seconds later. She huffed, leaving her chair to change into her practice uniform.
I love her, I really do, but there are times when I've wished that I was the older sibling. She knows that calling me "little sis" irks me. Though if she's just trying to distract me from recent events, that's... not so bad.
Dear sweet Luna, I love calling her that. Always being the oldest sibling is fun. Still, I won't lie and say she didn't need that.
She kept her amusement to herself as she walked. It would raise questions if one of Cocoa's heirs was smiling and laughing so soon after his death had been reported.
Aside from the hidden conference room and the suites used by her best agents, the upper floors of Mocha Corp. HQ were reserved specifically for the family's use, that of their hired servants, and any guests they were able to entertain. All the same, Quarter remained solemn for the sake of anypony who might be watching. She uttered a soft "thank you" in passing to a pony who was making sure one of the staircases was properly maintained.
Even after all of these centuries, attending my own memorial is still going to feel very awkward. I wonder if I should have an antagonistic relationship with my next child just so I would have an excuse not to go.
Quarter's lips curled in disgust. My next child... of course, that would require me to stay alive long enough to come of age and find a husband. I really hope that whatever's giving me those headaches isn't life-threatening, or else I'm going to need to utilize Project Ashes for its secondary purpose after all. I refuse to let my ambitions die just like that.
At the top of the stairs, she heard ravenous noises as if somepony was eating loudly. Reaching out with senses that were perfected across many lifetimes of practice, she was able to detect Calico Driftwood's presence on the other side of a barren wall. I'd forgotten how much she liked to eat, Quarter thought, disgusted as she listened to the kirin going to town on her breakfast. I could probably pass off the number of dirty dishes to the servants as me and Carrie stress-eating, but I wouldn't be able to keep that up forever.
The noises came to a stop, and for a moment Quarter dared to believe that was the end of it. She was proven wrong when she heard whale songs coming from where Calico was, rattling her eardrums something fierce. ...No, wait... that's snoring. Very awful snoring. If she starts attracting actual whale pods to Manehattan, I swear...
Her lips twisted in a playful smile. You know what? I'm going to endorse her desire to start dating Ignition. It'll be funny.
Leaving Calico to catch some more sleep and confident that she would do what she'd been told later, Quarter continued on her way.
...
As she expected, Ignition was waiting in her private lounge. Prior to losing any real desire to leave her room as Cocoa, she had liked to visit it to relax and unwind after a long day. Per her standards, the entire room was spic-and-span. A classical music record was playing somewhere nearby. "Give me a chocolate milk, please," Quarter told the pony manning the counter. "Then go ahead and take the rest of the morning off. Report back at two o'clock for your afternoon shift."
The server regarded her curiously, then turned to Ignition. "Sir?"
"Do what she says," Ignition confirmed. "As her guardian, I'll take responsibility. Extend the same privileges to Caramel, if she chooses to accept them."
"Certainly. Coming right up," the server agreed, hurrying to complete the task. A minute later, he was out the door and a glass of cold, sweet milk was in her hooves.
Quarter seated herself on a couch across from her most loyal and hard-working servant. "Don't know what I'd do if I ever ended up in a body that was lactose-intolerant," she commented as she sipped her drink. "Also, Moztrot. Nice choice in music."
"The younger generation doesn't know what it's missing. Plebeians, all of them," Ignition said, sporting a rarely seen smile. "When all else fails, stick with the classics."
Chuckling filled the air. "I knew there was a reason I'd hired you aside from your dedication. So, anything to report?"
"Nothing unusual as of yet," stated Ignition, the smile leaving him. "My guardianship of you and Caramel has been finalized, as expected. Memos have been sent to the board of directors notifying them of Mr. Mocha's passing, and I suspect they will have a meeting to discuss the direction of the company sometime tomorrow, if not today."
"Your dedication and your ability to get things done quickly," Quarter complimented him. "Did you remember to refill the pantry in Driftwood's room?"
Disgust, plain and simple. "I've been doing so daily. Are kirins known for their ability to put away an entire household's worth of food over the course of a single day?"
Quarter thought back to the first time she'd crossed paths with Calico years before. "What little she disclosed to me at our first meeting tells me that no, they aren't. She's an outlier in every sense of the term, Ignition. Incredibly free-spirited, a born wanderer, and a love of the modern age that her kind doesn't share. Basically your exact opposite. And given that opposites attract, you could do a lot worse than her."
Ignition started to nod, then paused in mid-motion. The two ponies---one indignant, the other unapologetic---locked stares. "If I left her at the podium, would she stop obsessing over me?"
"That would just make it worse," Quarter denied him. She sipped her drink and licked her lips clean before continuing. "One thing she does share with her kind is a strong sense of justice. If you abandoned her on her wedding day, she'd feel betrayed and do everything in her power to make you pay for it."
Ignition snorted. "She's constantly trying to get my attention because of a single dance, young lady. I have no time or desire to pursue romantic interests, and I've made that quite clear to her once already. All that accomplished was making her swoon."
Quarter shrugged. "It's to be expected. She might have an array of good points, but she's still an idiot. The entire reason I was able to get her to join us was because she refused to believe that she misread that icebox's price tag."
"I'm not going to date an idiot, much less marry one. And I will not take the time to find a mare of my own until after the coup is complete. That is all."
Elsewhere in Manehattan, Limefrost Spiral had the strangest feeling that she'd been jilted without meeting the one responsible. Again.
Quarter shook her head at his complete seriousness. Excellent servant, but absolutely clueless sometimes. I'll put this on the back burner. "A change of subject, then. It's my understanding that there's a question about Project Ashes that you never asked me last night."
"Indeed." Ignition straightened, the conversation's levity forgotten. True to form, he didn't stop to wonder how she could possibly have known that. "I am aware that you have utilized everything you have researched and developed across your life to accomplish it. It is also common knowledge among your most trusted scientists that the subject's shape was deliberately guided and molded into a specific form. However, I am curious as to whether you were simply exercising creativity in doing so, or if there is a specific reason for the child being what she is now."
Of course. Leave it to him to discover the key to all of this. She closed her eyes, uncomfortable as she cobbled her thoughts together past her cranial pain. "I haven't discussed this tie to my past with anypony of this generation, Ignition. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"I would not have brought up the subject if I wasn't willing to hear your comments, young lady. I do not waste my breath on questions that could go unanswered."
...
Quarter turned to stare out the window, wistful. Idly, she watched several pegasi at another tower hard at work washing windows. He's been nothing but trustworthy, and he's always done everything I've asked him to do. ...Oh, why in Tartarus not, then? He won't gossip about this with anypony. He's better than that. "Then let me tell you about somepony, Ignition. Somepony whose life I was forced to steal without warning, following an accident. She loved music and acting, and was adept with a flute. If life had been kind, she would have lived her life as a bard for quite some time. A better world would have seen her traveling the lands and seeking out those in need of cheering up.
"However, when I stole her body early, those dreams were left to gather dust. I was preparing for the long-term, planting the seeds for what would shortly become the Mocha Beverage Corp., and researching everything magical and mundane for the slightest edge against Celestia. She wouldn't be able to follow her dreams anymore, and I was not willing to live her life in that manner. She would live and die after forty years of life with little more than the odd festival to her name, and I would subsequently transfer to the oldest of her children." She snarled at nothing. "Blasted pneumonia...
"I remember all of the bodies I've taken to further my cause, Ignition. I have all of their memories and lives buried beneath mine. I still remember all of their names, but her identity comes the easiest to me. Her personality, her likes and dislikes... the underlying cleverness in her actions... I recall them all. She was me, if I had been driven by entertainment instead of vengeance."
...
For half a day, it had struggled. It didn't belong there.
Runes around the cylinder continuously repulsed it, holding it in place.
Gradually, it weakened.
...
"I knew that if I had to bring back one of my many children in any way, shape or form, it would be her. She deserved better than to die... well, not young by any stretch, but with decades still ahead of her. Maybe with my original Mark and talents backing her up, she'll be able to make something of her life. After all, her love for acting wasn't connected to her Mark; that was something she developed on her own. Between my brains and her abilities? She may very well become a star by today's standards."
...
It lost the will to continue. It finally settled down, all the fight taken out of it.
The tiny filly's flank glowed. All movement stilled.
A red rook, permanently inked on a coat of pink fur, set the stage for a dreadful encounter years in the future.
...
"She sounds like quite the child, young lady," Ignition agreed respectfully. "You obviously treasure her memory if you chose her to be the basis for the Project. If you have the time, I wouldn't mind learning more about her."
Quarter checked a clock. Plenty of time before I have to meet back up with Carrie. She got as comfortable as she could while still holding her glass. "Then let me tell you a story, Ignition. A story of a filly named Cozy Glow."
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."
"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."
Drama Heart magicked open the door, letting Gray and her children--with Ebony at the front--into the Pyre. "That you are, dearies. How is everypony doing this fine morning?"
Fiver looked back at the rainstorm that they'd just gotten in out of. Ebony had tried to keep the entire group dry on their way in by carrying several umbrellas in her magic, but the quiet child hadn't been able to keep under them the entire time. "...You have a very strange definition of 'fine', Drama," she said, lashing her little tail about and flinging droplets with every swing.
"There's nothing strange about it, Five-of-a-Kind," Drama rebuked her, raising her voice to be heard over the hammering in the background. "Aside from the rain being good for rooftop plants and extra drinking water, it's the perfect backdrop for a creepy story!"
"Is there ever a time when you don't have scary stuff on the mind?" Pure Energy wondered.
A cheery grin. "No, never!"
"Then we have no choice," Ebony sighed with an 'I give up' air. "Get her."
"Death by cuddles!" Zig-Zag hollered, pointing a hoof forwards.
The four children tackled the surprised Drama, dogpiling her. A chorus of giggles and laughter escaped the pile for several seconds before it all fell silent. "...Huh," the stagemaster uttered in a quieter tone, bemused. "Okay, I see your point. Get off of me, please, and I'll get the spare towels."
As the children climbed off, Gray gestured at the auditorium. She was the only one of the group who was remaining serious. "Sally, meet me in there once you have my kittens occupied. I've got some news for you."
Seven minutes later, once Drama had given Ebony her tasks and provided the other three with one of her more child-oriented scripts to look over, both ponies reconvened on-stage. Gray pulled out the newspaper that she had been carrying in her wing and unfurled it, gesturing at one of the headlines.
"Mocha Beverage Heir Diagnosed With Brain Cancer," Drama read aloud. "Family Vows To Fight It. Hmm... Fairy was telling me that they'd crossed paths briefly yesterday. Said that the tomboy was mad at her for reasons she didn't understand."
"Leviathan's explained to me about that system she uses to classify ponies' strength," Gray added. "She said that Hazelnut ranked clear at the top of the list, somehow." She began to stare up at the ceiling, then thought better of it when the lights got in her eyes. "There are rumors that her family has its own martial arts style that she's a practitioner of, but I don't get how that's supposed to make her top of the line."
Having little martial knowledge, Drama didn't respond to that and instead opted to read on. "'A team of doctors and surgeons led by Canterlot's Dr. Comprehension will be treating Miss Hazelnut over the course of five days, using the latest in both surgical procedures and medical magic. Manehattan's Dr. Goodhealth states: "We were able to catch the cancer before it advanced too far, so we are optimistic that our patient will pass with flying colors and make a full recovery."'"
Gray turned away, anxiously pawing at the ground. "There's something about this I don't like, Sally."
Drama was confused, and not about what most ponies would view as aggressive behavior. "About the cancer treatment?"
"No, that's all well and good. It's just that my instincts are telling me that letting Leviathan and Hazelnut have another face-to-face meeting would be disastrous."
The puppet master gave Gray a long look before returning her attention to the newspaper. She has that 'I know something you don't know' look. Not getting involved. "And that would be none of my business. Is that all you wanted me to see?"
"No, there's another story. Turn the page."
Drama nudged open the newspaper. A photo of Princess Celestia leading a group of ponies into a building snagged her attention immediately. "What's this?"
"The search for a means of sending Leviathan home has finally begun," Gray explained even as Drama began reading the associated article. "I don't recognize any of them, but they're supposed to be graduates of the CSGU. If Celestia's overseeing this personally, it means everypony's taking it seriously."
Drama didn't answer at first, occupying herself with reading the article from start to finish. Once she was done, she folded the newspaper back up and pushed it away, trying to think about how she felt about this.
Leviathan had been living in Manehattan for almost three weeks now. It wasn't a long time by the standards of most. Still, in that short time frame a lot had happened, with more to come. And the more they talked to each other, the more Drama felt that she was absolved of any guilt for her antics during their first meeting.
She didn't have very many friends outside of her family. There was Gray, of course. Turkey Bowl was stretching it, though in the end he was on the list too. Now, it was beginning to look as if she was ready to add a third. She wondered if Leviathan saw her the same way, or if she was just "that horror host with little sense of personal space".
Most days, it meant little to her if she interacted or otherwise spent time with friends or not. Horror and storytelling were quite literally her entire life, which left little time for casual conversation. It was partially a reason, too, for why she opted not to seek out a potential marriage mate: her enthusiasm for her genre of choice made Gray's quirks look mild in comparison, driving away nearly all of those who would probably be interested. Before a certain Reploid saved her from lightning, she had shared her home with nopony.
Dating. Developing relationships. Marriage. Possibly even foals. Who has time for any of that? Or friendships. Getting to know somepony. Forming lifelong bonds. Again, why take the time? ...Probably why I never figured out that whole "friendship is magic" thing.
The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Possible friends had always been available; she had just never bothered to seek them out, instead letting them come to her. But now that there was a chance that one of them had to leave... "Gray?"
"Yeah?"
"Would it be wrong for me to wish that... Fairy didn't have to go home?"
Gray's perspective settled on the empty auditorium. She kept her mouth closed for a few minutes, frowning, and when she finally spoke it was with some hesitation. "If you want my personal opinion... no, it wouldn't be wrong in the strictest sense. I've found myself wishing it these past few days, after I was able to reunite with Junie. The problem is that she would never be able to rest easy. Being able to protect her home means everything to her. If anything were to happen to Neo Arcadia while she was gone..."
"Then she'd blame herself for not being there, and probably us for keeping her here," Drama finished, ears drooping. "I know that after that bad first impression, I wouldn't want to leave a worse final impression."
"I've heard her stories about that Dr. Weil character and what he did before." Gray shivered at the thought of him, or somepony similar, taking over Manehattan. "I wouldn't wish somepony like him on my worst enemy. It's best to let her go, if it means protecting her home from that sort of scum."
Drama eyed her curiously. "Do you even have enemies?"
Gray pretended to examine a speck on the stage. "I... had a few. Emphasis on 'had'."
Beat. "Another one of those things I don't need to know about?"
"Bingo."
An uneasy silence fell between them. The ponies' ears twitched when a noise that sounded like Pure Energy's laughter reached them from outside the auditorium. "Well, then. I guess we'll just have to support her as much as we can," Drama decided, a plan starting to percolate in her brain.
Her friend must've detected something in her voice, because she wasn't stretched out on the stage anymore. "Sally?"
"Gray, I'm cancelling tonight's performance." Drama opened a trapdoor built into the stage, magicking a copy of her tattered dress out of the compartment within. "But that doesn't mean you're off the hook. No. You are going to help me think!"
"This is sudden." Gray was paying attention. "Think of what?"
Drama slipped into her dress with well-practiced ease, the Cutie Mark clasp holding it in place at the neck. "Are you familiar with the term 'outside context problem', Gray?"
"I've been living one for three weeks," was Gray's dry response.
Drama blinked once, then twice as she applied her contact lenses. Her irises, now a dangerous shade of red, blazed with emotion as she began building up steam. "Manehattan... no, Equestria was caught off guard by the existence of off-world life," Burning Salamandra declared, pushing the lens case back into the compartment and closing the trapdoor. "The trial Leviathan is attending today is for those that severely underestimated what a Reploid was capable of. With her presence alone, she is redefining what it means to be truly alive!"
Gray's ears swiveled as she registered strings, and her pupils shrunk as the air around them started to subtly twist. "Uh-oh," she whispered. She jumped off the stage, wings flapping hard as she bolted for the exit. "Ebony! Cover your eyes, now---WHA?!"
A tendril of pure magic darted from Salamandra's horn, catching one of Gray's hind legs before she could leave and yanking her back onto the stage. "We've seen her life from every angle, dearie," she continued as if Gray wasn't on her back and dazed from the impact, the magic dissolving. "The bitter, the sweet, the sour. A killer, a warrior. A protector. And in a strange way, an ingenue. Equestria is seeing what Neo Arcadia turned her into, but has Neo Arcadia seen what Equestria will turn her into?" She giggled wickedly, her on-stage persona having fully overcome her. "Not yet, it hasn't. But it will, it will, it will!"
Percussion, strings and winds roared, as powerful as the song that characterized her evening stories. Gray had enough time to scramble to her hooves before her surroundings shifted, dragging her into the world of Salamandra's heart.
Once more, there was a group of individuals gathered in Mocha Corp. HQ's hidden conference room. Unlike last time, the room was fully lit: everypony present could now see each other clearly. True to her word, Quarter had arranged to have new lights installed.
Speaking of said boss, she was not present. Quarter would be staying at the hospital for the duration of her treatment, leaving Ignition to cover for her while she was away. The meeting could not be cancelled: Bastion and Gates had just returned from their mission to the Dragon Lands, so the overall plan needed to move forward.
Ignition cleared his throat as he took his seat. "Let's get down to business. Why did Metallium retreat?"
His helmet hid his expression, but it was easy to discern Gates's amusement. "A combination of the Princess telling her off and a personal summons from their Dragon Lord. Never saw a dragon cry before. It's honestly embarrassing."
"It does not look like she will be able to assist us any more," Bastion continued. "According to her, the Dragon Lord was furious that Metallium left at all. She was already under suspicion while she was collecting the shed scales for Ms. Quarter's experiments, and her departure prompted him to take action once he learned of it."
"Did you happen to learn anything of this 'Dragon Lord' while you were there?" Ignition asked. "What are your thoughts on---"
"I can hear her singing," Illudere interrupted dreamily, jumping out of her chair and walking towards the wall farthest from her.
Ignition's left eye twitched at the interruption. "Agent #5, back to your seat. The meeting has just started."
One and all, everypony present shuddered at that little laugh. "Oh, crud," Calico groaned. "I think her brain's stuck again."
Illudere's head slowly turned to look at them. An ear to ear smile formed, one that left no doubt that she'd never needed serious dental work done in her life. "I can hear her singing, Ignition," she crooned. "The Pyre is ablaze with the sound of music! The melody tortures, it tears, it terrifies as she burns! I can't wait for the day when she collapses into cinders! Hee hee hee... hee hee hee hee... Sallll-aaaaa-mannnnn-draaaa!"
...
In the end, it became necessary for them to keep her gagged for the next few minutes. Bushwhacker noted that the strange muffled mutterings he'd been hearing from her quarters the past few evenings were making sense now.
Through it all, Ralph swung from Illudere's mane entirely un-bothered.
In the past year, Gray had experienced some heartsongs on account of being in close proximity to Salamandra whenever she cut loose. Most of the imagery that accompanied the music was nightmarish to ponykind, and the tune tended to be the same on each occasion due to it being her standard opening number.
Not this time. While still powerful, instead of being ominous and threatening, the melody seemed fairly uplifting. It wasn't to the point where she'd want to find her husband and take part in a waltz, since it was utterly unfitting for that scenario, but... 'encouraging' seemed the right word.
And while the initial imagery was still frightening to anypony who wasn't Gray, there was still hope to be had. All she had to do was listen.
It's a rare warrior that attains victories over scourges and calamities without knowing that somewhere behind and close by is the force upon whom they rely!
A hissing noise drew Gray's attention to an eighty-foot serpent that looked like it could swallow large boulders whole, never mind ponies. She knew that it had to have been one of Salamandra's puppets with a magical overlay, but she didn't have time to figure out which one before it opened its mouth.
(Dr. Weil, not far from 'vile' A tyrant of the highest order!)
Salamandra dismissed the serpent with a wave, and it slithered off into the shadows.
An unseen fate, our friend will achieve Who ultimately knows what lies in store? We cannot see the answer to this unless she returns to the land of lore!
And oh, won't they be surprised?
The imagery shifted as she continued singing, showing scenes that Gray discerned were from Leviathan's perspective: the four missions she had recently undertook. Gray had gotten the Guardian's stories of that life-changing day, and Levi hadn't skimped on the details.
But it was the last one that was the most attention-grabbing. Standing on a rocky undersea platform was a bipedal being in red, with a blonde ponytail flowing from the back of his helmet and a triangle-bladed sword in his hand. Given how often Leviathan gushed over him--enough for Salamandra to get a good mental image of his appearance--there was no question as to his identity.
I am willing to call Fairy a friend, you see I wonder, does she think it of me? Even if she doesn't, fabric's truth will be sewn She needs to know that she's not alone!
Gray did a double-take when a random stone materialized a mouth and offered its own spoken contribution. Oddly yet unsurprisingly (given who was creating the image), the figure before her was just as surprised.
(Reploid Zero, not far from 'hero' A likely model of victory!)
The stone vanished with the rest of the image, though when she blinked Gray swore she saw Zero moving to attack it.
There is a city and more to guard A journey home to settle the score We cannot see the outcome of this unless she returns to the land of lore!
Flabbergast a robot, why won't we?
...
Salamandra had built up a full head of steam, and she doubtless had more on her mind than what she had already sung. But before she could consider a third verse or even a bridge, she was interrupted by somepony loud, teenaged, and a bit excited.
"That was totally wicked!"
The heartsong didn't fade out as much as it snapped out, the music record-scratching itself away and the imagery popping back to the Pyre's auditorium. With one pony still caught in her emotional high and the other a bit addled from what she'd been seeing, it took several moments for them to register what just happened.
Standing just in the doorway were the four children, reacting in their own ways to what Salamandra's imagination had dragged them into. The boys were enthusiastic, Fiver was stone silent, and Ebony had slapped a hoof over her mouth out of embarrassment.
A bit more time passed before the two adults recovered, with Salamandra taking a deep breath and calming herself enough to avoid another emotional override. "How much of that did you hear, young ones?" she questioned them, descending the stairs on the side of the stage and trotting up one of the aisles to meet them. Gray took wing and flew over the seats ahead of her, reaching the children first.
"We heard the whole thing," Ebony said dryly, blushing after her outburst and awkwardly staring at the wall. "Kind of hard not to."
"We were going to tell you that your script is A-OK, A-OK," Pure Energy explained. "We'd just left your office, then it was Topsy Turvy Day all over again."
"...I'm surprised that the remodelers didn't get caught in it," Fiver commented, ears shifting as they picked up Mortar & Son still hard at work.
Zig-Zag didn't say anything, though not for a lack of intent. His face contorted as he tried to think of some way to express himself, then fell when the necessary words didn't cross his mind.
"I hope you're not going to tell us that you want to join Leviathan in fighting or something equally silly," Gray sternly informed them, positioning herself in such a way that told the children that she wasn't going to back down like she did several days ago.
"What's the word... ...'rambunctious' is not a synonym of 'idiotic', Mom," Ebony retorted, regaining her composure. "I want to be in pest control, not the military." For punctuation, her magic wrapped around her flyswatter and ended the life of a gnat that was circling around in front of her.
"Sall-Sall's right," Energy continued. "Fairy needs to know that Manehattan has her back."
"'Sall-Sall'?" Salamandra mouthed, a tad incredulous at the nickname.
"Public opinion of Leviathan's improving, yes, but saying that the city as a whole is supporting her is too much," Gray countered. "It will take something drastic for that to happen."
Salamandra brought herself back into the discussion. "In the meantime, we can start small and work our way up. Devising a care package that she can take with her back to Neo Arcadia might be a good place to start."
Gray raised a hoof to her chin, considering this. "That could work. I'll need to press Leviathan for more details on what Reploids and their creators would need, but a non-technological approach will give those in opposition to Weil a much needed advantage. Though we'll need to be careful not to give too much."
"Why, Mom?" was the foals' predictable response.
Gray closed her eyes, musing on this even as she continued speaking. "If we offered anything permanent, that would alert her city's more unsavory types. They would not only discover that magic is real, but they would try to seek it out for themselves and cause no end of trouble with it. I've read enough fiction to know that it never turns out well."
"'Be discreet about it' is what you're trying to say. Right," Salamandra agreed. "Well then, we'll spend tonight trying to figure that out. In the meantime, we've got work to do. Energy, was my script as 'A-OK' as you said, or is there anything that needs adjusting?..."
It was reasonably late in the afternoon before I returned to the Pyre, but not so late that Celestia's sun had made headway in sinking past the skyline. The last of the matinee performances should be wrapping up by now.
Courtroom trials take longer here than they do in Neo Arcadia, but in the end this business is done. Just some rudimentary paperwork to deal with, and the officials I worked with today told me they have that covered. It is too late to get any patrols in, so I decided to just return to my home away from home.
Along with my two new partners in crimefighting, that is.
I'm proven correct when I reach the Pyre: a dozen or so foals and their chaperones are in the midst of leaving. Some of them are getting distracted and clamoring for my attention. With hesitation--and with a few nudges from Maverick--I give it to them.
I make a note to run some diagnostics later. I think my heart's in danger of melting entirely.
Once the foals' parents and such are able to convince the children to leave me be, I enter the building. I quickly scan my surroundings: Mortar & Son, along with their extra help, packing up some of their supplies for the day; one of Drama's part-timers is manning the concessions booth, anxious to leave; the Ghost-Guard kids, minus Ebony, are chatting it up with their father near the auditorium doors (huh, he must've gotten off work early today) ... nothing eventful that I can tell. My partners and I wave at the kids as I walk past them into the auditorium---
"KYAAA!"
---and my foot catches on a strange lump on my way in, spilling me into the back row.
"Easy there!" Maverick protests as she and Magnum pull me to my feet. "You almost kicked us! What happened?"
A familiar sleepy yawn answers them both from the lump in quest---...! "Oh. You're back. Hi, Levi."
Huh. If I didn't know better, I'd say my coolant was boiling. "Gray!" I shout at her, kneeling over the seats to get at her. "You're supposed to be a pony, not a tripping hazard!" I swear, my scanners pick the worst times to turn themselves off!
"This feels familiar," Magnum murmurs, seeming distracted.
Gray, entirely unperturbed by my yelling at her close up, reaches her head up. I flinch at the odd sensation of sandpaper on my chin. "So, how did the trial go?"
"Why the Tartarus did she do that?" Maverick mutters, bewildered and fairly disgusted.
"This really feels familiar," Magnum comments again.
Calm. Yourself. Down. I exhale, and I'm hoping the motion takes my irritation with it. "The unicorns and remaining earth pony got sentences ranging from five to ten years, discounting parole opportunities," I say, rubbing my chin with the back of my hand. "I suppose the terms would have been longer if they hadn't agreed to give up the locations of their stashes."
Gray nods as she climbs to her hooves. "And these two? They're Knight and Gargoyle, right?"
I remain where I am, all the better to stay close to eye level. "Thanks to the events of the past few days, Maverick and Magnum here received sentences that amounted to 'time served' and 'several hundred hours of community service'. They'll be spending that service working with me directly. In the event that the Crown's able to send me back before then, any remaining time will be spent with the Police."
"You know of any cheap apartments or hotels where we can stay in the meantime, hobo?" Maverick asks of Gray. I wince at that, but the latter's expression doesn't waver. "I don't have a home anymore, and we don't know yet whether Magnum's parents are going to want her back under their roof."
"The Hyacinth Apartments in Bronclyn have some empty rooms," Gray offers, smiling serenely. "I'm on good terms with the superintendent. If you name-drop me, you should be able to get a good deal."
"And your name would be...?"
"Gray Ghost," she introduces herself. "Just a humble housewife."
A gasp from an unexpected source. "IT'S YOU!"
I twitch, startled at Magnum's sudden declaration. I'm about to tell her off... but a broad smile and excited eyes belay that intention, and I instead wonder what drives her to raise her voice. Gray's smile falls away, replaced by curiosity.
The surprised Maverick raises a hoof placatingly. "Whoa! Calm down there, girl!"
Attracted by the racket, Gray's family pokes their heads into the auditorium. Somewhere behind me, Drama enters from backstage for the same reason. Magnum ignores them all. "Calm down? What do you mean, 'calm down'?!" she exclaims, the happiest she's been since her job interview. "Don't you get it? She's the one! This crazy cat-pony's the one who saved my life!"
Ignition folded up the gag he'd used to keep Illudere quiet and put it away. "Now, then. Are you done?"
"I'm Illudere," was the answer he got. "Nice to meet you, Done."
"That's the best you're going to get," Calico told the somewhat annoyed second-in-command. "For her, sanity comes and goes. Mostly the second."
A mutter of "So I've noticed", and Ignition was ready to continue the meeting. He returned to his seat, turned back to the two thieves and beckoned them to answer. "Now then, gentlecolts. As I was saying, what are your thoughts on the Dragon Lord? Did you learn anything of him?"
"In a word? Huge," Gates confirmed with a note of disbelief. "I didn't think dragons got that big. Thank somepony who isn't Celestia that he's not belligerent, because he could probably flatten most of Manehattan by himself and see it as just another day at the office. Bringing Metallium back into the group isn't worth provoking him."
"For the sake of size comparison...?"
"Think of an Ursa Major, and you're on the right track," Bastion contributed.
Most of those present shivered in fear (aside from Illudere, who was shivering with delight). While none of them had ever encountered one of those legendary beasts personally, they all knew of the Ursas' reputations.
"Metallium will be marked down as a lost cause, then," Ignition decided, making a note of that decision. "I'll pass this along to Lady Quarter when I next speak to her. Agent #6, you were in charge of gauging public opinion of the Siren General. Your findings?"
"I finished compiling them last night," Calico reported. "On average, Equestria's larger cities have a positive view of her. Doing all the math, I determined that the nation's approval rating sits at about 52%, with 28% disapproving and 20% on the fence. Prior to the captures of Agents #1-#4, the numbers sat closer to 26, 41 and 33, respectively." She smiled sardonically. "Doing nice things for ponies can effect popular opinions. Who knew?"
"Save the sarcasm and continue."
"Alright, since you asked so nicely." Calico hooved through the papers in front of her. "Obviously, this doesn't take into account towns and villages with less than a thousand residents, since their newspapers--if any--don't have as wide a circulation. But on the whole, ponies like her. And this is despite her having disclosed her fairly sordid past weeks ago." A bitter chuckle. "It's almost enough to make me think your race has a thing for redemption stories."
"And yours doesn't?" Bushwhacker asked with polite curiosity.
"You're a good kid, but I don't want to talk about it," Calico said firmly, waiting until Bushwhacker nodded and settled back before finishing. "Let's just leave it at that."
"I expected changelings to be a bit more vicious when we met," Gates brought up. "But he's getting cowed a little bit too easily. Don't you think that's weird?"
The air rippled around them, causing them to lean back from a wave of oppressive heat. "Yeah," Calico snarled, her coat rapidly shifting between light and dark as she struggled to keep her temper behind lock and key. "Almost as weird as what's going to happen if you call me that again!"
"Either calm yourself down or subsist on normal rations from now on," Ignition warned. "If you haven't had a fire extinguisher used on you before, you won't like the sensation."
"I wasn't even insulting you this time," Gates couldn't resist adding. "What are you getting worked up over?"
"...Oh." The heat wave dissipated, and Calico sank into her seat. "I thought you were calling me a..." Her face sported a nice vermillion hue as she looked away from everypony, embarrassed. "Sorry. Nothing more to report, Ignition."
"Direct your temper at somepony more deserving, and we'll consider the matter closed. Agent #9, don't egg her on, intentionally or otherwise."
Bushwhacker raised a hoof. "In his defense, it was a legitimate question. And if I were hungrier, then yes, I can imagine myself being more aggressive and mean. But ever since First Quarter stationed me in Ponyville, I've been living in a more-or-less love-rich environment. And I've been able to make some of the cleaning staff here think I'm cute just by being myself. It's not the greatest of circumstances, but I'm not lacking for food, either. It's certainly better than when I was still under Chrysalis's thrall."
"And you're not buggy right now, why?" Illudere asked, one of her brief glimpses of reality timing itself properly.
The changeling shrugged. "I guess because I'm too used to being like this."
Ignition cleared his throat. "If I may continue? We don't have all morning."
Bushwhacker nodded agreeably. "Sorry about the interruption. Go ahead, sir."
Without further ado, Ignition cut into the meat of the meeting. "I've received several reports from Research and Development. Agents #5-7, while your armors have proven difficult to work with, the enchanted chest pieces no longer serve their prior functions and are present solely for decoration. You may reclaim your suits at any time."
Calico and Illudere grinned toothily and cackled, respectively, at the news. Bushwhacker wasn't quite as pleased. "I'm assuming that we'll still need to make do without any helmets?"
"Unfortunately, yes. The department's present workload has them unable to craft any cranial protection, so the three of you will still need to protect those areas in your own ways. Leviathan has to date shown a reluctance to kill flesh-and-blood entities, but that does not mean that she won't try to exploit that weakness somehow. Don't let yourself rely too heavily on your armor's impregnability."
Ignition waited until the assorted affirmatives died down before moving on. "Two items left that need covering. The first is that R&D's present workload has them developing a proper delivery system for the Crown Jewels. Their proof-of-concept has been finished and is ready for use in the field, but they claim it will take them six days at least before they can build a fully functional prototype that incorporates that design."
On a cue, a hoof raised. "What are these 'Crown Jewels' you are talking about?" Bastion asked. "They were mentioned before, but that was it."
"Three artifacts that have existed for as long as ponykind, or even longer," Ignition explained. "These are not mere baubles to be worn on the body to enhance one's own abilities. These are gemstones as big as the average pony, capable of tremendous power, and virtually indestructible."
Gates snorted. "I've heard that before. Every time somepony says that something can't be broken or destroyed, guess what happens to it? It's one of the certainties in life: death, taxes, and morons tempting fate."
"There once was a dragon that said and believed the same thing you did," Ignition countered. "He saw one of those gems and believed it would be a good meal. He was reduced to lapping up diamond dust until his teeth grew back in. The Jewel wasn't so much as dented."
Calico whistled, and Bushwhacker seemed impressed. "That means that Leviathan won't be able to destroy them if she finds them, at least," he remarked.
"If you still harbor doubts," Ignition told the room at large, though he was directing it primarily at Gates, "then I'll inform you of a little anecdote Lady Quarter discovered when she first uncovered the Jewels' existence. How many of you are familiar with the name 'Grogar'?"
Calico frowned. "Never heard of it."
"Same," Bushwhacker chimed in.
"Sounds like the name of an ogre's love child," Gates snarked.
"Just as a foal's bedtime story," Bastion rumbled. "An entity who ruled the lands in pre-Equestria times before somepony finally banished him."
"Hee hee hee hee..."
Once again, all eyes turned to Illudere at the sound of her giggling. She wasn't getting up or getting distracted, but that unnerving grin was creeping them out. "Do you have something to say, Agent #5?" Ignition pointedly asked.
Another giggle. "Grogar, Grogar, Grogar-r-r," Illudere trilled. "The Father of All Monsters, the Greatest of Goats, the Rammiest of Rams, the Lord of the Dance---!"
"I doubt that," Ignition and Calico spoke in unison. Both did double takes, though it was Calico whose face was red in the aftermath.
Illudere continued. "---and the Baron of the Bell! Power for days, for weeks, for months! Enough power to make an emperor blush! Beautiful, it was so beautiful!"
"And during his final encounter with the one who sealed him, one of Grogar's magic blasts struck the Jewels," Ignition finished. "Instead of destroying them, they absorbed a minuscule portion of the magic and dispersed the rest."
"...Where in the world do you and Quarter hear these stories?" Gates spoke after a minute of shock from all parties (aside from the insane unicorn in the room). "And what sort of coincidence would allow that situation to come up?"
"Tales of Grogar were more commonplace in the period surrounding the three tribes' unification than they are now. And I shouldn't have to remind you that Quarter is old enough to have heard some of those stories." Ignition nodded at Bushwhacker. "What I am getting at is that the Jewels are the cornerstone of her plan to remove Celestia from the throne and fulfill the promises that were made to all agents."
"I imagine that they wouldn't be like that without some sort of special ability," Bushwhacker mused. "What do they have going for them?"
"The Crown Jewels are able to absorb magic, much like Lord Tirek and Grogar were reportedly able to do," Ignition informed the group. "However, they differ in that they don't absorb vast amounts of magic all at once, as they would have taken in the entirety of Grogar's attack otherwise. Rather, they passively collect trace amounts of ambient magic from their surroundings over long stretches of time."
Calico raised a hoof. "How long a stretch are we talking about here? Months? Years?"
"Centuries to millennia."
Most of the agents couldn't hide their surprise. "Something smells rotten about this," Gates complained. "Has anypony even tried to use the Jewels in any way? How do they know that it takes them that long to absorb magic? They'd be long dead before they could figure out anything concrete."
"This is where the author admits that he wrote himself into a corner," Illudere whispered to Calico, eyes shifting back and forth across the room as if searching for eavesdroppers.
"And if I had any idea what in Tartarus you were talking about, I'd be agreeing with you," Calico whispered back, a bead of sweat sliding down behind her right ear. Sometimes, a little 'crazy' doesn't go far enough. Who in blazes does she mean by an 'author'? Did she dream that up?
In the meantime, the discussion continued. "Records show at least three others have tried to use their Jewels for their own ends. It can be safely discerned that all three of them failed due to not completely understanding their nature. Nonetheless, those ponies have all left what they found for anypony willing and able to search for them. Which is where Quarter and his dedicated team of researchers enter the picture."
"Better a group of minds working together than individual minds working alone," Bastion discerned. "At this point in history, ponies can measure how much magical power is stored in the Jewels, and compare it to comments in the old records if they want to see how big of a difference there is."
"Correct, Agent #8. And it is because of their ability to take such measurements that we know how much power they currently possess: more than enough to allow Quarter to take Celestia's place. But as I stated previously, it will take at least six days for the fully functional prototype to be built."
"You mentioned a proof-of-concept?" Bastion asked.
"Correct, and as I said, it is now operational. You may claim it and test it at the training areas at your discretion. Agent #9, will you be wanting any additional weapons?"
"I'll stick to what I have," Gates replied with no shortage of mirth. "I am loving the enhancements Quarter's team made to my knives. And don't think I didn't notice that function your team placed in my armor, you sneaky little rats."
Ignition nodded and made a note of that for the records. "Then with that business taken care of, we can focus on the last and most important item on the itinerary: Leviathan and Gray Ghost's permanent removal. This must be accomplished before the prototype is complete, or else Quarter's coup will need to be put on hold."
Illudere's giggling gained a sinister edge. "I can hear the Pyre sing, singing the song of angry mares..."
"Leviathan's home base is already established," Calico brought up. "What of the Ghost's?"
"That information is not a matter of public record," Ignition denied, audibly--though not visibly--annoyed. "The only ones who know that would be those that are on considerably friendly terms with her, and we don't know who those ponies are."
"And her family," Bushwhacker pointed out. "Assuming she has any."
"The fact that she married and left the force is common knowledge," Bastion said to him before addressing Ignition. "A fellow by the name of Ocean Guard. If you want a workaround, it might be worthwhile to find out where he works, then send Bushwhacker in to check the company records. They're required to have their homes on file in case of emergencies."
"I'm having trouble believing that the city's directories don't have her address written down," Calico grumbled. "She's supposed to be a common civili---..."
Everypony looked at each other when Calico suddenly went silent, her eyes widening. The silence in the room was heavy, and Illudere was contemplating having Ralph poke her. After a few moments, the kirin emitted a loud groan and all but slammed her face into the conference table.
"...Miss Driftwood?" Bushwhacker tentatively asked. Having been around ponies long enough that some of their traits had rubbed off on him, he did not need to fake his concern. "Are you alright?"
"Fne" was the answer they got, Calico's voice muffled. After a few seconds she pulled her face out of the table and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Fine. But I just realized how much of an idiot I've been. I can't believe I didn't remember it sooner. I was reading the edition that announced Leviathan's presence just yesterday."
Gates gave Bastion a look--which he didn't bother returning--before turning to Calico. "What are you getting at?"
"The story on the front page said that the robot was found at Flower Row in Bronclyn," Calico explained, her words a bit more biting than was normal for her. "Gray Ghost was the first one listed as being interviewed. Her comments heavily implied that she was living in that area."
"Flower Row..." Gates had a hoof on his helmet's chin. "I remember the place. A blockful of apartment buildings named after different plants."
"Their quality ranges from average to run-down," Bastion continued. "There are mostly low-income households there, with only a few having any real money. It was one of the few places Gates and I never considered stealing from, since by and large it isn't worth it."
"So we don't need to jump through hoops to find her whereabouts," Calico concluded. "All we need to do is scope out Flower Row and keep an eye on which building she enters or exits."
The group fell silent as the idea was considered. It seemed to have merit, but ultimately the final decision rested in Ignition's hooves. As First Quarter's mouthpiece and right-hand pony, it was up to him to consider all of the angles and try to see things from their leader's perspective. As they waited, Ignition's eyebrows furrowed and one of his hooves tapped the tables at random intervals as he stared off at nothing.
At last, his eyes hardened. "Agent #5."
"Eee-yesss?" Illudere droned lovingly. Calico resisted the urge to growl at her, aware that she didn't know any better.
"Listen close. Just so it sinks in, I'll say it again: listen close. Agent #7, this concerns you as well, so pay attention..."
It was, I want to say... 17 years ago. My parents and I were traveling to visit relatives elsewhere in Equestria. On our way, we stopped in that Ponyville place to buy a jar of what the locals called 'Zap Apple jam', since the fruit was in season. Awesome stuff, by the way, can totally recommend.
This was my first time away from the big city, so I couldn't help exploring while my parents were out shopping. I looked up at one of the houses and saw this weird pony sleeping up on the roof. That part wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that she had these metal protrusions on her hooves.
I called out to her, woke her up and asked her what those things were. She had this easy-going, laid-back approach to her. It was like nothing in the world could disturb her, she was so at peace. She told me that she was a special agent for the Princess, and that those metal things were her weapons. Naturally I didn't believe her; I imagined that the Princess's guards were a lot more serious than she was being. Still do, in fact.
So, we said good-bye and parted ways, and I continued my tour of the village. It was about ten minutes later that ponies started scattering all over the place, yelling and screaming. I looked back to see what was going on, and froze up in the face of the most terrifying thing I've seen in my life.
Seriously, this thing defined "monstrous". It had the shape of an earth pony, but it had skin textured like marble and had no hair whatsoever. Size-wise... this building's lobby could probably hold it, but not by much. The most disturbing part of it was that it had two heads with broken teeth and bloodshot, hungry eyes. And it was walking straight for me.
I was locked in place, couldn't move from sheer fright. I heard my parents shouting for me, but I wasn't able to answer them. My eyes were centered on that thing as it reached for me.
The next thing I knew, I was several houses away. I couldn't tell what happened; it was all a blur. And standing where I'd been a moment before was the same strange, laid-back pony I'd been talking with, facing down that creature with zero fear and all of the anger in the world.
I don't think the creature realized what happened, since it just kept reaching for her. I blinked, I heard a roar, and its foreleg was on the ground... I didn't really process that fact until after the incident was over. The pony got into the creature's face and told it to return to wherever it came from, or else it would lose a lot more than just its leg.
Its response was to try and chomp down on her. Her answer to that was to bite one of its muzzles when it got too close. The creature didn't like that, but it got the hint. It picked up the leg that was cut off in one of its mouths, turned, and limped back to the Forest as quickly as it could.
The weird pony lost all of her anger, walked up to me and nuzzled me the same way that she did to Leviathan just a few minutes ago, asking if I was okay. For a moment, it felt less like I was interacting with a pony than with the world's biggest housecat. She then pushed me towards my parents when they galloped up, traded a few words with them, and flew away. Until today, I hadn't seen her since.
"...I have no idea what the creature even was," Magnum says as she finishes her story. "I looked it up at the library the next time it occurred to me, but I couldn't find anything that matched up."
"Those would be ettins," Gray confirms. "Giant, two-headed, physically tough pony-like beings that don't act anything like their basis. Carnivorous cannibals with a taste for meat, and especially pony meat. It's rare that they actually visit civilization, since their poor intelligence and even poorer long-term memory makes them forget where their favorite prey is situated. I haven't heard any reports of them since that encounter." She shakes her head. "They're dangerous when they do appear, so it's worth keeping an eye out for them."
This is the most silence I've ever heard in one room. Gray's children--including Ebony, who turned up in the middle of Magnum's account--are awestruck. Even Fiver's eyelids have risen a fraction. Ocean Guard seems conflicted about something. Drama Heart's eyes are starry: new ideas to incorporate into her works, I'm guessing. Maverick's alternating her stare between Magnum and Gray, one eyebrow threatening to split itself off of her face.
Speaking for myself: this makes so much sense.
I've known since the duel at Bronclyn High that Gray had served Celestia in some capacity beyond her role as a police officer. If weaponry and techniques like the ones she utilized against me were commonplace, I would've seen the MRPD's ponies using them in the field and joining me in battle. This would suggest a more specialized role. Learning that she was a direct agent of the Princess's will has caused things to solidify in my mind.
Gray is fully focused on Magnum. "I remember that day now," she's saying, her laid-back behavior shelved in favor of something more serious. "Your story jogged my memory. As long as I behaved like myself, I knew nopony would believe that line about being one of Celestia's agents. And I had full confidence in my ability to snap myself out of my usual mindset if the situation was dire. Seeing a little kitten in danger did the trick."
"You weren't just messing with me when you said you had Celestia for a pen pal," Ebony realizes, entirely disbelieving. What? "You were being serious."
"Mom is awesome," Zig-Zag whispers, still in his awestruck state of mind. Nopony else seems to have heard it, and I just barely did.
Ocean takes a step nearer to his wife. "This is news to me, dear. At what point did you serve the Princess directly? Wouldn't your job with the Police have taken too much time away?"
On being asked this, Gray seems distressed... maybe just a little sad. I don't know what sort of conflict is bothering her, but I can take a guess.
And apparently, so can Maverick and Magnum. "Do you want us to leave?" the former asks Gray. "Whatever this is about isn't really our business. We can, um... just go to that apartment you suggested if you would like?"
Gray's expression remains for a bit longer before she finally closes her eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. "I was hoping I would never have to talk about this. I'd been banking on that portion of my background fading away while I focused on helping Ocean raise the family. I just know I'm going to get in serious trouble for breaking protocol so spectacularly..." She opens her eyes, something clearly having straightened itself out in her mind. When she speaks, her typical tone is replaced by one that I used to associate with Copy X: in charge and brooking no backtalk. "Leviathan. Scan the building. Is there anypony else close enough to hear?"
I activate my scanners, triggering the additional detection systems that were recovered during the recent battles. Mortar & Son have left, taking their tools with them. Drama's part-timer is in the middle of clocking out. There are no other ponies in the building aside from those present with me.
Manehattan's usual assortment of passers-by are milling around outside the theater, as is normal. There's somepony that my systems are labeling a Class-B threat across the street on the rooftops, but the individual in question is positioned in a way that suggests that they're sunbathing, complete with sunglasses and a book. "Drama, your employee is waiting for his payment," I say as my vision resets. "You might want to take care of that."
"And there's the excuse I needed." Drama trotted past the group and out of the auditorium, her voice following her out. "I'll be in my office if anypony needs me."
Gray's next words are directed at my cohorts. "Go with Fairy to the Hyacinth Apartments. Talk to the superintendent and tell him that you have my recommendation."
"Right..." Magnum gives me a questioning look. "Boss?"
I get off of the seat I was kneeling on and head for the doors. "Let's get the two of you situated. Follow me. I'll see the rest of you later."
I understand the importance of keeping secrets better than anyone. Copy X's death was one such secret, one that we hid for over a year from Neo Arcadia's people. There has been no shortage of confidentiality, and that's true no matter which government I interact with.
Something else I understand is that friendship or not, there are still some details I'm not allowed to know. I'm not going to blame them for anything: if I learned something that I shouldn't, and I was captured later, there's always a slim possibility of them getting those details out of me. Depending on what Gray's position was, the fallout for those associated with her could turn ugly.
Logically that's what is circulating in my systems right now, and I should be following that logic without complaint. Emotionally, I still wish I could be trusted a little more with Gray's background. She's willing to confess one of Equestria's secrets to her family, but not to me?
I can ponder this later. Right now, I need to vouch for my charges and get them a roof over their heads.
As per my usual, I scan the area ahead of me when leaving the Pyre. Some of the ponies around me look at me expectantly, but I ignore them. I gauge the distance from here to the rooftops, making sure that nothing's in my way.
Hmm. Something about this strikes me as odd. I seem to remember there being a billboard alongside my usual route. When we returned here it was via taxi, so I didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was dismantled and taken down while I was in court? I don't know how much of that makes sense, but that's the best I can figure out.
When I make my Double Jump-assisted journey up to the roof, it lands me next to the Class-B pony I'd detected. "Yiiia!" she shrieks, nearly flinging her book aside and falling off of her chair. "Don't startle me like that, Miss Levia!"
The entire motion makes me stumble, but I'm able to keep my balance. Seeing that I've stopped, Maverick and Magnum have done the same, and---wait, when did I summon the Javelin out of storage? I must still be a little on edge from the recent goings-on if I'm that quick on the trigger. But she is Class-B, so maybe it helps if I'm ready anyway? Those first four that I fought were the same rank, so if she ends up being a threat...
I give the unicorn a quick scan. She's maybe around Drama's age, as far as I can tell. Sky blue coat, with a strange combination of cream and dark gray for her mane and tail. An empty drinking glass for a Cutie Mark... weird, but I've noticed that a lot of Marks are, anyway. Her manestyle is the same as what I recall from Illudere's profile, but not everypony can logically be expected to take good care of them. "I'm sorry for disturbing you," I say to her respectfully. "Forgive me. I'll let you get back to your rest."
The pony's head turns towards me for the first time, her horn lighting up as she makes eye contact with me over her sha---
...
...
...
...
...
... The pony watched as the robot's arms suddenly fell limp, the Javelin falling loose from her hand and clattering to the rooftop. Her legs wavered for a few moments, trying to keep her upright, before they gave way beneath her. She fell first to her knees as her helmet's jewel dimmed, then pitched forward onto the ground as her eyes slid closed.
The space where the two former thieves were hovering wavered, then shifted. Where before there was nothing, now there was a billboard with two large indents in the middle of it. Collapsed at its base were both pegasi, dazed and moaning in pain: misled by an illusion into thinking Leviathan was still alongside them, they had built up speed, kept going and crashed into something they couldn't see.
Behind the inverted colors and altered Mark that hid her true appearance, Illudere whickered softly and crooned a soft lullaby at Leviathan's downed form. "Sleep tight, my little child, and let your dreams run wild. May you go stand directly below a torrent of falling buffalo..."
-"If you're finished being nonsensically macabre, Agent #5, continue carrying out your part of the plan. Agents #6-#9 are delayed, but they will reach the Hyacinth Apartments before long, so don't dawdle."-
Ignition's transmission, coupled with a light poke by Ralph's free pincer, got Illudere on track. Not needing them anymore, she relaxed her illusion to remove the shades and book from her disguise, as well as the chair she'd been sitting in. Enshrouding Leviathan to hide her from sight, she slipped away and carried the lost Guardian with her, huffing somewhat at the magical exertion. Heavy...
The first thing I do upon waking up is to smack the soft alarm going off outside my capsule. "General Leviathan," I announce to the empty air as the last of my systems finish booting up. "What is it?"
"We just received an interesting message," Harpuia's voice tells me from an attached speaker. "It's from Dr. Ciel. Report to the meeting room when it's convenient."
I'm immediately wondering what's happening. From Ciel? From the Resistance? It must have been attention grabbing. Harpuia doesn't call me for small-scale business. "I'm on my way now," I say, climbing out of the capsule and hurrying away as fast as dignity and decorum will allow.
The screen goes dark as the presentation finishes. I turn towards Harpuia and Fefnir, letting my awe and wonder speak for me. The pretty boy and the battle nerd are having similar reactions, despite this being the second time they've seen it. "...It has promise," the former admits. "Assuming it works, this 'Ciel System' she crafted would go a long way towards diminishing the energy shortage. Perhaps even halting it completely."
"That's 'pessimist' for 'this idea is awesome'," Fefnir translates. "I realize this is Ciel we're talking about here, but was there anything off about what she was saying? Anything at all?"
"Not a thing," I answer with a head shake. "We all know the reason that she's part of the Resistance was because she couldn't stand seeing Reploids suffer. If anyone could seek out a solution without hesitating, it would be her."
"That's the gist I got. Just wanted to make sure it wasn't just me."
"Accept her offer..."
All three of us start at this strangely familiar voice, whirling around. Fefnir reflexively summons Sodom to his hand, but dismisses it when we see---
...! It couldn't be...!
It was. Floating behind us about a foot off the ground was somebody we hadn't seen in over a year. The last time we had seen him, he was getting ready to engage Zero, but now... "Master X!" we chorus, prostrating ourselves before him.
"Stand up," he instructs us. We follow that command: his body is distorted, wavering in and out of existence, but it's not hard to see that he's annoyed. "It is a long story and I have little time to spare, but I am not the one you believed you had been answering to. I am here because the Ciel System is the key to starting all in Neo Arcadia on the road to peace. You would do well to support its development."
Fefnir's looking hopeful, and I'm feeling the same way. Harpuia does raise a good question with his next words, though. "If you aren't Master X, then who are you? Do you have enough time to make things clearer for us?"
"The X we served was a copy?!"
I wince at the collective shout delivered from the entirety of Deep Sea Squadron, humans and Reploids alike united with one voice. Maybe packing everyone into the same chamber, no matter how big it was, was a bad idea. "That is what we just learned from a reliable source. The person who created him had good intentions, but ultimately things grew beyond her control and ours. In the end, it resulted in the current state of affairs." I point at a Reploid who has his hand raised. "Yes, HF-88?"
"Does this have anything to do with that explosion from Area X a year ago?"
I give the technician a brief overview of that scenario. Zero had invaded the administrative center of Neo Arcadia, forcing us Guardians to try to hold the line but ultimately failing. I keep quiet about how the incident forced me to acknowledge that I loved fighting him; no one knows about my and Fefnir's obsession, and I'm in no hurry to change that.
Another question, this one from a human supply administrator. If memory serves, he's one of those who keeps images of me at his workstation instead of his significant other. "If the real X has vanished and the copy is dead, who's currently in charge of Neo Arcadia?"
"The Eight Gentle Judges appointed Harpuia to act in his stead, a role he's held for the past year. Fefnir would have been a poor choice, and you know how I feel about sitting in a dusty throne room 24/7." I don't like having a dusty office either. Thank goodness they made it large enough to have its own swimming pool.
A wave of chuckles circulates through the crowd, and I let it pass before I continue speaking. "If there are no further questions, I would like to continue speaking. This morning, we received a package from Dr. Ciel of the Resistance." I jab the floor a few times with the Javelin, quieting the crowd when they start getting noisy again. "Eschew the rowdiness and let me finish. This device she sent us will be circulated among the squadrons so they can see it in action. If it sees a positive reception, Ciel will send Neo Arcadia the complete schematics for it and show us how to produce more."
I reach into a box next to me and pull out what on first glance seems to be a closed flower. After a moment, the flower opens up and hovers over my hand, humming softly. A wave of light washes over the chamber. I close my eyes for a second and savor the sensation of Energen filling my reserves; I'd engaged in an intensive duel against Harpuia an hour ago for this very purpose.
The humans are awed by the brilliant light, but the effect is much more pronounced on the Reploids in the audience. Those who had been looking weary perked up, their faces telling me that they're wondering why they're feeling full. "This is the Ciel System," I explain as the murmurs die down. "I will spare those of you who aren't as technologically savvy as your co-workers the full specifications, but she worked out a means of utilizing a Cyber-Elf's energy and a lone E-crystal to produce a great deal of power. Not only can Reploids sustain themselves on its luminesence, but just one of these can support power-hungry facilities for prolonged periods of time."
I smile as I see the rising hope in the faces of both races. Glad to see that the implications of this aren't lost on them. "And that leads me to make this announcement. None of you heard it from me, but there's going to be some serious changes to Neo Arcadia's laws in the near future..."
When the changes happened, they were swift.
The Ciel System was met with high marks from all of the city's major squadrons, prompting Harpuia to contact the Resistance and accept their offer. As the months went by, more and more of Neo Arcadia switched to this new power source until the entire city and its outlying facilities were fully integrated. The energy crisis that had marked Copy X's reign was finally over.
With that crisis went the segregation and poor treatment of Reploids. No longer are they discarded like trash whenever the slightest thing goes wrong, but they are starting to be treated more like the equals they are. In addition, I've been hearing reports of plenty of humans who have experienced epiphanies related to said treatment. Good; it means they've finally started thinking things over.
And with the factors responsible for its formation dealt with, there is no longer any need to be on our guard against the Resistance. Two days after the last of Neo Arcadia finished transitioning to the new system, Harpuia contacted them and "ordered" them to stand down and surrender (you can hear the quotes in my voice because it was really a polite request). Ciel accepted, on the grounds that those under her command received a fair trial.
The Eight Gentle Judges were remarkably skittish about that, strangely, but ultimately they relented in the face of Harpuia's displeasure. In the biggest trial Neo Arcadia had ever hosted, the Resistance as a whole was pardoned, barring a few die-hards whose vendettas with us were too personal for them to let go. In addition, with the reveal of the truth behind Neo Arcadia's rule being circulated--alongside the capture of that power-hungry fool Elpizo before he could instigate a disaster--Zero was exonerated, regaining his status as a hero.
The Resistance was repurposed as a support squadron of sorts, keeping an eye on the fringes of civilization and dealing with what Mavericks are still out there while under orders to call Neo Arcadia for backup. They also act as personal guards for Dr. Ciel, who maintains her laboratory at their base and continues seeking ways to assist both races as only she can.
I've met up with Zero a few times for duels since the trial. A time of peace hasn't made him lose his edge: no matter what tricks and tactics I try, he's always a level above me. He's even made it fairer by not using that accursed Fire Chip, and I've still not won a single fight against him. It's been the same for Fefnir and Harpuia, from what I hear. Frustrating, but it's what makes fighting him so fun.
It's been a year since we received the Ciel System prototype. As Zero shoulders the burden of combat and Maverick attacks reach an all-time low, the Guardians' focus has shifted. With our resources freed up, we have returned to repairing the damages caused by the wars of old. And with those unending tasks has come an opportunity to do something I thought I'd never have the chance to do...
-"Honoré? It's me. I realize you might still be upset at me for the stance I chose to take years ago, so you have every right to refuse... X in cyberspace, this is difficult for me to say, so I'll just come out and say it: I'd really like to be friends again. Please, if you have time to talk, contact me at the enclosed number."-
The human male, somewhere in his mid-to-late thirties in age, snorted disbelievingly and looked at the one who delivered the message disc. "I never expected one of that copy's lapdogs to willingly reduce himself to an errand boy. Leviathan couldn't take care of it herself?"
There was something about the snide tone coupled with the comment that got Fefnir laughing. "It might surprise you that she's the most socially awkward of us, sir," he said in-between chuckles. "Have you ever heard of the Valentine's Day affair?"
Honoré had. Leviathan had always been something of a symbol where the city's citizens were concerned, and each year people would send her countless packages of synthesized chocolates because of that symbolism... and because everyone decided to randomly forget that Reploids got no benefit from human foods. He never understood why they were so desperate to get her attention that they would disregard that fact.
One year, Leviathan got it into her head to try to return all of the chocolates that were sent to her. The whole thing was already hopeless, but somehow she thought that returning them in person instead of redirecting some mechaniloids or Pantheons to the task was a good idea. There were a few people that took her rejection in good humor while silently vowing to try again later...
...but those people were far outweighed by the ones who saw Leviathan at their doors with boxes of chocolate and took her presence as an admittance of love.
The Reality
"Sir or Missus, as much as I appreciate this token of your appreciation, I wouldn't be able to enjoy these in any way. Why don't you give these to your wife or husband?"
The Fantasy
"I am thrilled that you gave me these yummy chocolates! Please go on a date with me!"
The Conclusion
When it was all said and done, few could actually recall what transpired and Leviathan refused to discuss it in detail. But at the end of it, it became known as one of the few times that Copy X had passed any major edicts concerning humans, where previously his focus had been on Reploid affairs. "Any humans who harass my Guardians for arbitrary reasons will spend a week in prison and pay a minimal fine," he had gone on record as saying.
Every year after Valentine's Day like clockwork, the prisons became filled and the electronic coffers were replenished. When asked why they'd persisted despite the edict, most of their replies could be summarized as "worth it". Meanwhile, Leviathan had learned her lesson: what few boxes of chocolates that made it through security were given "anonymously" to the humans on her staff instead.
Honoré shook his head as he finished his recollection. "You would think that someone like her would be better at interacting with people. With that in mind, it's not so surprising that you're here."
"There's been fewer Maverick attacks, and Zero handles most of those," Fefnir happily remarked. "I was alright with doing this. I've had a lot of free time on my hands recently. Been spending most of it helping people directly and finding an actual life beyond fighting."
"And making amends for those Reploids that were killed in that Copy's name?"
Fefnir's expression turned solemn. "Yeah. That, too. None of us liked it, but Leviathan in particular took our late leader's true identity hard. When it finally sunk in that we were essentially killing our own kind for no reason, I had to physically restrain her from snapping that Javelin of hers in half. She kept muttering something about someone being 'right all along'."
"Probably me," Honoré said dryly. "We were friends once. I met her while the original reclamation programs were still underway."
"I remember those." Fefnir's tone was uncharacteristically wistful. "Good times."
"I appreciated the work she was doing back then, and I told her as much. We talked a while more, and agreed to stay in contact. Eventually our conversations turned from work to the more mundane matters of life, of the current struggles of humanity and Reploids alike... there was even a point in time when I legitimately considered asking her out." If only...
Fefnir's face soured. "And then the copy happened?"
"And then the copy happened." Honoré's eyebrows furrowed as he recalled that last conversation. "Our calls started taking a turn for the negative, to mirror the actions she was taking in support of him. I kept telling her that what was going on was wrong, but she wouldn't listen. One day I let my anger get the best of me and accused her of 'dancing to the tune of a madman'."
"Harsh, but true," Fefnir admitted, shrugging. "We all were."
"She made a half-hearted attempt at defending her actions by claiming she was bound to X's orders, and that they were intended for everyone's safety. That was the last straw. I yelled at her, saying that she was referring to the safety of humans specifically instead of both races. It was obvious to me that she wasn't going to change her mind, so I ended the call and set up my terminal to block any transmissions from her." Honoré shook his head, disgruntled. "Hasty, perhaps, but..."
"Well, we've all been trying to make things at least halfway right. Try at least giving her a call?" Fefnir suggested. Unknown to the human, he'd heard Leviathan's side of the story already. "You know, judge for yourself whether or not she's dancing to a different tune nowadays? I don't need to be an expert in these things to know it would mean a lot to her."
Honoré considered this. With the copy long gone and the situation having improved, the Guardians were under no obligation to follow his orders anymore. If anything, Harpuia had been doing a fine job as Neo Arcadia's head since the truth had come to light. Maybe it was time to give Leviathan a second chance. "Perhaps I will." He offered his hand, which Fefnir accepted and shook. "Thank you for delivering the message, sir."
Another interesting day.
Right after I'd asked Fefnir to run an errand for me, Harpuia asked me in turn to meet him at his office. From what I had surmised, Dr. Ciel had decided to drop another bombshell on us, and he wanted me on hand to listen to her presentation.
And boy, did she ever.
At some point, X had appeared to her and Zero the same way he had appeared to us. He'd disclosed to them what was in that tower at Neo Arcadia's center... or more accurately, who. Apparently, his original body is acting as the seal to the most powerful Cyber-Elf ever created. It had been the end goal of Elpizo's rebellion, and would have let him unleash disaster upon Neo Arcadia if he'd been successful in obtaining it. If Zero hadn't caught him before he could reach X's chamber...
Speaking of Mister Two Minus Two, Ciel dispatched him on a mission to a sunken library that we'd more or less forgotten about. He was able to retrieve information on what we now know is the Mother Elf... or rather the Dark Elf, the name change being due to her corruption by the long-exiled Dr. Weil (where is he, anyway?). Between that information, the research that had led to the end of the energy crisis, and several other factors, the good doctor now believes that she can undo the corruption and restore the Mother Elf to its original state. This in turn would remove the need for X's body to be used as the seal, allowing him to return from Cyberspace on a more permanent basis.
Though I'm able to temper my enthusiasm, I support her plan wholeheartedly. Do you think I'd pass up the chance to interact with the real X in the metal, as opposed to his copy? There are so many things I want to be able to talk to him about. The history of Reploid-kind, whoever it was that first built him, the state of the world prior to the Elf Wars...
...and most of all: why he seemed so sad and depressed the one time we interacted with him before his disappearance.
Harpuia's on board with it as well. We make arrangements to send a team to escort Ciel to the top of that tower. Several soldiers from her rechristened Sentry Squadron and a few combat Reploids---specifically Zero and someone named Craft---will be along for protection just in case. A journalist will also be on hand to document the procedure for the records.
And then my personal comm rings. I check who it is...
"Excuse me, but I need to take an important call, and this can't wait. Hope your ideas bear fruit, Dr. Ciel!" I blurt out, interrupting what Harpuia is saying to her. I take off running out of the room, hustling towards my on-site quarters where my personal terminal awaits.
...
...
"...Does anyone know why she left all of a sudden?" Ciel wondered after trading puzzled expressions with Zero. "She seemed anxious."
"Her behavior is decidedly unusual," Harpuia agreed after a moment's thought. "I've never known her to interrupt a meeting like this. But I'll ask her about it after our business here is finished. It didn't seem like it had anything to do with your new project."
My first conversation with Honoré in years has me feeling awkward.
It's common knowledge that I was in the wrong for siding with Copy X. Additionally, it's well-known that we've been trying to fix things as best as we can, even though for thousands of Reploids it's far too late to do the same for them.
So why in the world am I struggling to formulate such a simple sentence? What is it with pride that causes it to be such a detriment towards basic apologies?
At least Honoré seems to be feeling similarly. "Leviathan," he finally greets me, his expression neutral. "You seem to be doing well."
Say something, girl! "Honoré," I speak to him, eyes anywhere but the screen. "Um... you, too."
...Say something intelligent, girl!
Honoré saves me, though it's just a temporary respite. "How long has it been since we last talked? Close to a decade?" He gives a bitter huff. "I don't know anymore."
I bring myself to look at his image. He's gotten a few lines on his face since I'd last seen him, and his eyes have gotten harder. When we first met, he'd been fairly handsome, charming, and optimistic that the world was heading in a positive direction. The energy crisis and the years of putting up with Copy X's rule have gotten to him. "...You've... gotten older," I manage to say with some hesitation.
"That's the downside of being human," Honoré replies sardonically. "We start off young, but we don't stay that way. Meanwhile, you look as if you haven't aged a day."
Not for a lack of effort on Zero's part, given that he's seriously injured me in combat around ten times by now---focus, Leviathan, focus. "Honoré? Um... about what we talked about earlier. Is... is it too late for me to apologize? To admit that you were right all along?"
"Wait a few more years, and it might be." The bitterness in his chuckle isn't gone yet. "Unlike you, I've been getting older every day. Who knows? I might kick the bucket at any time."
I can feel my temper rising at that. "Aren't you supposed to be more supportive in this situation? If someone's struggling to make amends, you're not supposed to discourage them."
"You had all that self-confidence when you were working for the world's betterment," Honoré answers coolly. "Don't tell me you lost it all just because you let yourself be misled. If you're going to apologize, just apologize."
"I..."
There it is again. I know that it needs to be said, so why am I not saying it? "Well, I..."
Why?
"I'm... I..."
Just... WHY?!
Honoré doesn't say anything, instead just staying where he is. He isn't reaching for the terminal to end the transmission. All he's doing is... waiting.
But the words just don't want to make themselves heard! "Why is this simple act," I sigh angrily into my hand, "the most difficult thing to do in the world?"
"Apologies often are," Honoré admits, his voice softening. "Some have an easy time with it, but most often there's any number of things that get in the way. Take your time. I've waited years for an apology. I'll wait until I'm old and wrinkled if that's what it takes."
Easy for him to say. He's not the one stressing over it.
... It takes a second of realization for me to realize that I have both hands on my helmet, lifting it off my head. There's something about it that feels natural to do, which I immediately question. I don't think I've ever done it in all my life, so when...?
In any event, I set the helmet off to the side and go through the motions of taking a deep breath. I raise my head to meet Honoré's eyes; both of his eyebrows have lifted in what's probably surprise. "230 lives," I murmur. "230 Reploids that I killed who had done nothing inherently wrong, who were just trying to live. Yes, I killed them on that copy's orders, but that doesn't change the fact that I killed them. And yes, I've been trying to do what's right since the truth came out, but it's not going to reverse what I've done. It never will. Still... I feel I have to force myself to do this.
"I..." My voice chokes up without it meaning to. "You were the first human I'd met who was willing to talk to me as an equal, to see me as a friend. I might have done a good job of hiding it from others... from myself, even... but I missed being able to talk to you. I'm... I'm sorry, Honoré. I'm sorry for not listening to you, and for deliberately ignoring everything that said that I was wrong just because I didn't want to believe it. Please..." My hands slam down on the edge of the terminal. "I want to be able to talk to you like I used to. Just please don't shut me out again!"
...
A long moment of silence passes. At the end of it, Honoré gives me the sort of smile I'd been waiting to see from him for years. "I'm glad you sent General Fefnir to give me your message. He'd hinted that you had changed for the better."
Relief, like being able to sit down and rest after a strenuous workout. This is one of those times when I'm envious of humans: at least they have tears they can shed if they feel like having a good cry. "W-well, even he's right once in a while," I quip, rubbing my eyes on impulse. "Thank you for giving me this chance."
"Thank you for being brave enough to admit your mistakes," Honoré answers. "I don't know too many people in Neo Arcadia who are willing to go through that."
"That was the real difficult part. No matter what I told myself, the words didn't want to leave me."
"Whether it's the humblest of workers or the greatest of warriors, it happens to all of us." There's a hint of nervousness in his voice that I'm wondering about. "And speaking of difficult things to say, there's something that I want to talk to you about. It's something I wanted to say a long time ago, but that copy's rise to power and your change in attitude made it impossible for a while."
I clasp my hands on the terminal. "You were willing to hear me out. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't let you do the same thing. What do you need, Honoré?"
He sighs, then answers me with complete seriousness. "That's the thing. It's not something I feel I can talk about on an open channel. Do you have time on your schedule for an appointment?"
Hmm... it must be serious. Not terribly so, since his tone doesn't strike me as being particularly urgent, but serious all the same. I take a second to mentally check my schedule. "I'm going to be leaving to handle some cleanup along the continent's southern coast this afternoon, and that's going to take up most of my time for the next few days..."
I tap a quick sequence of buttons on the terminal, and some beeping is heard from Honoré's end of the transmission. "I just sent you a guest pass for the Deep Sea Squadron's main base, good for any areas that aren't off-limits to civilians. I'll be back there this coming Monday, and you can visit me anytime after 8:00a.m. That's the earliest I can make it."
Honoré nods. "That will work. I need to take care of some business of my own anyway, so I don't mind the wait. I'll see you then." He starts to reach for the button that'll end the transmission, but pauses and smiles at me once more. "And before I forget, Leviathan? It's good to see you doing what you do best again."
I think he's complimenting me...? I don't believe that he's poking holes in my combat ability; just because I keep losing to Zero doesn't mean that I'm a poor fighter. Cleaning the waters is important, and it's how we first met... yes, I know that's what he means now. "Thank you, Honoré. Take care. I'll see you Monday."
It took place while I was busy outside of Neo Arcadia, but after several hours of concentration and work, Ciel's theory was proven accurate. With some assistance from several programmers and X's Cyber-Elf form, she was able to undo the Dark Elf's corruption and set it free in every respect. I've been told that upon being released, the Mother Elf hovered over Ciel and Zero for a minute before phasing through the wall and disappearing. There have been no reports of its presence since then.
With no need for it to act as a seal anymore, there was nothing stopping X from returning to his body. And so it was that with everyone in the room as eyewitnesses, the greatest robot the world had ever known started to walk the earth once more.
"...It's a bit awkward speaking like this," X admits to me after I've returned from my assignment. That armor he's wearing now is a total throwback; I've never seen boots that big on a humanoid Reploid before. "The only time we ever talked, I wasn't in a good place mentally. Now I'm seeing with my own eyes how things have been progressing. I'm starting to believe that maybe someday, both races will be able to settle down peacefully in places other than Neo Arcadia."
"Speaking of, I'm guessing you have no real plans to reassume control of the city?" I inquire.
"None," X confirms adamantly. "I was tired of ruling and of fighting when I went under. I'm capable of them, but it's not my first choice by far. Harpuia's been doing a fine and dignified job on the leadership front, and Zero's already agreed to shoulder the burden of combat should it ever become necessary again. I feel my time's better spent regaining the empathy I lost during the Elf Wars. If I can avoid taking up those roles in the future, that would be wonderful. That old Reploid Andrew gave me some pretty good advice on that."
I've heard of him. Isn't he the one with a reputation for talking others' ears off? "I've been hearing rumors that Zero's recovered the rest of his memories. Any truth to that?"
"Some of them, but not all. At the least, he remembers what times were like before the wars." A melancholy visage briefly replaces his normal one. "When I talked to him yesterday, he asked me if I'd ever crossed paths with someone named 'Iris' while I was in Cyberspace."
I can't say I've heard that name before. A late friend of his? I'll have to ask Zero about it later when I'm trying to skewer him. "How about Phantom? Did you see him?"
"Once or twice," X says with the ghost of a smile. Fitting. "He sends his regards, and wishes the three of you the best. Though now that you mention him---"
An electronic chime goes off, and I hum a little in surprise upon confirming the time. "That was quick. I know I told him I'd be here after 8:00a.m., but I didn't think he'd show up right on the dot," I comment, getting out of my seat.
"Do you want me to leave? If it's business-related, I can always come back later," X suggests.
"It probably isn't too serious," I tell him. "My contact's civilian, not military. This shouldn't take long." I face the door and call for Honoré to enter.
The door slides open, and he steps into the office. He starts to greet me, but does a double-take when he sees X. "Oh! Master X! I wasn't expecting to see you here!"
"Just 'X'," the former leader corrects him as the door closes. "I'd rather people didn't call me 'Master' anymore. It makes me uncomfortable."
"Heh. I suppose that's fair." The two of them shake hands. "I'm Honoré. I work for a window manufacturing company, and I'm an off-and-on friend of Leviathan's."
"To elaborate, we were friends for a little while before your Copy took power," I explain to X. "I've only been able to make amends with him recently."
X's smile broadens, though only by a hair. "It's always good to see you and the others making friends, Levi."
Honoré's left eyebrow raises to mirror my right. "'Levi'? Where'd that come from?" I ask. Part of me wonders why that shortened form of my name is familiar.
"What? A father isn't allowed to give nice nicknames to his children?"
My mouth falls open. Did he actually say that where others could hear?! "X, why in the world---?!"
Honoré takes a few seconds to process this information, and he still sounds like he's having trouble when he speaks. "You're... related?"
"In a way," X confesses. "The Guardians were created using my DNA. That's about as close as I can get towards having children of my own."
Honoré scratches the back of his head... with some trepidation? "Well. This is going to make things awkward. I was under the impression she didn't have any parental figures. Or at least none that were still alive."
What is he... oh. "Honoré. What important issue did you want to talk to me about?" I request of him, trying to hide the quaver that's developed in my voice.
Honoré turns away from X to face me directly. He's sounding just as serious as he was when I was trying to apologize to him. "As I told you last week, I've been wanting to ask you about this for a long time. Now that the Copy is gone, the crisis is over, the situation is looking up and you've proven that you're trying to redeem yourself, I can do that. Though as long as there's an actual parent present..." He swallows nervously, then shifts towards X. "Sir? If it's allowed, may I have your permission to start dating your daughter?"
...
!!!
"What..."
...
!!!
"Wha-ha-haaat..."
...
!!!
"Whaaaaat?... Ha... ha ha... kyahahaha---"
Comprehension error. System error.
Feedback loop identified. Attempting to purge... successful. Rebooting...
Honoré and X watched as Leviathan froze up, her very disbelieving laugh cut off in the middle. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell to her knees. It was only because of the both of them that she didn't collapse entirely.
Worried---not just for Leviathan, but for himself---Honoré looked at X to see what he thought of the situation while they carried her to her seat. "I didn't say something I shouldn't have, did I? Nothing that would be considered scandalous?"
"You're fine," X assured him, to his surprise and relief. "And provided you do your best to keep her happy, yes. You can. I expect to remain in Neo Arcadia for the forseeable future, so you're welcome to come to me if you have any questions."
I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be hopeful, X thought, his smile broader within than it was without. He heard Honoré express his gratitude, but didn't respond with anything more than a nod. If the relationship between the two races has reached this point, I think I like my chances of regaining my empathy.
Though if he does anything to make her upset, I'm going to have words with him regardless.
Her answer when she woke up and got over her surprise was quiet, subdued... yet affirming. It was a slow start, but it would gradually pick up speed as time went on.
As their relationship progressed, they continued to hammer out the details of their continued co-existence. There would be stretches where she would need to be away from Neo Arcadia to do the work with which she had gotten his attention. In light of her mechanical existence and his age, having children was out of the question, unless they wanted to have one commissioned from a team of specialists. There was also the matter of Leviathan far outliving Honoré, barring an unprecedented disaster of some type: humans simply did not have the longevity of Reploids.
All the same, he was willing to try. As the months passed, it eventually sunk in just how much he wanted to be together with her for the rest of his life... and she, who had entertained the notion to keep her first friend happy, grew to feel the same.
Roughly three years after they had reconciled, as representatives from the Deep Sea Squadron, Honoré's businessplace, and Sentry Squadron applauded (except for Zero, who just nodded and watched from afar while in his role as part of the security detail)... as Harpuia and Fefnir respectively clapped and cheered... as X gave his only daughter away... and as the unseen Phantom observed the ceremony from Cyberspace... three words set themselves upon the loving pair's hearts:
Forever and always.
Everyone was working as hard as they could, but the recovery process could only go so quickly. Still, in time, the damage the world had suffered had mended enough for new towns and outposts to take shape. The first few were within five to ten miles of Neo Arcadia's borders, but it was still a start.
The Guardians took a dedicated team of researchers and developers out to Area Zero to see what they could learn from what was the world's sole remaining natural reserve. The team took what they had discovered out into the world, and over time the global landscape began to look steadily prettier.
As civilization spread, archaeology went with it. Two separate teams on different continents discovered the remains of robots that looked nothing like the Reploids and mechaniloids of the modern age. The first, upon being shown to X, was immediately recognized as a former Maverick Hunter by the name of Axl; what was left of him was taken to Neo Arcadia to be given a proper sendoff worthy of his status.
The other was more difficult to recognize due to there being even less left of it, but after some heavy thinking, it finally clicked in X's mind. Afterwards, replicas of a broken and battered red-white helmet (complete with shades) and oval-shaped shield held a place of honor in one of Neo Arcadia's robotics museums. Next to them was a holographic model of what they believed the world's first truly sentient robot must have looked like. Leviathan thought the scarf was a nice touch.
...
The world continued to change, at times slowly, other times quickly and drastically. Over two hundred and thirty years following Copy X's destruction, despite additional problems that required either heroes or ingenuity, it could safely be said that the world was thriving again. Some said that if satellite images of the world were shown to people of the past, they would have had trouble recognizing their own home.
And one by one, the legends of old faded away until there were only two left. One of them disappeared from the public eye almost entirely, content to follow in the footsteps of his older brother and live a simple life as a lab assistant.
The other...
A half-hour's drive from where both the husbands she'd had during her life were asleep forever, the Reploid once known as the Siren General sat down on a lonely beach. Her eyes watched the waves of the Atlantic move to and fro across a shoreline, one of many that she'd had a hand in cleaning a long time ago. She was satisfied with everything in her life, despite the rough patches throughout. She had earned her peace.
A flock of Gullwaves---mechaniloids built to resemble and mimic the seagulls of old---flew far overhead, going about their business. Their calls reached her, and for a fleeting moment she felt melancholic.
She shifted positions bit by bit until she was resting against the sand, scanning the sky and idly noting the few clouds overhead. That one up there looks like a man with a very puffy beard, she thought. Didn't X once say his creator had a beard like that?...
One by one, her systems deactivated. Feeling herself losing strength, she smiled as her eyes slid closed. Took long enough. I hope you don't think you're safe in Cyberspace, Zero. You can't get out of dueling me that easily.
Her CPU shut off, and all was darkness.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
System Reboot Initiated.
4%... 17%... 37%... 54%... 80%... ... ... 100%.
Diagnostics Scan Initiated... ... Complete.
Current Power Output:73% of 100%.
Energen Levels:77%. Reserves: 0%.
Structural Integrity:100%.
Auto-Repair Systems:100%.
Armor Integrity:Unavailable. Unable to complete scan.
Motor Control:100%.
Dash Thrusters:Unavailable. Unable to complete scan.
Coolant Levels:100%.
Combat Capabilities: 60%. Mental state compromised. Armaments compromised. Unable to complete scan.
Ice Manipulation:100%.
Frost Javelin:ALERT - Weapon not found.
Armed Phenomenon: 100%.
Variable Weapons System:100%.
Recommended Course of Action: Unit is not combat ready. Change that post-haste.
...
The first thing I do upon waking up is to put my hand clear through a wall.
My surroundings aren't registering, and I'm ignoring the messages appearing in my HUD. I've got other things on my mind.
My hand withdraws from the wall. I bring it up to my face, looking at the fabric surrounding it but seeing something past it.
I remember it all so clearly. A world without Dr. Weil and Omega. The end of the energy crisis. The gradual reversal of the world from the wasteland it had been. My restored friendship with Honoré, and the inexplicable joy of being with him for the rest of his life. The true X's return. Many other things that would take too long for me to recount. Two hundred and thirty one years of life lived from the time Dr. Ciel approached us with that prototype before my systems finally failed for good. My heart is telling me that this is the life I've lived, and I long to return to it.
And yet at the forefront of things are what my banks are telling me are my most recent memories. Interacting with a talking pony on a rooftop, which my systems are telling me was seven hours ago. Escorting two more to... an apartment building, or starting to. My system clock claims it's the middle of the night, when my CPU's deactivation allegedly happened in the early morning.
231 years... in the span of 7 hours.
It's all coming back to me.
None of it ever happened. Neo Arcadia is still imperiled. X is deep in Cyberspace, never to surface again. Dr. Weil is a serious threat. I am still unwanted where Honoré is concerned. I am the only one of my kind in a world of sapient quadrupeds.
This is real. This isn't fiction, this isn't fantasy. This is real...
In an unknown building within Manehattan, Leviathan--the Siren General of Neo Arcadia, one of the four Guardians, a fierce opponent of Zero, one of the legendary X's unofficial "children", and a self-confident warrior who rarely let herself show any serious weakness--pulled her legs up to her chest, buried her head in her knees, and let loose her overwhelming grief at the loss of a world that had never existed.
...
...
Across Manehattan, Illudere's eyes snapped open as she was roused out of an unsound sleep. Her lips parted in a snarl, red smeared itself across her eyes, and her quiet voice hissed in disbelief and mad fury.
...Leviathan had been found by Limefrost Spiral instead of Ebony Evening?
"...and so I said to him, 'but suppose it's actually thirty bits, not forty? If the same product is available at a lower price than their competitor's, why not go for it?"
Plus side: I'm alive, and my body's well on its way to repairing itself.
"And he tells me: 'No, you need the maroon-colored paint, not the pink. They're entirely different colors.' And I tell him, 'look, I have eyes, I can tell the difference for myself!'"
Minus side: I have never met anyone who goes on and on about nothing at all like this addle-brained airhead.
"I've always hated the color 'puce'. To me that just sounds too much like somepony throwing up. Like, did somepony eat something they hated, get sick, and then start thinking 'hey, that would be a good name for a color'?"
I should be looking for a way home. Why am I staying with this simpleton again?
...Oh, right: because Limefrost promised me shelter, enough bits to keep me fed with those Energen-esque candies, and that rooftop swimming pool of hers in exchange for assisting her in her job. I'm hoping that homeless pony I met is able to get me in contact with their Princess soon, or else I think I'm going to go insane.
"Your face just twitched. Hold still! ... So that suit isn't quite white, just a shade or two towards blue. ... Did you hear about the Midnight Castles ransacking that Burning Theater, or whatever it is it's called? Crazy, right? Celestia, I hope they don't try to steal from me."
A valid concern, yes, but could you please be quiet? I wonder if I could shut myself off without my eyes closing.
"You're the best conversationalist I've ever met. Some ponies are like 'blah, blah, blah' and they won't stop for anything short of a buck to the face, but you've been letting me speak my mind this whole time. Still, if you have something to say, you shouldn't be afraid to say it. ... Ugh, I feel so fat. Maybe I shouldn't be drowning my sorrows in ice cream so often... but it's just so delicious!..."
My urge to just ditch her and find another patron is rising. No swimming pool, regardless of the size, is worth listening to this.
Limefrost finally backs away from her canvas. "Alright, that will do it," she says after a few moments of glorious silence, having looked over her work. "Give it a day for the paint to dry, and I can frame this and take it to be sold."
"So I can get up now?"
"Sure, sure." She walks off towards another room. "Lemme get cleaned up and we can hit the fashion district. I'm not going to be seen in public with you if you're looking like my dear old departed mother!"
Part of me wants to take offense to that. The part that wins out is the one that feels sympathetic. "Your mother's dead?"
"Nope. She just departed," Limefrost states, shutting the door behind her.
"..." Never mind. Enough issues to fill a volume, that one. I get up and start to head outside, passing the newly-finished portrait of myself on my way out. My frame's still damaged, so I can't swim just yet, but I can least take comfort in the presence of water while I wait.
...Huh. That portrait's perfect. What do you know? I guess if nothing else, she is an excellent artist.
...First Quarter had never been traumatized by Omega?
Two ponies sat in a private lounge at the top of Mocha HQ. The smaller of them sipped at a glass of chocolate milk, reveling at the feeling of being young again after decades of being old. The larger of them hoofed through several pages of reports as he summarized them for his boss.
"...the latest report from Agent #7 in Ponyville, he believes that his former queen and her hive will be moving on Canterlot within the next two to three years," Ignition was saying. "Once he's confirmed that they're ready to launch their attack, he wants to stay in Manehattan until the situation blows over."
"Grant his request," Quarter decided. "I didn't steal him from Chrysalis just for her to yank him back into the fray. Make sure that a suite is ready for him in the event that the worst happens."
Ignition made a note of that for the records. "Next on the agenda: the matter of the wayward robot."
Quarter considered this. If the so-called Siren General had any brains, she would have tried to get in contact with Celestia as soon as she could. The nation's best and brightest when it came to magic were all situated in Canterlot. "Has a letter been sent to Leviathan?"
"Yes. It was crafted and sent within two days of the Minutes' special edition being circulated. She never responded."
She shrugged. "I knew it was a long shot when I asked." She probably just saw it as another piece of junk mail and threw it out. "With this in mind, launching our coup would direct her attention towards us. If her claims are correct, then we don't need a high-caliber warrior interfering with our plans at the worst time. Assign Agent #1 to keep an eye on her from afar. If she goes to Canterlot, activate our agent there and have her do the same."
I would like to have her gone as soon as possible, but there's nothing we can do to rush it, Quarter mused, massaging her forehead. She's done nothing inherently wrong just by being here, and as far as we can tell she's not causing anypony problems. Loyalty and a desire to do what's right are things I can understand. It should be safe to just leave her alone until the time comes. If she's still around when we make our move against Celestia in three years time, we should be fully equipped to deal with her by then.
"On a related note, what of Agents #8 and #9?" Ignition asked. "Leviathan was the one who captured them."
"They bit off more than they could chew trying to pull off that heist at the Pyre of Fears," Quarter decided. "They can stew in prison for a while. Keep track of the court proceedings and make a note of where they will be sent to serve their sentences. We'll be able to break them out anyplace aside from Tartarus, so we will plan to do so when it becomes necessary."
A spike of pain lanced through Quarter's senses as she finished speaking. She cringed and hunkered down, waiting for the pain to reach more tolerable levels. Ignition frowned, but--perhaps remembering that Quarter didn't like receiving help unless she asked for it--remained where he was.
I'm hoping that specialist can deal with this, she thought for the sixteenth time. I do not need this messing with my mind.
As she sat up again, she wondered what it would be like to face Leviathan in combat. It has been a long time since I've had a good fight. Would she be interested in a duel? After this illness is well and truly gone, I'll have to drop in on the Pyre sometime...
...
...
who... ...am...
...where...
...Car... rie... sis... ...ter...
...
...
...
As Quarter and Caramel met with their specialist to determine how to deal with the former's health issues, Hazelnut was left with nothing to anchor herself in reality. The last of her strength gave way, and she joined her grandfather and ancestors in the void's gentle embrace, never to surface again.
One year later...
...
Ignition was able to keep himself from jumping as the door to his office slammed open. He raised an eyebrow as Quarter took a seat in front of his desk. "Welcome back, young lady. How was your trip to Canterlot?"
Quarter shook her head, partway between disturbed and haunted. "Terrible. The worst case scenario is active, Ignition."
"You mean..."
"Yes. I do. I learned some things that I wish I'd discovered a long time ago. It would have saved me a lot of time and energy." She climbed into a chair and leaned on Ignition's desk, wanting to make sure he understood how important this was. "I hope you're prepared to be busy for a while. Shut down the R&D department and downsize them with full severance pay. Destroy all of the evidence of their work as you see fit. Scatter the Crown Jewels to the winds. Finally, send a message to all of our agents."
Ignition hid his suprise admirably. "And the content of that message?"
"Let them know," Quarter said through gritted teeth, "that the coup against Celestia has been cancelled due to extenuating circumstances."
Twilight Sparkle had not been kept in the dark?
"...I'm sorry to bother you when you're busy. There's just one thing I want to ask, Celestia: THERE'S A LIVING MACHINE?!"
Celestia winced at the volume. She'd almost forgotten how cacophonic Twilight could get when she was overly excited. Part of her wished that she'd brought sunglasses, if only to protect her eyes from the glare off Twilight's teeth. "You've read the special edition, I'm assuming?"
"Five times," the nearby Spike brought up. "I kept track."
She knew she'd have to curtail this quickly. "Twilight, I realize that the thought of a sapient machine is an impossibility, but try to control yourself. We don't need your exuberance making matters more difficult."
"But how?!" Twilight looked like she was a few wrong words away from pulling her mane out by its roots. "How in the world did somepony find a way to give a machine the ability to make all of its own decisions without magic?! Everything about that flies in the face of rationality!"
"Twilight Sparkle."
Thankfully, Twilight had enough sense in her to cut herself off at the sound of a full-name ultimatum. "...Yes?"
Satisfied that the tone of her voice had gotten through to her, Celestia spoke more calmly. "I recognize and admire your aptitude for learning, Twilight. But I shouldn't have to remind you that you have a tendency to go a bit... overboard. Suppose that Leviathan visited the castle on business. How would you react?"
Twilight sunk down onto her haunches. "...Oh. Right. Eh-heh..."
"Try to remember that she's a living, thinking being. If she wants to talk about how she works, that's her choice to make. We can't force her to do anything."
"I'm sorry..." Twilight raised her head, making eye contact with her mentor. Her tone became more contrite. "But... you see what I'm getting at, right?"
Celestia smiled reassuringly. "Believe me, I do. I was just as surprised as you were when I read that newspaper. Now, I believe you have a project to attend to?"
...
Spike watched as Twilight left the throne room to return to her studies. He started to follow her, but stopped and looked back at Celestia. "What was that term I heard Lemon Hearts use... right. She's totally going to 'fangirl' out, isn't she?"
"Something I've noticed across my life, Spike, is that sometimes ponies need to be taught the same lesson multiple times before any improvement is seen. Would you tell her that if she promises to be on her best behavior, she can come with me the next time I have an occasion to visit Manehattan?"
"Sure," Spike said agreeably, hurrying to catch up to Twilight. "See you later, Princess!"
Celestia returned to her throne as Spike left. For about three minutes until it was interrupted by the business of rulership, she enjoyed her peace as she contemplated what the first meeting between Twilight and the Reploid would be like.
Most of those who saw the sight kept on going. It was strange, but it was hardly unusual in Manehattan. Even a few who normally would've gotten excited at the sight of their Princess decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
Leviathan and the unicorn accompanying her--the latter of whom had just cast a spell, if her glowing horn was any proof--took a long step away. Celestia felt a bead of sweat drift down past her right eye. The guards who were with her were confused. Spike's face was contorted in the way you would use if you wanted to convey "Huh?" non-verbally.
Twilight, meanwhile, continued hugging the streetlamp and chattering at it with great enthusiasm.
"I beg your forgiveness, Princess," Leviathan's companion greeted Celestia, bowing. "Given what you said about your student in your letter to us, we decided... maybe not start an incident by letting her glomp Levi?"
"Your species is big on physical contact." Leviathan glared sideways at the illusionist--who blushed in response--before her eyes reoriented on Celestia. "Thanks for the advance warning, by the way."
Spike shook his head, getting over it. "Well, you have to admit," he remarked to Celestia, shrugging, "that was one of her better behaviors."
Indeed. This was certainly about what I expected.
...Leviathan had landed on the Equestria Girls side of the mirror instead?
It's been a few days since I fell into this strange world full of colorful humans.
They were my first and biggest indicator that this world was not my own. The second was the landscape: so many nice-looking homes, and so much green. I've known people back home that would have killed to have this level of foliage, all of it thriving without mechanical aid. The third was the technology level: not a robot in sight.
Fourth: I found out last night that while this world is also called 'Earth', its geography and history couldn't be more different from the world I call home. What little I've read of it could qualify for a doorstopper's worth of analysis, so I will spare you the torment of trying to digest it all.
My arrival here was chaotic, though not entirely because of me. I'd woken up near a horse statue, of all things... just being in its presence felt strangely rejuvenating. There was a loud ruckus nearby, I'd went to investigate... and was struck in the face by a sledgehammer wielded by someone who didn't know what she was doing.
Yes, it happened. And yes, it hurt, but I've taken worse hits from Fefnir. Imagine what that would've done to someone who wasn't made of metal at your own risk.
The mortified reaction of the person who did it told me that it was entirely accidental, but I became an afterthought in the wake of the confrontation that followed. By the time it was finished, my mind was short-circuiting because I discovered that magic was a thing that existed in this world (sort of, though it didn't last), humans are capable of drastic transformations, there were large holes in the nearby school and the path leading up to it, and the perpetrator was really a unicorn in a human guise.
I chuckle at the thought of it. I don't think I can take Pegasolta Eclair seriously anymore with this mental image.
There wasn't anything I could do to hide my robotic nature. There was a group of eyewitnesses who had seen me get hit by the sledgehammer, something you don't just shrug off as a normal human. Seeing my present condition (curse you, Omega), one of the more technologically-minded students offered to try and fix me; in the end there wasn't much he could do aside from cleansing my frame and skeleton of debris and patching up that rent in my side, but I suppose it's the thought that counts. At least my auto-repair's still working, so I should be at full strength in a few weeks.
Now, the statue... it's an anomaly, plain and simply put. This world doesn't have Energen, so I should normally be living on borrowed time. If I stand within a few meters of the statue, however, my levels stabilize and slowly increase. The young lady whose home I'm staying at has told me that it might have something to do with the statue being a part-time magic portal, but I don't know how much of that I believe.
...Though before today, I never believed that there was such a thing as naturally occurring prismatic hair, either. What kind of genetics were spliced together to create that?
Even the naming conventions of this word are off to me. I've never known anyone back home to have names as colorful and borderline grandiose as they possess here. Celestia, Luna, Photo Finish, Rainbow Dash, Bulk Biceps, Pinkie Pie, Micro Chips... and those are just the ones I directly interacted with after the initial ruckus ran its course. Am I really alive, or am I experiencing some sort of dying dream where everything has been turned upside down?
Hold that thought. My "landlord", for the lack of a better term, has just gotten home. "Welcome back, Sunset," I call out to her from the stairs to her loft.
"Hi, Fairy," the orange-tinted adolescent greets me, just as downcast as she's been since the whole 'she-demon' thing. Girl looks exhausted; I would be too, if I was forced to cart away debris for hours on end. I notice that her hands are bandaged and taped. "Any luck?"
"None." I gesture at the laptop she owns. Quaint little device. "I spent most of the day doing what research I could. There's nothing that so much as hints at a path home." Same as yesterday. I'm starting to feel somewhat discouraged. "How was your day?"
"Vice-Principal Luna decided to cut me a bit of slack." Sunset trudges up the stairs as she talks, dropping her schoolbag on her bed. "The rebuilding's been turned over to the local construction companies. Though that's only because the three of us finally have the debris cleared away... ...huh."
"Something wrong?" I ask without looking up.
"Looks nicer up here... did you do some cleaning while I was out?"
I shrug. "Call me a neat freak if you want, but I don't like dust. I left the rags in the bathroom."
"Thanks." I move as far to the left as I can, making some space for her to sit down next to me on the stairs. "I'm sorry. I just haven't been in the mood for cleaning right now."
"And I imagine having an otherworldly visitor dropped on you didn't help your situation either," I remark. "I'll try to be out as soon as I can, I promise."
"Hn."
There's an uncomfortable silence settling in. The things that Sunset did a few days ago would've had her tried in court back home and earned her a life sentence at best. After getting blasted by that mind-boggling energy wave and surviving, she experienced some kind of epiphany and was given a second chance by the visiting royalty. Even with that, I'm not sure what I think of her at the moment.
I want to say that her turn away from destruction is genuine, if the late-night crying I heard earlier was any proof. At the same time, I find it difficult to have anything more than short conversations with her. She's no threat without that crown she was trying to steal, but the part of me that's a warrior is telling me to stay on guard.
Sunset yawns and sighs, massaging her forehead. "A few days ago, General, things were a lot simpler. I was on track for the crown. Nothing and no one was going to stop me. And then everything terrible that I'd done smashed into me all at once, and I realized... forget an uphill climb---this is a mountain I'm facing here."
"A lot of what happened is still lost on me," I tell her, "but I think that princess said something about 'the magic of friendship'?"
She shakes her head. "Yeah. Apparently that's a thing." She groans in dejection. "I'm a selfish, scheming little witch, Fairy." Did she mean to say something else there, or was that intentional? "I'm trying to wrap my mind around it all, but I just can't take it. I've been without friends all of my life! I spent years outright ruining friendships, for crying out loud! How am I expected to start making them now?"
The topic had been brought up once already after that magic wave had cured her, but I excuse the repetition on account of her tiredness. Her words take me away, leading back to another universe and a nice young man I haven't spoken to in ages. "If it's any consolation, Miss Shimmer, I think I can understand how you feel."
That look of hers can't be mistaken for anything other than surprise. "Really?"
...
I spend the next ten minutes telling her about Honoré and the mistakes I made while interacting with him, as well as going into my background in a bit more detail. I don't mean to show any of it, but my regrets are turning up loud and clear with these interactions.
At the end of it, Sunset breathes in sharply and gives me an odd look. It's not one that's insulting, or upset, or confused, anything like that. Just... odd. "You're the same as me."
...Put it that way... "Carried out tasks to someone else's detriment, only recently recognized the seriousness of those actions... I see what you're getting at."
"I sought power because I wanted to prove to Princess Celestia that I was worthy of becoming an alicorn..."
"...and I willingly carried out that copy's orders because I wanted to believe he knew what he was doing."
"Both of us ruined lives in our own ways because of our mindsets..." Sunset's eyes shift towards the floor. She's beginning to sound more distressed. "Why am I thinking that if our roles were switched, I would have done the same as you?"
I'm finding it a bit difficult to picture myself as a student of royalty turned student of the masses, but aside from that... "If someone like those six had spelled it out for me in a way that I couldn't deny, I would've taken it just as hard. I would've begun questioning my loyalty and actions. Quite possibly even rebelled." I use that phrasing because I can't imagine Phantom or the real X delivering a speech on 'the magic of friendship', no matter how many scenarios I run.
"I've never had friends..."
"...and I lost the only one I had."
Another silence, though this one is a bit less uncomfortable. I never expected to find common ground in a place like this. As strange as it may be for me to say this, I do feel a little bit better.
The peace and quiet has come to an end: there's knocking at the door. "Sunseeettt! Leeeeviiii!" an obnoxiously high-pitched voice calls out. I recognize it as belonging to one of those I spoke to after Sunset's defeat. "Come on out here! I've got cake, and I promise it's telling the truth!"
Sunset stands up... then with some trepidation, she holds out her hand. I accept it, pulling myself to my feet. "I guess we'll be finding out more about this 'friendship' deal together, then," I tell her.
"You're willing to stay?"
"Barring a sudden scientific discovery, I'm here for the long haul. I've got nothing better to do with my time." There are worse things I could be doing. And if there's really nothing that can help me get home, then I have no choice but to trust that Zero can set things right for Neo Arcadia somehow. If he's anything at all, he's a survivor.
Hmm... I realized just now what was behind the look this child was giving me after I'd told my story: it was genuine empathy. Maybe there's hope for her.
And as we walk towards the door, she comes to a realization of her own and reacts accordingly. It's a small one, but this is the first real smile I've seen from Sunset since I got here.
...
It's while Pinkie, her friends, and Sunset are chowing down on cake that a question pops into my mind. It has nothing to do with how serious the earlier discussion was, but it has to be asked. If I'm going to be staying here, no point in doing it halfway. "For future reference, are there any public swimming pools around here?"
"Agent #5, this spell we have on file for you. This... Luminous Cruelty. Disguise yourself to make the Siren General drop her guard, get in close, and then use it on her."
"Squealin'! I thought you would never ask!"
"Luminous Cruelty? That's ominous. What does that spell do?"
"According to #5 herself, it's 'the worst pain one can suffer without experiencing harm'. This was the spell that convinced those rehabilitating her that she was beyond help: the pony she used it on fell comatose immediately, and only remains alive to this day on account of life support. If hidden safely away, Leviathan will lack that same support for herself: she will die inside a month and disappear from the public eye, her whereabouts unknown."
"Any reason why we can't just kill her sooner? Seriously: stab. Boom. Done."
"Did you learn nothing from the report on her arrival, Agent #9? The mechanics of how she arrived here are still unknown: if she dies violently, there is no guarantee that your armor will protect you from the explosion. Best case scenario, you could end up in a strange land much like she did. Worst case scenario, you would die along with her. No. Agent #5 will stash Leviathan out of sight within our most secure safe house until it can be confirmed that she has passed away quietly. Following this, she will be taken apart and her pieces studied to help advance our magitech." A moment of silence as what was said sunk in. "Agent #7?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Alter your disguise and attend one of the matinees at the Pyre of Fears. Locate a safe place to hide one of our radios. Leviathan and Gray Ghost will likely reconvene there following the trial for Agents #8 and #9's underlings. With any luck, our eavesdropping will unearth the Ghost's home in short order, without any need for additional reconnaissance."
"Sounds easy enough, sir. I'll do it."
"Finally, to all of you: another joint operation. This will ensure that the Ghost will never be in a position to threaten us later..."
The poor pony working the evening shift at the MRPD's front desk had no idea what had just happened.
One moment, he had been working on a few pieces of paperwork while keeping an eye on the front doors for any potential visitors. The next second, there was a pegasus hunkered down on his desk. He shrieked, his voice hitting an unusually high pitch as he fell over backwards. A half dozen other officers and staffers, attracted by his scream, rushed into the front lobby to investigate.
The pegasus's tail was lashing about like mad, whipping the air so quickly that at least one pony thought it could generate a windstorm on its own. Her eyes were 95% irises and pupils with just a hint of white around the edges, and they bored straight into his own with a cold ferocity. Her ears were laid back as flat as they could get, and most of her coat was unnaturally puffy.
In a word, she was peeved.
"Miss, calm yourself down," one of his co-workers called out. "What's the situation?"
"I would like to report a kidnapping," Gray hissed, words dripping with venom. "One unicorn, one pegasus, and three earth ponies. My family."
The former S.M.I.L.E. agent had come clean to her family on that aspect of her past, instructing them not to tell anyone---with that word emphasized by a warning hiss that promised permanent groundings to her children ("you will not remember why you're being punished, but you will admit in your hearts that you deserved it") and an immediate separation from her husband if word of the group's existence spread because of them. It pained her deeply to say those things to them, but she went through with it. Thankfully they understood the seriousness of the situation even if other things still escaped them (Zig-Zag notably had to have things dumbed down for him some), and they promised not to breathe a word of it to anyone.
As she had stated in her heart previously, being forced to choose between her loyalty to Equestria and her devotion to her family was nightmarish. You have no idea how much it hurts to make me say those things, Celestia. Please don't make me do it again.
After their discussion, the family had gone out to dinner; the griffon that Gray had unexpectedly impressed when she was a rookie had long since opened his own restaurant, and she wanted to take advantage of the dinner deal he'd been offering customers that week. Most of them had filled up on vegetable pizza (while Gray, as she tended to, had hers with a meat substitute) before going home.
It was when they were walking down the hallway towards their apartment that they found themselves overtaken. For reasons she didn't understand, Ocean Guard and Ebony stopped in their tracks, shivered violently, and fainted dead away--quickly inducing surprise and panic.
When she and the others tried to rouse them, Gray and Energy found a pack of dogs barreling down the hall after them, barking loudly. Gray managed to keep from fleeing long enough to realize that they had no scent, but her son didn't know what to look for, kept running, and found himself ensnared in somepony's telekinesis. A washcloth was jammed into his mouth, preventing him from raising a ruckus.
As the illusion faded, Gray realized that they were being attacked. A tiny dart flew towards her neck, but she saw it coming and swatted it out of the air--and in that moment of distraction, Fiver and Zig-Zag found themselves yanked off the ground. Crying out fearfully, she charged at the nondescript figures who were carrying them off, only to put on the brakes before she could run into the business end of a spear. A glimmering blue energy shield taller than she was blocked off the hallway, keeping her from progressing further.
As her anger and frustration rose, the air shimmered: first there was nothing, then there was a stallion covered entirely in dark green scaly armor. She realized that the energy shield was being maintained by a similarly armored pony next to him. "We require your family, Gray Ghost," the larger one rumbled, his voice tinny on account of his helmet. "Surrender yourself to us at the alley behind the Crystaller Building by noon tomorrow, and they will be released unharmed. If you do not, I can guarantee you will not see them again."
Screaming in equal parts equine and feline fury, Gray bolted towards the energy shield with the intent of either flying through it or over it---she wasn't sure which, as she hadn't thought that far ahead. Before she reached it, something squeezed through the gap between the shield and the ceiling: an Equish Mastiff, this one very much real, landing in front of her. The dog bared its teeth and growled, and Gray's heart temporarily seized in the face of her lifelong fear as she recoiled from it.
The dog remained where it was, blocking her path as the abductors absconded with her family. As soon as they were gone, its features... softened? "Dreadfully sorry about all of this, Missus," it spoke regretfully, catching her off-guard with its speech before it turned and followed the group down the fire escape.
Several doors on the floor opened, admitting residents of the building who had been attracted by the noise. A few more charged into the hallway from the floors above and below---all of them far too late to be of any help, even if they were in a position to. "What's going on in here?" one of them asked, more irritated at being disturbed than worried about anything. "What's all this racket? Why are you yelling?"
Gray didn't answer at first. From her husband and oldest daughter passing out to the talking dog leaving her behind, the encounter had taken no more than a minute, minute and fifteen seconds tops. The kidnappers had arrived out of the blue, and had left just as quickly. Her brain needed a little bit to catch up.
...
And when it did, five ponies were blown across the hallway in Gray's wake. One of them barely managed to catch a split-second image of her fangs and outraged eyes before she was past them and gone, as if she had never existed. For that one moment, the building--normally so warm in the summer--felt inexplicably cold.
As they struggled back upright, one of the ponies summed up the thoughts of everypony present. "Gray Ghost, indeed."
Gray was thorough in describing what happened, though she left out what she'd told the family before leaving the Pyre. In addition, she'd turned over the dart that the kidnappers had tried and failed to use against her, thinking that Forensics would be able to figure out more.
She wrapped up her report by giving those present complete descriptions of her missing family members. Once finished, she slumped against the chair that she'd been guided to, feeling overwhelmed as her anger finally left her. Ponies rarely ever handled personal crises very well, and she was no exception to that: for the first time since she'd married, she felt truly alone.
After a short time a thought crossed her mind, and she sat upright in realization. Leviathan. She should've been at Hyacinth when we had returned, helping those two thieves get situated. Why weren't they there? They could've helped me stop the kidnapping!
The lobby's doors opened, and hoofsteps were heard. Distracted by her own problems, Gray ignored them at first... but did a double-take when she heard a familiar voice say her name. "Sally?" she wondered, looking on over.
Sure enough, Drama Heart was there just a few feet away. It wasn't that which got her immediate attention, though. Instead, her eyes went directly to what was hovering overhead wrapped in Drama's magic: Leviathan's Frost Javelin. "Sally?" Gray asked again, starting to feel afraid at the implications. "Where did you get that?"
"One of my neighbors found it," Drama explained, worried at her friend's reaction. They both ignored those officers who were listening in. "He saw somepony climbing down a ladder from the roof. When he went to investigate, he found those two ex-thieves suffering from obvious head injuries, and the billboard was damaged. Fairy's weapon was just sort of off to the side. He had a taxi take the two of them to the hospital, but he wasn't sure what to do with this, so eventually he turned it over to me."
Gray knew that Leviathan wouldn't carelessly leave her equipment for others to find. After all, she wouldn't, so why should somepony who had proven their credentials as a warrior do it? This isn't right. Something's wrong about all of this.
"Missus?" an officer called for her as he entered the lobby. "We've got the results back from Forensics."
"Huh. That was fast," Gray commented, turning her attention to him.
"And there's a good reason for that," was the response she received. The officer was frowning, and he was stealing periodic glances at the weapon Drama was holding. "We've seen the potion in that dart multiple times in the past year. It's the exact same sedative that the Midnight Castles liked to use to put their targets to sleep. We barely had to do any testing to figure that out."
"The..." Gray's mind went over this fact as she reconsidered who had kidnapped her family, and the ramifications of Leviathan somehow losing her weapon. "The description I gave a few moments ago. Does it match up with either of their leaders?"
One of the officers held up a hoof, indicating a desire for them to wait, then raced out of the room. He returned several minutes later, dour as dour could be. "The armor that you saw two of the kidnappers wear are a match for the sets we procured earlier, with the addition of helmets," he explained. "And while we don't know for sure what they look like without them, the color schemes line up with the coat colors of both leaders."
Gray and Drama were both incensed at this for their own reasons. For the former, it was because she'd just pieced together who the rest of the kidnappers were, disguises or not. Venturing a guess, they either figured out who stole their files, or they know about my association with Levi.
Drama, meanwhile, was angry because she hadn't forgotten what had almost happened weeks before. Learning that her life's work was the target of a massive robbery was not the sort of thing she could dismiss out of hoof. Hearing that they'd moved from burglary to kidnapping didn't help her mood.
The desk officer cleared his throat, addressing Drama. "You said that the robot's weapon was just lying around?"
She realized as she replied that her words were more irate than she'd intended, and she dialed it down part-way through. "I haven't seen her since she left earlier. She was supposed to get those two that today's trial acquitted set up at Flower Row. I don't think she'd just leave this sitting around, would she?"
"And I didn't see her at all at the apartment," added Gray.
The officer pondered this. "Best to play it safe." He turned to one of his co-workers. "Go find Coffee-and-Cream, would you? She's Leviathan's go-between with the Department."
...
Coffee had been getting out of her uniform in preparation to leave for the day, but on being told what was happening, she put it in reverse. She recognized the both of them upon meeting them, inquired what was going on, and got a brief synopsis of the situation.
Nodding upon being told what she was supposed to do, she reached a hoof up to her radio. "General Leviathan, this is Officer Coffee-and-Cream. Requesting a sitrep. Come in, General."
Long seconds ticked by, with no response. She tried again. "I repeat, this is Officer Coffee. Come in, General Leviathan. Are you picking us up?"
Nothing. Coffee made several more attempts at getting Leviathan's attention, but was left with nothing but static to show for it. With each failed try, everypony in the room became increasingly bothered. The two closest to the lost Reploid were especially worried.
After the eighth try, Coffee slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, everypony, but she's not responding. I don't know what's going on."
Drama, having turned the Javelin over to one of the onlookers for the Police to hold onto, tapped Gray for her attention. "You never mentioned exactly why you were here talking about those thieves."
...
By the end of Gray's explanation, she had started to cry. Between her family's disappearance and Leviathan's, it was beginning to become too much for her to handle. Drama, shocked at the news but concerned for one of her few real friends, let her hug it out.
Coffee-and-Cream was pacing back and forth, glaring at the floor. "There's something off with that," she commented. "Yes, they were thieves, but none of the group had any charges of murder or assault on their records. They had to know you would report this to us. They've got to be bluffing."
Gray shook her head. A tear that was hanging off of her temple flew away. "I can't take that c-chance," she said, voice trembling as she let go of Drama. "If I can't find them tonight, then I'm turning myself over to them before the deadline. I don't w-want to just give them up. Those five are the world and the sun to me!"
"At least give us a chance to do our jobs first," Coffee answered, sternly yet not unkindly. "Whether they are or not, we'll do everything we can to find them. I'm assuming you turned over descriptions of what your family looks like?"
"Yes."
"Then we can get the Department searching for any clues as to their and the kidnappers' whereabouts." Coffee's pacing picked up some speed. "And I don't think it's a coincidence that Leviathan vanished at the same time. Assuming it's the same group, they've got to be hiding her somewhere."
"Yes," Drama wondered, "but where?"
Coffee stopped, turning to face them with determined eyes. "That's what I intend to find out. I've had the privilege of working with the General for some days now, and I've seen the end results of her work. I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't help return the favor."
"Permission granted," a gruff voice grunted.
Drama and Gray nearly jumped in surprise. Coffee more than made up for them, yelping and doing a complete 360 before whirling to salute her just-arrived superior--something that the rest of the officers present were quick to follow up on. "Chief Grove!"
The heavy-set Chief of the MRPD was old enough to have a graying mane and wrinkles lining his face. His eyebrows were consistently furrowed to the point his eyes were nearly invisible, making him look a lot meaner than he really was. "Cut it out," he ordered, waiting for the group to drop their salutes before he continued. "Whoever kidnapped the Siren General committed a crime against a foreign representative. It is our responsibility to support her with everything we have, and I do mean everything. Coffee, go to where the General's weapon was found and begin your investigation there."
Coffee saluted him. "Yes, sir."
"Is it okay if I come along?" Drama offered. "I realize I shouldn't be butting in on official Police business, but..." She swallowed. "Leviathan is a friend of mine, and I want to find her as much as you do. I know a few spells that will help if we run into any trouble."
Grove eyed her. "And who are you?"
Gray's hoof immediately shot to Drama's shoulder before she could resort to a bombastic introduction. "Right. Dignified. Got it," the unicorn muttered before clearing her throat. "Drama Heart, alias Burning Salamandra. I'm a professional illusionist."
"You're sure about this, Sally?" Gray asked her apprehensively. "It's not a show. This will get rough."
"Oh-ho-ho, I am long past caring about 'rough'." Drama's smile did a poor job of concealing her anger. "We were talking earlier about supporting Leviathan's goal of getting home, Gray, and I'm going to do it. I'm not a fighter, but I don't need to be." Her horn lit up. "What I have is more than enough."
One of the officers sniffed the air. "Oh hey, donuts!" he exclaimed, turning towards the front desk and reaching for... nothing. "Hey! Where'd they go?! I swear I smelled donuts here!"
Drama's horn dimmed. "Need I say more?"
Most of the officers muttered to themselves as Grove considered Drama's offer. "Alright, you can help Officer Coffee in her search. Just remember that you'll be following her lead. If she tells you to do something, do it. If you don't, whatever happens is entirely on you. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Drama agreed, willing to accept those conditions.
"What about my family?" Gray brought up anxiously. "I don't want to just leave them."
"We won't," Grove assured her. "This is a search-and-rescue operation the likes of which the department hasn't seen in years, Gray. I feel that it's time our secret weapons earned their keep."
Gray didn't know what to make of the Chief's statement. "...Secret weapons? You're police, not military."
"You'll see. Tenant?" Grove ordered, addressing the officer whom Drama had just gotten done deceiving. "Make sure the K-9 unit is ready. Gray, if you'd be so kind as to take them to where the kidnapping took place, we can get to work."
"Missus? Are you okay?"
"I'm... I'm fine. Just give me a minute."
As it turned out, their "secret weapons" were five dogs of various breeds and sizes, held back only by the commands of their respective trainers. Gray's fear almost shot through the roof when she saw them at the apartment not long after, triggering a brief exchange. She was relieved when the trainers told her to retrieve any treasured or frequently-used items that the dogs could use as a starting point.
Once she had sufficiently overcome her fear to focus on what needed to be done, she realized what purpose the dogs served. All five of them were of breeds known to be excellent trackers, and the way they only acted on orders showed that they were well-trained. If they could single out the individual scents, they stood a pretty good chance of picking up her family's trails--and the kidnappers' besides.
This is a recent development. They didn't have this unit when I was with the Department. Good thing, too--there's no way I would've been able to resist running.
One by one, she brought out items for the unit's inspection, trying her best not to physically touch them more than she needed to. And one by one, each pair of trackers left as the dogs caught onto the scents. One of Ocean's whistles. Ebony's blue flyswatter, her green one having been on her bandoleer when she was nabbed. A frisbee Pure Energy often played with when he was alone. One of Fiver's hairbands. Finally, Zig-Zag's now-favorite toy--a plush doll of Princess Cadance, compliments of the real deal after her recent visit.
Gray lingered in the hallway long enough to make sure that everypony got off the fire escape safely, then retreated to her apartment and shut the door. Several times, her neighbors knocked on the door demanding answers. She ignored them all, shunning their company when it would've been better for her state of mind to confide in somepony, and barely noticed when they finally gave up. As time passed and Celestia's sun dropped below the rooftops, she restlessly paced around the apartment. There was little she could do at this point but wait.
"Mrrow."
Gray flinched as Echo, the only one she considered family still in the apartment, got her attention. The cat was sitting at the door, his tail twitching as he regarded her impatiently. "What is it, little boy?" she asked with concern, approaching him. "Please don't tell me you want to go out. It's too late for that."
"Mrraow."
She winced as he made his intentions clear. "Of course you do. I don't know what I was thinking." She started to unlock the door, pausing to look down at him and lightly pet the back of his head. "Please... be careful. Stay out of trouble. Okay, Echo? Being without the rest of my clowder's bad enough. I don't want to lose you, too."
Echo wound his way around her legs, his tail tickling her chin as he went, telling her in his own way not to worry. His assurances complete, he padded past the now-open door and disappeared around the corner.
Gray shut and locked the door, then slowly walked into the living room. She surveyed her surroundings, seeing no one but hearing the random chatter of her children and husband in her memories. The cozy apartment had been so full of life that morning, but now it was dreadfully empty. She whimpered softly, her heart aching.
Don't give up yet, she told herself. The department isn't full of imbeciles. They know what they're doing. Trust that they can bring your family back to you. Her eyes sharpened like steel. And if the worst comes to worst, and I never see Ocean and my kittens again... then Celestia help those who did this.
She had no urge to do the night's chores and no desire for entertainment or sleep. She turned to face the door, plopped down onto her side, stretched herself out, and stared straight forwards as she waited for news of her family's return. Sooner or later, they would come back.
Step-mama's in no condition to find my not-littermates. She's too distracted, too worried. The ponies and their dogs are doing what they can, but it's not enough.
I've recently eaten. I've had a good rest today. I've done what needs to be done at home. Step-mama needs to stop worrying and crying.
So I guess I'll have to do some searching myself.
The Calmest Waters Often Hide the Deepest Depths - Part One
Normally, when Echo was let outside by his request, he would waste his time wandering around the building looking for any interesting things happening. On days when he was feeling particularly attention-hungry or just plain hungry in general, he'd walk around outside and interact with pedestrians, hoping they'd give him treats (which hardly ever happened, but hope springs eternal). Rarely, he'd do the odd bit of hunting to supplement his diet. He never once left Flower Row to explore the neighborhood.
Today, something new had come up. Echo was not deaf to what had happened in the hallway. In his own way he was just as distressed as Gray, even if he couldn't vocalize it properly. Too much abrupt change had taken place, and he hated it.
He initially wanted to investigate right away, but Gray had immediately left the building instead of letting him out. So instead he ate and drank his fill at his feeding station, did his regular business, and slept until Gray returned. He refrained from going into the hallway while the dogs were present, not wanting to deal with them any more than she did.
It wasn't that he hated dogs. There was a little terrier in the corner building next door that he got along fine with. It was just that those five were complete strangers to him, and he didn't want to risk anything.
After everypony was finally gone, Echo made what sounded to his owner like his usual demands to be let outside. With some reluctance she did so, voicing her concerns. She probably believed that he wanted to do some evening hunting.
If so then she was right, in spite of it not being quite the type of hunting he had in mind.
Echo didn't leave the building right away. For a time he explored the hallway, letting his nose tell him what had happened here today. There was no shortage of scents here: his family had all been around, intermingled with those who had taken them. He recognized the scents of several ponies that he knew lived in the building. His whiskers twitched as he catalogued the smells of the Police ponies and the dogs. Some of those scents had diluted a little with time, and would probably be gone entirely within days.
He eventually determined that there was one that hadn't.
One of the ponies that had been here had not done a very good job taking care of herself. The areas where she had been lurking fairly reeked with sweat, more than what the summertime heat would normally be responsible for. Echo found himself surprised, knowing how much ponies--or at least his ponies--liked to keep themselves clean. This scent out of all of them was the most fascinating to him, and he decided to follow after it.
The trail ended at the fire escape. Echo growled as he saw the doors closed and locked, as they always were at night. There would be no continuing through there.
Instead, he trotted to the stairs at the other end of the building and made his way down to the ground floor. The superintendent was in the lobby putting some things away for the night, and he recognized Echo by his collar as he entered the room. "Hey there, cat," he greeted him. "Heard yer owner getting into trouble up there earlier. Doin' some hunting?"
Echo meowed an affirmative, waiting impatiently by the front door.
The stallion chuckled. "Fine, fine," he said, approaching the door and pushing it open. "If I'm not in 'ere when you get back, you know what to do. Have fun out there."
Echo slipped out and went straight for the alley. He spent several minutes sniffing around, eventually picking up the sweat-laden odor jumbled among those he had previously detected.
Interesting.
The pony he was tracking had exited the alley the way he had entered, and her pursuers had gone that way as well. When Echo explored past the fire escape, he found that there were traces of the odor still in the air--and that they were clinging to the alley's fence, telling him that the pony had scaled it to approach his home instead of entering normally.
Gathering his muscles, Echo leaped to the top of a dumpster, from there to a windowsill, and then to the top of the fence. Getting down didn't require quite as much effort from him, only a good sense of balance. After he landed he inhaled, drinking in the night air. None of the other scents were interfering anymore: of all those that had been in the hallway, there was now only sweat and the vague scent of the ocean. Strange. We are not near the water.
Echo walked to the end of the alley, apprehensive as he looked out at the world beyond Flower Row. There was very little in the way of wind and nothing informing him of rain, indicating that the trail would stay somewhat warm for a while. He didn't know what he was going to find by backtracking this trail, but if it helped his pony to stop worrying, he was going to do it even if it meant venturing into unfamiliar territory.
A taxi carriage passed him by. Double-checking to make sure that nothing else big was headed his way, as he was aware of his nearsightedness compared to those he lived with, he cut across the street to continue his search.
Coffee-and-Cream's initial goal in life wasn't to become a police officer. While growing up she had been enamored with mysteries and detective novels, so she decided that she wanted to open her own detective agency. After she finished her schooling, she successfully secured an apprenticeship with somepony working in that field, learning the tricks of the trade for a year and a moon.
Unfortunately, a scandal manifested at the end of that period that resulted in the detective serving time in prison for tax fraud, possession of counterfeit bits, and illegal ownership of a swan. Though Coffee herself was cleared of any wrongdoing, the day-to-day running of the agency fell into her hooves, and she quickly found that it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. The first chance she got, she turned the agency over to somepony more capable and left it for good.
She'd never considered that someday, she'd have to resume that line of work on her boss's orders.
Drama Heart had briefly returned to the Pyre once they arrived at the scene of Leviathan's disappearance. She regrouped with Coffee a few minutes later with her saddlebags, which she said held some Heartbreakers and a few other odds and ends. "I have a big imagination, Officer, and it's telling me that she might need what I'm carrying," she had told her.
It was hardly the weirdest thing somepony had told her, and she had to admit to herself that it had merit in light of Leviathan's publicized dietary needs. She agreed to let Drama take her things with her.
The two of them started their investigation with Drama's neighbor. The pony had initially been irritated at being bothered this late into the evening, but changed his tune when he learned that it concerned what he had found earlier. He re-told Coffee what he'd said to Drama. When pressed for additional details, he was able to recall the color scheme of the pony he'd seen climbing down the ladder.
It took a bit more thinking, but he was also able to piece together that her Cutie Mark was some sort of fruit. "They were purple-blue, kinda sparkly. Sort of looked like a bunch of grapes, but the shape was all wrong," he'd explained. "I want to say they were plums, but..."
...
Drama was grimacing when they left, trying to roll something around in her mind. "Don't feel that you have to stay quiet, Miss," Coffee told her in a low voice as they circled around to the alley. "Speak your mind. I'll decide if it's pertinent to the case or not."
"I was just thinking about that Cutie Mark he described," Drama pondered with a frown. "They sounded like sugar plum candies, and it reminded me of an old business rival of mine back home in Baltimare that liked to use them as her logo."
Coffee shrugged dismissively, then started to climb the ladder up to the roof. "A lot of ponies like to use their Cutie Marks as their business logos. It's hardly uncommon."
"Except that the candies weren't her Mark," Drama corrected her, following her up. "They more accurately reflected her name, 'Sugarplum Spotlight'. Her Cutie Mark was actually a sparkly light beam."
...!
Coffee froze just short of the roof. Couldn't be... "You don't say? You said you were business rivals. What sort of business are we talking about?"
Recognizing that the officer had stopped, Drama did the same. Her horn lit up as a tendril wrapped around a step, keeping herself from falling off. "She was a storyteller and stage magician. Like myself, she'd use illusions to illustrate her tales. The difference between us is that her main attractions were bright, cheery, and family friendly. ...And leaned heavily towards happy endings."
Getting warmer... "And just to make sure I have the name right, her name is 'Sugarplum Spotlight'?"
"Was," Drama corrected her again, somewhere between irritated and truly angry. "She never did like the thought of somepony who 'incites panic for a career' keeping pace with her. She eventually took to learning increasingly powerful magic to spice up her shows, taking more risks. Because of that, according to eyewitnesses, she accidentally hit herself with a spell she hadn't perfected yet. Damaged something in her brain. She was never the same after that."
She huffed. "She stopped calling herself by her real name and began referring to herself as 'Illudere' instead. There were a number of attempts at healing and rehabilitating her, but she became very uncooperative and refused to listen. She even straight up hospitalized one of those trying to help her. After that, they gave up. Trussed her up like a Hearths Warming present and chucked her into an asylum." Drama sneered as her thoughts on the topic lingered. "It would be pretty sad if it wasn't so pathetic."
That's what I'm afraid of. "'Illudere', huh? I thought so." Coffee finished her climb, then reached down and pulled Drama on up. "As it happens, Miss, there's a pony with that very name and Cutie Mark wanted for her role in the MRPD breakout."
It was Drama's turn to freeze, even if just for a few seconds. "Nightmare Moon's sweet sorry keister," she cursed, eyes wide. "I'd always wondered where she went to after that asylum was busted open. I never realized she was right here in Manehattan the entire time!"
From her own saddlebags, Coffee pulled out a flashlight and a small magnifying glass, the latter a memento from her previous career. She gestured for Drama to take the flashlight, then stooped down to examine the roof after the light was on. "Working on a theory here. My mind's thinking that Illudere got it into her head to abduct Leviathan for some twisted reason, and used one of those illusions you mentioned to disguise herself. Personally I don't buy it, but you're likely familiar with that old line about impossibility and improbability."
While mysteries would never number among her favorite novels, Drama was indeed aware of the line in question. Her mind latched onto a different tack. "Why do you think it would be impossible?"
"Because Leviathan's a robot. She probably doesn't see the world the same way we do. Anything Illudere tried would fall flat on its face."
...
"You said you could communicate through song! You never said you could alter reality!"
...
"Eh-heh-heh..."
Coffee looked up at Drama's weak chuckling. There was just enough illumination from the flashlight that she could see the rosy hue past her facial fur. "...Why are you blushing?"
"So, uh... I was demonstrating a very specific illusion to Fairy her first week here." Drama awkwardly tapped her front hooves together. Her face spelled out 'whoopsy-daisy' as blatantly as it could without resorting to billboard advertising. "I had to cut it short when she started freaking out. So yes, um... Reploids can in fact be effected by them."
An awkward silence. "...Right," Coffee muttered, returning her attention to the roof. She found that she was unwilling to continue that train of thought. "Good to know, I guess. Let's... just see if there's anything of note that Illudere might have left behind. Be quiet for a few minutes and keep helping me with that flashlight."
As it would happen, something was left.
While her insanity dug deeper into her brain, Illudere had all but stopped bothering to take care herself. She began going days, at times weeks, without taking any sort of bath or shower. In addition she stopped tending her mane and tail, letting them grow wild and uncontrolled. Oftentimes she tended to forget that either of them existed, and she had to be forced to clean up.
(She always took good care of her teeth, though. One of those who had tried to rehabilitate her once asked why she continued to do so while she disregarded everything else, and her answer was that she wanted ponies to see her "innocent smile".)
Numerous hairs had been left behind all over the roof: orange, dark blue, and silver, unaffected by the former Sugarplum's illusions. All of them had gotten snagged on different parts of the roof, with a few being twisted around several times at the base of the billboard. Coffee's nose crinkled as she collected them. "And ponies think I'm bad about not taking showers," she murmured to herself at one point.
It took some time before she was satisfied that they'd found everything there was on the roof. "At the very least, we've confirmed that Illudere was behind the kidnapping," Coffee said as they returned to the streets, the collected hair secure in her saddlebags. "But this doesn't tell us where she went. We'll need to ask around to see if anypony witnessed any suspicious activities."
Drama looked up at the darkened sky and the brilliant disc of the moon, the latter visible past some drifting clouds. "That will be a neat trick, considering..."
"The alternative is searching around blindly," Coffee answered, "and we're on a time crunch. It's imperative that we recover General Leviathan quickly. The safety of Gray Ghost's family must be secured, and given how dangerous our first four enemies were, the other five will be more so. Even if the K-9 unit succeeds in finding them, I think we will need her help to rescue the victims before the imposed deadline."
"Assuming the kidnappers don't decide to cut their losses first," Drama pointed out.
Coffee's posture sunk slightly, letting her concern show for a moment. "I still don't want to believe that those two thieves would resort to murder if their demands aren't met, but the other three are complete unknowns. Based on your past familiarity with her, do you feel that Illudere would sink that low?"
"Considering she put a pony in the hospital and never showed the slightest bit of remorse for it?" Drama's horn lit up, followed closely by her eyes as they momentarily glowed red. "Yes. She used to be a good pony, but she let our little rivalry get to her head and paid the price for it. There's nothing left of Sugarplum Spotlight in that skull of hers. There's only Illudere."
"Then let's get to work." Coffee straightened. "We'll search along this street and see if we can rouse somepony who might've seen her leave. Unless it falls into your purview, let me do the talking." She gestured at a nearby bakery. Drama recognized it as one that she periodically purchased desserts from. Several lights were on in the apartment above it, though she suspected they wouldn't stay that way for long. "As good a place as any to start."
With an investigation ahead and unsettling words behind, the two of them crossed the street at the intersection and got to work.
As he tracked the sweaty pony's scent across the city and took necessary detours to evade wandering dogs, he realized something that most in Manehattan had known their entire lives: there was no true rest to be had. The majority of the population might be asleep, but that still left plenty who realized the night's potential and exploited it.
The further along he traveled, the bigger and brighter his surroundings became. Where there were few night-goers back at Flower Row, there were plenty of them here. Time and time again he had to slow down and try to single out the scent after those of others had mingled with it. Thankfully it wasn't too difficult: none of the others smelled quite like the ocean.
From a distance, he heard the chatter of a dozen young ponies as they excitedly entered a noisy facility of some kind. His ears turned back as the raucous racket they called "music" rattled him, and he lingered only long enough to confirm that his target had indeed passed through here before continuing.
And I thought those songs that step-mama and my not-littermates like to listen to were bad. I'll take "fell in love again, what am I gonna tell my friends" over "why is that ugly mare your wife, I am much prettier" any day. Is it really necessary for the ground to shake for it to be considered music?
Echo passed through an alley adjacent to an all-night restaurant. A feral cat on the lookout for scraps, rodents, or both hissed at him as he passed, telling him that this was her territory and that she would not tolerate trespassers. He ignored her, dead-set on staying on track, and didn't so much as flinch when she tried to snap at his tail. There was an air of befuddlement in the alley as he left her behind, the feral cat perplexed at his total lack of acknowledgement.
Gray's pet crossed another street, pausing after he had reached safety. He had no way of knowing this, but he was approaching the heart of the entertainment district. Theaters, dance clubs, music halls, and many more establishments dedicated to the enrichment (and occasional detriment) of ponies' lives had been placed here. Those that were open at this late hour were seeing an abundance of hoof traffic, nearly crowding out the scent that he had followed up until this point. His tail twitched in irritation.
"Oh hey, what a pretty cat!"
Echo growled at the words. Normally he would've sought out attention from others, but right now he had something he wanted to do. He turned away from the one that had spoken and trotted around a corner to see if he could pick up his target's scent again, and to check for a place to take a quick rest. He'd been on the move for the last few hours.
"Aw, don't run away! Are you lost? Here, kitty kitty kitty!"
"Here, kitty kitty kitty". Not on your life, stupid.
Echo picked up his pace when he heard hoofstops behind him. Wanting only to lose her quickly, he darted into another alley. His presence startled two others that had been lurking there, but since they made no move to stop him, he ignored them and sought a hiding place inside a box instead.
Limefrost Spiral had sold an older painting she'd made of the city skyline to a private collector earlier that day. Pleased with her financial gain and deciding to treat herself, she'd made a special trip to a dance club she was familiar with to see if she could spot any good-looking, well-off stallions who were romantically free.
While she wanted to marry a rich pony so that she would be set for life, she wasn't picky when it came to actual companionship. She didn't mind the idea of adopting some sort of pet. So when she saw Echo across the street, she decided that he was as good as any--not seeing his collar and name tag--and tried to coax him to her side. When that failed, she followed after him.
Playing hard to get, are we? We'll see about that! "Kitty, come back here! I just wanna pet you!"
Limefrost saw the cat turn into an alley. Not wanting to lose track of him, she followed him in---and very nearly walked into two ponies who had been hanging out there.
Consisting of one male and one female, they were both scruffy-looking and tough. The latter pulled a knife out of somewhere, while the former opted for a hefty wooden plank that had been leaning against the wall next to him. "Your money, your silence, or both," the male threatened, balancing the plank on one hoof. "And 'none of the above' ain't an option."
...
"Kitty! Kitty, where are you?" Limefrost called, quickly scanning the alley. Seeing no sign of him, she huffed and stomped the ground in irritation. "Lost it!" She sighed and ambled out of the alley back towards the dance club, disappointed. "Thought for sure I'd be picking up a cat tonight... oh, well. Maybe I'll have better luck picking up love."
Scuffed but otherwise unharmed and oblivious to what she'd just done, Limefrost left behind two hapless thugs. Due to Limefrost's longer legs giving her a reach advantage, the male was unconscious from a buck to the face and his own plank landing on his head. The other was trapped against a trash receptacle by her partner's weight, left quaking in fear after her tail hairs were stuck to the ground by her own knife.
I'm going to pretend I didn't see that.
Satisfied that there was no further pursuit, Echo took a moment to catch his breath and quench his thirst from a pan of water that had been set out. The pan had probably been intended for some stray animal or other, but he didn't care as long as he wasn't thirsty anymore. A light breeze ruffled his fur as he drank.
Finished, he turned aside and continued his investigation. The combination of sweat and ocean was coming through loud and clear halfway down the alley, so he figured that his target had been here. He walked around and up a set of stairs, nose working the whole way.
It was at the top of those steps that a faint--very faint--sound reached his ears. It was a noise he recognized from when any of his not-littermates aside from the quiet one were having an especially bad day. Somepony was crying.
He had never met Leviathan before. She had not visited his home since that day he had heard Ebony screaming about a mannequin, and he did not know what she looked or sounded like. He wasn't aware that she had been kidnapped; Gray had not mentioned her at all after she'd returned home.
All the same, Echo wasn't stupid (or at least he believed he wasn't). Somepony arrived at his home while traveling from this location, a place where there was some sort of grief in progress. The one crying didn't sound like anypony he knew, but his little feline mind guessed that the sweaty pony was the one responsible.
It wasn't what he had set out to find, but he knew what needed to be done.
The question is: how to do it?
The crying was coming from behind a padlocked metal door, with a boarded-up and shuttered window next to it. As the situation stood, he had no hope of getting in on his own. He would need to get somepony who could help to follow him here. He considered the two that had been incapacitated, then decided that they wouldn't be in a position to help him anytime soon.
He was still trying to figure out who to ask when the light breeze that had been blowing for the past few minutes brought him news of two new scents. He turned in the direction the breeze had been coming from to better fix them in his mind. One of them was sweaty like his mark, but it was nowhere near as bad and it didn't smell like the sea.
The other he recognized immediately. The angry pony who had threatened his step-mom into working for her and kindly listened to his not-littermates was approaching.
As good as possibilities as any, he decided as he hurried down the stairs and out of the alley. Here's hoping I can get through to them.
It took ten tries before Drama and Coffee were able to make any progress in their search.
The first pony they asked knew Drama from her visits to his bakery, but shook his head apologetically and told them he hadn't seen any suspicious activity. Three more flatly or tiredly told them they hadn't seen anything and closed their doors in the pair's faces, causing Coffee's anger to briefly percolate. A fifth was ill and was too sick to come to the door. The sixth was busy showering in preparation for sleep, and two other residences didn't show signs of life at all. A ninth pony was on his way to a night shift at the Manehattan Museum of Art and hadn't even been awake at the time of Levi's disappearance.
Finally, at an antique shop three blocks from the Pyre, they struck gold. The aged proprietor had been having a slow business day, and he had spent much of his time relaxing on a chair beneath his shop's awning. He witnessed a pony matching the description given to them climbing into a taxi and telling the driver to take her to the Bridleway Theater District. He noticed that the scraggly-haired pony's horn--barely visible within that mess of a mane--had been glowing the entire time, but it didn't look like she was carrying anything or doing anything of note.
The two of them thanked the shop owner for helping them, then left. "If she wasn't doing anything obvious, that could mean her illusions were hiding Leviathan from sight," Coffee muttered on their way back to where their carriage was waiting. "How long do those things last?"
"It depends on how much magic is applied to the illusion and how," Drama clarified. She unsuccessfully attempted to suppress a yawn. "Excuse me. Illudere's at my level of skill and power, so she should be able to juggle multiple small-scale illusions for hours at a time. It's worth noting, though, that it's more difficult for unicorns to carry Levi in their magical field than it is for earth ponies like yourself to carry her with physical strength."
Coffee recalled the interrogations that were carried out on the Midnight Castles after their capture. One of their unicorns had tried to keep Leviathan immobilized but was forced to give up after a short while. The thief had chalked it up to the Reploid's pure strength, which was partially correct but clearly not the full story. "Speaking from experience?"
"I've had to move her a few times, mostly to help her with the stairs after a fall," Drama said, wincing at some memory or other. "It's surprisingly magic-intensive. It doesn't surprise me that Illudere gave up after a few blocks and hailed a carriage. If she handled her for too long, she would be too exhausted to maintain her illusions."
And she would thus alert any sensible citizen to what she was doing. Bridleway's a considerable distance across Manehattan from the Pyre.
Her question answered, Coffee stayed quiet until they reached the carriage. They climbed in, instructed the officer hitched to it to head for Bridleway at a normal pace, and settled in for the trip.
It came as no surprise to Coffee that Drama started to doze off. She let her do so. Coffee didn't have too many issues dealing with minimal amounts of sleep, at least not at this point in her life, but Drama lacked her ability to keep odd hours.
She waited a few moments for Drama to perk up once they reached the source of Manehattan's brightest lights and darkest vices. On finding that she was still asleep, Coffee nudged her. "Wakey-wakey, Ms. Heart. We're here."
Drama opened her eyes tiredly. "...That took far less time than I'd have liked," she complained, stretching a little before following the officer out of the carriage. She became a smidgen more alert as she looked around. "I'm honestly happy that my theater's not part of the in-crowd. So, where do we begin?"
...
This part of the city was just as active at night as places like Bronclyn were during the day. Leviathan's abduction had been some time ago. Coffee didn't think that there were any eyewitnesses here who would've seen Illudere pass through, which meant a more intensive search was what was needed.
It was slow going as they patrolled the street, trying to keep a close eye on anything and everything. Most of those they met were more interested in their own agendas. There were a few who were curious enough to ask them what they were doing, but none of them had seen anything wrong that evening. Occasionally the magnifying glass would come back out, but this time around it didn't help reveal any real clues.
Illudere had told the driver to take her to Bridleway, Coffee recalled. She had never given a specific place on Bridleway to go to. It could be anywhere on these streets. She shook her head, deciding to alter their approach. We're not going to get anyplace out in the open. Time to start checking the darker corners---
"Maaaooow."
Coffee's lips twitched as she heard the sound, and she reined in a smile. "I know you're tired, Ms. Heart, but please keep it down."
"Wasn't me," Drama denied, though she had paused to rub her eyes anyway. "Look up ahead."
Coffee did so, seeing the black cat approaching them at a fast walk. She wasn't superstitious, but seeing one of them at this time of night bothered her a little. Handsome little thing, though, she quietly noted. Looks healthy, though it could just be all that fur.
The cat came to a stop eight feet in front of them, meowing. "Sorry, fella, but I don't have time to pet you right now," Coffee told him, passing him by. "Maybe later. C'mon, Ms. Heart. We've got backstreets to visit."
"Little dearie, so sorry," Drama apologized to the cat as she did the same, giving it a light pat before leaving. "Would've fit my decor beautifully, too..."
...
Echo was miffed as both of the ponies left him behind. He might have been the friendly sort, but if there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was being ignored. I'm trying to do something important, and this is what happens?
Well, if they're just going to ignore me...
There was a way that was guaranteed to get their attention that he knew of. It had worked on his adoptive family when he wanted something right now, and he couldn't think of a reason why it wouldn't work this time. Picking up his pace to catch up with them, he extended his claws and reached towards the unicorn.
...
Drama shrieked as something reached out and scratched her just above her right leg. Coffee jolted at the noise, opening her mouth to tell Drama to quiet down... and jumped a foot in the air when she felt a similar sensation, this time to the left of her tail. "Ow!" Her attempt at a retaliatory buck hit nothing but air, and she whirled to face the culprit. "Why, you little---!"
"Mrrrrow," the cat replied, bringing her up short with his completely unimpressed stare.
The brief lull in activity brought on by the surprise attack let Drama---wincing from her new ache---get a better look at him than they had previously. She could see him clearly in the steetlights' illumination, and he seemed healthier than any stray cat she'd seen in years. To her displeasure, his claws were still evident. Around his neck was a simple collar with a tag hanging from it, giving his address and name---! "Officer, look at the collar!" she exclaimed. "I recognize him now! This is Gray's cat, Echo! How'd he get all the way out here?"
"Why'd it claw us?" Coffee was more interested in knowing, her teeth gritted and her face glowing in embarrassment and mild anger. "That was uncalled for! I could've bucked it just now!"
"Mrrrrow," Echo repeated. He turned and walked down the street the way he came, meowing and chirping the entire way. The two ponies' eyes were fixed on him as he reached the end of the block. He turned to face them and called out again, his tone urgent.
Their disbelief was palpable. "...Are you getting the feeling that he wants us to follow him?" Drama asked, unsure.
Coffee's eyes squeezed shut as she tried to come to terms with this new development. On the one hoof, it probably wasn't a coincidence that Gray Ghost's pet was found out here after their family was kidnapped and Illudere was tracked to this district. On the other, she didn't want any distractions in their investigation. Echo could easily be a false lead, and he'd just found something unrelated that could take them away from their search.
"Maaoow!"
Her eyes opened at Echo's call, and she emitted a frustrated groan. "I just know I'm going to regret doing this, but we don't have any solid indicators of Leviathan's location. Come on, Ms. Heart. Let's see where this takes us."
...
Having them follow him did seem to be what he wanted. When they caught up, he crossed the street and continued going, periodically looking back to make sure they were still on his trail. Coffee and Drama kept pace with him, the officer still harboring doubts and the puppeteer hoping that Leviathan was alright.
It wouldn't be long before Drama learned that her hopes had already been crushed.
The Calmest Waters Often Hide the Deepest Depths - Part Two
All of that time filled with meaningful work, love, and enjoying life... and I'm just now realizing that it was all a farce, that none of those things happened to me at all. Two hundred and thirty one years, or more than 85,000 days of complete and total falsehoods.
How does one begin to describe how I'm feeling right now? How?
"Honoré..."
The name is choked out of me. This is what I've been reduced to for the last ten minutes. Each time I try to say something, anything, I can barely muster any sort of coherency.
I open my eyes for the first time since I began dealing with this anguish that's engulfed me. They are incapable of shedding tears, and yet they're too clouded up to function normally. I try to fight my way past that, to restore them enough that I can see where I am right now.
But it's not my eyes that are telling me that something's wrong. It's my hands.
I've had them clutching my knees while I've been pouring out my emotions. My armor is the perfect weaving of metal and synthetic cloth. I dimly recognize a recent memory of a pony in a police uniform---such an adorable thing---telling me that the sensation was like steel wool.
I'm not detecting that sort of sensation beneath my hands right now. Just the gentle cloth of my... what was it? A bodysuit? ...No, a jumpsuit.
Something I can't explain catches in my throat. I might have gotten into the habit of removing my helmet during peaceful moments---and this must be where that odd familiarity came from---but I never, never remove my boots for anything short of a...
...of a quiet time that I have to remind myself never happened, to my distress. "Honoré," I whisper, "I'm so sorry."
This isn't a peaceful sleep alongside a wonderful husband. I have no conscious recollection of ever removing my boots for anything else besides serious repairs. At some point, somepony (someone?) did that themselves...
...and I'm just now realizing that my HUD is flooded with a diagnostic scan that I never ordered or acknowledged.
Dash Thrusters:Unavailable. Unable to complete scan.
My boots are gone.
Armor Integrity:Unavailable. Unable to complete scan.
My basic body armor is still intact and available. Thank goodness for that. I raise a hand on impulse to massage my forehead---
My helmet's gone.
Combat Capabilities: 60%. Mental state compromised. Armaments compromised. Unable to complete scan.
That spike of terror just now... I never missed it. My mind was attacked? Someone... somepony did this to me? Somepony made me live that whole other life? They took my equipment while I was asleep and unaware?
And what does it mean by---
Frost Javelin:ALERT - Weapon not found.
"No... they couldn't have..."
The mobility that helps me excel in combat no matter where I am. My means of long-range communication and underwater maneuverability. And my primary means of attack and defense. They're gone.
How did they take the Frost Javelin? They shouldn't have any way of accessing my personal inventory...
...except that they wouldn't need to. I'm calling to mind the interaction I had with that pony on the rooftop. I recall summoning the weapon to my hand when I accidentally spooked her. Remembering what she looked like is a little bit tricky, but...
Sky blue coat, with a strange combination of cream and dark gray for her mane and tail... The same manestyle as...
In a flash, I summon another memory: the briefing I received centuries---no, days ago. One of the photos I looked at depicted a pony with the exact same manestyle. I recall that I had just chalked it up later to not all ponies following through on self-care.
But what if...
One more recollection from that other life, work with me, please... alright. About 110 years after Honoré passed away from age, I made the acquaintance of a friendless art student who was eager just to have someone to talk to. I took pity on the poor idiot and spent time with him, pretending to care about his long, rambling speeches about what he was learning.
At some point, I didn't need to pretend anymore.
During one of his lectures, he started messing around with color inversions. Black turning into white. Grassy green becoming light pink. Sky blue becoming...
I latch onto this. Cream and dark gray becoming a dark blue and silver. Her sky blue coat turning a particular shade of orange, most likely topaz.
They aren't perfect inversions, but it's close enough in appearance to---
"Illudere..."
...
...
Somewhere behind the safe house, an aging night janitor went about his business mopping up a tiled floor... until the raw volume of a single name stricken with heartbreak and rage blasted him off his hooves.
Unable to fall back asleep after her unexpected awakening, the unicorn in question registered something reaching her. One eye twitched, then the other. "Riddle me this, little mustang," she cooed, staring up at the ceiling from the floor. She didn't seem to care about how uncomfortable the surface was. "What do you give the mare who has everything?"
The restless Pure Energy, still distressed and upset at being heartlessly ripped away from his daily life, glared at his abductor from the bed he'd been double-tied to and refused to reply.
I don't trust myself to stay coherent. Give me a minute.
...
...
This must have been how Fefnir felt whenever he got angry. He was always more open about his emotions.
I have never in my life, both real and imaginary, felt like this before. My more logical side seems cowed right now.
Calico twitched and opened one eye blearily. For a second, she swore that somepony had just insulted her again. Shaking off the feeling, she shivered at the penetrating stare of the little earth pony across the room and pulled her blanket over her head.
The last thought the kirin had before she fell back asleep was: Tiny filly reminds me of them.
Illudere was toying with me. She was toying with me! She and her cohorts deliberately set this up to embarrass me, rip apart my self-confidence, and leave me out to dry! Did they think I wouldn't find out somehow? Did they seriously think that?
"S-somepony... please..."
My voice is getting choked up again. This entire fiasco has me feel like I've been cut to the heart. Logically it makes sense that nothing I saw over there was real, that I have no reason to be angry over it, but I can't stop thinking about it! I just can't!
That noise is trying to leave me. I have to stop it now before I lose control again!
Bushwhacker listened to Zig-Zag's soft crying, conflicted. The part of him that recalled his upbringing as one of Chrysalis's many drones told him to shut out that sound and get some sleep. The opposite side that had grown attached to Ponyville's residents after his liberation fought back.
An image of somepony in particular came to his mind, resolving his conflict. He climbed down from his bed and approached the corner of the room where Zig-Zag was huddled beneath a chair. "I'm sorry about this," he admitted. "I can't let you go right now, but you can at least rest somewhere more comfortably."
Shape-shifting into a Diamond Dog, he picked up the little pony and placed him on the bed near the pillow. Returning to his preferred form, he climbed onto the chair and closed his eyes, not seeing Zig-Zag's tear-faced surprise.
So much for keeping control. Why can't I stop crying? Why can't I stop crying?! Self, I order you to stop crying!
...I don't know why I expected that to work. Nothing's helping. Too mad to see straight, too distressed to do something about that madness.
But I can at least take stock of where I am now. There's no light in here, so I switch my Deep Sea vision on.
Illudere had left me on the pony equivalent of a full-sized bed, which still wasn't quite big enough to hold me. There's a bathroom behind the wall I'd punched through---
Excuse me a moment. Cleanliness calls.
...
...
Alright, I'm back. Kneeling beneath a running shower didn't help me get a grip on my mood, but at least I feel a little less dusty.
The bedroom has everything you'd expect. Let me see...
Scoping out the dresser... the top drawer has only a scarf and about fifty bits worth of coins. Using metal for currency... how cute. Middle drawer has everything that satisfies hygiene, lower drawer has some scraps of paper and papyrus with a half-empty ink bottle. Nothing I can use right n---
Wait. What's that pinned to the wall? An old newspaper clipping?
Co-Owner of Golden Bell Found Dead Wife Inconsolable
Moissanite, the co-owner of the Golden Bell Performing Arts Center and Museum, was found dead by his wife Alexandrite behind the building. Investigations are ongoing.
No sign of foul play has been reported, and Moissanite reportedly never smoked or drank alcohol. He was perfectly healthy at the time of his death, according to those who knew him. An autopsy has revealed no poison or other harmful substances. The only clue to his demise lies in the absence of his Cutie Mark: the pile of gem dust that characterized him is gone from both sides.
His death has left his wife and partner in constant grief. Ponies are asked to be considerate of Alexandrite and to offer their support in this---
The article is ripped apart at this point, keeping me from reading any more. Moissanite, Alexandrite... where have I...
...
"AGHHHH!"
No, not 'where have I'. More like 'why can't I', as in WHY CAN'T I THINK STRAIGHT FOR ANY OF THIS?!
I get it, self! I get it! You miss that other life you led, you're angry because you were attacked in the worst possible way, I GET IT! For the love of X, just get over it already!
...
...
My hands are unsteady as I read the document sent to me. According to this, I've been named the executrix of my husband's estate---
...
...
I can't stand this anymore! I can't stand to be here or to think here!
"Please... please just---"
...!
There's an odd ticking noise somewhere standing out in the silence. I'll take it if it means not stressing myself out for just a few seconds.
As I try to locate the noise, I fully realize that Illudere had me stashed away in what was probably an abandoned home of sorts. Only one bedroom (now with a hole in the wall) that I just finished looking over, and a kitchen and living room. No windows, oddly, though there is artificial illumination. Pulling on a chain hanging down from the living room ceiling causes a light to switch on, letting me deactivate the Deep Sea.
I reach a hand towards a door, but pause. Illudere would have to be severely overconfident if there wasn't any sort of guard unit nearby. She had to expect that I would wake up eventually.
Though there's nothing keeping me from opening the door a sliver and peeking out into the hall, carefully.
...And it's a good thing I did. There's a small group of pseudo-mechaniloids in the hallway off to my right. Some of those robot butterflies---Magiflies, excuse me---are hovering at one end of the hall, with one of those badger-things beneath them. Multiple sapphire-headed spiders on the walls, just waiting to overwhelm me with sheer numbers: their legs idly tapping against the wall I'm behind are what's making that noise. I can't get an exact count of them all. Near them is a metal door that I'm almost positive leads outside.
Off to the left where I can't see, I can hear something shifting around. They've got that angle covered, too.
I close the door, walk back into the bedroom and sit down, tallying up what's available to me. Despite them taking my equipment, I'm not defenseless. I still have substantial physical strength to call my own. I can utilize ice manipulation without the Javelin; it will just take me longer. "Variable Weapons System"? ...Oh. Right. I was wondering what that was. It's telling me that I still have two techniques I can use: the Arctic Pulse and the Ice Slasher. And... what's this? A dedicated dry ice generator? When and how did I get that upgrade? Did Sentry Squadron piece that together, or---
I hold back the urge to create another hole in the wall. If my memories are going to keep intersecting and crashing into each other like this...
Ocean and Ebony, still under the effects of the sedative they'd been struck with, remained passed out at opposite corners of the room. Bastion had taken the first shift, with Gates dozing outside the door.
It probably wasn't necessary. Given the nature of the sedative they'd used, he could easily have fallen asleep himself. It was best not to take chances, though.
A faint noise got his attention, proving his thinking correct. He edged over to the curtain and peeked through it. Outside were members of the Royal Police, with a bloodhound and a dark-coated shepherd on leashes. The dogs were pawing at the door to the building the thieves were in.
A moment later two Magiflies flew into view, taking potshots at them. The shots were meant to scare, not injure, and they did their job: the officers and their dogs took off in the other direction.
Inside his helmet, Bastion's lips curled downward. They've found us.
I need to get out of here, with or without my equipment. I have to find somebody (somepony?) to talk to. I need to make sense of all this, sort it all out.
But...
But... I don't know if I can. I'm... I'm not feeling like my heart's in this. I should be able to score a victory in this situation, even without my preferred weapon. But what was done to me... it just won't leave my head. It's killing my drive.
I can't figure out how to explain it to any of you. I'm sure there are a few of you seeing my memories in the future and yelling at me something along the lines of: "Neo Arcadia's best is reduced to this? Get up and fight, you wimp! You're tougher than that!" I don't know how to make it perfectly clear to you how deeply my 'experiences' effected me. I'm tough, yes, but I'm not that tough. I'm the same as everybody else: I'm not so strong that I don't have my share of vulnerabilities.
And one pony managed to nail every one of them with a single spell.
My fists slam down onto the bed. I want so very badly to find Illudere and teach her the consequences of mentally assaulting one of the Guardians. But I know it wouldn't work out: what's stopping her from just hitting me with the same spell again? During that other life, even taking into account a few odd sensations and feelings, I had absolutely no recollection of my time in this city. If it happened to me again, I could live for centuries more without knowing that I was at the complete mercy of that cursed unicorn.
Or it might not even be that long. When I was leaving that theater this past day, my main and reserve Energen tanks were almost completely topped off. Fast forward seven hours later, and I'm seeing a large dent made in the main supply while the reserves are empty. Assuming that my systems needed to chew through all of it just to keep up with how the spell interacted with my CPU, then it's possible that a repeat use of it would ensure that I would never wake up again.
The awe I'm in of that kind of power has nothing on my fear of it. I can keep fighting in the face of fire, force and finesse, but I have no recourse against a well-applied fantasy. There's no fun to be had in this. None.
I feel so overwhelmed right now. Trapped. Trying to fight this sort of magic feels impossible!
"Please..."
I can't overcome this alone. I can't do this alone!
"P-please... somepony please help me!"
...
Drowning in her emotions as she was, she completely missed the notification informing her of two identified Class-C ponies on their way in.
A few blocks away from where they'd arrived in the district, Echo had led them to a specific alley.
There were two ponies already there. One of them was just starting to wake up, moaning dazedly, and the other was failing to remove a knife that was pinning her tail hairs to the ground. The latter looked up, her eyes widening upon seeing Coffee. "I-it isn't what it looks like, Officer! I swear!" she blurted out, struggling to get the stallion off of her.
"I don't care," Coffee informed her sternly. "We're carrying out an investigation, and I don't have time to be sidetracked. Either help us or get out. And keep your hooves clean, or you'll be hearing from me again."
Drama magicked the knife free of the ground. The thuggish mare didn't bother retrieving it, instead grabbing the stallion and dragging him out of the alley. "Shameful," she said disapprovingly as she watched them go. "They couldn't at least have waited until they were behind closed doors?"
"It really wasn't what it looked like," Coffee admitted, having spotted the stallion's injuries during the brief exchange, "but more on that another time. Echo, where'd you go?"
The cat had kept going while the pair was sidetracked by the thugs. He meowed and got their attention from the top of some stairs part-way down the alley.
Coffee nodded as they got closer, seeing signs posted on or near several doors that showed which establishments they belonged to. She frowned as she took note of some graffiti beneath the stairs that read 'R.I.P. Moissanite'. "How much do you want to bet that Illudere deliberately chose this location for irony's sake?"
"What do you mean?" Drama wondered. "Where are we?"
"We're---"
A familiar light humming and the shifting of air interrupted her, bringing her to a surprised halt. Two flying drones of the type that had accosted Coffee around a week before emerged from hiding places outside their line of sight. The Magiflies zeroed in on them, ready to fire.
If it had been her alone against those two, Coffee would've had some confidence in her ability to fight them. She'd had prior experience against these drones, and information on how to destroy them had been passed along from the authorities in Diarchs. However, Coffee was escorting somepony who probably never had to deal with genuine danger. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Drama taking several fearful steps backward. "Ms. Heart, run---!"
Her words were smothered by an angry snarl. Echo didn't know what those weird flying things were or why the ponies were afraid of them, but he knew enough to figure out that they weren't friends. That in turn meant that they weren't helping him rescue the crier. Gathering his wits and his strength, he took a flying leap from his perch at the nearest drone.
Echo's aim was perfect. The Magifly he landed on tilted sharply, unable to compensate for the unexpected weight of a Mane Coon dropping onto it. With its aim thrown off, its shot struck the other drone instead and blasted it apart.
...Wha... what's that noise? Did something explode?
What's this in my eyes? 'Hunter'? When did I... never mind. What does it do?
...I can see through walls by shutting off one eye? ...More than that, I can see the drones. They're jittery... they must've heard the explosion, too. But what caused it?...
A house cat? ...A pony police officer... Coffee-and-Cream? ... ...?! A gasp. DRAMA HEART?!
The Magifly struggled to fling Echo off of itself, wings flapping madly and its body rotating every which way. Hissing and yowling, Echo in turn did his best to keep his purchase on the drone. His claws scrambled uselessly against the metal as he tried to do whatever he could to inconvenience it.
He lasted long enough for Coffee and Drama to get their wits about them, the two having been stunned into open-mouthed silence at his attack for a short time. "Ms. Heart, you know any self-defense spells?" the officer inquired urgently.
"Well, yes..."
"Use it," Coffee ordered. "I'll catch the cat!"
Drama didn't need encouragement: her horn was already lit up. "Echo, let go!"
On the verge of losing his grip anyway, he did what he was told. Coffee's charge was properly timed, and Echo landed squarely on her back as she galloped past the stairs.
Before the Magifly could re-orient itself, a magical tendril whipped out and swatted it down into the ground, crushing it. Drama's strike was quick and violent enough that one of the wings snapped off cleanly on impact, but otherwise there was barely anything to salvage.
Coffee drifted to a stop and turned around. Drama was already trotting to meet her, snorting disdainfully at the wreckage as she passed it. "That's what you call a self-defense spell? I was half-expecting you to fire a beam of some kind," Coffee commented wryly.
"Not my style, and it's too cost-intensive." Drama reached out to give Echo a light nudge, smiling thankfully. "You're definitely Gray's cat, alright. Thanks for the save, little dearie."
Though they had no way of knowing it, Echo's answering "mrrr" was meant to correct them and tell them that he wasn't Gray's cat: rather, Gray was his pony. He accepted the praise anyway.
One of Coffee's hooves went to her radio. "MRPD, this is Officer Coffee-and-Cream. We've tracked Leviathan to Bridleway, and we're currently located in the alley behind the Golden Bell. We just finished fighting off two of those Magiflies, but I have reason to believe that there's more waiting for us in the building. Requesting backup. Over."
-"Thanks for the heads-up, Coffee. We'll get a squad to your position shortly. Be careful back there. It's been years, but we still don't know what killed Moissanite."-
Echo jumped off Coffee's back, an action she ignored in favor of ending the call. "Got it. We're going in."
Drama had a question to ask once the radio was switched off. "You called them 'Magiflies'. Have you seen these before?"
"Once, during the Police breakout," Coffee told her. Her ears twitched at a harmonica coming from an establishment opposite the Golden Bell, and for a moment she wondered why nopony was hearing what was happening here. Do they even care as long as it doesn't disturb their lives? "It helps that we got some intel recently on how best to fight them should we encounter them again."
"So... they're robots?"
"Of a sort, though they lean closer to magic than science. 60-40." Coffee started up the steps, when Drama and Echo following. "I noticed they'd ignored Echo in favor of us at first. That tells me that they have some sort of intelligence and perspective. Confirms what those scientists told us."
Drama hummed in thought. "Makes me wonder if illusions would work on them. If they do, I could misdirect them while you attack them, maybe?"
"Wouldn't hurt to try," Coffee decided. She frowned as a thornier issue came to light at the top of the stairs. "Of course, we still have to get through this door." She tapped the metal, listening to the sound it made. "Steel, at a guess. Assuming this padlock isn't the only lock, I don't think I can bust it down myself without either breaking my legs or tiring myself out. Any thoughts on this, Ms. Heart?"
This issue was considered in silence for a short time. While Drama was aware of Alexandrite putting the property up for sale and that the Golden Bell still hosted small-scale events for now, she didn't know that there was a janitor on-site who could have helped them approach the problem from a less destructive angle. Instead, being a mare whose chosen occupation relied heavily on creativity, that was the tack she opted to take. "Levi's going to have more of those things guarding her, right?"
"Undoubtedly."
"And based on how that one Magifly was destroyed, they have projectile attacks, right?"
"Yes."
Drama's smile started off saying 'this might work'. It ended saying 'you know they're in trouble plenty'. Carefully, she started edging backwards down the stairs. "We might want to get off the landing. You too, Echo. If illusions do in fact work on them, then this will get a mite explosive, oh yes it will."
Confused, Coffee turned towards Echo to see if he knew what was happening. She wasn't sure whether to chastise herself for doing so, or to be surprised that she could see obvious confusion on his face. Deciding on both, she followed Drama's lead and retreated. Echo charged past them, beating them both down the steps.
Drama's horn shone, and Burning Salamandra cackled.
What's Drama doing here?! She needs to get away! It's not safe here!
They're going down the stairs. What does she have planned?
Wait. Why is she laughing?
And why are the mechaniloids attacking the door?!
The first indication that Drama's plan--whatever it was--had worked were the loud banging noises as something battered at the door, shaking it. The next was the middle of it starting to glow white as the metal slowly buckled and warped. Coffee watched quietly with wide eyes, not wanting to interrupt the process.
A small part of her was envious at Drama and Echo, while another was disappointed in herself. The cat and Ms. Heart have pulled their weight trying to help Leviathan out. What have I done this evening besides prove Illudere was responsible for this? ...I suppose there's nothing that covered magitech being turned against ponies at the academy, but what kind of excuse is that?
The glow around Drama's horn dissipated, and the drones' attacks stopped a few seconds later. "There," she decided with a satisfied smile. "The door should be weak enough that we can both punch through it now."
The ponies walked back upstairs, while Echo decided to stay behind. "For the record, Ms. Heart..." Coffee said calmly because-she-totally-wasn't-nervous, "I think you're a monster."
Drama giggled. "You're really sweet, but you're not my type. And I'm already married to my job anyway."
Coffee wiped off a bead of sweat that was sliding towards her muzzle. "That's what you got out of that?"
"All I did was place an overlay of Leviathan across the door. It's the same trick I use to make it look like monsters are appearing during my plays. The props are the mattresses, and the illusions are the blankets." She giggled again. "A sharp eye can see the illusion for what it truly is, but apparently whatever's behind that door are complete dullards."
"I think I'm learning more about magic tonight than I ever did in school. I don't know if that says more about you than it does my teachers or not," Coffee griped. "Anyway, it's only a matter of time before somepony..." She turned and glared at the block as a whole as she spoke that last word. Only that blasted harmonica answered her. "...gets off their tail and investigates back here. Let's get in there and get our friend back."
Drama let go of her levity, bracing herself. "So, on three, then?"
"On three. And be ready with your spellcasting, alright? This has to be quick. One... two... three!"
Coffee whirled and kicked out with all of her strength. Drama manifested another tendril and whipped it against the damaged metal. The combined force of both strikes finished what the drones had unintentionally started, breaking the door off of its hinges and shattering the clasp that held the padlock in place. Released, the door fell inwards.
They broke through? They actually broke through! I've got to help them!
But I can't...
Leviathan, they are your allies! Help them!
I...
Help... them!
...
PLEASE!
All of the drones in that part of the hall had gathered around the door, fooled by Drama into thinking that the entity they had been tasked with guarding was right there. Most had drifted back to their assigned locations, but a few lingered.
Those few didn't react in time when the heavy door fell into the hallway, pinning them to the floor. The drones that had moved out of range spun around to assess the incoming threat.
"Hiya, boys!"
As Drama had surmised, none of the drones were very smart. The instructions their limited intelligences received told them that they were to attack Leviathan should she leave the abandoned apartment she'd been placed in, and to prioritize her over all other targets.
"Well, I don't know if 'boys' is the proper term..."
So when they registered what appeared to be Leviathan standing in the middle of the hallway, greeting them with a cheery demeanor and a wave, the groups at both ends charged the illusion and attacked as one. The Magiflies' shots ripped through, hitting walls and other Magiflies. The Evisceragers swiped their claws through it to no effect. The oh-so-creatively-named Sapphiders tried to jump on it repeatedly, only to pass through, and several of them became victims of friendly fire.
"But that's besides the point! I'm standing here waving at you, so what are you going to do about it?"
While they were busy, Coffee walked up to the steel door, pushed it up with a grunt, then slammed it back down to crush those drones that were trapped beneath it. She emitted a startled cry when one of the missed shots came too close to hitting her, deciding to backtrack to the landing. "And what sort of mattress did you use for that?"
"The open air, silly," Drama replied with a chuckle. She didn't enter the building, instead staying on the landing. "It's a mattress, too. Not a very stable mattress, but still a---"
"SHREEE!"
"---AAAH!" Drama cut herself off with a scream. She collapsed and covered her ears with her hooves, her earlier fear returning. "What in Tartarus was that?!"
Coffee had almost jolted herself off the landing when she'd heard the noise. Somewhere downstairs she could hear Echo voicing a protest of his own. To her, that strange cry almost sounded like an angry pig squeal on helium, filtered through sheet metal before being split with a razor. Her ears pricked as she heard a string of angry curses from somewhere in the building: the real Leviathan was close by.
A second later, a volley of six magic shots ripped through the hallway at a higher speed than Coffee recalled seeing from the Magiflies. They shredded the remaining drones in their path without slowing down, only stopping when they hit the wall behind the broken door. There they detonated, blasting out the wall and shaking that end of the building.
Coffee had a split second's worth of satisfaction on hearing that harmonica finally stop, but that was it. Holding one foreleg near her muzzle to prevent herself from inhaling any smoke, she leaned in and risked a look into the hallway.
The Magiflies, the Evisceragers, and the Sapphiders had all been destroyed, if not by each other than by the hulking newcomer at the far end. Drama's illusion was gone, taken down when the shrill cry had spooked her.
The name for this odd beast wasn't included the intel that the Diarchs authorities had procured from the arrested scientists, so Coffee suspected that this had been produced elsewhere. Its design reminded her of a floating helmet with spikes jutting out of the top. A visor was in the middle of what passed for its face, a green light shifting from side to side. A barrel attached to its underside called to mind what the MRPD had recovered of Glintlock's automatic crossbow. The drone had been damaged by a few stray shots, but it was still functional.
And to her horror, it was floating down the hall towards them. With a surge of strength and a desperate cry, Coffee grabbed the fallen door and heaved it down the hall in an attempt to slow it down.
"SHREEE!"
The screechy machine's second volley struck the door, dissipating it in a burst of shrapnel. Coffee had enough sense to duck back out of the way as some of the shrapnel passed through the area where her ears had been, passing into the darkened room behind the destroyed wall. The rest of it was left embedded in the walls and floor with a rapid-fire series of thuds.
"Officer!" Drama alerted her, something floating before her. "Try throwing this! Aim for the light!"
Coffee recognized the floating object as the knife that the thugs had left behind. Well, I'm no expert with this, but I'm not seeing any other options! Taking the knife, she leaned out of cover and whipped it down the hall.
Her aim wasn't perfect, but the sizeable visor allowed for plenty of leeway. The blade lodged in the glass and spiderwebbed the visor with cracks, hampering its vision. The drone shrieked again, trying to find its target to no avail.
"WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?!"
Coffee and Drama's ears perked up---
A door next to the drone shattered to pieces, and an icy wave that spanned the height of the hall carved halfway through the metal. In a snap, the drone was enshrouded inside and out with a thick layer of ice. The weight of the ice and the sudden freezing over of its internal runes made the drone drop to the floor with a thump. A second ice wave struck it, and the drone splintered and collapsed into a hundred chunks.
As the hall fell silent, a breath left Coffee that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Too close, she thought. This encounter could have been the end of us right there. Did she even need rescuing after all?
A bipedal figure exited the room she had attacked out of, stepping around the pile of frozen debris... and all it took was a single look for Coffee to determine that yes, she did.
...
...
Drama too could tell that something was dreadfully wrong. Leviathan had been left with her jumpsuit and basic body armor, such as it was, but nothing else. Nothing was left of the awkward yet confident fighter they were familiar with. Only the pain that comes with emotional turmoil was present in her expression, with a side order of hyperventilation and dwindling anger. "Fairy, dearie?" the showmare inquired tentatively. "What's wrong?"
The once-proud warrior didn't say anything at first. For a short while she just stared at the two of them intently, as if trying to convince herself that they were alive. When she walked towards them, her steps were unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with her lack of footwear. The shrapnel in the floor crunched beneath her feet: they could pierce her suit's fabric and her fake skin, but not the ceratanium beneath. Even then she should have felt some pain, but she never even winced.
When she got close enough, Drama reached out with a tendril and wrapped it around one of Leviathan's hands for support. Together, the three of them descended the stairs back down to the alley proper. Nearby, Echo emerged from hiding and sat up straight as he got his first look at the not-pony he had helped locate.
At one end of the alley, the aged janitor who had been knocked off his hooves by Leviathan's scream galloped in. He had initially passed off the scream as him just hearing things next door, but he had been subsequently alerted by all of the screeching and violence. He slowed down to a stop, however, when he laid eyes on the solemn scene before him. He wisely kept his mouth closed as the group reached the bottom. None of those present paid him or those that followed after him any attention.
When Leviathan's feet touched the pavement, she stopped moving. She whispered, voice shaking: "Drama... I... I..."
Drama dissolved the tendril and turned to address her gently. "Please. Talk to me. What's wrong?"
Somewhere in Equestria, a metal gate rattled violently as it was battered by a storm's strong wind. Eventually it could take no more: the latch that held it shut was shaken loose, and it swung open all the way.
It wasn't with words that Leviathan released her emotions. She collapsed to her knees and did something so outlandish that Drama was taken off guard: she pulled her into her arms, clutched her like a life preserver, and wailed to one and all for the first time in her life.
...
...What the...? "Fairy," Drama whispered. For the lack of any other recourse, she reached up and tried to embrace her in return the best that she could. "You wouldn't hug me if I asked nicely. What in Equestria happened to you?"
Caught up in her anguish, Leviathan didn't answer coherently.
Trying to outwardly hide how she felt about what she was witnessing, Coffee switched on her radio. "MRPD, the Siren General is secure. I repeat, Leviathan has been found. Over."
-"Good work, Officer. What is that noise in the background?"
"That would be Leviathan crying, sir."
-"...Come again, Officer Coffee?"-
Coffee sighed quietly. "I am not clear on the details, sir. All I know is that we had to fight through a wave of those drones, the back of the Golden Bell has sustained structural damage, and Leviathan might be suffering a nervous breakdown." Her ears pricked up at some noises outside the alley. "Carriages have finally gotten here. We'll give you the full story at the station. Oh, and inform the investigators to tread cautiously. There's shrapnel and debris all over the place that will need cleaned up."
-"Confirmed, Officer."-
Coffee turned off the radio, muttering to herself. "Not looking forward to seeing what the fallout from this is going to be like." She approached Leviathan and placed a hoof on her arm. "Hey." She raised her voice a little to make herself heard over Leviathan's crying. "Hey."
The second attempt got her attention, and she lifted her head to meet her navigator's eyes. It was disconcerting to see how distraught she was without any tears, but she forced herself to dismiss that detail. She's as alive as we are. "We've got carriages waiting to take us back to the station. Are you good to go, General?"
Leviathan nodded minutely, still whimpering. "...H-how did you find me?"
Coffee smiled. "I'll tell you later. C'mon, Leviathan. Up and at 'em." She placed a hoof on her arm and added in a reassuring tone: "I don't know just what in Tartarus you've gone through tonight, General, but that doesn't matter. You've helped us. Let us help you."
It was clear she didn't want to let go at first, but Leviathan finally released Drama and stood up straight with a grunt. The unicorn did not do the same in return, getting lifted into the air as she continued to cling to her neck and shoulders. "...What?..."
"First, call me Sally. You've earned that right," Drama told her, sparking some surprise behind her eyes. "And two, you're worse off than when we first met. I'm not letting you go until I'm positive you're alright, and nothing you say or do will convince me otherwise."
Leviathan's soft laughter was sorrowful. "...I don't deserve any of you," she murmured as she brought up a hand to support her friend's weight.
Drama's eyes briefly dilated, and she flinched. "Ouch. Careful. I was clawed back there earlier."
"Oh. Sorry."
A meow reminded them that there was one more creature present. "Ah. Right. Before we go," Coffee said, smiling thankfully down at Echo, "I need to send this little guy home with a message." She raised a hoof, signalling one of the officers on their way into the alley. "Hey! Can we divert one of the carriages to Flower Row?"
Gray wasn't sure how long she'd spent on the floor, just staring at the door in the hopes that the police would come back with her family. An hour? Two? Four? Seven? She didn't know. All she knew was that she was too anxious and worried to sleep.
Her ears pricked as something approached the door. She heard it shake as something bumped it repeatedly, and she recognized Echo's request to be let in. Guess I'd better, she thought, pushing herself to her hooves even though she wanted to remain where she was. He gets mad if I don't answer right away.
Gray unlocked the door and opened it. Echo was there, as she knew he would be. "I'm happy you got home safe," she greeted him quietly so as not to disturb anypony. "Did your hunt go well?" Her eyes flicked towards his collar, noticing something white stuck in it. "...And how'd you get that paper stuck in your collar?"
"Mrrrr," Echo trilled, making a token effort at trying to work it loose before giving up.
Curious despite herself, Gray moved her head in and managed to pull the paper loose with her teeth. After Echo walked in, she shut and locked the door before going to the kitchen. There was enough illumination coming in through the window that her stellar night vision let her see what was hastily scrawled on the paper:
"QU: The SG has been found. She's in good hooves now. Give your cat something nice, he led us straight to her. --Off. C&C"
Gray read and re-read the message to make sure that she understood it correctly. "Did..." She gave Echo her full attention, surprised at how he had chosen to occupy his time. She'd always known he was intelligent, but she wasn't expecting this. "Did you really help the Police find Leviathan?"
Echo replied by way of a head-bump against her chin.
In spite of the seriousness of her situation, Gray was able to feel a measure of pride towards her pet. "You did good tonight, Echo," she complimented him lovingly as she petted him. "You did real good. Come on. I think a dish of your favorite canned food's in order."
...
Gray eventually returned to the position she'd been in since the Police had left. This time, the soft purring and eating noises from the kitchen were able to give her a measure of comfort and hope as she resumed her vigil.
...
...
...
...
...
...
Analyzing memories... ... ... ...
Scanning DNA. Please wait... ... ... ...
Partition found. Analysis of compatibility in progress. Reconstruction in progress. Priority set to "lowest".
Partition incomplete. Vital data unavailable. Unable to complete reconstruction. Process halted.
Information fragmented. Attempting to defragment. Please wait.
The entire trip to the station was a blur. All I can remember is Drama falling asleep on the way there. I needed to carry her into the station with me because her hooves were around my neck. They still are.
In the past, I would have questioned myself if I had given in to my emotions as easily as I did. As things stand, I don't care anymore.
I'm sitting on the floor in the break room at the MRPD, eating some Heartbreakers that the sleepy unicorn had been carrying (why are they so zesty?). Coffee is explaining what happened.
After Illudere's spell consumed me, one of our neighbors saw her leave and notified Drama. That leads to the first real bright spot: whether due to forgetfulness or something else, Illudere neglected to take my weapon with her.
Or at least it should be a bright spot. I should be happy to have the Javelin again. Right now, I'm just feeling hollow.
Drama volunteered to help Coffee, and they started an investigation beginning with her neighbor. From there, they tracked Illudere to the city's entertainment district. An unexpected third party showed up to help and led them straight to me, which I find amazing: how in the world did Gray's cat know how to find me? I wish I could ask him.
On an unrelated note, bits and pieces of old (recent?) memories are coalescing. I'm remembering a letter from the same pony who owned the building I was hidden in. Alexandrite had confessed that her husband's death left a deep mark on her psyche. That clipping I saw in the apartment confirmed where and how he was killed, so I know now she wasn't lying to me.
Why did Illudere choose to hide me there? Is there some sort of irony I'm missing? Or is there something deeper that I can't put together the way my mind is now?
I don't know. I don't care enough to try. I just want to go home.
Home... where? Neo Arcadia? Or Manehattan?
It was clear-cut a few days (centuries?) ago. Now... now I just...
Drama's whimpering to herself. I can see tears seeping past her closed eyelids. One of my arms lifts to hold her close, and my mind's not registering the action.
Why is she crying? She's not the one undergoing this trauma.
"...much everything," Coffee continues to explain. "I can only assume that after Illudere left you there, she met up with her co-conspirators to take part in the kidnapping."
Kidnapping? Who was kidnapped?
I must not have vocalized it: the conversation's going on without me. "We got word back from the K-9 unit while you were out, Coffee," an older pony tells her, sipping a hot beverage. I know I met the speaker at some point, but my memory's so messed up right now that I don't remember when. "Three of the kidnappers have been found. Would have been five, but the last two scared off the searchers and took off with their victims. I imagine the rest will probably do the same if they're smart."
Who was kidnapped?
"We'll just have to work from there. Where are the three located?" Coffee inquires.
She's still not hearing me. For that matter I can hear what they're saying to her, but it's not getting through to me. There's a perpetual fog there.
With more effort than it should be taking, my mouth opens enough for me to speak. "Who was kidnapped?"
Coffee does a double-take before looking like she's just eaten a very bitter snack. Has she realized something? "Oh... right. Five ponies were snatched all at once earlier this evening. One pegasus, one unicorn, and three earth ponies. That Gray Ghost pony's family. The culprits told her that she'd never see them again if she didn't turn herself over to them before noon tomorrow. ...Or noon today, perspective depending."
Gray Ghost. Hm. Name rings a bell, but where have I---
"Leviathan? I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. Could... you forgive me? ... ... Thank you. Do... do you want to be friends?"
---!
The first pony I talked to. The first one who wanted to be friends with me.
Her family... was kidnapped?
...
No.
I lost everything that other life gave me. I will not lose what I've gained in this one. For the sake of those that have showed me kindness, I will shoulder that loss and continue on even if it becomes too much for me to bear.
I'm on my feet in a flash, something that startles them. The effect is ruined when I stagger and almost fall: Drama's still clinging to me, throwing off my balance. "Not so fast there, lightning," the old staffer rebukes me. "You have your weapon back, but nothing else. We've got to figure out how to approach this."
"I can still fight," I protest, straightening. "I'm not helpless just because I've been samused out of my equipment!"
"General, you are a haphazard mess," he tells me firmly. "I don't need to see tears to know you've been distraught over something. Physically you're fine, but emotionally you've been a total wreck since you were pulled away from the Golden Bell. That's not helping your judgement."
...You know what? I've had enough. "Gray Ghost is my friend!" My voice is hitting a volume I normally don't use in conversation. I don't care. "I am not going to abandon her when she needs my help the most! Her family's been kidnapped, and you're asking me to stand aside?! No!"
They're staring wide-eyed at me. ...Aside from Drama, that is: somehow that didn't wake her up. "What happened?" Coffee asks.
"I... what?"
"From the time you left the Pyre to the time we found you." Coffee's cute when she's being stern, but then most ponies are cute anyway. One of her hooves taps me as she emphasizes each word. "It's time you told us. What. Happened. To. You?"
My heart feels like it's trying to support the entire world. My anger just... it's replaced by something I can't describe. My voice catches in my throat as I slide down the wall back to the floor. "I don't even know... even know where to begin," I whisper. "There's not enough time to tell it all. Not in the day, in the moon, in the year..."
"Then summarize it."
Both my hands drop. Any anger towards Illudere that tries to take form leaves me as quickly as it arrives. "I'd just left the Pyre. Two pegasi were next to me... Knight and... Gargoyle?... Magnum and Maverick. Couldn't remember their names... I'd jumped up onto a roof and disturbed a scraggly-looking pony. I apologized to her for bothering her. Her horn lights up. I wake up in my personal capsule back in Neo Arcadia and live my life as if nothing had happened."
They're visibly struggling to understand as I continue talking. "And before you ask, I have no recollection of being put to sleep at all. I was looking at her one moment, and the next I was back home. It was as if no time had passed at all. And once I was in Neo Arcadia, I had no memories of my time here whatsoever. None."
Coffee has a hoof on her chin while the old pony is still trying to come to terms. "That would explain how Illudere captured you. Miss Heart mentioned that her illusions were on the same level as her own."
The same level as... I look down at the snoozing pony occupying most of my vision. Wait, does Drama know her somehow? I pose that question to those listening.
"She said that they were business rivals in Baltimare for a little while," Coffee confirms. "She also clarified some information that wasn't in Illudere's dossier. According to her, what got her placed in an asylum involved hospitalizing one of those trying to rehabilitate her. Probably through one of those spells of hers, but unless somepony over there was careless with the restriction rings..."
"Might've even been the same spell she used on me, for all we know," I murmur. "Who knows what kind of life that other pony's leading right now? Maybe something like the one I led? Worthwhile work, unexpected love..."
"I wonder how long those things last," Coffee mutters wonderingly. "How long were you subjected to that spell?"
"From my perspective, or yours?"
She shrugs, probably not seeing a difference. "Either."
"Two hundred and thirty-one years."
From what I can see past Drama's straightening mane (it was messier a few minutes ago, what even), both ponies have adopted that same wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare. "Two-huh-huh-hundred---!" Coffee manages to stammer.
"Two hundred and thirty one years," I repeat. "Every day of that life was as real to me as every day of this life is real to you. It was as fulfilling as life could get. Everything I'd set out to do I accomplished. I realized I loved someone with all of my heart, and I followed through on it on two different occasions. The world reached the highest point it had achieved in centuries, and I was an eyewitness to it all. I eventually passed away quietly from system failure on an isolated beach, happy with how my life had turned out... and the next thing I knew, I'd woken up having punched a hole in somepony's wall."
Nopony replies, and I take that as permission to go on. My voice is shaking, and I can't stop it. "It was all a lie. It was all a lie! Everything! Yanked away! Just like that... gone! I had everything, and now I have next to nothing! I can't even begin to tell you how serious that is! I've got memories and terminology criss-crossing every which way! I don't know if I want to go home anymore no thanks to that insane imagery!"
They're still silent. Yes. I figured they wouldn't have anything to say to that.
"Check..."
Drama? ...No... she told me to call her Sally, didn't she?
I look down at her. My limpet's eyes are still shut tight... no, one of them is open just a crack. I can't see her eye past a line of cloudy tears, but it's open. "Check my bags," she tiredly utters. "Somethin' else..."
Her bags? I thought I already did. That's how I found the candy. "Officer, could you...?"
Coffee's frowning, mulling over something... what it is, I don't know. She obligingly tugs open one of the pockets, reaches inside, and pulls out a piece of paper oh you've got to be kidding me. Where was that when I was looking through the bags? "Here," she says as she places it in my hand. "I hope that's what she's talking about."
There's writing on it, but I'm not seeing it clearly. Let's see, unfolding the paper... What's this childish scrawl on the other side? This isn't Sally's, is it?
...No, it's not. It's somepony else's.
---
"Dear Laveathin, don't give up! You're a good Reproid! You can do better! Go home and be a hero! --- Butterscotch"
---
"..."
I read the message to myself. Twice. Four times. Eight.
Is this for real? When did I get this? "Ha... haha..."
There's a delay before my internal inquiry is answered. Even my own systems are having trouble believing it. A hero? Foals and their big imaginations...
I'm having the strangest mental image of a little colt trying to wear my helmet and pretending he's a turtle. "Haha... hahaha..."
I turn the paper around to read the back. It's a note from a pony called Cotton Ball thanking me for capturing criminals. "There may be plenty of crooks on the city streets, but because of your efforts there are seven less roaming about. I wish you the best in your search for a way home. With sincere gratitude..."
"Ah-hahaha..."
I'm remembering one of the kindest individuals I've ever met, whether human or pony, give me encouragement at a later time. I'm wishing I could recall her name. "You go and get yourself home, dear. Be the Guardian you were meant to be."
"Kyaha... kyahahaha..."
The chain of memories continues: the pony holding on tightly to me giving me advice that I never thought would apply to me. "You'd be surprised just how much impact words can have on someone. Never underestimate what they can do..."
Sally was right all along. I hadn't thought holding on to that letter would be worth anything.
"Kyahahahaha..."
Now... it feels like one of the most precious things in the world.
My mind fog is clearing up. Not much, just raising the visibility from zero meters to five, but it's enough for me to admit that the old desk jockey is right. If I try to fight right now, any victories I attain will be costly, if I get any at all.
But as some of my earlier anger at Illudere returns and colors my feelings, an idea takes shape. I fold up the letter and return it to Sally's saddlebags, then stand up (carefully this time). "I believe I might have a way to mess up the kidnappers' plans without having to fight them tonight," I say, a certain item I own returning to its rightful place in my memory. "But to do that, I'll have to call it a night. Can I bother the Department for a lift back to the Pyre?"
...
...
"Quick question if you're up for it," Coffee asks me before I leave. "What does 'samused' mean? I've never heard that word before."
Now's not really the time, but I guess I could... "It's used to describe what happens when a warrior or adventurer accumulates a stockpile of equipment and supplies that could help them in the long term, then somehow loses them all before their next adventure for any reason."
"Please, say something! Anything! Why's there smoke everywhere? What happened to the village? What happened to my home?!"
"..."
"What's with those looks? Say something! One of you PLEASE SAY SOMETHING!"
"..."
"AAGRAAAHHH! You know what, fine! If you're not going to talk to me, then logically there's no reason for me to be here anymore! I'm going to find my place in the world, because it sure as blazes isn't around here! GOOD-BYE!"
"..."
-"Agent #6, wake up. ...Wake. Up."-
Urged on by the voice, Calico was roused out of an uneasy sleep. She fumbled around for her headset, mumbling the entire time. When she finally grabbed it, she held it up to her ear instead of securing it on her head. "Ignition, why in Tartarus?" she sleepily complained.
-"Agents #8 and #9 have just contacted me,"- Ignition coldly explained, uncaring for the kirin's grumpy mood. -"Your positions have been compromised. The Royal Police has discovered your locations."
Calico perked up at this, or at least tried. Her face looked alarmed while her brain was still rooting around for caffeine. "How the who now?"
-"Their K9 unit was able to track down all of you from Flower Row. Take your captive and proceed to the Maximum Millions Shopping Center immediately. Drone support is en route, but make sure you are not seen. I will inform #5 and #7."-
Hearing that name was the shot of caffeine her brain needed. The facility was the brainchild of somepony who got the bright idea to combine multiple markets and shops---clothing, jewelry, toys, music, food stalls, even an amusement park ride or two---within one four-story building. When finished, it would be Calico's greatest dream come true: a paradise for bargain hunters and those who liked to shop solely for the sake of shopping. The idea of touring the facility before everything was finished setting up made her grin with delight, and the fact that the building's owner was in league with Mocha and his lineage was pure gravy. "Yes, sir!" she crowed.
The transmission ended. Calico properly secured the headset and gave herself a once-over to reassure herself that she was still wearing her custom armor. She retrieved her boomerangs and hitched them to her suit's belt, then jumped off her bed and turned her attention to her captive. "You're coming with me, kid," she told her as she removed the ropes that kept her bound, trying to sound like she wouldn't brook any nonsense. "If you need to use the facilities before we go, make it snappy."
The child stared at her for several long seconds, her impassive eyes remaining locked on as they had been for hours. Despite the front she presented, Calico was beginning to worry. From the moment the child was yanked up until now, she had been completely quiet. No complaints, no yelling, and neither a single word spoken nor noise emitted. It was just... eyes.
As impossible as it sounded, she was beginning to believe that the child had somehow been to her homeland and had gotten Silenced like the rest of Calico's family and friends. It never occurred to her that Fiver was being quiet entirely by choice.
Finally the filly got up and slowly shuffled into a small bathroom, continuing to stare at her all the while. Once the door was closed, her captor breathed a soft sigh of relief.
Despite outward appearances and her role in her fellow agents' breakout, Calico still possessed the kindness that was inherent to her race. She hardly ever kept everything she purchased, instead giving them discreetly to those who needed them more than she did. And she didn't like the idea of explicitly harming or mistreating others, least of all children. As long as she was in charge of this one, she was going to make sure that the little filly wasn't traumatized when the time came to release her.
-Many eyes staring at her silently, hearing out her complaints without answering verbally, judging her without expressing themselves outwardly, her family and friends not supporting her...-
Calico's mood sunk. "If she doesn't traumatize me first," she whispered to the air.
Her headset buzzed, and Ignition spoke again. -"Are you still there, Agent #6?"-
"Yes," she answered, concerned. "Is something wrong?"
-"Bad news from Agent #5,"- Ignition growled. -"Leviathan's awake. And to make matters worse, our bluff has been called."-
Calico inhaled sharply and started to curse, but caught herself in time. She didn't want the filly in the bathroom to overhear her. "How?"
-"Unclear. #5 claims that she had somehow felt the General's awakening some time ago, but opted not to notify us until now. She received a message via a dragonfire candle warning her that if the Ghost's family was harmed in any way, shape or form, Leviathan would stop holding back."-
"I guess that spell of Illudere's wasn't all it was cracked up to be," Calico snarled. Her anger at these sudden turns of events spiked, but she hurriedly put the clamps on it before it could trigger anything destructive. "Why did Leviathan wake up when that comatose pony didn't?"
-"Unknown at this time. Have you left the premises yet?"-
"Not yet, Ignity. Just gotta wait for---" The sounds of running water reached her. "There we go. By the way, is the equipment still secure?"
-"Until the safe can be transported to Mocha HQ, it's as secure as we can make it. Don't assume that Leviathan's helpless without it: if she confronts you in the next few days, don't play around and take her out immediately. And above all else, do not harm the child. Clear?"-
I wasn't going to anyway. "Clear, Ignition." Calico smiled. "Take care, okay? Kiss, kiss!"
-"Say that to me again, and I'm reducing your rations to an eighth,"- Ignition warned her in all seriousness, the signal cutting itself off a moment later.
Calico didn't pay the warning any mind, giggling as she grabbed her cloak off of a hook. He's such a kidder. "We're burning moonlight, kid. Get your tail out of there and let's go!"
...
This kirin was many things. She was an outcast and wanderer, having left her home to fulfill her every desire. She was a thief, unintentional or not. She was overly selfish, focusing heavily on her own needs and wants. Her crush on Ignition was misguided and unrequited. At the same time, her desire for justice was strong. She was willing to be friendly even without anything to gain from it. Her capacity for kindness was present and in force.
In the end, her many flaws and facets made her a deluded Calico.
A letter materialized next to Gray in a burst of flame, startling her. She jumped to her hooves, turning every which way before she realized that she'd been spooked by a simple sheet of paper. "Not my night," she sighed as she calmed down, taking the paper with her into the kitchen to see what was written on it.
"The noon deadline is a farce. Their bluff has been called: they know I'm awake and alive, and they will not act against you as long as I am.
If you are still up, please get some rest and meet us at the Pyre at nine in the morning. I am sorry for reneging on my prior stance, but circumstances have changed: I am in no condition to fight physically, mentally or emotionally right now. I feel that it's only if we work together that we can end these crises we're undergoing.
Please. I need your help.
Your friend, Leviathan"
Gray set the letter down, conflicted. Filled with worry for her loved ones, she was loathe to take a chance on the kidnappers' threat being a sham. There was little that mattered more to her right now than waiting for the Police to return with good news and five healthy ponies.
At the same time, there was obviously something that was troubling Leviathan that Gray didn't understand. She couldn't just leave her, either. She turned towards the door out of the apartment, then indecisively back towards the letter.
Then, unbidden, a thought crossed her mind. At the end of the day, the question is: how much do you trust that your friend is telling the truth?
...
...
...
Gray peeked into the living room where Echo, his belly full and his muscles tired, was stretched out at his favorite sleeping spot. Deciding that she wouldn't let his work go to waste, she walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and undergo her typical preparations for a night's sleep.
All five of First Quarter's agents escaped. Alerted to the presence of the K9 unit, they took off once again across the city with their airborne drones covering their tracks. Unable to finish their assignment, the Police were left with no choice but to retreat. At the end of the night, Gray's family was still in danger.
Leviathan and Drama Heart were taken back to the Pyre, where the latter was woken up one more time. With her help, Levi quickly composed two messages: a loud and clear warning to Illudere indicating that she should tread carefully, and a plea for assistance to Gray. Once both messages were dragonfired off to their recipients (with Drama sending the warning to her old rival herself), the both of them well-deservedly retired for the night.
The revelation that Leviathan had awakened from Illudere's spell and was straight-up peeved put a damper on the agents' spirits. Once all of the agents had arrived at their new hiding places, Ignition confirmed to them that their bluff had been called: even if Gray didn't turn up at noon, Quarter's mandate that civilians were not to be harmed remained active. The rest of the plan was still in motion, however: if the Ghost's family was to be rescued or otherwise released, the agents would need to be confronted directly, deadline or no deadline.
At the back of the Golden Bell, the Police's cleanup team finished disposing of all of the shrapnel and debris. An investigation of the apartment turned up the items that Leviathan had already discovered, alongside several that she'd been too stressed to look for. In addition, a hidden alcove was located in the wall behind where the screechy drone had been stationed. Within that room was the most secure safe the team had ever encountered, with nopony able to access its contents regardless of their skill sets. Attempts at removing the safe from the floor ended when one of the specialists got magically repelled out of the alcove, so they opted to keep tabs on it for the moment.
Arrangements were also made to repair the building, but in the meantime they had no choice but to have a tarp hung over the back entrance.
By sunrise, a letter detailing what had happened at the Golden Bell was sent to Alexandrite in Las Pegasus. No one at the MRPD knew where she had taken off to, and thus they had to inquire at the Manehattan Minutes' offices as to her location. Alexandrite still owned the property, so they felt she deserved to know about recent events.
A partial report detailing the incident, including the story given by Leviathan as to what had happened to her, was provided to the Minutes. It was too late for the report to be publicized in that morning's edition, but those present promised the Police that it would be printed as soon as feasibly possible. Those that were antagonizing Levi and Gray were likely to take advantage of the new information somehow, but it was still the quickest way to let the city know that they were in need of help.
"Closed today due to personal circumstances. We hope to see you again soon! -- L. and Salamandra
To our remodelers, ring the doorbell when you arrive and one of us will let you in."
The sign on the Pyre's doors didn't stop Gray when she arrived the following morning, but not because she couldn't read. She took wing and tapped on one of the upstairs windows a few times, this time remembering not to fly face first into it.
First the blinds, then the window opened up. "Come on in," Drama hissed, walking away from the window. "And keep it quiet for now. Fairy's still asleep."
Gray flew inside, closing the window upon landing. "She must really be out of it," she mused. "Normally she's up earlier, isn't she?"
"She had a rough go of it last night," Drama told her, keeping her voice low. She opened her bedroom door and gestured inside.
Gray solemnly surveyed the room. As stated, Leviathan was fast asleep in Drama's bed. Her ankles and feet stuck out over the edge of the mattress, requiring a box to keep them propped up and an extra blanket to keep them covered. Her lips were set in a troubled frown, and her eyebrows were furrowed in such a way that showed something was still tormenting her. "What happened?"
...
...
Gray's tail was lashing by the time Drama finished giving her the rundown on what Leviathan had experienced. The both of them had moved the discussion to the kitchen to keep from disturbing the Pyre's long-term guest. "That's not right," she whispered, her voice a hair's breadth away from snapping. "That just isn't right."
"I have an idea of what spell Illudere used, but part of me doesn't want to believe it." In-between sentences, Drama was nibbling on a slice of bread that was smeared with pear jam, having finally decided to give it a try. "Sugarplum might have taken our rivalry too seriously, but she used to be a decent pony. I would've thought she was better than to try learning a spell that dangerous just to try and one-up me."
"Unless it was something she learned after she went off the deep end," Gray suggested.
"I doubt it," Drama said, shaking her head. "There's too many similarities to that incident that landed her in isolation. The only thing that's different is that Leviathan woke up while the first victim still hasn't. And she couldn't have learned it while she was in rehab. Everypony would've been watching her like hawks."
"And isn't that a question for the ages," Gray wondered. "The spell obviously worked, and they were blatantly trying to render her comatose. How did she wake up early?"
Drama finished her snack and magicked her plate into the sink without looking. "That's one I don't have an answer for. Maybe it's tied to her mind being mechanical, or something? I don't know."
Before Gray could answer, dragon-like laughter went off close by. Drama trotted out of the kitchen for the exit. "Probably Mortar & Son. I'll be back in a minute."
...
It took closer to three minutes for Drama to return, and she was carrying something in her magic. "Both the remodelers and the mail," she commented. "There's a few letters here for Fairy."
"Who from, Sally?" Gray asked. "Just random fan-slash-hate mail?"
"That's the strange part." Drama placed the envelopes on the table, looking as puzzled as she sounded. "Both of the letters here are from Ponyville. I think this is the first batch of mail she's gotten from outside the city, not counting the Princess's."
We'll give those to her when she wakes up. "What about the remodelers? What do they still need to do?"
"They just have to install the new door and clean up any remaining debris, and that shouldn't take very long. I've already arranged for somepony to come in later and put down new carpeting. Also, you're off the hook."
Gray's tail twitched. "Sally, if you think I'm crazy, just say so."
Drama giggled. "No, silly pony. I mean that you and Ebony don't have to work for me anymore if you don't want to. Making you work with your current circumstances being what they are is entirely poor form."
...Oh. Right. "Um, thanks? I guess?"
Drama started to say "you're welcome", but an off-hoof look at a clock told her what time it was. She decided that it was time for the delay to end. "It's well past the agreed time. I think we've let her sleep long enough. Gray, do what you do best."
Gray climbed down out of her chair and trotted towards the bedroom. "One wake-up call, coming right up."
Where am I? How did I get here? Why is there a group of alligator Reploid clones clustered around a gate clamoring to reach me? And why do they all have those odd little sunglasses?
There's pressure on my chest and stomach. My surroundings are dissolving. The dream has ended. The emptiness returns.
I'll be honest: I don't feel like getting up. I don't want to open my eyes. I'm afraid of what I'm going to see. But that child wants me to go home and be a hero, so I guess I must. No point in delaying the inevitable.
There's something brushing against my chin and left cheek. Feels like sandpaper. I didn't fall asleep with any, so wha...?
With some effort, my eyelids pry themselves open---
Yellow-green irises right in my face. "Good morning," a familiar voice greets me.
4-3-2-1 WHY IN BLUE BLAZES
It takes a second for me to realize that I'd just thrown my first pony friend off of me and across the room, or tried to; I couldn't get much leverage from my position, so she didn't make it to the wall. She's now hovering over me like nothing had happened, wings slowly flapping. It takes me another second to realize that I'm screaming her name. "GRAY! Don't you ever do that again!"
That face of genuine confusion, seriously. "Do what again?"
Before my CPU can tell my body to act differently, I'm lunging out of bed and grabbing Gray out of the air, holding her against me. That awful noise is threatening to escape me again. "Gray... Gray, I'm sor---"
She silences me by bumping her forehead against my chin. "I got the story from Sally," she assures me gently. "You don't have to say a thing." The gentleness gets swapped out with some irritation. "Now would you mind letting me go? You're squeezing my ribs."
Chastised, I release her. She lands on the floor and gestures for me to follow her. "Let's take this to the living room," she says. "We need to talk."
I don't know if I want to, but she takes one of the blankets in her teeth and drags it off of me. Doesn't look like I have much choice. And she is right: I did ask for her help.
Drama's running one of her records. It's not the relaxing one, but the volume's low enough that it's just background noise. She's sitting on the couch behind me, while Gray's draped herself across my legs.
I'm getting some updates that I hadn't gotten at the police station. Or maybe I did get them, and I just don't recall them. I don't know, and I'm having trouble caring.
Those two what's-their-names ... alright, Maverick and Magnum. Why am I having so much trouble remembering that... anyway, those two were fooled by the same illusion that tricked me into thinking Illudere was a different pony. That billboard that I thought was there but had vanished was still present, and they'd crashed into it. They were taken to the hospital, probably in case of a concussion.
They should be fine, if they're as hard-headed as Gray. I don't feel like considering if that's a common trait for pegasi.
"Before we get much farther, you did get some mail this morning," Drama's telling me, hoofing over a few envelopes. "Not much. Just a few letters from Ponyville of all places. You feel up to looking at them?"
If it helps my mood any. Feels like it's been shifting from angry to sad to down in the dumps since I woke up from that illusion. This sort of thing shouldn't be happening to me, and yet it is.
The first envelope has the return address and destination in very rough, somewhat blocky writing. It's not so bad that it could be mistaken for a child's, but there's no attempt at feigning proper handwriting (hoofwriting?). The letter within is the same, and---
Oh.
...
Howdy, Levy-however your name's spelled.
I don't normally pay attention to what goes on over there. None of my business, and I have enough on my plate without worrying about life outside of Ponyville. But the family has a few relatives in Manehattan, and they wrote us that you did one of them a big favor recently. It didn't seem right not to thank you for your effort.
You did mighty fine by us, helping little Babs Seed like you did. First getting her out of danger and saving her life, then finding her somepony who wouldn't mock her for not having a Cutie Mark? That was right nice of you. A lot of ponies out there probably wouldn't go out of their way, from what I recall of the place.
Anyhoo, on behalf of the Apple family, thank you. You get yourself back home, you hear? We'll be rooting for you.
Applejack
...
Gray whistles as I put the letter down, reflecting my own surprise. "The Apple clan? I've heard of them," she comments. "They're one of Equestria's big-name fruit producers. They've got branches of the family all over the place."
It wasn't why I was surprised, but I'll consider that a bonus. It's reaffirming that it really was a good idea to stop and help that little child. Hearing it from them feels... nice.
The second letter has neater writing, at least to an extent. Words are crossed out and replaced four or five times as if the writer was indecisive: Applejack's letter didn't have that problem. All the same, while this one is shorter as a result, it still strikes me as heartfelt and sincere.
...
Hello.
I'm sorry if I'm taking time away from you. I've just finished reading about your recent work in Manehattan's Median Park. I think it's wonderful what you did. All of those animals living there didn't deserve to be threatened with being injured or trapped. Even if you were just doing your job, it still means a lot to me that you took their needs into consideration.
Please, take good care of yourself.
Sincerely, Fluttershy
...
Hmm... ...I did talk to that large weasel on the way into the Park, didn't I? I got wrapped up in my mission and the aftermath, so I'd forgotten that the animals would want the traps gone too. I guess I needed that reminder.
Drama had been reading over my shoulder: I turn my head no more than a few degrees in her direction, and she shows up in my peripheral vision. "So, how do you feel about this?" she asks.
The letters were nice, but if I'm feeling honest... "I feel like a dog with a mile-long chain that's just gotten yanked back all the way."
The both of them wince. "Ooooh."
"Don't feel encouraged by either of them?" Gray wants to know.
"Not enough to make a difference," I tell them, letting the letters fall from my hands. "I just feel completely inadequate right now. That's why I asked for your help, Gray. I agree that your family needs saved, but that old desk jockey at the department was correct in that I'm not in my right mind. Without triggering our last resort and trying to call Celestia for help, you're the only one here I can call on."
Gray stares at the floor, cross. "Well, if you want my expertise... then I'll tell you right now that I find something suspicious about those lowlifes ambushing us right at Hyacinth," she complains. "The only ones who know about where I live are ones that I trust completely."
"And anypony who's smart enough to piece things together just by reading the paper everyday," Drama dryly reminds her. "You were part of that interview after Fairy got here, remember?"
"They knew enough to catch us in the building we lived in. You're not going to find that out by reading the paper," Gray refuted. "I saw it too, you know. All it said was that I found her at Flower Row. Nothing about the specific apartment building." Her stare shifts to a glare. "I have a hunch that somepony was listening in on our conversation in the auditorium yesterday."
"Who?" I ask. "The remodelers? The ex-prisoners? Somepony I missed?"
"None of them." Gray gets up off of me and paces around the living room. "By your word, Mortar & Son weren't close enough to hear the conversation. Maverick and Magnum are victims of all of this, too. All of those in attendance at Drama's last show of the day were gone. And before you ask about yesterday's part-timer, I've gotten to know him in the time I spent working here: he's your average young stallion without any of the qualities of a proper spy."
"So who does that leave?"
Gray's eyes close for about ten seconds, and she sighs when they open again. "I think it's more likely a 'what' than a 'who'. Drama, I'm going to go down and look around the auditorium for anything out of place. Excuse me." She circles around out of my field of view, and I can hear the door opening and closing.
I tilt my head back against the couch. When I close my own eyes, I'm sitting in a gazebo next to Honoré, enjoying Neo Arcadia's first wholly natural park. I open my eyes, and I'm laying against furniture while picking out tiny nicks in the ceiling. "I hate feeling like this, Sally. I hate it so much."
"I imagine most right-minded ponies would." One of Drama's hooves rests on my shoulder. "We've probably got a few minutes before Gray comes back up here. How about you share a story or two about your life in Neo Arcadia?"
"Real, or imagined?"
"Whichever keeps you from dwelling on the negatives the most, dearie."
My chuckle is empty with a dash of bitterness. Of course she would try to distract me from my problems. It's not going to work... but I should do it anyway.
A figure spoken of in hushed whispers crosses my mind, and just like that I have the perfect tale to tell. Who better to talk about than the ace of legends? "I don't know if I feel up to discussing that, but I think I've got something a little better. Let me tell you about a Reploid known only as the Green Biker Dude..."
As Gray entered the auditorium and switched on the lights, she had a sneaking suspicion that she was missing out on something awesome. She reluctantly dismissed the feeling and focused on what she was looking for.
She searched around and under the seating, intent on finding anything unusual. As she looked, her thoughts continued to linger on her family. They were out there somewhere: worried, afraid, possibly crying, maybe angry, maybe in pain. Scenarios involving Ocean and each foal crossed her mind, none of them good. She whined to herself.
The instincts brought about by her experimentation mixed with her natural worries as a mother, spurring her to keep moving forward to help her friends however she could. "Please, everypony," she whispered. "Please be safe."
Pure Energy scampered down a hall as Ralph the crab enjoyed his new hangout on the colt's head. Illudere pursued him, teeth gritted.
"Gimme back Ralph! That crab's like a crab to me!"
"No no!"
"And sit back down so I can tie you up again!"
"No no no!"
Energy didn't let the dead-ended hallway he was confronted with stop him: at full speed he galloped across one wall, down another, and passed Illudere going the other way. She tried to put on the brakes and turn around, but her momentum caused her to skid on an old rug and crash into the wall. Her unarmored face took the brunt of the impact, and for a few moments she was knocked more senseless than she already was. Swiftly recovering, she growled, got up and resumed the chase.
"I want my crab! Gimme!"
"No no no no!"
Illudere was seething, too upset to consider using her spellcraft to end the chase early. In her state of mind, she stood little chance of catching the colt: aside from him being both younger and fitter, he had kept his birth name for a very good reason. Only the triple-locked doors kept him from easily escaping.
"Crab want now, you lunatic!"
"I'm a frying pan, not a kettle! Speaking of, thanks for breakfast!"
"TSSSSSHHAAAHHH!"
"Hahahaha!"
Ralph was having the time of his life. To an extent, so was Energy.
"For the love of...! SAY SOMETHING! Please, you're freaking me out!"
"..."
Calico turned away, grabbed a pillow and slammed it against her mouth in time to muffle a scream. "I knew it! She was over there somehow, and they took away her voice! Why in the world would they do something like that to a random child?!"
For her part, Five-of-a-Kind didn't understand what Calico was talking about. The more vindictive side of her decided to keep up the act for a little while more: she deserved it for snatching her away from her family like that. ...On the downside: that. On the upside: she hasn't tried to hurt me yet. I'll give it six more minutes.
As Calico bemoaned whatever decision this "Rain Shine" had made---almost sounding like she was crying---Fiver took a pack of cards that she'd found in the room and set to work trying to imagine a new Solitaire variant. ...Let's see... two free spaces, or three? ...It would probably work better with four...
"...So for that reason, Rainbow Dash tried to prank me by giving me what she called a 'cloudberry'. She said that it was a 'cirrus' fruit."
Zig-Zag was still at the age where he felt that puns were the highest form of humor. He rolled onto his back laughing at Bushwhacker's recollection of an event that happened in his hometown a month before.
Of the four groups, they got along the best. After being given a full-sized bed to sleep on, the colt decided that he trusted him enough to finally rest peacefully. In exchange, after he later woke up at a new place and had something to eat, Bushwhacker told him a story about how he got his name: via accidental destruction of somepony's foliage by falling into it. This led to sharing other anecdotes about his life that kept Zeke entertained.
In his heart, Bushwhacker was the least on-board with Ignition's plans for Gray (though he was still on the fence where Leviathan was concerned). He was of the mind that barring Celestia's removal, the eventual coup was supposed to be bloodless. He dared not speak his mind on this: he didn't want to be seen as disagreeing with Quarter's proxy, as he felt that would be viewed as a desire to leave the group. He genuinely wanted to see Quarter placed on the throne, and he sought to see it through. He would not leave until that was accomplished.
Still, at the back of his mind, he didn't believe Gray---as seriously as she was taken by his superiors---was worthy of their animosity. That and his perspective of her as an adored family mare was enough to make him waver.
After all, obviously only somepony as loving as Gray would produce a child that radiated love left, right and center. The sheer amount of affection being directed at a complete stranger such as himself awed him.
Zig-Zag got back onto his hooves. "Dog change," he requested. "Dog change!"
"You want me to turn into a dog?" Bushwhacker considered this before finally shrugging. "Well, alright." A wave of green flames heralded his change into the same mastiff form he'd assumed yesterday.
It wasn't the Diamond Dog he was probably expecting, but it was still enough to amaze Zig-Zag. "So cool!"
When Ebony woke up, took a long look at him and Bastion, screamed at them and passed out again, Gates was able to condense his surprise into one word. "Huh."
Ocean Guard, who'd woken up shortly beforehand, shook his head from where Bastion was guarding him. "I don't know who you are, but if you're going to stay in that bizarre armor, you'd better be prepared to hear that a lot from her. That phobia runs deep."
"And she's never seen a psychiatrist for that?" Bastion wondered.
"Several times, but nothing's worked out yet. She's been trying to brute force it by visiting Leviathan deliberately."
Hatred of the robot aside, Gates could see why she'd try that. "Walking metal, white clothes, realistic facial expressions? Passes muster."
Ocean shifted uncomfortably, not liking his current prospects (though he figured that most ponies wouldn't). "I don't suppose there's some way you can let my boss know that I won't be at work this morning, is there?"
Both armored ponies wondered silently where he got off saying that, deciding that his situation hadn't fully sunk in. The captives weren't supposed to be in a position to make any demands. That was how it was supposed to work, plain and simple.
But for their desire to destroy Leviathan and all of their willing crimes, they didn't have the capacity for wanton cruelty to their own kind.
In the end, the professionalism that had marked their short-lived careers as Royal Guards scored a minor victory. They told themselves that he wasn't asking for his freedom or any special privileges, just insurance that he wouldn't lose his job because of circumstances beyond his control. And it was technically a request, not a demand. "I'll see what we can do," Bastion grunted, activating his suit's enhancements and surprising Ocean by fading into the air. "Gates, watch him. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. And don't talk their ears off about your love life this time."
"Yeah, alright. Whatever." Gates turned to Ocean as the door closed. "You're lucky that we don't have anything against you personally. A lesser pony would've clocked you for that request."
Ocean frowned as he tried to digest the implications, still reeling over what he'd just seen Bastion do. "So... you're saying that you're not a lesser pony. Is that accurate?"
For once, Gates didn't have a witty response handy. "...Yes. It is. Just leave it at that, sit down, and shut up."
Gray shook her head as she tried to focus. Be safe, everypony. I'll be by for you soon.
Her search continued. She meticulously checked under and in each seat, but didn't see anything suspicious. Beyond a few crumbs and minor odds and ends that yesterday's post-matinee cleanup had missed, nothing was found.
She took flight to check out everything above the floor: the bat-shaped light sconces, the comedy and tragedy skulls, the winged terrors in each corner of the ceiling, and the horned Exit signs over the doors. Second verse, same as the first.
Gray frowned as she continued to hover, her forelegs folded together. The conversation we had post-performance was at the back of the room. If there's some device or magical object capable of picking up our voices, it would've needed to be in our immediate vicinity. But there's nothing on the seats or the walls, nothing on the decorations, so where could it---
Realization struck, and she whirled towards the one place she hadn't looked. Dropping down a few feet, she removed the cover from the auditorium's large boxy wastebasket. The trash bag within was partially full, but she removed it and set it to the side. Tilting the basket towards the lights gave her a better view of its interior.
There it was. Taped at the bottom of the wastebasket was a headset radio like those used by the modern Police force. Unlike theirs, there were no identifying marks signifying its ownership. Clever, she thought. Nopony would have thought to check here normally. But when all other possibilities are eliminated...
Gray hovered upside down inside the wastebasket long enough to rip off the tape and claim the radio. I wonder if Drama will mind if I borrow her toothpaste, she wondered, disgusted as she spat the tape into the trash bag. She straightened the container, then flew off and landed a few rows away to prevent anypony outside from hearing what she was about to say.
Steal my family away from me, will you? You're not the only one here who can play mean.
Ignition was in his office, shaking off the effects of a sleep that wasn't as helpful as he'd liked. He had just finished his usual breakfast: a spiced chocolate coffee and several orange fritters. Mentally going over his tasklist, he knew it was going to be another busy day: monitoring the agents, his usual duties as head of security, checking in with the twins at the hospital during visiting hours...
But that was as far as he got before it became even busier.
On his desk, the headset that he'd been using to ascertain the Ghost's home hissed and screeched, sounding as if tape was being ripped apart. There'd been several other noises in the background in the minutes prior, but this was centered directly around the radio that Agent #7 had hidden.
Following some other noises he didn't bother identifying, a mare's raspy voice could be faintly heard. -"Hello? ... I don't get how this thing works."- The perplexed tone of voice sounded fake to Ignition's ears. -"Hope they can hear me... Hello? Y'ello? Blue? Orange? Green?"- The wondering voice dropped sharply into a low hiss. -"Gray?"-
With long practice, Ignition kept the curses in his mind from manifesting in his voice. He reached out, claimed the headset and secured it. "Gray Ghost?"
-"And you would be the engineer that would stoop so low as to separate me from my family,"- the mare hissed. -"Did you think that just because my friend's self-confidence was destroyed that you would not face retribution?"-
Leviathan wasn't destroyed, but her self-confidence was? We can still work with that. "Elaborate."
-"The self-confidence thing? How would you not know about that? If that was your plan, it worked perfectly."-
"The spell wasn't meant to incapacitate her," Ignition told her dispassionately. "It was supposed to kill her."
-"...So for whatever reason, you want the both of us dead and out of the way."- There was 'angry', and there was 'peeved'; Gray was the latter. -"You've got plans that are influenced by more than just paranoia for an alien robot landing in your city. You've got something planned for Manehattan.
-"If it was just Leviathan, that would be one thing. But you were desperate enough to get me involved that you yanked my family into this. Be honest with me: were you serious when you had your friends tell me that I wouldn't see them again if I didn't turn myself in?"-
The way the ultimatum had been worded, Gray had to have been led to believe that her family would die. Alternatively, it could also mean that they would be split apart and scattered to any remote towns and villages in Equestria, places with very little contact with the rest of the nation. Forbidden spells that would render them permanent amnesiacs could be used, even if Ignition thought them repugnant.
If Gray was desperate enough, she would leave the city and uproot Equestria in her search for them, not stopping until she found them all. If she wasn't, she would probably lose her will to live without them. Either way, Equestria would be under First Quarter's control before she received a chance to stop the coup.
Ignition didn't say any of this to Gray, instead letting her draw her own conclusions. He was not foolish enough to outline his plans to the enemy.
-"Well, if you're not going to answer me, then I'm going to tell you just how badly you messed up,"- Gray warned. -"Are you sure about this?"-
He was.
-"Alright, if you insist. Part one: Leviathan's awake, and she's fluctuating between depressed and furious. Your plan had been to kill her, then either do the same to me or else leave me out of the way. You're banking on us---that is, the MRPD---being too prideful to message Canterlot for direct assistance, thus leaving ourselves out in the cold. The thing is, whatever your long-term goals are, they're contingent on Levi being dead. As long as she's not, your actions against me are complete farces. She's without her equipment for now---guessing that your illusion-happy unicorn had something to do with it---but you can't really expect that to last. And when she gets it back, you're done.
-"Part two: Levi's status could normally be dealt with either by sending a large enough wave of those fancy machines of yours, or instructing your agents to correct it. Neither option is viable now. The problem with the first is that with nothing tying me down, I'm available for defense. Quite frankly, numbers mean nothing to me. And the problem with the second is that you effectively fired a crossbow bolt at your own hoof."-
Ignition didn't know why he raised his eyebrow in response. It wasn't like anypony was present to see it. He guessed it was just reflexive. "And that means... what?"
-"And that means part three."- Glee colored Gray's voice. -"Your friends are stuck keeping their eyes on my family, with everything that entails."-
"Your family is made up of average ponies and children who cannot fight to save their lives, Gray Ghost," Ignition said confidently. "I'm not worried."
A series of wheezing hisses crackled in his ear. Is that meant to be laughter? -"All that means is that you don't know my family. I might obsessively worry over them when I can't see them, but I'm not blind to their quirks and personalities. In fact... ...would you be interested in a challenge?"-
Ignition had been in the game long enough to know that hearing somepony grin boded trouble. That pause suggested that she'd just had a nasty idea mid-sentence. Still, he refused to be intimidated. "A challenge?"
-"A simple one. On the condition that my husband and children are treated fairly and stay unharmed---physically, mentally, and emotionally---then I'll let you and your little army look after them for the next three days, starting now. For the duration of that period I will take no action against you, either personally or via proxy. IF all of your forces can maintain decent relations with them by the end of the third day without looking like they need a week's vacation, then I will turn myself over to you, no questions asked. If the Pyre, myself or my friends are attacked in that time span, or if your agents violate the rules, then the challenge is null and void and I will enter the fray personally. The rules will not take the Police and Leviathan into account if they decide to get involved without any input from myself. Do you accept these conditions?"-
That would buy time for both the prototype's development and Lady Quarter's treatments to progress. The safe with Leviathan's equipment can be recovered. And without all of her extra equipment giving her an edge, any of them should be able to kill the robot if she chooses to attack. I'm sure that the agents can deal with mere children and a civilian lifeguard, and the Police aren't even worth mentioning. "Your challenge is accepted, and I will expect to see you at the predetermined meeting place in three days. If you're going to match wits with me, then I will enjoy crushing you into the ground," Ignition told her, smiling mirthlessly.
-"You will try. You will fail."- There was no overconfidence in Gray's tone. It was just a statement of fact backed up by a chill worthy of her name. Those factors quickly wiped out Ignition's smile. -"Recall the old expression: 'never wake the sleeping giant'. Congratulations, mister. You just woke me up."-
A crunching noise and a short staticky burst signaled both the transmission's end and that of Gray's radio.
...
Ignition was silent for a short time as he considered this new development and its ramifications, turning off the headset and putting it away. The full realization of what Gray had been planning by delivering the challenge penetrated his mind.
The heat of anger was fast blossoming. Soon it would follow the actions of his name and spring to life.
'Soon' arrived earlier than expected. Eyes flaring, Ignition opened his mouth to utter the first of the curses that he'd been suppressing---
The narration quickly took steps to supersede his authority, cutting the chapter off.
I'm in the middle of talking about one of my homeworld's greatest legends to Drama when Gray returns. There's pure evil on that face, and I don't like it.
She tells me about the challenge she issued the kidnappers' ringleader. I immediately ask her if she thinks that trusting her family's safety to them was a smart move, and she just gives me this look. "A week of direct interactions with my children, and you still don't understand them," she tells me. "That's pretty sad."
Some days, I just can't get a read on her. She mopes and worries one moment, then struts about like a superstar the next. Her moods are difficult to predict.
Though a few resurfacing reminders tell me that in light of her background, it's not a surprise.
...
I continue sharing stories with them for a while. I tell them of the Green Biker Dude, of Zero, tall tales about X. I tell them of Harpuia, Fefnir, and Phantom. I tell them about that one incident from Valentine's Day years ago. It's a random train of thought, just stream of consciousness with no clear connectors, but they listen and react appropriately.
And I tell them about Honoré, about everything we talked about and did in the past. About the opportunity that I realized I missed with him, and the fact that it took a gargantuan lie for me to see the truth. I miss him.
Another look at those letters is the only thing keeping me stable. They're encouraging me to go back. Part of me wants to go back.
The other part of me wants to sleep, encouragement or not.
Business takes Drama away later in the morning. When she returns, she tells me that the remodelers' ongoing work is finally complete and that the ponies responsible for the carpeting would be by later. My fogged memories remind me that I had prior difficulties with the stairs. It'll be good not to deal with that anymore.
We're getting more visitors. Officer Coffee has shown up, out of uniform and wearing a cap expressing her love for Manehattan. She's saying that their Chief Grove gave her a rest day when she tried coming in for work on schedule. She also wanted me to pass along a message saying to stop by the Department later to receive a nice big payment for services rendered.
I know exactly where that money's going. I'm not keeping that entire share.
Maverick and Magnum are escorting her, having been released from the hospital just a half hour before. They tried to apologize for not being available to help, but Drama and Coffee stopped them and told them that no apology was needed. Illudere's mind trickery ran circles around them too, not just me.
The group is getting too large for Drama's apartment, so we relocate downstairs to the auditorium. According to Gray the room's no longer bugged, so we don't need to worry about any eavesdroppers. Everypony brings each other up to speed on important events, and Gray leaves with the boxed crooks to get them set up at Hyacinth Apartments personally, promising to return as soon as she can.
Was Coffee ever this relaxed? She's talking about her entertainment preferences with Drama. Something something mystery novels, Shadow Spade, and evil lurking in the hearts of ponies that he knows about. I can't get behind it all, not with how fast she's talking.
Closer to lunch, Gray and the crooks return. She was able to get them their intended deal, and now they have apartments of their own. When I asked them why they decided to come back here, Maverick---I don't know how she lives with that name---gave me this weird look and said that they didn't need a reason to spend time with me, especially with how I am now.
Don't know what they mean, but I don't care. Just talking about this is too much work.
This familiar pony with a mustache appears at the Pyre's front doors. He has to remind me of his name: Buried Lede, with the local news. He says he's here to talk to me and Drama concerning a report that showed up at his workplace earlier, and on learning that Coffee is here he requests to talk to her too.
One of the ponies---might have been Maverick---suggests that she fix lunch for everypony, but Drama says that she's running low on non-perishable groceries. Gray suggests that she could go for them, but she would need to return to her apartment for her saddlebags. Drama stops her and lends the oddball her own to save her the trip, and Lede---surprisingly---lets her borrow some bits for the purchase. "It's a business lunch," he claims. "It's nothing I won't be making back."
There's a lot of talking going on now, and I don't feel up to it anymore. The only reason I'm complying is that the city needs to know about the dangers of Illudere's presence and what she did to me. I'm not going to transcribe this for anyone, and you can't change my mind.
Visiting the Police can wait. As soon as everypony's gone, I'm going back to sleep. Maybe it'll take some of this emptiness away.
And maybe it'll do something about this process that my CPU's refusing to elaborate on. I don't understand it.
I'll always prefer fresh fruits and vegetables, but that's not to say these don't have their merits.
In the middle of an aisle full of canned goods, Gray pushed her head against a small wheeled cart to move it forward. She resisted the urge to rub her face against it, knowing full well that it didn't belong to her.
Stopping before a selection of canned strawberries, she thought back to that meeting she had with Levi, Drama and Turkey Bowl in this very store. It was only three weeks ago. How in the world did so much happen since then that it feels like much longer?
Gray froze in place. Oh, no... She recognized the voice as belonging to the dog who had spoken to her yesterday. She slowly turned her head, ready to run if it was who she thought it was.
What she saw instead was a run-of-the-mill stallion with a yellow and blue coloration and a caterpillar Cutie Mark, a cart of his own next to him. Was I hearing things? she wondered, settling down and turning around. Their voices sound really similar. "I'm sorry. What's this about my son?"
"Zig-Zag," he confirmed, no malice or hostility in his voice and an honest smile on his muzzle. "He's the friendliest pony I've ever met."
"He has that effect on everypony," Gray said with a smile, always happy to hear compliments about her family. "I saw him kiss Leviathan a few weeks ago. Poor girl's face looked like a tomato."
The stranger 'snrked' back a laugh. "I can believe it." He glanced around quickly, his voice quieting. "Wasn't expecting to see you here, but I may as well let you know that he's doing just fine."
And just like that, Gray snapped from 'relaxed' back to 'on edge'. She too took a quick look around, making sure nopony was in earshot. "One of the kidnappers? And one of those tied to the breakout, I'm assuming?"
The stranger closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. Yes I am. I'm Bushwhacker. It's an honor, Gray Ghost."
When she'd broken into Mocha HQ and stolen the files, Gray hadn't taken an in-depth look at them. She'd only given them a cursory glance to make sure that there were solid connections to the Midnight Castles. It took her a little bit to recognize the name.
More importantly was a nagging feeling that wasn't leaving her alone. She hadn't wanted to make the conclusion earlier when she'd heard him speak, but now that she was thinking about it... "Let me guess. Changeling?"
Bushwhacker nodded, slightly embarrassed. "Changeling." He took another look around, then met her eye to eye as he was briefly covered with green flame.
The fire vanished, and in his place was what Gray expected of said species: a bug-like black quadruped smaller than she was, with small holes in his limbs and large blue insectoid eyes. He was wearing the same type of armor that she'd seen Bastion with, the aforementioned holes evident via slight depressions in the suit's scales.
Something was amiss about him, though, and after a second Gray realized what it was. Twice in the past during her career, she'd sniffed out and fought aggressively hostile changeling infiltrators. She recalled their wings being holey and misshapen. In contrast Bushwhacker's wings were intact and well-formed, seemingly possessing their own shine. She wondered what the significance of that was.
"Satisfied?" the changeling asked, and Gray nodded. He quickly returned to his prior appearance, sighing. "I'm too used to masquerading as a pony. I almost forgot what it was like to just be myself."
"I've gone up against your kind a few times before," Gray spoke softly. "They weren't very good meetings. What are you doing out here away from your Queen?"
"Can we not talk about Chrysalis?" Bushwhacker complained, agitated. "I switched sides to get away from her."
Dissension in the ranks? Interesting, though working for and with criminals isn't much better. "Putting a pin on that for later. What are you doing here, then? I'm assuming you know about that challenge I issued your leader."
"Zig-Zag requested macaroni and cheese for lunch," Bushwhacker answered, shrugging. "I found macaroni, but there was no cheese in the icebox. I left him snacking on some diced carrots to tide him over until I returned."
"Refrigerator," Gray corrected him absentmindedly, gauging his personality. He's certainly friendlier than my prior encounters with his race had established, but that could still be an act. It doesn't explain why his wings look like that, though.
And I hate the fact that he just left him wherever he's staying, but I understand why he did. If anypony who knew us saw them together, they'd wonder why Zeke was with him instead of myself or Ocean.
Several ponies turned into the aisle, occupied with their own shopping. Gray quickly changed the topic by making it seem that she was talking about minor family issues with Bushwhacker, and his perception was keen enough for him to play along until they'd left. "Zeke especially likes Coltby cheese," she instructed him quietly. "He'll eat other kinds, but he won't be as satisfied with them."
The changeling nodded and started to leave, but Gray raised a hoof and stopped him. "A moment. You seem mellow compared to others like you I've met. Not quite so hostile. Is there a reason for that?"
Bushwhacker frowned, contemplating the question. Giving him time to come up with an answer, Gray continued surveying their vicinity. When he sighed, she brought her attention back to him. "If we had met years ago, I wouldn't have been any different from them. We've been constantly hungry for love for a while, and when we're unable to get any... well, you've seen the results for yourself, I'm sure."
She had.
"I eventually met somepony who came off as fairer than Chrysalis. He described himself as somepony who used to be a commoner---similar to myself, in a way. He promised me a steady supply of love, among other things, if I chose to join. Chrysalis became upset that somepony was stealing from her forces and had us both attacked. Seeing her reaction and my new benefactor's ability to fight them off convinced me that I'd made the right call. He taught me the very basics of fighting, and directed me onto a path that ended in Ponyville."
That pony he's talking about. Was he the same one I called this morning? ...Couldn't be. He wouldn't be so open about his experiences if it was the case, would it? Still, there has to be a connection.
And since he's in league with Statuette, is there some relation to her statement that she's opposed to Princess Celestia? Is he opposed, too?
Another pony entered the aisle, and Bushwhacker shifted to talking about the everyday antics of Ponyville's citizens until the shopper was gone. "At first I was nervous being around so many ponies at once," he continued. "But there was enough ambient love that it staved off the worst of my hunger, so I settled in. Life there's not perfect, but it's far better than when I was just another drone." He smiled happily. It wasn't the same sort of smile that Gray had when she thought of her family, but it was in a similar vein. "I even met somepony there who found out about who I was and accepted me as a friend."
Gray skeptically considered who in their right mind would do something like that. Not knowing of what she was thinking, Bushwhacker went on. "But nothing tops what I felt this morning. That little child of yours radiates so much love, it's like he's a furnace. Completely natural and unconditional. If you want context, then I'll ask you: do you know the significance of a changeling's wings?"
"No, I don't." I'd always assumed the ones I'd seen before were normal.
"If they look flimsy and/or frayed, that's a sign that we haven't been keeping ourselves fed. If they look sturdier and shinier, that means we're healthy with no immediate need for us to eat." Bushwhacker's smile turned joyous. "I noticed it for the first time this morning, and I was able to make the connection: today's the first time in my entire life that I've ever felt truly full."
"..." Gray felt entirely blown away by what she'd heard. She unconsciously felt her posterior hit the floor. "I always knew that Zeke was a lovebug---" She caught herself at Bushwhacker's slight head tilt. "...no pun intended---but is his enthusiasm and affection really that much of a force?" she asked, stunned.
"It is," he affirmed. "That's why I feel confident talking to you. For a child to display incredible love, that would require the kindness and love of their caretakers. Whatever it is that's making my boss take you seriously, you're not a cold-blooded killer."
...A bit backhooved, but I'll take that as a compliment. Zeke keeping a changeling fed just from proximity? No harm or entrapment involved? I... I think I'm going to need time to get over this!
Bushwhacker chuckled and shook his head. "I should really finish shopping before Zig-Zag starts wondering where I am. Nice talking to---" He started to walk away, but didn't manage more than one step before remembering something. "...Oh! Right, before I forget... would you be able to let Leviathan know that I apologize for not answering her letter?"
Gray brought herself back to awareness with a bit of effort, standing up again. "Hm? Oh... Huh. She wrote to you?"
"Yeah, a few weeks back. Things were hurried, so I couldn't get back to her. Tell her that I can't give her the exact recipe of Heartbreakers, but I can at least inform her that Zap Apple jam is one of the ingredients. That might be what she's talking about."
"That was---" Gray's voice raised in surprise. She caught herself two words in and lowered it quickly. "Okay, we've got to talk again at a later time. There's a lot going on here that I don't know about."
"My boss would get mad if I gave up critical information," Bushwhacker reminded her. "We are supposed to be enemies. But I'll be more than happy to return Zig-Zag to you at the end of the challenge period, alive and well."
Gray smirked. "That little confidence in the others fulfilling their end of the deal?"
"Do you seriously expect Illudere to have success in babysitting?"
Gray sniggered, though her swishing tail gave away her irritation at being reminded of her. Levi and Drama's explanation had painted an ugly picture of her. "No, I don't. I'll let you get back to your shopping. Remember what I said: Coltby cheese. And don't forget to add salt."
"Sure thing. Take care, Mrs. Gray."
"You too." And I never thought I'd be saying that to somepony of his race. Sad that we had to meet while all of this was happening. "And don't add to your crimes if you can help it. You're a decent changeling, Bushwhacker. I'd hate to kill you," Gray murmured with a melancholic smile, putting a few cans of strawberries into her cart and rearing up to push it away.
"You're a decent pony, Gray Ghost," Bushwhacker told her in return, smiling the same way as he went about his business. "I'd hate to die."
...
The two of them were only enemies because their goals ran counter to each other. Under different circumstances, they might have left that meeting as friends.
As she returned to the Pyre with her groceries, Gray decided to see how things went with this oddity. Leviathan would still need to fight him later once she got enough of her act together, and he would still need to face justice for what crimes he'd committed, but her instincts told her that Bushwhacker could at least be trusted with her child's safety without prompting.
She hoped that in the end, the challenge wouldn't end poorly for her youngest son. There was a developing friendship in the works here, and the city needed each one it could get.
...
Gray squealed, inadvertently making a passing pony stumble when he spotted her sharpened canines. Zig-Zag's effect on Bushwhacker had finally finished processing. My. Children. Are. The best!
...I was right. This arrangement works best with four spaces.
"How and when was this kid at the village? And why in the world would Rain Shine think that having a random child Silenced was a good idea? That's not good for their emotions!"
...Just calling them 'spaces' doesn't feel right. Maybe I should call them 'cells' instead. ...This is my own little prison right now, so it seems fitting.
"I'm halfway to cheesed off and back again! I swear, when I get back there after the boss takes over, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind!"
...Not every game is going to be winnable, but then that's true of the classic Patience variation. ...Or most of the variations I've tried to come up with, really.
"More than a piece, even! I'm going to give her the whole pie! A great big honking pie! Going to smother the entire village in blueberries! You hear me?! Blueberries!"
...Blueberries. ...What time is it? I'm hungry.
By Fiver's own admittance, she had lost track of time. What was meant to be six minutes turned into hours as she worked to refine this new solitaire game, trying different card layouts and stacks while testing whether it was necessary to set aside cards for drawing separately. Even after settling on a definitive arrangement, she played a dozen games (winning five) just to see if it would work out.
Once she contemplated making an escape attempt: her kidnapper was being very lax, so she could probably slip away without her knowing. Always one to let her logic rule her instead of her emotions, she turned it down immediately: she had no idea where she was taken, and while she was a decent runner she lacked the stamina to keep up with any of her siblings. She didn't have confidence in her ability to pull it off without being seen and caught.
"Now where am I going to find an oven of that size? Do they even make ovens that big? How much are they going to cost? And what are they going to charge me for the pie filling?"
Her captor wouldn't stop running her mouth. At their first hideout she'd introduced herself as Calico Driftwood, and she was nothing like any pony Fiver had seen before. The filly refused to acknowledge her verbally, not having Zig-Zag's instinctive knowledge of who was good and bad and thus not seeing the goodness buried in Calico's heart. For reasons she didn't understand, this caused her captor to become anxious instead of angry and talk about things she had no context for.
"For that matter, how would I transport eighty acres worth of the stuff? I'm not going to carry all of that there myself! I'd have to eat most of it just to make it manageable! Which doesn't sound like a bad idea. I love blueberries."
After they settled in at their second hideout, Fiver had eventually opted to focus on her cards and treat Calico's tangents as background noise. She had long practice in doing so: when left to his own devices, Pure Energy liked to ramble on excitedly about whatever crossed his mind. This wasn't much different. There was a brief break when Calico had left the room to talk to somepony unseen, but otherwise she hadn't let up.
"Almost as much as I love everything else. Should I use cherry pie filling instead? Nah, that would just look grisly without context."
But there were times when her usual approaches wouldn't help her, and mealtime was one of them. Fiver slowly moved the cards back to their box, taking her sweet time.
"I could use canned peaches instead, but it wouldn't be worth it. I'd be better off just going to the country somewhere and eating a lot of them."
The last of the cards was put away. Fiver closed the box and made sure it was secure. She turned to Calico and raised a hoof near her eye, trying to gauge the distance between them.
The not-pony didn't pay attention. "How'd I get off talking about peaches? I was talking about what I was going to do to Rain Shine for dunking the foal in that Stream. How should I drop the pie filling on her? Should I build a catapult of some kind, or should I just use my saddlebags as a makeshift sling?"
Nodding at her estimation, Fiver picked up the deck with her teeth and chucked it at Calico's face.
The deck nailed Calico right between the eyes. With a pained yelp, one of her hooves darted up to cover the afflicted area. "Owww... why'd you do that?" she protested on impulse. "You could've put one of my eyes out with that!"
"...Hungry," Fiver finally spoke for the first time since the previous evening, dropping the act.
"Hungry...?" Calico's thoughts caught up to her as she recognized not just her protest, but that the child had actually talked back. "Hungry! Oh, thank the Sisters!" She lunged at Fiver, kicking aside the deck in her haste to grab her. The child found herself confronted with a hug she hadn't seen coming, plus tears she hadn't seen coming. "Y-You can talk! You have any idea just how worried you had me?! I was getting worked up over confronting my village over nothing!"
...I think she's getting relieved over nothing. "...Stop crying and feed me, you over-emotional idiot," Fiver deadpanned, trying and failing to pull herself free.
"Feed you? Oh, right. Feed you. Follow me." Calico put Fiver down and trotted off, still sounding like she'd been released from being grounded early. The pony followed with some reluctance. "Thank goodness, thank goodness..."
...Of all those I could've been kidnapped by, it had to be the one with her head stuck in a graham cracker box.
Illudere stumbled into her room, exhausted and breathing heavily. She hadn't made it to her bed before she slumped onto the floor, passing out immediately.
In the next room, Pure Energy placed Ralph in a terrarium that had been present for reasons unknown to him. The crab scuttled over to a dish of seaweed, fish pieces and snails that had been put there and started chowing down. Sick sick sick in more ways than one, Energy thought, but mom and dad will be happy to know that I haven't been wasting my time at the library!
He yawned tiredly: as energetic as he was he had his limits, and he'd scarcely had any sleep since he was taken away. Still, he kept going. He hadn't had breakfast, and he was very hungry.
By the time he'd finished his meal, he was running on fumes. The desire to sleep for the rest of the day was strong. He walked towards the living room couch to do just that. ... But then he happened to look at Illudere's bedroom door down the hall, and a nasty idea breathed new life into him.
Energy was willing to be friendly and have a good time, and generally speaking he didn't have issues with others. But he was still a child of Gray, her prankster streak was alive and well in him, and he had no liking of Illudere whatsoever. This was a combination ponies wouldn't want if they desired to be on his good side.
It was only fifteen minutes later after Energy was satisfied with his work that he let himself retire to the couch, falling into a deep sleep. Having no knowledge of what awaited her, Illudere snoozed on. For a brief period of time, the safe house was peaceful.
It had been a rush order, and nopony was sure that it was going to make it when they wanted it to. But against their expectations, Grand Pear had been accommodating. Two and a half days after they'd sent the request and some bits to Vanhoover, a package containing jars of pear jam and a letter had arrived on the MRPD's doorstep.
...
"I was surprised to get an order for jam from that far away, but I shouldn't have been. Miss Statuette's been a regular at my market stall for a long time. If you say it's for her, then I believe you. I hope my farm's produce is of use to everypony.
Grand Pear"
...
The pony that had led the initial interrogations was given the go-ahead to try talking to Statuette again. When she was brought into the room, the officer placed a pear jam sandwich on the table before her. At first she pretended not to notice, but gave up upon recognizing the product's superior quality compared to what she was offered before. The officer subtly implying that he was going to eat the sandwich himself was the finisher. With her forelegs cuffed and wings restrained, she had to dive across the table to reach her meal.
While she was eating, the officer told her of her faction abducting Gray's family. With uncharacteristic vitriol, she confessed that the group had been targeting Gray since the breakout... and expressed indignation at what they'd done in almost the same breath. "We were under orders not to harm civilians unless they took an active stand against us," she claimed. "Gray Ghost: yes, she was our enemy. The officers that my acquaintance injured: they would have fought to have us brought to justice eventually. But a peaceful family who would not otherwise have gotten involved does not deserve to experience this. There is nothing dignified or elegant about that."
When questioned over who was leading them, Statuette reluctantly admitted that their boss had been the late Cocoa Mocha, setting off a ripple of disbelief that would roll over the entire staff by the end of the day. She added that with his passing days before the kidnapping had taken place, it wasn't likely that he had come up with the plan himself. She did not know who would have planned such an act, guessing that it was either his personal servant or an unknown somepony allegedly selected to replace him.
And then she was told of Leviathan's spirit being crushed by Illudere's mental attack. The officer had to take immediate steps to save Statuette from choking on her meal.
"You have the nerve to call this hovel a hideout?! There's bugs everywhere!" Somepony was heard spitting. "Ugh, I think one of them tried to fly inside my mouth!"
Bastion and Gates watched the room they'd shut Ebony and Ocean in warily. The younger of their captives had been going on about this for the past fifteen minutes. Neither the promise of a full meal nor the threat of re-applied sedation were enough to shut Ebony up, and since they'd agreed to abide by the rules of the challenge, using force to stop her ranting wasn't an option.
"And you've got mice in here! For the love of Celestia, you've got mice in here! I think I see where they've been leaving their droppings! Oh, this place is an absolute mess!"
Ocean at least was smart enough not to trouble the thieves in any way, behaving himself and occupying his time by reading what few books they had available. In contrast, once they removed their helmets to keep her from freaking out again, Ebony had all the volume and "you-can't-tell-me-what-to-do" attitude that one would expect from a Manehattanite adolescent. The next few days were going to be long ones.
"All over the bed---! Alright, that's it! I draw the line at them trying to nest in my mane while I'm sleeping! Die, insects!"
A noise like that of a hammer reached them through the walls, though they knew Ebony was likely just going to town on the resident bugs with her flyswatter. That bandoleer she had been wearing was making sense now. "Maybe we won't need to hire an exterminator if she's just going to do it herself," Gates suggested.
"Just get them the meal we promised. And make sure the plates are clean before you use them."
Gates grunted in annoyance at Bastion's order, but left to do as instructed. "Really wish Masonry hadn't bailed out on us. He always was better with kids than we were."
A loud smash. "Get back..." Something hit the door. "...you eight-..." A loud thump as something toppled over. "...legged..." What might have been the room's bookcase crashed against a wall. "...freaks!"
Bastion compiled a mental list of damages to send to First Quarter later.
Caramel had been convinced to return home, despite her misgivings at leaving her sister behind. Ignition had lingered, giving the latter a status update before following after her.
Quarter's next treatment was early in the morning. She knew that she should be getting some sleep now, but there was one problem: she just could not stop giggling.
Ignition had told her about the abduction of Gray Ghost's family and everything that had happened as a direct result, alongside the failed attempt on Leviathan's life. Based on logic and experience, she knew that it was shaping up to be a serious setback. They wanted Gray dead, not involved: neither Illudere nor Gates and Bastion struck her as being any good with children, so it was all but guaranteed that the Ghost would be taking the field against them not long from now.
She shouldn't have found it so funny, but she did. Having her elites turned into glorified babysitters had become a laugh riot.
Most of the bodies that Quarter had stolen during her long existence had been well into adulthood when she usurped control. Only once before had she been forced to skip one of her own children and head straight for one of the grandkids instead. She'd forgotten the immaturity that came with being a teenager: no matter how refined they were, ponies usually found certain things funnier when they were young. And Hazelnut had always been the rougher one of the twins.
It took dwelling on the seriousness of the cancer treatments to help her push the levity from her mind. She lamented that the treatments required her caretakers to shave off her mane and some of her hair around it, as she'd liked Hazelnut's style. Her last thought as she started to drift off to sleep was a reminder to have Ignition find the best hair growth formula currently on the market.
Currently borrowing Leviathan's candle for this one.
Our mutual friend was on the receiving end of equipment theft and a catastrophic illusion by an enemy unicorn last night, and she underwent a nervous breakdown afterward. I set up an appointment for her with a therapist that I trust (yes, it's that bad). I expect this to take a while for her to work through.
My family was abducted yesterday by our new enemies. Thanks to Levi, I was able to confirm that my clowder will remain unharmed. I turned it back on the kidnappers by issuing them a challenge that they will not be able to fulfill, ensuring my family's eventual release.
I was at a local grocery store, and I met the most unlikely of creatures: a friendly changeling. While he made more of a sideways move than a forward one in his role as one of the kidnappers, I learned that the changelings' aggressiveness is a direct result of them not attaining the love they need to stay fed and satiated. He harbors no real fondness for their Queen, and he has made no negative moves towards my youngest child; if anything, there's a friendship in the works here. My instincts tell me that we can take advantage of this somehow.
As an aside, this changeling is also responsible for the candy that keeps Levi alive. Treating him as 'on the fence' instead of as an enemy might be more to our benefit.
I am limited in what I can do until my challenge is done. After that point, I will be taking a more active role per Levi's request. I will keep you notified.
G.G.
H.W.
...
...
I am sorry to hear about what happened to Leviathan. I wish her a quick recovery. I am occupied with my duties and a certain project that has already been publicized, so I would like to ask you to give her a hug straight from me. I am also sorry to hear about your family, though it sounds like you have things well in hoof.
I have had several negative experiences with them in the far past, as have you, so your intel on the changelings is surprising. You can understand my hesitance in accepting your discovery at face value. But if there's anything I've learned from my interactions with you, it's that your instincts haven't led you astray yet. You're directly involved in this incident, so I will leave events up to your discernment.
Princess Celestia
Two ponies sat in the Lonely Heart nightclub, nursing their drinks of choice and engaging in quiet conversation.
"Did you hear? That robot's suffering depression."
"Where'd you hear that, mate?"
"Got a friend in the force. She said something big happened to her. Something something illusionist, freaking out, crying like a foal on recovery, barely reacting to stuff after."
"I didn't think robots could suffer depression. I mean, they're robots."
"She always did act very pony-like. Maybe it's true what she said in that paper? Y'know, about her being built to experience emotions?"
"...Eh, maybe. I'm of two minds on that. I'm more interested in those two thieves that got sent to the hospital."
"I know who you're talkin' about. Maverick and Magnum, right?"
"Yeah. My cousin's a taxi runner, so I hear a lot of stuff from 'em. Said that he knew Magnum for years before she became a thief. He still thinks that she was born unlucky, getting washed out by her employers all those times..."
...
...
A third pony at a nearby table listened to the conversation, periodically sipping from a mug of root beer. She had been on leave from her job and had gone to Manehattan to see if she could meet the robot personally, but had so far come up empty. As she considered the conversation, she was beginning to think that her goal would be a fruitless one.
She recognized both of the names that came up in the conversation. Maverick had been a Wonderbolt once, but had gotten ejected after mouthing off to Captain Spitfire. Magnum she vaguely recalled from one of the tryouts, though her name was more memorable than her performance: she had impressive speed like many other recruits, but that was effectively all she had going for her.
Though that might have changed if that bit from the paper was true. Flying from Manehattan to Canterlot in that short a time isn't anything to scoff at.
She thought back to the newspaper she'd read earlier, considering an idea. Yesterday, the thieves had been sentenced to work with the robot as part of their probation. She wasn't blind to the city's present circumstances: some sort of new criminal group was active and causing trouble. If the robot had been fighting the group but was currently unable (at least according to those she was eavesdropping on), and if two pegasi with past connections to the Wonderbolts were supposed to help her, then that help was going to need to be top tier.
She finished her drink and set the mug aside, leaving a few bits on the table. I'm going to run this by Spitfire in the morning. I know she told me to rest, but is there any reason why I shouldn't use my leave productively? Those two need to have their flying put to test by the best, and I am the best. But for now, back to the hotel.
Fleetfoot held back a scowl as she left the nightclub and trotted out beneath the stars. Places like these are good for rumors and info, but I'm not drinking their root beer again.
When Leviathan's presence was announced in the paper, the majority feared her like only a flaky species could. Only those who interacted with her directly saw that they had nothing to worry about: everypony else remained convinced that her presence didn't bode well for Manehattan. At times, it was only the fact that she was accompanied by Gray---whom many of the city's older citizens remembered and respected---that kept them from stampeding.
As more eyewitnesses saw Levi interacting with others in a peaceful manner, their attitudes changed. A certain pegasus who had helped chase after her that first day would later describe a short race they had weeks later as "thrilling". The three ponies at the aquarium who were eyewitnesses to Ebony's attempt at overcoming her fears found it strangely uplifting. Charity Kindheart, somepony who virtually everypony in her neighborhood respected prior to her departure, clearly had no fear of her. An open-door policy was instituted at places such as the aforementioned aquarium, the Lonely Heart nightclub, Mustang Lanes, and Bossa Nova's clothing store, stating that Levi would always be welcome there.
Still, there were plenty of neighsayers in the city who retained their fear at that point. That number began to take a nosedive after Leviathan's role in catching half of those involved in the MRPD breakout was printed. She wasn't acting on her own like a vigilante, but was actively cooperating with the authorities for maximum efficiency. The towns of Diarchs and Bright Lights near-unanimously made their support of her clear. The Madisoat Square Garden employees spread the word of Levi and Statuette's duel. The local representatives of the Apple family---and by extension, the Oranges---took a shine to her after her role in helping Babs Seed with her problems became known.
Even those only tangentially effected were showing their favor. Post-forgiveness, Juniper Leaf thought about recent events and decided that she couldn't thank Leviathan enough for recovering her journal. Gilbert, Levi's number one fan, contemplated starting a fan club. Those who escorted Glintlock back to Griffonstone approved of her surprising generosity towards them. Little Butterscotch and his mother Cotton Ball cheered when they read about her exploits. Manehattan's mayor began seriously considering setting up a meeting with her to convey his thanks directly and discuss a long-term relationship with the city.
Those that hated Leviathan still existed, of course, and likely always would. Natural fear of the unknown, bigotry, blindness towards reality, and simple "she's not like us so we don't like her" beliefs were the root causes of most of their behavior. For some of them, it seemed like they would never change their minds.
Then the announcement that Leviathan had been overwhelmed by Illudere hit the streets, guaranteeing that few in the city would ever see her the same way again.
Leviathan would reluctantly drag herself out of the Pyre to collect the Police's payment for her services. She kept only a comparatively token amount, splitting the rest with Gray, Drama, Maverick, and Magnum (much to the latter two's surprise). Coffee-and-Cream declined a share, saying that she was doing just fine supporting herself.
True to her word, once everypony except Drama was gone, Levi would go to sleep early.
The next morning, Gray took her to meet with a therapist that she trusted. Unknown to everypony but Gray herself, this therapist was S.M.I.L.E.-approved and was qualified to deal with mental issues stemming from the bizarre and mysterious. He was taken off guard when Leviathan appeared at his office, but accepted the explained circumstances with stride and agreed to take her as a client.
One of the first things the therapist said was that due to the sheer scope of Levi's memories, it might be worth trying to collaborate with the only known pony of equal or greater longevity. Gray said that she'd see what she could do, despite not believing that Celestia would have enough free time on account of her current project. Levi didn't add to it, but she privately wondered why the Princess would use up more of her time on her than she already had.
It would take some time dwelling on the subject before she remembered there was one more long-lived entity she could talk to: that sea serpent Tiffany Polari. She resolved to visit her that night.
When they returned to the Pyre after the session, the sight of a strange pegasus in a tracksuit putting Maverick and Magnum through their paces was enough to briefly pull Leviathan out of her funk. The new pony introduced herself as Fleetfoot of the Wonderbolts and claimed that she'd been given permission by her captain to prepare the ex-thieves for their new role. Gray immediately asked to be included in the workouts, to which Fleetfoot shrugged but agreed. All three were practicing a dizzying array of maneuvers and exercises, attracting a small crowd of on-lookers, when Levi re-entered the building.
Drama debated whether or not to go through with the day's shows in light of her friend's condition. Leviathan convinced her to go ahead, saying that she wasn't the one at fault and that she had the right to earn a living. Levi stayed backstage for the puppet shows, watching them from behind the curtains, then retreated to a far corner of the Pyre to keep from getting caught up in Salamandra's standard opening ceremony. The three pegasi, exhausted from their day-long regiment, didn't join her there but instead returned home.
She never read the newspaper for that day, as she didn't feel up to re-reading what she'd told Buried Lede. Everypony else, on the other hand...
In the grocery store that Gilbert worked at, an out-of-character statement was being uttered.
"Sir, I need to take tomorrow off."
The old stallion reacted with surprise to Gilbert's request. "Did I hear that right? I've never known you to take off of work. You're always wanting to earn money."
Gilbert steeled himself to explain his request. "Something's come up, sir. You see the paper yet about Levi?"
"That bounty hunter you're always going on about?" The store owner thought back as he tried to remember the Minutes' contents. "Right, right... what about her?"
...
...
"You'd like to get some sort of get-together going for her?" Turkey Bowl wondered, wincing inwardly at his tone. "I mean, I'm all for it, but..."
"You might think this sounds weird coming from a griffon, dude, but she needs our help," Gilbert insisted to the pony who'd overheard his plans for Leviathan. "We can't hunt whoever it is she's hunting, but we can cheer her on. C'mon, you know we've got to do this for her."
...
...
"Bossa agrees. Count her in," the minotaur declared whole-heartedly, arms folded. "They think they can tear Leviathan down? We'll just build her back up again. She's better than that, and we'll prove it."
"Awesome." Gilbert beamed, happy at how things were going. "Here's what I had in mind..."
...
...
"I don't like her. She splashed me in the everything once," Limefrost Spiral indignantly remarked. Her pupils shifted to the side. "Buuuut I guess I could go. Maybe I'll bring my canvas and make some bits off the event, or something."
Gilbert didn't like her tone of voice, but he shrugged and gave her the details. Support was support, he figured.
...
...
Word of the event spread around, and those whom Gilbert would never have talked to began to find out about it.
"She seemed alright. Would have to be to let herself get kissed like that," Pinny Lane commented to Turkey, giggling at the memory. "I'm not doing anything tomorrow. I can make it. They re-opened Median Park, didn't they?"
...
...
Mortar listened to the old stallion talk about what his griffon employee had planned. He considered the idea and agreed it had some merit. "Pestle and I didn't leave a good impression that first day, and we saw how wrong we were this past week. Attending it will give us a chance to apologize."
...
...
"You betcha I'm going!" Babs Seed loudly insisted, all spit and fury. "She didn't deserve to have that happen to her! Let's go and make her happy again! Tomorrow afternoon at the Park, right?"
...
...
Coffee-and-Cream overheard its existence while she was on the beat. After getting the required information, she passed it along to her superiors. They agreed to send her and several other officers to the event, allegedly to make sure everypony behaved themselves. Among those being sent were those that had just been released from the hospital.
She suspected that the real reason behind them okaying it was that the Department wanted to show their thanks beyond just giving Leviathan money. She had no way of knowing it, but she was right.
...
...
Fleetfoot found out about it when she returned to her hotel. Until that day, the Wonderbolts didn't have any contact with the alien robot. Since Spitfire permitted her to stay in town for a bit longer to train those oddballs, she decided that she would take them with her when it came time to attend the get-together. She'd only had a very brief interaction with Leviathan when they first met that morning, and she was curious.
...
...
Caramel Mocha, a bit despondent that Hazelnut would likely be too tired to see anypony after her next set of treatments, had been taking an afternoon trot when the grapevine reached her. She'd read the news that morning, and like anypony with a heart she was appalled at what that rogue illusionist had done. She tried and failed to imagine what having two centuries of false experiences would be like.
Attending the event will give me an opportunity to meet the robot up close and personal. Maybe I can learn why Hazel was angry at her.
...
...
Even with how well word of mouth was circulating, there shouldn't have been a crowd of more than a hundred, possibly two. Somepony on the Manehattan Minutes came to the rescue.
Honest Crow, a red-capped black-winged pegasus who was the city's self-proclaimed best journalist, learned of the event from a passer-by who in turn had learned it from Limefrost. Seeing huge news from a mile away, she took all of the details straight to the Minutes.
...
...
The event was likely to be a middle-to-lower class affair. Those of the upper class who learned of the event would decide they had better things to do with their time, whether they sympathized with Leviathan's plight or not.
But Caramel wasn't the only exception to this.
That evening, Celestia received another letter from Gray telling her of the event. The writing was sloppier than usual (which the letter explained was due to exhaustion), but still recognizable. With regret, she wrote back that she couldn't spare the time to attend. Her duties and current project made doing so impossible. There was nothing stopping her from sending somepony in her stead, however: that night, Shining Armor and Cadance were on the train to Manehattan.
And during all of that, Gray's challenge continued.
"This is a bit difficult to remember... could you run that by me again?"
Fiver sighed irritably, towards which Calico expressed indignation. "I'm sorry! Cut me some slack! When you said you were playing Solitaire, I thought it was Solitaire Solitaire! Not..." She gestured at the card layout on the floor before them. "...this!"
The little filly locked eyes with Calico, making her sweat a little, but finally she gave up. "...The highest number of cards you can move is equal to the number of empty cells plus one," she explained quietly. "...Suppose that this column here was empty. I can move up to two cards if I want to, so I would have the option of moving the Seven of Hearts and Six of Clubs there. But I would not be allowed to move the King-to-Jack stack to that same column. That's a card too many."
Calico frowned as she tried to parse Fiver's explanation. "So in that scenario... if I wanted to, I could just move the Queen and Jack there instead? I only have one free space, so..."
"...Correct." Fiver moved several cards from the fourth column to the seventh. "...Though in this circumstance, your best move would probably be to transfer these two cards to the Queen of Diamonds here..."
Calico initially had a very difficult time getting Fiver to open up that first day. By the end of the second day, during which Fiver had agreed to show her how to play this new Solitaire game she'd been occupied with, she had learned more about cards in twelve hours than in the rest of her life combined. For example: the deck Fiver had found was called a "Minotaur" deck, and it differed from the standard Equestrian pack in that it had Kings and Queens instead of Princesses and Nobles (though it exercised artistic license in that ponies were still front and center).
She also learned that where her meals were concerned, Fiver wasn't exceptionally picky. She had a mild allergy to chocolate and a slight distaste for spicy foods, but that was it.
Something that Fiver hadn't opened up to her yet was why she was so fond of long stretches of silence. Calico vowed that by the end of Gray's challenge, she would wrangle that secret out of the creepy little child.
Illudere didn't know what was going on. For reasons she didn't understand, her bedroom door had refused to budge since yesterday.
She'd tried magic. She'd tried opening it the old-fashioned way, by shoulder-charging it, and chucking her mattress at it. Nothing was working. Somepony out of the loop might have suggested teleportation, but that was one technique she never had the patience or the power to learn.
The only plus side to this situation was that there was a bathroom adjacent, so thank goodness for small favors. Otherwise, on account of having long since lost her ability to understand children, she wasn't going anywhere.
There's only one I can blame for this! Illudere turned towards thin air and shouted at seemingly nopony. "GET ME OUT OF HERE! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU, YOU AUTHORIOUS CRETIN?!"
Nopony answered her but silence and the concept thereof. After a few seconds she gritted her teeth and turned towards her bed with the intent to dismantle it, find something that would let her escape---
The bedroom door opened minutely, and Illudere's head snapped towards it with a whip crack. A plate with two flower sandwiches and an orange slice was pushed inside, followed closely by a glass of water. As soon as they were both inside, the door slammed shut again.
Illudere's eyes twitched, and she charged for the door. She made one more effort to get out, but once again the door refused to move. Her pupils shrunk, expanded, and shrunk again. She struggled to get a coherent sentence out, or at least for her what passed as a coherent sentence. "Who... wha... fah... nee... shoo...how..."
...
"The kidnapper isn't supposed to be the kidnappee! Let me out of here, you twisted little pretzel!"
When Illudere finally started screaming again, Pure Energy was in the next room feeding Ralph. "That's a really weird owner you have in there, little guy," he told him, ears flattening at some of the things he was hearing.
Ralph made as close to a shrug as his biology would allow.
...
When Energy left the room, he headed straight for the front door. It had no less than five locks on it, with three along the side and two up top. The side locks weren't an issue: he had already taken care of those. The two top ones still remained secure, as they were both out of his reach.
He'd already looked out the windows to see where they were, but he didn't recognize the streets. He could see the giant head on the Crystaller building a few blocks away, so he figured that he was just in a part of the city he'd never wandered through. In light of how awesome these rooms looked and the spectacular view before him, he had guessed he was in a... what was the word... penthouse. Nopony showed up to investigate Illudere's loud protests, so he assumed that nopony lived close enough to hear.
None of the windows could be opened, so it wasn't like he could signal any pegasi for help in the event that one happened to pass by. The only way out was the way they came in.
Energy sat down before the door and stared at it. I've got to figure out some way of getting out of here. I've got to, he told himself. This is her house. I have to offend it.
It would take another ten minutes before Illudere stopped screaming and started coughing instead. It was only after her abused vocal cords made it clear that enough was enough that she ravenously set upon the meal she was given.
"I thought you said you checked out all of our safe houses in your district," Gates complained over the radio, watching Ebony and listening to her grumbled complaints. "There's pests everywhere here. Tall, dark and gorgeous just got done carrying out a one-pony extermination on most of 'em."
-"Where are you located?"-
Gates told him.
-"That's a full two blocks outside of my assigned zone, Gates,"- Bushwhacker informed him dryly. -"And even if my route went that far, there's no way I would've been able to search it before the operation began. Take it up with Ignition if you're upset about it."-
Gates started to answer, but paused when some background noise reached him. "What's that back there?"
-"We found a record player in one of the closets. He seems to be getting a kick out of Sapphire Shores."-
"The both of you have poor tastes in music," Gates said with a snort. "If you want to talk about cheesy pop and dance, I'll nominate Countess Coloratura every day. Helps that she's good-looking."
"Oh, T- to the -artarus no!"
Gates growled irritably at Ebony's exclamation. "What's she upset about now?"
-"I'll just let you get back to that."- There wasn't enough time to berate Bushwhacker for his smug tone before he cut off the transmission.
Ocean Guard looked as if he was about to chide his child for acting up again in front of two dangerous ponies, but Ebony had found a new reason to be angry and was having none of it. "What sort of muse-less, misplaced, uncultured hack would think that Coloratura is anything but a waste of sound? Too much razzle-dazzle, not enough actual music!"
Gates mouthed the word "uncultured?" before coming up with a proper reply. "Little lady, Sapphire Shores is old news. She hasn't been in the business long, and already she's on her way out. Get with the times and get with the best."
"There's absolutely zilch of a reason why I'd want to listen to her!" Ebony protested, getting into his face. "Half of her songs are peppy with depressing lyrics, the other half are depressing with peppy lyrics, and she's trying way too hard to come off as somepony important! Contrary to ponies' opinions, it is possible to look nice without resorting to a wagon's worth of makeup and hair spray!"
"And it never occurred to you that this is entirely why she's popular?" Gates shot back. "Seriously, why are you rattling off all of her good points?"
"Good points? Explain to me how they could be considered good---ow ow ow ow!" Ebony suddenly blurted out as the fed-up Ocean asserted his authority as a parent, dragging her off by one of her ears. "Okay, dad, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She shook her head as her father, mollified by her hasty apology, let her go. "Sheesh!"
"I'm not going to tell you this again, Ebony," Ocean warned. "Making armed ponies angry at you is a poor judgment call. Now, calm down, apologize to them, and behave yourself before I put you in the box."
Ebony's ears flattened. All of her previous anger was gone and replaced by fear. "The box..."
"That's right," Ocean said, nodding. "The box."
...
After Ebony offered a halfway-sincere apology (which Gates halfway accepted, natch) and retreated back to the bedroom, Bastion conversed with Ocean in low tones. "What is 'the box'?"
"An empty cardboard box with the lids torn off," Ocean admitted. "My two oldest really hate that thing."
Bastion couldn't hide the grudging respect he felt after hearing that. A damaged box by itself was nothing, but from his point of view there was some psychology at work. "And I was under the impression that your wife was the frightening one."
Some days later, when the full account of the captives' experiences was published in the Minutes, Coloratura would admit to herself that Ebony's criticisms weren't exactly wrong. Not that she'd ever tell her manager, of course.
After the call ended, Bushwhacker was content for a little while to sit back and let Zig-Zag have his fun. There had been a case full of records in the closet---probably left in there and forgotten about by the residence's previous owner---but as he didn't normally listen to much music, he'd selected the only name he was familiar with.
Zig-Zag had recognized Sapphire Shores, and had explained with his usual truncated speech that the family was divided as to whether she or the Countess was the better performer. Of the six, he, his father and oldest sister preferred Sapphire.
The little colt was shuffling about the room in an odd sort of dance and trying to sing along, though most of the lyrics escaped him. After a couple songs, Bushwhacker came to a decision: he'd heard the music before and he was familiar with the performer's appearance, so there wasn't any harm in using his innate abilities for entertainment purposes. The familiar flaming shroud concealed him for a moment as his appearance shifted.
Later, he was thankful that Quarter's policy for maintaining the safe houses involved soundproofing them, because he was sure that having Sapphire Shores sing a duet with herself would've attracted a crowd. Since it took a while for Zig-Zag to stop smiling and cheering, he counted it as a win.
As a light rain fell outside his window, Ignition removed his radio and resisted the urge to crush it, instead setting it aside. We're not going to win this challenge.
Quarter's second-in-command had called up the agents at the end of the day to receive a status update. Agents #6 and #7 had reported that all was well and that their respective charges were behaving themselves. Agents #8 and #9 had told him that despite the family's oldest being a typical teenager, the father was actually helping them by keeping her in line.
In contrast, Agent #5 was furious. Ignition had trouble getting a clear picture from her on account of her ravings and garbled threats, but he was eventually able to determine that the pony she'd kidnapped had in turn kidnapped her, somehow trapping her in her room and giving him free reign of the penthouse.
You'd think that somepony that powerful wouldn't let themselves be rendered ineffectual, but sadly even magic has its limits.
Keeping Gray from opposing them post-challenge was off the table. Priorities needed to be re-arranged. First, the Golden Bell's safe needed to be retrieved whether the Police were watching it or not. Second, further research into Gray's background and abilities needed to be carried out in order to find something---anything---that could potentially kill her, or at the very least render her ineffectual. Third, Leviathan needed to be destroyed while she was still psychologically damaged.
And fourth, Illudere would need to be kept under watch in the event that she decided to ditch the organization. She had become too dangerous to be left on her own.
The third morning found Gray sitting near the docks owned by the marina Ocean Guard worked for, staring over the water in the general direction of Canterlot.
The sun hadn't been up for very long, but after Gray had a full night's sleep and taken care of Echo's needs, she had chosen to go for a jog before heading for the Pyre. Recent events had left her feeling wistful, so she'd paused once she reached the docks.
One of the dock workers, the big and burly sort who probably milked his appearance for all it was worth, approached her. "Hey, lady. You have any idea when he's gonna be back? We're shorthooved as is, and that creep in scale armor ain't helpin'."
"'Late tomorrow morning' is my best guess," Gray said without looking. "I'm not happy he's gone either, but unless resolving kidnappings is your specialty, the situation's out of our hooves."
Aside from the morning birds, it was quiet for a time. "I still remember what happened that day," the worker pondered. Unknown to Gray, he was looking in the direction of the bridge. "It was crazy. You fell from that bridge with that one hundred degree wing of yours. You were tryin' to stay afloat, screamin' in pain or for help... couldn't tell which. Then Ocean Guard dives in and all but breaks the local swimmin' records getting you out of there. Never saw a pony swim so far or so fast."
"Nopony else was out there, and just trying to stay afloat was a chore by itself," Gray recalled. "If he hadn't shown up, I probably would have drowned before help could arrive." She wiped away a tear as it formed. "I owe him everything."
"Always was the hard-workin' sort," the worker replied. "Even with nothin' goin' on, he still gives a hundred percent to everythin'. I like that about him, honestly."
The two ponies, barely acquaintances, shared a companionable silence...
...for about seven seconds. An eruption of water, some of it splashing down near them, startled them to---or halfway out of---their hooves, ruining the moment. Gray squalled and leapt backwards away from the water. On landing, her back was arched and one foreleg was raised as she tried to figure out what was happening. The worker backed away as far as he could go.
Tiffany Polari had surfaced, holding something in one hand. "Oh, excuse me!" she exclaimed, seeing the two ponies. Her free hand hovered near her mouth. "I thought the area was clear."
"Um... no problem, I guess," Gray awkwardly decided. "What's a sea serpent doing here?"
"Just returning a fish to its tank, hon," Tiffany told her, gently placing a bundle down on the dock.
Said bundle was Leviathan, sound asleep. Gray approached her in wonder, joined shortly by the worker. "Leviathan? Hey, Levi?" she called softly, nudging her.
Someone's... somepony's talking. "Poor thing just needed to vent. She spent a few hours talking, then she just dropped asleep like that." Is that Tiffany?
"How long was she down there?" Definitely Gray.
"If I haven't misjudged the passing of time... nine hours? Maybe ten? And she talked almost non-stop for two and half."
I don't know if I want to get up, but I probably should. "I'm awake," I tell them, putting in the effort to stand upright. "Sorry. I'm awake now."
"Anypony ever say that she looks like an entirely different bein' without that helmet?" a stranger wonders.
Gray's tail idly swishes through the air. "I know, right?"
Something big and soft lightly presses against my head and upper back. I give in to the urge to shiver. "You're in good hooves now, hon," Tiffany tells me. "You're always welcome to see me again, so don't be a stranger, a'ight?" Another splash of water, and she's gone.
"A sea monster kissin' a robot," the stranger utters. "If that don't beat all."
Gray's beaming. What kind of toothpaste has she been using? "I love this city so much."
We're jogging back to the Pyre. I'd much rather be walking or hitching a ride, but apparently Gray's taking her new workout regimen seriously.
I could've done without her having breakfast on the go, though. She's eating a fish that was washed up onto the docks by Tiffany's surfacing. Without cooking it first, even. I know that being part-cat lets her get away with habits that no pony would consider adopting, but please. At least she's spitting out the bones into the trash bins, but she's still getting odd to off-put looks from those already on the streets.
Two and a half hours. Did I really spend that long talking to Tiffany? I know I was told to talk to somepony who knew what it was like to live for centuries, but did I really spend two and a half hours just talking? I don't remember her saying anything in reply to my stories: she just reclined on the seafloor and listened. For that matter, I have no recollection of falling asleep.
Did I even give her a chance to talk, or did I hog all of the time for myself? I should bring this up with the therapist later.
Speaking of, that's all I really have lined up today. I still don't feel like doing anything important. My mind and heart aren't in it. Probably won't be for a while. And I'm not saying that because I've just been kissed by a sea serpent again.
I still feel empty. Even my previous fury at Illudere is stifled now.
But at the same time, I feel like there's... hope? Is that what that is? It's buried kind of deep. It doesn't feel like it wants to surface, but I can tell it's there. I wonder what it will take to make it more noticeable.
...
We're back at the Pyre now. There's a police carriage parked outside, and it looks like they want me for something.
One of the officers offers me a radio, and I hold it up to my ear. "Hello?"
-"Coffee-and-Cream,"- my navigator greets me. -"There was an incident last night at the Golden Bell."-
That place, because yes. "I'm listening," I tell her. "Though I don't know how much I'll be able to contribute."
-"Don't beat yourself up over it,"- Coffee advised. -"I don't recall if you were informed of it or not, but there was a safe stashed away outside of where you were kept. That's what that big screechy drone was guarding."-
Just the memory of that thing is making me desire headphones. "What happened?"
-"Twelve drones attacked the surveillance team,"- she reports. -"Including a few of a type that hasn't been catalogued yet. The whole thing was a diversion. Some altered Magiflies attached themselves to the safe and tried to make off with it."-
"'Tried' to. I'm assuming you were able to stop them somehow?"
-"Yeah, but it took Surveillance being very stubborn. One of them managed to jump on the safe and hang on for dear life when the 'Flies tried to make off with it. When they realized he was there, they flew around all over the place trying to shake him off."
"Must have been a wild ride. Did he destroy the Magiflies himself?"
-"With some help. A harrier---a bird of prey, excuse me,"- Coffee clarifies, perhaps sensing that I was going to be confused. -"It saw the Magiflies and mistook them for its next meal. In the confusion they lost control of the safe, and it crashed down in a corner of Median Park. The remaining drones fled after the transporters were destroyed. We set up a cordon around the safe to keep ponies from getting too close, but otherwise the Park's still open for business."-
"Somepony seriously needs to catch that bird," Gray complains right next to my ear for crying out loud---! "That thing's been treating Manehattan as a summer home for years, and it's really annoying."
-"That 'thing' helped save some potentially critical equipment, if accidentally,"- Coffee retorted. -"Give it a rest."-
I'm feeling tired for no real reason. Let's just move on. "How critical are we talking?"
-"Our detectives think---and I agree---that the safe is storing your stolen gear. So far, the protections on it have prevented us from opening it, so we're at an impasse."-
And now I'm not. If that's true, then matters have just escalated in importance. I don't know if it's going to make me whole again, but it should at least bring back something I lost. "I think I felt something that time. Want me to go over there now and see if I can take a crack at it?"
-"Save it for later,"- she instructs. -"The Median's going to be a bit busy today, I think. We'll deal with it after they're gone."-
Gray nods in recognition. "That little get-together. Right."
"Anything that's my business, or..."
"Remember that griffon? The one you said called you a bounty hunter?" Gray asks, continuing after I nod. "He's set up a pseudo-picnic this afternoon for fans and supporters of yours. Dunno how big it's going to be, but I'm guessing that it'll be on the small-ish side. I'd like to take you there after your appointment later."
Do I want to go? Not really. Should I anyway? ...Might as well. "I've got nothing better to do."
-"It'll turn out fine, General,"- Coffee assures me, hearing my skepticism and slight sadness. -"Trust us."-
That's something that I want to do, Coffee. Believe me. I sigh to myself. It feels like since I re-read that child's letter, I've been of two minds on life.
That flight instructor---come on, what was her name, Fleetfoot---showed up again after the call ended. Maverick and Magnum weren't far behind. Like yesterday, they and Gray are being put through their paces. Gray was still occupied at the time of my appointment, so I went ahead without her.
My time with the therapist was mostly uneventful. When I told him that I'd been talking to a sea serpent and informed him about Tiffany, he agreed that I'd made the right call talking to a long-lived being, even if that being wasn't Celestia. No complaints there.
One minor detail did come up. I was telling the therapist about my difficulties in that other reality regarding my reconciliation with Honoré, and he asked me how much of what I'd seen was me and how much was Illudere's work. Thinking about it, that's actually a good question. There's no way Illudere could've possibly known what Honoré had looked like, or for that matter anyone who was alive at the start of my experiences.
This is doing a good job of distracting me from my prior mindset. Sally's kept those editions of the Minutes pertaining directly to me, and I've re-read the initial interview I gave. Not once did I mention Area Zero, the traitor Elpizo or the Dark Elf, but all of them had minor roles in my newfound recollections. If I had talked about them in any way, it would make sense for Illudere to use that information in her spellcraft.
On the flipside, both Dr. Weil and Omega were brought up in the interview, and neither of them appeared in anything other than footnotes. It would make sense in the context of the new memories: without the Dark Elf active (and disregarding Dr. Ciel's cure for it), Weil wouldn't be able to make his move. Still, you would think that he would still show up in some fashion over the two centuries plus, but he just plain never appeared. No news of his death or where he went. Just... nothing. Same goes for Omega.
So how much of my false experiences were crafted by Illudere, and how much of it was me? I've got to give this some thought later. Maybe Sally has some insight; the two of them were acquainted, so...
...
Gray has caught up to me outside of the therapist's office just now. She seems winded. "Alright, I'm here. Are you ready to go?"
"...I guess," I admit half-heartedly. "What about you? Aren't you tired?"
"Not so much that I can't spend time with a friend," Gray denies. "Fleetfoot's a real taskmaster, but she's not the toughest I've had. I'll manage." She turns to an incoming carriage and signals it. "Taxi!"
I catch a glimpse of the driver's face before we climb inside. Is that pity I'm seeing? Why?
...
Gray falls asleep as soon as she directs the driver to the Park, slumping against my side.
She's been trying to make herself stronger for my sake, or at the least trying to work herself back up to her physical prime. I appreciate her being willing to help after what happened to me, but this is a bit much. Just offering her assistance is enough; she doesn't need to exhaust herself.
There's a quiet rumbling from something. It's not the road, or at the very least it's not what I've been hearing for the past minute, so... ...oh. Gray's purring, and I can see why: without my awareness of it, my hand has moved down to scratch behind her ears on its own. The memory of my doing this to the two ex-thieves returns to me, and I jerk my hand away before she starts panicking.
"Put it back," Gray softly protests, not opening her eyes. "That felt nice."
...Of course. "I'd rather treat you like a pony than a cat, Gray," I deadpan. "Try to have at least some dignity."
"Dignity is overrated," she mumbles. "I want ear skritches."
I think I just felt a flash of deja vu. "Seriously, Gray. Stop being difficult," I mutter back. "I'm not in the mood for this."
Gray "mmphs" in disappointment, but doesn't say anymore. And since I don't have the words to describe what just happened, this is where I'm going to cut it.
...
Sooner than we'd like, greenery fills one side of our vision. The carriage comes to a stop, and the driver announces our arrival. Gray reluctantly wakes up, takes flight, and flutters on out. I'm a little slower to leave due to mental lethargy.
Ow... I think I put my foot down on a stray pebble. When I was rescued, I was only dimly aware that I was walking on shrapnel due to my mind being on... other things. With help from my friends, along with Tiffany and the therapist, I'm a little more cognizant of my surroundings. I'm wishing that I'd earlier gone straight to where that safe is and broken it open so that I could have access to my footwear.
Another reason why I'll take water over land any day.
Though speaking of the safe, I'm not seeing any evidence of Police presence on this side of the park. It must be clear at the opposite end. That's quite the hike.
Gray is leading me forward, but she's staying quiet as we progress through the park. I wonder what's on her mind.
--
"You're looking thoughtful, Honoré," I tell my husband. "Is something on your mind?"
"Well, it's just---"
--
No.
If I could permanently erase selected memories, I would. Unfortunately, contrary to what one might expect given my password-breaking program, my control over my systems isn't that good. Only my most trusted technicians, if they're even still alive after Weil took over, would be able to remove those memories for me.
And the sad thing is, as gung-ho as I was before about wanting to go home, I am this close to just writing Celestia and asking her to call off her research. I don't know if I can face Neo Arcadia anymore. I just... I just don't know.
I'm beginning to hear some noise the closer we get. The childish calls of some foals having fun. Background chatter provided by dozens of conversations. Somepony having either a heartsong or a bog-standard live performance... I can hear the words "Aqua Gal" somewhere in there. I sigh quietly and look towards the wide-open space in front of us. I'm ready to face whatever...
The expansive field where I'd fought Glintlock, as well as a good ways beyond, is absolutely packed with ponies and other creatures. There's so many here that I can't begin to count them all. I can see familiar faces in the crowd: Gilbert, Bossa Nova, Turkey Bowl, a few of those that pursued me that first day, Butterscotch and his mother, what looks like the owner of that one nightclub...
There's so many! I can't get over it, I just can't! I know I'm just repeating myself, but for X's sake there's so many! And... and...
...And are they all cheering for me?! I'm serious! The entire lot of them have just turned in my direction and started applauding as only they can!
Gray grins cheekily at me and presses a hoof against my chin, closing my mouth. "Surprise, Levi."
I whirl and grab Gray out of the air, bringing her face to face. "This is your idea of a 'little' get-together?!"
She blinks slowly a few times as she answers, still amused. "We're Manehattanites, Leviathan. We don't do parties by half. Though I'll admit I wasn't expecting this big of a turnout."
I don't remember letting go of Gray, but there's nothing weighing down my hands anymore, so I must have. "But... how? Why? And... why for me?"
Gilbert flies in close enough to contribute. He's remarkably sheepish. "Hey, Levi! Glad you could make it! Sorry 'bout the crowd. Wasn't expecting word of mouth to work this well!"
It takes a moment for me to register what he said, during which time the cheering dies down some. "What?"
"Blame that on the paper," Bossa's familiar bass rumble cuts in, shoving her way past several ponies that were slow to clear a path for her. "That long-nosed journalist they call 'Honest Crow' decided to publicize this affair. Nosy little opinionated..."
A little red and brown bullet darts through the crowd and jumps at me when it gets clear. I'm able to catch it in time, though the impact makes me stagger back a step. "Leviathan!" Babs Seed greets me. "You're here! Awesome! They have these little drinks here you've got to try!"
"Hold on a m-moment! Just hold on!" I interrupt before I can start to get overwhelmed, putting Babs down. Stop trying to break, voice, don't give up on me yet! "Would somepony please tell me why this is being done for me? I... I didn't ask for any of this!"
"Because we all know what that crazy pony did to you," somepony says. I want to say I've met him before, but I don't have any ID on him. "And we're all in agreement. What she did ain't right."
A trio of wingbeats get our attention: Fleetfoot, Maverick, and Magnum are coming in for a landing. The latter two are just as winded as Gray has been, but it doesn't take them long to catch their breath. "And if we're being honest with ourselves?" Maverick states. "We like you."
They...
"You talk about how much damage you did before, but you've been nothing but a force for good since you got here," Magnum continues. "How else are we supposed to take that?"
"You've been nothing but generous to me and mine," Gilbert claims. "That's earning you points right there."
A red fist flies at me, and on instinct I raise my hands to block. The impact slams against my guard and pushes me back, but not down. "You're a competitor," Bossa confirms, lowering her hand and nodding in satisfaction. "A competitor does not quit just because their opponent decided to cheat. Look at you. You're still standing. Still fighting. You've had your cry, Siren General. You allowed your weakness to show for the world to see. Now it's time for you to push forward again."
Do they really... know what they're saying? Do they even comprehend what I went through?
A little voice at the back of my head answers me. I know it's just my imagination running away with me, but that still sounded an awful lot like Zero. And it strikes me as the sort of thing he'd tell me in this situation, as it's straight to the point and eliminates the middleman:
Do they need to?
Strictly speaking... no, they don't. Unless there's something hindering them emotionally, they don't need an excuse to show sympathy. That's what my logical side is telling me.
And I think it just gut-punched my emotional side, because I am completely dumbfounded. All of them are... everypony is... I just don't know how I should be reacting to this!
My senses resume cooperating with me as Gray leads me into the gathering proper, the others not far behind. Somepony I don't recognize offers me a cup, which I take and sample on autopilot. My eyes widen in recognition as I recognize the contents: this is the same drink I was offered after Metallium was defeated.
I'm starting to register more of what's happening. There's dessert carts and booths around the perimeter, and the theme today is 'blueberry-and-vanilla', barring a few that are dealing with the city's more traditional fare. I see somepony at a far corner painting on a canvas (it takes me a moment to recognize her as that idiot I saw at Madisoat). There's a curly-haired pony with an accordion waving at me; he's no longer playing, but he's likely the source of that live performance I heard on the way in. I can see ponies in MRPD colors scattered around, Coffee-and-Cream included, helping the gathering maintain a semblance of order while helping themselves to a snack or two.
The good-natured mutterings around me are increasing in intensity. My entourage and I stop where we are: two ponies are on their way towards me, and they're the last ones I would've expected to be here. My voice continues to waver as I speak, and I inwardly wince at how hollow it sounds. "Princess. Captain. Forgive me for being out of sorts like this. I haven't been having the best of weeks."
Unlike our previous meeting, Shining Armor and Cadance are here as clear representatives of Canterlot, with their respective attires indicative of that fact. The former's sporting a purple military dress uniform, while the latter is in full royal regalia. Snazzy. "Think you can forgive Princess Celestia for not being here?" Shining asks in response. "Her schedule's been packed for most of the week."
Trying to help me find a way back, right. I kneel down, bringing myself down to eye level. Or lower, even: both ponies are a little bit larger than average. I am tempted, sorely tempted to have them ask Celestia to call it off, but something stops me at the last moment. Instead, I ask: "How's the research coming?"
"Slowly, as you might expect," Shining says. "There's a lot of debate over what might work and what might not, piles of research notes taller than I am, stacks of books and scrolls that they still need to go through. You get the idea."
"Though there was something that came up that my aunt asked me to pass along. She thought you might be interested in it," Cadance continues. She eyes my entourage. "May we have a bit of space, please?"
"We'll get a blanket set aside for you, Levi," Gilbert decides. He probably recognizes that this is none of his business. "What about the rest of you? You want to hang out?"
The rest of them agree one by one, though Babs is hesitant to join what she probably sees is a group of strangers, Wonderbolt or no Wonderbolt. Thankfully, another pony---ostensibly one of her parents or caretakers---approaches her and talks to her quietly, after which they both leave. She turns back long enough to wave at us, then disappears into the crowd.
Once everypony is gone, Cadance leans in and speaks to me half a level above a whisper:
"It was late yesterday morning..."
"Princess? If it's not too much to ask, can I ask for your help with something?"
Celestia looked up as Startide's grandson addressed her. Since the project began, she'd made brief visits to the library to reassure her visitors, get status reports from her staff, and make sure they had everything they needed. Thus far things had been quiet, so this was the first time anypony had approached her directly. "Is something wrong, my little pony?"
The grandson--Celestia had never gotten his name--shuffled his hooves. "It's about grandma. Since you left yesterday, she started muttering things about the situation that didn't make sense. It's starting to worry me. Do you have the time to talk to her?"
"I have a few minutes to spare," Celestia assured him. "Please, lead the way."
...
Startide was found in a far corner of the section that had been set aside for the researchers' use, away from the others. There were several books on the desk before her, and she was levitating a magnifying glass up to an open page. As they approached she scrawled some text on a notebook that had been given her, quietly uttering words and phrases in full Stream-of-Consciousness Mode.
Celestia cleared her throat as she walked up to the desk. "Startide?"
"Hunh? ...Oh. It's you, Cel-Cel." The elderly unicorn put the magnifier and feather pen aside to focus on Celestia's mane. "Just tryin' to get my thoughts 'n memories in order. Been a long time since I had to focus on this sort of thing."
"I am relieved. Your grandchild tells me that the things you were saying were getting worrying...?" Celestia prodded her gently.
Startide scowled. "Runt needs to mind his own business," she complained, though without any real heat. "Been there before. Taller than I remember. Tryin' to piece it out. Together, that is."
Celestia shrugged, confused. "This is what I mean, Princess," Startide's caretaker told her. "She's been looking over her research and the Manehattan newspapers, and she won't stop talking about this. I'm no magic student, but I like to think I have a good grasp of what she says whenever the topic is broached. Recently, though...?"
"Been a long time," Startide repeated. "I didn't think they got this tall. Used to be much smaller. Closer to my size."
"Startide, what are you talking about?" Celestia inquired without raising her voice. "Who or what wasn't that tall?"
"That blue robot out east," Startide answered with a grumpy get-it-together narrowing of the eyes. "She wasn't always giant. About my size, smaller than you."
"Leviathan used to be smaller?" Celestia urged her to continue.
Startide started to say something, but stopped and slowly shook her head. "No. Not Levia-thinny. Another blue robot. Can't remember..."
...Another blue robot? There's more than one out there? "Go on."
"Tryin' to dredge it back up. Like pulling teeth without the teeth," Startide groused. "Been long enough that I don't think much about it an'more. Been seein' metal, but it's all off the rocker. Bits and pieces, more bits than pieces."
"Yes?"
"Yeh." Startide fumbled for a newspaper and nearly knocked it off the table before she thought to claim it in her magic. "Been thinkin' more n' more about this blue robot. Trying to think. Keep trying to put it together." She frowned at the paper. "Have to squint at her picture. Paper says she's got blue hair. Been seeing nothin' but black. Been there before."
"Please, spell it out for us," Celestia requested. "I know you've always liked making us think, but right now your behavior is worrying. What do you mean?"
"Can never have fun around here," Startide griped. She sighed and blinked wearily. "Tired. This world that Levia-thinny wants to go back to. There was 'nother blue robot there. Nothing I'd ever seen befo'. Lifelike without life, with life like you couldn't believe it."
Celestia was able to put it together first, and her surprise was palpable. The younger pony was slower to understand. "Grandma, this is getting ridiculous. What are you talking about?"
"How many times mus' I keep sayin' it?" Startide grumbled irritably. "Thinkin' I should go back to bed with you two not gettin' it. Tryin' to recall everything. That other world. I've been there before."
She WHAT?!
That old pony, whoever she is! She's actually been to Earth before? More to the point, she was able to make it back to Equestria?!
I start to say something, but I quickly slap my hand to my mouth when I realize that I would've shouted it. When was this? And why haven't we heard anything about this before? Extra-terrestrial life just showing up out of nowhere would've been an event too big to hide!
...Weird. I felt dizzy for a moment there. At least it's gone now, but why, though?
"From your face I can tell that means something to you," Shining guesses. "But you can think more about that later. Right now, we've got to get you back on your feet." He gestures at a stage that's been set up at the front of the gathering, with an older-model microphone set upon it. "And I don't just mean in the literal sense. It's impromptu, but we have a few ponies who want to speak to you, so let's get you to your seat."
Yes. Yes, he's right. Whatever I think of this can wait. My focus should be on getting over the surprise I'm still feeling at this event. I get my feet under me and stand up straight. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but do either of you know how many are in attendance here?"
Cadance considers this. "This part of the Park can hold a lot of ponies, Leviathan. It wouldn't surprise me if there were at least four thousand."
Four... thousand? Four thousand ponies taking time out of their busy schedules just to give me a morale boost? My voice is shaking again. "I-it's just staggering."
"What is? The attendance?"
"It's the fact t-that they're all here to cheer me on. Me, after everything I discussed before..."
"Because we love you, you big blue idiot!" somepony at the front of the crowd calls out, only to be quickly shushed by those nearest to her.
"...Not the words I'd use, but she's got a point," Shining admits, having winced at the cat-caller's phrasing. "None of us would be present here if you hadn't grown on Manehattan. Hearing that you have that many false memories is crazy..."
An oft-recited expression makes a comeback. "...but so is everypony in this city," I finish.
Shining and Cadance both smile... and for the first time in days, I actually want to do the same. Those little movements are almost beginning to feel natural again.
That feeling of hope that I was experiencing earlier is starting to feel stronger now, too. It's increasing little by little. Almost like things are looking up for me. It feels good.
I'm not stupid. I know that feeling means that the other shoe's going to drop sooner or later. But for now, it looks like somepony's getting ready to speak into that microphone. Uneasy feelings and half-worrisome inevitability can wait.
Metallic clanging and angry squealing reverberated through the penthouse.
A vent cover in the kitchen rattled and fell open. Illudere struggled to pull herself out, but it was a tight fit. Aside from the vents not being the right size for a full-grown pony, her dragon scale armor added just enough girth that the stunt she tried should've meant the end of her. Pure desperation had guided her actions: nothing else was getting her out of her bedroom, however it was she'd gotten trapped in there. And it was the relentless force of her insanity and straight-up not caring that had kept her moving, aided by using the odd bit of magic to pull herself forward.
Didn't change the fact that she'd been forcing herself through the ventilation for hours.
Illudere finally yanked herself out into the open. She had an awkward landing thanks to being almost six feet over the floor, but she quickly gathered her hooves under her. She immediately set course for the living room, smiling as she anticipated cornering Pure Energy. "I never thought I'd make it through that vent, but now we are togeth---"
Energy was nowhere to be seen. The penthouse was quiet. The exit was standing wide open.
It didn't take much work to figure out how he had gotten out. The three side locks were undone. A chair had been pushed near the door, allowing Energy to reach the topmost locks with a yardstick he'd found in one of the closets. Those locks in particular had been meant to provide some extra security in case somepony tried to get in, but they had never been intended to keep somepony from getting out.
There were several things that could set Illudere off. She hated it when anypony denounced the one who'd freed her from the asylum. She got worked up if anypony made fun of Ralph: for reasons unknown to everypony except herself, she adored the crab and took him everywhere. And most of all, she hated being played when she was the one doing the playing. "Infidel," she hissed, the low noise quickly rising into a shriek. "Infidel, INFIDEL!"
After putting a quick end to the vase of flowers in the living room, she was out the door. It wasn't the best lunch and she was tired, but she didn't care. She had enough of that child and enough of that challenge. Either she was going to drag the child back to the penthouse, or she was going to give him nightmares that would last for the rest of his life. She could eat something bigger after he was dealt with.
...
Illudere sheepishly backtracked to Ralph's terrarium, apologetically let him latch onto her mane as was normal, and then she was gone.
...
Fifteen minutes after she'd left, Pure Energy squeezed out from under the couch where he'd stashed himself, coughing a little on account of some dust. Satisfied that his captor wasn't coming back, he meandered out the door. After silently noting the penthouse's address on a nearby plate, he trotted to the nearest stairwell while whistling the entire way.
House offended.
"Agent #5. Agent #5, come in. Respond!"
-"Busy busy, Ignity Ignity! I have a runt to catch!"-
"To catch---" Ignition slammed his hooves down on his desk. "Don't you dare harm the child, #5. Let him go. First Quarter will be displeased to hear that you set aside her mandate, and you will have earned the Ghost's wrath if your charge is hurt in any way."
-"To Tartarus with the mandate, romance is a crockpot anyway!"- Ignition silently mouthed a "What?" before Illudere's unhinged exclamation continued. -"I am through with this farce! I am going to get that child, I am going to make sure he stays put, and I am going to make sure that the Ghost and the Reploid die!"- The chuckles of a madmare who had thrown away her reason buzzed in his ears. -"I'm done following the plan, Ignition. From here on out, I'm an ordinary mare... BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE!"-
The transmission cut itself off with an illusionary chorus of singers calling the last four words in unison with their summoner. Ignition allowed himself a weakness in the form of an angry snarl. Somepony of her temperament and mindset could only be controlled for so long. Let's hope Lady Quarter is in a forgiving mood after her treatments, because we've just lost ourselves an invaluable asset! He adjusted his radio's frequency to contact the remaining elites. "This is an alert to Agents #6 through #9. Illudere has gone rogue. I repeat, Illudere has gone rogue!"
Day Three, Part Two: Everybody Look What's Going Down
None of the agents save one were blind to what was taking place at Median Park.
After Caramel had learned of the gathering via word-of-mouth, she had in turn told somepony she was acquainted with at Mocha HQ. She was unaware of that individual being on her late grandfather's payroll, and the details were passed along to Ignition. One of the faction's magi-technicians approached Gilbert at the Park in the morning and "volunteered" to get the microphone set up. A little bit of work involving a spare radio later, and the agents and Ignition were able to listen in on the gathering.
Calico, Bastion and Gates were concerned, but they were still confident enough that they felt they could give all involved a run for their money. Bushwhacker was conflicted: he had silently disapproved of the plan to kill Leviathan, knowing how barbarous it was and preferring a straight fight, but he hadn't given up on First Quarter's goals yet. Illudere, as hyper-focused as she was towards finding Pure Energy and catching him, straight up ignored it.
Ignition was the most miffed, knowing that no thanks to that irritating bird who didn't know what it was doing, there was no chance of recovering the safe before nightfall. If the gathering succeeded in its intent, Leviathan wouldn't be as hindered psychologically and would thus be ready to fight again. And if the safe wasn't recovered before she got to it, nothing would stop her from joining Gray against them. The safe's defenses were strong, but they wouldn't ward off a truly determined foe.
A tyrant like from the tales of old probably would have attacked the gathering, but neither Ignition nor Quarter were tyrants. Their vendettas were against Celestia and those that would directly fight, not against the citizenry as a whole, and hurting them would do more harm than good when it came time to claim the throne. In addition, Leviathan's candor regarding her past sins meant that they had nothing to hold over her head and lower the city's opinion of her.
After sending the alert regarding Illudere's status, Ignition remained silent for some time as he listened to the proceedings. Finally, an idea clicked. Maybe we can use our rogue's insanity to our advantage one last time, he thought as he signaled Illudere. "Agent #5, what is your status? Have you located the child?"
-"I have discovered a new hobby,"- Illudere snarled. -"Taxidermy!"-
Taking that as a clear 'no'. "Children are likely to gravitate towards recreational areas," Ignition suggested. "Have you considered checking Median Park?"
A short bout of silence. -"No. I have not,"- Illudere finally responded, her perception of reality clearing for all of four seconds. -"My loving fans await me!"-
"While you're there, a request," Ignition instructed her. "Leviathan is at the Park. No more tricks or games. Make use of the full extent of your spellcraft and kill her. Your suit's enhancements will aid you, so use them well."
The servant ignored Illudere's ecstatic confirmation and signed off. With the Ghost-Guard family's victory inevitable, there was no need to keep a hold of Illudere's leash anymore. Either Leviathan would die and obviate the need for haste in obtaining her equipment, or the robot--no doubt interested in revenge for her suffered indignities--would crush the illusionist with everything she could muster, removing a wild card from the game.
Just that thought alone made the Ghost's eventual counterattack easier to stomach.
The pony working the MRPD's front desk looked up as a visitor walked in. "Good afternoon," he greeted him. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Yeah, yeah," the adolescent responded. "I'd like to report an offended residence."
The staffer didn't know what to make of that. "'Offended'?"
"Meaning that it was occupied by a criminal until recently," the colt clarified. "And I think she was insane, too. She had this crab attached to her mane."
A crab? ... He could be trying to be funny, but it's best not to take chances. "We'll look into it, but I'll need some information. Can I have your name for the records?"
"Pure Energy, sir."
The staffer's mouth fell open in surprise. Mentally he went over the descriptions he'd been briefed on, and he realized that one of them was a perfect match. Glad that I didn't take that chance! "One of Gray Ghost's kidnapped children? How did you escape?"
The colt shrugged. "The pony that grabbed me is neither sane nor bright. I was able to block her in her room without her knowledge, and that gave me enough time to figure out how to get out without being seen. She was nuts enough to try escaping through the vents. Crazy, sir. Crazy. Like a cuckoo without the clock."
This just jumped up in importance. "Would you hold on for just a second, Pure Energy?" the staffer asked. Upon receiving confirmation, he turned and called into the depths of the station. "Could we get somepony up front, please? There's a colt here with information on the Ghost-Guard case!"
A few of those who came up on-stage to talk are those I am only marginally acquainted with. Mortar and Pestle gave me an apology for my "mistreatment" on my first day here, as well as their anxiety in the aftermath. I told them not to worry about it; mollified, they said that they hoped the Pyre's revamped stairs treated me well.
Turkey Bowl's teammate Pinny Lane talked about how pleasant I'd been in my interactions with her at the bowling alley, spoke highly about how willing I was to defend Gray's children, and made those in attendance either "awww" or laugh at her recollection of Zig-Zag kissing me. At that moment I wanted to grab the blanket I was sitting on and throw it at her, but I settled for trying to engulf my entire face in my hand as it burned.
Turkey himself apologized for not being around as often as he could've been after our first meeting, and offered to get me a year's pass at Mustang Lanes. After I told him I'd consider it (maybe, and that's a big maybe), he told me I'd probably have to get my bowling ball custom-made. I can understand why, but it's not a big priority right now.
Still, it's the thought that counts. Several muttered comments between Shining Armor and Cadance helped me remember that. I thanked Turkey for the offer and told him I'd see him the next time he attended Drama's performances.
...Ah. We've got somepony else on their way up. This pony's theme is 'green', though her mane's rapidly edging towards 'silver' on account of her age. It looks like a tiny mess of needles.
She clears her throat, and---
"You don't know me, Leviathan, but a week ago you found something of mine."
...!
"In that certain something was knowledge. Knowledge of the wrongs I had committed in my youth, and of the damage I had done to one pony in particular. I'd held nothing back about my feelings on the matter. You saw to it that this item was delivered to the proper party. And it's because you did this that I was able to earn the forgiveness of the pony who's had the greatest impact on my life.
"From the bottom of my heart, Leviathan: thank you. Thank you very much."
The applause around me is kicking in again. It takes me a moment to recall the name: Juniper Leaf, one of those responsible for Gray's state of mind and possessor of positively atrocious writing. The applause rises slightly in volume when Gray flies in, alights on the stage, and embraces her long-retired caretaker.
"This answers so many questions," Shining murmurs, the words almost lost beneath the applause. "I've been wondering since the duel whether her mindset was natural or forced."
"And now we know," Cadance answers with a smile, getting up and walking to the stage as Gray and Juniper are leaving it.
The applause keeps up as she nears the microphone, and doesn't stop until she begins speaking.
...
"Before I begin, I would like to apologize on Celestia's behalf. She found out about this event late, and she wasn't able to clear enough time to visit. To-wit, she sent me and Royal Guard Captain Shining Armor to attend in her place."
Cadance opens her saddlebags and magicks out a letter. "Now, this letter comes to Leviathan from an associate of mine in Canterlot. 'To the Siren General, I represent all of the ponies in Equestria's capital who have been following your Equestrian career from day one.'" Or day three, if you want to be technical. "'In such a short time, you've influenced life in Manehattan and beyond for better and for worse. I've been watching how everypony has reacted to you. Resistance to your presence was heavy at first, and I will confess that I was opposed to you like the rest. Now, having learned of your recent affliction, I feel that I would be seen as heartless if I refused to acknowledge your pain. Most of those I have spoken to are in agreement with me, with only the ignorant and bigoted refusing to see the truth before their eyes.
"'I consider myself a pony of class, so it would be remiss of me not to offer my services in some way. Please, if business takes you to Canterlot, feel free to seek me out. I am sure there is something here we can offer to make the remainder of your stay more tolerable, after what that rogue did to you.
"'None of us have gone through what you have, and my imagination fails to consider what an extended false life would be like. With that in mind, I suppose you are wondering why we are offering you our support. I could give any one of a dozen different answers to that question, but the statement they all boil down to is because we can. We don't need reasons to help our contemporaries in times of need: we simply help anyway, provided it's within our means. It's a shame that ponykind, myself included, forgets this at times.
"'We hope you get to feeling better soon, and that your future exploits continue to benefit all that you meet. With high regard, Fancy Pants.'"
The crowd applauds as I consider the writer's words. Whoever this 'Fancy Pants' is, they nailed down what I'd been thinking about earlier. They don't need a reason. They really don't.
"Hello, little boy. Do you need my help with something?"
"No, I'm okay! I just want to give you this!"
"Kyahaha! It's very pretty. Thank you, but why did you get this for me?"
"'Cause I wanted to!"
A hand goes to where my generator is placed. This feeling... I almost---
[High-speed unclassified threat in-bound!]
I spot it approaching almost as soon as my HUD blares that warning. "Everypony DOWN!" I shout. Immediately, I follow my own advice and hunker down the best I can in my current position, hands over my head. Shining Armor ducks down reflexively, and while Cadance and those in my immediate vicinity are somewhat slower to react they're not too far behind.
Something catches everypony by surprise by crashing into the stage, plowing through it part-way before stopping. Chunks of wood are scattered everywhere, with one of them bouncing off my hands.
The something in question is quickly revealed to be a mail carrier, dressed in an appropriate uniform and carrying a satchel full of letters. Her coat's a lighter shade of gray than my friend's, and when she stands up and opens her eyes, neither of them are pointed in the same direction. She shakes her head a few times, forcefully trying to bring her eyes into alignment. "That was a rush," she says. "Anyway, got a mail delivery for a..." She withdraws an envelope and squints at it, trying to make sense of it. "'Love a Thing'"?
Crashed straight through fifteen feet worth of wooden stage, and that's all she has to say? I can hear the crowd murmuring along similar lines. That has to be some freakish durability she has.
"Let me see that," Shining Armor offers as he and Cadance stand up. When the mailpony hands (hooves?) him the envelope, it only takes him a moment to figure it out. "It's for Leviathan. The writing's awful, nothing major."
"Whew," the mailpony sighs. "It's not me this time. Sorry for interrupting. Have fun!" She lifts off and flies away with a blissfully unaware smile.
The crowd's stone silent as everypony watches her leave the Park. "Well... that was a thing. It happened," somepony finally comments.
I get to my feet and approach the stage. "Want me to take that, Captain?"
He shrugs and says: "Might as well. Come on up here, and let's see if it's important or not. It probably is, since she delivered it straight here instead of..."
Instead of the Pyre, right.
Once I'm on-stage, I tear the envelope and pull the letter out of it, opening it---
"Wha---!"
A cupcake pops out of the letter, accompanied by a shrill squeal and a burst of confetti! WHY IN BLUE BLAZES---?!
Both Shining and Cadance both flinch in surprise. It goes without saying that everypony else is, too. I fumble the cupcake a few times before finally catching it, but at the cost of falling back stunned against the stage---!
Before Canterlot's representatives can ask if I'm alright, I slam a fist against the wood beneath me. "Alright, that's it!" I yell at the sky. "I was willing to buy a lone pony being responsible for the sun's movements! I can even buy that music, of all things, can help shape reality! But this blatant butchering of physics is where I draw the line!"
"Leviathan..." Cadance starts to say as the crowd mutters to itself.
"I'm serious! This paper can't weigh more than a quarter of an ounce!" I continue, waving the letter. "Then I open it and suddenly cupcake! And don't even get me started on the confetti!"
Ignition, Bastion and Gates were dumbfounded. 'Suddenly cupcake'? What in Tartarus?
Distracted by the word "cupcake", Calico decided to start baking some.
Bushwhacker facehoofed. There's only one pony I know who can trigger that reaction.
"Leviathan," Cadance tries again, blocking my mouth with a hoof. "You're hyperventilating. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow. Repeat."
I don't know what I find more de-stabilizing: the sudden cupcake, or the fact that she's prescribing breathing exercises to a robot. ...But she's right that I'm hyperventilating, though, so I guess that I'm going with the cupcake.
I'm back on my feet a minute later once I have things in line. Notably, the crowd's calmed down to match. "Tha...thanks, Cadance. I don't know where that came from."
"If it makes you feel any better, neither do we," Shining admits, just as confused as I am right now. "I've never heard of any spells that would let somepony put food in a standard envelope."
Not quite what I was talking about, but still accurate. "...Maybe I should just focus on the letter," I decide, giving it a quick once-over. "It's from Ponyville, I think. No return address, just the town name. Writing's almost illegible, but not as bad as others I could name."
"Do you feel it's worth reading for the audience?" Cadance inquires.
I shrug. "I might as well." The worst the writer can do is insult me, and I think at this point I could keep it from depressing me further... or at least that's the hope. Given that they stuffed a snack into the envelope---don't you crash on me now, brain---it's more likely to be cheery.
Okay. Three, two, one...
"'Alright, look. I don't know you, and you don't know me. What I do know is that you've got to get your head back in the game! Yeah, I was super suspicious when I first heard of you, but you've proven yourself a hundred times over! If I didn't have to help keep a local storm in line, I'd be going to Manehattan myself and bucking this confidence booster straight into your metal skull!
"'Yeah, nightmares are crummy. What that illusionist did to you was completely messed up. But that's exactly why you need to stand up and start fighting again! If you let yourself give in, that means that they win. They, not you. You get that? Don't let your enemies take advantage of you! You're better than this, I just know it!
"'Ponyville is cheering for you, General. Manehattan has your back. I'd even bet my house that Canterlot and Cloudsdale have thrown their lots in with you. Remember that you're not alone in this, you understand? If you need us, you've got us! Now get in there, go big, and go home!
"'R.D.
"'P.S. Please find enclosed this cupcake. For the sake of your sanity, please don't question how it got in there.'"
...
There it is.
That feeling that I can do anything. That even if the world turns against me, I can still reach the top. That I had just pulled myself free of a black hole's event horizon in full defiance of natural laws.
They want me. Everypony is here because they want to help me. Gilbert---an acquaintance at best who has no stake in my quest or livelihood---called for aid, and Manehattan has answered. Not just here, either: representatives of other cities and towns in Equestria want me to succeed.
"Yeah!" I can hear Magnum shouting. "That's telling her!"
"To all of you here today!" Bossa roars, voice amped without the need for a microphone. Does she work out her lungs as much as her muscles? "Miss Ponyville has said what we're all thinking! Show it to our Guardian! Let's get those hooves stomping!"
The crowd's applause is much louder this time. The stage is shaking a little by the impacts of thousands of hooves, their equivalent to clapping. Caught up in Bossa's energy, Shining and Cadance are doing the same thing.
Amazing! ... Everything I've heard and experienced in the past half hour... it's just unbelievable...!
The letter slipped free from Leviathan's hands, prompting Shining Armor to snag it in his magic before a breeze could blow it away. "They want me?" she whispered. "They actually...?" Unsteady on her feet, she sunk to her knees. "They're crazy. You're crazy. All of you are crazy..."
Cadance's first thought was that Leviathan was regressing. She started forward to help her back upright, to offer some encouragement---
"Ha..."
An almost inaudible chuckle stopped her.
"Ha ha..."
There were emotions buried in those sounds. Disbelief, yes. A hint of the sadness that she'd been feeling for days, too.
"Ha ha ha..."
Cadance could also discern a note of relief. As the chuckling grew louder, that lone note grew into a full sonatina.
"Eh-heh-heheheh... eh-hahaha..."
If they hadn't been informed of Leviathan's inability to shed tears, they believed that she'd be doing so right now. Her face was built differently from a pony's, but it was contorted in the same manner of somepony who was weeping joyfully.
Some have experienced what it was like to have laughed so hard they cried.
"Kyahaha... kya-hahahaha!"
Levi didn't need to go that far: she was already doing both at once.
It takes a while for me to get myself down from that emotional high long enough to stop laughing, but I'm glad that I did. I don't want anypony thinking that I was starting to turn hysterical.
My emotions have been feeling... I don't know if "loose" is the right word for it, but that's what it feels like. For the past few days, it was very easy for them to shift towards negativity. I could go through the motions of having a conversation, like with the stories I was telling a few days ago, but there wasn't much energy behind it. I was just dwelling too much on what was done to me.
The talks I've had with my therapist and Tiffany have shaken that up a little, and the reactions of everypony here have pushed it further. I was taking the concept of "support" for granted, I've realized: it's easy to think that others are supporting you if they do nothing to stop you from going about your work, but to get a first-hand glimpse of their feelings towards me...
The negativity's not gone by a long shot, but it's just taken a serious blow. I'm almost beginning to feel that I can function normally again without it coloring my thoughts at all hours.
I take a bite of the included cupcake. It's flavored with tiny slivers of Heartbreakers, letting me savor it. Thanks to Gray, I'd learned what one of the candy's ingredients was recently. I don't know if it's what's keeping me sustained, but it wouldn't surprise me--the name "Zap Apple" is pretty telling. It is almost like it's emanating from the candy through the rest of the snack, even the frosting.
My eyes close as I continue to eat, and I start to relax as everypony quiets down. The air feels like it's vibrating a little, but it honestly feels somewhat soothing. I don't mind this in the least.
I don't know who it is that's speaking, but they seem friendly. "Oh, absolutely."
"I had a Zap Apple once. It felt like I'd been thunder-struck."
Somepony thinks they know their electricity puns. Alright, I'll play along. "Is that a positive or a negative?"
-Warning: Senses impaired.-
"A negative. Yes, a negative. It was bad enough that I felt like going ohm. A revolting development, wouldn't you say?"
On second thought, maybe I won't. It feels like they're trying too hard. I finish off the cupcake and turn to face the source of the voice. "Alright, that's quite enough," I say as I open my eyes, dismissing the message in my HUD---
---...!
I stumble back, almost falling off the stage. The form standing before me is unmistakable. "Honoré?! How?! Why?!"
He's exactly as I remembered him from his prime, but none of that's important. He's here, he's alive---
-Warning: Senses impaired.-
His hand takes mine, pulling me forward. ...And he's real. I dismiss the repeat message as I focus on Honoré, the surroundings melting away. "How did you get here?" I whisper.
He chuckles. "Leviathan, we have a lot to talk about. But that can wait for a few minutes, can't it? I haven't seen you in years."
I try to focus on what best to tell him, but the air feels so heavy. "You have no idea how much I need to apologize to you for..." I manage to speak.
-Warning: Senses impaired.-
I really wish that message would stop bothering me. It's keeping me from seeing what's important.
My face feels like it's on fire as Honoré pulls me closer still. I shut my eyes again, unwilling to face neither my embarrassment nor my joy as I receive what I lost many decades ago---
...
...
Wait. Something doesn't feel right. Many somethings, actually.
For one, the air positively reeks with sweat (yes, I know what I said). It doesn't feel like I'm holding onto human arms, but dragon scales. There's also the fact that the air's been vibrating for the past few minutes, and the object of my affection seeming much lighter than usual.
I don't want to let go, but by the same token I don't feel right letting these issues slide. So I open one eye to split the difference between my desires and my anxieties...
...
Illudere's muzzle is an inch away from my face---! "Kiss me, fat 'bot!"
-Warning: Senses impaired. Told you so.-
Leviathan's vision turned red immediately when she realized that Illudere had manipulated her again. With an angry yell she tossed her away, then summoned her Javelin and struck her while she was still in mid-air. The blade slashed through the chest plating on Illudere's armor, destroying it and propelling her off of the stage.
Finally, she remembered where she was. "Everypony, for your safety, get out of here!" she started to warn---
But the cry fell on deaf ears. There wasn't a single responsive individual in the crowd: everypony as far she could tell had collapsed to the ground. It wasn't just Gray, either: even Shining Armor and Cadance were effected. It was only their light snores that convinced her that Illudere hadn't wiped them all out in one fell swoop, only put them to sleep with one of her spells.
Seeing that everypony is still alive should help me, but it's not. Either that's some wicked control Illudere has, or she was trying to put me to sleep with that spell too.
Hopefully it's just a matter of waiting for everyone to wake up now. With the chest piece gone, the impact should've paralyzed or at least knocked her out---
"What's wrong? Are you mad?"
---but it hasn't. Illudere's rising from where she landed, unphased. Her horn and her scaly armor---the latter the color of eggs---are both shining like beacons. "Mad? What am I saying? You couldn't be mad. I'm the only one who deserves that adjective. I doubt you even know what the word means!"
My hands tighten. She couldn't have... "Where's Pure Energy?" I inquire. It's taking all of my self-control to keep my voice from breaking.
Illudere tilts her head. "Who?"
"Gray's child," I bite out. "Where is he?"
Illudere's left eye twitches. "So that's his name? Cutesy," she utters. "He's why I'm here, Asimov."
How does... no. Dropping that subject like a hot potato! "What?"
"That bouncy baby buggy brat is the bane of my being," she snarls with total vitriol. "He stole my crab for funsies, locked me in my room, and got away clean! I went here looking for him and found you instead!" The snarl twists into a face-splitting smile. "And wouldn't you know it, I couldn't resist the idea of stealing your 161st kiss. After all, before any destruction must come humiliation!"
...Words can't describe how utterly angry I am right now. She's pushing all of my buttons to get a reaction out of me, and she's succeeding. "When it comes to that last, you've done a top-notch job already," I state, my voice set to 'freezer burn'. I can feel my inner restraints starting to break.
"What, you mean my Luminous Cruelty? 'Twas nothing," Illudere counters modestly---is she blushing? "You'd fall asleep, dream of a world where everything turned out right, and never leave it. Receive everything you ever wanted, and everything you didn't know you wanted. Live out there, die out here. Except apparently it didn't work, because you're alive in here while dead out there!"
The restraints snap---!"You gave me everything and took it all away!" I scream back at her. "You made me question everything I'd worked for! You made me wonder whether there was any point to returning home at all! YOU MADE ME WANT TO GIVE UP!"
Illudere doesn't flinch, instead yawning as she strolls up to the stage. "Was that why I was called here? To have you shower me with compliments?"
"Grr---!" That does it. That. Does. It. "For the sake of my dignity..." I shift into my combat stance as I speak, fully aware that I'm at a severe disadvantage but just not caring anymore. "...for the sake of all of those you've misled, and for everypony in this city, you will freeze."
"Ooh, a stock revenge fight," Illudere croons. "How dull. If you want to play that way, then how about a stock reality check?"
The air feels heavier. I can swear that it's electrifying around me as it vibrates---Dear X, she's the one responsible for that---!
The surroundings shift and warp around us. The stage, everypony present except for the two of us, and Median Park itself all vanish. There's nothing but stone and grit everywhere until a wide platform of polished black marble takes shape beneath us. The sun is gone, and the sky is filled from horizon to horizon with rumbling clouds that have turned a menacing dark purple. Locks of Illudere's mane drift away from her face, offering an unimpeded view of her eyes. The crab that was hanging onto her drops to the ground and scuttles away, disappearing when it crosses an unseen threshold.
Through it all, her horn and armor continue to shine... and it's hitting me what I'm up against now. She shouldn't be able to effect the surroundings this much on her own. However it's working, they must have modified that armor somehow to act as a magic amplifier! My hands are shaking, and I'm beginning to recognize that fear is jockeying with my anger for position in my mind.
..."Jockeying?" Now I know I'm in trouble if I'm phrasing it like that. I said I didn't care about my disadvantage, but I'm thinking now that I was just deluding myself.
Illudere is howling. "Eh-hahahahaha... eh-hahaha-hah-hah! It's showtime, Leviathan! Welcome to the madhouse!" That sneer and those dilated eyes are more nightmarish than the surroundings she's created. As she continues talking, her neck and head twists one way with an audible snap, then the other. That had better have been part of the illusion, because there's no way that's natural. "Let me show you how to break your face and look like me!"
Illudere doesn't waste time targeting me after finishing her threat. Instinct drives me to quickly sidestep, and a pillar of darkness that roars through the space where I'd been a moment before tells me that I was right to do so. More of them, a series of seven, motivates me to keep running.
I hate this situation. No boots means no dash or double jump, I'm having trouble getting into an analytical mood after my outburst, and I'm trapped in a world of her creation. This is the worst possible scenario for me.
She's still chortling. "Some advice: don't think twice!" she calls, gathering magic into her horn. A second later, we've got two dozen fist-sized fireballs flying at me. They aren't just illusions, either: being in their proximity is giving me high heat warnings. How am I supposed to get through these without damage?
...Well thank you, faltering memories, for giving me an answer. I jump and spin, lashing my foot out. The Variable Weapons System responds, directing a crescent wave of ice through the fireballs. What few of them are left I can easily evade.
When I received it from Statuette, the Ice Slasher's description did tell me that it was effective against fire. If you're incredulous, you don't need to be: I already am.
Illudere doesn't like it much. She was probably counting on not having to move the entire battle and just whittle away at me at her leisure, but she's forced to duck to keep what's left of my attack--heated as it now was--from hitting her in the face. With a fierce cry she leaps at me a bit awkwardly, electricity crackling around one hoof. That's not going to effect me much, so I raise a hand to block---
---There's that thrumming sound again---!
Hammer blow, upper back, right between the shoulders, something other than electricity, WHAT? She was right in front of me! Not important, don't get off balance, don't get off balance---!
And of course she'd deliberately tap the back of my knee just to make me fall, the little miscreant. Wasn't even a full hit, just a nudge. I plant the Javelin into the ground to keep myself from dropping entirely, and I'm back on my feet in time to jump away from her before she can try again.
Illudere backs off a few steps. "Teleportation's for chumps," she coos in response to my brief protest. "In my world of pure imagination, you're nothing but chocolate!"
Would the world thank me for putting her down after a comment like that? Probably, but it affirms what's already happening. Between her spellcraft and however her suit's amplifying her, she has full control over the setting and how she interacts with it. She wants me to second-guess everything she does! "Then what's stopping you from willing Zero into existence and finishing this now?"
Illudere's smile actually widens. "There's an idea," she giggles, "but it's better to wait. It's not a tragedy if the protagonist doesn't suffer!" She pauses for a second after saying this, grimacing as if listening to something. Is that scraggly mane of hers hiding a radio? "Oh, come off it! I'm having fun here!"
Who's she talking to? ... Well, no matter who it is, I'd be a fool if I passed this up. I charge the Javelin with power, then let it rip. The wave crashes down on Illudere, shrouding her from nose to tail in ice.
Her dim view of reality might have granted her new heights of power, but unlike my previous foes, she's not in good physical condition. That awkward strike she pulled proved that to me. I don't think I can blame that on a magical over-reliance. She hasn't been taking care of herself on account of her mental health, so...
Though the arena hasn't disappeared yet, meaning her suit must still be active, leading to---
"Tsk-tsk. Attacking someone while they're on the phone," Illudere's voice rebukes me to my left, her frozen manifestation falling to pieces. How does she even know what a phone is---no, never mind. "You'll never get a reputation as an undying hero with that attitude."
"Being a Guardian comes first before heroics," I state. C'mon girl, keep it together. "Now are you going to fight me, or do you just love hearing yourself talk, charlatan?" Oof, poured a bit more vitriol into that than I would've liked.
"Charlatan?" Her eye twitches. "Charlatan?" So does her smile. "Charlatan, you say?" I don't think she enjoyed hearing that! "Infidel!" she finally screams, rearing up as the air pulses again. "My storytelling is the real deal! I won't hear a crocodile like you saying anything else!"
A lightning bolt similar to the one I was struck with my first day here drops from the sky. It's not as fast as normal lightning would be, but given the battle thus far I still don't want to be hit by it. Who knows what kind of attributes she's given it? I'm able to jump away in time, and despite the sheer force from the bolt striking the ground throwing me further, I'm able to roll back to my feet without issue.
Annoyed by the miss, Illudere reverts back to the darkness pillars she'd kicked off the fight with. This time they're coming a bit faster, move move move move run run run run---
"Grr!..." I can do without that annoying cat-calling, no no too close---!
...I think it was that shouting that threw me off. One of the pillars catches me and launches me end over end through the air. No time to re-orient myself, just have to trust the Javelin's homing capabilities and hope for the best!
The Javelin's spearhead detaches and flies at Illudere. I can't tell if she can see it coming or not with how I'm spinning---
"AAH!"
And that cry tells me that no, she didn't. Even more telling: ... my surroundings just distorted. They shook like a curtain placed over an air vent going at full blast when she made that noise. X alive, that's disorienting.
I grunt as I crash-land, landing heavily on my left arm. I'm receiving warnings of decreased motor control in that area, but it's far from enough to keep me from fighting. I force myself to my feet as quickly as I can and ready myself for Illudere's next attack.
...Wait a moment.
Illudere's horn was shining since she got here. Her magic is required to keep the illusions intact. They only distorted when she cried out, meaning...
...My attack managed to strike her horn!
I get a good look at her as she seethes and growls, not having pressed the advantage. It was likely just a glancing blow, since her horn's still intact. But if I can destroy the appendage entirely...
There's no telling what will happen. This could backfire on me, spell my doom along with those that I'm positive are close by. Even if the fight ends in my favor, I might lose my goodwill with the locals for resorting to this.
But the memories of everything she did to me are still very fresh in my mind. My apprehension is gone like an errant breeze. I want her out of my life, and out now.
Illudere's gotten her act together. In contrast to earlier, she's deadly calm. "Understood, Iggy," she mutters to whoever's on her radio, her voice for once not sounding cracked. "She'll be dead inside three minutes."
I've seen what happens what she has the advantage, and I'm not going to give her time to whip up anything new. My throwing arm's faster than the rest of me right now, so I take one step forward and hurl the Javelin at her with all of my strength. My aim is straight and true.
Illudere managed to materialize reinforcements with her magic in time to intercept my attack, following through on that pseudo-suggestion I made to summon Zero to kill me. But the being she summoned is not Zero, not by a long shot. "You told me to kill you with the final letter," she says, voice trembling but staying calm, "but since you insulted and hurt me, I think a different part of the alphabet suits you better."
The final letter? ...Oh, of course. Omega's the final letter of an ancient alphabet. So whoever she created must be named after a different letter of that same set. But how in blazes...?
He's a big fellow. Taller than I am, taller even than Bossa Nova, large and in charge. He's wearing armor with an unknown emblem across it, further adorned by a magnificent cape. No cranial protection and no hair, so yes: very bald. There's scars over his pupil-less, iris-less eyes... no telling what caused them. His other hand's holding what looks like an older model beam saber, left unlit for now.
This looks entirely too detailed to have been slapped together at the spur of the moment. Illudere had to have based this on something or someone, but what or who?
The constructs eyes me, appraises me... and laughs. It's a deep, grating and menacing sound that fits someone of the being's size. "Aquatic spawn of X," it proclaims, "is that the best you can do?"
I don't answer the apparition with words, only a kick. The Ice Slasher strikes it, making it flinch, and I immediately charge for where the Javelin landed. If I can utilize the Gatling Harpoon, I should be able to fire off enough projectiles that one of them will damage Illudere's horn beyond healing---
... ... ...
Leviathan's unfamiliarity with the construct could be forgiven. Its basis had long since ceased to exist, and the survivors of those constant attacks were more than eager to forget about him once more pressing needs and threats materialized. By the time of the Guardians' construction, much knowledge of the Maverick Wars and the one who spearheaded them had been lost, though the chaos of the Elf Wars was just as much to blame.
So she had no way of knowing that despite his size, the only Reploid who had more difficulty staying dead than Zero was much faster than she was in her current condition. The faux-Sigma's saber found its mark, carving into Leviathan's right shoulder and swiping across her back towards her left before finishing its arc. Taken off guard by the sudden searing pain, Leviathan stumbled and fell with a scream.
... ... ...
Illudere is cheering when I come to. I hate her for it.
I've been injured worse than this, but that was still an attack I couldn't afford to take, and---
There's pressure around my neck, and I'm losing all purchase with the ground. I'm being hoisted into the air by this giant of a warrior. I reach up, fighting past my pain to try and pry its hand loose, to find some means of continuing the fight, but its grip is too strong. Much too strong!
...I have to know. "Who a-are you?" I manage to gasp.
The apparition answers me with a smirk. "Ask your father in a few minutes, glacial Guardian," he suggests, raising his saber to stab me dead-center---
"Glacial"---! There's my out!
With both hands in contact, I activate my dry ice generators. The construct's arm up to the elbow is immediately encased in the coldest temperatures I can summon in any form. The entity hisses out of surprise and--to a lesser degree--pain, letting go of me in favor of shattering the substance. This lets me finish what I started and get within reach of the Javelin, scooping it back into my hands with some effort.
...And now that I have a split second to think: I'm fighting an old enemy of X?!"Illudere!" I bark at the observing unicorn, who's taken no real action since the warrior was spawned. I almost wonder why. "You know more about my world than you have any right to know! When were you there? How?!"
"I was there? Was not there," she corrects me, waggling a hoof mockingly. "But you'd be amazed at what you see when you reject one reality and substitute another. I lost my marbles years ago, and I don't regret not finding them. It means ponies slip and fall more easily!"
She knows so much because she's insane? That... makes no... "You. Complete and utter. Lunatic," I utter in a voice devoid of all emotion. Someone just pick up Equestria and swat Dr. Weil in the face with the entire country, because I am completely done with this. DONE, in all capitals and bolded, do you hear me?
"More than you know, and more than you'll ever know," Illudere replies as the construct finishes removing the dry ice off his arm. "We're on a time crunch, Siggy. End her tragedy of a life appropriately!"
"Don't presume to give me orders, unicorn," he warns her. "Push your luck too far, and you're next."
"Being shish-kabobed sounds like a pleasant fate, as long as Leviathan is right there on the skewer next to me," Illudere replies without hesitation. "Live or die, I have no issues as long as she bites it first." Though I'm betting that she can dispel him before he can get within range, if she cares even the slightest about preserving her life.
The apparition laughs, amused. "That's a wish I don't mind entertaining." He re-ignites his saber and shifts into a combat stance briefly, then charges at me at full throttle. "Die, child of X!"
I'm as ready to counter him as I'll ever be, but I'm not seeing any way out of this. I realize that I probably shouldn't be thinking like this, since anything goes in these circumstances, but Illudere's being a complete and total cheat. She had the odds stacked against me from the beginning, that skill set of hers is beyond absurd, her suit's charging her ability to channel and control magic beyond what I think unicorns ought to be capable of, and she's so dead-set on killing me that she cut to the chase and created a solid illusion of someone that far out-matches me as I am now.
She isn't fair! Nothing she's done comes close to it! There's nothing fun about this at all!
I can see the construct's saber slicing out at me, and I can feel the Javelin turning to block his attack. But it's barely registering. My mind is elsewhere.
Honoré, my first human friend. Gray Ghost, my first equine friend. My CPU's created a mental image of them standing side by side. Honoré's shaking his head, as if telling me that I learned the truth too late. Gray's softly smiling, her eyes sad and one foreleg slowly waving me good-bye.
I'm not leaving this fight alive.
The apparition's strikes are fast, precise, and powerful. I can block and deflect them, but I'm losing ground and he's not giving me time to counter. I don't have more than a half minute left at most.
It was easy before. Going into battle without a care, and giving little thought to dying if it was against a warrior I liked and respected. I don't have that now. Adding to that are all those I've ever directly interacted with as individuals: they've joined Honoré and Gray in my mind, all of them downcast or distressed at my impending destruction. Even Five-of-a-Kind looks uncharacteristically worried.
A shock interrupts my introspective: the saber has just caught me across my hands, and the Javelin unwillingly drops from them.
No, no, no! Please, not here! Cursed creation, not here! I don't want to---
The apparition laughs, aims the saber just so, and swings---
A silvery streak cuts across my vision, and I see it skim over Illudere's horn. She recoils in shock, and the battleground violently shakes for a few moments. The illusionary warrior looks absolutely dumbfounded as he breaks apart, dissolving into a mist of atoms and disappearing without any magic to hold him together. His saber had been two inches away from bisecting me.
I'm hyperventilating at that close call, even as I direct my auto-repair system to try and relieve some of the pain in my hands. I'm ecstatic to still be alive, but...
What just happened? Who just saved me?
Illudere's furious at this change in events, as well she should be. "Everyone's an infidel!" she shrieks, whipping her head from side to side. "Who's getting in my way? Get out here!"
"Shot through the mind, and you're to blame..."
"...!" I can't constrain my gasp. She shouldn't be here. She should NOT be here! This is no place for her! She said she wouldn't fight!
But she is here anyway. I can't stop her. Somepony like her, I doubt I ever could.
Illudere's head slowly turns to face the source of the voice. She's not angry anymore, and that's unsettling. She's smiling, and that smile's curving into the face-splitting grin that I've started associating with her.
Said grin reaches its zenith when Drama Heart---no, Burning Salamandra, she's sporting her dress and contact lenses---slowly walks past the illusion's boundaries, becoming fully visible. There's no mirth or enjoyment in her eyes for once, only a blaze barely contained. Her horn glows, and a large knife---the silver streak that I saw a moment ago---hovers next to her. "...you give stage plays a bad name," she finishes.
I stoop down to pick up my weapon cautiously. Salamandra had dispelled Illudere's trump card, but the situation doesn't feel right to me. What's stopping her from just re-summoning him? She has more than enough power for it. And why hasn't she attacked my patron yet?
I give a start as I realize something important. If Drama had been awake the entire time... And for that matter, why did I not see her in the crowd earlier? She's hard to miss!
Drama Heart hadn't planned on arriving at the gathering so late, but a minor annoyance had cropped up earlier that she didn't want to set aside for later.
Her neighborhood's mailpony had stopped by not long before she was to leave. She'd taken a minute to sort through the messages she'd received. A large amount of it was for Leviathan, her popularity reaching new heights after recent events, but there were a few that weren't. One of them she opened immediately, and she took a little time to read an update from her baby sister and write one in return. The others she set aside, deciding to tackle whatever concerns the writers had later.
That would've been the end of it, except she happened to get a good look at the addresses on that remaining mail: they hadn't been intended for her at all. The Pyre's address was at 319 13th Street, but these were supposed to go to 913 13th Street instead, six blocks down. Huffing but deciding that this couldn't wait, she decided to get the mail to the correct recipient immediately. The tired old pony who lived at that location expressed his thanks for her prompt action, promising to notify the local post office at the first opportunity.
After arriving at Median Park via a taxi, she had to take a few more moments to assure somepony that the items she was carrying with her were not dangerous, only props meant to entertain. Once she had proven that they were safe (as long as they weren't misused, obviously), she was finally allowed to enter.
As Drama progressed further in, she felt increasingly uneasy. Unless there was something serious happening, there was no way the Park should be this quiet. Even on a calm day, there should have been plenty of background noise, but she was only hearing the odd bit of yelling and screaming. When she reached the area where the get-together was to be held, she understood why, and the truth scared her.
Everypony was asleep, with occasional snoring being heard. Only a few were awake: Leviathan, another alien warrior that out-massed them both combined, and Drama's ex-rival. Her well-practiced eyes recognized the illusionary curtain that had been dropped around a wide area, and she suspected it looked vastly different in there than out here. She further realized that the enemy warrior was an illusion given physical form confined behind the curtain, unable to leave its boundaries but still very dangerous.
This was beyond anything Drama could do. She could create illusions, yes, but nothing that posed an active threat to the real world. Her heartsongs didn't qualify, as the effects rarely lasted more than a few minutes, if at all. A small part of her was frightened at the power Illudere now harnessed, knowing that she was not cut out for this encounter.
The rest of her was infuriated at the sight of Sugarplum, somepony she viewed as a pathetic excuse for a showmare who didn't think things through, attacking her friend. She steeled herself despite her rapidly beating heart and moved forwards, gritting her teeth as she listened to the conversation taking place.
She took a quick look around to see if she could wake somepony up and have them back her up. It didn't take long for her to find Gray, and for a moment she considered her... then she noticed somepony else who was asleep nearer to the battle. Somepony who stood a much better chance at stopping Illudere than either of them did, provided his reputation was all it was cracked up to be.
As the unknown warrior charged Leviathan, Drama crept up to the pony she'd chosen and shook him a few times, hissing urgently in his ears. Once she was positive that the pony was starting to awaken, she squinted past Illudere's curtain at her target. She raised one of the props she was carrying, aimed... and let it fly with all the magical force she could muster.
Take the stage.
Illudere's pleased as punch. That probably won't last, judging from Sally's face. "Sal-a-man-dra!" she greets her, drawing out each syllable. "I haven't seen you in what, years? Have you lost weight? I think you've lost weight. Little pudge-girl ain't so pudgy no more."
"We both know you've always hated me," Salamandra tells her evenly. "Stop pretending that you dropped your grudge."
"Hate you? No, I could never hate you!" Illudere denies. "It's your arts and crafts that deserve to burn! And your storytelling! And your theater, preferably with you still inside it! ...Aw, who am I kidding? I want to add you to my cauldron of crazy!"
"I'm finding it difficult to believe you were once a decent pony," Sally answers. She's doing a fantastic job of holding back her anger. "After that incident, I learned you used to be the same as me: somepony who just wanted to entertain. And you did a good job of it, too. Then my approach to entertainment riled you up for reasons I never understood, and you decided to do what it took to be superior to me."
Illudere rolls her eyes. "So ever-loving dense. That's what I love about you. Do you have any idea how twisted the concept of a 'horror show' is? The plays of tradition are where it's at."
"You couldn't be satisfied with drawing modest crowds and making a living off your work," Sally continues, not letting herself get drawn into a debate. "No. You saw my approach get results similar to yours, and you decided 'that can't be right'. So you let yourself take our business rivalry too seriously. You began doing things you previously would not have done.
"Whenever you saw me draw larger crowds than you---which did not happen as often as you thought it did---you decided 'no, I'm doing this wrong'. You threw yourself into magical studies, trying to learn new illusionary styles, new ways of entertaining ponies that had more to do with your presentation than the quality of your stories. And then you made the absolutely boneheaded mistake of trying to not just learn a dangerous spell, but to do so without supervision!"
Illudere's not saying anything. She's discarding her affability piece by piece, I can tell. Salamandra's tearing her apart, spelling out everything that's wrong with her and deliberately making her angry. I'd consider it a master work if she wasn't, you know, still in grave danger.Seriously, Sally, you need to get out of there while you still can!
My mental pleas go unanswered. The beat goes on. "I acknowledged the rivalry, but I had the good sense... or at least enough of it... not to take it seriously. I didn't care about one-upping anypony. All I wanted was to make a living off of scaring ponies, and I enjoyed it. I was content with my lot in life. Not you. You couldn't leave well enough alone. You started looking down on me. You decided to do what it took to prove yourself my superior. In a way, I guess you did. That warrior I saw on my way in is something I could never create even if I wanted to.
"Only one problem: you threw yourself away. Because of all the errors in judgment you made, your mind's a half-damaged shell. You lost sight of your old life of entertainment in favor of a completely haphazard, chaotic course. If you hadn't let your dislike of me blossom into something worse, I would have conceded our rivalry to you when I moved to Manehattan, and none of this would be happening. But no. You've become a threat to this city, and you're trying to kill one of my friends at her weakest. Shut your eyes and say good-night, Illudere: one way or another, I'm closing the book on your fairy tale."
...Wow. Talk about an act for the ages.
There are one or two points where Illudere actually looks like she's actually listening: her ears stand up straight, her pupils look more like normal ovals than pinpricks, and her grin vanishes in favor of solemn acknowledgment. As soon as Sally finishes speaking, though, all of that's gone. The electric humming prevalent throughout the battle returns in force, and darkness itself roars in unison with Illudere's cry. "Enough! Enough of this, and enough of you!"
A knife of her own, like Salamandra's but sharper, forms next to her. "I am the superior performer, Drama Heart! You said so yourself! Means that I have no regrets while I filet you like a salmon!"
Sally levels her knife at Illudere. It sparkles a little: one of her little tricks at work. "Mine's still sharper."
"GRRHH---!"
She's pushed past the breaking point now. Illudere's laying into Salamandra with a flurry of knife slashes. All of them are easily telegraphed and deflected, giving further credence to my earlier thoughts that she's not a true fighter per se. Of course, it's not like Salamandra's much better: while she's keeping herself from getting hit, her defenses are clumsy and unstable. Again: civilian entertainer, with no desire to harm others.
I consider my options. I'm not being paid attention to. I could rejoin the fight right now, but that would end with Illudere turning her full power back on us both immediately. All of my attack choices that could disable her horn would put Sally in danger just from how close they are.
I hate to say it, but it looks like my best choice is to wait for an opportune moment to finish this. Illudere's so angry that she's forsaken her arsenal in favor of a direct attack, and I don't want to ruin that just yet.
Sally's on the attack now, lashing out with a variety of pokes and slices. Illudere giggles madly, turning aside them all and calling out with each successful maneuver she makes. "Ho! Ha ha! Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Ha! Thrust!"
Her eyes make contact with Sally's upon uttering that last word!---
A spherical shield snaps into place before I can warn Sally to get away. Instead of covering us, it covers Illudere. What is---!
...
Her horn stops glowing, followed by her armor. Our surroundings disintegrate without fanfare, and just like that we're back in Median Park again. Her jaw falls slack, and her eyes adjust back to normal size just before they close. Her knees wobble before her legs lose their ability to support her, and she collapses onto the stage like---fittingly---a puppet with its strings cut.
...
I just barely remember not to lose my grip on the Javelin. "What in Equestria...?" I breathe, not daring to relax. "Salamandra, did you...?"
"Wasn't me, dearie," she denies. "I knew I was going to fry if I joined this dance alone, so before going in I roused the pony who stood the best chance of putting her down permanently." She turns and smirks off to the side. "Thanks for the backup, Captain. Nice timing!"
I follow her eyes to see a certain pony standing up straight where I'd last seen him. Shining Armor is the only one that has shaken off the sleep spell Illudere placed on everypony. "Inverted shield," he explains, visibly miffed at what he's just witnessed. "It keeps spells from leaving instead of entering."
As the good Captain turns to try and wake up Cadance, I consider what this means. Whatever it was that Illudere planned on hitting Salamandra with, she hit herself with it instead thanks to that shield. It was clearly intended to be a one hit knockout to allow her to get back to killing me, but... "What was it she was trying to attack you with?" I ask Sally. "A bog-standard sleep spell of some kind, like the one used on the audience?"
Salamandra gets in close to Illudere and examines her, checking her breathing and pulse. Her face darkens as she straightens. "Symptoms aren't quite the same. It's too soon to tell without a professional here, but it could've been the same spell she used on you."
...Did my generators malfunction? I think they just froze for a moment, because there's nothing else that explains this chill I'm feeling right now. "And you're positive that there's no known cure for this?"
"None," she confirms. "That first victim would've woken up a long time ago if there was."
The Luminous Cruelty.
I have a vague idea as to why I was able to wake up from it, though forgive me if I'm not about to conduct any tests to prove this. My CPU was able to detect an outside influence on it, and--for the lack of a better countermeasure--overclocked my systems in an attempt to get rid of it quickly. This was how it covered two-point-three centuries in just seven hours, at the cost of more than half my Energen and five-sixths my dignity. It's a hypothesis at best, but it's all that I have.
I had the means of surviving it at full power. Ponies don't have that ability. For them, one day in the dream is equal to one day without. If Shining Armor had been too slow, and Salamandra had been hit with that spell...
Cadance is becoming more alert, but I don't care who's hearing this right now. "Do you have any idea what just happened? Do you?" I tell Sally sharply. "I'm not saying I don't appreciate the help, because I do, but if the Captain had been a hair slower you'd have been spending the rest of your life in a coma!"
"And if I'd been a hair slower you'd have been two Reploids instead of one," she counters. "You think I don't know these things?"
My injuries burn at that reminder. "Sally, this is exactly why I don't want civilians involved in my missions!" I try to tell her. "I'm one of the Four! Conflict like this has been part of my being since I was first set loose! I knew what I was doing when I first walked onto the battlefield! I cannot condone somepony who has straight up admitted to me that they don't want to get involved in this getting involved in this anyway!"
Salamandra grimaces at that, but continues. "I saw what was going on and who you were fighting, and I went for it! I didn't come here prepared for a fight, but I know Illudere's mind better than anypony here! And I just got done telling you that I got backup first, so you can't tell me I didn't know what I was doing!"
Putting the Javelin away for the sake of pointless gesturing. "That's not the point! When you say you're not going to fight, you don't fight! Don't throw your life away because of me, because---"
Salamandra---no, Drama, her teeth and eyes are normal now---interrupts me. "---Because why? Because you had things in hoof? Because you're not worth it?"
I start at this. Because I'm not worth it? Was that what I was about to say? "I..."
"On the one hoof, she's right that you shouldn't have gotten involved," Shining Armor interjects sternly, addressing Drama first. Cadance is back on her hooves, so now he's playing referee again. He turns to me next. "On the other, Salamandra's right that her intervention saved your life. So, maybe the both of you can take this as a lesson of some kind? We can all agree that we don't want this situation to repeat itself, right?"
...Wow, Captain. Way to take the wind out of our sails. I'm not sure what to say. "Well..."
Mildly blushing, Drama looks off to the side, chastised by Shining's words. "Okay. So..." She sighs. "I'm sorry that I made you worry. You're one of my friends, Fairy. I didn't want to see you die. You get that, right?"
...I'm starting to get the drift of what that statement means coming from somepony else. I get it, Drama. Really, I do. "The same. Thank you for saving my life, Sally." I try to offer a bow, but my upper back hates that. Ouch. Better deal with those right now. "Before this goes on, could you help me deprive Illudere of her armor? If she's carrying Reddocite, I need it immediately."
While she assists me in this task, numbers are churning in my mind. What do the results think of me this time?
...Alright. That's fair. That construct I fought was powerful, it came close to killing me twice, and I count myself lucky that my spine wasn't severed. It did more damage to me than Illudere herself could. I should be happy that I'm still alive.
"...!"
Happy... that I'm alive...?
I am. ...I am...!
As we finish pulling the armor off Illudere and find the Reddocite she'd hidden, I hear a lit horn. "Let's see if I can still remember that spell that Auntie taught me," Princess Cadance murmurs as I turn to her. She's facing the crowd, and from the looks of things she's getting ready to wake them up all at once. I'd best leave her to this.
I sit down, then shatter the Reddocite next to me. None of the damage wrought in the crafted world carried over to reality, so I and part of the stage torn apart by the mailmare were the only things that were fixed.
A new VWS technique and my optics' Lock-On system are now both online, but even the demonstration of the former feels more like an afterthought now. I'll think about those later.
Right now, all I want to do is enjoy this powerful feeling of relief. I've never felt like this before. Illudere's down for the count, and once the Police are awake and aware they're going to take her away from me. I barely escaped death. I've got ponies here backing me up when I need it. The feeling that I can try to return to where I belong is returning. It's enough to make me want to...
...Oh, why not? I'm ecstatic, and she's been wanting this from day one!
I'm alive.
Alive!
ALIVE!
"What?..."
Drama nearly jumped when Leviathan reached out and grabbed her, hugging her close. She quickly stilled: unlike at the Golden Bell, the Reploid wasn't sorrowful. Instead, she was laughing as hard as she'd been before Illudere had come along and almost ruined everything.
No anger. No sadness. No mania. Just joy in its purest form.
Drama smiled, relaxing. She would've preferred to be the one doing the hugging, but this was nice too.
As Cadance finished prepping her spell and cast it across the field, gently waking up everypony who had been afflicted, Leviathan gradually settled down. She remained sitting, not ready to break the moment; likewise, Drama too stayed where she was. Later, they would note that it was the first time they truly and mutually enjoyed each other's company. For now, despite the threats that loomed ahead, peace reigned in Median Park.
...
...
"That's not a real knife, is it?"
"Nope. Just a mish-mash of foam and papier-mâché, but she didn't know that."
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
"Thanks. I get that a lot."
The Next Day...
...
I have my equipment back. I made a quick side-trip to the corner of the Park after Cadance woke the crowd, and I was able to help break the safe open and reclaim what was mine.
For the moment, that's not important. I'll share that experience with you when I have an hour or two to spare. Getting some closure to my recent experiences is more meaningful to me. Thus, why I'm currently paying one of the city's hospitals a visit.
Illudere lays completely still on her bed, barring her slow breathing. The life support systems she's hooked up to are quietly doing their jobs, keeping her sustained.
I'm half-expecting her to wake up on the spot and start tormenting me again. Drama reminds me that no, she's not going to. She's locked in a world created by the Luminous Cruelty, and unlike me she's never going to wake up again. She's not dead, but she might as well be.
Even then, there's a magic restriction ring donated by the MRPD placed around her horn, keeping her pacified as a "just in case" measure. She's not a threat anymore, and I need to come to grips with that fact in order to fully move on.
Two ponies walk into the room, escorted by the doctor. They introduce themselves as Illudere's parents, having taken the train here from Baltimare as soon as they received the news. They were estranged, the stresses and worries brought about by their grown-up daughter going insane having split them apart. It's only after they learned that she was now in a permanent coma that they were able to put their differences aside and see her one more time.
The mother places an old teddy bear next to Illudere's head, just out of the way of the equipment. "Her favorite childhood toy," she explains. "You have to understand that she wasn't always a monster, Miss Robot. She was once a child like the rest of us, with hopes and dreams of her own." She sighs. "If we'd done a better job of raising her, figured out how to teach her not to be so hyper-fixated on things..."
"Hate Illudere all you want," the father continues, tone downcast. "I encourage you to. But save your hatred specifically for her. Don't hate Sugarplum."
Trying to have that sort of mindset towards somepony who mistreated me several lifetimes over isn't as easy as that. But at the same time I can see how much they care about somepony who was once their daughter, so I stay close-mouthed on the topic. "Are you planning on having her moved back to Baltimare?"
Both parents nod. "We intend to keep her on life support for as long as we can afford it," the father admits. "It might be just for a year or two, we don't know. We're not rich by any means."
"That would be fine with me." I avert my eyes from them back towards Illudere's face. That peaceful sleeping visage looks entirely alien on her. "For the sake of my emotional health, it's for the best if I never see her again."
"We understand, Miss Robot." The mother presses a hoof against my hand, tears lining her eyes. "Thank you for stopping her before she could do any more damage. We're indebted to you."
Technically it was Drama and Shining Armor that stopped her, not me, and I tell them that. They make a note to thank the Captain as well, and turn towards my friend to offer their gratitude...
All conversation stops as Drama, who had remained silent for the past several minutes, starts humming. It's not one of her grandiose tunes, rather being so quiet that only those of us in the room can hear. It feels like it could almost be a lullaby, a slow and haunting one worthy of Salamandra. Of the two of us, Drama's the one with the most history with Illudere, so it's only fitting that she be the one to give her a sendoff worthy of a performer.
"The takeaway of time the mistakes of many the dreams of the common the horrors aplenty
Disasters have been wrought Senselessness your mission Ultimately, your path you couldn't envision..."
She looks out the window, still surprised at the "For Sale" sign hanging outside the Pyre and wondering what could have prompted her chosen rival to decide to move to Manehattan. She'd been doing so well, too.
Tomorrow's going to be a nice day, so she decides to close the building and spend time with her friends and family. She smiles at the crab perched atop her head, feeling an odd sense of familiarity.
There was no Leviathan. No Cocoa Mocha. All of the high-tier threats that would have threatened Equestria later on never showed themselves here.
In a world that never existed, her damaged mind was finally in repose. There she would remain for the rest of her life, what little of it there was likely to be. A bit too good for her in light of her actions, some might say, but still a better outcome than they would ever realize.
Rest in peace, Sugarplum Spotlight, and may you never trouble another soul again.
It's the middle of the night right now, and I'm sitting at the bottom of the ocean near the bridge. I decided some 'me' time was on the docket, and I want to get things sorted out. Let me bring you up to date.
By and large, there was confusion when the crowd woke up from their unexpected naps yesterday, and not entirely because I was hugging Drama while Illudere was collapsed close by. We all took a few minutes to explain what happened. After the initial ruckus died down, the MRPD officers in attendance stepped forward to collect Illudere, slap a restriction ring on her horn, cart her off to the hospital, and confiscate her armor to send back to Headquarters.
I think it would be pretty funny if they gave the armor to Drama, but it probably won't happen.
Speaking of humor, there was a bit of panic when Gray stayed asleep longer than everypony else. Then that Juniper Leaf pony produced a little plant out of a satchel and held it near her for a few seconds, and she snapped awake and snatched it away from her immediately. I was told later that the plant is something that some cats apparently go crazy over. Don't ever change, my friend.
Cadance suggested a short break so that the crowd could come to terms with what they were told. There was some murmuring, but they concurred. Knowing what was at the corner of the Park, I decided to take this opportunity to reclaim what was mine. Gray and Shining Armor agreed to give me an escort while Drama went to interact with Gilbert's group.
Thinking about it, I can talk about my recollection mission in some more detail. Something interesting of note came up... A couple interesting somethings, actually. Try not to be put off by the linguistic time shift.
When we get to the safe, the ponies guarding it snap to attention and salute Shining and I. "We just heard from the higher-ups," they tell us, or more specifically Gray. They must've been briefed on her case. "One of your kids turned up safely at Headquarters."
Gray gasps, and her ears stand up straight. "Pure Energy's okay?" she asks anxiously, having been informed of who Illudere had failed to look after.
The pony taps his chin, then smiles. "Right, thanks. Almost forgot his name. Yes, he's safe and unharmed. They're saying he outsmarted one of the kidnappers and escaped where they were holding him. Something about 'offending a residence'. Last they said, he was talking about it over donuts."
Shining and I chuckle as Gray sags with relief. "Sounds like something he'd say, that little rascal," she comments, shaking her head with a smile. "What about the others? Have you heard anything about them?"
"Not yet, Mrs. Gray. We're sorry."
"Yeah, I guess that was too much to ask for," Gray says with some disappointment. "Well, guess I'll have to wait a little bit longer to see them again."
"Do you want to go and pick him up?" I suggest. "I don't mind."
She seems torn up over my offer for a bit. "Thanks, but I'll stick around here until that safe's cracked. He's in good hooves," she finally decides, sounding like she's trying to convince herself of that. Her ears start twitching.
"If you say so. Well, then---"
"Excuse me a moment, Levi," Gray interrupts, her tail waving about in time with her ears. She sounds irritated now. "There's an insult to my ears close by." She turns and presses herself down near the ground, then darts into a nearby copse of oak trees.
Shining and the officers turn to look at me, wanting answers. I have none to give, so I just shrug.
It doesn't take long for a fight to break out among the trees, alerting us. Gray's growling and hissing are interwoven with vague mechanical sounds and shots being fired, one of which is intercepted by Shining Armor's shield when it flies out at us. The shots are at a lower pitch than those from Magiflies. Maybe this is that new type of drone I was told about this morning?
The conflict ends with a loud 'smash', and Gray returns to us. She's dragging a shattered drone by its tail with her teeth, looking none the worse for wear from her brief spat. Shining raises an eyebrow, but has no other reaction; the guards are more surprised. "Any idea what this is supposed to be?" she asks after letting go.
Shining raises a hoof to his chin. "I've never seen anything like this. Looks like a metal chameleon."
"Or a frog," one of the guards suggests, getting over his befuddlement.
There's evidence for both. "Chamelog?" I suggest. "Or Fromeleon?"
"Let's just go with the first one," Gray decides. "I left a few pieces behind at those trees, so..."
"We'll get the cleanup crew out here immediately, Mrs. Ghost," the first guard promises as the second one trots off to the side, speaking into his radio. "Are you hearing any others?"
Gray listens carefully, then shakes her head. "No."
"Whew," the guard sighs. "I was hoping I wouldn't see any action today. So General, about the safe?"
"Sure," I agree, walking up to it. "Why hasn't the Department opened it up yet?"
"We can stand near it just fine, but we can't open it," the guard explains. "If we mess with it too much, it triggers some kind of magic field that launches us away." He winces. "I, uh, might have tried to open it myself this morning just to see if I could. I'll have to see a chiropractor after work."
Interesting. Though I wonder... "It that just from the front, or is the entire safe protected that way?"
"The front and the sides," the guard clarifies. "The back of it doesn't have any real defenses that I can tell, but I imagine it doesn't need them. I mean, an inch of solid steel should be an effective deterrent, right?"
... ...It should, but happily we have a way of bypassing that. "Gray?"
"Sure, let me check," she agrees, trotting to the back of the safe.
"What is she doing?" the second guard wonders, having finished notifying HQ of our unexpected eavesdropper.
"Watch and see," Shining says with a grin. I have to nudge my memory into alignment, but I think he recalls my duel with her. "This should be good."
It looks to be. Gray's hoof passes through the steel without any resistance, triggering jaw drops from both guards. I don't have Drama's camera with me, sadly, so I can't take a picture to look at later. I promise that it's funny. Shining thinks so: I can hear him suppressing laughter.
Gray presses herself against the back of the safe as she continues to reach around, then withdraws her foreleg while stepping away. "They're in there. I can tell at least that much," she confirms, huffing a little. "But I can't get a good hold on them without my claws, and if I try to reach in farther then I risk hitting the sides."
I consider the situation. "I could freeze it," I suggest. "Assuming the steel isn't alloyed, my coldest temperatures below dry ice should make it brittle enough that I can break through with a few stabs. If it is alloyed, that gets a bit trickier, but I feel it's worth a try."
I go on to explain that I wouldn't be much of a fighter if my weapon couldn't cut through steel. I would still need to be careful to keep the Javelin from striking the sides, however. Getting thrown around by Illudere was bad enough. Experiencing the same thing via an inanimate object would just be insulting.
Gray remarks that the way things are going, our adversaries probably planned for this and used the toughest-grade steel they could get their hooves on just to make things more difficult for me. It wouldn't stop me, but it would still take unnecessarily longer. Probably would cause some collateral damage, too...
A voice speaks up, and we turn to see who's talking. "If I may, Miss Leviathan? Please permit me to take a crack at it."
The pony approaching us from the way we came... I've seen her before, I realize. Adolescent, brown coloration, frilly dress... she was with that one pony who had gotten thoroughly steamed at me in the recent past. My memory tags her as Caramel Mocha.
WARNING: Class-A threat registered. Not currently hostile.
Our visitor introduces herself to us properly, respectfully nodding to Shining and I while giving Gray and the destroyed drone a strange look. (Gray just strange-looks her right back.) "I had wished to speak with you before you left today," Caramel explains. "As such, I would like to expedite your dilemma."
"What are your credentials?" Shining immediately asks.
"My family has practiced an exclusive and esoteric form of martial arts for generations, Captain. I am years, maybe decades away from perfecting it, but what I have should still be satisfactory. All that is required would be for Miss Leviathan to weaken the metal with her abilities, and I can remove any worries about such things as precision or power."
Caramel holds up a hoof to forestall any protests. "I would also like to point out that you have nothing to lose by allowing me to try," she continues, "beyond one or two minutes of your time. And if you are wondering how martial arts can 'possibly break through metal' when they're commonly associated with bricks and stacks of wooden boards, those one or two minutes are all I need to make you stop asking."
Everypony is silent, either unsure or bemused. Me? I'm smiling at her verbose statements. "Sick of explaining it to ponies?"
"Oh my alicorn, you have no idea how many demonstrations we've been asked to give by the staff just because they don't believe it," Caramel complains. She catches herself and clears her throat, embarrassed. "Right. I apologize for my breach of decorum. If I may?"
...
There's a bit of discussion before Shining Armor agrees, and it requires me to remind him of how my threat scanners work. At Gray's duel, I'd told him that he and Cadance were Class-A level. My level. As soon as I was certain he remembered that, I told him that Caramel is also part of that stratum and that my systems are incapable of deceiving me. For some reason, I could hear her breath hitch when I gave that revelation.
Gray's watching carefully.
With that out of the way, I can finally get to work. I stoop down and press my hands against the back of the safe. An ice layer takes form, and I keep my hands where they are as I count off the seconds. I idly note the particles flying off the sides and top as the ice fails to establish holds there.
...Alright. This should be long enough. I stand up and back away from the safe. "It's all yours."
Caramel trots up without a word. Her eyes slide closed, and she takes a deep breath. She lifts an inch off the ground, wings flapping as her front hooves are freed up for use. Something coils across her body and clothing, outlining her in cyan as the on-lookers make assorted awed sounds. Her hooves raise a few centimeters, first one, then the other---
---she's moving. With the speed I've come to expect of pegasi, Caramel's pummeling the safe quickly enough that I'm comparing the cacophony to an industrial power generator. I can see hoof-shaped indents rapidly forming, caving the metal in. She's not bothered by coming in contact with the ice, maintaining her assault for a full three seconds without flinching.
For those three seconds, my systems are trying to analyze how Caramel's augmenting herself. Some of it is magic for sure, but the rest of it I'm having trouble identifying. She's not a cyborg or anything like that: I'm not detecting any implants or otherwise integrated tech. How is she doing this?
Caramel's strikes stop, and she withdraws her hooves from the now crumpled metal. The cyan outline fades out of existence. She exhales, the puff of breath brushing against the safe---
---and the entire backside caves in and collapses like shattered glass.
The park is silent.
"Not as impressive as it should be," Caramel huffs, correctly guessing what we're all thinking. "My grandfather at his peak could demolish this within one second, with cleaner results and without weakening the metal. It took three seconds and..." She waves a hoof at the debris. "...this for me to accomplish the same thing. I still have a long way to go."
"...So many questions," Shining finally remarks with awe, "so little time."
"And most of them I would have to answer with 'trade secret'," Caramel tells him apologetically. "We don't share our techniques with those outside of the school. Period. This isn't out of a lack of desire to talk about it, do understand. But I shouldn't have to tell you about the disaster that would befall Equestria if somepony unsavory and ambitious were to go about mastering them. We can't take that chance."
"Say no more, child," Gray answers gently, the least surprised by what we've just seen. The others are in agreement with her. "We understand."
Did Caramel just flinch at that? I can't tell; my eyes are on what's inside the safe.
The first to return to me is the helmet. I pull it out and place it back on my head where it belongs, locking it in place. The boots are next, and I sit down just long enough to pull them on and secure them. I promise, I will never take my possessions for granted again.
My CPU initiates a diagnostic scan the moment I'm back on my feet. The final numbers are beautiful: my power output's at 90%, my Energen levels are almost completely full thanks to that odd cupcake, and everything else is 100% across the board. How I've missed this...
"Back in action?" I hear Gray ask.
I smile at them all, and they give me the same. "Back in action," I confirm, my words a level shy of euphoric.
Solar Energy Backup offline. Reconfiguration in process; do not interrupt. Please wait.
Analyzing core. Software under construction. Scanning subroutines. Priority set to "low".
...
..."a robot must never harm a"---
... ... ...
Alright, almost everything else. I'm not getting a response from my solar backup. My querying isn't getting any answers beyond 'do not interrupt'. It's not life-threatening, but it's still bothersome.
What's with my systems carrying out these minor operations without my say-so? And what are these short strings of text? That makes... one, two... three of them now, I think. Is there some sort of importance to them?
I think there's a time stamp on them... ...yes, there is. The first one started when I was found at the Golden Bell. It's not telling me more than that. This is relevant somehow, too, but the answers are eluding me.
None of this is slowing down my ability to operate. It's background noise at worst. To illustrate, imagine you're working at the Manehattan Public Library. There's only two ponies in the building: you, and a casual reader. You're off in one corner getting some work done. Meanwhile at the opposite corner, a page is turned. It's so faint that it just barely tickles the edge of your hearing, if you even hear it at all. That's what it feels like to me.
Maybe it's because I've gotten used to these things, but I'll just worry about it if my ability to go about life is jeopardized. The peculiarity of it pales next to the cupcake in the envelope. Still, I'm not going to forget this.
Gray, Shining, and the guards are talking to each other quietly, and Caramel's taking me aside for some brief words of her own. "I've been wondering about this for days," she says. "I'd never seen my sister so angry before. Do you know why she was acting like that?"
Oh. Right. That incident. "I don't know," I admit. My earlier giddiness is shelved for the moment. "Unless there's something about my publicized past that she didn't like, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Or maybe she's upset because I decided I didn't want to be used as an advertising gimmick?"
"Maybe something deeper than that," Caramel decides, disappointed. "You've probably heard in the paper, but Hazelnut's undergoing cancer treatments. I'd assumed at first that she was cranky because she was hurting so much before, but..."
I shiver at the memory of that life-threatening glare. "I hope that's all that is. I'm sorry, but I don't have any answers for you. If we meet again after her recovery and she's still angry, then I'll agree it's something deeper. Until then..."
"...just wait and see," she concludes. She closes her eyes for a few moments and nods. "Sorry for bothering you. I hope your day's an improvement over earlier." She turns and trots away back towards the gathering, leaving me to wait for the others to finish their conversation.
There isn't much to say about the party after that. Gray took off to retrieve Pure Energy, and I went back to enjoy myself. The crowd was happy to see me back with my equipment. On a whim, I underwent a few of my more intensive training exercises on-stage; I got to have some fun, everypony enjoyed themselves watching, and a good time was had by all.
Aside from that one pony off in the corner who was busy painting. She never dropped her serious face for anything. I vaguely remembered her as that obsessive fan from Madisoat, and wondered to myself why she was at the Park.
I was able to have a casual conversation with Gray's old caretaker. Juniper Leaf tries to keep herself in the know where new developments in science and magic are concerned, and I was able to give my thoughts on the former. She was intrigued by some of the more mundane advancements Neo Arcadia had on tap, and expressed her hopes that Equestria would someday develop something similar. She admitted that she wouldn't live to see any of it come about, but at least it didn't dim her interest.
The party lasted for two hours after my return, though it took longer to fully break up. I thanked Gilbert profusely for getting the ball rolling, spent some time catching up with Turkey Bowl, talked to that Wonderbolt rep about the training she was giving Gray and my partners, stopped Drama from accidentally scarring Babs Seed for life, and had another arm wrestling match with Bossa Nova (obviously I lost, but it was the principle of the thing).
Before they left, I thanked Shining Armor for saving Drama's life--to which he modestly answered that he was doing his job--and petitioned Cadance to see if she or Celestia could get more details from that one elderly unicorn. If she really did go to Earth somehow, I need to know more.
Almost forgot: I found that crab Illudere had with her. It seemed friendly, and it didn't resist when I picked it up and took it someplace it could be safely released. It even waved good-bye at me with a pincer before going on its merry way. Cute little thing.
All in all my day started off as a 'bummer', as Gilbert would put it, and ended on a very high note. As to how my enemies waiting in the wings viewed it all on account of Illudere's defeat, I can only speculate...
-"Not gonna lie, I'm not upset to see her go,"- Gates bluntly informed Ignition after Illudere's fate was confirmed. -"Having a magic user on our side was not worth dealing with her."-
"Her time with us was nearing its end even without taking this into account," Ignition said in full agreement. "Once the coup was successful, Quarter would likely have subdued her and returned her to the asylum she was taken from. With our biggest enemies crushed, Project Ashes well on its way to completion and 'Stratos' having left the city, there would have been little left for her to do. And for somepony like her, the old expression about 'idle hooves' would be magnified tenfold."
-"So, Leviathan got her stuff back?"- Calico wanted to know.
"Without question. Gray Ghost detected and destroyed our spy, but we don't need it to know that we're at a disadvantage again."
-"Doesn't that violate the terms of the challenge?"- Bushwhacker asked. -"She said that she wouldn't take any sort of action against us."-
"What we agreed upon was that the Ghost would begin taking part in the hostilities in the event of a violation. Illudere knowingly broke the rules in her attempts to contain her charge. A lone Chamelog is inconsequential and easily replaced, and the loss of our illusionist should serve to keep Gray pacified until the challenge ends. Stay on schedule."
-"What do you want us to do, Ignition?"- requested Bastion. -"This whittling away of our numbers has gone on long enough."-
"I will consult with Lady Quarter during visiting hours," Ignition informed the group. "I have a few ideas to run past her before we can commit to them. In the meantime, after you have returned the Ghost's family tomorrow, make yourselves scarce and go to ground for the following few days. That goes for you especially, Agent #6: don't let yourself get distracted by the promise of a good time. The last thing our operations need is for you to make a show of yourself and get yourself turned in. Do try to remember that the MRPD knows who everypony looks like now."
-"I hate not being able to shop,"- Calico grumbled. -"It feels like I'm getting a headache just browsing these catalogs and doing nothing about it."-
"So either don't browse the catalogs, or else take some aspirin. Mr. Mocha's memorial service is in two days. We will resume this discussion at our next full meeting to be held in four, back at Mocha HQ. Stay frosty, one and all."
-"'Frosty'? In this context?"- Bushwhacker wondered.
"Never mind."
Gates had been hoping that they could go ahead and release their ex-captives. Ocean Guard turned out to be alright, so he wasn't the issue. It was Ebony Evening who was continuing to flip the script.
Bastion saw things a bit differently. Ebony was completely in the right during their current exchange. Gates was being his usual talkative self and doing nothing to help his case.
Ebony had backed off a step in response to what Gates had said a moment ago. "'Gorgeous'?" she parroted. "What do you mean, 'gorgeous'?"
"'Beautiful beyond all reason', stunning, striking, dazzling, any one of a dozen synonyms," Gates clarified. "When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Do you have some sort of skin disease we don't know about? Or see?"
"That can't be right," Ebony denied, shaking her head repeatedly. "That can't be right! I've had ponies trip over me in low lighting! Most days, nopony can get a clear view of my face! They're not looking at me because I'm cute. They're looking at me because they want to make sure they won't crash into me!"
"The lighting in here is low, and I can see you just fine," Gates countered. "And if you still think that, wait five years and see how many ponies are looking at you then. A little bit of makeup, and you'll be flooring the whole neighborhood."
"I... that still can't be right," Ebony protested, pacing around the room. "That still can't be right."
"It is," Gates told her bluntly, watching her wander. "You'll have to figure it out sooner or later."
...
"I find it upsetting that I'm not allowed to buck him," an unsettled Ocean complained to Bastion as the debate continued. "He's making passes at my teenage daughter."
"If there's bucking to be done, have me do it," Bastion assured him. "This is the sort of behavior that got him divorced. I'm not proud of it any more than you are." His frown deepened, if that were possible. "Though I will agree with him on one point. She's not as bad-looking as she claims she is. Self-esteem issues?"
Ocean sighed. "Eebon has this mindset where she won't permit herself to see herself for who she really is. When she was much younger, she read a children's book about the Pony of Shadows. It stuck with her the wrong way. Far as I know she's never thought of herself as ugly, but anything more than 'plain' she dismisses entirely. Everypony else thinks otherwise, and she doesn't get it."
Bastion considered his statements. "With an attitude like that, she probably thinks she's cursed," he speculated. "There's nothing wrong with having naturally dark coats, but now and then you still get superstitious types that think black ponies are no different from black cats. On some level she likely believes that everypony's wary of her, even if all of her interactions with them otherwise go smoothly. That would be my guess."
Ocean personally didn't agree, but he stayed smart and humored him politely. "If that's true, she does a fine job of hiding it." He watched as Ebony stopped pacing and resumed arguing with Gates. "If she's not under stress like she is now, she gets along fine with others. Usually."
"We've actually seen a few talent scouts approach her for possible post-graduation careers," Ocean explained to him. "She didn't believe them, and she wants to be an exterminator anyway. During spring, one of them tried to convince her by giving her a tour of their facilities. She decided to humor them. Then she saw the posed mannequins in their front office." He facehoofed. "Instant chaos."
Bastion's face soured, though not from Ocean's words. "Second warning," he called, stopping the discussion briefly. "Gates, any further comments along those lines and I'll give her leave to buck your muzzle out of alignment."
"All I did was ask her if I was too good-looking!" Gates protested.
"Gates," Bastion warned him, eyebrows furrowed.
The smaller of the two thieves grumbled, but ultimately stalked off and left Ebony alone. "For what little it's worth coming from a criminal like myself," Bastion stated to his captive after he was gone, "I feel that you and your wife have done a fine job raising her. Keep up the good work."
Ocean was quiet for a while, and Bastion ascertained that he wasn't sure how to take that given the circumstances. He didn't blame him for it.
The lifeguard finally looked up from the floor at him. "You seem... well, maybe halfway decent," he said. Bastion figured that was the best he was going to get. "I'm going to regret asking this, but... what was it that drove you two to thievery? Why betray the Royal Guard?"
...
The silence stretched on for some time as Bastion weighed the pros and cons of telling him. It wasn't a terrible backstory, at least by his standards, but it was still not one he felt comfortable telling to a mostly complete stranger. And there was always the chance that the Ghost would use the information against them somehow. "I don't want to talk about it," he finally said. "That is strictly personal."
"... ...It's easier for me this way."
A short while ago, Calico had asked Five-of-a-Kind why she behaved the way she did. Fiver didn't reply at first, which was normal, but the silence stretched on for much longer, which wasn't. Calico finally gave up and decided to go about fixing their dinner, still nervous in her presence.
It was while she was working her way through a lemon meringue pie that Fiver spoke those six words, several minutes after the filly's own meal had concluded. "Hmh? Whha---" Calico swallowed her mouthful and tried again. "What do you mean?"
"...It's easier," Fiver repeated. "...You can't tell. Few ponies can. The biggest factor is that I've been sick off and on up through now."
Cue the raised eyebrow. "Really?" Calico wondered. "You don't act sick. You seem about as healthy as everypony else."
A slow head shake. "...I'm not. There are periods where I have trouble breathing for seemingly no reason at all. I'm told it was worse when I was a yearling." She tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. "...I guess it was all..." She paused, this time to search for the right word to use. "...unconscious for me, but... at some point before I became self-aware, I started taking steps to conserve my air. I let myself shut off emotionally for the sake of saving every last breath. No more crying or giggling. No shouting or complaining. No raising my voice. ...No more unneeded reacting."
Fiver took a gulp of water, then continued. Calico didn't make a sound, wanting to listen to every soft word. "...My parents and the doctor took the needed steps to make my condition more bearable over time. ...It's mostly better now. I can read aloud in school without feeling winded. I can gallop almost as well as anypony my age. I could talk like a normal pony if I wanted to. Start letting go of my emotions again."
Their eyes locked. Calico felt perspiration start to build up on her forehead as she waited for the continuation. "...But now, I guess I'm too used to this way of living. This is my 'normal'," Fiver concluded at last. "...And I still have days where my breath catches out of the blue, so I know it's not fully gone. If my condition ever worsens again, I will be ready for it."
Done with talking, Fiver excused herself from the table and returned to her cards. Calico stayed where she was with most of a pie still held in her hooves, trying to work things over in her mind.
She had made no secret of the fact that she wanted to travel and enjoy as much of Equestria as she could, to eat and sleep where she wanted. She sought the finer things in life. In her own skewed fashion, she even wanted love.
But Fiver's story had struck a chord.
Calico wanted to find her place in the world, yes, but she didn't truly hate the village she'd once called home. She wanted to go back to it someday, to see it now that it had likely been rebuilt. The biggest problem in her mind was that Rain Shine and the rest refused to see the error of their ways, seeing as how they went with the easiest solution to their situation. As long as they remained Silent, she would not return.
She liked to think she was good at controlling her anger, cow insults aside. Why couldn't they have done the same?, she would often think during some of those long days on the road.
Along comes a pony who indulged in her own brand of Silencing, muting her own emotions out of instinct and remaining that way by choice. She gave her reasons why, and as Calico thought about it, it made more and more sense. Preserving one's health for as long as possible was always a good thing. Regardless of the differences in perspective, she couldn't begrudge her that.
A new idea wormed its way past her delusions. It should have been the natural way to go, but for her selfish mind, it required time to boil---time that Fiver had given it. This child wanted to stay alive and mostly well, so she refused to lose control. Was it the same for my village? Did they not want to lose control and repeat a potential tragedy?
She looked into the next room. Fiver was sitting with her back to her, setting up for another round of that game she was taken with. For just a moment, Calico imagined her with a horn, scales, cloven front hooves, and a fluffier mane and tail. She thought of a kirin she knew back home: their similar color schemes could've made them cousins.
The 'plop' of something hitting the table returned her to reality: a tiny chunk of pie had fallen off. Making a decision, Calico set the pie down and reached for a spare plate and knife. She was still hungry, but that could wait. "Five-of-a-Kind?" she called. "If I let you have a slice of pie, would you be able to give me your point of view on something important?..."
...
...
There was one more reason why Fiver persisted in her actions that she hadn't shared, one that Calico was better off not knowing: sometimes, having ponies witness her doing everything with a completely straight face was just too funny.
"Alright. Did you take your bath?"
"Yes!"
"Brush and floss your teeth?"
"Yes!"
Bushwhacker smiled. "Excellent. I'll be giving you back to your mother bright and early tomorrow, so get as much sleep as you can, alright? If all goes well, you'll be eating breakfast at your apartment instead of here."
Zig-Zag's good cheer as he wished him good night was infectious. It was too difficult for somepony like him to ignore.
As the little pony left the room, Bushwhacker's thoughts turned to the future. Eventually, First Quarter would be the one in charge of Equestria. She, while in her guise as Cocoa Mocha, had shared some of her history with him. Coupled with the recent revelations that were shared, he knew enough about her to recognize that her origins were humble. Definitely much less intimidating than Celestia.
Or Chrysalis, for that matter.
There were two serious roadblocks they would need to bypass if they were to make any headway towards achieving that goal, and they took the shapes of a lost robot and a feline equine. He would prefer not to fight Gray, but if he had to, he'd already recognized her fear of dogs. She could be defeated if he exploited it at a crucial moment.
Leviathan would be trickier. She was already forewarned of his shape-shifting abilities. Bushwhacker had no real leverage against her, as unlike Illudere he completely lacked any visual knowledge of those she knew from her home. He couldn't turn into her local acquaintances either, as she was likely to still recognize them as him.
She was still the one he would like to face in combat. The alternative would mean dealing with Zig-Zag, and he had reached the point where he didn't want to upset him. Let Calico or the two thieves fight Gray instead.
Bushwhacker sighed. He supported Quarter's goals, but he wasn't liking what the requirements were for achieving them.
A set of hooves shuffled against the floor, and Bushwhacker felt a light pressure around his ribs. He didn't need to look down to know who was there, but he did so anyway. "Zig-Zag?"
"Call me Zeke," the child corrected him. "Everypony else does."
Nice to know I have his permission, but... "You should be going to bed, Zeke. Like I said, we'll be getting up early."
Zig-Zag shook his head. "Needed a hug."
"You'll have to learn to ask for them sooner or later," Bushwhacker commented, wondering what it would take to teach him to do that.
"Not me. You."
His eyes widened. ...He can tell? "What makes you say that?"
Zig-Zag let go and sat back. "You needed it. You seemed upset."
This child, seriously. Bushwhacker sighed and shook his head. "I can't really talk about it. I'll get in trouble with my bosses if I do. Please understand."
"You're fighting Mom. And Fairy lady."
That warranted a blink of surprise. "You already knew?"
"Mom told us. A former cop. Pieced it together. Fighting made sense," Zig-Zag admitted.
Is he really... "Then... why are you still trying to comfort me? You don't know what I'll need to do if I want my team to win."
Zig-Zag's answer was as straightforward and simple as all of his statements were, and delivered with all the gravitas he could muster. "You needed it. It seemed right."
In that moment, the ambient love that Bushwhacker was passively absorbing spiked briefly. He sat back on his haunches, overwhelmed for those few seconds. "Are you seriously fine with this?" he questioned, chuckling weakly. "Are you seriously? Who knows how this is going to turn out? You don't know if I'm going to end up hurting your mother or your friend. This could turn out poorly for everypony."
"Mom's awesome. She'll be okay," Zig-Zag stated loud and clear. "Fairy lady's awesome. She'll be okay." The clincher was delivered with a wide smile that completely lacked doubt. "You're awesome. You'll be okay!"
...!
Bushwhacker shivered, the emanations shaking him past his standard disguise clear down to his core. So much confidence! He really believes all three of us will get through this alright!
The past three days had been some of the most enjoyable of his life, if not the most enjoyable. This child, who should've been afraid of who he really was, had fully accepted him without question. What had started as keeping Zeke pacified long enough for Gray to meet their demands had ended with the two of them building a solid rapport.
He'd been around children at both Seaddle and Ponyville. He'd gained experience in interacting with ponies of all ages. He thought he'd been prepared for this mission. He was wrong. I guess I still haven't learned everything about ponies, have I? Gray was right, Zig-Zag. You really are a lovebug, aren't you?
He was full, he was happy, and this child was continuing to build him up because he felt it was the right thing to do. No catches, no demands. There was absolutely no way Bushwhacker was going to go without giving him all of the gratitude he deserved.
So he reached forward, gently pulled Zig-Zag into a hug of his own, and appreciatively gave all of that excess love back to him.
...
Two lights lit up the safe house. The first was centered on Zig-Zag as a bevy of sparkles coalesced into a clear image on either side of him, his Cutie Mark fully manifesting at last. He didn't notice, instead beaming with awe and delight at the second light: a hovering and brilliantly shining cocoon.
I should probably discuss briefly what I gained from my recent battle beyond what was already stated.
Lock-On: Become immune to changes in perception.
The aspects of this were pieced together quickly. Following the party, I asked Drama to cast a minor illusion for the sake of experimentation. She complied and placed one on one of her props, turning it into a creature called a basilisk. At first I was looking at an actual creature, but then my vision solidified and showed the outline and movements of the prop underneath the disguise.
I don't know yet what this means for heartsongs, but I'm happy that one of my biggest weaknesses has more or less been dealt with now.
And as for what the VWS got out of the battle...
-Fahrenheit Hammer: Charge fist with power for direct physical damage, flash-freezing on contact. Four units of energy per usage. Twenty-eight units total.-
My mind's flashing back to the Metallium battle's aftermath, and I chuckle as I recall wishing for something along those lines instead of the Permafrost Squirrel I ended up getting. ...Though it has an odd way of picking up on these things: in the long run, that one direct hoof strike Illudere gave me wasn't very noteworthy.
...
Skipping ahead to the next day, Gray's family was returned to her over the course of an hour and a half. Bushwhacker dropped off Zig-Zag at her door barely a few minutes after sunrise. Fiver wandered in on her own a little while later, with Calico Driftwood nowhere to be seen. Finally, Ocean Guard and Ebony--escorted by the invisible Bastion--arrived to round out the group. With the family reunited, all of them enjoyed a fine breakfast before heading to the MRPD station to report their experiences.
I had my final meeting with Illudere at the hospital, but you already know about that.
The Police investigated the penthouse where she had been hiding out. They didn't find anything that would lead them to the group's mastermind, though they did find the apparatus Pure Energy had been using to lock Illudere in her room. Sure, circumstances undermined his feat somewhat (the enemies not being allowed to bring their full might to bear), but I still find it impressive. The other children and Ocean were a bit less helpful, as none of them knew where they were taken. In any event, investigations are still ongoing.
I was told that the investigators shared a collective shudder when they saw where Illudere had been trapped. "So that's what 'crazy' looks like," one of them was reported as saying, refusing to share any details afterward.
The lack of progress at the penthouse was negated due to them having more success with Statuette. Thanks to being bribed with high-quality pear jam sandwiches, she was very critical of what she thought about recent events. I was surprised to hear that the one who kickstarted this chain of events had been Caramel Mocha's own grandfather. Sorry, little lady.
When informed of what had been going on in her absence, Statuette didn't think that Cocoa could have orchestrated anything past the placement of herself and my first three opponents, what with him dying and all. She didn't know who could've taken over the group after he was gone, guessing that it was either his direct second-in-command or some unknown third party. In any event, the Royal Police are going through the necessary procedures in preparation for searching Mocha HQ for evidence. I wished them luck with that and told them to call me if there was trouble.
I'm sure there will be.
Finally, I met up with Gray's kids at the apartment to see how they were holding up (and to thank Echo for locating me the other night). All of them dog-piled me. Yes, even Ebony. And then she shrieked right in my ear when she realized what she was doing and took off. Energy followed after her because he thought it was fun, Zig-Zag laughed and did the same, Fiver mumbled something along the lines of "...I've missed these clowns", and the parents frantically ran damage control. I couldn't resist cracking up at the chaos.
Oh, and Zig-Zag has his Cutie Mark now: a red butterfly with heart-shaped wings. Funny.
With all of that finished, that brings us to now.
Middle of the night. It's very dark and cold down here, and I love it. There's nothing going on. It's just me, the ocean, and the sea life. It means conditions are optimal for me to sit back, relax, and do nothing but think.
I'm having an easier time now keeping my memories of this life and the fake one separated. It's helping me come to terms with everything that happened. Or with everything that didn't happen.
There's just... there was so many details in that other life. It wasn't like a dream, as if large portions of it were foggy or difficult to comprehend. All of it was picturesque. Everything in it feels like it could have happened if things had gone differently. Of course, Dr. Weil and Omega would've still needed to be dealt with, but the fact remains.
All of my interactions with my squadron, and all of my cleanup work. The discovery of those two long-dead robots: Axl and... "Proto Man", I think X called him. The establishment of new towns and cities in areas that had previously been unfit for life. The domes that covered large portions of Neo Arcadia being done away with. All of the duels that I had with Zero and the remaining Guardians over the decades until I was the only one left.
Smaller details, different events throughout that life. A little boy giving me a freshly grown flower. Some good-natured bickering with my second husband regarding a Reploid child we were planning to have built. Attending an increasingly wider variety of winter-themed events as the decades passed. Discovering that curling is actually a fascinating game.
These are important. I don't know the Luminous Cruelty's mechanics, and I don't want to know. But by her actions, Illudere may have opened up entirely new avenues of exploration.
That pony currently in Canterlot who visited Earth... 'Startide', right. What were some of those things she was saying, according to Cadance? Parsing through them now for your benefit.
"I didn't think they got this tall. Used to be much smaller. Closer to my size."
"That blue robot out east. She wasn't always giant. About my size, smaller than you."
"No. Not Levia-thinny. Another blue robot..."
"Paper says she's got blue hair. Been seeing nothin' but black."
"This world that Levia-thinny wants to go back to. There was 'nother blue robot there."
"Nothing I'd ever seen befo'. Lifelike without life, with life like you couldn't believe it."
...
At first I thought she was talking about X, as he was the only other "blue robot" that I knew of. Now that I've reached my new conclusion about my false life, I'm beginning to think she wasn't. Let's look at the height issue first.
As I've stated early on, I'm almost six feet tall (or 1.83 meters rounded up) in heels. When I first met Princess Celestia in person at Bright Lights Beach, I noticed she was right around eye level.
I revealed in my first newspaper interview that I had a brief---very brief---meeting with X before he disappeared. I wasn't focused on physical details at the time, but as I ponder this more, I'm certain he was shorter than I am by about half a foot. Taking another look at my meetings with him in my false life, I know he was.
Now, assuming that Startide was of average size in her prime, she would have been just above waist height next to me. I've seen some taller ponies in my time here--there were a bunch of them in the crowd yesterday, and Shining Armor's fairly hefty--but I've yet to meet a non-alicorn that breaches five feet. Probably wouldn't hurt to get confirmation from Canterlot on this, but this should be safe to assume. The phrase "much smaller" is the key: if she was similar to X in height, she likely would've left out the "much".
Are you with me so far? I hope so. I have no way of knowing if anyone's going to access these. You might not even exist, for all I know... but that goes into topics that I have no patience for right now.
Second is the matter of hair color, and here's where I need to delve into my other life more heavily. Strange as it may seem, in all of my meetings with X there, I had never seen him without his helmet on. Not once. I asked him about it eventually, and he said that he'd gotten used to keeping it on at all times after that archaeologist---what's his name, Dr. Cain---woke him up. Unlike me, the question of whether he had hair or not never mattered to him. He just assumed he did and didn't entertain any curiosity over it.
Naturally this means Startide could not have met X, not if she knew what the robot's hair looked like.
Third is her last statement. Think about this for a minute. 'Lifelike without life, with life.' X's era was the point where robots, more specifically those meant to look like humans, started down the road to looking indistinguishable from them. Additionally, it was where they gained true sapience.
After the remains of those two robots were found and brought to Neo Arcadia, I had a discussion with X and asked him if he knew anything about what the world was like before his re-activation. He knew next to nothing outside the boundaries of his own home and the lab he was created in, as he was placed in his capsule not long after his completion. He had vague recollections of his elderly fluffy-bearded creator finishing his work (I was told his name, I just don't remember it right off), of several robots looking on in the background with varying degrees of concern, of brief introductions being thrown around...
This was how X was able to recognize the remains of the one called "Proto Man".
Now these machines might have been human-like in personality and actions, but they didn't possess anywhere near the capacity for independent thought. They were bound to the Three Laws of Robotics, unlike X. Hence, Startide's statement. So if she went to Earth, she would've had to have gone to that era specifically.
...Though now that I'm thinking about it... what did those other robots look like? Did X ever share those details with me, or...?
... ... ... ...
Yes, I'm thinking he did. It took me a while to recall those details. They were buried a ways down.
All three robots were approximately child-sized. Proto Man had a red-and-gray color scheme, wore a helmet with face-encompassing sunglasses, and carried a shield on his back. Those details were reflected in the holographic model created for the museum later. It seemed like he was the type to keep to himself.
So that scarf on the model wasn't just a nice touch on the curator's part? I must have forgotten that.
The second robot was a girl in a red and white dress. X said she was carrying a broom and dustpan, so that could be taken to mean she was the housekeeper. Possibly even his creator's caretaker, given his age.
The third---
...
No.
It couldn't be.
It couldn't be! It just couldn't!
...
Alright, I have to level with all of you.
On my arrival here, I made my thoughts on my situation clear. I said, and I quote: "I've fallen victim to one of the oldest cliches in fiction." I've delved into that a few times. I haven't done it often given my duties, mind you, but I've read stories before.
Now, what I'm thinking might just be a red herring. I could be wrong now, but I don't think so. That other world's a collection of fiction, a doorstopper of a book series. And if there's any pattern recognition to be had in that world, in my life, I need to see this through. If I'm right about this...
That third robot had X's exact color scheme. Per his word, he had black hair. And as stated previously, his size...
...!
It is.
It is. It just is.
Just as X was the basis for Reploid-kind, that robot was the basis for him. His predecessor, his older brother in age, if not form.
Meaning that the "other blue robot" that Startide met was my uncle.
...
As Magnum put it when we met Celestia: Tartarus on a cupcake. I'm stunned. Just straight-up stunned.
It's beginning to sink in just how much of a legacy we Guardians inherited. I don't know if my uncle was built for peace, battle or both, but my intuition's telling me that we had a lot to live up to without even knowing it. How much did we succeed in? ...And I don't need to ask how much we failed in. I'm already aware of that much.
I'm hoping Cadance and Celestia succeed in getting the full story from Startide. What was my uncle like? Given X's own personality, I have to assume he was friendly by default, but assuming isn't the same as knowing. And I have to know.
What of the other creations? What were they like? What sort of purposes were they built for? What kind of personalities did they have? There's so much history that I've been denied access to because of it being lost to time! X's creator---effectively my grandfather---was responsible for much of what we're seeing now, both good and bad. There are few things I'd like more than to take a time machine back to his era and interview him directly, get his take on things! I'm missing out on so much!
"Eeeee---!"
...Oh dear, I'm making Drama Heart noises. Please stop embarrassing yourself, me. And please don't swim away from me, fish. I didn't mean to scare you by waving my arm around like that.
...
...
Okay. Okay. I'm calm. I am completely, totally calm. Enough of that subject for tonight. Something just as weighty is on my mind. Let's just stay cool and collected.
While I'm waiting for further news or attacks, I have some plans for the coming days. Exchanging correspondence with Canterlot. Sending letters of thanks to Ponyville for their help in getting my act together. Giving some combat lessons to Maverick and Magnum, seeing as how Fleetfoot's not going to be here much longer. Incorporating new training exercises from my false life into this one, since it's likely I'll need them soon. Re-testing my limits in preparation for a final conflict (because let's face it, it will happen eventually). Spending time with my friends, trying things I never would've thought to try before. And so much more...
I'm starting to feel busy again. My confidence in myself and in life has been restored, and I have these crazy ponies to thank for it. The period that began with Drama and I establishing our friendship has me the happiest I've been outside of a fight.
Look at me right now, talking about things like friends or family. Would you have imagined me doing this a month ago? Would I have gone on about any of this?
No.
I never put emphasis on those concepts. I followed my assignments dutifully both before and after my combat revamp, but I was always more concerned with getting the job done and then relaxing afterward. Before the revamp, I had one friend. After, I had none. The vast bulk of my interactions with others---discounting that silly Valentine's Day incident, plus anything to do with Zero---were professional in nature. In retrospect I feel like my playful side, while present, wasn't as well-developed as it could've been.
And at times it wasn't healthy, either.
Now that I've started interacting with civilians in ways that aren't strictly work or business oriented, I'm beginning to see what I've been missing out on all this time. Just by being around the Ghost-Guard family, I'm seeing the value of balancing work and relaxation. I'm finding myself enjoying life in ways that have little to nothing to do with my aquatic preferences. Barring the disgruntled, the city's decided that it likes the alien robot that's trapped with them. While I could've done without what it took to get there, I am grateful for their consideration. And all of this in less than a month's time.
I'm loving this city and those that looked out for me. More and more each day---like that one song I've sometimes caught Drama humming---I'm walking on sunshine, and wow does it feel good.
Between this and what I've learned about my family, it's time I made something official. I'm sure you know what it is, and you've probably been waiting for me to declare it.
...
I lift off of my resting place and swim at full speed towards one of the piers connecting the bridge to the sea floor. When I reach it I alter my trajectory sharply, propelling myself upwards. I breach the surface and kick off the water, press against the support base, and wall jump my way up to the deck. I don't stop there: I scale the horseshoe-shaped tower, engaging in a bit of parkour when necessary. A short flip at the end of it all and I'm at the top, keeping myself balanced perfectly.
What a marvelous view this is. Straight ahead of me is the brightness of Manehattan, with many of its structures towering over me still. The Crystaller skyscraper with its horse-headed fixture is especially eye-catching. Off in the distance, the weather team's night shift is beginning to gather clouds together in preparation for some rain later. High above, the moon with its dark visage casts its light down on me. Far to my right is the back of the Mare Statue. Below the bridge is the comforting ocean, shifting about on the breeze.
The Frost Javelin appears in my hand. I smile as I give it a twirl and raise it behind me, resting my other hand on my hip. My eyes linger on the city that serves as my home away from home. You can picture them lighting up in happiness if you'd like.
---And disasters have a really rotten sense of timing. I can see thick black smoke starting to billow out of a smaller building a quarter mile into the city. Brief surges of orange-yellow brightness: the beginning of a fire.
Not on my watch, you're not.
Seconds later I'm hunkered down on a Spirit of the Ocean, directing it towards the hotspot at full speed as I keep it sustained. If I'm fast enough, I should be able to reach the fire in time to help the locals extinguish it and/or assist anypony who might be trapped.
...
A way home will be discovered someday. Until that day comes, the whole of this city and its waters shall be my protectorate. If a problem arises that is too much for the Equestrians to handle, I will be there to help them. I will keep seeking to understand myself and those around me, to treasure the friendships I have made here. I will continue to improve myself until I can do so no more. And I will bring to heel those that are threatening the city for their own gain.
In memory of the family that I never met or really knew, I will do everything in my power to live up to their legacy. And in honor of one who showed more of it than I did, I vow that I will not lose my way again.
I am the sole survivor of Neo Arcadia's elites. I am the Deep Sea Squadron's Siren General. I am the daughter of X, the niece of his predecessor, and the grandchild of one of the greatest scientists to have ever lived on Earth.
My name is Fairy Leviathan, and I am Manehattan's lone Guardian.
How am I holding up, he asks. I look ugly with my mane and coat shaved off. How does he think I'm holding up? "Miserable. The headaches are lessening, but I keep trying to throw up when there's nothing left to throw up. And they're not letting me have any chocolate milk, either." I'm losing muscle mass just lying here. "Going to need to get back into shape after this..."
Ignition was unmoving as they continued to speak in low tones to prevent any hospital staff from overhearing them. "You were warned about the side effects of their treatments."
Quarter rolled her eyes and took a sip of water from a cup held between her hooves. "Yes, I know. I know. Doesn't make it any more irritating to deal with. It's bad enough that I missed my memorial service. Couldn't be there for Carrie."
"Attended your own services before?"
"Many times. It always feels very awkward. ...Though also darkly funny."
"Hm. Any objections to the orders so far?"
A slow head shake. "None. I agree that #5's usefulness wasn't going to last much longer. It was nice to have her around while it lasted, but her mental state was a risk. I'm not going to lose any sleep over her loss. There are other potentially powerful unicorns out there that can be swayed. It's just a matter of locating them the next time I have reason to travel."
"What are your thoughts on Captain Armor's interference?"
Of all the ponies to ruin a perfectly good victory... "I feel it illustrates exactly why we don't need Canterlot throwing wrenches at us. Deploy a squad of Chamelogs from here to there. You're familiar with their specs, so you know what they can do. Arrange them across Equestria in such a way that we can learn of any unexpected trips. Make sure they stay clear of any hostile fauna or specialized spells that might detect them." Excellent spies. They're unwieldy in combat, but then that's not what they're built for.
"As you wish. If we can keep Canterlot distracted by their project, so much the better."
"It would be a hoot if it succeeded. The robot goes home, we neutralize the Ghost, and that leaves the air clear between the two cities." Wishful thinking. Transition between far-off universes is going to require more magic power than even Celestia possesses, and thanks to the Crown Jewels we're the only ones who have it. This isn't anything like that rumored mirror. "How long before the prototype is finished?"
"I've been assured that it will be completed in the next day or two. Longer if we want to definitively ensure that nothing will malfunction."
R&D's been working themselves to the bone. I'll have to give them a few weeks' vacation after the coup is complete. "And your next meeting proper?"
"Two days."
"Whereabouts of our remaining elites?"
"Agent #6 has remained at Maximum Millions. She has assured me that her captive did not get any information as to their hiding place. #7 has parked himself in the hidden entry tunnel in case Leviathan discovers it. Agents #8 and #9... or rather just #8, pardon me... have confirmed that they're training out of the public eye and mastering the tools at their disposal."
Figures that Calico would want to tour her future paradise before it opens. I just hope she plays it smart and doesn't try to get in the way while the goods are being brought in. And Bushwhacker loves dark areas, so his hiding place doesn't surprise me. "Just #8? What was #9 doing when you contacted them?"
"...Humming a song of pure narcissism and self-indulgence," Ignition answered, words packed to the brim with distaste. "I cannot in good conscience repeat the lyrics in full."
Quarter didn't hide her disgust. For Luna's love, not that song. "He calls it his personal theme," she complained. "He was humming it when I first established contact with him. It was disgusting then, and it's disgusting now. ...But that's not important. What is involves our move against Celestia. It's going to have to be put on hold for now."
"I suspected as much. Our adversaries are the cause, I'm presuming?"
"Correct. Our attempts at stopping them both have been stymied repeatedly. If we launch our attack on schedule, the prototype will be destroyed and the Crown Jewels stolen without anything gained. We'll take this time to perfect the weapon and get everything ironed out the way it's supposed to. In addition, approve any remaining drone designs that pass your inspections and allow their construction." I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not becoming apprehensive.
Ignition nodded as he made mental notes of those orders. "#8 was wondering how we're going to strike back against our enemies after the losses we've incurred. I have a few ideas if you want to hear them."
Quarter considered this for a few moments before shaking her head, much to Ignition's obvious surprise. "You've been working the hardest out of all of us, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that. But once operations resume, I'll be doing the rest of the scheming until the job's finally done."
She hadn't said anything about it, but Ignition probably suspected that Quarter was disappointed in him for letting himself be manipulated by Gray. "Fair enough. I fully admit my recent planning was not up to standard."
Quarter shrugged off his admittance. When she'd said earlier that she had no objections to the orders he'd been giving, she was serious. "It's clear I've been overworking you." Security duties, R&D overseer, guiding our forces, acting as the public face of the corporation, looking after me and Carrie on top of that... that much work would exhaust anypony, myself included. I'm surprised he can keep going sometimes. "You'll be relieved from looking after the agents upon my return. No changes in pay and benefits. Focus on your other work. That sort of organization is what you're best at."
"Most ponies in your position would think little of firing their subordinates for their failures," Ignition commented appreciatively. "...Or worse, come to think of it."
"Most ponies obsessed with power wouldn't have my standards," Quarter returned. "I'm out to prove myself a better ruler than Celestia, Ignition. Killing my subjects isn't going to help my case. Abducting them already pushes it close to the breaking point." She blinked as an idea finished forming. "Though speaking of 'abduction', I think we should revisit an old project that we'd abandoned. Have you ever read through the Zoolinef file?"
"That one was concluded long ago. I didn't see much point in perusing it when you hired me."
Quarter took another sip of water and glanced at a wall clock. "We have a minute before Carrie gets here. I'll give you the cliff notes. Four decades ago via a false identity, I stationed some of my team in Diarchs and had them develop a way to alter pony biology. The eventual goal was to allow animalistic transformations that would let them keep their mind and identity. Other races, Equestria's most dangerous creatures... anything would've been fair game. I would have used them as part of my final strike against Canterlot.
"The team spent years developing several different formulas. Unfortunately, the drug that showed the most promise failed on account of it altering the mind with minimal changes, if any, to the body. I 'fired' the department by giving the Police an anonymous tip and letting them rescue the test subject." Only two of the scientists have been released since then. One's switched to a more benign career, and the other died a year later. I doubt the first one ever learned whose payroll she was on, so she's a non-factor.
"Forgive me for getting ahead of you, but what does this have to do with our enemies?"
Quarter paused, trying to swallow back the bile that had arisen in her throat and keep herself from throwing up again. She didn't continue until she laid back against her pillow, still feeling nauseated. "I hadn't paid much attention to who the child was back then. Anypony would do. After the case was closed, I dismissed her from my mind for years. I took another look when I eventually heard about an MRPD officer whose approach to life and crime was animalistic. My research told me it was the Zoolinef guinea pig."
Ignition's frown deepened. "...Gray Ghost."
"I love it when our thinking is parallel. The old reports showed that a common house cat was used as the basis for that particular drug variant. With all of this in mind, do we know of any specific weaknesses we can exploit?"
"Agent #7 noticed during the abduction that the Ghost is afraid of dogs," Ignition suggested. "She refused to attack when he took the form of a Mastiff."
"Of course. That's one possibility." Quarter's smile was a thin but devious one. "Although..."
A nurse poked her head into the room. "Excuse me, Hazelnut? Your sister's here to see you if you feel up to it."
"Always am," Quarter said in a normal tone. "We'll continue this later," she hissed again as soon as the nurse looked away. "Trust me, you'll like it. But if I can suggest something?"
Ignition leaned forward, ears pricking up as he listened to what she had to say.
... ...
Caramel stepped back for a moment as Ignition trotted out of the room, muttering about uppity children as he went. "Um, why did he storm out like that?" she asked when she got close enough to talk quietly.
Quarter would've shrugged if she could. "I suggested that he should find himself a wife," she admitted. "He told me to give it a rest." Though to be more specific, I told him to consider asking Calico out on a date.
"You... don't really believe he's going to do that, do you? He's never struck me as the romantic type."
"Not really, but you do agree that he needs to loosen up a little, right?"
Caramel nodded firmly. "I have no doubt."
To: R.D. Ponyville Many thanks for the pep talk. It was sorely needed. Be thankful that you weren't able to deliver it: the aftermath was a mess. You'll be hearing about it soon enough, if you haven't already. Please pass along my appreciation to those in Ponyville for their support. And if I may ask a favor, there are two ponies there by the names of Applejack and Fluttershy whose letters were received and valued: if you could give them my thanks for me, that would be great. Leviathan
To: Leviathan c/o The Pyre of Fears I am writing this on my aunt's behalf. She hasn't had much time these past few days to compose any letters, so she asked me to do it for her. Per your request, we spoke with Miss Startide regarding her alleged experiences in this other world she talked about. Her memories needed jogged a few times, since they happened shortly after she graduated from CSGU, but she was able to share quite a bit. Here's the summary. She described it as a world of bipeds. The experiment that brought her there placed in her in a spacious home populated by four of them. Three of them were robotic, from what we could determine: she kept using phrases such as "unrealistic life" and "living without living". They possessed a remarkable degree of intelligence and autonomy. Two were child-sized by their standards, but stood as tall---if not taller---than the majority of ponies. One of them was the "other blue robot" Startide had been going on about. The third was a comparative giant, green and bulky "with a strange face". All of them were friendly and eager to help when they found her. The fourth was a flesh-and-blood being called a "human". Startide described him as stout, with "a real cloud of a beard". The child robots were his creations, his pride and joy. She needed a few minutes to recall their names: the scientist Dr. Light, the children Rock and Roll, and the giant Auto. (I needed to double-check the spelling on that name.) The one called 'Rock' had a secondary name that the others often referred to him as: "Mega Man". I'll confess to being confused about the meaning of that first word. The second makes sense given the name of Dr. Light's race, but it still feels strange. Startide recalled that they did their best to make her feel welcome, even while they sought to help her return to Equestria. Rock's optimism was in part what kept her going. They eventually enlisted the help of at least one other scientist and a large group of other "unrealistic lives", and with a lot of research and effort they combined technology with Startide's magic to open a one-way portal back home. She has not returned to that world since. According to her, that experience taught her to be more cautious about how she utilized her magic. At some point she decided that a cushy life in a large town or city wasn't for her, and she retired to a rural community to become a grocer. Celestia plans to talk to her again soon about the methods used by Dr. Light's team. Between them and what I'm told the researchers are digging up, I believe we'll have a way home for you soon. Hang in there! Princess Cadance
To: Blue Raspberry From: Ebony Evening Hi. I'm sorry I took so long to talk to you since your graduation party, but things have been busy. Raspberry, I'm very sorry for stealing that slice of cake. Please don't stay mad at me. ... ... To: Eebon From: Bluey What are you talking about, girl? I got over that a LONG time ago! But never mind me, what about you? I heard that you'd gotten kidnapped! That's nuts! ... ... To: Blue From: Ebony Yeah, everything happened how the newspaper said it. I'm okay, I wasn't hurt or anything like that. But it was still a rotten experience that I don't want to go through again. ... ... To: Eebon From: Bluey What are you doing dropping letters in my box for? Get over here and let's hang out a while! Tell me everything!
...Dear Journal: ...I met a strange pony recently, and not just in looks. I've never seen anyone get so worked up over my silence like she did. It was funny at first, but eventually it was just annoying. ...Should've told you: I was kidnapped. Don't be so shocked. ...I created a new Solitaire game. I was bored, so I taught the strange pony how to play it. ...I confessed to her why I choose to be emotionless. She was quiet for a while after that. ...She asked me for help with something. She had panicked and stolen an icebox in Canterlot once. She believed it only cost three bits, but they claimed it was 3,800. She wanted my opinion on why they were chasing her. ...I thought about it, then asked for paper and a pencil. I tore off a piece, wrote down '3,800', then bunched up the paper so that only the '3' was visible. It was the only thing that made sense to me. ...For some reason she looked haunted when I did that. I didn't see her the rest of the evening. I swear to Celestia that I heard her crying about something in the middle of the night. ...She packaged up the pie she'd been eating, gave it to me, and dropped me back home. I didn't have any more, but my family did. ...I was interviewed by the Police. I gave them my observations. I doubt they'll look at what I said too closely, but something about that over-emotional idiot worries me. I'm keeping my eyes open for her. ...I like the Police Chief. He looks like the sort of pony that could take you out for a mint. ...Enough about me. How are you doing? Want to know how to play my new game? I call it "FreeCell". ...Fiver
Sometime later at a certain store in Canterlot, four ponies looked up from their work when a sack arrived in the mail. When they opened it, they were surprised to find that it was full of gold and small gemstones, along with a note that read: "Double what I owe and then some for the stolen fridge. --Calico Driftwood". When they counted everything up, they estimated the total value to be around 8,000 bits.
The owner recalled that experience not-so-fondly, and he talked it over with his three employees. Eventually they shrugged and let it go. They had long since recouped their losses from that theft---it had been a while---but if the culprit was willing to pay them in full plus extra, they weren't going to argue.
Gray's hooves drummed a steady beat on the sidewalk as she galloped around the block. The two newest residents of Flower Row were close behind.
This had been their routine they'd settled on. Fleetfoot's shore leave had ended and she'd returned to the Wonderbolts, but not without leaving instructions on how to continue their workouts. The morning following the family being reunited, Gray took it upon herself to offer what training she could to Leviathan's recruits. Stretches, runs and high-speed, twisted flights in the morning, a healthy lunch with a few hours rest, and a trip to the local gym for access to their weights and punching bags in the afternoon.
There likely wouldn't be enough time for any serious gains to be noticeable, and they wouldn't be moving like tremendous machines anytime soon. Still, every bit counted. The time would soon arrive when they would be thankful for what little they'd attained.
Of course, not everypony was taking it as seriously as they were. Pure Energy saw them running and joined them without hesitation. Several adolescents on scooters got it into their heads to follow them when they saw Energy having fun. Others saw them running and decided "hey, it's a nice day for a gallop" and did the same. A few more saw the line of ponies going around the block and thought somepony was in trouble, so they followed along to see who was being pursued.
Eventually Gray took a quick look back to see what all the noise was about, and did a double-take to see nearly forty ponies strung along behind them---one of whom had a golden retriever running alongside him. Squealing in panic, she bumped her speed up a gear and took off. Maverick and Magnum did the same, making token protests. Pure Energy laughed and pushed himself to keep up, while the rest of the line followed his lead.
...
Across the street, Ebony was catching up with the friend she'd apologized to. Fiver and Zig-Zag were accompanying her for the sake of having something to do. The galloping, shouting, and barking got their attention, and for a short time they watched the line circle around the block.
A snack vendor wheeled his cart down the sidewalk near them. "Special on ice cream cones today," he offered. "Anypony want some?"
All of them agreed. After all, what was entertainment without a quality snack?
...
Motion caught Gray's eyes: one of her neighbors from the corner apartment building was leaving with her little terrier in tow. The dog excitedly yapped when it saw the ruckus approaching, pulling on its leash to try and join the chase.
Gray hissed with fear and slammed on the brakes instinctively---but ended up paying for it. Levi's recruits crashed into her, and they yelped as they were bowled over. Most of those behind them weren't able to stop or evade, starting a chain of collapses, a chorus of cries, and a cacophony of crashes. Only the golden retriever, the terrier, and their respective owners avoided getting caught in the pileup.
With some struggling---and some convenient amnesia where her skill set was concerned---Gray woozily pulled herself free from the pile. Meanwhile, the retriever either didn't have any part in the traditional dog-cat rivalry or didn't recognize her unique traits, for it bounded towards her with a happy bark and a wagging tail. Gray had enough time to whimper and raise her hooves to try and shield herself before the retriever jumped on her, pushing her onto her back and deluging her face in doggy kisses and slobber.
The retriever's owner laughed. "Aww, lookit that. Jolly-boy likes you!"
"Get this loving lummox off of me!"
...
Thankfully nopony was seriously hurt, and most of those involved were bemused at worst from the experience afterward. A few were outright laughing. Gray never did; in the aftermath, a unanimous decision between her and the recruits was made to have the workouts at Bronclyn High's track instead.
Two pegasi who were part of Manehattan's weather team talked to each other.
"Hold up a second, Blue Streak. Are you saying we actually got a letter asking if we do requests?"
"Yeh. From that robot, if you can believe it. Weird, right?"
"'Requests' ... Seriously, do we look like DJs? There's a system to how we work!"
Silence.
"So... what was her request?"
"I can't read you sometimes, boss. ...Okay, okay, don't give me that look! ...Anyway, the letter said she wanted a light rain over 319 13th Street sometime in the future. She didn't say what for."
"Any weather events on the schedule?"
"Not until next week."
"...Alright, we'll grant her request. But for future reference, Blue Streak, we are not going to make a habit of this. You got it? Good. Now, grab somepony who isn't working right now and hop to it."
... ...
That afternoon Leviathan dozed on the Pyre's roof, her helmet next to her and her hands behind her head. Beneath her was the largest beach towel the local stores had available. Over her was a rain cloud that spanned the length and width of the rooftop, dropping precipitation at a light but steady rate. On her was a content smile.
Near the cloud, the weather ponies responsible debated what to call this. They couldn't safely call it "sunbathing", and "rainbathing" just sounded silly, so...
Bastion frowned inside his helmet. With Quarter's elites reduced in number from nine to four, the room's mood wasn't what it had been before.
He himself had gotten used to his new armament, and had reported his satisfaction with it. He'd also taken the time to make sure his old skills from his years with the Royal Guard were rust-free. Gates was becoming increasingly antsy with his desire to introduce his upgraded knives to Leviathan's neck, and stated as much.
Bushwhacker seemed more upbeat, and considering that he had been the friendliest of the group already, that was saying something. When Ignition questioned him on it---after the changeling refuted any claims from Gates that he had seduced somepony---he'd claimed that Gray's challenge was "enlightening". He then requested first crack at Leviathan when it came time to resume their mission, and Ignition promised him that he'd see what he could do. Bastion wondered exactly what he'd experienced over the week.
Calico was a sharp contrast to them all, being the source of the downer atmosphere. She answered when she was spoken to, but otherwise she paid little attention to what Ignition was saying. She was leaning forward against the table, her chin and forelegs resting on it. There was little life in her eyes. The clincher to it all was that she was the only one of the four who had attended without any armor and weapons equipped.
And if Bastion had asked Ignition, he would've learned that Calico had left most of her breakfast untouched. Given the kirin's voracious appetite, that was a red flag.
"The doctors have reported that the cancer has almost been completely dealt with," Ignition reported as the meeting continued. "There will be one more treatment tomorrow, followed by several days of analysis and testing to confirm that it's gone before Lady Quarter will be able to return to HQ. Even then, she will need to rest for a day or two before resuming active duty."
The group was silent as they processed this. Trifecta, Metallium or Statuette might have had something to say about this situation, Bastion thought. Glintlock might have remarked that he didn't understand how the treatments worked on account of his isolation from civilization, and we would receive exposition on the topic. Illudere would say something off the wall just to spice it up.
"I have received word from our lesser agents in the bureaucracy," Ignition continued. "The MRPD has been undergoing standard procedures in preparation for searching Mocha HQ for evidence of our crimes. Our agents are doing everything they can to hinder them, but Quarter agrees that it's only a matter of time before the Police turn up here with a warrant in hoof. Efforts are already underway to transfer out anything and everything that would implicate us."
"How'd they find out where we were based?" Gates wondered, though Bastion suspected he already knew.
Ignition confirmed it for them. "Agent #4 cracked under pressure. She informed them that the late Mr. Mocha gave the okay to carry out the jailbreak. Our only saving grace is that she did not tell them of his true identity, on account of her not being present when Lady Quarter outed herself."
"Mmf," Calico mumbled.
"I'm assuming that if they get in, we're not going to let them into the sub-basement, right?" Bushwhacker pointed out, silently reminding them that the Crown Jewels and Project Ashes were down there for safekeeping. And without Illudere to protect them, they couldn't be hidden in plain sight anymore.
Ignition nodded. "Correct. And regardless of what the authorities decide to do, the Jewels will be relocated to the facilities off of the entry tunnel in preparation for installation. Project Ashes already has measures against detection and possible attack, so no action will be taken where that is concerned."
"Speaking of the tunnel, you're going to want forces there to guard it," Bushwhacker advised. "Sooner or later Leviathan's going to find it, and she's the only one of our enemies who can access it without help."
"Noted. We will keep a detachment down there," Ignition agreed, jotting down the recommendation. "Anything else?"
The statement was entirely out of the blue, jarring everypony into surprised silence. "...And you're saying this now, why?" Bastion asked, breaking it after some time. "When we're all struggling against somepony that can fight back?"
"I finally figured it out," Calico explained, one hoof tracing a circle on the desk. "Why everypony was making a big deal over that fridge. They were right all along. I was just too dense to realize that the price tag was malformed. And that throws my entire rationale for joining this group into question." She sighed. "Don't try to keep me here with your dashing good looks, Ignition. I'll be leaving soon. Heading for home. Living the high life... it doesn't appeal to me like it used to."
Reading between the lines, Bastion came to the conclusion that Gray's challenge had adversely effected her. It was done to a lesser degree than the rest of them had dealt with, but it was enough. The rest of us had been impacted in some way, so it would be strange if she had escaped unscathed.
Ignition parsed this before nodding in acceptance. He was disappointed that she'd decided to quit this late, but Quarter's rules were set in stone. "What we said at our first conference still stands. You're allowed to leave the group at any time as long as you don't oppose us in the future. Be sure to turn your equipment over to us before you go."
"I didn't say I was ready to turn over my suit just yet," Calico declared heatedly, just barely keeping her transformation in check as she sat upright. "I'm taking my shot at Leviathan before anything else. You can be assured of that. After that, though, I'm gone whether I win or lose."
"Lose the fight, lose your freedom," said Gates. "You know about those little squarish rooms called 'prison cells'? Yeah. They actually make those things. Can you believe it?"
"Choke on your own sarcasm, divorcee," Calico snarled, having learned that little detail about his past from the published interview with Ocean Guard in the Minutes. "Between your old crimes and our new ones, you'll be paying rent in Tartarus when Leviathan crushes you. You just watch."
Gates leaned forward and pointed a hoof at her, the kirin's statements successfully getting under his skin. "Listen here, wig model---"
"That's enough," Ignition cut him off sharply. "Quarter and I were under the impression that all of you would be able to cooperate in pursuing our goals. Were we wrong?"
"Oh, I'm willing to cooperate. Just not with him," Calico bit out, not giving a chance for additional silence to settle in. "My race has always been big on justice, Ignition. Can you honestly tell me that there's justice in leaving your spouse entirely because somepony with a prettier muzzle and tail wanders by? Tell me to my face that I'm wrong."
"You know, it's probably for the best that you want to leave," Gates retorted. "That way you can seek out all of the non-existent stallions that want to throw themselves at your hooves. When you get yourself a house that isn't made out of glass, then you can start throwing stones."
The room temperature rose rapidly. Bushwhacker raised a hoof, quick to see that he probably shouldn't be here. "Um, Ignition? Permission to leave the room while this argument runs its course?"
Bastion did the same. "I share his sentiments."
Ignition sighed in disappointment at the direction the meeting was going, but didn't protest. "Granted. I will notify you both when we are ready to continue."
Being the nearest to the exit, Bastion was the first to leave. Bushwhacker shifted into a blue jay and followed him out. The door quickly closed behind them, the soundproofing cutting off the noise of an argument exploding into high gear.
Bushwhacker fluttered down near the floor and shifted back to his default form. "Are you starting to get the feeling that this alliance is falling apart?" he asked Bastion quietly as he walked, concerned.
"Always be thankful that you're a solo operative," Bastion advised him. "I've been putting up with him since the day we enlisted in the Guard. I intend to see this assignment through no matter where it takes us, but you're right in that we need to watch our steps from now on."
"I'm not going to lie and say that I haven't been tempted into leaving myself," Bushwhacker confessed. "But Chrysalis is still out there somewhere. Her shadow's still hanging over me and my future. If Celestia won't be the one to defeat her, then it's going to have to be Quarter." In a rarity for him, his eyes and tone turned steely. "I want to at least see the Queen removed before I go, and that means staying on board for the long haul."
No more words were spoken as they returned to their quarters. Leviathan and Gray were dangerous, but they were hardly the only threats to Quarter's potential reign. And as friendly as Bushwhacker was, Bastion knew that his usage of "removed" was a euphemism for something deadlier.
...
Twenty minutes later, Ignition summoned them back to the conference room. Thanks to Gates' helmet there were no outward signs of his mood, but Calico's was easy to discern on account of the half-melted chair she was awkwardly sitting in (and her blushing, but nopony was paying attention to her face). For his part, Ignition was about as close to truly angry as they'd ever seen him get.
Very little of note was accomplished in the meeting after that.
Gray's added some color to her all-but-empty wardrobe. She's turned up for one of Sally's evening shows with an orange-yellow scarf around her neck.
I recognize it immediately: it's the same scarf I had found during my unwanted stay at the Golden Bell. I shouldn't have noted it that quickly, but...
...
Alexandrite, that foolish pony who had hired the Midnight Castles all those nights ago, was in town this morning. Since she still owns the Golden Bell, the MRPD had sent her a letter informing her of the damage done to her property and the circumstances thereof. She turned up to judge the damage for herself and hire somepony to repair the building.
I was patrolling the area when Coffee notified me of Alexandrite's presence, and despite the latter's apprehension she agreed to let me stick around. I gave her a watered down rundown of my recent experiences there, and she bemoaned the fact that a "curse" had befallen the property. Maybe she's feeling a little bit better now that she's not the only one scarred by things that happened. I don't know.
Anyway, she gave me a bit of history about these back rooms. When her husband Moissanite was still alive, this was where they lived and entertained the odd guest. When he was killed, the memories became too much for her, so she had the hall leading to the rest of the building blocked off before finding a new home elsewhere in the city. She left behind that newspaper clipping I'd read for reasons she didn't bother explaining.
In her haste to leave, she hadn't taken everything with her. The Police investigators had found them in their search, but had concluded that they weren't relevant to the case. As such, the scarf I'd found was still where I'd left it.
Alexandrite gave it a longing look for a time before telling me that it had been Moissanite's favorite clothing item. I asked her what she was going to do with it, and she told me that since it hurt just to hold it, she might as well give it to somepony else. When I left her a short time later, she was taking the scarf to a thrift store that she had been familiar with.
Coincidentally, the same thrift store that Gray went to later for unrelated reasons.
...
I nod in approval at her new attire. Now that I'm thinking more about it, I like it: it reminds me of the scarf that adorned Proto Man's holographic model in that false life.
You know what? Just for fun... "Looking nice. I'll bet with a good pair of sunglasses, you'll look perfect."
"Didn't we already establish that neither of us are fashion experts?" Gray asks skeptically.
Turkey Bowl, who's on hand for the show tonight too, agrees with me. "Nothing to lose by trying, is there? And if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. It's not a big deal."
Gray stays unsure, but she's not in an argumentative mood this time. "I guess. Any special shades, or am I just supposed to pick at random?"
I tap my chin, smiling as Proto Man's mental image solidifies. "How about..."
...
The next day...
"...Okay, why's the hobo making a legitimate fashion statement?" somepony wonders in the background.
Rude, but not entirely inaccurate. Gray's wearing the sunglasses I'd suggested. She's also frowning, which tells me that she's not happy. It's hard to tell with her sometimes. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know how it happened," Gray admits, sounding completely lost and confused, "but I think I managed to become a model." She pivots to give us a better look at her. "Is this scarf-and-shades combination really that much of a hit? I'm not seeing it."
Did I hear that right? "What drove you to that conclusion?"
"Okay, so I'd finished our morning workout, right? While Mav and Mag are eating lunch, I'm napping on the bench. Then this photographer blitzes me from out of nowhere, snaps a bunch of pictures at every angle, and all but orders me to attend a photo shoot across town tomorrow morning before she takes off."
I did hear that right. "Kya---"
Gray's immediately in my face, a hoof pressed against my mouth. "If you laugh, I'm dragging you to the shoot with me."
"Carrie, you have no idea how happy I am you're here. I look like a giant hairless rat. Ponies are going to laugh at me."
"Are the headaches gone, Hazel?"
"Well, yeah, but still---!"
"Then it was all worth it. Let's get things finished up here and get you home, alright?"
Hazelnut, locked in place as she was, watched as her sister escorted the monster inhabiting her body out of the hospital and back home. There were indeed a few onlookers who tried to laugh, but a sharp look from Caramel silenced them. The more dignified of the sisters hailed a taxi for a ride back to Mocha HQ.
There had been conversations between Quarter and Ignition that she had listened in on. Feelings of drowsiness, dizziness, and a half dozen other sensations manifested as the cancer treatments were performed, but Hazelnut herself barely felt any of them.
She recalled being scandalized when she heard of the enemy agents' actions, fleetingly wishing that she could help the targeted family and Leviathan in some way. Mocha money was going towards this? It was a blatant disgrace to their name, a permanent smear that no amount of soap and water would erase.
There were times where she started to feel weaker and sink into the morass of memories that Quarter possessed. All Hazelnut needed to do was look through the corner of her eye, and that image of the violent metallic monster rejuvenated her. She wished with all of her heart that there was a better way to keep herself from giving up than by traumatizing herself, but by this point she had convinced herself that there was nothing else she could do.
She swore that if she ever escaped this situation somehow, she would book an appointment with a therapist on the double. This mindset she was working with wasn't healthy.
Hazelnut watched as they returned home. Caramel offered to have their servant provide a good meal, but Quarter felt more like resting first. There was some conversation between them before Caramel closed the curtains and left her alone. Quarter gave in to the desire to sleep, and light snores rumbled in the background.
The scion hated these long stretches of pure nothing. At least when Quarter was awake, she could watch what was taking place on the outside. But when the windows went dark, there was nothing but the ongoing struggle and the constant fog.
After a while, the windows distorted and brightened. What is happening? she wondered, concerned. She couldn't be waking up that quickly.
She wasn't. It was a new perspective that Hazel never saw coming.
Two ponies surveyed a wide expanse of recently-acquired farmland. After finishing their work, one turned to the other. "All things considered, White Rook, I think you got a good deal."
Rook responded with satisfaction. "I agree. This will keep my family fed for quite some time."
"And the rest of us, too. I've had the vegetables your family grows before. They're some of the best I've ever had."
"Thank you. We try," Rook said, barely any trace of humility in his tone.
The second pony turned to him, expressing confusion. "There's one thing I don't understand, though. Of all the ponies you could've married, why one of them? Don't you think that's a little..."
"Strange?"
"Well, yes."
Rook snorted. "Don't tell me you still believe that rhetoric about tribe superiority, Grass Seed. We've always loved each other, she's just as much into farming as I am, and she's interested in the same goals as I am. I don't care if she's a unicorn. We're going to make this countryside better one full stomach at a time, and no amount of ridicule and hate's going to stop us."
The other pony shook his head disapprovingly, but didn't press the issue. "I've seen that look in your eyes often enough that I'm not going to argue with you on this. You're set in your ways."
Rook took another look at his new property, his thoughts elsewhere. "As I should be. Let everypony bicker about what's right and wrong if they want. I'm no politician or warrior. I'm not going to waste my time on those matters when there's better things I could be doing. I'm a farmer and nothing more."
As the image faded, Hazelnut found herself shaken. What was that? Was I seeing Quarter's dreams? Seriously, what even was that?
Wait... Was it really a dream? Or was it some kind of memory? ... Maybe both?
Hazelnut couldn't help but think that Rook's final words were familiar. She had to push past the solidified memory of virulent, violent metal to find the cause of it, but after some consideration she realized that the words were among the first that rushed into her head days ago.
She focused as hard as she could, straining to recall the details of a life that wasn't her own. It wasn't easy work, as there was a lot to sort through, but eventually she was able to make them cooperate. One by one they collected together to form a coherent piece of the puzzle. White Rook. Earth pony stallion. Known for being shrewd and clever. Married a unicorn in defiance of acceptable standards. Owned a successful farm that produced multiple crops.
So this pony... they used to be just a basic farmer? How long ago was this?
Wait... what was that comment about tribe superiority?
-"Of all the ponies you could've married, why one of them?"-
Why would him marrying a unicorn be such a big deal? Carrie and I have traced our ancestry back centuries, and we've got plenty of representatives from all three tribes scattered throughout our lineage, so...
History lessons and bedtime stories tickled her memory. She still had fond recollections of past Hearth's Warming holidays. Unless... unless this interaction took place before the tribes united. So... more than 1,100 years ago, if the old tales and fables have any accuracy to them. Makes sense, okay.
So, how did this pony become a body snatcher? He sounded normal to me, if proud.
As if bidden by her inquiry (though Hazelnut knew it was likely just a coincidence), new imagery coalesced before her...
A whistle from a prospective customer. "These are the best potatoes I've ever seen in my life."
Rook preened at the praise. "I'm glad you think so. Only the best care goes into growing these. I'd be a fool if I gave them anything else."
The customer searched the pouch he was wearing. A disgruntled sigh left him. "Well, if that's not worthy of rain. I don't have as much with me as I thought I did. Care to barter? Still need to feed the folks today."
Rook shrugged. "If you have something of worth, I suppose I could trade some potatoes for them."
A locket was hoofed over to him. It was a pretty little thing, being made of pure silver and having a surprisingly detailed image of a full moon embossed on the front. On the back of it were twin circles of characters in a language that meant nothing to him. Rook met the customer's eyes in surprise. "I understand that your family needs food, but you could buy them from me for weeks with this thing! Are you sure you want to give this up?"
"I found it years ago and hung onto it since," the customer explained, fed up with something. "I've been trying to decipher these words on the back, and I've found no success. None. I've tried to find somepony who can figure it out, and I'm at the end of my rope. This thing isn't worth the trouble of keeping it."
Rook pondered this. Thanks in part to his wife's work, he had a few connections with the unicorns. Maybe he could figure it out someday. And if not, he could always do some bartering himself. "I'll take it. You won't need to worry about food for a while. Take what you need, and I'll let you know when you have to start paying again."
"...You're very generous," the customer stated after recovering his wits. "I appreciate it."
Hazelnut's mouth would've fallen open if she hadn't felt so numb. Alright. I knew that family heirloom was old, but I didn't know it was that old.
Is that why I've got one of my ancestors infesting me? How is that amulet supposed to work? Do you just have to hold onto it?
Or did that text on the back have anything to... do with... it...?
She paused as her thoughts and willpower started becoming muddier again. Exerting herself, she centered her vision on the twisted and violent wreckage once more. She inwardly squealed as the fear that was... whatever that creature's name was spiked her mind back into overdrive, forcing her back to square one.
Hazelnut struggled to focus on what she had been doing before. No matter how many times she had to do that just to stay alive, it was always hard to stave off that level of primal terror.
For one quick moment she wondered if the metal creature was the 'Omega' that Leviathan had mentioned in the newspaper. She dismissed the idea immediately. What were the chances that the monstrosity that had embedded itself in here and the one that sent Leviathan on a crash course towards Equestria were the same creature?
T-trying to figure out how that locket was able to mess with White Rook is more important. I'm n-not dwelling on this trauma unless I need it to stay alive. Period!
Now, if this would work for me again, then awesome.
She pulled at her ancestor's memories again, making anything concerning Rook's research into the locket the core of her investigation. As before, she had to struggle and strain her mind for the sake of cooperation, but she was able to put things together in a way that made sense.
Took many seasons to accomplish goal. Most unicorns that talked to Rook were uncooperative, if they knew anything at all. Wife finally had to step in and ask in his stead; even that was touch-and-go for a while. Language on locket revealed to be an old tongue that fell out of use well before the present day. Scroll that wife obtained meant to convert characters from the old alphabet to the new...
"Let's see..." Rook muttered as he looked back and forth between the scroll and the locket. "It's an odd key. It makes little sense from today's point of view. It's technically more of a code than a proper alphabet. It's no wonder that it's not being used anymore... you practically have to be a wizard just to understand how often it shifts. Some characters forward, then right back again."
With his new knowledge, he gave the circular sentence on the locket another look, going over things in his mind. "Hmm... the closest translation I can get from this is 'To the next descendant, inherit everything that I am'. Trying to actually speak the language is an exercise in tedium." He scowled. "I would love to have words with the artisan that crafted this, the lunatic... Though maybe I should see if there's more like this around. If I could speak the language, it would throw any well-learned unicorns off-balance."
He wasn't going to lie and say that he wasn't feeling spiteful towards those that hindered him in his search. He didn't agree with earth pony beliefs towards them, but having to put up with the unicorns' arrogance was aggravating.
"Now how to pronounce this tangled mess of a sentence..." He cleared his throat, then spoke slowly and carefully: "Xk xdi jitx zioharzejx, erdinmp irincplerc xdep m wq. ...Did that sound ri---"
At that moment, the locket felt inexplicably warm in his hoof. That same warmth encompassed him inside and out, and he felt comfortable despite the evening chill. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation, smiling.
If he'd been paying attention, he would've noticed the locket's characters glowing a soft white.
The warmth left him, and for a second he felt like a heavy weight had landed on him. The weight increased in intensity to the point where it was almost more than he could bear, and his legs quivered---
The weight vanished completely, and the warmth gave way to the autumn cold. The entire experience from the locket warming up until now lasted no more than seven seconds.
Rook stayed silent as he considered what had just happened. "...Interesting," he uttered calmly. He didn't know why he was trying to hide his surprise: his wife and sons were entertaining some neighboring farmers elsewhere on the property, so nopony was around to hear him. Force of habit, he supposed. "What... what was that locket? How is it doing that?"
The locket wasn't providing any answers. He repeated the words that had triggered the warmth, but nothing happened. He finally shook his head and set the locket aside. "Bah. Mysteries for another day. I should really be joining everypony outside right now. Probably a more relaxing use of my time," he told himself as he extinguished a lantern and left the room.
The Mocha twins were growing up in an age where relations between the three tribes were... well, not truly perfect, but at a point where interactions were congenial much more often than not. Hazelnut had to stop herself from wondering why Rook didn't persist in asking for help in that bleaker era.
It would've been smarter for him to send the locket with a letter attached to the unicorns. Let somepony with a scholarly mind piece things together instead of somepony with no experience with the intricacies of magic.
...Though thinking about it, I can understand why he didn't. His negative experiences with them might've turned him off just enough from that. Taking chances with magic is still a stupid idea, though. Were it me, I would've tried to have the locket melted down.
Hindsight, and all that rot.
"Mmmph..."
Quarter emitted an annoyed grunt as she awakened, and Hazelnut immediately clammed up. "I haven't dreamed of my first life in decades," the monster mumbled, the thoughts echoing in the mindscape. "Obviously I need more chocolate milk. ...And has it really been three hours since I laid down? Time passes too quickly. Stupid lingering side effects."
Hazelnut kept her thoughts to herself. She didn't know if they could be picked up on the same way she could pick up on Quarter's, but she didn't want to risk it. Whether out loud (which she was incapable of at present) or inwardly, laughter was a poor idea in either case.
...
As time went on and Quarter began eating the meal she requested, Hazelnut noticed something peculiar.
She felt just a little bit stronger. She still had to fight to keep her mind from vanishing into the ether, but the struggle didn't seem quite so difficult...? Maybe a tad less than it had been...?
She had more questions than answers, but where before she couldn't do much of anything, she at least now had a goal to strive towards.
It would be a very long time, if at all, before Hazelnut would be able to stand on all four hooves without triggering her self-induced trauma. But she and Caramel had been taught by the same monster that currently laid claim to her body. She was not stupid. Somewhere in this swamp of a lifetime was the key to reclaiming what belonged to her, and she was going to find it.
It was just a matter of coming to terms with everything. ...Making sense of all of these memories is going to be an absolute pain in the tail, she groaned to herself as she saw the enormity of her task.
Hazelnut didn't know if her thoughts couldn't be heard or if Quarter's mealtime was drowning it out, but the latter showed no signs of recognition.
"So has all the testing been completed?" Quarter asked Ignition later, once she was certain they were alone.
A curt nod. "Yes, young lady. I witnessed the latest round of it myself. Everything is perfect."
Wonderful. "Then we're getting to work. I'm going to get myself back to full strength. Meanwhile, direct your staff to discreetly transfer all pertinent materials to our office at Fat Stallion Island, including the Crown Jewels. Now that we know for sure that it will work just fine, we don't need to delay anymore. All hooves on deck: construction of the Prism Tower shall commence immediately."
"And what of Leviathan and the Ghost?"
An eager smile. "What do you think? Summon our remaining agents, Ignition: we've got plans to discuss. Operations against those big stupid pufferfish will resume in three days." The smile left Quarter as she remembered something. "And Ignition?"
"Yes?"
"Find me the best hair growth formula on the market," Quarter all but begged. "I refuse to look like a hairless rat longer than I have to."
One corner of Ignition's mouth twitched. "Consider it done."
A storm that the local weather team has warned about for the past several days has arrived. Dark clouds have covered Manehattan from one end to the other, blocking out the sun. Heavy rains have driven everypony off the streets. Lightning and thunder make their rounds like sentries. Only the desperate or the truly idiotic would be outside in weather like this.
Naturally, that never bothered me. I love rain, and lightning means nothing to me.
I took the time to craft a bench made of ice outside the Pyre. I'm sitting on it now, one hand resting on its back and keeping it sustained while I enjoy the weather for what it is.
For the time being, I'm alone. First: with the storm deterring any customers, Drama's closed the theater for the day and secluded herself upstairs to catch up with her reading. She told me that if I get any calls, I should just attend to them and not worry about her.
Second: after I learned of the upcoming storm, I had a brief conference with the Police and the local weather team. Maverick and Magnum will be working with the latter for the rest of the morning, helping to make sure that the storm doesn't go out of control. The team's manager was reluctant when the suggestion was posed to him, but he gave in on the grounds that they followed all of his directions to the letter. The duo swore to me that they wouldn't let anypony down.
This post-recovery break was good for me, but I'm anxious to get back to work finding the remaining agents. They're hiding somewhere, and my instincts are telling me that they didn't decide to cut their losses and leave the city just because I'm back to full strength. For my peace of mind and the city's, they'll need to be stopped soon.
Within the past few days, the MRPD was finally able to get past all of the red tape and conduct a search of Chocolate Mocha HQ, search warrant in hoof. The tower was searched from top to bottom, but by the time the Police left they'd found nothing that could be linked between our enemies and the late Cocoa Mocha.
Personally I find the lack of evidence suspicious. It was more than a week between Statuette's confession and the Police search. Assuming that she wasn't lying, that would be more than enough time for any evidence to be hidden or otherwise relocated. I haven't been given the go-ahead to investigate the tower myself, so I haven't been able to prove my suspicions.
My radio crackles. The transmission is garbled on account of the storm, but I can still hear Officer Coffee trying to talk to me. -"---athan? General? -----nemy is on the mo------peat, enemy is on the-----. Collect Gray G--------to the station imm-----."-
Knew it. "I will be there shortly. I repeat: as soon as I can," I inform her.
Leaving the bench to dissolve on its own, I jump off of it and take my leave.
I actually haven't been by Gray's apartment more than once, back on that first day. I've stopped by the building to retrieve Mav and Mag when they seemed to be running late, but that's it. Ebony might be making some good steps in overcoming her fears, but confronting her in her own home didn't feel like a wise move.
The side door on the fire escape is closed due to the weather, so I go in through the front. The superintendent's working in the lobby, and he reminds me where Gray's home is located. Shuffling my way up multiple sets of stairs isn't my idea of a fun time, but I'm still able to reach my destination before long. And I still have to be mindful of the lower ceiling.
The first thing that gets my attention is the yelling. Ebony sounds like she's barking orders to her siblings, with Energy and Zig-Zag yelling back at her. After a little bit Ebony's voice changes in tone, sounding as if she's upset at her mother. What's going on? Is something wrong?
No way to get an answer to that question but to ask. I raise my hand and knock on the door. "Hello? It's Levi. Is everything okay in there?"
The apartment immediately quiets. "Crudbunny," I can hear Ebony mutter. "F-Fiver, get the door."
The door handle jiggles after a moment. "...It's unlocked," Fiver announces in her usual manner. "...Enter if you're fearless."
That's not a good sign. I open the door and step into the family's domain for the first time.
...Okay, did a bomb hit this place? There's plants all over the room.
And when I say all over, I mean 'all over'. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, the furniture, the doors, part-way into the kitchen... there's not a single surface left uncovered. All of the ponies have some of it stuck to them, and Echo is happily chewing on one.
As for Gray, she's completely unfocused and dazed. She's looking at me like everypony else, but she doesn't acknowledge me. I don't think she even recognizes me. "I've got a fang," she states in all honesty. "It's pointy. It hurts." She tries to grab Ebony awkwardly, but misses and hugs the wall instead---smushing her face into one of the leaves. "Self-appointed. Sixteen tons. What do I get?... I'm bad at reading lips, what are you saying?"
...wait a moment. I think I recognize this plant. Juniper Leaf was carrying one of those at that morale-boosting event. "Is this catnip?" I ask, taking a leaf off the wall for a closer look.
Zig-Zag gestures at an opened package in the middle of the floor. "Delivery. Little while ago. Exploded out."
"...You may want to defend yourself," Fiver warns---
---just a moment too late as Gray pries herself off the wall and leaps at me. I brace myself against the door frame to keep from falling over, and while the impact makes me grunt I'm able to stay on my feet. "Gray!" I complain as I try to pull her off. "What in Equestria is wrong with you?"
"C-cat...catnip..." she growls, holding on tight as she tries to nuzzle my face. She almost sounds like she's struggling to make sense, but if she is it's a losing battle. "Scent irresistible. You look like a fish!"
"We k-knew that this stuff effects her weirdly, but never like this," Ebony explains worriedly. As she continues talking, Gray lets go of me and staggers over to the couch to rub her face against it. "We received a package from the nearest Mocha Tavern like we do every year, so I thought we were just g-getting chocolate powder!"
I frown upon hearing this. "Humor me for a moment, kids. What's the return address on that package?"
Energy retrieves the opened package---sidestepping to avoid Gray lunging at him---and reads off what it says on the label. "That can't be right," Ebony protests in response. "We get our shipments from the Tavern just two blocks away. That address is clear across the city at---"
"---Mocha HQ," I finish with a sharp intake of breath, familiar with the location. So they're aware of Gray's background. They've gone back to trying to keep her out of the game for as long as possible. "Has she ever been like this around catnip before?"
Gray plops onto the floor and twists around, a dopey little smile on her muzzle. "Not like this," Zig-Zag states, worried. "Never like this."
"Mom's always liked catnip, but the effects never last this long," Pure Energy elaborates. "It's usually just about ten minutes." He nods. "Ten minutes. Usually. After that she's able to pry herself away from it."
"And how long has it been?"
"(...) Half an hour," the children chorus, with Fiver being half a beat behind.
So either the effects were strengthened somehow, or they're trying to overwhelm her through sheer quantity. I shake my head and re-open a signal to the MRPD. "Officer Coffee? I've got a very stupid situation here."
Coffee traded baffled looks with the pony next to her. "...Come again, General? I'm not reading you clearly. You're saying that the enemy's overwhelmed Gray Ghost with catnip?"
-"That's exactly what I'm saying,"- Leviathan confirmed after a short silence. -"It's everywhere in here, and that's not hyperbole. Her children are telling me that they received a package half an hour ago, and the contents exploded when they opened it. They've been trying to keep Gray under control ever since. And speaking of: Gray, I'm made of metal, now stop trying to bite me! ...Over."-
"I don't think she's talking about me," the officer pondered. "Maybe she doesn't want to go out in rain this bad?"
-"Wouldn't surprise me,"- Leviathan grumbled. -"Gray, get out from under the couch!"-
-"I'mma lady,"- Gray answered.
-"Fine. If you're not coming out of there--- ...hey, where'd she go? ...GAH!"-
-"Now we're sister ladiiieeesss!"-
-"And why was there a makeup kit under the coach?!"-
-"...Mom was wondering where that went. Thanks for finding it,"- Fiver uttered, her voice nearly lost over the transmission.
-"M-maybe you should've tried lifting the couch instead,"- Ebony nervously suggested.
There was a short pause as the suggestion was followed. -"Ugh! When was the last time you cleaned under here?!"- Leviathan protested indignantly.
-"Two days ago,"- Zig-Zag answered.
-"Well, it's positively filthy now, and---"- The sound of an impact. -"---and now Gray's getting it all over me! For the love of---!"-
-"...It'll come out in the rain, you big baby,"- Fiver droned.
-"And now I'm wondering what baby Reploids look like,"- Energy pondered. -"Thanks, sis."-
-"...You're welcome. I think."-
Shaking his head, Rainstorm got up and walked away as the confrontation continued. "Where are you going?" Coffee wanted to know.
"To see if there's any doughnuts left. This might take a while," came the reply. "Want any?"
"Only if there's blueberry filling."
Leviathan's protest made Coffee's ears turn away on reflex. -"This isn't helping, Coffee-and-Cream!"-
Imagine the fight to end all fights. Twenty soldiers, all of them one-pony-armies in their own right, battling an otherworldly entity that can reshape the continent just by breathing.
I will not tell you exactly how I managed to pry Gray out of that catnip-infested room and drag her over to the police station. All I can tell you is that the two scenarios match up cleanly. The rest I will leave up to your imagination.
"Note to self: go on a diet," Coffee mutters as I finally walk in. She sees Gray being held in my arms like the cat-pony she is. Or like a baby. "You know, you could've just waited for us to dispatch a carriage. They do have attachable rain shields for the drivers."
"I didn't want to wait," I tell her. "I was operating under the impression that this was fairly urgent."
Gray shifts a bit in my arms. She's still dazed, and her legs and wings are twitching sporadically. Meanwhile, Coffee answers me: "Somewhat urgent, but not too urgent. It was important, but not so much that we couldn't afford to wait a few extra minutes." She peeks around behind me, frowning. "And what are her kids doing here?"
Ebony, Fiver, and Zig-Zag all wave at her, the former two semi-awkwardly. All of them are soaking wet, their umbrellas not being enough to protect them from the storm. "Mom's the biggest nuisance when she's in full cat-mode," Ebony complains. She shivers a little at being in close proximity to me, but she's able to keep it out of her speech. Good; she doesn't have much farther to go. "And after a catnip high as big as this? You bet we're going to be here to ease her out of it."
"...Energy stayed behind to scour the apartment of catnip," Fiver continues. She doesn't comment on us telling him to keep the door and windows locked. "...But we can't air out the rooms until the storm ends."
Zig-Zag waves again, as cheerful as ever. "Hi, Coffee lady!"
Coffee doesn't seem sure whether to react to Zeke's greeting or to read me the riot act for allowing the children to follow me. Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she tries put together a reply. What she finally comes up with is: "...Kids, take your mother and get yourselves cleaned off at the showers. We don't need that odor messing with her senses anymore, alright? When you're done, somepony here will lead you to one of the break rooms out of everypony's way."
"...Do they have any cards?" Fiver asks (almost) immediately.
"I don't see why not," Coffee's partner suggests with a shrug.
I set Gray down on the floor. She stumbles and almost falls dizzily, not seeing straight. Ebony's magic and Fiver's strength---both lacking due to various factors, but still present---are able to steady her. "We're here, Mom," Ebony assures her. "We're here for you. Which way are the showers?" Her nose crinkles in disgust. "I've had enough of that smell in half an hour to last me my whole life."
Coffee's partner introduces himself as Rainstorm and volunteers to lead everypony to their destination, while a desk jockey searches out a mop and a Wet Floor sign. With the small stuff out of the way, it's time for me to get to work.
... ...
"So the reason I told you it wasn't too urgent is because none of the agents have been sighted yet," Coffee says once we arrive at the station's hub. "There have been drone sightings, though. All of them except the Torchounds and the Dentadrill---" I wince at the piercingly shrieking reminder of that night. "---are out in force at three specific parts of Manehattan. There's also at least one new drone type that we haven't assigned a name to yet."
"What does it look like?"
"I have an artist's rendering of it," she offers. I nod, and she pulls it off of a desk to show it to me.
As I hold the paper up to see it better, I'm almost immediately struck by the familiarity. A body consisting entirely of a face on stubby little feet (or hooves, in this case), tiny mouth open in a circle, and large eyes. It's protected by an orange helmet that probably wouldn't be out of place at construction sites. The design is different in that the face incorporates a short muzzle, but otherwise it looks almost exactly the same.
If this isn't an incredible coincidence... I whistle in affirmation. "Well, I'll be. They went and built themselves some Mettaurs."
"Mettaurs? You've seen these before?" Coffee asks interestedly as she puts the illustration back. "When was this?"
"Before I ever came here," I tell her straight out. "Mettaurs are one of the oldest and most common mechaniloid designs to exist in Neo Arcadia. They can be modified for use in many environments. Land, sea, air, even low gravity. They're a consistent hit with the populace, half because of their cute design and half because of their low energy requirements."
"If they weren't a threat to the city, I would've suggested somepony make plush dolls of them," admits Coffee with a smile. "I'd buy one."
"I know, right?" I gesture at the helmet. "Now, their offensive prowess isn't anything special. This model probably just has a magic blaster in the mouth. And no matter how they're attacked, they can't take too many hits. The problem lies with their helmets: if they're as durable as the ones back home, they should be able to tank anything short of my best attacks without budging the wearers."
Coffee nods, all business. "What's your suggestion for dealing with them, should we encounter them?"
"Mettaurs typically withdraw into their helmets when attacked, emerge just long enough to fire, then withdraw again. Watch them and learn to time your strikes accordingly. Alternatively: if you're part of a team, have one pony distract them. At that point any earth pony with sufficient strength should be able to approach them from the sides or behind, lift them off the ground by their helmets, and buck them into scrap."
Coffee jots down her notes on my offered countermeasures. "Thanks for the tip. Continuing, the drones are gathering at these three locations..."
She puts down the notes and gestures at a map of the city. Markers have already been placed, with addresses and/or names attached to each. "First, we have the Maximum Millions Shopping Center. It's still under construction, but there's not much more that needs to be done aside from some interior work. There are already ponies planning to open their own stores there. When it's finished, it's supposed to eclipse any small-town marketplace you can find elsewhere in Equestria. Even a few in the larger cities."
"I imagine that their grand opening is going to be set back a little," I comment as I examine the map. "Let's hope their insurance policy is a good one."
Coffee doesn't answer that, instead opting to move on. "The second hotspot's at Ocarina Marina---"
My head snaps down towards her. I couldn't have heard her right. "Come again?"
Coffee hesitates for a second, then repeats herself.
I let my face rest in my hand for a few moments. "Don't tell Gray," I instruct her firmly. "That's the marina that her husband works for. Primarily lifeguard work and safety instruction."
She considers this. "And you don't think she deserves to know that her husband is in danger?" she inquires cautiously.
"As addled as she is right now? She's not going to be in the right mind to make intelligent decisions," I answer, inwardly wincing as my recent experiences in this regard are recalled. "Combat requires both skill and a clear head; go without one or both, and disaster's imminent. Do you know if the drones are threatening the workers there?"
"Everypony's sheltering because of the storm," Coffee confirms. "Nopony is out and about to start with. The one pony who either didn't heed the warnings or never heard about them was pulled out of the ocean and bodily dragged indoors." She takes a sip of water from a nearby cup. "In any case, the drones there are completely fixated on the docks for reasons we don't understand. They're ignoring everypony entirely."
Hopefully they can keep for the moment, depending on the circumstances. "Okay. How about the last hotspot?"
Coffee gestures at the final marker. "Sunrise Laboratories. There have been experiments going on here for a while."
"What kind of experiments?"
She smiles, possibly the broadest one I've seen from her since we've met. "This is... this is so good. They're trying to devise a way to use Celestia's sun as a power source! Once-they-finish-it's-going-to-supplement-hydro-and-wind-power-all-around-Equestria---!"
I raise a hand to quickly cut her off. "Slow down there, coffee addict," I rebuke her. "Getting a little excited there."
Coffee simmers down with a weak chuckle. "I'm sorry. It's just... this is kind of a big thing. A lot of the smaller villages and towns around the country don't have much electrical power. The sources we use now may not be feasible in some cases. Even if it's not a perfect solution on account of cloud cover..." Rolling thunder adds emphasis to her thoughts. "...figuring out how to use sunshine for power is going to do everypony a world of good."
"How long have the Laboratories been in operation?"
"Less than a year. It's a long-term project and there are other tasks being carried out there, so we're not expecting any immediate gains from it. You might want to ask somepony who's more into science and magic if you're interested in the nitty-gritty."
I'll place that on the back burner for now.
Coffee falls silent: she's waiting for me to make a decision on where to go. On the surface, it's easy to prioritize my destinations. The shopping center can wait for a bit, and everypony's safe at the docks. The laboratories should be my first stop: any modern advancements can only help our enemies if they get a hold of them. I open my mouth to state my intent---
"Wha~!"
Coffee yelps and recoils as a sudden flash of green fire takes her off guard. I'm more used to the quirk of dragonfire than she is, so I don't react beyond a raised eyebrow as a crumpled sheet of paper drops into my hand. "You can calm down, officer," I say to her. "I'm just receiving a message."
My navigator gets her bearings. "A message? From who?"
That's a good question, isn't it? It's not the stationery Celestia likes to use, and unless Drama picked up a new quirk without me knowing, I can't picture her using my candle for frivolous reasons. I smooth out the paper against the desk and hold it up to read aloud.
...
"To the self-proclaimed Siren General:
"Go to Maximum Millions upon receiving this. I'm waiting there. Fight me. I'm inclined to leave for personal reasons, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try to destroy you first. Win or lose, none of you will see me again after today. "When you get the chance, please tell Fiver that I wish her the best with her life and health. And in the event of you winning, make sure she stays away from your future battles. If I ever find out that she was hurt because of you, I will retract my departure notice just to make sure you melt. "Calico Driftwood"
...
I have a half-smile as I finish reading. "Well, now. Tell us how you really feel."
Coffee scribbles something on a piece of scrap paper and pins it to the city map. "I guess that answers the question of where you're going first."
I set the letter aside. "Though I'm curious as to how much of this we can trust. Is she really going to remove herself from the equation after the battle? And is she viewing Gray's kid as a morality chain, or does she just want to throw threats around?"
"I assume you're going to at least try to subdue her long enough for us to arrest her?" Coffee asks with an eye roll. "It wouldn't look good if you fought her and just let her get away."
"Well, obviously. Corralling them's what I'm here for." I suppress a snort, but not a chuckle. "Heh... 'corral'. I've been here too long if I'm thinking that's funny."
"If you have time to joke, you have time to get to work," Coffee reminds me. Don't act like you're completely serious, little pony: I can see the corner of your mouth twitching. "Get to Maximum Millions and catch that kirin, but be careful: we know nothing about her race, so we don't know what she's capable of. And one more thing: you've probably noticed our signal difficulties, so if you contact us, don't expect us to answer too much."
"Understood," I agree. "For confirmation's sake, where's the site located?"
Coffee provides me with the answer I want, and I nod in response: I'm familiar with the street, but my patrols haven't taken me that far down yet. With nothing more to say or do, I turn and head for the exit at a fast walk.
"Easy there, Mom. Let's get you up there... there we go."
Ebony guided Gray, who hadn't yet recovered from her bout with her biggest weakness, up to a bench away from the showers. Heavy exposure to excessive catnip had rattled her senses, and she still maneuvered a bit like somepony who thought spinning in place for a solid minute was a good idea. She needed some time to rest.
That being said, now that a good shower had purged the scent from her vicinity, she had regained a little bit of cognizance. "...Eebon?" Gray groaned in a low voice as she stretched out across the bench. "Where am I?"
"The MRPD," Ebony informed her as she helped her dry off. "They let us use their showers to get you tidied up."
Gray's eyes flicked around. "Where is everypony? Where's Ocean and the kids?"
"Dad's at work, remember? Energy's back home, getting rid of all the catnip... and yes, Mom, he's keeping the door and windows locked. Fiver's getting some extra towels... that odor was all over us, too. Zeke's still in the middle of his own shower."
Gray blearily looked from side to side. Sure enough Zig-Zag was heard humming an off-key tune from one of the alcoves, the shower's hissing almost drowning him out. Her chin settled against the bench, and she sighed as everything was as it should be. Her eyes closed as she drifted towards the comforting embrace of sleepy-time, not registering Ebony's presence.
... ...
"...I've got the towels," she faintly heard Fiver say as if she were dreaming.
"Thanks, sis," Ebony answered. "Where are you going?"
"...Restroom."
"Alright. We'll catch up with you in the break room in a few minutes, okay?"
"... ...Hn."
Fiver's hoofsteps faded, and Ebony's voice sounded puzzled. "Weird. She seemed more reluctant than usual. What's gotten into her?"
Gray didn't answer, already slipping away again.
... ...
"Mom, I have to check something. Will you be okay there by yourself for a minute?"
"Mm-hm." Just... so... tired.
"Alright. C'mon, Zig-Zag. Let's hit the break room."
"Break room time! Break room time!"
She disregarded Ebony and Zig-Zag's departure from the room. She wanted to sleep, so she was going to sleep.
