> Bon Hadescream
>  by BubblepipeWrangler
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Darkness Dawning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Oh…" The slightly overweight earth pony moaned, her scratchy voice almost alien to her new senses. Around them was blood, so much beautiful blood splattered over the walls and floor. It was the blood of those who had hated her, despised her for being so good-looking, and tried to take her beloved away from her. "Yes!" Her eyes glowed a new shade of brilliant red, brighter even than the moonlight that trickled in through the house's broken windows. She looked up bashfully at the perfect unicorn of her dreams. "I love you, Edward!"

His voice was beautiful, and he had such a way with words. These others, full of such hate that they called truth, had thought it was dull and dry. They had just wanted him to themselves, but she had won! The old vampire's mouth worked slowly as he droned out his affection. "And I… love you… Bella." Such poetry, such peals of ivory wisdom and wild romanticism! She sighed as they kissed again, sloppily pressing their mouths together and sharing spit as the the mare had always dreamed. A stern knock at small house's front door interrupted their perfect little world.

With a long sigh of disinterested detachment that spoke of his apathy towards all things, one of his perfect attributes as she saw it, her stallion pulled away and trudged toward the entry hall. It was only a few steps, but he could not be bothered with a faster pace. He cast an imposing glare at the front door, his back to a wall that held an Icon Celestia they had defiled together according to page five hundred and ninety of the Necrodiscordobookidex. The door was painted white, a shade that caused him to brood as his coat was the same color. A long moment trudged by before he could bring himself to ask, "Who is it?"

"Oh, you know!" Cooed an energetic voice from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of what could only be a needle scratching a record. It shattered the gloomy drone of crickets almost as thoroughly as the hailstorm of flechettes shattered the entrance. The only warning the unicorn had was a wall of glowing metal shards that ripped through the white wood, traveling too fast for him to hope of dodging. They homed in on his cold body, the aura of magic driving each one through his diamond flesh. He burst like a bloated leach all over the defiled Icon, forelegs flung wide over the outstretched golden wings. By the time the distinct chung of an empty magazine was heard, the only thing still remaining was his head, one eye still whole and his brain able to comprehend only pain. A pale mare casually stepped through the hole she had reduced the front door to. She tugged another drum magazine from inside her crimson trenchcoat and fitted it into the tri-barreled Scatterspell shotgun. The hammer and sickle rune that marked the weapon as a product of the Vladof Corporation was as red as her coat and wide-brimmed hat. Without even a cursory glance toward the other end of the hall, she slung the shotgun around to her back and pulled up her headphones. Her horn glowed softly, and an alignment of soft blue lights pulsed on underneath her trenchcoat. Little sparks of electromagic sketched conduits of energy over her fur. The mare glanced up, her eyes hidden behind shades tinted deep purple.  "A real bucking vampire!" A feral grin stretched across her muzzle.

She was a unicorn, like him. Her coat was white also, as was the remains of his. That was where all similarity stopped. This was not the defeat of a worthy opponent, but the extermination of an insect. The mare closed her eyes and pulsed her horn again. Two half-formed boxes levitated from the depths of her crimson trenchcoat, still linked by tendrils of blue energy to the belts of technomagery strapped around her barrel. As the flow of magic finished piecing the boxes together, the mare's smile widened. With a final flash of sparks, the Magistruct unit finished reproducing her speakers and powered down, but the strange patterns flowing in the shadows of her coat remained. Two massive subwoofers were now pointed at the impaled remains of Edward. He was cursed by immortality to remain alive until thoroughly purged. There were few more thorough ways than hers.

"I know you can still hear me, so I'm gonna tell you how it is. You're about to be cleansed." The mare pulled her red hat down over her purple shades. "On a microscopic level."

Edward could not even scream, his lungs had been perforated and his throat torn open by the initial salvo. His one eye stared in horror at the speakers as they began to glow brighter and brighter, distorting the air about them as they hummed with building sonic charge. The only other noise was the laughter of a madmare, until finally the overdriven 'woofers and tweeters pulsed out a wall of sound so absolute that he heard only silence. Silence that contained an eternity of music beautiful enough to write a new universe into existence, a universe of endless misery and torment under the heels of brütal legends that he would never escape. Then that universe was brought to a screeching end as its atoms ripped themselves apart, disintegrating into a roaring bass wub that was the last thing the soul formerly known as Edward ever experienced.

The pale mare let out a happy sigh as the speakers deconstructed back into her Magistruct unit with an explosion of dim sparks. The wall ahead of her was purified, the Icon Celestia once more a gold and pearl symbol of Harmony that reminded ponies of nearly a thousand years of order. She stepped closer and knelt before it, though instead of a litany of dedication the unicorn muttered "Sorry if that hurt your ears, ma'am." Her heart light now that she had apologized for possibly accidentally deafening the Sun Princess by proxy, she skipped merrily to the next room to mete out some most righteous tailwhuppins. Her neon blue and teal mane bounced about her head until she realized what those frantic hoofsteps she had heard meant. "Daughter of a-" The mare stuffed a hoof in her mouth and glanced back at the Icon Celestia behind her with an apologetic look. The images were not part of some state-sanctioned cult, nothing could be further from the Princess' will, but what was the use of a visual reminder of Harmony if it did not nudge your conscience when you were near? The vampire should have expected this much, really, but had hoped the fledgling would do something stupid like jump in front of the Wubbeams for her shredded sire. Intel had been that these two were hopelessly in love. Oh well. She would have to add "homewrecker" to her résumé. With a smooth gesture the pale mare pulled her headphones back on and swung down the attached microphone. After a light pulse of her horn, the communication runes under her trenchcoat shifted colors. "Octy, we got a runner. You have the target?"

"Again, V." The grey mare answered from atop a nearby roof. "I have told you the importance of operational codenames for these missions." It was a beautiful night, only a few clouds in the sky and a full moon overhead. Why was it always a full moon with these creatures? Still, at least there was more light out. She didn't trust the night-vision goggles, they sparked too much. The earth pony snugged her rifle close, steadying the bipod on the roof and cradling the stock against her shoulder. It was made of a fine wood, much like her cello. "And yes, I have the target in sight." She felt a brief pang of sympathy for the fleeing girl, after all they were of the same breed. However, the fledgling vampire had murdered innocents. The two of them were very different. The sniper tweaked her scope gently to bring the girl's face into focus, and a bulb of recognition lit within her mind. That was the same brat who had heckled a fellow musician years ago, the one who had started yelling right as the decrescendo began and kept going until the ushers drug her out! Now, her eyes were a deep red and her open mouth clearly showed her fangs. The grey mare kept her fetlock wrapped around the trigger. She could go straight to Tartarus as far as Octavia was concerned.

"Well, better take the shot!" Her vampiric partner yelled, trotting back out the ruined front door and looking for a place to climb.

The sniper exhaled, trying to focus her mind and hear the music of the world. A sharp pain began to well up within her skull as she closed one eye, letting the rifle become an extension of her well disciplined body. "Maybe if you just give me a minute to concentr-"

"She's running, she's getting away!" The vampire interrupted, hauling herself atop a nearby shed's roof before jumping towards the one Octavia lay on. "You're going to miss it!"

"If you would kindly shut up and let me focus!" She hissed into her communicator. It was not a hard shot or anything, barely over two kilometers! The target was even moving, to make it easier. A hint of wind tickled her black mane, and she adjusted her aim well above the mare. Her mind ground out estimates of how far the bullet would drop at this range, and how much the wind would play with that little round as it spun through the air. She heard Vinyl in her ear and wished to toggle off her communicator as easily as the unicorn might, but could not move to turn the little knob on her uniform's belt without bringing her weapon off target. She was the best sniper in the organization, she could do this. Just had to find the right set of notes, the right improvisation of movements that would guide the bullet to the target. Every gentle shift of the barrel, every minute adjustment of her body right down to her fetlock on the trigger as she began to pull it cleanly back, all was part of a concerto she was now sight reading. Octavia existed in the pocket of the moment, no longer was this a great contest between her skill with a rifle and the discord of the world. She was a natural part of the environment, completely at peace as though she were standing among a great orchestra's ranks. The grey mare let her mind go blank as the music flowed, both things she knew and those she could not know blending together for an instant of harmony, she merely a musician contributing to the inevitable. Her instrument was hoof-crafted for this work, blessed and enchanted with improbable accuracy. It was able, limited only by the ability of the artist who lay with it. The environment, the distance, even the inaudible thud of the mare's hooves against the road as she ran away in mad panic, was all part of a symphony no less elegant than one performed with her cello.

"Hey, Cellist! Hey, hey, Cellist! Listen! Hey, Listen!" Vinyl reached the roof and toggled off her communicator, close enough now not to need it, as she pulled her headphones down around her neck. "Hey, Octy!"

The roar of the gun tore through the night, punctuated a moment later by the scream of pain from the fledgling as the round tore through her body. The mare's trunk deformed into a bloody mess, and she flopped to the ground with an obliterated spine. Octavia closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, following through the shot just as a mare playing hoofball followed through the goal-winning buck. Decrescendo, dear. She breathed in again, feeling the cold of night fill her lungs as she let her senses sink back to normal. It reminded her that warm little ponies did not belong in this world of darkness. She squeezed her rifle tight for a moment, and when she opened her eyes the world moved at its normal tempo. The silver phosphorus slug at last detonated on the other end of the scope, consuming the fledgling from within before erupting outward in purifying fire that devoured her remains. A shiver passed down Octavia's spine as she stored the memory of carnage away in her mind, along with the string of notes that had ended the undead pony. The cellist nuzzled her instrument with satisfaction, feeling the warmth of the barrel and taking small comfort. She had spoken for the lost, those who would never smile again.

Then she whirled about on her impolite audience. "There! I took the shot, she is down, there is blood everywhere! Are you happy?"

The unicorn hugged her friend tight, wrapping her warm red trenchcoat about the grey mare's trembling body. "Oh, you are such a treat, Octavia."

The earth pony sighed, hugging back and leaning into the pale mare's embrace. Her body was cold, but it was the comforting kind of chill. "Pleasure performing with you as well, Vinyl Scratch." Their styles were in drastic conflict, but together they complimented quite well. It was an odd metaphor for the friendship they shared, but the two mares were admittedly quite odd.

"Dibs on their stuff. I wanna see how it burns." Her neon tail twitched beneath the folds of her coat.

"We have to tend to the dead." Octavia said softly. She felt some pity for the immolated fledgeling, but far more for the vampires' victims. Those who would never see the sun again deserved her tears more than those who had walked an evil path. As for the stallion, those would be wasted tears indeed. She was not a mare who cried much, though. "They deserve at least a peaceful grave."

The unicorn's smile terrified her. Especially the fangs. "Yeah. I know." Her partner pulled away after a moment. "What's wrong?"

"I... V, do you ever wonder if we are wrong? If-"

The vampire groaned loudly. "Octy. We kill ponies who chop up foals, who murder their friends, and who try to throw the world back into discord." She licked her lips. "And we look awesome while we do it. If somepony, or something, wants to live in harmony they have to put the hoof forward and actually do somethin' to prove it." A pale hoof pressed against the sniper's front. "You taught me that. Those two went on a petty spree of chaos, and that's dancin' in the opposite direction."

Something still troubled her partner. "But-"

"You always say 'We speak for the lost.'" Her glasses drooped down on her muzzle, revealing her crimson eyes. "Well, we just loved 'n' tolerated the tar outa those two for the lost."

 A slight lifting of the corners of her mouth was Octavia's first response. "Yes, V. I know that." The grey mare cleared her throat. "I was asking if... well, if the two of us are wrong." She ran a hoof idly over a roof tile. "I do not want to hold you back."

The terrible smile flashed again. The unicorn tipped her head up and let her glasses slide down into place. "Hold me back? Octy, you cover my back. You give me the chance to take care of business my way and have a great time, but when I screw up and let something get away you drop a slug in her like it's no big thing." She smacked one hoof into another for emphasis, or perhaps just because she liked the sound it made. "You always help me out in a jam. I wouldn't, naw, I flat-out couldn't work with anypony who wasn't there for me like you." A pale fetlock ran smoothly through the earth pony's mane. Vinyl always admired long hair, but having it herself was out of the question. Too much work to mane-tain, haha!

Cheeks now almost as pink as her bowtie, the sniper looked up at the moon, chiefly because it was not Vinyl's eyes. There were stories that an ancient evil was locked away up there. They would stay stories, if she had anything to say about it. The world had enough missed notes already. "You really are much more effective than you let on. A little discipline and restraint would-"

"Take all the fun out!" The vampire groaned.

It was too humorous to the cellist. "We are quite unorthodox, are we not?" She chuckled.

"Heresy is my middle name, and the proof of the song is in the headbangin' fans." Her partner winced, so Vinyl naturally had to continue. "That wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'. Dunno where I'll be tomorrow night. For now... Wub-a-scrub-dub, Octy. Makin' the world a better place."

"We speak for the lost. Those who can never smile again, we give rest." Octavia whispered the mantra, told to her by another of her breed. The words were old, older than much of the music she liked and yet younger than some of the truly ancient masterpieces. She could not form the original words, written as they were for dragon-tongues rather than ponies', but the meaning transcended linguistic barriers and was quite relevant in the present nights. "We cheer the innocent. We act for the victims. We who have won life's lottery will answer, not in guilt but acceptance of our duty, for those too weak to cry out." A slow breath. There was one more line, but she need not say it now. Both of them knew it by heart.

Or, whatever it was Vinyl had inside her. Now that, was funny.



> An Enthusiastic Walk
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Now, I know what you're thinking. How did all this come about? How did a mare as classy and ravishing as Octavia wind up working with a terror of the night like me?"

The grey mare cleared her throat. "Actually, I was wondering how you managed to get a recording without anypony else noticing. Professionally-shot, no less." She leaned closer, nosing over the bin that had held the film reel. "Is this thirty-five millimeter?"

Vinyl kicked the projector, which had stalled on an image of her walking down one of Manehattan's more prestigious avenues during the middle of the night. Something inside it clunked, and a green diode lit on one side. "Yup. Even got sound too. I was filming my biography, Why I'm So Great, inspired by that egomaniacal dragon-duke of Kadath's similarly titled work." 

Octavia blinked. "What in Celestia's name is Kadath?"

Her partner winced. "Oh. Yeah... ah... it's the city of dreams below the end of the world."

Octavia blinked again, and tilted her head to the side.

"Long time ago, and I mean back before Equestria was founded, dragons ruled pretty much everything. Y'know that, right?"

"Yes," the grey mare replied cautiously, "I think they still believe that they rule everything, since they tend to go where they please. There's some kind of migration coming up in a decade or so." The Organization kept tabs on things like that, but dragons were a curiosity, not a threat. Most of the time. 

"Yeah, but I mean way back when, before us ponies were even three warring tribes, they had this world rigged up like a Derpy Punk concert." She spat out a sliver of bubblegum and pressed it into the guts of the projector. A spark of aethral energy fluttered out of the machine and traced a shimmering rune over the side of its polished brass casing. "Magic like you wouldn't believe, and they did it all with music. No natural magical ability at all." A grin flashed across her muzzle. "They called it the Metal Epoch. They'd still be rocking the world... except they got greedy. One'a their berserker-poets put it pretty well, 'A dragon's desire is an endless void, never to be filled. An eternal hunger that never dies, and never to be killed.'" A spark of magic jolted from the brass casing of the projector and sizzled into the vampire's fetlock. She hissed in pain.

Her partner nodded. "Hence the saying, 'Greedy as a dragon'?"

"Pretty much. Kadath is the land that does not exist, in the plane of reality found only by dreamers. Dragons believe that one day, once they truly know themselves, they'll be able to find their way to Kadath. It's part of why they sleep so much."

"Vinyl... you do realize that you're spouting nonsense, yes? None of what you are saying is supported by any credible source."

"Eh. It's a real city. After their society crumbled and the pony tribes started to rise, one of their big heroes founded a city and called it Kadath. It's below the end of the world." The vampire glanced to the side and saw her partner's disbelieving smile. "Hey, Mom got it straight from that dragon-duke during the Great Crusade. She used to read me bedtime stories out of the book he wrote that they based his movie on." The vampire glanced at her partner over the rims of her glasses and winked conspiratorially. "It's really cool, his signature on the inner cover glows with a wicked red aura. Mom never needed a nightlight, 'cause the words all conduct the sinewave resonance from that aura and backlight themselves." She slammed the cover shut on the projector, and dusted off her hooves. "I really need to introduce her to you."

A slow nod was all the answer that the sniper gave. Sometimes it was best to just let Vinyl talk, and not ask questions. The grey mare's mind was a peaceful island in the midst of a sea of eldrich knowledge, and it was not meant for her to voyage far. The film stuttered again as Octavia dimmed the room's lights and sat down next to her partner, but evened out after the unicorn shot the machine a hard look. The earth pony adjusted her uniform. It had sleeves that let her wield a rifle without restraining movement, the Organization's patch on her right shoulder, and enough small pockets for all the dainty bits that a sniper needed in the field. The hind part was a skirt, and the entire outfit was a light tan that actually looked quite good with her black mane and tail. The tan color was for visibility, mortals had trouble seeing one another while most creatures of the night did not. The uniforms were standard issue, each made of several materials with more syllables than a cellist should be asked to remember. Armor plating, moderately enchanted, was sandwiched in the cloth where it might be helpful, though it bent with her body enough that she rarely noticed the extra weight anymore. There were several other uniforms in differing camouflage patterns, but tonight was not for fighting. Her pink bowtie remained classy as always, though it also served as an emergency transponder. "Ah, Vinyl. I do not remember a film crew when we met on that night." A shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

The pale mare waved a dismissive hoof at the large screen. "Mom's really good at training 'em." Upon receiving a blank look, Vinyl sighed. "Right, I really need to introduce you two. She's freakin' awesome at training spies and the like. That, plus what she's best at in life, plus dad being himself, equals some of the best ninja-cameraponies in Equestria. You can see the boom mic if you look in a coupla' scenes, these are just trainees after all. This was their year-end project, and I kinda put 'em through the wringer." The vampire ran her tongue over her teeth and adjusted her glasses. "Good thing they trusted me. Either that, or they really wanted that grade."

Octavia cleared her throat. "Vinyl... you understand how traumatic that night was for me." She turned to look the pale mare full in the face. "Why do you want me to watch this?"

"Because..." The vampire shuffled her hooves uncomfortably. "Octy, I want you to see what I was like back then. Back when I had to hide everything I was from everypony. I was miserable."

A quiet laugh came from her partner. "I seem to recall DJ-P0N3 was the toast of the party scene, and made more bits in a month than a struggling cellist could hope to in a year."

Vinyl nodded. "Yeah. DJ-P0N3 was doin' just fine. She had all the friends, VIP at any club, and best of all she could party as hard as she wanted. Waking up dead wouldn't be a problem for her." The unicorn smiled, though her head was crooked oddly to one side. "But she was one-dimensional. DJ-P0N3 was never an artist, she was just the mare behind the turntables. You'd see her, you'd love her, but that was all. I thought I didn't care, as long as I was happy why did it matter, right? Well, it matters. Without a reason to party, without a reason to laugh, I was just going through the motions. Vinyl was cold and lonely inside, and she was the artist that made that DJ possible."

"You had everything you wanted." Octavia said quietly. "Everything I wanted as well... save that I longed to be on a stage of refinement, not under the blazing lights of a nightclub."

"If I was just a mortal, yeah, I'd'a been good with it. Loosen up, meet some ponies in the scene who actually cared about the mare under the mask, have a few buddies and live big. Problem is..." She smiled, revealing her pointed fangs nestled in a mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Octavia had seen her bite straight through steel plate armor. "I couldn't just put everything about myself out there, so I had to keep everypony at a distance. I sorta drifted apart from myself. DJ-P0N3 had all the fun, Vinyl walked the streets as a listless creature of the night, trying to get her kicks from killing those of her own kind who didn't manage to coexist with mortals." The remaining air in her lungs hissed out in a sigh, and she took in another breath. "A couple more months, and I'd have given up. I'd have just stopped, tried to forget Vinyl Scratch completely and just live as DJ-P0N3. Mom told me about how she'd go into torpor when ponykind bored her, and that'd be pretty much what I'd do. I'd just be walking, body moving on automatic and magic spinning the records, but mind barely working. I'd... I'd stop laughing because things were funny, but I'd still laugh when it seemed right." She looked at her partner. "Does any of that even make sense?"

Octavia nodded. "And that would kill DJ-P0N3, too. Without substance, you'd be the same as any other record abuser." A subtle jab, yes, but Vinyl usually laughed such off.

"Yeah." This time she accepted the label without even a smirk. "I'd be a poseur sellout trying to cling onto her glory days." She went to spit in disgust, but swallowed under Octavia's glare. "What I'm trying to say is... well, you saved me. You gave me a reason to laugh, a reason to... well, a reason to keep being Vinyl Scratch and not just fade away."

"I have never met your mother, but if she cares for you one eighth as much as you do for her, she would not have let you." It was a somewhat envy-laced thought for the earth pony, her own parents were significantly less cherishable memories.

"There's a difference between your mom slapping you on the head and asking if she's made a horrible mistake in rearing you, and your best friend giving you a reason not to melt into your masks. Octy, I want you to see what I was like. The stuff I kept hidden from everypony else because I had to." The pale mare contracted a little and looked over her glasses with sad red eyes. "Please."

"Vinyl, I never refused. I wanted to know why. You know..." She could not suppress a snort, for she had earned that much at least. "That was the greatest and yet the worst night of my life. Also," the mare tapped her chin with a hoof, "I am unsure if I want too deep of a glimpse into your mind. How should I... Ah. You are insane."

Those sad red eyes swirled with the remains of countless souls, and glowed softly with eldrich power drained from their lifeforce. It was an enchanting display, and rather pleasant to look at when the vampire was not angry, but made any expression of sorrow or innocence rather moot. "Still workin' on the certificate, but thanks." A moment of silence passed between them. "Octavia... we are friends, right?"

It was a very unexpected question, but the cellist's answer was swift. "Yes, Vinyl."

The vampire still seemed uncomfortable. "If you don't wanna watch this, I under-"

"Do you want me to storm out bemoaning your insensitivity?" She raised an eyebrow. Why was she acting this way? Vinyl was usually reckless and impulsive, but tonight the vampire was light-stepping over eggshells. It made the earth pony uncomfortable. "Usually you start trying to nibble when that is your game."

"No-"

"Then," The sniper settled into a comfortable sitting position, "play the darn reel, Vinyl Scratch. I am a big girl, I can handle it." Her face softened when she saw the unicorn crawl toward the projector, ears low against her head. A flash of comprehension shot through Octavia's mind. Was that it? Something so simple? She softened her tone, "And if I cannot... I have a friend who can."

The vampire's face lit up. Her ears twitched up as though she had heard a live band, her eyes glowed bright behind the deep purple glasses, and her smile returned. She looked back over her shoulder. "Thanks, Octy."

A silent nod was again her response. For such a robust undead monstrosity, Vinyl could be quite delicate. After all they had been through, she still had some niggling fear at the base of her immortal psyche about their friendship. She needed to be reminded sometimes that yes, they were on good terms, despite some appearances. Octavia was a reasonably perceptive mare, though she saw best from a distance. Perhaps tonight she might find out why that fear remained. It was certainly not abandonment, the unicorn's parents were anything but absent in her life. With a sigh, the earth pony rolled her shoulders and flicked her tail to one side, hating to sit on it even to play her cello. She was no psychologist, that was another in the Organization's job. She was a watcher, a patient mare who knew how to wait for just the right moment to ease back on the trigger. Hopefully it would be worth her time, for Vinyl could be petty on occasion.

Then again, petty was not fair. She simply freaked out over different things that seemed quite trivial to the cellist. But nopony had ever gotten in trouble for stressing out over minor things, right? Not yet, anyways. Reluctantly, Octavia realized that she could not let Vinyl be the first.


* * *



"Well, it all started one night when I was taking a stroll through Manehattan." Vinyl began. The projector purred softly as the movie played across the large screen.

"Why did you bring a camera crew with you?" Octavia asked with a suspicious look.

"Pssh. I always bring a camera crew when I take an enthusiastic walk." The vampire waved in the air with her two front hooves. "Everypony thinks I'm braggin' otherwise, and it's a good workout for the film jockeys."

The sniper groaned and buried her face in her fetlocks. "Did you have them record last night's mission as well?" She mumbled.

"Aww yeah! That's gonna get those two a gold star for sure. Breakin' into a house, shooting up some sack'a'chum thirty-six times-"

"Thirty-seven." Octavia grumbled. "I counted the blasts, and I was also the one who cleaned up your shell-casings."

The pale mare flopped atop the cellist and wrapped her front legs about Octavia's head and neck. "An' you blew away that other one like a total boss, Octy!" She waved a hoof in the air, while the Vinyl on screen stopped to admire the way the moon reflected in the mosaic-glass window of a club. "I was all like, 'You're gonna miss it!', and then you were all like 'nuh-uh, Vinyl, watch this!'"

The earth pony whimpered in dignified distress, but no one came to deliver the dame.

"An' then wha-bam! Takedown! Aww, she thought she could run, but she couldn't hide from these eyes! An' then you lower the boom like an artist."

"Then I give the target peace." She answered. "I give them a little piece of my soul, for a sniper knows her target when she pulls the trigger. Each one was a partner in a duet, though few knew their part. The performers may be separated by all space, but in the mind they are a hoof's length away. Each shot is different, the motions are never the same twice. It is a... a horrid concerto that can never be played quite the same way again. The whims of the environment do not allow it." The grey mare sighed. Her words were pearls before swine, but they were as much for herself as the vampire. "And so I give away a little piece of myself each time I finish such a song. I can never get it back. Such is the price of a deadly art, and those who do not pay it soon lose all their soul rather than little pieces of themselves." She was silent for a few long moments, watching the screen. The unicorn had told her that this was not the important part of the movie, but it still revealed many things she had long suspected.

On the screen, Vinyl ambled listlessly past an apartment complex, then through a dark alley. The camera crew followed behind, unnoticed by the other pedestrians. The vampire wandered aimlessly, insulated from the night by the same dashing red trenchcoat and hat that she now wore. She trotted by the same shop twice just because the owner was changing humorous quotes in the display sign on her first pass. Once she grumbled that there was too little crime in the city, a musing that earned her odd looks from a passing couple. The cameramare had managed quite a few impressive angles on her subject, on one occasion filming Vinyl's reflection in the hubcap of a vehicle across the street as the pale mare turned a corner. It was a compilation of artistic shots to be sure, but it was art Octavia could appreciate. She felt the weight of the vampire on her back and realized just how lonely the unicorn had been in those days. Purple shades hid her eyes for most of the movie, but on the one occasion Vinyl lifted them to look up at the moon her crimson irises were dull. She walked the streets in search of a cheap thrill, looking for anything to make her laugh. Once or twice she chuckled at an advertisement or a silly hat. At one point she stopped before a club, stared into the open doors and perked her ears up at the welcoming throb of bass, then walked away with her neck slumped. DJ-P0N3 was the princess of the club, ruler of Wubestria, but Vinyl could not find solace there on this night. Something nagged at her mind, keeping her from the lights and sounds that she craved. The thought never revealed itself, so she stalked the streets in search of herself as the evening wore onward.

Octavia was admiring a particularly spectacular view of the city, for the vampire had climbed a tower and perched atop it like a stone statue, when a question bubbled in her mind. "Vinyl... how often did you do this?"

"Every night I didn't have a gig." Her voice was flat. "Every morning after a club closed. Started walking just to get out, kept it up 'cause I would run into nasties and put 'em away, and couldn't stop because it became a habit. An' I didn't have anything else to do."

"I... I am so sorry, my friend." The cellist whispered. It seemed grand enough on the screen, a lone sentinel stalking the darkness, but the movie showed a mere ten minutes of skillfully edited footage. The moon was always low in the sky, this was all filmed in one early evening. To walk like this, to wander in search of a justification for your existence for even one night, frightened the grey mare. Mortals knew the world was theirs to claim, ponies all the more thanks to Celestia and cutie marks. A vampire could not live as a mortal, for they were Discord-spawned aberrations. They could only feign mortality to find acceptance, but where could a creature of the night find true friends? Where indeed. Octavia realized that she was not so different. Where could a mare too busy with performing, practicing, and struggling to make the rent find a use for those terrible skills taught by her father long ago? Fate had driven both of them into the embrace of the Organization.

"That's why I wanted you to see this." The vampire bit her lip, then rolled off her partner. The essential part of the movie was about to begin anyway. "Just... promise me one thing."

Immediately wary, Octavia raised an eyebrow. As if to prove her suspicions valid, the vampire on screen tried to zipline down a telegraph wire with a stocking. She fell twelve stories.

Vinyl was not looking at the movie, though. She stared straight at the earth pony. "Promise you won't get mad."

Ordinarily, she would make no such promise, and would start storing up quiet rage in a preemptive reserve. Ordinarily Vinyl did not have that look of vulnerability upon her face that even the red glow behind her glasses could not invalidate. Octavia nodded slowly. "I promise, Vinyl."

The vampire pushed her glasses back up on her face and smiled sweetly. Octy was the best. A little snooty sometimes, but still the best.

"Do not make me add a disclaimer to that promise."

Still the best.


* * *



A black object was visible for a few frames, just above Vinyl's red hat. "Bingo. Boom mic. 'course, he was startled, so can't knock too many points off."

The soundpony could only have been startled by the gut-wrenching scream that had warbled out of the speakers. The Vinyl on screen cupped a fetlock to her ear, then trotted curiously up the steps of the massive building from whence the scream had come. It looked suspiciously like the Blueblood Concertorium, though the cameramare did not swing the camera too high, most likely out of fear that the giant neon sign proclaiming the prince's name might blind viewers.

"For some strange reason, my hooves took me to this hall of music on this fateful night. Was I called by destiny, or did chance alone guide my numb wanderings?" Vinyl sighed, pressing a fetlock to her forehead as some of the ponies did in those theater productions Octy liked.

"Ah..." Octavia thought better of suggesting the real reason she had come to the concert hall.

"Anyway, the air was clear, the moon was full, and I was dying to sink my teeth into something." She giggled, then nudged Octavia. "Get it?" Vinyl elbowed the still-stoic mare. "Because I'm a vampire." This was comedy gold! The madmare broke down into a maniacal laugh sufficient to chill the blood of any mortal in a hundred-meter radius.

Except for one who already had iced water in her veins, to borrow the colloquialism. "Vinyl, can we please just watch this without too much commentary?" She wrapped a front leg about the unicorn's shoulders after they slumped in response. "Oh, and before you get any more troublesome thoughts, I am not open to mid-movie snacking."

The pale mare grumbled something about candy and getting here soon before slumping onto the earth pony. If she could not have blood, at least she would have warmth.

On the screen, the curious vampire had entered the Concertorium and trotted through the lobby while her future self had been talking. The pale unicorn hopped over a velvet rope, after all there was nopony in the ticket booth, and knocked the partially-open double doors leading to the concert hall out of the way with a good buck. The soundpony gasped as the crew followed their subject inside. Blueblood Concertorium was one single, giant concert hall that could seat countless ponies in a half-amphitheatre arrangement under a massive marble ceiling. Rumors abounded that the theater was an exercise in humility for the young prince, that he had been forbidden by Celestia herself from building any boxes or other exclusive arrangements for the elite. All who booked a seat at the Concertorium would be equal in comfort, though the closest seats still cost goodly sums. While unsubstantiated, the rumor went a long way toward explaining why the beautiful hall had been so oddly constructed. The sheer vastness of the room was often enough to take newcomers' breath away, but the cameramare was given the double shock of both the concert hall and how horribly it had been defiled. Bodies, intact and dismembered, were strewn everywhere. Blood dribbled from those who had been thrown high and caught on the various decorations. What once had been a sanctuary to music, to Order and culture, was now a charnel house of Chaos.

Vinyl trotted calmly down the central aisle, down the steps inlaid with the Prince's likeness, towards the stage below. Her head did not turn to the right or the left, even though the camera swiveled smoothly from side to side to show the remains of Manehattan mares and stallions slumped over their seats, struck down in flight. Many were stacked up at the exits. All ways in or out were jammed but the main doors, by which Vinyl had entered. It seemed nopony had been able to escape. There was little sound, other than the soft plodding of the vampire's hooves as she descended. The cameramare moved closer to the pale pony, letting only a meter separate them, and Octavia marveled at how loyal they must be to follow the vampire into what must have seemed the jaws of death. Or perhaps they were just as crazy as the madmare. After a moment, she was close enough to the stage to be noticed by the one pony on it who still stood on his own four hooves. He turned about, eyes an unnatural red and teeth clearly more intended for flesh than hay. The stallion laughed once, then roared in a voice amplified by the room's natural acoustics down at the unicorn. "So, you came!"

The mare on screen inspected one of her forehooves. She had investigated to find something interesting, something to draw her out of the night's boredom, and so far had not. The one next to the projector giggled, but Octavia gagged her with a hoof before anything more than "That's what s-" left her mouth. 

Not privy to such future ridicule, the stallion continued his rant. "Too bad you're far too late!"

Vinyl looked up, casually rubbing a hoof against her front. The camera quickly showed her line of sight before swiveling back to the confused expression on the pale mare's face. "What?"

"Everypony here is already dead!" The stallion chortled as the camerapony finally got a good angle on him. He wore the remains of a professor's uniform. The emblems that had once marked him as a honorable member of the Educarchy hung in discordant shreds from his white-collared suit. He raised his front hooves, stood up on his hindlegs, and one by one the bodies in the entire concert hall began to groan. A soft curse was heard from the soundpony, and a boom mic tip dropped back into the picture as the camera spun slowly about the room. Every one of the corpses had begun to rise. Their eyes glowed with some fragment of their controller's evil light, and one who was only a set of forelegs and a head took a swipe at the mic operator. Another curse was heard as he danced out of the way, visible only as a blur for a moment as the camera turned upward to find that even those dead ponies decorating the walls had begun to writhe in parody of the living.

"Mhmm. Zombies." The pale mare sighed, then muttered quietly. "Block the doors, bite the fleeing, breeding more with each chomp." She looked about and waved a hoof. "Messy." Waste sometimes annoyed her. Things wasted could not be squandered on awesomeness. It was highly subjective, but she hardly needed more reasons to be annoyed with the stallion.

The worst of the creeping horrors were onstage. Every member of the orchestra seemed to have been turned into a servant of this wicked creature. They shambled forward, for the most part still with intact bodies, wielding their instruments as weapons. Blood oozed from twin gashes on each of their necks, quite unlike the ragged and random bites on the bodies of the many groaning ponies that had once been their audience, as they fanned out about him in a half-circle on the stage. Each of the former musical titans moaned in unthinking agony as they made a gruesome mockery of the proud tradition they once embodied, with the creature who had defiled their souls as a vile conductor.

"Except…" The stallion reached back and hauled a grey mare in front of him, forcing her onto her hindlegs as well. She screamed in pain again, for it had obviously been her scream that had attracted the pale mare to this charnel hall, as he forced her to stand. The mare's cry resonated through the room, for its architectural acoustics had been well crafted. The camera zoomed in to show the shard of bone that poked through her right hindleg. Bruises and cuts covered the rest of her body. Her grey coat was really more of a mottled black in many places from dried blood, much of which was not her own, and a soiled pink bow hung forlorn about her neck from a collar that had once been white. "For this little tart! She actually managed to hold me off for a moment or two, so I saved her for last!"

The mare in the red hat tilted her purple shades down and raised an eyebrow. The zombies' groaning bothered her slightly, but on the whole she was still bored. Her mind whispered something again, but once more she was unable to catch the thought before it slipped away.
    
"But trust me, I'm still going to kill her!" His tongue lolled out of his mouth, absurdly long as was the norm for his kind, and drool trickled down the grey mare's front. She whimpered softly, as much from terror as pain. The earth pony's head was still slumped down on her front, too low for the camera to get a good look at her face.

Vinyl retained her disinterested tone. "Mmm-hm." The pale mare still had not bothered to look too closely at the stage, and her mind was numb to most input at the moment anyway. At least muggers ran and screamed. Once there had been a bank robbery, such fun! Vinyl made a mental note to return some of the money the very next time she remembered. The very next.

"But first," The former teacher growled, drunk on power. "I'm going to rape her!"

"Neat." The unicorn told him with a trace of a scheming smile. A threat like that normally would have made her angry. As it was, he was already going to end up a gelding. She saw him flare his wings out in some showboating effort to intimidate her that only revealed weakness. Really, if you've got a room full of zombies the only thing that can make you more intimidating is revealing that you're more dangerous than all of them combined. Showing off your wings really did not cut it, but Pegasi were so prone to flashing their feathers that the vampire could not hold it too much against him. It did shift his center of weight though, which ground the grey mare's broken bone deeper into her flesh and caused her to scream once more before biting her lower lip. She seemed determined to die with at least some dignity.

"But before I can do any of that." The camerapony zoomed in closer to get the vampiric professor's face. It was hard since he hid behind his mortal shield, perhaps not on purpose but mere cowardly instinct, just as a mouse who has never seen a manticore before still feels a need to flee. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Oh?" The unicorn asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I know you, Eighth!" He hissed. "I know how you walk the shadows, preying on our race as we do upon mortals. You drink our vitae to grow stronger, but no more! Tonight I shall give you final death!" His eyes glowed faintly, a feeble imitation of the power contained behind Vinyl's glasses. "Go forth my army, my minions, my slaves!" His voice grew louder with each word, and he cackled wildly as the zombies lurched closer around the impassive mare. As the first rank of his orchestra shuffled towards the edge of the stage, he glowered down at her. "Fall to your knees and beg, Eighth!"

Vinyl chuckled, then smirked at the stage, leaning her head back so the shadow of her hat hid her face from view. All that could be seen by the camera was two glowing orbs of red, tinted deep purple in the center by her glasses, but pure crimson energy leaked around the edges. "Y'see, that would be intimidating… well…" She chuckled again. "If you were actually intimidating."

The professor's body stiffened, and the zombies lurched closer, groaning some ancient chant of chaos. "Are you mocking me?"

The mare in the red hat sighed. "Oh, no. No, no." Then she laughed, throwing back her head and lifting her hat to let her electric-blue mane spill free. "Pssh. Yeah!"

What happened next was a testament to the filming crew's skill, training, and most of all fanatic devotion. The camera jiggled slightly as the pony holding it slapped a button on the side, sending it into high-framerate mode. Vinyl galloped forward at an impossible speed, made all the more dramatic by how slow it seemed when played back. It stretched on the movie just long enough to bore the viewer, until the realization that she was the only thing truly moving clicked. The one sound recorded during the moment abruptly crushed the zombies' groaning, but was so drawn out over the course of thousands of individual frames that it could hardly be recognized as the scratching of a record. Everything else managed to twitch slightly on the screen while she ran forward, her fetlocks twisting into gleaming chromium claws, lept onto the stage, and drove her barbed left foreleg straight through the captive mare's underbelly. It tore out just to the side of her spinal column and ripped right through the disgraced professor's barrel, then out through his back as well. Due to forethought and some implausible trick of movie magic, the soundpony managed to be on stage as well. His mic could be seen arched over a discarded tuba, and so the sounds of a screaming stallion were perfectly preserved on the reel as well. Vinyl casually twisted her foreleg inside the teacher. The camerapony switched back to regular speed and for a frame a hint of hoof could be seen as she wiped her brow in relief at getting such a good take. A little wobble was all that betrayed the pounding of her heart, for few things could compare to the adrenal rush of being both witness and worthy recorder to such a feat.

"For the record, I stopped using that alias a long time ago." A small corner of her brain protested that was not entirely true. It was ignored as she wrenched her claw inside him, flexing the metal talons and wrapping them slowly around his spine. The pegasi vomited up blood as the pale mare destroyed him from within, ignoring the sobs of excruciating pain from the mortal slumped between them. Collateral damage had never affected her very much. Everypony was dead if she didn't show up, so no use crying over the ones who got in the way. Her future self grimaced slightly, for as awesome as it had been in the moment, the consequences still unnerved her. She glanced over at her partner, then at the floor, then wrapped her arms around the grey mare. Octavia shut one eye as the vampire nuzzled against her cheek, then with a sigh rested a hoof on her friend's shoulder and drew her close. Their eyes turned back to the movie.

Finally, the vampire's horn glowed. Magic surged through her claw and up the fallen Educarch's spine. Vinyl leaned forward, oblivious to the body between them, and forced her tongue into his mouth. Blood burbled down her throat and splattered all over the three ponies. She did not drink it, but merely used the vitae as a conduit for her power. For a brief second, she touched his very soul. It was a second that lasted forever on another plane of existence, but on the mortal one the colt had just enough time to scream "No!" before he was turned to ash.

The vampire pulled her foreleg back out of the mare and she collapsed atop the charred remains. Vinyl licked her claw, then spat and made a disgusted face. "Eww. Tastes like powdered milk." Which made sense, after all. He had just gorged on countless mortals, and then squandered all that power on raising a zombie horde. Still, Vinyl could not blame him. Zombie hordes were pretty cool, even when some punk poser used 'em. She adjusted her hat, then mused "Well, that about wraps everything up here." On the floor, bleeding internally and externally, her body broken from a doomed struggle, the grey mare could only whimper. Vinyl looked down at her. Something the vampire really should have noticed clicked in her mind, and she pressed her right front hoof to her face. "Oh, right! Zombies!"

> Don't Know What You Got (Till It's Gone)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl reached into her trenchcoat and drew forth a guitar. The zombies, disoriented from the death of their controller and the piercing scratch that had cut off their chanting, began to recover. For an instant the soundpony could be seen yanking his tail away from a former oboe player's teeth, then diving behind another chunk of cover. The vampire kissed the headstock of her instrument. It was a gleaming point of steel atop the rune-engraved fretboard and had been carefully molded in the image of the Fire-Beast, Cremator of the Sky in ancient Draconic lore. She leaned back on her haunches and ripped out a wicked solo that was amplified by the headphones around her neck. It rumbled through the ground, the room's acoustics and sanctification to music multiplying her skillful playing, until she lept into the air and slammed down the final note as she landed. A great fissure opened in the heights of the ceiling, webbing out through the marble dome until it could take no more and crumbled down to reveal the moonlit night above. Massive chunks of marble fell upon the zombies, smashing them into paste, and the stage too collapsed, leaving nothing but an island of rock around the unicorn and her chosen survivors. The roof just above her crumbled to gravel and sloughed off around them, catching the few zombies who had escaped their initial judgement under a hail of smaller rocks.

The soundpony murmured a long plea of protection as he huddled together with the cameramare. Her voice joined his as Vinyl tilted her head back and began to laugh maniacally while drawing the song to a close. The concert hall lay in ruins, though it was almost an improvement over the carnage that had desecrated it. With a final power chord, the vampire struck a dramatic pose and held her guitar high above her head, the strings still vibrating. The film crew pulled away from each other, evidenced by the camera shaking just so and a hint of the boom mic visible at one corner of the screen. Their subject rolled her forelegs and stowed her guitar after kissing it again, then glanced about the room. That, that had been fun, but it was over too soon. She had just given final rest to the many innocent souls caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, but all the emotion she showed was an idle lick at her bloodstained left fetlock. "Mmm. Chee, he sucked on a lot of them. Musta been linked with his zombies. That's pretty 'ard to do." 

The cameramare tried to get as much of the destruction on video as she could, but found her skills wholly inadequate to capture just how it felt to stand in a once proud concert hall and see it so thoroughly demolished. She gave up and just swiveled the camera to follow the vampire, her movements numb and mechanical as the frightened film jockey's consciousness retreated from the world. Blood and drama was one thing, having a building collapse around you quite another.

Vinyl adjusted her hat. "Well, that wraps things up here."

A soft gargle came from the earth pony below her as she struggled to not choke to death on her own blood. Her mulberry eyes had long ago clouded over, and the grey mare could barely see. Hearing was the last thing to go, so she could still register the pale mare's voice even if her brain could barely comprehend it. It was much more occupied with trying to understand how she was still alive.

"Oh. Forgot about you. Right." The pale mare scratched her neon mane with a hoof. "Sorry about that, got a little caught up in the moment. Stabbing him in the face just didn't seem as cool. I'm sure if you look deep in your heart, which is probably all over my left fetlock, you'll be able to forgive me."

She could not even move her eyes. A slight twitch, the barest hint of adjustment in her soft purple irises, was all that remained to her. Something collapsed inside her barrel, and a hiss of escaping air pushed flecks of blood out of her mouth along with a sad "Mmhlp."

"Aww, you're like a puppy." The vampire knelt down by her side, crimson eyes still dull behind her glasses. "A black-maned, eviscerated puppy." The "puppy" gurgled again, her muscles going slack. Any other breed would be dead, only her earth pony resilience gave her any excuse for clinging to life. Vinyl looked away, for the most part ignoring the stirring of her mind in reaction to black hair. She was running on automatic tonight, walking as the dead among the living. Thought was a bother, for it distracted from chaos. Good chaos, though. She did good things, not evil ones. Another gurgle came from the floor.

"Celestia! Fine, I'll help you." She smirked to cover up her act of mercy. Vinyl leaned down to the musician, mind frantically trying to grasp that important realization that any mortal would have made long ago. "But only because you've got a nice flank. A really nice flank." She paused. "A really familiar flank." Too familiar. For the first time since she had left her apartment, the pale mare thought about her surroundings instead of simply reacting to them. Her mind reconnected to her body, and all of her senses poured in the volumes of information they had archived. It took the unicorn a long moment to accept what her eyes had been trying to tell her ever since she walked into the concert hall. Vinyl looked from her left foreleg to the gutted mare one last time, then whispered in horror "Octavia?"

The grey mare gurgled again. None but her could say if it was in recognition or exasperation, and even as she watched the scene the cellist could not remember. Her brain had been almost dead from oxygen deprivation at that point, and her recollections of that night were hazy at best after she had been brutalized by the ex-professor.

Vinyl raised a hoof to her mouth in shock. Her mind should feel no worse about impaling the mare now than when it had been an automatic action. Everypony would have been dead if she had not shown up, right? No use thinking about the ones that got in the way. Still, she was horrified that her secret was out. Octavia now knew what she was, had seen it with her own eyes and felt it with her own body. The wall between her masks had broken down abruptly, and the unicorn did not know what to do. Octavia was not collateral damage, but somepony Vinyl had tried for a considerable length of time to disguise her true nature from. She was the one mare that was always there for her when she was in a jam. Now she was lying on the floor, close to death, and Vinyl had no idea why. Yes, the vampire had stabbed her, but she had not stabbed Octavia! She had just... She had only... But...

It wasn't fair!

The unicorn pressed her front hooves, one bloody and one clean, against her face. No, this was not good. She had a system set up. Lie to everypony. Keep everyone away from what was behind her masks. That way she could please everypony, especially herself. It was not her fault, Octavia shouldn't have been here tonight! This and hundreds of other excuses swirled through her mind, but she was burdened with knowledge that kept her from slogging off the blame. It was her fault. She had been raised better than to run away from her mistakes. So, after forcing her eyes open to discover that yes, this was real, all the swirling thoughts drifted away. She felt a vague ringing in her ears, not from shock as a mortal might but rather a call to chaos that seethed in her blood. Yes, she could "help" the mare. Warm, fresh blood to get that disgusting taste out of her mouth. Bury everything, run away. It was her nature, after all. She was of Discord, not Harmony. Vinyl swallowed hard, forcing the beastlike tendencies back, and bit down on her tongue as she focused on one simple question that she should have asked as soon as she stepped into the concert hall. What was her roommate doing here?


* * *



That expression was on the mare on the screen's face for quite some time, for the projector stalled at that precise frame. Vinyl groaned loudly. "Well… that's a sign if I ever got one. Thanks a bunch, Celestia."

The cellist next to her raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Octy… look, the reason I showed you this is because I've never been completely honest with you about the reason I saved your life that night." The vampire began. "I was going to leave you there, even after I knew it was you. I was going to let you die so I could keep laughing and living how I thought I wanted to live." She shuffled her front hooves together nervously, unsure how her partner would react. "But I couldn't. You were the only friend I had."

Octavia breathed in slowly. "DJ-P0N3 had-"

"Yeah. She did have all the friends she wanted. I couldn't be DJ-P0N3 all the time, I had to be Vinyl Scratch. Even when I was DJ-P0N3, all those friends didn't care about me. They cared about the persona, or what I could do for them. You were the only one who cared about me, because I had to keep everypony else away or they'd find out what I was." She smirked. "An undying monster." The smirk fell away. "But... I would'a died. If I'd stood by and let you go just because I wanted to keep some secrets, I'd have..." Vinyl bit her lip. It would have been cute, save for the rather noticeable fangs the act revealed.

"Acted in an immoral and irresponsible manner superseding even your own lax standards, and jeopardized what you try to pass off as principles?" Octavia supplied helpfully with a twitch of her tail. She should not have enjoyed that nearly so much, but it had been her life in the balance all those months ago.

"Yuh... yeah. That would... well, it'd drag me down the same path as all the rest of those creatures. I'd have been able to go on, keep living two lives, but what would be the point? I... Octy, the reason I was your roommate was because you put up with me. You were the only friend who liked Vinyl Scratch, not DJ-P0N3."

"'Liked' might be a bit strong." The grey mare said quickly, avoiding the vampire's gaze. Vinyl actually being serious about something made her nervous. "I knew you always... well, usually at least, meant well. I knew there was something strange about you, but... well, you could be..."

The pale mare leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "Octy?"

Her partner blushed. "As much as I hate to admit it, you were always there for me when I really needed somepony. You were a terror, but whenever I was truly depressed and thought I would never amount to anything, I had you as a reminder." A grin crossed the mare's face. "You always were there to make me smile when I was out of sorts."

"R-really?" The vampire felt a lump form in her throat as blood rushed from her reserves into her epidermis. "Wow. I thought you just put up with me because I was always good for the rent, plus damages."

"No, Vinyl. It was because I knew, no matter how bleak things might seem, there was proof that anypony could make something of herself with nothing more than hard work."

The pale mare ran a hoof through her electric-blue mane and adopted a cocky smile. "Yeah, I know I'm pretty awes-"

"Just imagine what a mare with actual musical talent could accomplish, Octavia!" Her partner continued, flopping onto her back and pointing up at the ceiling with a hoof. "I would repeat that to myself over, and over, and over! Why, if a mare like Vinyl could toss money about as though it were dirt, the sky was my limit!" A grin to rival her partner's best worked its way across her face. "Oh, stop with the hurt expression. I told you, it does not work on me."

Vinyl did not stop. She had bared her soul, and though it had been a well deserved jab it still throbbed.

"Listen, you really were there for me when I needed it. You remember that time with the music store, when I felt like good deeds never failed to go unpunished?"

"Uhh... You mean the time I burned down-" The withering glare from her partner answered that question. Vinyl Scratch spun through her memories, youth making it easier for her than others of her kind. "Ehrm... Oh. Ohhh!" Only one memory truly fit the bill, a moment neither of them could forget. "You mean with the music book?" 

Octavia nodded. "Quite. That event was early on in our sharing of the cost for a Manehattan residence, but it colored our relationship. I think... well, I think it solidified our friendship." The cellist sat back upright. "I have never forgotten how you put a smile on my face that day."

"See? That's what I'm talking about, Octy. Even when you got nothin', you still try to give." She hugged the grey mare. "That's what I was trying to say before. If I just let you die, I wouldn't have anypony who cared about Vinyl. Just DJ-P0N3. You didn't want anything, you tried to give. Doin' stuff, or music, or even just being there."

Her blush now crimson, Octavia tried to push the vampire away. "V-Vinyl, that is quite kind, but I think you are looking back with rose-colored glasses. I was always quite... well, grumpy, whenever you needed me."

"Eh?" Their eyes met over the purple shades. "Octy, you're always uptight. How was I supposed to tell a difference?"

A long sigh escaped the grey mare.

Vinyl hugged her tight once more, then let go. "Breakin' it down, if I let you die, it would have been different than some random bystander who was dead anyway if I hadn't shown up. I know life's precious and all, but right then I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking that you were my only real friend." She pulled off her glasses, the movie screen still frozen on one wall of the room. Now came the hard part. "In the end, I was selfish. I needed you as a friend, and it was that greed rather than any guilt that convinced me to save you." Lowering herself to the floor, she looked up at her partner with sorrowful eyes that held the silent screams of a thousand souls within their swirling crimson currents. "I... thought you should know. Lately, well, we've both gotten quite a few lessons in being honest... so I wanted to get that off my back. You're one of the most generous ponies I know, and I treated your life like it was a record on a table. I thought if I just spun things back a little bit, I could keep hearing that part of the song I loved, but that's wrong, and... and... and that's why I set up the movie and everything, because I'm sorry." Vinyl was completely flat on the floor now, hat pushed back off her head and a single tear forming in one eye.

"So... you are apologizing for not letting me die?" Octavia ran a hoof through her black mane in embarrassment.

"No-"

"Then are you sorry for impaling me?"

"Not exact-"

Octavia tapped a hoof on the floor. "Then are you saying that you are sorry for saving me just because you wanted a friend, without thought for my opinions on the matter?"

The vampire nodded. Her partner sighed.

"You already did, remember? Just after I woke up?"

The pale mare shook her head. "I just came to my senses and realized that I couldn't force you to be my friend. I never said sorry... and you really deserve an apology for me taking you for granted, Octy, since I do it all the time."

The cellist was silent for a moment, then broke down laughing in as dignified a manner as possible. Even the sight of her own body on the screen behind her, so close to death that it still chilled her to think of it, could not stop the fitful giggles. At length, she regained her composure and laid down to match eyes with the confused vampire. "You know I am guilty of the same thing, Vinyl Scratch. That is what true friends are able to do, I think. They poke and prod within the boundaries of kindness, but never with the intent of truly harming one another." She reached out and took the mare's red hat, settling it just above her horn. "And you feel bad, because you feel you stepped too far. Is that about right?"

The vampire nodded. "I was bein' selfish..."

"No. Vinyl, you cared about me, so you gave me life when I had nothing. To you it may have been a joke, a selfish gamble to preserve the way you wanted your life to go. To me it was a kindness that I did not deserve, for I had failed, and though I did not realize it at the time it was a reason to smile that I sorely needed. You do not understand how a small gift at the right time can change the world."

"Nah, but you do, Octy." The tear in her eye shimmered in the dim light. Vinyl was not given to subtle emotion. Her body had to emulate many responses that came naturally to mares, and so her moods fell within a quadratic scale of averages and extremes. Actually holding herself in reserve let her mind's true emotions show, rather than her undying body's response to various stimuli. "And if I let that die... well, I'd have killed something inside me so I could keep everypony away. If I did that, Vinyl Scratch would run out of reasons to stick around soon enough, and I'd either fall into torpor or fade into that grey discordant morality where anything could be justified if it made me smile."

"It would do more than just hurt your mental stability, if I understand you." The cellist said in a soft tone. "A musician without passion cannot compare to one who devotes her existence to her art."

Vinyl nodded. "Yeah. I'd be a sellout, and that would kill DJ-P0N3 deader than disco." Her ears flopped down. Contemplating what could have been threatened to draw her into an angst-ridden spiral. Many of her kind fell to such thoughts.

Few of her kind had mortals who actually cared about them. "Oh. Then you will not be needing that garish mirror-ball you left-"

The vampire's eyes bulged. "I said deader than disco! Keep your refined hooves off my gear chamber!"

With a smirk of her own, Octavia reminded her partner, "That's actually my undercroft."

"Hooves! Off!" Vinyl poked her friend in the shoulder and started to grin. They both broke out laughing after a few seconds, and wound up sitting close together after a moment of mirth. Still, something bothered the vampire. "Octavia... can you forgive me?"

"Oh, Vinyl." Her partner sighed, tapping the pale mare's dense head. "I already have. Long ago."

A goofy grin spread across her face. "You got no idea how good that feels."

"I suppose I could." She quietly chided. "I have far more practice in apologies."

"Awww. I forgive you too, Octy. For... stuff." The vampire's eyes rolled back in her head as she thought. "Yeah. Stuff!" 

They broke out laughing again.

Vinyl was the first to recover. "Do you want to skip the rest of the film?"

Octavia shrugged. "May as well see it through to the end. The hard part is over, after all. Besides, if we stop now, I am still dying on the stage." She smirked. "Hardly the image I want in my mind next time I put bow to cello before an audience... a real audience, that is." Her voice trailed off mournfully, and her eyes turned to the doors behind them for a moment. She finished silently, "Whenever that day comes."

"Hey-hey!" Vinyl quickly gave the projector a magical smack. "C'mon, you ancient-" It sputtered reluctantly into motion again.


* * *



"Octy, it's okay. I'm gonna fix this." The vampire began, a broad smile showing off her fangs. Sometimes running on automatic got her into trouble, and on occasions she fell into a trap. Then her brain woke up and provided a magical solution to fix everything. It always worked, especially when the cameras were on her. She preferred not to listen to her brain until she really needed to, because it was always nudging her about something not being quite right. Vinyl ran from her mind, ran from that realization that she was not happy, and tried to fool herself with moments of pleasure. Deep down, she hated cutting herself into little bits of personality just to survive, but saw no other way to live. Besides, it had never turned out badly for her before.

This time was special. Vinyl Scratch cut down horrible monsters because it was fun. The only problem that slowed her was keeping up the masquerade when one of her victims ran through a crowd of mortals. Her nature was to take life, not preserve it. She sucked out souls and tamed her thirst with blood. Now, the closest thing she had to a best friend was lying on the floor with a hole straight through her trunk. That could not be solved by a little cunning or a lot of lead. The pale mare glanced down toward Octavia's body, still unmoving. No ambulance in all Equestria could save her.

"I'm gonna fix this." The words were quieter this time. Silence pressed in around them. The room's collapsed ceiling retained just enough sonic enchantment to muffle that trademark Manehattan bustle, but the fallen rocks quickly swallowed up any echo. The Concertorium, though on a prestigious avenue, was secluded enough that any first responders would be a while yet. Vinyl would be able to watch the earth pony die alone. Her lives had spiraled from her grasp into a horrible mess. She was completely removed from control for the first time since she could remember. DJ-P0N3 dominated all clubs, even as a mere guest. When on the hunt, the only challenge was how long it took the vampire to snuff out the monsters that crossed her path. Even at home, the little apartment that she and the mauled cellist shared, Vinyl was always in control. She just let Octavia think otherwise and boss her around. Because.

Without words, the pale mare knelt closer to the earth pony. This was why she needed to have more power, more control. Oh, that was you, Octy? Sorry, lemme zap you back to life. How? Because I'm Vinyl Scratch, babe! Power. If she had enough, all these problems would go away. A hissing breath rose through the silence. Octavia was still alive, somehow. Her eyes were unfocused, and her body was limp against the floor. Vinyl pressed her front hooves to her face again, and felt the warm blood on her left fetlock as it dribbled down her cheek. No, the problem was not power, but control. Not control over the world, but control over herself. Her mind wound slowly back through other nights, other battles. A small voice, the same one that had begged her to pay more attention when she entered the Concertorium, asked how many other ponies had died as collateral damage. Many were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The vampire hissed in pain as a thought wormed its way into her consciousness. How many could you have saved?

Was this payback? All those others had meant something to somepony else. What was more important, their lives or her feeling a little more awesome? She couldn't even remember what most of them looked like, they had just been details to a bigger story. Like wallpaper or flowers in a garden, just a living backdrop for her campaign of carnage. Each one of them was probably Octavia to somepony. Some, nearly all, had been beyond help. The things she fought were wretched, and mostly viewed mortals as grass. You nibble it, and more grows back. Vinyl was a clever mare, and her mind was sharp. That was why she ran from contemplation so much. Her mind did not guilt her with those she could not have saved, but rather staked the pale mare right in the heart with memories of the ones who might have been given a second chance at life. To say she had a conscience would be too kind. Her mind was far more merciless, for it wielded the principles that the vampire had been raised with. It did not nag, undercutting its message with useless angst about understanding this sooner, but used its most potent tool. A void. Between each memory was a gap, a dropping of the bass if one thought of it in musical terms, in which the mare could form her own conclusions about her behavior. It was her choices that had led her down this road, and as the memories pulsed faster through her mind the pause after each bass wub grew shorter and shorter. This was the song of her life, and it would end on this stage with the death of her roommate. Panic gripped the pale mare.

Vinyl fell upon the cellist, grabbing her by the shoulders and blubbering "Octy, please don't die! Y-you can't, I don't want you to!" The begging was not very effective at healing the earth pony. She was still gored, and losing blood. The scent tickled the vampire's nose, and her muzzle was already so close to those pulsing arteries, struggling to push what life-giving vitae remained through Octavia's neck. Her heart was not truly all over Vinyl's fetlock, just one of her lungs. It would be a mercy to drain her now, after all what else did she have to offer her "friend", save a quicker death? Vinyl swallowed hard, arching her body away from the cellist until the urge passed as quickly as it had come. It left behind a grain of truth. Death was all her vampirism let her offer the grey mare. The taint came in many strains, for its original sire was Discord himself. In the last desperate days of his dominion, he had twisted the bodies of many mares and stallions. They remained long after Celestia and Luna, the Sisters Astral, sealed him away in stone at the turning point of the Great Crusade. Some of these fallen ponies remained loyal to the ideal of Harmony. They resisted the corrupting influence of Discord either on their own strength, or because they were burdened with knowledge. They held true to principles, and thought of loved ones who could not be betrayed. Almost every resistor had a different reason. Vinyl knew nothing of those times, or those reasons, for she had never experienced that moment of choosing to be a monster or a mare.

Long ago, one earth pony had resisted because of the life inside her. Love for that child, as ridiculous as it might be to contemplate, gave her the strength to defy the deceit wound into her mind by Discord. For over a thousand years she had carried that unborn foal inside her, still barely more than a little marble of cells, through trials and torpor. Finally, she found a way to give her daughter what Discord had stolen. Vinyl Scratch was not born, but coalesced. She had never known existence as a mortal, and had nothing to hold her back from becoming a monster. Nothing to give her perspective on the value of life, save her parents. No matter how many times a lesson is taught, sometimes it has to be learned firsthoof.

The pale mare had just made that decision. She had killed Octavia. She was a monster. Her masks melted together, all walls now breached. The DJ wanted to live like a common Equestrian, to have friends and enjoy life in a body that would never tire of parties. The taint of Discord clamored for chaos and blood. Somewhere beneath them, Vinyl was crying over the body of her roommate, her perfect little portrait of life now in shambles. It was too much for her to bear, and for the first time in a long time her mind and body were aligned in emotion. Trembling on the outside and screaming on the inside, Vinyl Scratch felt herself hanging over an abyss. She could not face herself, or her parents, after what she had done. When the earth pony's heart stopped, the vampire would fall. The taint hissed in joy, finally it would have its champion! With her power, especially all the power she had just gained from the pathetic pegasus, she would be able to wreak untold chaos on the world. It was her fate, her destiny. She could not face the world, so the vampire would destroy it, that she might never have to face herself.

No. That was not what Vinyl wanted. She wanted her friend back, she wanted a night of fun, and she wanted to go home afterward and feel alright. Finally, the pale monster realized where her thinking was wrong. Everything was always about her, her having a friend, her having fun, and her having a home. Octavia's eyes were dull, her body limp on the stage, and her coat marred from a doomed struggle. Vinyl did not even know what she was doing here. What had the earth pony wanted from this night? Certainly not death. She had nothing, absolutely nothing, but she was still teaching the vampire a lesson. Surely she had no idea of what was passing through her roommate's mind, but that was Octy's way. Always giving, even though she never really had that much. Vinyl leaned her muzzle close to the grey mare's ear, a tear working down the blood on one side of her face.

"I... I can't fix this. I'm sorry, Octavia." Vinyl sobbed. She hugged her friend close. "I can't fix you. But I'll never forget you. A lil' piece 'll always be inside me." She hiccuped. "An' that's kinda like livn' forever, isn't it?"

The earth pony was silent, safe for her labored breathing. It was slow now, the breaths very shallow, and a thin resin of blood coated her lips. A sprinkle more was thrown out with each breath.

The vampire sniffled. "That's it, isn't it? I always was thinkin' too much about myself. I never thought about you, or anypony else who got in the way. I'm so sorry, Octy." She desperately wanted to take it all back, but her actions had harsh consequences. Vinyl had let herself live out of control, and this was the price. It would break her. Inside she felt the discordant echo. Now you are a monster, a real one, it hummed in crazy-backward tones, it is time to begin! Time to sow chaos in Discord's name, to weaken the False Princess, and to send Equestria spinning back into madness. It will begin with chocolate rain and buffalo ballet. It shall end in everlasting horrors of a cosmic kind, and this time no savior-sisters will rise to defeat their rightful dominator!

"Please, Octy." Vinyl whispered. "I need you." She bit her lip. The blood smelled good, really good. Octy sometimes cut herself while making dinner. Resisting that was nothing, if a vampire got that excited over a few drops of blood she had no business being around mortals. No, this was like the time Octavia had gotten a nasty slash up her left foreleg and the vampire had to rush her to the hospital. The pale mare shut her eyes. She had snuck into the blood bank while her roommate was in the ER and left a sack of bits in place of a cooler full of bags. Once she got a taste of somepony, she never forgot how their blood warmed her tongue. That was why Vinyl had never let herself even consider her roommate as a potential donor. Now, half of her demanded that she give in, and the other half had no rebuttal, just a mush of morals that told her somehow it would be wrong. Mush was useless. Desperately, the mare dug through the mush until she found a little bead of hope. She could fight with the memory of Octavia, and live in defiance of her fate. Her mother had done much the same thing when she was turned by Discord, fighting for the child that had been stolen from her, until one day she won. Vinyl looked up. The stars were bright, the night sky was beautiful. She could live as long as those stars, if she was skilled enough. In her heart, she knew she was not strong enough to fight for the right cause just on a memory. Maybe a week, but after that she would break. Vinyl Scratch was at her wits' end, slumping down next to her friend on the stage and whimpering softly. "I... I need to remember you, if nothing else."



> Dancing With Myself
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The pale monster gave up. Her thoughts spun in circles, trying to find a way out. There was nothing, and so she was nothing. All that remained was the few seconds Octavia had left. After that, Vinyl could not fathom her future. She knew she was a selfish, wretched creature who could not keep herself under control. She looked up at the stars, up at the entrance to the Concertorium, and then down at her bloody fetlock. That was her choice, to be a monster.

Vinyl let out the stale air in her lungs. She really did not need it anyway. Everything was very simple now. Just how she liked it, no bothersome thoughts. It was all meaningless in the end. Entropy was the only natural state. Discord was the way of the world, not Harmony. Octavia breathed in, a slow, painful breath, and did not breathe back out. Was that the final song of the final set, then? This was the end of her friend, and the end of Vinyl Scratch. There was no reason to keep her real name, especially since her parents would... Thoughts. Too many bothersome thoughts. Especially the one that kept coming back, kept asking why she fought against evil things in the first place. Was it just to please herself, or to buck the system? No, Vinyl had stopped evil because it was right. There was an absolute standard of right and wrong, outside of herself, outside of anypony else. That was why she had fought. Her mistake here was not in fighting, but in measuring the lives of mortals by her own life. She had thought them less important because they were less powerful. Octavia was important, and she was weak. Octy was nothing, less than nothing now, but she meant something. She had a right to live that Vinyl did not have the right to take away. Just because she had the power, did not mean she had the right.

If all that was true, then Vinyl could not blame her own psychosis on her friend. The ultimate decision was in her hooves. Either she fought evil because it was right, or she fought everything because the world had not been fair to her perceptions. That choice, of monster or mare, was never one turning point. It was two roads, one wide that led to horrors her mother had told her of, and the other narrow. Octy was on the narrow one, had been at least. Maybe there would be more like Octy on it. That... that actually might be better than chaos.

But chaos was a wonderful thing! Cosmic horrors, oceans of blood, endless shiny baubles that changed to your every fancy! Power, power unending, the power to make and destroy gods! How could she turn that away?

Vinyl looked up at the stars, then turned her eyes to the full moon. A long time ago, there had been two sisters. Mom had walked with them, fought alongside them, tasted the first fruits of the harmony they carved from an uncaring world. Then, power corrupted, as it always did, and there was only one sister left to carry a burden meant for two. Chaos was a wonderful thing, but not as wonderful as having a friend who actually cared about you. She had lost that this night. Finally, Vinyl Scratch understood what she was. A sad little girl, the queen of a sad little sandbox, all alone in the world because she had driven off everyone who might have laughed with her. She could have all the chaos she wanted, but she was still alone. That was the worst feeling in the world for the DJ, to be truly alone. She knew what was right, and she had not done it.

Now she felt cold and isolated, as though she were stranded on the surface of the pale moon high above her. Vinyl bit her lip and stomped a hoof down onto the stage. All the power in the world was worthless without friends. All the chaos in the world was white noise without somepony to enjoy it with. She fought monsters because it was the right thing to do, not because it made her feel good, and so she would have to carry on. Tonight had been a mistake, a horrible mistake that had been a long time coming. She had pushed away her conscience, dulled her mind, and finally her willful ignorance had bitten her where it hurt the most. A little flicker of joy sparked in her heart, for at least she knew the narrow path was hers. It was a very little flicker, though. The blood on her fetlock was still fresh.

"So, that's it then." The pale mare whispered to herself. A weight lifted from her heart. She had accepted the inevitable, and committed herself to never giving up control like that again. Her masks had melted down, and her mind was firmly in charge of her body. All the things her mother had tried to explain with words finally made sense now that there was a warm body in front of her. She would listen to her mind now, and with that admission the taint of Discord cried out in agony. Something had died inside her this night, and something had been reborn. "Lost my best friend. Kept my soul." Vinyl closed her eyes. "Bad trade."

She felt a sense of peace, the true peace that she had searched the depths of incomprehension for, settle into her heart where that weight had been. This was what she had been raised to be, not to wander through life as little better than an animal. Still, that something which had been renewed nagged at the base of her mind. The vampire hated to lose, even though she had accepted that there was no logical way of saving her friend. Octavia was probably dead in the clinical sense. Then again, the pale mare never put too much stock in such fancy medical terms.

Despite the blood on her hooves and the body under her, she felt at peace. Vinyl reached upward, trying to touch the stars. They were so close... but so far away. When she was young, her mother had taken the little unicorn outside and shown her the stars. Told her how they changed over the centuries, how beautiful they had been when Luna had first broken Discord's control and unscrambled those beautiful lights. Then, her mother had whispered a secret.

"All the lights in the sky, dahlink, zey are ours. One day, when zhis little vourld is strong enough, und vise enough, ve vill be able to reach zem. Then... We go!"

One day. And Octy would go too. A lil' bit of her, at least. Vinyl licked at her fetlock, tasting the mare's blood mixed with the stallion's. It was a horrid mixture, the pungent vitae of the pegasus drowning out the savory flavor of the earth pony. One day, but on this night Vinyl had not been strong enough or wise enough to keep herself in check. There was nothing she could do to help her friend, the logic was clear. Logic had saved her from that wide road. Logic started small, with little axioms. Then it grew. It multiplied. It built up to irrefutable truths. It branched out into monolithic concepts that reshaped the entire world. A dangerous thought floated across the vampire's mind. Sometimes, logic and rationality could not get the job done. Her eyes flicked from the stars above to the grey mare below her. Some ponies might call this her fate, her destiny. Vinyl called it the worst mistake she had ever made. But, just because she believed that, did not mean she had to surrender to it. She glanced up to the stars again, twinkling in the night just as they had for centuries of centuries. That was where chaos came in.

Vinyl pulled herself upright, a red glow flickering behind her glasses. She hugged Octavia tight once more, feeling the mare's warm body against her cold vampiric flesh. Octy had not come here to die. This was not just what Vinyl Scratch wanted, this was what the earth pony wanted too. The creation of another vampire was called siring, and it took far more effort than raising a mindless zombie. However, Vinyl herself was not a true vampire. She was a wretched combination of her mother's vampirism, her genetic father's Lunar Blessing, vast power stolen from a creature from beyond the fabric of their reality, and a touch of blood from the stallion who had taught her her first word, "da-da". Coalescing her into existence had required the precise alignments of the stars and two hundred years of preparation. She had emerged from a maelstrom of chaos her mother had wrangled into submission as a newborn corpse, writhing with aethral currents. Vinyl Scratch was an undying weapon, both more and less than a true vampire. One of the costs of her manifestation was an inability to sire more like her, for there could never be another like her. If there was, the universe would explode. That's what the stallion she called her father had told her at least, and he was an excellent critic of such matters. Her mother had simply explained that the pale unicorn's blood would not raise another pony from near-death into un-death.

Vinyl did not want to sire, she wanted her friend alive and well. A mad idea finished forming in her mind, and she realized that there was nothing to lose. The vampire pressed the mare to the floor, cradled her close, and sank her fangs deep into Octavia's left carotid. What remained of the earth pony's blood began spurting into her mouth, and it was the finest ambrosia she had ever gorged upon. The pale mare's eyes rolled back in her head as her thoughts blanked in a moment of bliss, and then glowed with an eldrich light as her mind filled with pleasures no mortal could perceive. All vampires were twisted differently, the natural chaos of Discord's taint ensuring that no two were ever truly the same. Many fell into bloodlines or clans, general groupings of their powers, but mutation was the rule. All vampires hungered for blood, for it carried traces of the lifeforce they were condemned to steal. Only weak vampires could not turn a mortal pony into a bloodthirsty creature of the night

Vinyl Scratch was stronger than even her mother, one of the most antediluvian of all vampires, and only sought blood as a delicacy. Octy was the one pony that she had never let herself taste. She was perfect vampire-bait, refined, fit, highly educated, a "juicebag with a pedigree". To Vinyl, this blood was the one pleasure she had denied herself, and it was delicious. She did not need it to survive like others of her kind, because it was too weak to sustain her. The blood of any creature, mortal or vampire, was just a conduit. Vinyl Scratch subsisted on savory souls, ripping them from their owners through the crimson current that flowed in their veins. She needed souls, but she wanted blood. To devour a soul meant to rip away the bonds connecting it to a body, and use them to lash her own parody of life to her corporeal form. The true essence of the individual lost its anchor to the physical world, and passed on to wherever such essences went. Now, she was drinking Octavia's blood, and could feel her soul. It was weak, ready to pass on. Logic said there was nothing that could be done, except to dine.

Who the hay did logic think she was? Kick logic out. Make the impossible possible! Vinyl felt Octavia's soul draw closer to the maw of her mind. She closed her eyes and let the connection between them solidify as the blood oozed down her throat. Things invisible became opaque, and she growled as the natural laws of the universe tried to pull Octy's essence from her grasp. The earth pony's soul was dim, her body no longer able to anchor it firmly. The pale mare turned back to her own soul and found the ball of soul-scraps from that worthless pegasus orbiting around her crimson core. Vinyl twisted the currents of the mare's life pattern, tweaking her cosmic state like it was a particularly unlucky album on her turntable. The earth pony's brainwaves morphed into impossible curves, and her pulse began to hammer like a bass speaker.

Every metabolic process became unanchored from one another, the cells of her body ripping and tearing at themselves in response to the vampire's meddling. The DJ was in her element, making things up as she went along. She twisted the currents again and poured in the raw lifeforce from that ball of soul-scraps, feeling them pulse like a second track underneath Octavia's own song of life. The pale mare felt her friend's body twitch. The scraps were bright, the remains of almost everypony who had come to the performance tonight, especially the musicians. She aligned their patterns, nosing up the levels until the two songs were one, with Octavia's dominant. Something deformed within the mare's life pattern, the vampire's meddling far too much for her to take without damage. Vinyl did not care. She felt the earth pony's essence flowing through her grey body again, redefining her physical state with the power given by her friend. Octavia would live. The vampire relaxed in relief as the patterns continued to combine. They flashed together, just as she had hoped, and Octavia's dim little light grew brighter as the others faded into her glow. Hope welled in the pale mare. Vinyl pressed further, tinkering with her friend's connection to her physical form in ways that should not be, jumping between dream-conjured platforms of non-euclidean dimensions upon a mad whirlwind of impossibilities that finally blanked out when she meddled with one thing-that-should-not-be too many.

Octavia coughed, and started to breathe again. Her body jerked unnaturally as the broken bone in her cannon snapped back into position, and the skin grew to cover the healing fissure. The cavity in her lung sparkled as it regenerated, healing in half a minute a wound that should have cost her the organ, and the white talons of her rib cage reached out once more to protect it. Vinyl felt more blood, wonderfully hot and so sweet, gushing into her mouth as the earth pony's veins filled again. The euphoric surge pushed her mind into overdrive, and seeded a worrying thought. Would her friend's mind would return as well, or had the vampire tarried too long? Certainly Octavia's body was healing, but was the mare she knew still there? Reluctantly, the vampire pressed her tongue over the cuts on her friend's neck and sealed them with a glow of her horn. She stood up and stumbled away, a giddy grin plastered across her muzzle from the rush of excitement amplified by the rush of stolen blood through her body. After she nearly fell off the stage, Vinyl slumped down on her rear and stared at the wiggling earth mare. Again, her mind asked what she would do if Octavia was truly dead.

The vampire's answer was simple. She would do the right thing. Whatever that happened to be was a problem for future-Vinyl.


* * *


"Pomegranate!" The earth pony sputtered as she jerked upright. Vinyl's smile widened. If Octy had been brain-damaged, she would not be using big words. The vampire coiled her legs to pounce upon the mare and wrap her up in a massive hug, but a stray thought sent her crashing face-first into the floor. Yes, she had saved Octavia. That meant Octavia knew vampires existed, and also that Vinyl was one of them. This was a very bad thing. As the grey mare twitched, the pale one panicked. Various lies, from the almost-believable to the incomprehensible, darted through her mind. None would explain away the bloodsoaked Concertorium. As the earth pony opened her eyes, the vampire decided to simply act calm. Vinyl rubbed her muzzle with a fetlock and adjusted her purple shades, then put on an innocent smile as she straightened up. Behind her, a chunk of rock fell from the ceiling.

The grey mare's eyes turned toward the noise. She looked past Vinyl, silently scanning the ruined theater, then fixed her roommate with a curious gaze. Her barrel slowly rose and fell as she continued to stare until Vinyl began to tug at the collar of her red trenchcoat. The silence threatened to deafen the DJ, and when she could finally stand it no more, she whimpered "Icecream?"

Octavia blinked, breaking the spell her soft purple eyes had cast over the unicorn.

"We... uh... did you want to go out for ice cream?" The vampire continued, gaining confidence as she spoke. "I mean... I usually do after a gig. My treat." She gave herself a mental pat on the back.

Octavia nodded, a dignified bob of the head, and sat upright on her haunches. "Yes..." She coughed, clearing out her throat and dislodging some blood from her mouth. "That sounds nice, actually."

The vampire's grin widened. Awwright, get outa here, get some icecream, sweep this whole thing under the rug. She could not think up a lie that Octavia would swallow, though she could lie to herself quite well.

"But first, I am curious about that blood on your left fetlock." The cellist smiled sweetly.

Vinyl shrugged. She had this in the bag. "Octy, you said it yourself, I had a pomegranate slushie. It got everywhere. You want one?" Behind her, another ornate decoration finally tore itself free from the wall and thudded to the floor.

The earth pony pretended not to notice. She straightened the pink bow tie around her neck again, seemingly reassured by the presence of something familiar. "I see. It is all over your chin, and all over the auditorium, and most certainly all over me."

"You know I'm a really messy eater."

Octavia rolled her eyes and nodded. "Indeed. Still... I am glad you made it tonight." She continued to watch the pale mare to the exclusion of all else in the room, and slowly brushed out her ruined mane with a hoof. "It means so much to me to know you kept your word."

That caught Vinyl off guard. "I wha?"

"Your trenchcoat. I know you always wear it when you go out, so I left your ticket in the pocket." She shrugged innocently. The vampire noticed just how small the blacks of her eyes were, and how she shivered ever so slightly even though it was a warm night. "You... you always did forget the small things."

The vampire slowly reached down into her trenchcoat and pulled out a slip of ornate paper with the Concortorium's iconography embossed around the edges. She glanced over her shoulder at the markings that remained on the walls, and realized it was a front-row ticket to tonight's performance. Vinyl looked back, and felt Octavia's lavender eyes staring into her soul again.

"My first performance with the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. I was nervous, so you promised to be here for me." A small smile spread across her muzzle. "I know you remember. The first chair cellist fell ill from food poisoning, and a kind gentlecolt recommended me as a stand-in since their second chair simply was not up to the task."

Vinyl winced. She did remember, now that Octavia mentioned it. That was why she felt drawn here, because while her body ran on autopilot, her mind had remembered her promise. Her eyes widened as she remembered something else. She was banned from most of the upper-crust Manehattan establishments, so she had told Octavia to book her ticket under the name Eighth. All this, everything that had happened tonight, was her fault.

"We were about to start. I felt so very alone, since I did not see you there." The cellist sighed quietly.

"I'm... I'm sorry." The vampire said softly. She really was. Now that her mind and body were on the same page, she could truly feel sorry for what she had caused. Another thought quietly stabbed her in the heart. If she had been here, she could have saved everyone in the concert hall. She would have been a hero. That would have been really fun.

"I halfway expected you to cause some ruckus or another... but somepony else took care of that in your stead." Octavia put her front hooves on the stage and leaned toward the pale mare. "It was fate, I think. It was fate that my dreams would be crushed. This was to be the greatest moment of my life, the greatest coup of my career. If I did well tonight, then I would be a shoo-in for a spot on the Royal Canterlot Orchestra at the next auditioning session." Her face was hopeful, and her voice held a warm note of satisfaction. Then, she sighed, her shoulders slumped, and she crumpled to the floor with her eyes still locked onto the vampire's face. "All gone, Vinyl. Everything I ever wanted, all gone. My whole life, ruined." Another shiver passed through her body. She was definitely in shock.

"Hey, you had one bad night." The pale mare said nervously. "Why don't we get outa here and-"

"Because I am dead, Vinyl."

The vampire's eyes flashed, and she leaned forward. Her mind rejected everything about that sentence. "No. No, you ain't. You're just fine, everything's fine, and we're gonna go get some ice cream and... and..." Her voice broke. She could not lie to herself any longer, not with those eyes seeing right through her. "And nothing's ever going to be the same again, is it?"

"I do not see how it could." Octavia replied quietly. "Oh, and rest assured, I am screaming on the inside. But a musician never lets panic claim her while she is on the stage, otherwise she is certainly lost."

With her front hooves wobbling, Vinyl asked "How much... how much do you remember?"

"More than I want to." The cellist replied. "I know I owe you my life."

"No you don't. I almost killed you, and-"

"Shush." The earth pony commanded, the strength in her voice surprising the vampire into silence. "I should have known from the start that tonight was too good for fate to let it stand. That is why I asked you here, Vinyl. I needed to see a familiar face in the crowd, somepony who could reassure me this was not merely a dream." A dream it indeed had been, but she had awoken into a nightmare. "I needed a friend."

"You... think I'm-" Vinyl bit her tongue. Octavia was not running away. She was not screaming, or flailing about. She was just lying there, weak as a puppy with a pink bow around her delicious neck. The vampire shut her eyes and realized how foolish she had been. Chaos always had a cost, and it was never as cheap as it seemed. The beast inside her now had a taste of Octavia, and the mare's blood was some of the sweetest she had ever sucked. Octy was just a mortal, a cellist. She could not defend herself if the beast grew hungry one night, and that would be more than enough to drive Vinyl all the way into madness. The real reason they could no longer be friends was her lack of control. She opened her crimson eyes and looked down at the mortal mare. The only way to save her was to drive her away. "No, I never really was your friend. That mare you knew was another mask. This..." A cruel smile spread across her muzzle. "This is the real me."

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "So, which one saved me just now? Because it seems they are one and the same."

Vinyl could not answer. In her heart, she did not want to lose Octy, but she could not fix herself as easily as she had healed the earth pony.

"You are the same mare I have lived with for years, Vinyl. Still a rascal, a madmare, a mistreater of discs. All that I can see changed is your dental work." The grey mare pressed a hoof to her underside, where the vampire's claw had driven through her body. "And perhaps you have a bit of dragon in you."

"N-no. Just... look, that's a story I can't tell you." She tossed her mane and flared out her trenchcoat, trying to look a little more imposing. "I'm a creature of the night." 

The cellist let out a calm chuckle. "Really? That is nothing new either. Name one time you came home early from a party, or failed to wake me shortly before the dawn."

A guilty look crossed the unicorn's face, and her imposing demeanor melted. "I... sorry, I didn't mean to... how often did I?" She looked away. "You never said anything."

"Because it was your way, Vinyl. Also, I rather prefer to start my days early, and you saved me the cost of an alarm clock. Granted, you never sounded at the same time twice, but one gets what one pays for." The cellist pressed her front hooves together on the floor and rolled her head back. Her mane was in a sorry state, but a little soap and water would cure her ills.

"It's more than all that. I'm a monster. I... I eat ponies!" Not usually, but sometimes. The important part was that Octavia see how horrible a creature she really was, and run far into the night. That was the only way, but she still could not convince herself that it was the right thing. "I drink blood. I'm a carnivore. Yeah, I like a pizza now and again, but that's just flavor. I need meat to live." It was not the flesh or blood that sustained her, she was too powerful for such meager feed, but the lifeforce that sustained the soul. Animals had some of it, though they lacked true souls. Explaining that would complicate the point, and claiming to eat souls did not have the same brutal ring as rending flesh with her fangs.

Octavia refused to be repulsed. With a calm smile, she swished the remains of her tail back and forth on the ground. "As do many predators, both great and small. As do dragons, if you believe the old mares' tales." A breath, then she continued. "As do some record company executives. You are far more merciful with your claws than they are with their contracts." That was why she had never signed one. The easy road was wide, and many were those who walked it, not knowing that at its end were the blazing gates of hades.

"No! I'm not merciful, I'm not kind, I'm a vampire, Octavia!" A snarl curled through her words. Her voice rung through the ruin before being swallowed up by the crags. Behind her glasses her eyes glowed a deadly red. Vinyl had no idea what she was doing, save that she had to scare Octavia away. The other option was preserving the masquerade by violence, rather at odds to what she had just done.

"My Roommate is a Vampire." The cellist summarized. She took a contemplative breath and slowly let it out, calming her nerves as though she were about to play her cello for an uncomfortable and judgmental crowd. Her eyes refocused, widening slightly. "Well, that's... that's something indeed. You were always a menace, Vinyl. But, a vampire..." A smile spread across her muzzle. "That's almost as bad as being a DJ."

> Eye of the Storm
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Those eyes. Those terrible, glowing, red eyes.

She had seen them before.

Octavia took a breath and let it out slowly. She felt better than she had in years. Odd, considering she had been kissing-close to corpsehood a few minutes ago. Her coat was still damp in places with fresh blood, and sticky in others where it had almost dried. Her mane and tail were torn, and her body ached from the stress of sudden regeneration. She knew she could not focus on the pains of the moment, but on the next note, the next line, the whole page. That was how she had learned endurance as a filly, as she had tried in vain to meet her mother's demands. Even perfection had not been enough, for even when her performance was perfect, she still played with hooves instead of a horn.

This moment would pass. A warm bath would restore her body. The cellist focused on that wonderful memory of soapy water against her fur, and let the feeling ease the aches in her muscles. Then she took another deep breath. Her heart pounded a little slower. The grey mare was in control of her body, not her fear. Fear had not gotten her on this stage with the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. Fear had not driven her to practice endlessly until she earned that honor. Fear was the mind-killer, and Octavia had no intention of letting it win this night. Her body was hers to control. It was the only thing she could call her own.

Her mind followed her body. She forced a calm memory into her thoughts, driving the useless terror out of her consciousness. It was easy to be scared, easy to just give in and let the fear rule her. Her mind was much harder to control than her body, and she often lost. Not tonight, though. There was too much at stake. She bit down on her tongue and concentrated, trying to find the root of the fear. It was not death, or pain, or terror of the unknown. This was a fear of loss. The cellist's eyes turned up to the posturing mare in front of her, whose purple shades had slipped down on her pale muzzle.

What was it she had said? "It's more than all that. I'm a monster."

A monster.

No, not just a monster. This was Vinyl Scratch, her roommate. The mare who hugged her after a passing carriage had splattered mud in her new cello case. The girl who had beaned a heckler with a bag of ice at an open-air concert. The friend who had promised to be here tonight, because Octavia had worried that something would go horribly wrong and she needed somepony to assure her it was not a dream.

The grey mare nibbled on her tongue again. No, certainly not a dream. She found the root of the fear. It was those crimson eyes. They told her that her roommate was different than she had ever been before, and so the two of them were no longer friends. They had shifted into two very separate categories, predator and food. Her friend had saved her, but also marked her for death.

If this was Octavia's first parlay with the paranormal, she might well have fled. The fear was well-founded, and it made a very strong argument. Her body coursed with life and energy, as though a thousand souls sung with her own, and her hooves longed to run. The only thing she had to defend against the weed of fear was a little seed of knowledge. She had seen the eyes of a true monster on this very night. The unicorn had slaughtered him just as easily as she might swish her tail to swat a fly. Before her, rambling on about some heinous act or another, was the monster Vinyl Scratch. In her mind was a far different picture of the pale mare. The cellist had to hold back a smile as she thought of the place of solace she had called into her mind to chase away her fear.

Manehattan, just past midnight. The bright lights of the city never flickered the same way twice. The view was one few ponies without wings would ever see, the highest room of the tallest tower as a playwright might say. The modern description was the penthouse floor of a skyscraper that rose high above the city that never slept. In the far distance was the Statue of Liberty, an ancient relic home to thirteen great firefly colonies. They buzzed about her in ever-changing auras of light, warning away wayward pegasi and airships. On the streets below carriages and ponies marched about like ants, carrying little sparks of light or huddling under streetlamps. It was a breathtaking panorama, but it was merely a backdrop, glimpsed through a massive window that framed a unicorn. She was snuggled into a couch with a Daring Do blanket and a crystal decanter full of some fizzing concoction.

In the memory, Octavia stood with her back to a crackling fire, practicing what she would play the next day. This was Vinyl's penthouse, where the unicorn had lived until the accident. It had become the cellist's sanctuary. She could play whatever she wanted, and nopony else would be the wiser. She could botch the whole piece, and the unicorn would not care. Up here, close enough to touch the clouds, the little earth pony was free. Free from the din of the streets, free from the demands of other musicians, free from the expectations and prejudices of others. If Vinyl wanted something from her, she would never ask. Instead the earth pony would find herself caught up in a roaring rampage of excited action, the unicorn's untamable enthusiasm driving them onward until the quest was complete, and the madmare's craving for stir-fry noodles with extra hot sauce satisfied. They were friends not because they needed anything from each other, but because both mares could relax in the other's company.

 It was not those pleasant feelings that she focused on now. Octavia's mind was organized like a songbook, even her most treasured memories were only hasty scrawls next to pieces she had played. She paged through the practices that marked the nights spent in that penthouse, searching for things to fertilize the little seed of knowledge. Sometimes, the pale mare's glasses would droop, or she would slip them off altogether. Most of the time the irises underneath were a vibrant magenta, but on some nights, when the fire burned low and the cellist felt the stresses of the day building to exhaustion, she had glimpsed that red. Once, weary from setting up a concert hall, the earth pony had gradually slumped to the floor after finishing a piece. She had snuggled her cello close, and nodded off on the plush carpet with nary a thought. This was her sanctuary, her mind felt safe here.

When she woke, she saw those red irises, half-hidden behind purple shades. The mare's eyes were a soft red that seemed to dance with the firelight, and a cute smile stretched across her muzzle. At the time, still groggy, she had only thought that Vinyl was checking on her. So, the earth pony had hugged the unicorn and muttered something kind as Vinyl helped her to one of the many bedrooms. It had never occurred to her to question why she could not feel the DJ's breath against her fur, or the beat of her heart when she curled up next to her friend with her face turned away. Not until tonight. Vinyl might well be a vampire, but if so she had always been one. The cellist had simply never noticed the signs. Perhaps she had blinded herself to suspicion, thinking only the best of her dear friend. Octavia set her teeth to avoid smirking. No, it was because there was only a fang's length of difference between Vinyl Scratch the DJ and Vinyl Scratch the Vampire. Octavia had never felt the fur on the back of her neck prickle at some subliminal danger. Vinyl's penthouse was her sanctuary. It truly was a shame that the unicorn had blown the top of that skyscraper to bits.

That was the pale mare's way, though. She was a masterpiece of destruction and creation, but she splattered paint everywhere she went. Vinyl might well thirst for blood, but there was far more to her than just that hunger. Octavia touched her neck, feeling the soft pink silk of the bow-tie, and pulled herself back to the present. The fear had shrunk a little. The cellist knew that she had a little hoofhold of control. She asked herself if she wanted to lose Vinyl as a friend. To walk away from all the horrible jokes, all the immature pranks, all the bad ideas, all the suffering... all the cups of hot coco, the heartfelt apologies, and the way the unicorn would stop at nothing to see her smile. Yes. Yes, she should run. She ran a hoof through her mane. She should run, but she would not. Even when Vinyl dragged her off into some mad escapade, the earth pony felt more at peace with the madmare than anypony else. Octavia knew precious little about the evil things that crawled the shadows, but she knew much about her friend, and the grey mare would not let go without a fight.

The earth pony felt the fear wither, competing now with the flower of knowledge she had tended. Her mind was at peace, and her body ready for what she needed to ask of it. Pity that her cello was probably in as many pieces as the Concertorium, but her voice was her instrument right now. This was not the first time that Vinyl had revealed something she never would have suspected. Octavia glanced over the unicorn's posture again. Her friend was frightened of something, and trying to act like she was not. The grey mare's fetlock rose to the pink bow about her neck again, and she realized that they would either be walking out of this together, or not at all. The cellist ran her tongue over her lips. She had a stage and an audience. It was time to perform.


* * *



Vinyl was trying to be scary. She was quite terrifying when she growled and flourished her trenchcoat, but every audience had a weak point. All the grey mare had to do was find the right song and press her advantage. Important to keep her breathing steady, focus on each one as it entered and left her body. That kept the mind from spinning out of control. She had to keep her thoughts on the matter at hoof, otherwise she would break down into a whimpering mess if she let herself begin to comprehend what had happened on this night. So, one breath in, hold it four beats, and out. Wait for Vinyl to pause, shift her eyes, or show some sign of weakness. The grey mare smiled inside, at least one ticket-holder would see a show.

Vinyl had been talking for several minutes, long enough for the cellist to pull herself together. She seemed almost afraid of silence, linking one story into another until she almost tripped over her words. "...and then I tossed 'em into a piranha tank after I was done feeding. After that, I went after his boss-"

A half-breath in, hooves flat on the floor, use the diaphragm. "Because they were bad ponies, Vinyl."

"No, because I'm a monster." She growled. "I kill because it's fun, because it makes me feel alive!" 

Perfect. A softer tone now, prop up the chin with a hoof, slant the brow a little more to show deep thought. "Then why did you save me, Vinyl? Because you were a monster, because you wanted to feel alive?"

"I..." Uncertainty was written all over her face.

"Or was it because you were sorry? Because you felt that you had done something wrong, and you wanted to be right?" The grey mare straightened her spine, careful to keep her profile small and nonthreatening. "Did you not strike down those other ponies because they were evil, and it was good to remove them from the world? Did you not kill the creature who desecrated this place because of his evil acts?" Octavia paused to let her words sink in, and because her mouth had dried out from a crawling horror in the back of her mind. Yes, the pegasus had been a brute, but she had felt the madness flowing out of Vinyl when she turned the Concertorium into a winepress. Did she really know the unicorn well enough to be sure that, deep inside, she was not the same as the monster she had killed? The cellist wrestled those thoughts down, swished a bit of spittle across her tongue, then continued. "You saved me because it was a good deed. Are you a monster, or a mare, Vinyl Scratch? What account do your actions really give of you?"

"It's not just what I do, it's what I can't stop myself from doing!" The vampire shot back quickly. "I already hurt you because I wasn't paying attention, and it'll happen again! You know what I am, and... and I know what you taste like, and I want it." She licked her lips and stepped closer to the grey mare. "You got no idea, Octy. I sucked your blood right out of your veins, and I loved every second. It's hard as nails to stop once I get my fangs in." That was a major upside to performing at clubs. A few groupies would not miss a few sips, and it was easier to pull away when the beast knew more was coming in just a minute. "You know what I am, I know what you taste like, and that means I can't be near you. I'm not your friend, and I never was." The lie burned on her tongue, but she said it anyway. The pale mare hardened her heart and pushed her glasses tight against her eyes. "All that was just a mask. I put it on to keep you safe, but that's gone now." She bit her lip. "I... I wanted a place to call home, and you were the only one who would co-sign a lease agreement after... Y'know. That's why I wore that mask."

A shiver ran down the earth pony's back. She stepped to the side, keeping an even distance between them without appearing to give ground. "Is that what you want, Vinyl? Is that why you did all those things, killed all those horrible creatures, just for blood?" She sat down and locked eyes with the vampire again. The pale mare's hoof slid back a centimeter. "Is that why you were roommates with an earth pony for all this time, why you perform at clubs, why you have an eighth note upon your flank?"

Octavia shifted her weight to her hindlegs. Her body felt full of energy, positively flooded with life. She had felt dizzy and frightened when she first woke, but it had quickly passed into an incredible sense of lucidity. She had to believe that the mare she had known all this time was greater than the monster that had hurt her. The cellist had her music on the stand, and the warm-up was complete. She paused for a beat, then began the performance proper, taking the audience back to the night when they first met. "Is that why you kept riding the late train all those years ago and talking to a nopony cellist who had no idea she was sitting next to a multimillionaire?"

"That doesn't matter, Octy." The vampire hissed. "All that's gone, because I messed up, and now... and now nothin's ever gonna be the same again. You said it yourself, and you need to get out of here before I give in." Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears. Deep inside, Vinyl wanted to hug her friend. She wanted to feel that warm grey fur without worrying about heating her own skin with stolen blood. Close contact with other ponies was a dangerous thrill for the vampire. It ran the risk of frightening them away, but it felt so good to touch somepony. It was a physical connection, just like the musical connection she made behind the turntables. Vinyl swallowed down more air, then found it hissing away. She could not speak, her mind was not done with her yet. Memories of her father cuddling her close, his warm fetlocks holding her against his suit, blotted out her vision. She shut her eyes and heard his heartbeat again. That was the rhythm she always used when she needed to imitate a pulse running through her veins. They had always joked that she had her mother's fangs and her father's heart. The pale mare hung her head.

Daddy. For a second Vinyl was terrified that she had said it aloud, but there was no air left in her lungs to speak with. His was the first blood she had ever tasted. She could still see every detail, how it ran down his fetlock and dripped into her mouth. More, more, never enough. Mother had explained that the beast could never be tamed, it could only be fought. Every night, she would have to fight it. Life was a constant battle for control. The filly had learned to curb her bloodlust slowly. Twice, she had nearly killed him for that blood. He still loved her, always and forever. Her father had always believed that she was the most wonderful thing in his life, even though he was also her greatest critic. That was why he let her feed from him. That was why he had given her the choice of ruling herself, or murdering her daddy in his sleep.

Her eyes lifted up to the mare in front of her. Vinyl Scratch wanted to tell her that somehow everything would work out, and go get some icecream. They could make it up as they went along. Atop that desire was a double scoop of fear. Her father had only survived because he was more than mortal. Mother had been dosing him with her vitae since shortly after he uncovered her sarcophagus. He could survive a thirsty filly from the lowest pit of Tartarus. Little Octavia was a warm meal with a cute bow. There was only one way to keep her safe. "Run. Run hard, run fast. Go back to the apartment, take all the bits and junk I have stashed under my bed. Disappear, Octavia, because if you don't, I'm not gonna leave enough left of you to fill a shotglass."

Octavia glanced away. The unicorn was scared, terrified of her own self. The cellist had to bite back a smile. In tonight's horror show, the vampire was more frightened than the mortal musician. She had counted herself dead as soon as that wretched pegasus had stood up from the front row and calmly ripped out the throat of the Royal Canterlot Orchestra's conductor. The grey mare was at the bottom of her grave, desperately trying to climb up while fate kept shoveling in dirt atop her head. But, for once, being an earth pony worked in her favor. She was rather good with dirt. "So, Vinyl, when did you put on that mask? Was it the first night we met by chance? Some random ride upon the late train after that?" She widened her eyes, adopting an innocent expression. "Or was it the night you clambered aboard the train reeking of cheap alcohol. The night you seemed absolutely torn apart, devastated from a show that had gone south." The vampire winced slightly and turned away. The mare bit back another smile. "The night before my audition with the Manehattan Grand Orchestra."

"Octy..." Vinyl began.

"Before that night, we were acquaintances. You tested me that night, for you knew what the morning meant for me, and so you tested me to see if I would help a friend in need even when it would cost me." Octavia let herself smile a little. "That was the night I helped you home, because I took pity on you. I knew how horrible failure felt, and your slurred words only compounded the pain in my heart. When I helped you home, it was because my conscience would not let me leave you staring out of the cabin window, reeking of the poison you claimed to have used to drown your pains."

The pale mare's mouth opened, but again she found no breath with which to speak. Octavia continued, her eyes wide and smile playful. She was still unsure why she felt so wondrous, but determined to make the most of it. At her core, she was an artist. Her upbringing had wrapped a very uncommon set of skills around that core. She had spurned the things her Father had taught her, helped by a kind attorney who managed her parents' estate after they passed. The wise old stallion had never understood why they never lauded her musical skill, and had done his best to convince her of the truth. Octavia was a musical prodigy, far beyond even what was expected of a girl with a treble clef on her flank. Her musical skill had earned her the right to stand on this stage, but now... now she was falling back on Father's training. The grey mare had carefully sighted the terrain, and set out her goal. Now, she was guiding her audience down the path she had laid.

"It was a cold rain that night, but my cello case kept most of it off our backs. You led me through a weave of side-streets, back-alleys, but I would not let you drag me through drainage conduits. Finally, we arrived at some backdoor, and you produced a key. I was terrified that I could not even find my way back to the train station. We stumbled inside, but instead of the down-hab dive I expected, there was a rather surprised security guard with a reassuringly large laspistol strapped to his flank. Once he recognized you, he rolled his eyes and unlocked the service elevator for us. You slumped against the controls before I could see which button you pressed." The grey mare coughed, her lung a little sore.

Vinyl tried to interrupt. "That night-"

"-was the night I learned that you had a penthouse only a block away from the Grand Orchestra's performance hall, closer even than the carriage stop. You let me stay there, asked me to practice, and soothed my nerves."

"Please, don't-"

"Ah!" Octavia held up a hoof. "What did I do to impress you that night, that you decided against murdering me while I slept in your guest bed?" The cellist finished coldly. She waited, gauged Vinyl's reaction, then continued. "I always thought that you faked your drunken stupor to see if I was truly a friend who cared about you, not what you could do for me. Tonight though, you claim to be a monster. And I can only think of one reason a monster would lure a naive cellist to her high-rise. So, did I entertain you that night? Was I simply too much of an innocent fool for your tastes?"

Vinyl's eyes burned. "Shaddup."

Octavia closed her mouth and swished her tail to the side.

"I kept taking the train because you were the only pony who actually cared about me, not the persona. Not the public image. Yeah, I was testing you." Vinyl bit her lip. "Ponies treat you different when they know you're rich. I thought you wouldn't, 'cause you're cool like that. And you didn't, because I was right." She smirked. "That's the reason I faked like I was drunk and asked you to help me home. An'... yeah, I knew that you were really hot about getting into that orchestra, because you kept talking about it for weeks. So, I figured, no better time than then."

"Would my blood be sweetened by my anticipation?"

"Heh, yeah." The vampire licked her lips. "Hormones, endorphins, all that good stuff. That's why I like to feed after a heavy set, the blood's all mixed up just right." She stepped closer to the grey mare. "But blood wasn't what I wanted that night. I needed to know if you'd treat me different, just like everypony else. An' you didn't. You really didn't have much, but you didn't envy me mine. So, I let you stay then, and every time you had a concert."

The cellist nodded. "You gave me a key, yes."

"Heh, yeah. And you never stole anything." She frowned. "You're no fun."

"Vinyl." She said in a quiet tone. Had to pick her words carefully here. "You have always been... what you are now, yes? You have always been a mare without compare in my eyes, but do not take that as a compliment." The pale mare would though, just because Octavia had told her not to. "You are different than I thought, yes, but that does not mean I see you any differently. Just like when we stumbled out of the elevator, down a service corridor, into your living room, and you clicked on the lights with a glow of your horn." The shock had taken her breath away. That was nothing compared to what she felt when Vinyl led her to the window and flicked the lights back off. Her first glimpse of the city from that high up had brought tears to her eyes. How could any pegasus not long to paint the vistas that were theirs by birthright? It had taken her many nights of work before she could produce a worthy musical interpretation of that beautiful sight.

The vampire shook her head and backed away. "No. No, this isn't like that at all, Octy. I needed a friend then. I wasn't planning to feed on you. I couldn't, because once I know what you taste like, I want it. I see ponies in the club, just bodies milling under the lights, and I know which ones I've bitten. Faces, names, how long ago, all that's forgotten, but the beast never forgets a taste. It wants everything you are, everything that you'll ever be, and it's always hungry." Her tongue slithered across her lips again. "It's an evil shadow that's always hanging over me, and the worst part is I love every second. I won't do the things I know I should do, and it's really easy to do the things I shouldn't."

"Not one of us is perfect, Vinyl. Not even the Princess Solar."

"Nah. But I'm one of the worst of the whole rotten bunch." She huffed out some of the stale air in her lungs. "This isn't like that night, Octy. I will kill you, and I will make you enjoy every second as I pull your life out through your neck." Vinyl hoped to the moon that her glasses were hiding the fear in her eyes. The scene played out in her mind, the vampire's imagination unbound by the savory blood rushing through her epidermis. One night she would slip into Octavia's room while she slept. Sweet Octavia, wrapped up in clean sheets with a neat little pink bow around her neck. The beast would finish what her claws had begun, and her mind had averted. Her masks were gone. She could see the red all over the sheets, hear her wretched laughter once the deed was done. Worst of all was the eyes. If she sucked out Octavia's soul, those purple eyes would always be with her. Staring quietly, composing, a constant reminder until the vampire found some way to end her own pitiful existence. The walls that had kept her safe, numb and locked away from the world had crumbled just like the Concertorium. "I know what you taste like, and I want it, and I'm nothing more than a monster." A shiver passed through her, caused by heat exchange and a nerve spasm. "I don't have a mask to hide behind anymore."

Octavia lowered her eyes and sighed, seemingly defeated. "I suppose... but, answer me this."

Part of the pale mare just wanted Octavia to vanish into the night, and another part wanted to tackle her so she could not. "Yeah, my mane's naturally this color." Vinyl laughed, the sound hollow, fake, forced, the laughter of a poser. The DJ was becoming the thing she hated most, but it was for a good cause, right?

The cellist chuckled softly. Her voice was warm, full of more life than any mortal should ever experience. "Which mask was it who would lay on the couch and beg me to read her the latest Daring Do book, since I did all the voices better than they sounded in her head?"

No sniper carved names into bullets. Despite what most ponies saw at the cinema, it was murder on accuracy. Besides, it was not the one with your name on it that you had to worry about, but the multitude addressed simply "To Whom It May Concern". A sniper was not dangerous simply because she could line up a crosshair with a target, the truly legendary ones were feared because they could take every variable into account and destroy what seemed impenetrable. A sniper was not a madmare with a gun, but a pony who had learned one of the most dangerous skills known. How to weaponize mathematics. Her father had always called execution the most beautiful of all arts, and it was execution he had taught her. It was the process of carrying out instructions to achieve an ideal result. The ripping away of every defense until death was a tautology. A sniper's work was an intimate thing, and while she did not carve a name into each bullet, Octavia certainly felt a connection each time she pulled the trigger. With her mulberry eyes still fixed on her grey front hooves, she knew that her carefully chosen words had done far more to the vampire than any bullet ever could. She heard the body crumple to the ground, and shifted her gaze.

Vinyl lay on the stage, her front hooves over her face, whimpering softly. There was no smile on Octavia's muzzle. She had wanted to be a musician, not an executioner, but her father had always told her that these skills would be infinitely valuable to her. Manipulation and Execution, not Music. What empire has Music ever crushed, or preserved? She hated to admit how right he was. The earth pony closed her eyes and breathed out slowly.

"I... I don't..." The pale mare choked out. She was sobbing, but no tears flowed from her eyes. "I don't wanna lose you, Octy. An'... an' I can't let you stay, 'cause I know what I'll end up doin' to you. I can't lose you that way either!"

"Doomed either way, aren't you?" Octavia nodded in empathy, quietly giving thanks that there truly was a Vinyl Scratch and not merely a ravenous monster. Manipulation and Execution had preserved her. No. He was wrong. Tonight had required all of her abilities, all of her talents. She had forged this fate with her own hooves, by her will. Her body, her mind, were hers. Her life was her legacy, not his. Octavia was, at her core, an artist. Not a Jäger.

Vinyl managed to continue after a moment. "If... if I know you're alive, that you're out there, that's better. If you stay, I'll... I'll..." She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, but the wound sealed as soon as she unclenched her jaw. "Please, Octy."

The cellist paused. She could run, yes. The set was over, her debit to the audience paid, but... but, no. Octavia pressed a hoof to her bow-tie, taking strength from the familiar token, and shook out her mangled mane once more. She was not done. This audience deserved an encore. So, she straightened her back and stepped closer to the vampire, close enough to rest a grey hoof on her shoulder. "No, Vinyl."

It was the wrong sheet of music. The vampire's hooves slid from her face, her eyes rolled up, and the cellist found herself staring into a crimson abyss. Then she was on her back, two white hooves around her neck and a dead weight atop her. "How far do I have to go before you believe me!"

It was the wrong sheet, but it was all she had to play. "Kill me." 

Vinyl froze, her shades halfway down her muzzle. "Wha- what?"

Octavia was not fearless. Her stomach was twisting inside her belly, and her mind was screaming inside her skull. In her heart she knew what she had to do, but her body, clinging to a need for assured survival, resisted with all its might. "Kill me, Vinyl." Her voice shook. "That is what a monster would do, is it not? You had the chance, you did not." Her mouth was dry as the rag she cleaned her cello with. Her beautiful cello, crushed under all these rocks. "So... if you are a monster, do as a monster would do."

The unicorn saw the fear in those mulberry eyes. Afraid again of herself, she stepped back. Octavia was gambling everything for the chance they might still be friends. She was willing to give up even her own life. The vampire could smell her fear, could see the terror in her eyes and taste it in the air. That fear meant the grey mare was not some cocky daredevil, she knew how likely it was that the vampire might come down upon her like a manticore and devour her weak flesh. That was too much for Vinyl Scratch to bear. If Octavia had been fearless, staring death in the face and daring it to claim her, the beast would have felt challenged. This was no challenge, it was a gift. The earth pony had given her life into a monster's claws, knowing that nothing less would convince the pale mare that she was more than a rampaging beast held back by mental walls. The gamble was that even her life might not be enough. Indeed, it was not. It had not been before, nor was it now. Those pleading eyes were though. That look of fear, that willingness to gaze up into strength beyond her imagination for the hope of reclaiming somepony she cared about. It was... it was magic. Vinyl bit her lip, and looked straight at her cameramare. Film alone could capture these moments. Mom was right. Again.

Octavia, her brain idly wondering why Vinyl was looking at that patch of air that shifted oddly, remained silent. They were on a stage, after all.  She was staring toward the audience, that fourth wall of the theater. Perhaps Vinyl was having a moment of déjà vu and wondering where her screaming fans were. It would be over a year before she understood what the unicorn was really doing.

"I... I'm not a monster." She muttered. "But I turn into one, sometimes."

The cellist lay very still. "Why?"

"'cause I have to. It's my curse."

Octavia pondered this for a moment. "Your fate, Vinyl?"

The vampire glanced back. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well," the grey mare sat upright, "after tonight, I think I can say with all my heart..." She pursed her lips as though tasting a lemon, then said with a smirk, "buck fate."

Vinyl leaned backward, then gave in. That was too much. She answered the cellist's smirk, then tackled her with a hug. "Yeah, Octy. You tell 'em, girl."

The grey mare wrapped her forelegs around her friend. They snuggled together under the stars until another piece of the ceiling fell and jarred them alert again.

The vampire was the first to speak. "Look... I don't know if I can hold back." She turned her head, pressing her cheek against the grey mare's as their eyes met. "I mean, I'll try, but I dunno if I can."

The cellist looked around the room. "And I will have to rebuild my life. I do not know if I can, but I must try. I... I really am dead, you know. Legally at least. I cannot be the only survivor of this, it would be a fate worse than death for my career as a musician." She squeezed the pale mare close once more. "It is really quite pathetic to say that you are the only pony who would truly miss me." The show was over, and so this was no longer truly a stage, it was but an elevated piece of the floor. Something broke loose inside her, and all the emotions she had dammed up flooded out. Octavia let out a polite little cough. "I believe I must scream and have a fitful moment of panic now. Would you mind terribly?"

Vinyl pulled back and tugged her headphones over her ears. "Go for it, babe!"



> When The Hammer Falls
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Had there been any glass left whole in the building, it would have certainly cracked. Octavia had a considerable pair of lungs. The vampire watched the grey mare thrash about wildly and paw at the places on her body where wounds should be. If her purple shades were not specially constructed for just such sonic extremes, the vampire might have had to pick shards out of her eyes. Octy looked like a black-maned little puppy. D'awww, look at her little pink bow, an' her raggedy mane, and that waggily tail! As her friend blubbered on the floor, a whispering chill worked up Vinyl's spine. She glanced around, then shut her eyes and listened carefully. Her hearing was excellent, but she needed more than just her ears.

The pale mare pushed her hat to one side as she tugged her headphones off, then dropped flat against the ground. It was a low rumble, far away, but getting closer. Vinyl reached back through her memories, trying to find a match. There were many ways a sound could be bent, battered, or outright broken, and the DJ knew almost all of them. Even so, it was not until Octavia collapsed into a little ball and began stroking the remains of her tail that the pale mare finally found a match for the rumbling noises. Her eyes widened, and the vampire cursed her own stupidity yet again as she darted to the earth pony's side.

"We gotta move."

The cellist stared up at her, tail tucked close under her chin, eyes wide and glassy. Vinyl had been expecting that look for some time. Octavia had finally allowed herself to comprehend everything that had happened tonight. The earth pony's lips were moving, but no sound came until the unicorn nudged her belly with her nose. Now was the worst time for Octy to go mad from the revelation.

"C'mon! This place is gonna get some rowdy visitors soon, and we need to be not-here when they show up."

The grey mare swallowed hard, eyes almost as big as albums. "M-more? More like you?"

"Nah." The vampire smirked, pride swelling. "There ain't nopony else like me. I'll tell you later, we need to go," she knelt down and pulled the mare upright. Octavia wobbled, then looped her front legs around Vinyl's neck.

"Then... like him? Are they coming to keep the masquerade, to cover all this up?" She giggled. "You made quite a mess, you know. They must have such a time with you."

The DJ shook her head and started to tug her friend over the rubble. There had to be a backstage exit, maybe a sewer line or something. The street out front would soon be filled with enough firepower to fight a small war, courtesy of one wriggling tentacle from an all-seeing and heavily armed monstrosity. "No, Octy. It's... it's not like you think. There is no secret society, only a food chain. No rules, just 'guidelines', and no sanctuary." She hissed out a breath in frustration at the silly look still plastered across the grey mare's muzzle. The irony of the situation was not lost on the DJ. Usually it was Octavia who was dragging her away from the scene of a crime. "Look. Octy, focus, look at me. We need to go. There's no vampire society, but there's a lot of societies that want creatures like me dead." She grabbed a fallen lighting canister with a glow of her horn and tossed it out of their way. "They follow certain rules about when they move, how they strike, and who they go after. They can't just whack somepony on the street... most of the time. But I bit you. That makes you a target too. We need to go."

No dice. She still had a wry grin smeared over her face, and her legs wobbled when the unicorn forced her to move. Vinyl knew Octy never touched real alcohol. This was the closest the vampire had ever seen her friend to "smashed". Shock could really do a number on the brain. The vampire bit her lip, searching for something to say that would pull the earth pony back down to the ground.

Nothing. How did Octy make this look so easy?

When she and Octavia first met, the unicorn was a successful DJ who loved to live big. The earth pony was struggling to make her way in the world with little more than a high-school diploma and an incredible talent for music. For a while, Vinyl had let her stay at her penthouse whenever there was a concert, or if one of them could think of a reasonable excuse for a sleepover. For the pale mare, it was a chance to be close to somepony who really cared about her. She wrapped herself in mystery at the clubs, ostracizing many ponies out of fear that she would lose control. It was easier for her to have one mare she could never bite than to hold herself back from the many who wished to brush shoulders with DJ-P0N3. Oddly enough, even though she never truly understood the reason behind the pale mare's social struggles, Octavia could empathize. She lacked the university parchment that was all but a requirement to play her music in the higher strata of society. Time after time, she had watched parts go to other players because they had a piece of paper that she had never been given a chance to earn. Her parents had never approved of her musical interests. Vinyl had offered to put her friend through university, but she had declined. The earth pony wanted to make her own way through life, to prove that she truly was master of her own fate. It seemed silly, but all Octavia ever confided about her past was that she had grown up without freedom, and was extremely hesitant to surrender what little she had now to anypony.

It was for the best, since not too long after Vinyl made the offer, she found herself under a sudden crushing financial burden. An accident with an experimental gadget had blown the vampire out of her high-rise's window just before the secondary explosion had taken the top off the tallest skyscraper in Manehattan. Surviving that had made her embarrassingly famous in the club scene, and drawn in massive crowds. Unfortunately, most of the money from those shows went to paying off the massive debit that usually accompanies destroying a piece of extremely expensive real estate. Furthermore, no landlord in her right mind would rent to the DJ, and it was only her parents' connections that kept her from being labeled a domestic terrorist.

The vampire pulled her friend onward, the grey mare still giggling quietly under her breath. She had shown up on Octavia's doorstep a week after the explosion. It had taken that long for her parents to smooth things over with the police. Dad had a real way with words. When words reached their limit, Mom took a far more aggressive approach. The rules for her kind were simple, stay out of the public eye and try to live in harmony. It was strange enough that she had managed to survive the fall, swinging from banner to banner before crashing into an awning, but looking at her bloodwork had sent the labcolt into gibbering fits. She was forged of eldritch energies, and it was not healthy for mortals to ponder those energies too carefully. Merely comprehending her existence could drop unprepared minds into madness. That was the cruel joke of it all. There was no need for a secret society to protect vampires from exposure. The vast majority of ponies instinctively blinded themselves to the paranormal to protect their sanity. They already lived in a world of evil sorcerers, a heroic Sun Princess, and ravenous manticores. Vampires were a step too far, and those creatures of Discord's taint that were not content to live in the shadows quickly found themselves immolated by the searchlights of those who dared to stare into the abyss.

All these things flashed through the vampire's mind in less time than it took to help her friend over a fallen boulder. Most of her thoughts were occupied with hoping that Octavia could cling to her sanity. Some ponies were able to handle the sudden shock, others lost their marbles and never found them again. Yet for all those who shied away from the call of the dark corners of the earth, there were a few who sought it out, thinking that the candles they carried kept them safe. Ponies had these quaint little ideas. They thought that by labeling something they could understand it. If a note is slapped on the back of a dragon reading, "harmless, poke with sticks" it is either a cruel prank or the final words of somepony about to be devoured. That urge to discover was part of the reason her parents whisked her out of the judicial system as quickly as they could. Far too many questions could be asked at a trial.

Vinyl remembered quite clearly leaving the Manehattan precinct house, her head hanging low and a spare pair of her mother's shades covering her eyes. The sun was setting, and she could see the jagged spire-tip that used to be her home in the distance. Her mother walked on her left, and her father on her right. Not until they were they out of earshot of the police did her father begin giving her an earful. He oscillated between joy at her survival, and anger at her recklessness. He dissected, corrected, lauded, and coddled. She was his little girl, always and forever. Mother was quiet, calm, staring up at the stars while her husband had carried on. A few of her servants, for there really was no other name for the retinue of hangers-on that the ancient vampire treated as a curious extension of her will, returned with icecream. They found a suitable rooftop and sat together, enjoying the sweet treat as the moon rose. Mom had a flair for the dramatic, but she knew how to make her point. Those few moments were anchored in Vinyl's memory far more strongly than her father's critique.

 They loved her. She loved them. They wanted the best for her. She had messed up. Her mother had worked on the Great Crusade's Manehattan Project. Vinyl had given that phrase an entirely new meaning.

Yes, she was in big trouble.

But she was their daughter. Everypony made mistakes. Vinyl had done wonderful things here, made much of the opportunities offered. Everything she had, she had earned. Well, perhaps there had been a little behind the scenes conniving, but can you blame an old mare for wanting the best for her daughter? Even if these new "clubs" were odd, there were plenty of flashing lights and noisy instruments. It reminded the ancient vampire of the way the Dragons celebrated a victory during the Great Crusade. Except there was almost no blood, fewer skulls, and a distinct lack of creatures nearly choking to death from trying to eat a quartz vein while headbanging. More importantly than all that, it was what her little Vinyl wanted to do. No child ever asked to be born, or even conceived for that matter. She had spent a thousand years searching for a way to give her daughter the life that was stolen, it was hers to spend as she wished. Everypony made mistakes. Blowing up a skyscraper seemed to be one that attracted a lot of unwanted attention. Curious, but the old vampire supposed that these modern ponies had grown soft. They were not used to Discordant cultists setting off antimatter bombs in their villages, or plotting a spell that would turn all the hydroponic farm's water into living fire that hungered for the flesh of innocents.

The attention needed to be bled off. They would pay off her debits, relocate her to a new city. This was only her first try, and nopony was badly hurt. Best to let it be forgotten, and start life again somewhere else, perhaps on Equestria's other coast. Why, Santa Manica was perfect for a fledgeling. There was even a nasty vampire Prince lurking in the shadows, trying to take control of that part of the country. A bit of subterfuge, and Vinyl would fit in perfectly as one of the less-harmonic bloodlines. Bah, in the old days they could have just stormed the city in the name of the Nightbringer, weapons barking. Soft, these modern ponies were, but all the more precious for it. They did not live under constant threat of death, rather it was the evil things who feared the righteous judgement of those who had claimed the world in the name of liberty! Yes, yes, she would keep her voice down, sorry dahling.

Vinyl had a different solution. She would pay back the money herself, and stay in Manehattan. The DJ had made a name for herself here. More than that, she had friends. One really good friend that she could not leave. Still, there was a problem. Nopony in her right mind would lease her an apartment. Her mother had offered an obvious solution with a wide smile. Her father mentioned that he was looking to acquire a few buildings anyway, might as well buy up some habitation towers. Vinyl had said no to both. She wanted to earn her own way, safe in the knowledge that she had her parents to lean on if she needed them. This was her life to live, and she wanted to mix the songs she had been dealt. Besides, it was only money. Vinyl knew how to make money.

That was why she went to Octavia. After reading about the horrible explosion in the newspapers, the grey mare had been overjoyed to see the unicorn alive and well. She had been half-right, but Vinyl had decided against correcting her on the 'alive' bit. Her situation was simple. The DJ needed a place to stay. Even with her monthly tithes, she would be more than able to afford the entire rent of the best suite in Octavia's building. All she needed was somepony to convince the landlady that renting to the mare who was responsible for that smoldering crater in the sky was somehow an acceptable risk. Vinyl had never seen the room Octavia lived out of before. The cellist had a sleeping bag for a bed, a half-working refrigerator, and a nonaggression pact with the Union of Soviet Spiders and Rats. It was signed by "General Secretary Charlotte XIII and Commissar Templeton".

After seeing that, Vinyl had expected her to jump at the chance. Instead, the cellist had laid out her terms. She would pay a third of the rent, since her conscience would not let her accept Vinyl's charity. More than that, she knew that it would give her leverage whenever the unicorn got out of hoof. It was still less than what she had paid for her far humbler abode. The vampire readily agreed. So, sweet Octavia, the perfect tenant that every landlady would give her eyeteeth for, hoodwinked the mare who owned the apartments. The two musicians were roomies. Somehow, they had managed to live in harmony for far longer than either had ever imagined possible.

Vinyl huffed out some of the air in her lungs and drew in a fresh breath. "Octy." She hugged the earth pony tight. "I... You've always been there for me, okay? I need you to trust me now. We gotta go." The vampire bit her lip. "I can handle what's coming. You can't. You're... you're my best friend, and I'm not gonna lose you. Not to the monster in me, or a stray las round. Okay?"

The earth pony nodded, eyes still glassy. "I do trust you, Vinyl." A wan grin crossed her face. "And... and thank you, thank you for all you have done for me this night." She leaned against the vampire, limbs still weak. "I... I cannot get those images out of my head. When he just stood up from the front row, leapt right onto the stage, I... V-Vinyl, I have seen many horrible things, but what..."

"It hurt because you felt safe here." The pale mare nodded thoughtfully. "Y'know... it wasn't getting blown out of my window that really got under my skin. It was 'cause the explosion happened in my penthouse. I felt like nothing bad could happen there, but all it took was one slip... well, okay, more than one slip, but still, I didn't expect it. That hurt worse than gettin' turned into a kinetic projectile."

Octavia whimpered softly. "And now it is all gone. Gone, gone," the grey mare sung softly, "ashes, ashes, we all fall down."

"Not you. You got back up."

"Because you helped me, Vinyl."

The vampire grinned as she pulled the earth pony atop a fallen chunk of scaffolding that had once held the Concertorium's massive curtain. She was sure that Blueblood's face was on it somewhere, but that part seemed to be buried under rubble. "Least I could do."

"Vinyl," her friend smiled, "y-you know I will always be there for you." She swallowed hard as the vampire looked around for a back exit that remained intact.  "But... what will become of us now?"

"There's ARG... there's these groups." Vinyl said quickly. "They come down hard on weird stuff. Equestria's got enough problems. Manticores, dragons... hades, I've even heard about these things called Changelings. Vampires, zombies, brainsuckers... we live in a crazy world, Octy." She waved out at the concert hall. "Stuff like this? Way too much of the wrong kind of attention." A glint of red caught her eye, behind the rubble of a scaffold that had fallen backstage. Maybe an exit? "There's one group who only thinks about crushing the problem as brutally as possible. I can feel them coming. After we're gone from here, we'll figure something out. They have rules they have to follow. Thin as those rules are, I know how to play by them."

The grey mare let out a long sigh, then chuckled. This was all so absurd, and yet she knew too well how true it was. "Spy games, Vinyl? Is that what you have been playing at all these years? Saving the world, then darting into the night before the monster police arrive?" She glanced up at the sky. "Am I an agent of intrigue now, too?"

The vampire quickly shook her head. "No. No, Octy, no way I'm letting you near this. You're a soft target, and you don't know what you're getting into."

Octavia breathed in slowly, her eyes starting to focus again as she stared at the blood on her friend's fetlock. "No, Vinyl. It is you," she weighted her words carefully, "who does not know what she has gotten into."
> Is There Something I Should Know?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The vampire cocked her head to the side. They had to go, soon. She had no idea where, but away from here, away from what was coming. "Octy..." That look in the cellist's eyes confused her. "What, you're gonna tell me you're a werewolf or something?" The unicorn snorted. "Their blood tastes different, lemme tell ya."

"No, Vinyl." Octavia breathed in very slowly. The need for panic was gone, the body had been given time to purge its fear. "I do not bark at the moon." A sly smile spread across her face. It was too wide, and made all the more unsettling by an odd twitch of her grey ears. Fear would not leave just because it was asked to. A mare could not shrug off shock by force of will alone.

"Octy?" The vampire's eyes were pleading. Red, glowing, unmistakably evil, but pleading nonetheless. "I know this is... hades, I'm surprised you're still sane right now. I promise, I'll explain everything. I'll keep you safe, but you don't wanna face the all-seeing eye."

Octavia blinked a few times in response, the eerie grin still plastered across her muzzle.

Vinyl shook her. "Stay with me, slagit! I didn't drag you back just to watch you snap!" Terror coursed through the stolen blood in her veins. Octavia was a mere mortal, a little earth pony who loved to play the cello. She would never be able to handle all this.

The cellist had indeed lost her marbles. Fortunately, she had dropped them right into the bin. The loony bin. Everything would turn out alright. She knew the garbage collector, and he would not throw her marbles away with the rubbish. Octavia cleared her throat and shivered again. Her smile shrunk back to a dignified turn of the lips, and her ears twitched a little less. She had reclaimed her focus. "I... am not a beast, Vinyl. I am just a little girl who loved her father very much."

"And I love my dad too, Octy, but we need to-"

"I have put down a few of the more rabid Lycans, though."

It was the vampire's turn to blink.

The earth pony patted her cold cheek. "For ponies who shift into oversized dogs, they have a surprisingly complex lexicon. Many of them could be savants, poets even, except for the raving lunacy." She took a breath and brushed a wayward strand of her mane back into place. "It is a sad thing to see a beautiful mind so degraded."

Vinyl's thoughts flatlined for a moment, then fluxed into a new rhythm. A grin slowly spread across her face. "Y'know, Octy? Somehow, you always know just what to say to make me look at life with a new set of glasses." She closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips. "You're a hunter."

"Vinyl... I... I am sorry if you regret helping me now." Octavia felt detached from it all, the matter of life and death almost boring in the abstract. She was focused, yet lightheaded. An overwhelming desire was welling up inside her to tell the vampire everything. Vinyl was her friend, more than that, Vinyl had always watched over her. The cellist clenched her jaw and focused through the fog in her mind. Maybe the pale mare had done more than just save her life.

"Out of all the ponies in the world, Octy, you've got the best excuse to put a slug in me." The vampire smirked as she leaned forward. "You fought that leech well enough to tick him off, that should have been a clue, but I was a little out of it. You're not an ARGUS op. You're too smart, and they blend in about as well as a gryphon on a bunny preserve." Vinyl's mind was racing. She had never asked too many questions about Octavia's schedule, since she was trying to hide a few unsavory facts about her own. 

"Vinyl, I-"

"Who trained you?" The pale mare interrupted. "And... and are you really Octavia?"

The cellist set her jaw, but could not stop the laughter that bubbled up and out. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!" She felt the stress lift from her shoulders and the fog fade from her mind. "Yes, I am me. I was not trained as a hunter of monsters." She cleared her throat. "I-"

"Hold that thought." The vampire raised a hoof and laid her head on the ground again, listening for the rumble of treads. Her eyes darted from the cellist to the stars above. She could run pretty fast.

Octy knew what Lycans were, and she looked like she needed to get something off her back. Vinyl did not feel threatened by the grey mare, only surprised. Octy did have that stone killer glare, but Vinyl never would have pegged her as a monster hunter. They needed to go, but the grey mare did not want to. A little voice in the vampire's head suggested that there might be a reason for that. Vinyl could not believe that Octy wanted them to get nailed by ARGUS, so she decided that her friend must have something really important to say.

 They would risk it. Tonight was the night the masks melted, and this rocked-out husk of a concert hall was the place. Besides, the cameras were still rolling. A touch-and-go getaway would be so much grander than simply vanishing into the night. The unicorn straightened up. "We have a few minutes. So, you're a hunter, and you're not ARGUS." Vinyl raised an eyebrow. "You didn't figure out what I was, and I never noticed you stacking melta bombs or cleaning lasrifles in your room."

The cellist shook her head. "No. I... I... was worried that you might already know, though. You tasted my blood, and I know that some of your-"  She paused, thinking quickly of how to phrase her words without offending the vampire. "My memories."

Vinyl shrugged. "Reading minds is hard. It's also lethal. Most of the time." She smiled, a feral grin, and slid closer. The pale mare still thought of her friend as a little puppy, but this puppy had claws. She had trouble deciding if that made the cellist less or more tempting. A brief vitae-fueled fantasy dashed through her mind as she blinked, two mares surrounded by the beauty of carnage. Bodies falling, monsters exploding into ash, gore splattering across the walls, and above all else sweet blood. Gushing, pulsing, pumping out of the wounded and flowing from the fallen. Curiously, it was not the abundance of blood that made the scene so exhilarating, but something else. It was a warm presence at her side, another set of eyes to share the moment with. Somepony to help her when she fell, keep her from slipping up. Vinyl twitched back to reality and wiped a sliver of drool from her mouth.

"Vinyl?" Octavia asked quietly, eyes locked on the pale mare's muzzle.

The vampire shrunk away from her friend, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment as she regained control. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Octy, but I need to know what might try an' hurt me. Who trained you well enough that you can put down a moon-crazy Lycan?"

The earth pony had been staring quite intently at Vinyl. She glanced away and rubbed the side of her neck. Seeing the drool had frightened her, but a very small part of her mind had wanted to slit her fetlock and offer herself to the vampire. Vinyl was her friend, could she not spare a little blood? It seemed the most natural thing in the world, as natural as telling her all these secrets. Octavia closed her eyes. She had always given what she could to those less fortunate than herself. She understood what it meant to go without, more than most. That was how the cellist knew there was something foreign in her mind, urging her to cater to the vampire. She had learned not to give because of guilt, but when it could actually help others. Giving just to help yourself feel better was worthless, because she could never give enough. The earth pony knew this because she had spent too many years pouring her lifeblood into a void in hope of return.

"My Father..." Octavia bit her lip. Her parents were not pleasant memories. "It was something we could do together. Mother never... never really cared for me. Father liked to hunt." She curled her lip. "He loved to kill. I was just a little filly, but I loved him so much. I would do anything for him, to hear him say he was proud of me. So... so I learned what he wished to teach. I became what he wanted me to be, just as I practiced my instrument every day in the hope that I would earn Mother's love."

Even as a filly she had been a prodigy, an incredible musical talent, but never had she been good enough to please her mother. Not even perfection, not even writing her own music at such a young age, not even placing first in every competition. She was not a unicorn, so she was a disgrace. But Father... Father loved her. As long as she proved her skill with the things he taught, Father loved her. She was his daughter, horn or no horn. His legacy. The grey mare's voice was quieter now, her shoulders slumped in submission.

"He taught me how to destroy. How to take life, both small and large. We... we all swat flies, crush roaches, shoo spiders... but he trained me to think of everything in those terms. A bird eats the spider, a manticore eats the bird, and a hunter... a hunter kills the manticore, because it is a threat to ponies." She swallowed. "But he did not teach me to kill manticores." The mare shut her eyelids tight as horrible images washed through her mind.

Vinyl's jaw was slack and her eyes wide as she leaned forward. Octy had never talked about her parents like this before. The most she had mentioned was how they had lived like they were rich but died in debt. After a second's hesitation, Vinyl reached out toward her friend with a cold hoof.

"He taught me to be a manticore." Octavia's eyes opened, and they were colder than the vampire's flesh. "To be a weapon, just like he was. A tool for somepony else to use. And I did it, do you understand?" She whimpered softly, veiling her confession under a turn of phrase. "I did... anything he asked of me. Everything he asked of me. Just so he would say that he was proud of me. Just so I could hear..." Her voice gave out, unwilling to form the words. I love you, Octavia.

"But... he's dead, right?" The pale mare could not think of anything else to say. Tact was not one of her strong suits.

The earth pony coughed, rubbing the spot on her barrel where Vinyl's claw had rammed through her. "Thank Celestia, yes." She smiled wearily. "Both of them are. But I still have his training woven into me. I do not favor close range, but I am a decent hoof with a long rifle. He made quite sure of that." He had been a sniper, one of the most deadly in the world to hear him recount the old tales of glory. "Ever since I was born, I learned his tricks of the mind and body. I am his weapon." A shiver passed down her spine.

The vampire's lip trembled, and she drew her friend into another hug. "Octy... I'm sorry."

With a bitter laugh, the cellist replied. "Vinyl, you have nothing to apologize for." She wrapped her front legs behind the mare's red trenchcoat. "It does feel good to... to talk about it."

The vampire snuggled her cheek against the cellist's.

For a moment, the cellist struggled to speak. Finally, she whispered, "anything. Anything, Vinyl. Do you understand?"

"There are some things that mares weren't meant to know, Octy." The vampire soothed. "Some stuff is best forgotten. I kinda get the feeling that you were speaking from the heart when you convinced me that we're more than our pasts." It made sense now. Octy's dad was a upscale scumbag who regimented his daughter into some kind of gun nut. Somewhere along the way she ran into a few werewolves and pumped them full of lead. Silver was better, but unlike some eldritch monsters, if you hammered enough rounds into a Lycan it would suffer critical existence failure. Score one for vampires. Well, score one for Vinyl at least. "So, did you just go nuts one night and decide to do some big game hunting on your own hook?"

Octavia laughed. "After my parents were gone... I was still his weapon. I just had my safety on until a righteous cause made me an offer I would have been a fool to refuse."

"I'm glad you didn't start with me." The vampire smirked. Octy needed to let it all out, and they still had a moment or two. The more her friend talked, the more interested Vinyl became. "Hey... uh, mind if I ask a question?" She charged onward. "You're super-dedicated. Why'd your parents treat you like tar? You're awesome!"

"I let them down. I was born wrong." A few tears ran down the earth pony's cheek. "The first of my line born without a horn." The earth pony skipped over much. Now was not the time to mention the memories of her mother standing over her with a pillow held in the glow of her horn and a terrifying absence of love in her eyes. It was her mother's blood that had spoiled her, the genes of her great-grandmother lying dormant. Even so, her father would not permit it. Unicorn or no, Octavia was his daughter. It was not her fault for being born wrong, rather it was his wife's fault for not confessing her impure genes before they wed. The grey mare swallowed. "My father trained me, taught me discipline, focus, the art of... of death."

"But you didn't go his way." Vinyl growled. "You clawed your own place in the world." A lot of things made sense now. Octy never wanted anypony to have that kind of control over her again. That was why she had to feel like she earned something before she accepted it, and why she gave so much of herself away. The vampire ran a hoof through her friend's mane and continued to growl. "They died and left you with a bunch of debits to pay off, that's all you ever told me." A few choice words echoed through the pale mare's mind, and yet again she was thankful for her own parents.

 Octavia found the low rumble oddly comforting, some newly twisted part of her mind taking solace in the vampire's rage. "Yes... my sixteenth birthday present."

Everything had been sold. The mansion, the estate, every little jeweler's bauble and stuffed owl. The kind attorney who oversaw the liquidation had offered to adopt her. They had only met a few times before her parents' death, but those few times were usually at one of her performances. He knew what a talent she was, and had always been baffled by her parents' lack of enthusiasm for her musical skill. The sale of the estate paid nearly all of her parents' debits, but left her with nothing. After thanking him for the kind offer, Octavia had asked that he instead save back her cello from the auctions. With it, she could make her own way in the world, and she desperately wanted that freedom. After so many years of stifling pomp and a depressing lack of love, the grey mare needed to feel the reward of earning something on her own merits or she would go insane. For all his kindness, the attorney could never be allowed to know what her parents had done to her. If he ever saw the hunter under her skin, he would surely commit her to an asylum out of fear for his own life.

The attorney did not abide by her wishes. Instead of her cheap instrument, she found a beautiful old cello nestled in a bright new case when she staggered into the spare bedroom of his house after the final pound of the gavel. Inside the case was her musicbook, and inside the musicbook was a note. The neat letters, formed by a hoof far more used to scribing wills and bills than kind words, had told her that she would always be welcome here, no matter how far her spirit might drive her to roam. Not until then had Octavia truly felt free. It was not the power to do whatever she wished, but an absence of subjugation. The ability to pursue things that were right, without being forced to do what was wrong.

She cleared her throat. "The best present a girl could ask for. Freedom. Everything I have of them, even that first cello they bought me, is gone. I am my own mare now. Except... except that I am still my Father's daughter, his legacy. I cannot escape that, no matter how hard I try."

The vampire snarled. Some primal corner of her mind regarded Octavia as her property, and had for quite some time. The idea that another had sown weed-seed on her field angered the predator.

"I... Vinyl, I only recently began putting those old skills to a noble use." Octavia cleared her throat again, feeling rather nervous. This was the moment she had been leading up to for quite some time, but that did not make it any easier. A part of her wanted to take the coward's path and run away, but she knew that this was the only way she could truly help her friend. "Ah... that brings me to the nub of the matter." She wiggled a bit, feeling uncomfortable, and managed to squirm out of the embrace.

Her friend regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

The cellist breathed in slowly, calming her mind. Now was not the time to choke. Her mouth was dry for a moment, then with an expenditure of willpower, she gathered herself and continued. "I am an employee of the Bon Hadescream Organization."

"Ah." The pale mare nodded, a fatalistic frown on her muzzle. Stupid little cabals and their stupid little... "Of course you are." The name rung a bell, but she could not quite place it even though she knew most of the secret societies that operated in Manehattan. Mom kept her up to date on who to duck. With a sigh, Vinyl rolled her shoulders and leaned back on her haunches. "So... how's this piece play out? Are you going to try and kill me now, Octavia?" She lifted her head and looked up at the stars. "Because... that's not going to work out for everypony." The vampire debated if it would be a better idea to tie her up with improvised materials, or just knock her out. She was leaning toward tying-up, best not to risk a concussion. After all that trouble of saving Octy, killing her was out of the question. Besides... her blood was really, really good.

"No, no, Vinyl!" The grey mare waved her forehooves in what she hoped was a nonthreatening manner. "I want to hire you!" She paused. "Well, I mean, I cannot technically hire you, but I want to extend the offer." She blushed. "I... well, actually I am unable to do that. But I am." She rolled out her tongue, trying to untwist the metaphorical knot. "Doing it, with you. That thing."

Vinyl glared at the earth pony. She tried to snarl, she really did, but somehow she broke out in a fit of giggles. It was just too much, Octavia turning pink in the cheeks over semantics. "You want me to work for a hunter's cabal?" She giggled. "Oh yeah, that interview'll go great. Gee Miss Scratch, you've got great qualifications, and a few really solid references, but I'm afraid your past history of drunken parties and catastrophic destruction puts you out of the running." The mare held a hoof up in the air. "Oh, but another of our departments would be very interested in your talents. Take a left as soon as you leave and keep walking until you reach the hatch labeled Incinerator. Just open it up and jump right in, they'll be so happy to see you!" She pushed her glasses up on her face. "Gimmie a break, Octy. I've never even heard of these gals."

The cellist sighed in relief. "Oh, thank Celestia. Perhaps they have never heard of you, either."

"Yeah, well if we don't book it, I don't think anypony will ever hear from us again." She tapped the ground. "I hear Chimera AFVs. That's ARGUS, the all-seeing eye, pretty much the biggest'n'meanest group of monster hunters out there." A shiver passed down her spine. "If you think I'm messy, you oughta see them."

Octavia nodded, a small smile crossing her muzzle. "I have." She cleared her throat. "I am an errand girl for the Bon Hadescream Organization, a courier if you will. It is not often that I have a combat assignment." The vampire opened her mouth, so Octavia quickly continued. "The Organization leases armored fighting vehicles from ARGUS, and I am quite sure that it is their treads you hear."

The vampire's eyes narrowed. "Octy, ARGUS hits like total protonic reversal. You gotta give me something to go on here." She could take a beating, but had no desire to see the earth pony at death's doormat again. Collateral damage was a good thing in the ARGUS Paranormilitary handbook, it meant that the cancer could not spread. "Besides, this group you're talking about has to be tiny. No way they're gonna run a risk on a vampire." Vinyl turned away.

The grey mare bit her lower lip. This was it, all or nothing. "Vinyl. I believe in you. I cannot accept that you are too different from the girl I have put up with for all these years." She stepped closer to the pale mare, hooves shaking a little. "I meant what I said before, I am dead. Whatever identity I had before this night has been washed away. Everything I ever worked for..." She shut her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, Vinyl felt that calm stare piercing right through her again. "I need to know what you are going to do. I need to know if you are with me."

"With you?" She looked back at her friend, and suddenly realized how few options Octavia really had. Vinyl could walk away, vanish into the night, but the grey mare was just a mortal. She had two choices. One was to run away with a vampire. The other was to go to her little cabal and hope they could help her. The pale mare glanced at the floor. "I ain't a joiner."

The cellist swallowed hard.

"But... I got into this mess tonight because it was me against the world, no friendly-fire concerns until after the fact." She huffed out a breath of stale air, not quite believing what she was doing. "Talk to me. What kind of party line does your little cabal go by?"

"We speak for the lost. Those who can never smile again, we give rest. We cheer the innocent. We act for the victims. We who have won life's lottery will answer, not in guilt but acceptance of our duty, for those too weak to cry out." The earth pony recited the mantra carefully, then added the final line. "We find profit in Harmony, and liability in Discord. If the world will be shaped only by strength, it will be shaped with ours. We are the Bon Hadescream Organization."

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. "And that little parcel of words was why you took on a vampire in hoof-to-hoof?"

"No. I did that because it was the right thing to do." Octavia swallowed. "And... and I was angry. I felt so very, very angry at him... and you." The vampire had missed the opening of the performance. "This was my night, my moment, and... and he ruined it." She blinked back a tear, then smiled. "But you saved me. I lost my head, and when I had lost everything you were there for me. To make me smile."

The vampire blushed, then pulled some blood out of circulation to repress her emotions. "Octy, be straight with me. Are you working for the good girls?"

"Yes, Vinyl. I am." The cellist nodded. A spark of joy lit in her heart. Vinyl was considering the offer! "I would not be alive if I was not." She tapped her head with a hoof. "I have a rare genetic disorder. Too much unicorn blood, and no horn. It causes odd buildups in the brain. Extremely rare indeed, normally earth ponies are able to discharge such things through the ground without even noticing. Somehow I have a dysfunction. The doctors never expected me to to live past foalhood. However, music helped soothe the parts of my brain that were affected, and I found that I could pour all the pain into my performances and feel it slip away. That discovery added a few years to their estimates." It was also the reason her parents let her perform as much as they did. 

The vampire blinked. "Octy... you're dying?" She pulled herself upright. "No, no, when I was inside your head I changed stuff. Lots of stuff. I might have-"

"I know." A small smile crossed the cellist's face. Vinyl had helped her, healed her. "The pain is gone, Vinyl. It was my first clue that you are not so bad," she winked, "for a DJ."

"Hold on. I know about earth ponies being great farmers and stuff." Both of her parents were of Earth, after all. "And Mom could do some pretty weird things now that I think about it... but what do you mean about your music?"

Octavia held out her front legs as though she were about to play her cello. "Earth ponies do not channel magic like unicorns, or disperse it like pegasi. We conduct it, hold it, and disperse it back into the world. As the magic enters us, we gather strength, and as it leaves, we perform wonders. It is a natural rhythm." She bit her lip. "But I was out of sync, born with an... an anomaly that hindered the natural flow of magic through me." Her hooves moved slowly, playing an unheard tune. "Instead it crashes against the stave and clangs against the other notes before it seeps away. I learned at a very young age that creating music helped the pain fade more quickly." She had taken rubber bands and wound them around drawers. If the pitch needed to be changed, she would pull the drawer out or push it in just enough to change the acoustics of the improvised instrument. "That... that was part of why you saw me play so much, Vinyl. I loved to play, to hear the music and know that I was the one making it, but there were many times when I did not perform for beauty, but simply to dull the ache. To practice alone helped a little, but if I had an audience, I truly felt the pain fade." She smiled down at her friend. "And you were always a kind listener."

"Octy... why didn't you ever tell me?" Vinyl swallowed.

"Because there was nothing to be done. My parents consulted the finest doctors-"

The vampire growled again. "No. They talked to the finest mortals."

Octavia smiled. Her parents had gone to the best of the best. She was her Father's legacy. "Vinyl, until tonight, I was quite certain that you too were a fine mortal."

"You still should have told me." The pale mare said quietly.

"I would have told you when I knew I only had a month left, because I knew I could convince you to help me live it well, rather than squander it on pointless treatments." Octavia smiled. "Or rather, I would have, except that it is no longer a problem. You see, I know I am working for the right side. I know it because of how they do business. I found out about the Bon Hadescream Organization when a chance meeting with an old friend ended with me blacking out and slumping into my salad. At the time, I thought I only had a quarter of a year left, more if I could find a particularly good crowd to lose myself in front of. When I woke up, I was in a rather strange place, all manner of things connected to me. My old friend turned out to be an agent of theirs."

Vinyl's eyes widened. "When-"

"Yes, I ran into her after we met on the train, after I earned my place in the Manehattan Grand Orchestra."

The vampire shifted uncomfortably. "Octy... I wouldn't have..." She swallowed. "I know, you couldn't have known, but I want you to know I wouldn't have turned you. If I could help you, fix you, sure, but I can't turn ponies into vampires. Nothin' about what I want, just... I can't. It's not possible. So you're not one now, either. You're... I dunno. I've never done anything like that before, and I only think it worked because I had a ton of life-force to work with. You're... something, but you're not a vampire. I promise."

The grey mare sighed quietly. "I... I do not think I would have accepted the offer, even if you had made it. I was looking forward to a little peace." A smile crossed her lips. "My one request of you in my will was that you find somewhere nice to bury me."

The DJ shivered. Would she really have let Octy go, even if she was ready? The vampire turned her thoughts back to the moment, thankful that she did not have to answer that question. "So... so they helped you. That's nice, but what did they want for helping you?"

"My old friend offered me a chance to extend my life, as well as steady pay, in exchange for becoming one of their support staff. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and I was more than willing to work. After a short psychological evaluation, they decided I was stable enough to handle low to moderate risk tasks, but most importantly I was discrete enough not to mention my work to others. The Bon Hadescream Corporation does prefer a modicum of secrecy."

The coin finally dropped in the pale mare's mind. "Wait... Bon Hadescream? That's that freakin' candy company?" She giggled. "You work for a candy company, Octy?"

"Quite." She brushed a black lock of hair out of her eyes. "As it turns out, the difference between little lumps of sugar and little lumps of medicine is less than one might expect. Their pharmaceutical division was able to conjure some rather unique pills that dulled the pain and kept my brain from swelling inside my skull. In exchange, I kept my mouth shut and carried packages. Simple work, but as I said, their presence here is small. Nopony thinks of the janitor until there is no one trustworthy enough to clean the toilets." It was a bit cruel when one thought about it. Her security clearance was based on her old friend's recommendation, but justified by the pills the Organization gave her. Since she needed their help, she was more trustworthy than others who might be tempted to turn traitor. The scenario could turn ugly very quickly, however they had never treated her like a criminal on a leash. The prescription was there every time, with a few extra capsules just in case. On the other hoof, it had been made very clear that if she ever betrayed the trust of her old friend, there would be no more pills, and no second chances.

"Why have a candy company as a front, though? I mean, ARGUS gets funding, but why's a megacorp like Bon Hadescream care about monsters?"

Octavia tapped her front hooves together. "A candy company exists to make ponies smile and enjoy life. Horrible abominations are... well, bad for profit margins, as I understand it. The Organization is in fact the entire reason the candy company exists. As I understand it, their pharmaceutical division chiefly produces combat stimulants and miraculous medical supplies. They have been in the business of suppressing monsters for quite some time, the rumor is that they were responsible for turning Nightmare Night from an evil feast into the trick-or-treating festival we know today." A smile crossed her face. "According to my friend, the candymaking tradition goes all the way back to producing ration bars during the Great Crusade."

Vinyl smirked. "Hey, anypony responsible for all the times I dress up like a firefighter and get free candy has a spot on my good list." Her father had always thought the costume was atrocious, but Vinyl loved the big helmet and the cool boots. Besides, she could pack around a smoke machine that looked like an oxygen tank. "Why haven't I run into them, though?"

"Probably because they are very weak here. As I understand it, Manehattan is largely dominated by other groups, particularly this... ARGUS. I mostly carried packages back and forth between branches, made deliveries, helped with logistics. There are a lot of moving parts behind every successful operation, and I was just one more until somepony noticed how I always paused to look in on the firing range." She blushed. "One thing led to another, and there I was. Riding as overwatch on a Chimera one night, then again, until it was something of a habit." It had felt good, so good, to pull the trigger and save a life. To see a crawler hanging above somepony, and to erase it from existence. To hear a cry for help over the radio, spy a pony grappling with an undead, and take its head away before it could bite. Yes, it helped her guilt, but she did not do it for guilt. She did it for the art of the shot, it was her part to play in the symphony of destruction.

"Kickin' tail out on the road, livin' by the killer's code." The vampire licked her fangs and nodded. "Well..." She glanced up at the stars. "What do I got to lose?"

The cellist swallowed. "So... are you... interested in the offer?"

"Yeah." Vinyl nodded, meeting Octavia's eyes. "But I'm really interested in how sure you are that they're the ones outside."

The grey mare placed a hoof on her neck once more. This was it. All the clouds drifted away, all the excuses were gone. She felt vitality again, strength from some strange fountainhead. Her strength now, regardless of where it had come from. She closed her eyes, took a very deep breath, then reached out toward the pale mare. "Vinyl. You hate being alone. Feeling as though the entire world is against you."

"That's because it is, Octy."

"I am not." She opened her eyes. Only a few centimeters of air separated them. "I know you are more than just your fangs. If you were not, I would not be sitting here. Please, Vinyl. You do not have to be alone against the world."

A moment passed. The vampire let the air in her lungs hiss away in frustration, then took a deep breath. "Y'know... Mom told me that. Again an' again, she told me that. But I couldn't believe her." Vinyl crossed her front legs. "I... I nearly killed him. My own dad. It was an accident, both times, but... I stopped trusting myself. And... and then I killed you." She bit her lip. "Slag... now I'm getting all sappy."

Octavia swished her tail back and forth, her front legs still extended in an offered hug. "Nopony is perfect, Vinyl. We have to learn from our mistakes. Become greater than what our pasts have tried to make of us. I know you can, but you have to accept that truth before it will do you any good."

The pale mare pushed her shades out of the way and wiped her eyes. "Aw... hades." She sniffled. "I'm... I'm a buck-motherin' vampire and I'm gettin' all weepy. Yeah, this'll look great on the reel."

Octavia raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. A year later, she would give her partner a reassuring hug. The camerapony really was doing a tremendous job.

"I know that I serve a worthy Organization, Vinyl. I have to believe they have a place for penitent souls." The cellist refrained from adding like myself. Their time must be drawing short. "Will... will you run from me, also?"

The vampire tilted back her hat and sniffled back a few tears. "Eh."

Octavia blinked. "Eh?"

"Eh!" replied the DJ with a nod of her head.

The grey mare crossed her front legs across her chest and rolled her eyes. Was Vinyl really doing this?

"Eh?" The unicorn tilted her head to the side.

"Humph." Octavia replied.

"Awww."

Octavia fought back a smile. "Vinyl, you are insufferable, do you know that?"

The unicorn smirked. "Humph."

It was all a game to that madmare. A game of posture and pose. The grey mare could not hold back the grin any longer. Always a game, always the spirit of laughter, always Vinyl Scratch.

"I dunno. It might kill Mom if she found out I actually got a real job." She scratched her chin. "But... eh, why not. I'll hang with your crew, see how things shake out. No promises, though."

Octavia let out a long sigh of relief.

"Oh," the pale mare leaned forward and hugged her, "one other thing. If I kidnap you in the middle of the night and set off for parts unknown, it's because I decided the answer was nah, but I didn't want to leave you behind." She felt the grey mare's warm fur against her cool skin and smiled. "I'm figuring that I'll be Batmare and you'll-"

"Vinyl."

A pause.

"Yeah?"

The earth pony sighed, then wrapped her front legs around the vampire. "Promise that you'll bring my cello as well. Intact."

"You got it, babe." Vinyl let go and wiped a few tears from her eyes. "I... Octy... thanks. I'm... I'm sorry-" A grey hoof pressed against her muzzle.

"Sush. If you talk too much, I might realize how mad all of this really is." She rolled her shoulders and looked up. "It really is a beautiful night, is it not?"

"Yeah." The vampire smiled. "Now. Spill."

"My bow-tie." Octavia swallowed hard. "I am sure that it is the Bon Hadescream Organization outside because I am wearing a homing beacon. I triggered it in panic when that monster first carved into the conductor, but I am not surprised at how long it has taken them to respond. Their presence in Manehattan is small, and my beacon is only designed to be picked up by the protection detail I am assigned when carrying a sensitive package." She shrugged. "Still, better than nothing, and under the circumstances, their timing is perfect."

Vinyl was quiet for a long moment. Her head turned, she leaned forward, and Octavia felt a cold tongue lick up the side of her neck.

"If... Vinyl, please, if you do... please make it quick." She felt the other mare's head shake.

"Nah. I... I should have figured that out sooner too." The pale mare smiled. "You stalled me, didn't you? That's how you hung on, you knew the calvary was coming if you just kept sane. But you didn't want them to kill me, you wanted them-"

"To help you, Vinyl." She swallowed. "I called them to help me, to seek vengeance on him, but they are here now for you." The earth pony was wondering just how she would explain all of this to them. The cell leader knew her, he would not throw her away with the rubbish. "I have seen paranormals fight alongside their operatives before. There is even an ectoplasmic entity that one of our branches keeps as a pet." She laughed. "He is a green glob of flying goo that zips about the firehouse, and he is wretchedly hard to get out of one's mane. There has to be a place for you, Vinyl."

The vampire was quiet for another long moment.

"I am sorry I-"

 "I'm not mad." Vinyl interrupted. "You didn't sell me out. I should have been here to help you. To deal with him. You needed somepony, and I wasn't here, so you called for help. I... this is all my fault, Octy. I told you to book me that ticket as-"

"No, Vinyl." The cellist whispered. "No. It was him, and him alone."

Vinyl glanced back at the flickering red light under the rubble, then back up at the entrance to the concert hall. The Chimera AFVs were here. She could feel them outside. "Alone."

"Yes. Him alone. Not you, Vinyl."

The vampire breathed in for no other reason than to breathe, a curiously mortal action. "Yeah. Not me. I'm not alone anymore. Thanks, Octavia."
> Dead On Arrival
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The projector groaned as it reached the end of the reel. Wisps of ether hissed upward as its old bulb flickered off, and the machine-spirit sank into its powerdown state. It was a very old thing, just like the stone walls around them. Vinyl reached out with a flicker of magic, then shrugged and let the aura around her horn fade.

"I think that's it for tonight. After that scene they had what they needed." Her eyes darted toward her accomplice. "I... thanks, Octy. For watchin' this with me, and... uh..." She scratched her mane. "Thanks for getting me into all this."

Octavia had closed her eyes. "You mean the Bon Hadescream Organization?"

"Yeah. I... eh... I don't think about it a lot, but you put it all on the line for me that night. An'... that means a lot, because... you knew me better than I knew myself." The vampire licked her fangs.

"What else could I have done?"

"You could'a ran. I would have."

The cellist smiled. "No, you would not have run, Vinyl. You would have wanted to, but deep down inside, you would not have been able. If our lives were reversed, you would have done the same."

Vinyl pulled the reel of film out of the projector and loaded it back into its case. "Yeah. I... I'd have tried, but I don't think I would have pulled it off quite the way you did. You knew I'd just gutted you, and you didn't run. You're a really rare mare, Octy."

"Hmm." The earth pony felt a blush creep along her cheeks. It was such a little thing, a scrap of praise, but coming from Vinyl it meant so much. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. "I... I still do not fully understand why you showed me this. You know I forgave you long ago."

"I know. I just... I wanted to remember. Because ever since I hugged you that night... it's been one hades of a ride." The vampire rubbed her front hooves together. "And... that was our last night in Manehattan."

The grey mare nodded slowly. There was no longer a cellist named Octavia, the Organization had taken care of that. She was a ghost. Oh, they had given her a new name, a new identity, but she belonged to the Corporation now. Both of them did. She cleared her throat, "it was hard to leave."

"You can say that again," the vampire chuckled. "Still, you got to shoot zombies on the way out."

"I meant it was hard to let go of... well, I had come to think of Manehattan as home, Vinyl."

"Yeah," the DJ replied as she tucked the film tin into her red trenchcoat. "And we were burnin' down the house that night."

Octavia sighed.

"How did the news reports go... oh, yeah. Flash-mobs and gang activity, they called it a protest against affluence that turned violent." She giggled, "and ponies actually bought it!"

"The Bon Hadescream Organization would have done a much neater job of covering it up, but I suppose ARGUS did the best they could." The grey mare looked at her friend. "You do not understand, Vinyl. You have always lived in this world of predator and hunter. But... the common pony does not want to worry that there are monsters in the sewers, or phantom vapors that make you a prisoner in your own body, or even such mundane things as vampires. So when somepony gives them an explanation that lets them keep on going to work and worrying about..." she tapped her front hooves together, and felt a quiet grumble in her stomach. "About making enough to feed yourself and keep a roof over your head, it is easy to believe." 

"But why wouldn't you wanna believe in all this awesome stuff? I mean, we already have a Sun Princess, giant cosmic bears, and... frack, have you seen what some of the high-tier mages can pull off?" The unicorn grinned. "The world is crazy, Octy. Why wouldn't you want to be in on everything?"

"Because when all you want to do is play your cello and have enough for dinner... you overlook certain things." The earth pony smiled at her friend. "And you're happier inside, because you think the biggest problem in the world is making the rent."

"I guess." The vampire scratched her mane. "Anyway... I showed you this because I think... I think we're going back."

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "Back... to Manehattan?" She shook her head. "No, Vinyl. Manehattan is ARGUS territory now. They own it, lock, stock, and barrel. When we left that night, it was part of an orderly withdrawal. I do not claim to understand it all, but ARGUS wanted to police the city exclusively. We were swept up by the evacuating forces, and engaged a few hostiles while leaving the city."

Vinyl smirked, then nodded toward the door. "That ain't how I remember it, Octy."

The grey mare swallowed hard as they stood to leave. The movie had been a thing of elegance, a piece of thought and art. The cameramare had sought beauty and meaning, even when her own sanity was endangered. Vinyl had been right to send them home, and after seeing their work she was happy that they had survived that night. Her own memories were far less beautiful.

"C'mon, Octy. We ran with our tails between our legs. The only reason the Organization didn't toast you and me as soon as they pulled up outside was because they were desperate." The DJ flicked off the lights and set her hoof on the doorhandle. "What do you really remember about that night?"

Octavia saw the vampire's eyes in the darkness, glowing bright crimson even through her glasses. "We... fled in fear of our lives as the servants of the ruinous powers clawed at our heels."






Time. Time was moving too slowly. She had taken a breath far too long ago, her lungs should have been screaming in pain. The Chimera AFV was moving at a hundred kilometers an hour, but the grey mare felt like she was laying atop the back of a particularly lazy metal turtle. In her hooves was a standard issue Garand-pattern lasgun, the only thing that seemed to be right in the world. Its emitter array cleanly discharged one lasbolt with each touch of her hoof to the will-sensitive trigger rune, though its sights were slightly off to the right. Easily compensated for, she was only missing one shot in every ten. A lucky thing, for there were only two more energy cells in her saddlebag.

The grey mare squeezed the trigger again, and a pursuing pegasi's head vanished. Green pus and red blood squirted out of his body as it crashed to the ground atop a mass of shambling horrors. She felt a slight thump as the Chimera's heavy treads mashed something that had stood in their way, but those bumps had lost their novelty long ago. Octavia was facing backward, keeping the horde that chased them at bay, while the two other Chimeras in their convoy cleared the road ahead. The monsters of Manehattan were reaching out tonight, like one of those Dionaea Muscipula  her father had permitted her to garden. It was an indulgence of her mudpony traits. Such plants waited for prey to touch the sensitive hairs on their leaves, then snapped shut, trapping the prey and anything else unlucky enough to be nearby. She pulled the trigger once more, and another pegasus dropped. The real prey was in the Chimera below her, she was merely the wrong mare in the right place for the second time in an evening.

Octavia wasted no time bemoaning her lot in life. She had faced death already, and was in no mood to give it a second chance. She had clear orders, she had a gun, and she had an audience. Another gentle press, another corpse put to rest. Part of her wondered how all this would be covered up. Rogue lycans were one thing, ghosts could be busted by the Firehouse's Visible-Ops unit, but a mob of zombies chasing three Armored Fighting Vehicles down Manehattan's back roads should at the very least concern the police. She fired off the last shot in her clip, dropped the empty power cell, and slapped in another with barely a glance away from her pursuers. Those on hoof were little threat, relentless though they might be, they lacked the speed to catch up with the motorized Chimeras. The cellist felt a sense of peace. There was no fear, there was no pain, Vinyl had saved her. All that remained was the mission. She looked down the sights and lined up on a face with half its jaw rotted away.






In the compartment below the grey mare, Vinyl was staring down the softly pulsing barrel of a hoofcrafted plasma pistol. She put on a winning smile. "Hiya. Thought you trusted me."

The earth pony holding the pistol nodded. She kept the pistol leveled at the vampire, and with her other hoof drew a lollipop from inside her suit. The mint-colored unicorn sitting next to her gently peeled the wrapper off with a glow of her horn. With a nod of appreciation, the businessmare popped the lolly into her mouth and smiled at the vampire. Another muffled thump of their Chimera crushing something under its treads made her smile grow wider.

Vinyl leaned back in her seat. Above them, she heard Octy pew-pewing zombies. Why did she get all the fun? She cut her eyes to the mint unicorn, who smiled cheerfully. Still the same enigmatic, excitable harpist that Vinyl remembered from music school. They had been the best of friends, as close as Vinyl could let someone else get, until one day the mint unicorn had just vanished. No trace, no note, and the address the school had on file turned out to be a cemetery. The vampire had never really gotten over that feeling of betrayal.

Still, the harpist had vouched for her when the black-armored Operatives stormed into the crumbled Concertorium, and for Octy too. Octavia claimed that she and the harpist had performed together years ago, but drifted apart. When they met by chance again, and the mint unicorn learned of the grey mare's medical condition, she had enough pull with this Bon Hadescream megacorp to get the earth pony some pills and a job. How had her old friend gotten that kind of authority, and why was she wearing that monocle? The only way to find out had been to go with them, since they had wasted enough time stopping to respond to Octavia's beacon. However, not everypony had been enthusiastic about that idea...

The creme colored earth pony cleared her throat. She outranked the harpist, but Vinyl still did not know who she was. Only that she had been ready to zorch everything in that Concertorium until the mint unicorn talked her down, and her comms officer brought in some gizmo. She had a long pink and blue mane that framed a youthful complexion, but now Vinyl cared to look she could see fatigue lines under the mare's eyes. Her voice was calm and commanding, with just a hint of irritation. "I have been assured that your interests align with those of my Corporation."

"You helped Octavia. She's my friend." The pale mare pointed at the mint unicorn, "and she owes me some answers."

"Which are classified," the businessmare said curtly. "And though I have been assured that you are an asset, I have yet to see it for myself, and I am currently of a foul temperament. This has been a very wretched night." She was quiet for a moment, letting the flavor of the candy in her mouth calm her nerves. "I came here to salvage what I could from this city, but instead fell into a trap laid by those I thought allies." The wooden stem of the lollipop wiggled in her mouth. "Naturally, I am not very willing to trust one of your kind at the moment."

"Hold on, back up. You said you got sold out." Vinyl leaned to the side. The barrel of the plasma pistol followed her. "I know you ain't stupid enough to trust the Elderati Council, they'd drain a mortal like you as soon as look at'cha. And whoever decided you needed to die has a lot of paranormal muscle... or enough control to look the other way... Oh." The vampire smiled toothily. "You decided to sign a 'peace pact' with ARGUS, didn't you?"

The businessmare's response was a cold stare. Vinyl pulled down her glasses and glared back. To her own surprise, the vampire blinked first.

"I have watched far too many of my employees die on this night. I came to this city to save them, since we are not strong enough to hold here, but my presence has only cost more lives. The ruinous powers my Organization battles have taken full advantage of my mistake." She paused, and the lines of fatigue deepened under her eyes as she lowered the pistol ever so slightly. "But you, vampire, you are not like those mindless beasts. I know that from looking into your eyes, and upon your works. You are a creature of chaos and violence, and yet you preserved the life of one of my employees." A note of something approaching curiosity entered her voice. "You preserved her mind, not merely her flesh."

"You're welcome." The unicorn adjusted her hat. "Nice of you to stop by, seeing as tonight's already a few fuses short of a rock concert for ya."

"We never leave a pony behind or unavenged, that is why we came for her." And because the mint colored unicorn had asked as soon as their communications officer had noticed the beacon. "However, we are abandoning this city." She wiggled the wooden stem of the lollipop and kept her aim steady. "You are correct. ARGUS wishes to be the dominant shadow in this little corner of the world. Tonight was supposed to be a simple passing of keys from one hoof to another... but when I arrived I found that those I thought to be allies thought I would prove more useful as a corpse."

Vinyl leaned to the side and raised an eyebrow. "I knew ARGUS was crazy, but... that's kinda low, even for them."

"We are not oppressive enough of your kind for their tastes, nor do we hold that massive civilian casualties are good, just, and necessary." The creme-colored mare twitched up one corner of her mouth. "You know what they would have done to your friend after you... ah, helped her."

"Click-clack, bang," the DJ replied. "So, they gave you a line about peace and co-operation, you bought it, and when you drove up they started shooting at you?" She snickered. Dead on arrival, no hope in hades.

Another thump, this one larger than most, jostled the passengers. The businessmare shook her head. "No. We arrived, and the meeting place was empty. Then the living dead swarmed in, followed by their overlords, and we were forced to fight our way to extraction." She leaned back slightly, and Vinyl caught a glimpse of a few metal chains dangling from a pocket inside her suit. They looked suspiciously similar to the kind worn by soldiers to hold identification tags around their necks. The vampire sniffed, and realized that the subtle scent of blood in the air was not from those splotches on the Chimera's floor, they were long stale. No, that recently-dried smell was all over those ID tags. Vinyl glanced from side to side, and noticed how many little duffel bags were stashed in the Chimera's cargo alcoves. She looked back at the creme-colored mare. "Kinda roomy in here, isn't it?"

"Oh, this AFV was packed as tight as a jar of jellybeans when this night began." The businessmare bit down hard on the sturdy wooden shaft of her lollipop. "ARGUS sent us a communication as soon as we had escaped. They were so sorry that they could not make it to the meeting, there seems to be so much activity in the city tonight, their hooves are full just holding the line." The mint unicorn chuckled softly. With a nod of agreement, the earth pony continued. "ARGUS has never been about holding the line. They seek only power and glory. We are the Bon Hadescream Organization, and for centuries we have spoken for the lost. We find profit in Harmony, and liability in Chaos. If the world will be shaped only by strength, it will be shaped with ours."

"And yet, you're running tonight." Vinyl Scratch leaned her head to the side. "Because ARGUS is stronger than you, and they've said they ain't gonna help. In fact, they want to see you burn, because it means less competition. Still, they're stronger."

"We lease these very Chimeras from them," the businessmare confirmed, "but after tonight, that contract is terminated. R-and-D has been begging for funding anyway, claiming they can build a superior model. Mmm, that reminds me," she glanced to the front of the vehicle. "Officer Rollins?"

"Yes, m'lady!" A gryphon chirped. "One second, had to pry off the plating. Almost-" a shower of sparks flew from the driver's compartment. The mint unicorn leaned forward, putting herself completely between them and the earth pony. "Got it! One side!" The gryphon emerged from the front compartment, clad in matte black armor and wearing a bulky bundle of antennas and amplifiers like it was a backpack. He held in his talons a sparking hunk of metal, and trundled between the passengers on his way to the back hatch. With a gentle tap of a button, he opened it just enough to toss the unwanted scrap into the mob behind them. "All done, our convoy's off the grid, ma'am, er, m'lady." He smiled, then seemed to notice the vampire.

"Hiya." Vinyl wondered if he realized he had just walked in front of a plasma pistol. Would she even risk firing that thing in here? If so... this earth pony was the cool kind of crazy.

Rollins edged toward the businessmare. "Ah-"

"Thank you, Officer Rollins. Return to your post." The creme colored mare said, and waved him back to the driver's compartment. Once he was gone, she lowered her pistol a few centimeters and took a deep breath. "On this night, I have underestimated the ruthlessness of those who once called me friend, and I have paid the price in the blood of my employees. What few remain are evacuating the city, but... well, you saw outside what creatures have been coaxed up from the abyss to destroy me, with the winking approval of this city's protectors."

From the front, the communications officer yelled, "m'lady, Echo-Seven reports that they were not able to hold this evac route. Recommend diverting to-"

"Unacceptable," the creme colored mare replied. "All nearby routes are already at capacity. We cannot cram more than three AFVs onto one road." Not only would it put too many eggs in one basket, Manehattan's streets were never designed for the bulky Chimeras.

"M'lady, Echo-Seven is at thirty percent. If we delay one of the convoys on routes twelve or fourteen, we can divert to them and-"

Her head snapped toward the driver's compartment. "Tell Echo-Seven to disengage and prep for extraction. That is an order, Officer Rollins."

The gryphon nodded quickly and leaned over his console, though there was a worried look in his eyes. The businessmare looked at the mint unicorn next to her, who produced a golden watch without further prompting and held it up for both to see. With a nod, the creme colored earth pony looked back to the vampire.

"If you listen, you can hear your friend proving her worth with her marksmareship. I have no idea what you are worth, vampire, but I do know that you are a bloodthirsty creature of Chaos."

"You say the nicest things," Vinyl smiled.

"I expect little of you. I know your loyalty is not to me, but to your friend. You saw what she thought of me."

The vampire nodded. Octavia had curled up into a little grey ball and started whimpering to herself when the mare in the suit had found them. She had been expecting a regular combat team, led by a cell commander she knew.

"You respect strength, and at the moment I am able to show none. My army is in retreat, I am not particularly imposing of form, and my city is burning with an invisible flame. This night is a dark one, for it marks the beginning of one of the few eras that the Statue of Liberty will not be safeguarded by Operatives of the Bon Hadescream Organization since our founding." She breathed in slowly. "This means nothing to you, but much to us. In the eyes of my Corporation, I am a failure."

"You're desperate." The pale mare smiled again.

"I am very, very desperate." The earth pony returned the expression, and lowered her plasma pistol a centimeter further. "They think they have broken me. I am a mare who has watched my father die, and killed my own uncle in self-defense on the same day. Compared to that, what I must do now is as easy as signing a check."

"M'lady, Echo-seven cannot withdraw. They are still engaged, three hundred meters out-"

The steel frame of the Chimera rumbled as a terrible sound washed over them. "Warphound," the businessmare said in a level tone. With a sigh, the mint colored unicorn nodded, still holding up her gold watch. "Officer Rollins, order our escorts to form cover and deploy on each side of the road. Driver, adjust speed. In five seconds I want a full one-eighty, slew us to a stop behind the parked Chimeras." She leaned to the side and spoke into a communicator held in the soft glow of her assistant's aura, "Miss Octavia, brace yourself."

"What's up?" The vampire asked, a look of confusion on her face.

"We are all about to die." The businessmare smiled wide, and wiggled the wooden stem of her lollipop. "Ahead of us is an abomination from the very depths of hades, a creature forged from the unmourned souls of ancient murderers and the spite of those who called themselves mighty. It is here for me."

"Everypony hang on!" The driver yelled, and abruptly the world spun. Vinyl felt her head smack back into the cushion, and out of the corner of her eye saw what looked like thin fishing line wrap the two mares across from her into their seats. There was a wretched screech, a horrid thump against the Chimera's side, and suddenly all was quiet. Then, with barely a beat missed, the vampire heard a pew-pew from her friend's lasgun as she resumed firing.

"Your friend knows her duty, and you have seen how I honor even the least of those in my employ." The creme colored mare smacked a control with a hoof, and the back hatch of the AFV slammed down. A horrible roar tore into the metal vehicle and echoed through their souls. "I am the Lady Bon Hadescream, and that is what I fight. I do not offer you glory, or pampering, or a plea for aid. I offer you enemies, vampire. Enemies, bloodshed, and the chance to justify your existence as something more than a leech upon Celestia's blessed land. I have lost this city, but I will not lose this war. Judge me not by the strength you now see, but by the might of the enemies who seek my life." The mare pointed out the hatch, through which poured an unearthly purple light and the chatter of many lasguns firing. "If you are with me, I have only one order for you. Search. And destroy."

Vinyl stood up, and rolled her neck. "Do I get paid?"

"Only if we survive."

The pale mare licked her fangs, then looked at the mint unicorn. "You an' I got a score to settle. But for right now..." She took off her red hat and tossed it to the monocle-wearing mare. "Hold my hat and watch this."
> Back For The Attack
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia was down to her last few shots. These Chimeras were outfitted to look like heavy construction vehicles, not war machines, so a civilian could easily ignore them. This meant such luxuries as pintle-mounted heavy weapons had been stripped off. The grey mare put down a zombie at the front of the mob and watched its fall trip up two more, who were mercilessly trampled underhoof. The huge four legged creature made of pulsing lights and whirling ooze was twenty five meters behind her, but her orders had not changed. Keep the mass of living dead from overwhelming the convoy. Still, she could not help but throw a glance over her shoulder at... that. While her eyes were on its horrible form, she saw the streak of red, white, and neon blue gallop out of the hatch of the AFV.

Vinyl, for she immediately knew it could be nopony else, was cackling like a madmare. The vampire bounded past the other two Chimeras, scooped a lascannon from the hooves of a half-slagged corpse, and dropped to an odd sort of kneeling slide, putting nearly all her weight on her hindlegs as she slid underneath the dripping monstrosity. Its eight main eyes followed her, and the pulsing pink mess of its tongue shot out after the vampire, but it was too slow. Vinyl pulsed the lascannon again and again, sending white-hot shafts of light up into the creature's underbelly. Around the impacts, the ooze hardened and the monster's swirling energies seemed to fade. It was a creature of chaos, and just as exposure to raw madness would maul a mortal, so the lance of cold science shattered the spawn's corporeal manifestation. The remains of Echo-Seven, who had gone to ground behind whatever cover they could find, started to poke their heads and guns up.

"Impressive," Octavia heard from below, followed by the hissing discharge of a plasma bolt. The ball of energy sailed upward, smashed into a diving pegasus-zombie, and reduced her to a falling heap of slag. A half-second later, the grey mare saw the imposing muzzle of the Lady Bon Hadescream as she climbed atop the Chimera with a leather satchel on her back.

"Thank you, miss." The cellist said nervously, accepting the satchel and finding it full of ammunition. "I mean, ah... m'lady!" She was unused to the honorific, but knew what it meant. The Bon Hadescream Corporation was a family enterprise, passed down through the generations along with the title of Lord or Lady. Publicly, it was a token of gratitude rendered by Celestia for the Bon Hadescream family's service centuries ago. Octavia had heard from the Manehattan cell Operatives that it was far more than a stuffy old honorific. On the shoulders of the one who bore that title was the stress of managing the Corporation, and the duty of commanding the Organization.

The creme colored mare wiggled the wooden shaft of her lollipop and smiled. "As you were, sharpshooter. We need to buy your friend about ninety seconds-" She cracked off another ball of plasma into a particularly swift gang of zombies that had rushed ahead of the main mob, then held a communicator to her mouth. "Unit four, suppress the rear. Unit six, medivac Echo-seven into your Chimera and provide supporting fire to the Asset." She raised her pistol again and loosed three smaller balls into the densest part of the onrushing mob, then hissed in pain as the coolant coils on her sidearm glowed hot from the discharge. "Lambda, this is Bravo, I need that wire fie..."

Octavia took a deep breath, and the rest of the creme mare's words faded to a muddle. She felt an odd sensation rush through her body. As she pressed the trigger again and again, she realized why she felt so peaceful. Ever since she was a foal, she had learned to destroy. Her father had made a weapon, but tonight she was not glorifying his name. She was not pulling the trigger to continue his legacy, to kill the innocent and suppress the meek. This was where she belonged, fighting to preserve a just cause. No, she could never atone for her sins, but that smile from the Lady Bon Hadescream had said much. There was a place for her here, as long as she was good enough. Perhaps it was just that the throbbing pains in her skull were completely gone, but she felt a little stronger with each shot that gave some poor pony peace. As she reloaded, she caught a glimpse of her pale friend.

To touch the Warphound would be catastrophic for most mortals. Its epidermis simmered like a stew made from rotten eggs and nightmares, and its drippings smelled just as bad. Vinyl found out when part of the guts she had blasted loose fell upon her that it really, really hurt vampires too. Just as the lascannon's power brick ran dry, a steaming glob of ectoplasm slopped down too fast for her to dodge. Her left front leg melted down to the bone, and she lost her grip on the depleted heavy weapon. The vampire bit her tongue and hissed in pain as she rolled out from under the monster, then limped behind the cover of a fallen hunk from a nearby building. There she found the decapitated body of another poor Bon Hadescream Operative. After a second's thought, she leaned down to lick at the spilled blood, but though it tickled her tongue she could find little strength in it.

"Ow, ow, ow. Why can't he just use bullets?" the vampire hissed, ever so slightly regretting how much it had drained her to save Octavia's life. She heard it roar and thump toward her chunk of cover. It was hurting far worse than she, but it was still far stronger. Vinyl reached down into her reserves and lapped at the blood pooled on the ground. The beast inside her reminded the vampire of those succulent soldiers nearby. Surely they would not miss one more, and she needed more than just dead blood to fight this monster. It would be a sacrifice for the Greater Good. Vinyl sank her fangs into the corpse's neck stump and sucked, pulling scraps of life from the body along with a trickle of blood. The Warphound was almost upon her, she could feel that unnatural pressure against her fur. With an expenditure of willpower, she managed to scrounge up enough to reconstitute her leg with a sickening crunch, smack, and schlup. The vampire was whole again. A savage grin crossed her muzzle. "Okay, you mangy mutt."

She pulled out her guitar with a glow of her horn and jumped atop the rubble. The Warphound was a bare three meters away when she pushed tight her shades and yelled, "you wanna play with lil' red riding trenchcoat?"

It roared back, and opened its mouth wide to devour her. Vinyl Scratch held up her guitar and ripped out an ear-splitting solo, pouring out a wall of sound right into the monster's face. If it had been mere notes, the Warphound would have gobbled her up without a second thought, but this was not noise pollution. It was raw power, played on a Draconic-styled guitar by a mare who had a taint of chaos in her own soul. This was the magic of heavy metal, and so an invisible claw of sonic force smote her foe. The dripping beast staggered back and tried to roar in pain, but its cry was crushed. The vampire continued, her strings beginning to glow orange-hot as she cracked the corporeal bond between the ectoplasmic goo and flickering figments of lost souls. Dark cracks spread through its form, gibbering portals back into the netherrealm from which the beast had been coalesced, and a clear sign of weakness to those who knew how to look.

From atop the Chimera, the Lady Bon Hadescream looked over her shoulder at the Warphound, while still putting bolts into the mob. All of that racket from the vampire had caused her Operatives to duck for cover again. "Stand up!" she roared into her communicator, louder than the music. "Do not be afraid! You are the voice of the unavenged, the blade of the forgotten, you are the line between this city and this beast. Bring it down!"

Her command called forth a hail of lasbolts upon the writhing beast of chaos. Alone, they were the stings of an insect, but together they overwhelmed its feeble mind. It had no easy prey, only the pain of physical reality intruding into its envelope of immaterial insanity. It lashed out at the guitarist, but Vinyl easily dodged to one side. Her music had shattered its sense of balance, and so the swipe caused it to crash into the side of a building. It rocked back to its legs and butted its head against the windows where a few Operatives were firing from, only to find that the steel and cement of Celestia's little ponies was cold and unyielding. Though a clump of goo slung through a window and melted through an Operative's armor before her comrade could burn it off, the building held. The beast felt something stronger than its rage. Fear. This world was not bending to its anger, it was not crumbling as it had before!

The vampire stuck out her tongue as she lept atop an overturned carriage and hit another chord. Sparks flew from the front of her guitar, and her strings began to burn her hooves. She hissed in pain, and blew on her front legs. As the echo of her music faded, the Warphound began to regain its strength. Its eyes turned to her, but there was no offer of truce, no understanding that they were both monsters. It hated her for not letting it have its way, hated her with every eye and every little spark within its wretched form. It drew power whence it had been summoned, she had to get by on what she could scrape together from this world. The lasbolts continued to pelt it, and for a moment Vinyl considered letting the Operatives finish the fight. Then she glanced back to the parked Chimeras, where Octavia lay. Octy was doing her bit. This one was hers to deal with, even if it would burn her hooves a little.

Besides, she really hated this thing right back. The mare rolled her neck and licked her hooves. "Everypony get down!" Sparks flew from her guitar, and the ground rumbled around her as she began to tap a hindhoof in time with the music. As each spark fell, she guided it with her horn into a little bundle that hovered in front of her. The Warphound turned back to her and lashed out, smashing the carriage flat just as she jumped clear with the little ball of sparks levitating right behind her. One of the escorting Chimeras' special weapons teams had gotten into position, and began hucking grenades into the monster's form. They stuck in the outer epidermis and blew large chunks of goo all over the road, but lacked the penetration to truly harm the beast. Fortunately, they were more than enough of a distraction for Vinyl to finish weaving her spell. It bellowed with rage at the grenadiers, but thanks to a timely order they had gone to ground before the glob of slime it spat landed. Suddenly, the street fell silent. Another order had silenced every lasgun.

"Hey, ugly! Yeah, you, the one with the face I wrecked!" The Warphound slowly turned back to the pale mare, who sat lazily against a hunk of rubble with a softly pulsing ball of sparks above her. She touched her lips with a hoof then waved it toward the chaos spawn, and the ball of sparks wrapped in her magic zipped after the blown kiss. It split apart a meter away from the monster's face, exploding into a dragnet of arcing electricity and screaming noise that wrapped around the Warphound. The beast was forced to the ground, roaring with agony as the little sparks began to erupt into little pyres of pyrotechnics that lept up and burned down into its gooey ectoplasm. Smoke and ash rose from the bound creature until the web of energy had dissipated. Vinyl smiled wide, "an' we call that one the Thunderball!"

Then the Warphound began to stand once more. It slowly rose to its legs and turned back to her, deep, dark cracks in its ectoplasmic form. Lasbolts began to pour in it once again, each one hitting true, but still not enough to finish the job. The monster growled again, and Vinyl hauled herself upright. The pale mare dusted off her trenchcoat and glared at the fiend.

"Oh, no you do not." The Lady Bon Hadescream muttered as the Warphound turned away from the vampire and seemed to consider taking its chances with the motorized metal boxes rather than the little pale pony. Although it was here to kill the Lady Bon Hadescream, the beast was not actively seeking her life. The bother of actually controlling a Warphound was far greater than simply gluing one together and tossing it in her path. Her father had once compared it to tossing a rabid dog in through the open window of a house. She held down the trigger of her pistol, and very nearly bit through the hefty wooden stem of her lollipop from the pain as the heat from the overstressed coolant pipes washed over her. A ball of plasma bigger than her head tore through the night and slammed right between the primary eyes of the Warphound. A great black void spread through its face, and though its scream of pain threatened her sanity, she savored it all the same.

Having lost almost all cohesion, the Warphound was reduced to little stub-like legs, barely able to keep its body a meter above the street. Vinyl strode up to its nose, while the Operatives continued to pump ordinance into the beast. She taunted, "sorry, Yeller!" then hefted her guitar high above her head and swung it like a battleaxe into the monster's face. As soon as the body of the guitar smashed into the foul ooze, the gleaming headstock glowed with a harsh orange light. It had been forged in the shape of the Fire-Beast, a mighty symbol from a time before time, when dragons ruled the world with an iron fist. Vinyl raised the guitar and brought it down again and again, laughing with contempt as the lesser creature of chaos suffered and shrank back into the abyss. Finally, she lept into the air and hurled her guitar down into the core of the creature with all her might and magic, the flaming metal skull of the Fire-Beast leading the way.

"Thankyooou!" the vampire yelled. All trace of cohesion vaporized as the heat of the instrument cooked the monster from the inside out. With a whiff of ozone and a final soul-scorching shriek, the Warphound disintegrated into a shower of ectoplasm. "And gooooodnight!" Vinyl Scratch held her head high and wiped a spot of goo from her cheek. It was mostly harmless, now. She walked forward slowly, trenchcoat swishing around her legs, and yanked her guitar up from the center of the sludge. "Heh..." Suddenly, the world seemed to wobble before her eyes. "Heh... whazzat... noise?" She looked around, and realized that it was cheering. For her.

Well, that wasn't bad at all. The beast inside her was silent, unable to give a response aside from that ever-present thirst. She trudged her way out of the muck, toward the parked Chimeras. Something was happening on the other side of them, but all Vinyl wanted to do was find Octy, hug her like a teddy bear, and... stop for a little while. Her body was feeling stiff, like when the sun was up, telling her that she needed to slip into torpor for a while. Yeah... it had been a good night.

But the night was not over. "Echo-seven, are your wounded secure for transport?" The Lady Bon Hadescream kicked back a zombie that was trying to crawl up the side of the Chimera, then erased it from existence with a small blast. Octavia was doing her best, but there were just so many. "All Operatives, refocus fire on our rear. Prioritize nearby targets, and fire at will!" She tapped the communicator again, "Lambda, I need that wire-"

Spllooooorrrcch.

Octavia's lasgun twitched from side to side, searching. There had been so many just an instant ago, where had they all gone? Yes, that one was standing there, but he was missing half his head. That one had been flying, but his wings had come loose and gravity had done the rest. She, with the missing eye, had been jumping toward the Chimera, but now she was in too many pieces to be worth a precious lasbolt. Octavia unfocused from the sights of her gun for a moment, and realised that the entire street was coated with... blood. Liter upon liter of the stuff, everywhere, mixed with green goo and gibs. It took the earth pony a very long moment to process, but finally she looked up. "All targets neutralized, m'lady."

The businessmare patted her on the back and smiled. "Well done, sharpshooter." She held up her communicator. "And good show, Lambda."

Octavia sat upright, then hugged the gun and bag of spare clips tight out of some childlike instinct. The night felt so cold all of a sudden. In the corner of her vision, she could see Bon Hadescream Operatives filing back to their vehicles, some carrying bleeding comrades, others black bags that zipped up the front. "I... was that... was that..."

"The Angel of Death." Her employer said with a smile. "Your old friend. My maidservant. One of the finest the Organization has ever trained. Ah, and such sweet music she makes upon her harp." After a long blow on her pistol to cool the smoking coils, she slipped it back into a padded holster within her topcoat. "I do not know how I could manage without her."

A bright smile appeared behind the earth pony, owned of course by a mint unicorn. However, she said nothing, merely bowed her head and held out a map. The grey mare glanced over the edge of the AFV and saw Vinyl below, spitting everywhere and pawing at her mouth.

"Pllleagh! Dis zahmbie bludd 'astes 'ike tar, an' iz got wire innit!" She yanked at a hunk of the wire, and yelped in pain when part of her tongue flew out of her mouth, snipped clean through by the razor-sharp line. 

"Miss Vinyl Scratch." The Lady Bon Hadescream called.

Vinyl's ears perked up. She rolled her regenerating tongue in her mouth and asked slowly, "yeeah?"

The creme colored mare swung over the edge and landed next to the vampire. She took one of the mare's fetlocks in her own, "welcome to the Bon Hadescream Organization. I shake you warmly by the hoof." A sly grin crept across her face. "Tremendous things are in store for you."

Octavia smiled proudly at the vampire. Operative Lambda produced a comb and worked a few stray pieces of gore out of the cellist's mane. The pale mare stuck out her tongue and spat again, still trying to dislodge the foul taste from her mouth. "Got any candy?"

"As a matter of fact," the businessmare fished inside her coat, "I... Miss Scratch, why is my fetlock in your mouth?"

Vinyl smiled as innocently as possible, her fangs mere millimeters above the Lady Bon Hadescream's flesh. "Beeecause..." her eyes darted down to the still-warm plasma pistol inside the creme-colored mare's topcoat. "You burned your hoof, an' I was licking it better for ya?"

The Lady Bon Hadescream yanked her front leg back and shook the saliva off. Vinyl hissed softly. She needed a good bite. "We'll forget that ever happened, but the next time it does I will shoot you. Now," she pulled out a bag of jellybeans, "you may have-"

The vampire was already on her back, muzzle stuffed into the bag, merrily munching away at the candies. "Nom-nom-omm-nom!"

After a moment, the candymaker had to admit that she at least looked cute. She leaned against the side of the the AFV and held up her communicator to confirm that all ponies were accounted for, then gave the order to mount up. As she toggled off her communicator and looked down at the vampire once more, a feathered head leaned around the side of the Chimera. She raised an eyebrow, "Officer Rollins?"

He glanced down at the vampire, then back at his superior. "Ma'am. Just got off the link with BRNCOM." The gryphon gave her a fatalistic smile. "It's like I always say, off the spit-roast, into the dragon's mouth."
> Industrial Interlude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Coming through!"

Vinyl and Octavia stopped reminiscing and flattened themselves against the sides of the tunnel. Three stallions trotted past, carrying white bags labeled Pure Cane Sugar, and green ones labeled Fragmentation Grenades.

"Hey, don't get those mixed up, or some kid'll have a really rotten day when she bites into a chocolate egg!" The vampire yelled after them.

"Maybe you would like to help sometime instead of slacking, Vinyl?" Her friend teased as they passed a room labeled Gumdrop Drop Forge.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, that's why I think we're going back. She wants that city. It's an honor thing."

"That was almost two years ago," the grey mare mused. "One would think that the Lady Bon Hadescream would have tried by now."

"I saw the Boss' eyes that night. She wants Manehattan like I want a nice thick pizza from that awesome pasta diner on Third and Hoofington." Her tongue swept across her chops. "Mmmmm... hey, maybe I can tour back there on my next concert. Get the lay of the land and stuff."

Octavia kept walking, but inwardly she trembled at the word concert. Vinyl was still alive and well. She had been "traumatized" by the death of her roommate, and had "taken a sabbatical" to refocus on her music. That had only caused ticket sales to go through the roof every time the Lady Bon Hadescream let her do a show. Octavia had helped with a few, donning a black shirt to cover her cutie mark and disappearing into the shadows with the rest of the stage crew. It was the closest she would ever get to a real concert, and more than she deserved. A mudpony had to know her place, those of earth were born to serve the master race.

"Octy?"

The grey mare shook herself. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Nah, you did. You were mutterin' something under your breath." She tilted down her glasses. "I thought you were reading the names off doors or somethin'. Ooh, there's one!" The vampire pointed to a plaque that read Chocolate Mixing River No.3. "I gotta admit, I wish they put up signs around the chocolate waterfall. How am I supposed to know that it's unsanitary to take a boogie board over the drop? I showered first!"

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "V-Vinyl, that made no sense at all."

"Neither did what you were sayin'." The DJ smiled, and wiggled her ears. Octavia was hers. Vinyl had trouble sharing, especially with some long-dead jerk dad. "So," she shoved open a blast door, "meant to ask earlier, how've those performances in the mess hall been going?"

The cellist blushed as they neared a junction. Steel beams reinforced the stonework at key junctures, and the nearest power box showed a fresh wax seal of inspection. The estate was old, but the Bon Hadescream Organization had made it a fortress when they took possession. A fortress that produced candy, and held guided tours who never saw what happened beyond the velvet ropes. The hardest thing for Octavia to wrap her head around had been the sheer size of the place. It seemed like a miniature city, populated with armed operatives marching here and there, carrying chocolate, foil, and Garand-pattern lasrifles. This was the heart of the Corporation, a hardy organ that never rested. Ponies rushed through the tunnels and corridors. Machines hissed and groaned as they produced delicious food and deadly weapons. Stone walls surrounded the castle proper, where the Great Brain feverishly tried to keep up with her duties. Every hour of the day and night, the work carried on.

To that end, the mess hall was a literal hall. Perhaps not as large as the Blueblood Concertorium, but certainly able to hold a hungry army. The high wood arches of the ceiling and sound absorbing tiles, designed to reduce the echo from mealtime chatter, even gave it decent acoustics. She had nervously asked the Lady Bon Hadescream if she might play during the off-hours, and received a startlingly abrupt, "yes, pass me that inkwell."

"I... I am starting to draw small crowds now." Rather large ones, actually. It was not a real stage, nor could she give proper performances since the operatives flowed in and out of the mess hall like blood through a pony's liver, but... it was what she loved to do. Octavia could not deny that she felt just a little like a princess, or more precisely a musician favored by a princess, performing in a castle for the castle guards. She knew it was just a fantasy. Mudponies were not princesses.

"All-right!" The vampire grinned. "You gotta do one when I'm vertical sometime. Get any roses thrown at you?"

The grey mare blushed again as they pushed open a pair of steel doors and stepped out onto a long bridge. Below them was a massive training room, filled with operatives. A pegasus darted over their heads with a blue-tipped practice rifle in his hooves. He glanced down at the two girls and winked, then tucked in his wings and dropped out of sight. Vinyl glanced over the railing. The operative fell fifteen meters, then flared his wings for a touch of control before crash-tackling a sandbag dummy. The vampire whistled, then glanced back to her partner. "Slick, eh?"

"Very." Octavia avoided eye contact and slowed her breathing.

"Yeah, those guys are nasty. Remember when they first stormed into that concert hall, one was gonna try and gut me with a bayonet?" She giggled. "Good times."

They walked in silence for a moment. Vinyl did not realize the importance of the quiet until they were halfway across the bridge. "Hey... that pegasus winked at us."

"He did?"

Vinyl licked her fangs. "Hmm. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he just winked at you."

The cellist huffed in annoyance.

Her friend rubbed against her as they walked. "Soo... what's his name?"

"How am I to know? Am I his keeper?"

"Are you?" Vinyl asked coyly. "I mean, if you're into that-"

"No!" The cellist hissed. Below them, a soft chirp quickly built to an ear-splitting booom! The bridge barely trembled. "He is just a-an operative who comes to some of my performances."

"Some?"

"Many. Well, most." She blushed again. "Does it matter?"

"Well, I need to know if he's live bait or not." The pale mare tilted back her red hat. "I kinda burn through the redshirts around here when I go out on missions. If you've got a crush on one-"

"Vinyl, I do not. You have met many fans, yes? You like them, they make you feel wonderful inside, but it is... it is not the same."

The vampire grinned. "Yeah, I get ya." Her eyes softened a little as they pushed through another set of doors. "But... I mean, would you? If he asked?"

The cellist blinked. Then she looked at the floor. "According to the Bon Hadescream Corporation, they are listed as Agents. They are operatives of the Organization. Their lives matter. We are Assets. We are just like AFVs or comm terminals, costly to replace, but ultimately..." She ran her tongue over her lips as a chill ran down her spine. "Expendable."

"It's not quite that bad, Octy." The pale mare protested.

"Regardless, it is best to remain focused on our missions. That is our function." They walked for a little while before she admitted, "but... if he continues to watch me play... I hope he will enjoy my performances. I hope all of them do. I feel so... Vinyl, it is my calling to make beautiful music, but to play in a place like this, to bring a touch of joy to those who see the things we do..."

"Might as well make the world a lil' brighter before we burn out, eh?"

The grey mare nodded. The two mares had entered a large room, with many corridors leading to and fro. A trio of ponies, each one carrying a large barrel labeled Agave Nectar, stepped off a cargo lift and marched down one of the tunnels. They were muttering something to themselves that sounded a lot like, "the wrath of the Bon Hadescream Organization is swift. It is reserved for the wicked, the unrepentant, and those who use high-fructose corn syrup."

Vinyl nodded toward the lift. "Well, you don't just sound great when you're on stage, Octy. You look good too, especially when you start swaying an' forth with the music." The vampire grinned. When she was really focused, every movement of the grey mare's body served a part of the song. A slight lean to the side would give her a better angle on the cello, while her twitching tail would keep time. Then her head would turn slightly as her ears listened to her instrument and the way the sound reflected back. As her ears twitched, her long black mane would swish over her shoulders and across her back, since she always played standing up. "And I'm not just saying that just because it gets your blood pulsing through your veins. Everypony can see how pretty you look when you're up on stage."

Octavia stared at the floor. "V-Vinyl..."

"What?" The vampire looked at her friend. A squad of rifle-toting operatives trotted past, yelling about some drill or another.

"Am I pretty?"

Vinyl Scratch halted abruptly and scratched her mane. "The hades kind of question is that? Of course you're pretty."

The earth pony winced as the unicorn's words carried through the room. Nopony stopped to look, and the cellist dared to hope that the hiss of machinery and the clop of hoof against stone had drowned it out. She bit her lip, then said quietly, "I... I wasn't taught to be pretty. I was taught to be forgettable. To blend into the background, to see but be unseen." Her voice had turned cold again. "My father was... conflicted about me. On the one hoof, I was not a unicorn. On the other, my coat was grey, and I was willing to learn anything."

If her dad was alive, I'd punch him in the nose. "So when boys said you were pretty, that wasn't a compliment?"

The cellist nodded, then began walking again. They boarded the lift, and Vinyl poked a button. A mesh screen slid over the front, and with a grind of machinery the lift rose. Octavia fiddled with her pink bow-tie. "I know he was... wrong, and he did teach me that there were some uses for beauty, but I... I am not used to being thought of in that way." She swallowed hard. "And, after I was out on my own, I... well, the boys who would tell me I was pretty did not have honest intentions."

Vinyl looked into her friend's eyes, then reached out and touched her shoulder. "Yeah. You're pretty. And don't let anypony ever tell you otherwise." She leaned back and ran a hoof through her electric blue mane. "Pretty ain't all about what you have on the outside. It's about how you walk, how you talk, and how you lay a smackdown on somepony who's bothering you. But, yeah, pretty's also about havin' a rockin' body," the vampire licked her fangs, "and yeah, I'd say you got that too, Octy. I grew up surrounded by photos of fashion models and critiques of awesome paintings. I could run a freakin' agency for certifying people as officially pretty."

The cellist bit back a smile.

"Hades, I could make bank with that idea!" Vinyl rubbed her front hooves together, and the Octavia could have sworn that she heard the crackle of lighting. Perhaps a science team was testing out a generator. "Yeah, gotta write that down... but as for you, I can officially certify and bonify you as one-hundred-percent Vinyl Scratch approved." She reached out and hugged her friend. "Mmm. Yeah, you're pretty. And if any boy says you ain't, I'mma knock his block off."

Octavia laughed, a deep, warm sound that made her feel good all over. "Thank you, Vinyl."

"Um-hmm. Anytime." She pulled back and adjusted her hat. "I own your soul. Stuff like this is part of the extended maintenance contract." A cruel grin crossed the vampire's muzzle.

The earth pony rolled her eyes. With a grind and a groan, the lift reached the surface. The screen slid aside to reveal a bustling warehouse, managed by a mare wearing a cheery Bon Hadescream Candy Co. shirt and a holstered laspistol. She waved to the two Assets, then scurried off to inspect an incoming shipment.

"Did you ever sit in the woods and watch the little ants go back and forth, Vinyl?"

The vampire blinked. "Sun. Ouch. Remember?" She rolled her shoulders. "Was it cool?"

"I suppose it was... for a little girl who had to learn to lie still for hours on end." The two mares trotted off the lift and joined the flow of traffic toward one of the warehouse's exits. Everypony seemed to shift a few steps away from them. "I feel rather like an ant who has just come out of the hill every time we come up to the surface."

Vinyl nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty close, except that the Queen Ant lives in a bossin' castle with Howitzers in the windows." They stepped out into the night and saw that castle, brightly lit by searchlights and navigational aids. Pegasi buzzed around its turrets, and a few AFVs patrolled the moat. The moon was low in the sky, for the hour was early and soon it would be dawn. The vampire yawned instinctively, and rolled her shoulders. She felt safe here. Thick walls of stone surrounded the facility, separating this little enclave from the outer world. The vast underground network below their hooves was far larger than the DJ had ever bothered to explore. This was the heart of Bon Hadescream, and the brain was the castle proper.

It was beautiful, like something out of a painting in a child's book. Tour guides had the best photo spots all marked out on their maps. A castle surrounded by warehouses, atop a massive manufacturing warren, all dedicated to the making of delicious candy. Ponies believed what they chose to believe, and most wanted to believe the Bon Hadescream Corporation were mere candymakers. The operatives made this mental leap as short as possible. Everything was as innocent as could be on the surface. Well, almost everything. Octavia frowned as her eyes fell on something else that rose up into the night sky.

"Lookin' at The Spire?" Vinyl asked.

"I... I still do not understand it. It is a monument to their dead, but... more than that." She pointed to the onyx obelisk. Its black stone was marbled with veins of purple that gave off no visible light, but seemed to glow through your eyelids when you blinked.

The vampire shrugged. "It's an icon. A symbol, like Celestia. Something from a forgotten time." Her mother had mentioned that it was very, very old. Dating back perhaps to the days when dragons ruled the world. How she knew about that the DJ did not know, and her mother's letter had self-destructed as soon as the vampire's eyes passed over the final word. Mom's always do that. "They carve names into it."

"Yes, I know. It is the tradition of the Organization, they have done it since their founding, almost a thousand years ago." The sniper narrowed her eyes. "Curious how there is always room for one more fallen hero."

"Hey, not my problem. I don't plan on havin' 'em ever worry about putting us up there." She yawned again. "C'mon. We need to catch some shuteye. Doesn't She have a job for us next nightfall?"

The cellist nodded. Their quarters were next to each other. Vinyl had a wonderful dilapidated crypt, which she filled with her coffin, speakers, and guns. Plus a few refrigerators, extra-loud subwoofers, a trophy rack for prized albums, various empty cartons and discarded wrappers, a few gun racks for holding her clothes, and a large pile of bits. A sign hung over the bits, proclaiming that they were the happy-fun-time pile. Surprisingly, this was actually very humble compared to the den of horrors she had turned her room into when they were renting together.

One afternoon, Octavia had returned to the apartment, expecting to find her roommate asleep as usual. Instead, Vinyl had all the blinds drawn tight and a small pile of dead rodents atop a tarp in the middle of the common room. Apparently, she had discovered a certain frequency that had rather messily ended them. The DJ had claimed that it was only retaliation, because they kept nibbling on her speaker cables. The cellist had explained patiently to her roomie that they would not be interested in the cables if she just kept her food in the kitchen and did not drop crumbs all over the floor, and yes the unicorn would have to clean all of this mess up before sneaking out to her concert tonight.

At the thought of those lean times, Octavia's stomach grumbled. The cellist had lived on carefully budgeted meals for a very long time before that last night in Manehattan had turned her life upside down. It had taken her three months to adjust to the idea that she could eat as much as she wanted at the mess hall, and there would always be more. The Bon Hadescream Organization held it as an article of faith that soldiers could only fight well if fed well. She had put on quite a few pounds, but according to her monthly physicals it was almost completely muscle mass. The earth pony had a strong suspicion that Vinyl's bite had done something to her metabolism. Her wound recovery rate was evidence enough.

"Go ahead, Vinyl. I... I'll be along shortly." Her stomach grumbled again.

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "You sure, Octy? You're the one who needs sleep." She yawned. Torpor was calling, or to be more specific, her custom plush coffin. Buckboard wood was for chumps.

"I am sure." She smiled. "Oh... and Vinyl... do you really think we're going back?"

"Yeah. And we're gonna do it right. Especially after all the dreck ARGUS has slung our way. We're gonna roll in and push 'em out block by block." Vinyl smiled. "It's gonna be great."

"If you say so." The grey mare looked over her shoulder at the Spire once more. "ARGUS has certainly put enough names on that obelisk." She glanced back at her friend. "Oh, and Vinyl..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

That day, the corpse slept with a smile.
> Dark Alleys
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Two ponies stumbled through the streets, giggling happily. The moon was high overhead, and there were few others out at this time of night. They were trotting back to her home after a rather riotous party. She had just met him a few weeks  ago, and he was quite the charmer. A little too clingy for her tastes, but sweet in his own way. He said that he adored the warmth of her touch, and a look into her eyes was worth all the money in the world. Sappy, but he could say it with a straight face. Their shoes tapped along the concrete and their tails swished together as they turned a corner.

"It's nothing fancy," the mare assured him. "Just an apartment. I mean, I'm only an accountant."

"Well, you certainly embezzled my heart," he replied with a wink. "I'm but a poor weatherpony."

She giggled again as he traced a wing over her back. "Oh, you pegasi. Always so forward."

"Forward? Oh no, if I was being forward," he gently pressed her against a lamppost, "I'd do something like this!"

The mare kissed back, of course. He was a little flighty, but he had been a shoulder to cry on when she needed it. His touch always felt a little cold, probably because he was so used to working at high altitudes or something. She was not a biologist, but if you needed a thirty-million bit account balanced before breakfast, she was the mare for the job. Her horn glowed softly as she straightened that scarf he always wore around his neck.

"It must be hard, being up there, I mean." She shivered at the thought. They trotted down the lane, away from the safe glow of the lamppost. "Looking down, seeing everything so small. And you're out in the hot sun all the time!"

"Oh, I never work day shifts," he replied casually. "I've always felt most alive when the sun goes down. The sky doesn't care about the sun or the moon, those clouds always need tending."

She raised an eyebrow. "But how do you see?"

"One doesn't always need to. Most of it's done by feel, or sound. When I do, the moonlight helps, and there's so much light bouncing up from the city that it's almost as though the sun were shining up from underground." He flexed his wings and gave her a toothy grin. "You'd be amazed what a pegasus can accomplish under cover of night."

"Oh, stop it!" she laughed as they crossed a street. Apartment blocks rose high above their heads, old things made of stone and steel. "I asked you back for a cup of coca to warm the bones, nothing more."

He winked again. "That kiss was all the warmth I needed, but-"

Something rattled in an alley to their right. Both ponies turned to look. The sound was not from a rodent, it was the harsh clinking of iron against concrete. He edged between the mare and the alleyway, and squinted. Perhaps somepony was tossing out their garbage.

"That's a chain," she whispered quickly. "I know that sound, it's a chain. They chain the arithmetic cogitators to the desks, and the chains are too long. They scrape against the floor if you knock them." The mare said it more out of curiosity than fear. A cogitator was a machine of brass and steam, with a hint of magic. The chains were to protect them from theft. It took her a moment to remember that chains were also used to protect others from the one fettered.

The stallion was about to suggest that they run for their lives, something both would have done on first instinct if the night had not been so warm and happy. How could anything ruin this moment between two young lovers? That was answered when a ghastly pale shape tore out of the alley and tackled both of them to the ground. The pegasus felt some martial instinct swell, and landed a lucky kick that knocked the creature right in its ribs. To her credit, the mare slipped off her saddlebag and smacked their attacker right in the skull before screaming in panic. It rolled back toward the alley, grumbling to itself, then turned back toward them. Both ponies gasped as they got a good look.

"Dear Celestia," the accountant breathed. "That's a pony!"

Perhaps once, but now it was something less. Its coat was bleached white, its eyes were a dull red, and around its neck was a thick iron collar. Three chains trailed from the collar to the ground, and one hoof still had an iron manacle around it. The creature opened its mouth and hissed at them, but far more terrifying than the sound were the two long, sharp incisors. It raised the hoof with the iron manacle and pointed shakily at the mare.

"We should have run," the stallion said without moving his lips. His eyes were wide, and she could feel his heart hammering just like her own. "Bad things always happen in alleyways."

"It doesn't have wings," she whispered back, "can you-"

Without further warning, the creature lunged forward, wrapped the chains around her neck, and drug her to the ground. The pegasus lept into the air and snapped a kick from his powerful hindlegs right into its face, but the creature grabbed him by a cannon and slammed him into a wall. Still dragging the struggling mare, it rolled the stallion over and snarled into his face. All that the pegasus saw was a thousand sharp teeth and two horrible red eyes, accompanied by the foul stench of its breath and a screech that made his panicked heart stop altogether for a moment.

Savage terror took control. He kicked upward then squirmed free before the creature could strike back. It snapped out and caught him by the tail with its teeth. He flapped his wings and kicked hard, then screamed at the pain as he tore free. Gibbering wildly, the stallion took off down the street before soaring up into the sky. His only thought was of those horrible eyes and that wretched sound. Love had lost, and fear had won.

While her escort had fought and fled, the mare had tried to uncoil the chains with her magic. They seemed to have a mind of their own, as foolish as she knew that was to even imagine. She was an accountant, used to numbers and figures, things that made sense if you looked at them one problem at a time. That was why she had a pair of books on a scale on her flank. This was utterly incomprehensible to her, but she held to her sanity by breaking the situation into small problems. She had to get free of the chains. That task consumed her world for a few seconds.

Finally, just as she heard the stallion's tail rip, she threw off the last chain and went racing down the alleyway, not even bothering to see what had become of him. All that mattered was getting to that light on the other end of the alley. The monster had blocked her other way out, but she just had to reach that light. The accountant did not look back, she just ran faster than she ever had in her life. Almost there, just a few more meters, you can do it! And she would indeed have made it... if she had not lost a shoe and gone tumbling headlong into the side of a metal dumpster.

The impact dazed her, and she felt something wet running down the side of her face. The accountant rolled around the side of the metal bin and crawled toward the light. It was safety, it was hope, it was... gone? Something stood between her and the light. She looked up as she pulled herself another few centimeters further, and saw two dull red eyes staring down. It snarled at her, picked her up, and shoved her against the wall. She felt something wet and wretched lick up the side of her face. The mare almost vomited as her nostrils were filled with the stench of its breath.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please don't." To her surprise, the creature pulled back. The accountant dared to look up, and saw what might have been an attempt at a smile plastered across its muzzle. She forced a smile as well. Maybe it's just misunderstood, or hurt. Maybe it's really quite nice inside, it just needs a little love. Maybe-

"Should have... run," it croaked in a scratchy, raspy voice. The mare's eyes widened as she realized the creature was taunting her with her escort's words. "Bad things always happen in alleyways." It opened its mouth wide and forced her head to the side, exposing the pounding arteries in her neck. She tried to scream, but it held her mouth shut. In the corner of her eye, she saw its right ear twitch oddly, as though something were moving it out of the way.

"Yeah. Bad things happen." Blam!

The unicorn dropped limp to the ground. Blood and bone covered the concrete, along with tufts of fur and slimy lumps of flesh. For a moment, she thought she was dead. Her logical side urged her to bite her tongue, and she yelped in surprise at the pain. The mare scrambled to her hooves and gasped for breath. A different shape was standing between her and the light, with a smoking shotgun slung across its back. The shape had taken out a black bag, and was stuffing the remains of the creature into it. She cleared her throat, but found herself unable to speak. Her legs wobbled, and she fell to her knees again. The shape looked up.

"Were you bit?"

"N-no," she replied. The shape unslung its shotgun again and stepped closer. "Really, I promise!" She saw the barrel come up, and closed her eyes. A bright light flooded through her eyelids, and she again thought that she had died until something soft daubed against the side of her face.

"You're bleeding, but you'll be fine. It'd take a lot more than a licked gash to turn you... I hope." The light flicked off, and she reached out to steady herself against the shape. The accountant opened her eyes and saw that it was an earth pony clad in black armor. Not the flashy black that she had seen in the cinema, but a matte material that seemed to absorb light. His armor was made of plates with fabric between them, and covered his entire body. The voice was masculine, but it seemed distorted. It seemed that the helmet disguised not only his face, but his words as well. He patted down her legs with the soft cloth, and shone the light on his shotgun over the rest of her body to check for wounds.

After a moment the electric torch swung away from her, and he trotted down the alleyway in search of something. The black knight returned a moment later with her lost shoe. She slipped a trembling hoof into it, and smiled thankfully at him.

"Can you walk?"

The accountant staggered to the entrance of the alley, and slumped against the wall. Her body felt alert and drained all at once. The black knight, for he wore armor and she could think of no better title, offered her a canteen. She drank in slow gulps, then handed it back. "Thank you." Her eyes turned back to the dead creature. "What... what was that?"

He chuckled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You just saved my life!" she protested. "What do you mean I wouldn't believe you?"

The black knight shrugged. "Fine. You just got attacked by a vampire." He rolled his neck. "Not a true vampire, something weird we've been seeing a lot of. They don't think like normal ones, they don't try to establish power or sire more of their kind, they just... feed." The earth pony unslung his shotgun and loaded in another shell. In the dim light, she saw Model 12 "Perfect Repeater" etched into the metal receiver. "Good ol' PR Twelve and I killed it. I like to keep her handy for close encounters. We've had a lot more than normal of late." There was a reason he was alone tonight, instead of patrolling with a full squad.

She nodded reflexively. He could have asked her for the combination to the company safe and she would have told him before her mind caught up with her mouth. After a moment her sense returned, and she repeated, "vampire?"

"Yep."

The mare forced a chuckle. "S-surely you can't be serious... vampires don't exist." They couldn't exist. "Y-you're a... a... police officer, and... and he was a serial killer, yes! But you can't tell me that, because I'd be traumatized." The accountant nodded slowly, but the earth pony's head did not reciprocate the gesture. "But... but vampires can't be real! A pony couldn't survive on blood! And... and he didn't turn to ash, the ones in the cinema turn to ash when they die!"

He sighed, then hung his head. "No. No, you're right, ma'am. A pony can't survive on blood. It's a story we tell victims to keep them from going into shock."

"Well," the accountant smiled stiffly. "I assure you, I'll be... I'll be..." She turned to look back down the alleyway again. Her eyes fell on the black bag, with bits of creature stuffed into it. The mare closed her eyes, and saw those horrible teeth once more. "I... was just attacked... by a vam..." She bit her lip, then turned to look at him. "Could you say something, please?"

"What?" the earth pony asked.

"Your voice... I... I feel like I've heard it before."

His legs stiffened, then he stepped over to the black bag and hefted it onto his back. "No, ma'am."

"I know I have," she protested, but her mind was foggy. She could not recall more than the way he spoke, not even his face. Still, she felt a sense of peace at his voice. He was somepony she trusted, even if she never had paid him much mind. "I..."

"You're just grasping for something you can understand." He said softly. "Searching for a handle on the moment. Here," the stallion pulled a bar wrapped in foil from a pouch on his armor. "Eat this. It'll do you some good."

As soon as she peeled the wrapper off with a glow of her horn, she realized how hungry she was. The chocolate was rich and filling, filled with fresh nuts that crunched instead of stale ones that crumbled. "I still think I remember you..." she said between mouthfuls. The bar was gone too soon, but it left her feeling stronger.

"Do you remember your way home?" The stallion asked in as gentle a voice as he could manage through the helmet's voxbox.

"Yes," she replied. "Will you... walk with me?"

He glanced out onto the street. Nopony was around, not at this time of night. Nopony had heard her screams, or come to see what was wrong. Nopony would notice him, certainly not if they ducked around the streetlamps. The black knight nodded, and she led the way. As they walked, she pestered him with questions, most of which he answered with silence. By the time they had gotten back to her abode, she had almost convinced herself that this was all some special police action, and he was an undercover cop. On the front stoop of her apartment complex, he stopped, and nodded toward the door. The message was clear, he could go no further, even with an invitation.

"You really are a black knight." The accountant smiled at him.

"I'm just another operative," he replied plainly. Knights were more trouble than they were worth, those of the Errant kind at least. "But you have a choice to make."

She leaned her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pair of what looked like jelly beans, wrapped in some clear material. He bit open the packing, and held them out to her. "When you get inside. Think about tonight." He took a breath. "You want to wake up tomorrow and believe whatever you want to believe, you take the blue one."

She took the two jelly beans with a glow of her horn, and looked up at him. "And the red one?"

"You take that... and you're admitting to yourself that weird things really do happen. That I'm not a cop, and that the thing that attacked you wasn't somepony wired on drugs. You take that one, and you're accepting it as truth. Nothing changes, except that you've got a burden to carry. A burden of knowledge." He glanced away, then back. "It's a heavy load to bear."

"What if I don't take either?" the accountant asked. Logic was her only ally on this night, and logic demanded all possible outcomes.

"They melt in twelve hours." He stuffed the clear material back into a pocket. "You have that long to make up your mind. If you don't choose, even after what you've seen, you just wander onward. That's what a lot of ponies do every day, and I guess it makes them happy. If you take one pill, the other melts." He leaned his head to the side. "They don't really do much. You won't get superpowers or anything. It's a cerebral effect, the act of choosing is enough to spark your neurons. One of those just gives your brain some nutrients. Your life is yours to shape with your decisions." The stallion took a breath, and looked up at the stars. They were beautiful tonight. He looked back at her. "All I'm offering is the truth, nothing more. Reject it, accept it, or shrug. It's your choice."

She slipped the jelly beans into her saddlebag and nodded. "I understand. And... have we met before?"

The stallion shifted on his hooves for a moment, then turned away. She looked after him hopefully, then lowered her head and trudged up the steps.

"Goodnight, Miss Even Counts."

"Goodnight," she replied, her hoof on the doorhandle. Suddenly her ears shot up. "Wait!" Her head turned toward the voice. "Where did... you..." The mare glanced up and down the street, but he was gone, as though he had never even existed. "How did you know my name?"

The night gave no answer. She waited for a moment, then glanced up at the moon. It too was silent. Finally, the mare turned and entered the apartment block, the jelly beans nestled safely in her saddlebag.
> Just Another Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Black hid the nicks and dents. Black hid him in the shadows, kept him out of the public eye. Black hid his face, kept him anonymous. He was just one more operative holding the line, and hold they would. The stallion steadied his aim and squeezed the trigger rune again, absorbing the shotgun's blowback with his shoulder. Another cultist dropped to the ground, missing her head. Three more rushed him, thinking that his weapon was too slow to catch all of them. They would have been right, if he had been carrying a common scattergun. He shifted his grip to hold the shotgun by the forend, and the trigger rune glowed a soft red. He pumped the action three times, the weapon roaring with each, and the three cultists fell dead. The stallion shifted his hooves back to the trigger, and the red hammer and sickle rune faded back to cold grey. This was not a battle. This was housekeeping.

He loaded shells into his shotgun while two other operatives moved up. Outside the abandoned warehouse, another squad was cutting down runners. This was a decrepit section of town with high unemployment. Ponies looked for something to fill the time, and something to fill the empty place in their bellies. The cults promised an easy life, sugar-coated with sensuality and spiked with chems. He walked past an empty syringe. Next to it was a stone stiff colt, dead for only a day or so. The cultists would have let him lay there until he started to smell. They had what they wanted from him, his money and his life. The operative felt a pang of sorrow, but it was dulled by fatigue. He had not slept in a week. Not for longer than two hours at a stretch, anyway. Everything felt dreary, mechanical, and all his reactions were just a touch slower than they should have been. He raised the shotgun and blasted another cultist, then rolled to his left and blew away another who had jumped one of his squadmates. For a moment, the earth pony forgot why he was even raiding this warehouse. All that mattered was the target, the trigger, the tink-chick of reloading.

There was one thing he remembered with perfect clarity. Her. Her pretty face. The way she had eaten that chocolate bar with careful bites, and the questions she had asked. He remembered walking her home, and wanting to take his helmet off to feel the cool night air against his face. The operative leaned down to help a squadmate back onto his hooves. Had she taken the red pill, or the blue one? Had she just shrugged, written it all off as a bad dream? He pondered for a moment longer, until another operative prodded him in the side and gestured toward a door. The earth pony took his place at one side, glanced at his comrades, then with three quick blasts obliterated the hinges. He kicked the door in, and two other operatives hosed everything inside with lasbolts.

Through a hole in the roof, he could see the moon. It was high and bright, just like last night. He had gotten there in time to save her, but not in time to protect her. He had been tired last night as well, and had not run as quickly as he could have. Now she knew what horrors lurked in the dark corners of the earth. That monster had not been sired, the autopsy team thought it had been created through some foul ritual. He rolled through the doorway and pumped a few rounds into an overturned table, winging one of the cultists behind it. Something smacked into his front with enough force to hurt, and he ducked back behind cover. The cultists were shooting low-caliber rounds. Cheap Vladof white-pattern knockoffs, from the look of it. His armor had stopped the bullet, but he saw another operative fall when a cultist up in the rafters emptied his clip into her back. The earth pony whipped up his shotgun and fired two shells at the coward. The buckshot's raw force hurled his body over the rail, then gravity took him ten meters straight down onto hard concrete.

Tonight's assault was to root out this cult and discover if they were the source of these vampires. There was a grander scheme, but he did not have the mental strength to care anymore. None of them did. They were worn out, wounded, and worried. Too many things had gone wrong of late, from a botched weapons trade with ARGUS to that renegade gang of Lycans who flaunted the Pack Pact. He still had a deep gash down his back left leg that was holding together with nothing more than medigel and grace from above. In the corner of his eye he saw a cultist with a wicked blade spring out of the shadows and cut deep into another operative. The fanatic was high as a kite, it took three blasts from the shotgun to put him all the way down. This was sloppy. They should not be here tonight, it was costing them too much. But this was their job, to speak for the lost, and regardless of what they discovered tonight, this cult had killed too many for the Bon Hadescream Organization to turn a blind eye.

Even so, there was mercy. He saw a young colt, huddled behind a crate, whimpering to himself. The operative heard a baamph as a stun grenade went off in another corner of the warehouse, and saw the colt shut his eyes in fright. He was a young unicorn with light caramel colored fur, scared out of his wits, and dressed too neatly to be a regular here. The operative clicked his communicator, confirmed that the situation was as well in hoof as could be expected, and moved toward the boy. He kept his eyes searching and his shotgun up, then nudged the colt with the barrel. The boy's eyes shot wide open, and he started to reach for a bloody switchblade that had been dropped by a dead cultist.

"Don't." The helmet amplified his voice, and the colt froze in terror.

"Muh... muh... monster!" he said softly, and pushed himself away until his back was against the box.

The operative kicked the switchblade into a corner, then checked over his shoulder. "Why are you here tonight?"

"G-girl. My girl," he blushed, his natural shyness enough to break through the horror of the moment. "Well, I'd like her to be my girl, but she... she's not. She comes here... and I wanted to..." he swallowed hard. "Be near her." The colt looked around, and gathered his courage. "But I... I didn't know this place was a dump. She made it sound like paradise-" He suddenly found the barrel of a shotgun pressed into his throat.

"Is she worth dying for?"

The boy shook his head quickly.

"No?" asked the operative. "You desired her company, but you would not give your life to protect her?" The earth pony was so very tired, but he felt a glimmer of hope for this boy. He had been young once too, and still was despite all he had seen since he joined the Organization. Perhaps tonight one life could be snatched from the jaws of death. "Then I don't think she's the girl for you. Certainly not if she ran off and left you alone like this."

The colt glanced from side to side, wondering if this was somehow a test, or some kind of initiation. No. There was too much blood all over the floor, too many bodies laying on the ground. He had seen how these black specters blew through the door. They were not the cops. The cops don't come around here anyway, not unless they're looking for bribes. Still, that girl was so bewitchingly beautiful that he could not agree. For a second, he could see her in his mind's eye... and then he saw her for real, a blade in the glow of her magic, sneaking up behind the black knight who held him at shotgun-point.

"We'll be together, you and me," she seemed to whisper into his mind. "Just keep his eyes on you, while I make him a sacrifice... my champion." Some green fire of unknown origin danced in the darks of her eyes, and she moved on impossibly quiet hooves. He felt a surge of joy, held back only by a curious little tidbit he had studied in school, for he was a very diligent student. He had learned much about the pony body, including a thing called the cadaveric spasm. It was the tendency of a body to stiffen on death. He glanced down at the shotgun muzzle pressed against his throat, and realized that he truly was being asked to trade his own life for the girl's.

Her smile was enchanting. Something exploded to the left, but he could not turn his gaze away from her. She held the blade low as she skulked behind some boxes. Nopony would see. "You came here for me, my sweet. Do not turn back, it's too late. We were meant to be together. Remember how you told me I knew you better than your parents ever could?" Her horn pulsed, and a sweet vision filled his senses.

All these things happened in the twinkling of an eye, before the operative could grow suspicious. The colt felt the warmth of her embrace, the power of being her champion. He would be accepted by the cult, welcomed into their secrets. He would belong. There would be no more yelling like at home, no more studies, only pleasure. What more was there to life but pleasure? How could he cheat himself of such an offer, when he had already come so far?

"Love..." the operative felt lightheaded, as though something was pushing his thoughts down. He could still remember her clearly, and little else. He had been saying something to the boy... "Love is about wanting the best for the one you care about, because you know she wants the best for you too."

"I love you," the cultist sang through the young colt's mind, but hurriedly.

"She sits there all day at her adding machine, calculating things that make your head spin, and you only see her when she comes to get the office's lunch from your deli." The operative knew he was rambling, but something fuzzy was clogging his mind. Was he really that tired? "And you smile, make small talk while you put the sandwiches together. You become the friend she never thinks about, but... it is still well with your soul." He shut his eyes for a second, then forced them open again. "Because you're strong enough to fight monsters, but not to ask her out, even though you know she would say yes." He knew, but he also knew she would never ask either. They were friends, and it was too risky. The fear of an awkward refusal, or worse, the relationship souring, kept them silent. Better just to see each other and smile than to risk it all and see it come apart. Not to mention the fact that every night he picked up his shotgun and held the line. "That's what love is..." he mumbled.

Something else exploded. The colt took a deep breath.

"Just a second more, my champion, and then my lips shall be upon yours."

He smiled to get the operative's attention, then shifted his gaze into the creeping mare's eyes. They were lovely, bewitching, and filled with the burning souls of so many who had fallen to her charms. The colt raised his hoof to point firmly at her. "Love. Not lust." I can't let her kill him. He has a special somepony. She doesn't want me. I'm just a disposable scalpel to her.

Two neurons sparked, and the operative's training kicked in. We speak for the lost. Three hundred and sixty five days at Camp Pendulum, every moment spent melting and reforging his body and mind. We cheer the innocent. He was here tonight not to take life, but to save it. This boy, and others like him, they were the reason they had come. We act for the victims. The dead colt with a needle next to his corpse, he never had a chance. Came here looking for something better, and all they had to offer was a false hope. We who have won life's lottery will answer, not in guilt but acceptance of our duty, for those too weak to cry out.

He had already rolled to the side, found the target, and brought his shotgun up. Her horn glowed, and the operative had to roll again to dodge the flying blade. He squeezed the trigger, and the ritual knife was blown apart by buckshot. The mare screamed in pain, as though the knife were part of her, and staggered back. He hauled himself upright to get a clear shot, then hissed in pain when one of the little shards from the knife was levitated into his side. "We find profit in Harmony," he muttered, taking strength from the mantra, "and liability in Discord."

"Pretty words," she whispered, and ripped down a catwalk above him with a brilliant pulse of her horn. He barely managed to get out of the way as the hunks of metal fell to the ground. "But not words of power."

He put two blasts of buckshot in the direction of her voice, and she ducked for cover. As another part of the warehouse exploded, for this little battle was but one of many, he yelled, "if the world will be shaped only by strength, it will be shaped with ours!"

"You cannot begin to comprehend the might of the True Powers!" she spat back, hurling a jagged hunk of wood at him. It nicked his armor and knocked him down, but otherwise he was unharmed. The stallion slung his shotgun and crawled around one of the crates, while she closed her eyes and summoned forth another mystic blade. "I'll make sacrifices of you all!" As she searched for the operative, the mare did not notice the shy pony creeping up behind her. A heavy wood beam smacked into her head, and knocked her flat. She rolled onto her belly, blade raised to cut out that traitorous whelp's heart, but suddenly felt something cold and metallic pressed against her forehead. The cultist blinked to clear the haze from her eyes, and saw the black-armored earth pony standing above her. Next to him was the colt, who had knocked her blade down and was pinning it beneath a sheet of metal that had fallen from the catwalk. Beads of sweat ran down his face, and he was shivering in fear, but he still kept his body weight on the sheet of metal.

"We are the Bon Hadescream Organization," the operative said calmly, his tired voice stabilized and amplified by the technomagic in his black helmet. "Witch."

Blam!

A second after he had pulled the trigger, he wondered if perhaps interrogation might have been the better route. The operative loaded another few shells into his shotgun, and heaved a weary sigh. He really needed to get some rest. They were here to find out if these cultists were molding vampires, and this one seemed powerful enough to have been their leader. On the bright side, if she was the leader, then her death should throw a wrench into their production.

"S-sir?" the colt asked nervously.

"Speak." That was a bit curt, but at the moment the earth pony was struggling to convince himself that he should not down another caffeine and ginseng supplement.

"Thank you." The boy smiled, then glanced over his shoulder. "I... I was studyin' to be a doctor." On his flank was a cutie mark of a heart monitor. "Do you... think I could help your friends any?"

The operative looked the boy up and down, then pulled a red kerchief from a pocket on his armor and tied it neatly around the colt's neck. "Do not take that off. Do not stray more than five meters from me." He nodded toward the remains of the witch. "The cultists do not take clean shots. Are you sure you have the stomach for this?"

With a slow nod, the colt replied, "yes sir. Anything to help some heroes."

"Heroes?" the earth pony shook his head. "We are but operatives. We hold the line." They trotted toward a fallen pegasus, who was struggling to bandage a bloody wing. "If you stick around though, I'm sure you'll see some real heroes." Under his breath, he muttered, "or we'll all wind up dead in a blood pit."

The cream-caramel colored colt nodded, mishearing the stallion's statement. "You're right, she's lost a lot of blood, but she'll pull through it." His horn glowed softly as he took the bandage and wrapped the mare's wing.






"Blood for my blood pit," the vampire cackled, "skulls for my skull throne!" Her tri-barreled shotgun roared as she hosed the room with buckshot.

"Vinyl, you do not have a blood pit." The grey mare at her back took a quick breath and dropped three ghouls with precise lasbolts. To her complete lack of surprise, they stood back up, their wounds healing almost as fast as their vampiric masters'. "And if you did, it would certainly be against regulations. Also, think of the smell!"

With another maniacal laugh, the pale mare switched to incendiary rounds. Tongues of fire ripped from the barrels of her Scatterspell, the bane of any vampire, even herself. Fire was a threat to almost any creature, except perhaps a dragon. "It would smell delicious, Octy." A dining table burst into flame, skewering the vampires behind it with burning stakes. "And I'd have you stirring it with one of those huge mixing spoon-a-ma-bobs they use for the chocolate vats!"

"You," the sniper fired, "most certainly," she fired again, this time taking the ghoul's head off completely, "would not. Now, chocolate, that smells wonderful. Blood smells like metals, because there is-"

"Copper an' iron in it," the vampire licked her lips. "You gotta keep it fresh, though, if it starts decayin' it-"

Across the room, a four-legged pillar of flame screamed as only a creature of the night can, and hurled itself through a window. The rush of air as it fell put out some of the fire, but the sudden stop forty floors down was quite fatal to the vampire's damaged body. Almost as soon as it hit, a black construction vehicle rolled up next to the sidewalk, and two operatives started cleaning up the mess. Some civilians looked on in horror and surprise, but the ponies were wearing custodial uniforms, and they did put up nice orange safety cones. Perhaps the city's street sweepers really were that efficient...

"-starts to stink." Vinyl yawned. "Frack, gonna be sunrise in a few hours." She slowly lowered her shotgun and looked around. The entire ballroom on the fortieth floor of the Bella Roux Building lay in ruin. Glass shards from the chandeliers covered the floor, disoriented fireflies buzzed about, and the ornate wood panelling would never be the same again. Bodies lay everywhere, and ashes were strewn liberally over the tables and chairs, all that remained of the "immortals" who had come to feast tonight. The pale mare trotted to one still-twitching pony, rolled her over, put on her most terrifying smile, and let the ghoul scream for a full minute before shaking her. "C'mon, grow a spine, ya wuss!"

Octavia reloaded her lasgun and glanced about the room for survivors, but the few who could still move were in no state to fight back. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and felt her stomach grumble. Unfortunately, all the buffet tables had been upset, and none of them had contained anything truly filling. She tugged open a covered tray to find a selection of soft rolls, and with a guilty glance over her shoulder picked up two or three to much on. Killing monsters was hard work!

"If you don't stop screaming, I can't interrogate you!" Vinyl insisted. "Don't you want to be interrogated?" The pale mare tilted down her glasses. "Don't you know who I am? Magazine columnists fight to be interrogated by me!"

"Mosh..." the grey mare chewed quickly, embarrassed that she had forgotten her manners. "Those are interviews, Vinyl." Octavia sighed, and swallowed a mouthful of bread. She reached out for another, but pulled her hoof back. Then again, it would be a waste to leave good food to rot...

"Same difference, it's all about me either way!" The vampire laughed. "C'mon filly, gimmie a smile!"

A look of confusion spread across the mare's face, and her scream lessened in intensity. She was a ghoul, a servant of a vampiric master, bound to him by his vitae. It made her stronger, faster, and until tonight, unstoppable. The only cost was that she became addicted to her master's blood, but that was a small price to pay for everlasting beauty. Besides, he loved her. He said so. He was now strewn across three separate tables, having caught a burst of explosive slugs from the pale mare's shotgun when the two Assets first stormed into the ballroom. The grey mare had popped her with two lasbolts to the barrel, but that had healed quickly enough while she lay numb on the floor. The greater shock had been losing her beloved master. Yes, he had been cruel sometimes, but he still loved her. He said so. Every time after he whipped her, made her beg for his blood to mend the hurt, he said he loved her. That made it true. A soft whimper escaped her lips.

"Okay, that's better-"

Master was gone! The realization hit her harder than any lasbolt ever could, and she began to scream again. I'll get old, and ugly!

Vinyl pulled her headphones over her ears and winced. "Sheesh, girl. You're not trying out for a hair-metal band, get a grip!"

Meanwhile, Octavia glanced down and wondered where all of the rolls had gone. Most of the other items on the buffet were blood-based or ruined, this was a vampire gathering after all. Food was only there for their servants, since some of them liked to watch mortals eat. Anything aside from blood and flesh tasted like mush to most vampires, but chaos was the only truly common trait. The cellist wondered, not for the first time, if she counted as Vinyl's ghoul. The earth pony was not a vampire, and certainly not a mortal. She had taken a few bullets from the guards, but most of those had been stopped by the armor plating in her tan uniform. Those that had penetrated were quickly pushed back out and healed by her body, she merely had to take cover for a few moments. More worrying to her was that her healing seemed to accelerate if she made a skillful shot while injured. Even after two years, the Organization's doctors were not sure what Vinyl had done to her.

The screaming ghoul had begun to grate on the vampire's nerves. "Okay, you asked for it. I'm going to have to read your mind." She raised her front hooves to her forehead, and hummed as though entering a trance. Then a savage smile crossed her muzzle, and she grabbed the ghoul before she could get away. "By drinking all your blood!"

She struggled, but could not stop Vinyl from leaning down and sinking those sharp fangs into her pulsing jugular. Warm blood gushed into the vampire's mouth, and she moaned softly as she feasted upon the mortal's life. As delicious as it was, it was still merely a conduit. She reached through the pony's blood and into her mind, rooting about for some delectable tidbit of knowledge that would make the Queen Ant happy.

It was for naught. The ghoul knew nothing of value. Only images of torment, luxury, cruelty, and "kindness"... wait...

"Master, I discovered something!"

Vinyl teased the memory out, ripping at the mare's soul to loosen her resistance.

"The Lessers, they are moving again. I heard it from one of the Countess' ghouls, he told me that his master was entertaining an offer from one of the Lessers."

The "Lessers" were vampires who did not dance to the Elderati Council's code of conduct. Some were rampaging savages, but they rarely survived long. Others were extreme recluses, unwilling to play the game of favor-currying and petty politics that was the very cornerstone of Elderati power. Vinyl had even been called a Lesser to her face. Once. Well, more than once, but almost never by the same pony.

"They plan to move against you, Master. He said they had many strong ones of blood at their command."

"Really?" Had been the stallion's response. "And why, praytell, did he impart these secrets to you?"

"He... he wanted-"

"You let him touch you, hmm? You let him touch my property."

"Master, I- I-"

Vinyl winced in pain. She had delved too deep into the memory, and was feeling the ghoul's "reward" play out through her own nerves. She hissed in pain and rode it out, then finished the mare off with an aethereal snip. The vampire stood and wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth.

"A Lesser, huh?" She looked around the room. "Frack, this is starting to feel like hunting down that one git in Manehattan." The pale mare straightened her hat. "Heh... but I got backup this time." She looked across the room and saw a vampire lying on his side, trying to pull himself toward a bleeding corpse in hope of a drink.

Octavia reached for her communicator, then stifled a belch. Her cheeks turned pink with shame. She knew that she should not have eaten all those rolls, but... she had been hungry. The mare glanced down at her body, certain that she must resemble a hot air balloon, but she was still trim and fit. Every day, she trained with other operatives, trying to forge herself into a more perfect weapon. Her ears twitched up as she heard a strange noise from the other end of the ballroom. A pony with a stark white coat and lifeless red eyes staggered in from the kitchen entrance. The sniper took a breath, then turned her head slightly as she noticed another pony, almost identical, trot in through a side door. Another staggered into the ballroom from the little stage meant for an orchestra, and two more shambled in through the double doors she and Vinyl had entered by.

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. "Evenin' gents. Y'all are late to the party, but there's still some life to it." She yawned again, feeling flush with blood. "My name's Vinyl Scratch, and I'll be serving you all the steamin' hot wubs your frozen hearts could desire!"

One of the bleached ponies turned to look at her. Octavia saw that he had some kind of metal box tied around his neck. "Vinyl... Scratch?" warbled from the box. "Here?"

The DJ raised an eyebrow. "That's an aether-frequency radio if I've ever heard one." She half-closed one eye, then added, "A Golikov-twelve, if I ain't mistaken."

"Indeed," said a cheerful voice through the speaker box. "Well, you must be who you claim if you recognized that tinny warble right off the bat. And if you are here, I gauge by the lack of other noises that you have already killed all the Elderati."

"Yep."

"In that case, I must apologize for what is about to happen," the voice sounded genuinely sorry. Vinyl went ahead and reloaded her shotgun. "But I have no control, no kill-switch, no failsafe of any kind. I could not risk such a method being compromised."

Octavia stepped closer to her friend and whispered softly into the vampire's ear, "these look rather like the creatures the Lady wished for us to investigate." Bon Hadescream branches all around Equestria were reporting sightings of "feral vampires" in numbers too great to be sired by the normal means.

"I will say this, I do hope to speak with you again. I am an avid fan of your work." Little sparks began to pop from the box, and the final words were distorted. "Good luuuuuuuuck!"

The box clanged to the floor and exploded in a flash of light. The five strange ponies growled, and their eyes turned a more lively shade of red as their bodies swelled and grew. Vinyl leveled her shotgun and emptied a clip of buckshot into one, but the slugs barely slowed it down. Octavia dove out of the way as the beast smashed into her friend, tackling the neon-maned mare to the ground. Vinyl yelped in surprise and fought back, her hooves morphing once more into chromium claws, but for every hunk of flesh she carved out, there seemed to be another right in its place.

With a glance around the room, Octavia came to a simple conclusion. Their mission was accomplished. They had a lead on these monsters. That meant they could move to the next phase of the operation. She tapped her earpiece, dove beneath a table, and said, "Leaf, this is Sledgehammer-Two. We need extraction." The table started to crumble above her, and the grey mare ducked out of the reach of a rampaging monster. It seemed to have more rage than intelligence, and long trails of drool fell from its sharp teeth. Vinyl screamed in fury as the one she had been battling threw her across the room. She slammed into another of the bleached beasts, but it just picked her up and threw her down. The pale mare yanked out her tri-barreled shotgun and loosed a burst right into its face, but though the monster was leaking blood, it only staggered backwards a few steps before charging again.

"Immediate extraction," the grey mare emphasized, yanking a white phosphorus grenade from inside her uniform and hurling it across the room. She leapt over a table and kicked it back into the face of the monster behind her, slowing it for a second, then bounded over the one that had rampaged in front of her. They seemed almost confused, as though expecting an entire army to be here, but finding only two little ponies.

"Copy," a gruff voice replied. If he had followed it with stand by, she would have threatened to curve a lasbolt just for him as her last act. "Can you make it to a window?"

The earth pony swallowed hard. She did not care for heights unless there was something solid under her hooves. Still, as she slid between one of the bleached beasts' legs and shot it a few times in the underbelly for luck, Octavia knew there were not very many options open. "North side, middle of the ballroom. Seven seconds."

"Leaf copies, north side, six seconds. I'll be there." As a down payment on the promise, a window shattered. Octavia threw a glance at Vinyl, who had switched to incendiary rounds and managed to down one of the beasts, then the grey mare focused on the opening and ran. Her heart pounded, and the world slowed. She leapt over a table, sidestepped a crawling vampire, and ignored the roar of anger from the beast at her heels. The mission was a success. All that mattered now was the window. A bleached-white shape slid in front of it.

Octavia narrowed her eyes, pulled out her lasgun, and fired with one front leg while running. She kept the gun braced against her shoulder, and the sling's strap tight. It was hard, yes, but she had trained hard. She did not aim for its body, but for the eyes, the one weak point on any creature. Sure enough, the pain of a lasbolt to the retina agonized the monster for a second, and it toppled forward. She slung her lasgun to her back, bounded up the monster's flailing form, and launched herself out the window.

Brawaaaawaaaaaaaargh!

Do not look, do not look, do not look- she looked. The vampire that had been chasing her had launched itself out the window and was snatching at her tail. She saw its dull red eyes, and its malformed front hooves swiping within inches of her body. The mare looked forward, saw a black strand of hope dangling in the night, and grabbed it with all her might. Training kicked in, and she wrapped the rope between her cannons while holding tight with her fetlocks, securing herself with two points. She clung tight, then glanced back. Gravity had seized the pale beast, and she watched it tumble down to the pavement far below.

"That was close," said the gryphon flapping above her as he reeled in the rope tied around his armor.

"What about Sledgehammer-One?" Vinyl really must learn to use her codename more.

In answer to her question, the pale mare came flying out of another windowpane, and into a pair of ropes held between two pegasi. She stuck out her tongue at the beasts as they roared in anger.

Octavia breathed a deep sigh, and felt the cold night air swirl around her. The gryphon above her looked down. "Wanna tell me what those things are?"

"I do not know," she replied honestly. "But they need to die."

"Yep," he smiled, then clicked his voxlink. "Leaf to Swarm, both Assets are clear." The comms officer savored the moment, then noticed another of the monsters about to risk a jump. "Light 'em up!"

Tongues of boiling plasma ripped through the building from the south and east sides, consuming everything within. The brilliant blue-purple light and incredible heat swept out through the northwest windows, buffeting Octavia, but she held tight to the rope. It was a brief but incredibly intense storm of energy, a brutal display of power from weapons that could rarely fire more than a few shots before overheating. On occasion, they would even explode. These flaws were tolerated because only plasma weapons could deliver this kind of awe-inspiring force. They were sometimes called sun-guns, for old legends spoke of a time in the Great Crusade when Celestia imbued the weapons of her faithful with the power of her sun. Nothing was left of the ballroom but char and vapor. Fires began to lick up the outside of the building, but the pegasi heavy weapon teams slung their plasma cannons and pulled out foam sprayers before things could get out of hoof.

"That's gonna be one heck of a repair bill," the gryphon chuckled. "Good thing we're framing ARGUS for tonight's festivities."

Octavia nodded slowly, the images still seared into her retinas even though she had closed her eyes. "Thank you, Rollins."

The gryphon glanced down at her, then over at the vampire. "You know me. The Lady Bon Hadescream points, and I obey." He sighed. "That's all gryphons are good for, anymore. Takin' orders from ponies."

She smiled and closed her eyes, still holding tight to the rope. "I dare say... I'm almost getting used to this."

He rolled his eyes, and began to circle down toward a waiting AFV. "Just another night, eh?"
> We Didn't Start The Fire (Part I)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The grey mare stood on the streetcorner, eyes closed and cello in hoof. Sweet music flowed from her instrument, washing over those who walked by. Octavia swayed slightly as she played, her tan uniform dusted with ash and a roaring heat at her back. Her song was gentle, mindful that the sun would not rise for a few more hours, but still clear through the crackle of fire and hiss of pressurized water. To her left was a soaked huddle of red rags next to a shattered pair of purple glasses, the remnant of her best friend. To her right was a contingent of fireponies, working feverishly with black-armored operatives to quell the blaze and save those still inside. In front of her, a glum-faced gryphon directed traffic and squawked into his voxcaster unit. He probably sleeps with that box of wires and crystals, she thought.

Passerby saw these strange things, and some stopped for a closer look. On later reflection, they would not remember the unconventional equipment those ponies in black armor were stowing in their AFV, only a soft melody that seemed to carry them away from the scene. It did not drive them off, but rather filled their minds with pleasant thoughts of what they could be doing elsewhere. At its core, the song was pleading for them to remember the beautiful things of life, for they are so fleeting and easily lost. None would remember the streetcorner musician, only the raging inferno behind her, and the music that ushered them away.

That is the story of my life, Octavia thought to herself as another explosion ripped through the safehouse behind her. Smoke rose high in the sky. She heard the clatter of wheels as another burned operative was lumped onto a stretcher and shoved into their only AFV, and added a somber note for him. The story of my life... playing my cello while the world burns around me, searching for a moment of beauty in the chaos.

Fire could be so beautiful. She opened her eyes and saw it reflected in the windowpanes of the nearby buildings. It flickered and danced as though it were alive, with a will and a malevolence all its own rather than purely a natural phenomenon. The mare sighed and rolled her neck to the side, stretching it out. She had been playing for quite some time, but that was not why her body ached. The sniper had received a beating from one of those dull-eyed monsters. It was as though every city in Equestria had spawned a dozen from the sewers, and the Lady Bon Hadescream had responded with surgical force. Octavia yawned, careful not to disturb her song, and glanced down at the remains of her friend, curled up next to an empty water barrel. This was the first pause either of them had known for quite some time, as soon as one city was stabilized they were on a train to another.

It was a hard life, but a good one. This was where she belonged, where she was needed. This was what her father's training was good for, and she had many opportunities to use her own special talent. The operatives they reinforced were often weary, and though she was not the Angel of Death with a golden harp, Octavia was still able to bring some cheer with her music. She winced slightly, and shifted her weight from one hind leg to another. Wounds from one of those strange vampires lasted longer than those from mere bullets. One had gotten the drop on her, and proceeded to kick her about like a cat with a new ball of yarn. Standing orders for operatives were to kill the "bleachies" on sight, but the Lady Bon Hadescream had asked for her to capture one if at all possible. The grey mare was stronger than the beast, but it was faster than her, and possessed a sort of brutal cunning that kept it one step ahead of her shots. Octavia had finally decided that bringing it in still kicking was untenable when it knocked her to the ground and tried to force her sidearm under her chin.

That was why she had a splotch of red all over the front of her uniform. She had tried to clean off, but the bleachie's head had exploded like a grape when she shoved the barrel of the pistol up and beat it at its own game. Her pink bow-tie had barely survived. Rollins had spent the next few hours muttering some litany under his breath and performing arcane rituals with isopropyl alcohol and salt, but he had managed to salvage her beloved accessory. Yes, she had others, they were one of her little indulgences, but those were back in her catacomb underneath the Bon Hadescream Estate. Save for the one around her neck, all the bow-ties she had packed when they first set out from the castle were thoroughly ruined. She had given each of them a proper decommission with heartfelt mourning.

In the past eighteen hours, she had routed a small kidnapping ring, rescued a police officer from a gang of "moonshiners" who had really been brewing deadly neurotoxins, and slipped a sack of bits into a busking musician's case when nopony was looking. The cellist felt a smile creep across her muzzle as she hugged her instrument a little tighter against the early morning's chill. Vinyl had been slacking, as usual, asleep until nightfall. She claimed that she could march about in the sun if she felt like it, but the unicorn was rarely seen before the day's last rays retreated over the horizon. However, according to the comms reports, she had hopped out of her coffin and begun merrily slaughtering her way through whatever the branch commander had pointed her towards as soon as the moon rose. She had returned from that assignment before the grey mare had finished hers. It had been a long day for the grey mare, and Octavia had been looking forward to a shower.

The grey mare took a deep breath, and coughed on a stray piece of ash. Everything had been going so well until they returned to base. Her driver had just announced they had arrived back at the safehouse when the first explosion rocked the ground. For a moment, confusion had reigned. It was a situation that the Lady Bon Hadescream would have easily managed, but she was back at Central Command, filing papers and meeting with The Nine to justify the Organization's continued existence. So, as more explosions shattered the night and a burning mare in a red trenchcoat came flying out a third-story window, Octavia had turned to the highest ranking officer present and smiled expectantly. She was an Asset, not an Operative.

That officer was of course a certain gloomy gryphon, who had made a self-depreciating remark about how far the chain of command had fallen and issued a few very wise orders that had kept the fire contained until the red wagons with wailing sirens pulled up. Choosing to lead by example, he was the first one out of the AFV, which was festooned with barrels and ladders to give the impression that it might be a perfectly innocent repair vehicle. He had snagged one of those large barrels, unscrewed the top with his claws, then swooped above the burning vampire and drowned the flames with a deluge of water. Vinyl had gone from rolling about to lying very still, her scorched epidermis hidden by the remains of her trenchcoat. After a moment, her hat twitched in what might have been a sign of thanks.

"Curses," the gryphon had said with a hint of a smile. "I thought that was fuel."

Octavia had been standing close enough to hear, and had decided that he was trying to be funny. His order to her had been simple. "I need a diversion. Something to keep civvies from rubbernecking while we clean this up."

That was why she stood on the streetcorner, playing her cello. Music was her gift, and so she gave it to others with all her heart. She ushered them away faster than any vague threat or loud bullhorn could. Her gift was peace, the calming whisper that this is not your problem, this is not your suffering, this is not your load to bear. Music was a language that spoke to the heart, not the mind. Go to your home, enjoy your life. There is nothing to see here but a fire, and as beautiful as it is, your heart longs to be home.

She had done that for the past... oh, three songs, perhaps an hour? Time was such wibbly-wobbly stuff when she was performing, all that mattered was the music. The mare glanced behind herself, tail still swaying in time with the music. They had finally gotten the advantage over the blaze. She smiled, pressing a happy overtone into her music, and looked upward. The moon was beautiful tonight, as were the stars, but she still felt so very cold. Why had there been an explosion at the safehouse? Octavia pressed the thought down. It was not her place to ask, and nopony else knew any more than she did. The truth would come out, one way or another. She glanced down and saw that the mess of red rags had crawled into the overturned water barrel. The grey mare reached out through that subtle empathic conduit that she and the vampire shared... but felt only pain from the other side. It was strange, usually Vinyl came bouncing back from even the most ghastly of injuries, but the vampire seemed quite content to huddle and shiver. She had just finished mulching through a list of enemies, and had done it in record time if the reports were to be believed... surely she was not lacking for strength?

The grey mare bit her lip and tried to focus on her music. Vinyl was her friend. Her savior. Vinyl was always there for her, well... mostly always. If she needed something, anything, Octavia would gladly give it. She swallowed hard. Those thoughts were because of the friendship between herself and the vampire, not because she was just as much of a marionette as those vitae-addicted ghouls... right?

Octavia pushed those thoughts away too. Discipline kept her on task. Regardless of what she was, or why Vinyl was pouting in a tin can instead of getting up and lending a hoof, she had orders. Good orders. She would follow them, and take her peace from the knowledge that she was serving Harmony. Her cello was the start of a babbling brook that urged all those who heard it to follow the stream back to their homes. The fireponies with their thick helmets were somewhat insulated from the effects of her song, but she noticed that even they paused now and again. For the operatives, this was their home, burning with some fire of unknown origin that had taken many of their comrades away.

Comrades. The grey mare wondered why that word seemed to stick in her mind. She glanced across the street. Her eyes turned cold, and she did not see the beautiful fire reflecting in the windows, the curious ponies trotting past, or even Rollins yelling at a carriage to clear the intersection. She saw only a frowning face that would shame even the grumpy gryphon, printed on a poster in an alleyway. Below it was the slogan: ARGUS Watches. ARGUS Knows.





Officially, ARGUS was a "private security company", bidding their services to understaffed police departments, nervous elected officials, and wealthy businessmares. There was very little separation between their "legitimate" activities and their monster hunting. The eradication of cults was sold to the public as "war on drugs". Their quiet policy of "disappearing" the impoverished and unlucky was whitewashed as "war on poverty". Whenever someone dared to question the thin veil of lies, they became the target of a "war on fear". War. War. War. ARGUS lived on war. Well, war and Council funding. The nobles of the Nine rather liked the idea of a private military-industrial complex under their command, and ARGUS was far more pliable than a silly old candy company. The Bon Hadescream Corporation had outdated things like morals and business principles, while ARGUS had glorious promises of a future lurking just beyond reach. Those ends justified all the shady acts, and nopony questioned too deeply where the vast sums that flowed into ARGUS' coffers were sourced from... or, perhaps more troubling to the grey mare's heart, where all their sad-eyed "soldiers" were recruited.

Octavia played her sweet music and thought again about that word. Comrades. Where had she seen it? The mare closed her eyes and thought again. She was tired, as they all were. The fire was waning now, she could feel the heat at her back ebbing away, and the sirens had long ago fallen silent. All that remained was the buzz of the city and her song. She would help them haul Vinyl to... wherever Rollins would mark as the fallback point, then find a bunk and rest herself. Maybe she had seen it on a shipping crate or something. Celestia's dawn would come, and when she awoke somepony would have figured everything out. All she needed to do was play her cello. One breath, in and out... mmmm...

Screeeeeeecch.

She opened one eye. A Chimera had skidded to a stop in the middle of the intersection, and ponies were marching out of it in lock-step. No attempt at subterfuge had been made, the AFV had a twin-linked heavy machine gun mounted on a pintle turret and a rotary cannon installed next to its driver's viewport. On the side facing her was painted an angry eye inside a cogwheel. Octavia took a deep breath. "Oh, bother." She saw Rollins mutter something far less refined as he was surrounded by ponies toting assault rifles.

Several of the operatives exchanged nervous glances as three more Chimeras pulled up, each painted with the same all-seeing eye. Sure enough, a proud young pegasus with a high-peaked hat bearing the ARGUS insignia marched down the ramp of the first Chimera. He strutted up to the gryphon, who had given up on directing traffic since anything driving toward the intersection was met by a line of heavily armed soldiers in thick greatcoats. Rollins heaved a sigh and put on his most diplomatic smile.

"Comrade!" the pegasus practically shouted into the comms officer's face. Octavia continued playing, but shifted the purpose of her song from move along, move along to the sun shines upon all, friendship and sisterhood. Warm, rich overtones drifted across the intersection, touched with snippets from centuries old anthems. She heard a clunk to her left, and saw that Vinyl had pulled herself completely into the barrel. Meanwhile, the fireponies traded nervous looks with the few ARGUS soldiers standing around their red wagons. The sniper looked around the intersection, and assessed just how badly they were outnumbered. Worse, only a few of the operatives had weapons of any kind, while ARGUS had enough firepower to level the entire block...

Dear Celestia. Judging by the look on Rollins' face, they might actually try it. Octavia glanced at the barrel containing her best friend, but still felt only pain and silence. She looked back at the street and saw Rollins growl at the pegasus, who sneered right back. A few of the operatives had sidled closer to her. There was little cover, if ARGUS decided to open fire they would all be dead within a minute regardless of where they hid. The grey mare was still struggling to understand why. Certainly there was rivalry between the two organizations, but you could not just shoot ponies dead in the street and expect nobody to care... right?

"Backstabbing scumbags," one of the operatives behind her muttered. "We paid them up front, too."

Octavia's eyes widened, and she turned ever so slightly while still performing. "Paid them?"

"Shipment of weapons." The operative lowered his head. "They were liquidating some old gear... and it was cheaper than our own manufacturing costs. Especially since we lost those workshops before you got here."

"I thought," the cellist asked softly, not wishing to attract the soldiers' attention, "there was an embargo on trade with ARGUS?" Ever since Manehattan almost two years ago, the Bon Hadescream Organization had frozen almost all relations with the overbearing army-for-hire.

"Leases, contracts, combined-forces agreements, yeah." The stallion nodded sadly. "Doesn't apply to one-off transactions... and BRANCHCOM decided it was a good deal on some hardware we needed."

The grey mare continued to play her instrument. "Where is your commander?"

He sighed. "We found her in there... wasn't pretty." The stallion stepped closer to her, having seen the Asset in action before. "It was just rifles, hard ammo, and some explosives. Nothing fancy, they said they had better gear coming in and needed to clear room."

"I rather think they were perfectly honest with you," she replied. "But the room they wanted to clear was in our safehouse, not their warehouse." The grey mare glanced down at her friend again. There was a remote possibility that this was not sabotage, but rather entirely due to the pale mare's meddling with a crate of freshly-arrived high explosives.

"Spiii...der," echoed from inside the barrel. The voice was raspy and weak. "Spider in the... crate. Jumped on me."

Oh no. Octavia resisted the urge to press a hoof to her face, and continued to play. Vinyl, you idiot-

"We didn't order one of those," said the operative, puzzled. He looked into the barrel while remaining two meters away from its mouth. The stallion had seen Vinyl in action before as well.

"Those what?" Octavia asked, puzzled. Perhaps Vinyl had not been making a play-fort with blocks of nitroglycerin.

"Spider-drones, they're self-animated target-sensing automatons." Seeing the blank expression on the cellist's face, he elaborated. "It's a new ARGUS pattern, the drones have four little legs. They skitter along the floor in search of a target. When they find one, they speed up and try to get within lethal range before detonating." He shivered. "But who's crazy enough to trust a suicidal machine-spirit with friend or foe recognition?"

The metal barrel rolled slightly, and Octavia favored the operative with a particularly humorless look. "I do not know, who would be crazy enough to slip one into a shipment in the hope that it would blow up their unwanted allies' base?"

He looked at the ground. "What do we do, ma'am?"

"I'm an Asset, not an officer." She looked over at Rollins, who had a cheaply assembled pistol poking into the front of his armor and an overconfident pegasus barking into his face.

"Do they expect us to run?" another operative asked.

"No." Octavia glanced to the side at the fireponies who were standing awkwardly in front of a line of armed ARGUS soldiers. "They expect us to die." She thought for a moment, then realized the ham-hooved brutes honestly could pull it off. Shoot everyone, burn the bodies, intimidate or replace the fireponies to have them corroborate the story. Yes, they could get away with it. As to why... she did not understand the politics, but ARGUS seemed to operate under the idea that they alone should protect the citizens of Equestria from the things that lurked beyond the firelight of civilization. Perhaps they needed no reason, only opportunity.

Her instrument case was on the ground next to her. She measured the distances with a glance, prioritized targets. If she put her cello away and drew her rifle, she could kill the pegasus before he shot Rollins... but she would not be able to put down all four gunners on the Chimeras before they opened fire. Then there were the mobs of soldiers to worry about, all heavily armed and drilled to think that accuracy was something that happened to other ponies. She could take a few rounds, but her concern was not her own survival.

If only the Lady Bon Hadescream was here... she thought. But the grey mare knew she might as well wish for Princess Celestia to stop by and pat Rollins on the head. She had always found it curious that, if the Bon Hadescream Organization was the only secret society truly authorized and enstated by Celestia Herself, why they did not get a little more respect. The sniper took a deep breath and cleared her mind. Such questions were not profitable at this moment. The moment she saw the ARGUS members ready their weapons, they would all become acceptable targets.

 Octavia glanced back at the operatives, then down at the water barrel. Raw power was not on their side this time. This was all too neat to be a coincidence, whatever had been in that spider-thing must have been meant to destroy Vinyl... or me. Twelve ARGUS soldiers were standing between her little knot of operatives and the fireponies, and they had just clicked off their safeties. The pegasus with the high-peaked hat laughed oafishly into the gryphon's face. Rolins tolerated it with a fatalistic frown, but Octavia saw his wings twitch. Octavia drew her song to a close, and bowed her head. "Pick your shots, make your peace, and hold for my signal," she whispered to the operatives, who nodded in understanding. They would not go gently, that was practically the abridged motto of the Bon Hadescream Organization.

> We Didn't Start The Fire (Part II)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Fortunately for the operatives, a dull-eyed vampire had also decided to not go gently, and had led its pursuers on a grand chase through the city. Its ragged tail was scorched and it had a blade of blessed silver through the gut, but still it ran, unknowing and uncaring where its hooves took it so long as the things that followed were not there. When it first awoke into the world, the booming voice behind the bright lights had said that it was created to inspire fear, but those things had no fear. Only fire, horrible, horrible fire. The bane of any vampire, even itself.

So, when it ran past the ARGUS poster and out of the alleyway, it did not care how many greatcoat-clad soldiers turned toward it with their noisy guns. They understood fear, the beast could smell that sweet scent as soon as it sank its teeth into one of them and the others hosed the area in fright. Their shots were wild, their wills weak, they were not soldiers but a mob filled with terror. The bleached vampire was fast, that was its birthright, faster than they could follow with their poorly-made guns. It tore through one, then another, taking only quick gulps of blood so as not to sacrifice its only advantage. The survivors turned and ran in terror rather than face its fangs. ARGUS called its infantry soldiers, but they were more truly conscripts kept in check by fear.

That fear was maintained by their leaders. The pegasus flapped his wings and roared out a command, punctuating it by firing a few rounds from his pistol into the air. The Chimera gunners opened up, pounding the asphalt around the vampire with heavy slugs, and even its speed could not save it from that hail of fire. It came apart as bullets ripped into its body from three different directions, reducing the vampire to shreds along with a few ARGUS members too slow to escape the barrage. When the gunners ceased fire, six bodies lay on the ground. The pegasus nodded proudly, blew a coil of smoke from his pistol, and landed. Well, that was another feather in his cap. Now, to liquidate these bothersome candymakers and report back...

Unfortunately for the officer, that vampire had not been alone. Behind him had been seven more of his strain, all running scared. They poured out of the alleyway and sank their fangs into the first things they saw. The pegasus roared at his soldiers, ordering them into living walls between the monsters and the Chimera gunners, but too late. The bleached beasts were already among the mobs of ARGUS members, teeth ripping and tearing. They fought with a frenzy only known by creatures caught between certain death and and the hope of escape, while the soldiers were hemmed in by their comrades and fired wild shots. One of the beasts lept atop a Chimera to tear into the gunner's throat. Hot blood spilled down the side of the AFV, and the roar of its twin-linked machine gun fell silent.

While the pegasus tried to reassert his authority and direct his minions, Octavia and her operatives had been busy clubbing down the mob of armed ponies holding the firefighters at gunpoint. The grateful civilians ran for their wagons and fled, providing yet another distraction. As soon as the pegasus had turned his back, Rollins had zipped into the one Bon Hadescream AFV and ignited the engine. None of this was audible over the whine of the heavy machine guns and chatter of lesser automatic fire, but all the operatives knew that as soon as the vampires were dead ARGUS would waste no time trying to add them to the tally. They almost made a clean escape, but just as Octavia hauled the last black-armored candymaker through the rear hatch and Rollins stomped on the gas, an ARGUS Chimera rolled right in front of them.

The street fell silent, save for the ringing echo of gunfire and the moaning of wounded ponies. All eight of the vampires lay in tatters, alongside many ARGUS members. Many of their comrades had sick expressions on their faces, but far more had simply shifted back from terror to a hollow-eyed stare. To object was to be disciplined, or "disappear" as an example. ARGUS could always get more recruits. Nopony asked what Princess Celestia thought of such things. She lived in Canterlot, with the beautiful ponies. She did not care what happened to the lowest of the low. ARGUS offered food, shelter, and purpose. Once a pony put on the greatcoat to cover his cutie mark, he wore it until death. ARGUS offered equality, fraternity, and prosperity. As they remembered these things that had been drilled into them, even those with sickly expressions formed back with their comrades. Better to blend in, to keep one's head down, and hope that your luck would hold. To stick up was to be hammered down.

As for the operatives of the Bon Hadescream Organization, their time had run out. Rollins' eyes searched the driver's compartment, then the front viewport, then he turned to look back into the passenger compartment and out through the open rear hatch. He found a map and a few files of information, a sheet of metal with a cogwheel-eye symbol staring back through the viewport, and a few wounded Operatives looking at the floor. Octavia stood at the back hatch, her hoof just above the button to close it. Their eyes met for a moment. The other end of the street was blocked by another Chimera, otherwise the gryphon would have thrown the AFV into reverse and plowed through the mob. ARGUS had blockaded the other two lanes of the intersection just as thoroughly, more by accident than anything else. The Chimera drivers had instinctively backed away from the massacre to ensure their gunners had clear angles of fire on the vampires.

"Sorry I slowed you down..." the last operative she had helped in said. His left fetlock was wrapped with gauze and a nasty scorch mark ran down one side of his armor. "Should have left me behind."

"You're half right," Rollins said glumly. "Keep you, leave the barrel of evil." He brightened for a moment. "We don't have much except each other. We keep faith with one another, that's the whole point of Harmony." Outside, another Chimera's engine growled as the pegasus ordered it to move. "We all know what we're fighting for, and every one of us has a place on the Spire. This is our glory, to die forgotten, but to have died knowing that we did our all." A smirk crossed his face. "That we are worth killing."

Octavia felt a cold chill run down her spine. As motivational speeches went it was poor, but as she looked over the wounded candymakers in black armor, she could think of few better things to say. One of the operatives lying on the floor, half-conscious from pain medication and medi-gel, laughed. "They... they're terrified of us," she rasped.

"So terrified they brought an army," the communications officer replied. "An' even then, that almost wasn't enough."

Outside, the pegasus grinned, and was about to give the order to bombard these troublesome candymakers with rotary cannon fire. The honor of expunging these unponies from the records of history was his, and though they would have to track down those firefighters for thought restructuring, he was certain now that he would return in glory. That promotion was almost within his grasp. To ensure no further surprises could yank this prize out from under his nose, he had stationed a Chimera and a ring of his best-trained soldiers around that infernal alleyway. The officer cleared his throat, adjusted his hat, and took a deep breath. This was a fateful order, one that must be given with the proper flair.

The word was upon the tip of his tongue when, for the third time, he was interrupted by something from the alleyway. It was not a Warphound, or a pack of lycans, or even an angry dragon roaring like a king of the monsters, but it still gave him just as much pause. Out of the narrow passage, the sconces mounted on their backs casting shadows on the pockmarked pavement, trotted three Imparters of the Educarchy in splendid wargear. Golden chains held their battle robes tight against their bodies, but as those robes swayed one could see technomystical circuits glimmering across the armor underneath. Each mare wore a stiff-necked collar fastened with a brass brooch in the shape of the Icon Celestia, and each carried an innocent-looking weapon that could best be described as a thermite-thrower. Their eyes burned with righteous fury, and small strips of parchment inscribed with wise teachings or affidavits of purity had been affixed to their armor with red wax.

All of the ARGUS members near the alley took an involuntary step backward, and a few dropped to their knees. Their commander landed and swallowed hard. He could not simply order his soldiers to open fire, a third of those well-trained ponies had received their education from Educarchy Scholas before taking up the ARGUS greatcoat. Furthermore, certain parties would care if he killed three Imparters. They were well-respected educators of tomorrow's great leaders, sworn protectors of knowledge and order, but most importantly they were well-funded by generations of grateful graduates.

Octavia patted Vinyl's metal refuge, which she had hauled into the AFV along with her cello case, and looked out through the rear hatch. From this angle, she could see little more than the way the Imparters' sconces cast huge flickering shadows of one another over the nearby buildings. Her personal experience with the Educarchy was rather limited, consisting chiefly of a renegade Professor-turned-vampire ruining the most wonderful night of her life before threatening to rape and murder her. Before that, the kind lawyer who had liquidated her parents' estate had offered to put her through one of their musical schools when she came into his care, but she had respectfully declined. In her service to the Bon Hadescream Organization, she had crossed paths with their militant division and knew they were fierce fighters, but the grey mare did not understand why their appearance had given ARGUS pause.

"Hades." Rollins, having lived in the world of shadow wars nearly his entire life, did. "We might just make it out of this alive."

She turned to look at him, surprised at his optimism. "Why?"

He grinned, and stood up from the drivers' seat. "Witnesses."

The three Imparters stepped forward. One drew her thermate-thrower, and with a quick jet of fire incinerated two vampiric corpses. The other two waved at a few of the kneeling ARGUS soldiers, who heeded their commands to form a small pile of the bullet-riddled undead. Their commander said nothing, but took note of their faces. He would have to administer discipline later. Regulations said that he should correct them now and reassert his authority, but the pegasus remembered that he had gotten this position because his predecessor was unwise enough to challenge an Educarchy Inquisitor.

The ARGUS members worked quickly, some helping to move the vampire remains while others collected the bodies of their own fallen. They folded them into their greatcoats, an ARGUS cost-cutting measure, and set the bundles in neat little rows. One of the Imparters said a few words over their departed comrades, which seemed to endear the mares even more to the edgy soldiers. Twin jets of thermate torched the pile of vampiric refuse and made a horrible mess of the pavement, but soon nothing remained of the monsters. The lead Imparter patted each of the helpful ponies, said a few kind things, and then bid them return to their formation. Then her eyes turned to their leader.

"Pardon me, gonna go get m'self killed," Rollins said as he slipped past Octavia and started out the hatch. He paused, then dropped a lid over the barrel Vinyl still lurked within and made sure it was on tight. "Don't wait up." The gryphon smiled at the three Imparters and moved to meet them just before they reached the ARGUS leader. After a few words and an animated gesture or two, each mare gave him a respectful nod. Their leader asked something, then frowned at his response, but the gryphon seemed to smooth it over with a bow of his head. As if on cue, the pegasus stormed over and blustered at them.

Rollins gasped, then took a step back as if hurt by the pegasus' words. He bowed his head again, and Octavia noticed him make an odd gesture with his tail. He caught her eye, winked, then flicked his tail again. On impulse, she pulled her cello case onto her back and trotted outside, just in time to hear the pegasus' voice rise.

"...harboring enemies of the state, and endangering civilian lives with their recklessness!" He pointed an accusatory hoof at the gryphon. "ARGUS was only conducting itself with the most noble of intentions, seeking to contain such behavior before it could spread further!"

The lead Imparter tucked a stray lock of her blond mane back with the rest, and raised an eyebrow at Rollins. "Does he speak truly? Does thine Organization harbor monsters, enemies of Her Solar Majesty, and defilers of knowledge?"

With a weary sigh, the comms officer replied, "the charge is technically valid. I myself am of unworthy blood, as you can see." It burned his tongue to say such a thing, for he was proud of his gryphon heritage, but he knew that would heal quicker than thermate burns. "As you may know, the Bon Hadescream Organization has been faced with many grave challenges, and so we have accepted those who are pure of heart but less so of body."

"The road to destruction is paved with compromise, and many are those who walk it," intoned the two Imparters who stood behind their leader.

She nodded, and narrowed her eyes. "Thy kind was sanctified by Her Solar Majesty for their service in the Great Crusade, but what others doth thy banner harbor?" Her thermate-thrower hung at her side, ready in an instant to immolate.

Rollins waved a claw at Octavia. "She is impure, and has been touched by those who abhor Her Solar Majesty's light."

The mare glanced at him in disbelief. Did he mean to sacrifice her to save his own furry tail? The lead Imparter stepped closer and glared at the grey mare. Octavia resisted the urge to step back, but could not slow the pounding of her heart.

"Victoria," Rollins said, using the name that the Bon Hadescream Organization had issued her as an alias. "Smile at the nice Imparter."

She glanced at him, then forced her lips to part and the corners of her mouth to turn up. The blonde mare reached out and turned her head from side to side, then poked her with the thermate-thrower. "She hides the taint well."

He nodded. "Her heart is pure, it was not her fault that she was touched by a minion of chaos. She was a victim who fell prey to a monster, not a spineless thrall seeking immortality." All of that was technically true.

"How certain are thou that she serves Harmony with all her heart?" The Imparter tapped the ground with a power-armored hoof. "Hatred breeds in the dark shadows of doubt."

The comms officer bowed his head again, then leaned over to Octavia. "Would you happen to know any classical pieces by great Educarchy composers?"

It was rather like asking an accountant if she could add single digit numbers. Throughout history, orchestras and choirs had always been the Educarchy's preferred form of music. An orchestra demanded many individuals reading from the same music, and a choir required all its members to sing in unity. Many of the greatest composers had been educated in Educarchy Scholas. The cellist had never attended one of those gargoyle-studded halls of learning, but she knew many of the songs performed in them by heart. Beginning to understand the gryphon's scheme, the mare blushed innocently as she took out her cello. Best to let the audience underestimate her.

Octavia started with a warm, resonating set of notes straight from Songstress Cheered Heart's Third Sonnet of Sunshine, and moved to the more grim Thunder of Wise Wings by the much acclaimed Composer-General Quicksweep. Almost losing herself in the music to the point that she forgot she was quite literally playing for her life, the grey mare shifted to the controversial but undeniably talented Immolatrix Auburn Anthem's Sound Doctrine Dispels Doubt. The symphony was intended for two cellos, but she managed to make it work by herself. Her father had always abhorred the Educarchy's music, for reasons he never bothered to explain, which made it all the sweeter to his daughter's ears.

Rollins had a secret. He liked few things more than seeing a stuck-up pony brought low by his or her own pride. Perhaps it was simply the predator in his soul, for a gryphon was half-eagle and half-lion, or perhaps it was his personal indulgence. He loved to see those with haughty thoughts and vain deeds topple like a decrepit statue. It was all the sweeter if the humbling came from a modest source. Perhaps it was simply his way of replacing the thrill of the hunt, that horror in the eyes of the prey when it knows it has been caught. It was the closest he could get, since his diet rarely ventured beyond that of a pony's. So, while the grey mare provided some wonderful music, the gryphon rarely glanced at her. His eyes were on the faces of everypony else, but he kept his own under careful control. It would not do to spoil the moment by breaking out in a sly grin, even though his body was raging with victorious endorphins.
> We Didn't Start The Fire (Part III)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	She probably did not need to carry on with her cello for nearly a third of an hour, but Rollins figured that unless it started raining she could play until the girls with power armor and heavy flamers got bored. When she finally brought the music to a close after seventeen minutes and bowed her head to refocus, absolute silence filled the intersection. The songs she had played on the streetcorner were light and soothing, designed to convey a mood rather than be performed for their own sake. She had whipped them up on the spot, borrowing from others' work and improvising rather like a DJ, but musicians had been doing that since long before "wubs" were conceived. What the grey mare had just completed was a performance of grand old music worthy of a full concert hall, but she had made do with the blockaded intersection.

The cellist looked up with slightly flushed cheeks and smiled hopefully at the lead Imparter. If she was to die, at least she had gotten to play for an audience first. A real audience, who could appreciate her gift. Before the blonde mare could speak, the pegasus stepped between them, brandishing his sidearm and seizing the moment as the ARGUS Little Red Book mandated.

"Allow me, glorious sister of the Educarchy." He leveled the pistol at Octavia's head. The sniper idly noted that it was made of cheap sheet metal and had only the most elementary of trigger runes. She almost felt insulted to be threatened by so crude of a weapon, but knew that it mattered very little at point-blank range. Remember, my daughter. You will face idiots, not equals, but an idiot with power will often be more dangerous. She steadied her breathing, and filed the memory away once more. "The Will of the Council of Nine is that Equestria be free of all discordant taint, and enforcing the Will of the Council is ARGUS' absolute duty!"

"If thou pulls the trigger, I will make a pyre of thee before all thy men, for thou will have harmed one who most certainly has the favor of Her Solar Majesty." The Imparter blinked a few times and cleared her throat. Behind her, the two other members of her team had donned their helmets to cover their own eyes. "Not even from the lips of foals have I heard such sweet music."

Rollins nodded humbly, then decided to twist the knife. He really hated being yelled at by ponies, the Lady Bon Hadescream excepted, and the pegasus had gotten spittle in his feathers. "We have wounded," he did not add that they were all in stable condition or doped up on medi-gel, "and most of us are exhausted from the night's battles. We were trying to relocate, but ARGUS arrived..."

"You cannot be fooled by such a simple thing as music!" The pegasus jabbed a hoof at the grey mare. "She has consorted with the discordant pigdogs, and we have reports of even more disgusting monsters who lurk among their ranks! The whole of their Organization must be purged, there is no-"

"To call music simple is to deny its might. To deny its might is to deny truth." The Imparter stepped forward and glared the pegasus down. "To deny truth based in sound doctrine is to open thy mind to the blackness of lies, and that is the sure path to ruination. This one of earth has revealed to us her soul." She turned to look at Rollins, then bowed her head. "Go in peace, operatives of the Ancient Organization... but know that we watch all for corruption." The Imparter gestured toward the milling mobs of ARGUS soldiers, many still spellbound by the grey mare's performance. Octavia blushed, then meekly waved at one who blew her a kiss. "And the influence of the Educarchy is both deep and wide."

"Thank you, Sister-Imparter," the gryphon nodded. "May you and yours walk in wisdom, and find the truths you seek." He smiled impishly at the pegasus, then practically drug Octavia back to the AFV. The communications officer clambered into the driver's seat, waited impatiently for the ARGUS Chimera to rumble out of the way, and floored the accelerator.

After a few moments and a few kilometers, he accepted that they probably would not be followed and blasted halfway to Canterlot. Rollins let out a very long sigh, then shrugged off his voxcaster, set it next to the seat, and twisted some dials. While the machine-spirits sang in warbling tones as they searched for another signal, he glanced over his shoulder. "You can let the sealed evil in a can out now, if you want." Had the vampire made a sudden recovery and then set her cold, black heart on shaking hooves with the Educarchy, he was fairly certain that the Imparters would have gladly melted the entire intersection.

Octavia stood in the little portal between the driver's compartment and the AFV's cramped hold. Two badly burned ponies lay on the floor, thick coats of medi-gel slathered over their bodies. The rest of the survivors were in little better shape. One was doped with painkillers and staring curiously at what used to be her left hind leg. After a moment of consideration, the grey mare decided that Vinyl seemed happy enough where she was. The vampire had acted like this a few times before, but only after receiving wounds that would have atomized a lesser creature. She sighed, realizing that she would have to pour some blood packs into the barrel and hope that perked her friend up. They would just have to get back to the safehouse and check the medical bay... Oh. She glanced down at the driver, then settled into the other seat in the front of the AFV.

She was very quiet, but her eyes never moved off of the driver. Rollins knew what she was waiting for him to say. "We regroup, and try to consolidate what we can." He swerved to the right, the motorized AFV barrelling past a traditional horse-drawn carriage.

The city was waking up, ponies trotting out of their houses or apartments to carry on their lives. All of them thought that the biggest problem in the world was if their favorite sports team could win the big game tonight, and wouldn't it be grand if they could put a few more bits away for retirement this month. The headlines on their newspapers spoke of new railroad lines and grand feats of technomagery, hallmarks of a world that lived in peace and freedom. No eyes followed the speeding AFV. Why should they look, it was nothing more than a service vehicle. Moving rather fast though, but that just meant somepony else was getting an early start of it this morning. Oh, a building had burned down or something, quite the sad thing to hear about. Noisy too, but those brave fireponies had put out the blaze, good show!

Rollins sighed. The act of driving an armored automobile was as natural to him as flying. He had learned as soon as he was large enough to reach the controls. That was the kind of childhood one had growing up in Camp Pendulum. He took another deep breath. "And we hope that I'm not the highest ranking officer left in the whole city." The gryphon drummed his talons on the controls, then murmured something inaudible.

"You did well, Rollins," Octavia smiled at him. "Thank you."

"I'm communications. Not tactical command," he grumbled. "Hades, in gryphon years, I'm barely old enough to vote... oh, wait, that's right." The communications officer laughed bitterly. "Gryphons don't have representative government, we just beat the tar out of one another to pick a king."

"You do not live in the Gryphon Kingdom. You were born under Celestia's sun." The grey mare knew this was how he bled off stress. They had worked together for almost two years, and Octavia knew that the Lady Bon Hadescream trusted him even more than she trusted her. "We survived. That is what matters."

A sly grin crossed his beak. "Yeah... and hey, we were worth killin', eh?" He kept his eyes on the road, but a horrible memory from before he was even able to fly flickered before his eyes. Rollins pushed it away. Everyone had baggage, and Pendulum had swung it out of him. Mostly. I can still smell the blood. I can still hear that voice. He swallowed hard and clenched the controls tighter. That memory was what pushed him. Every operative had something to fight for. His was the reason he grew up in Pendulum instead of a happy home.

Octavia blinked. "I... suppose so, yes." She did not understand why the gryphon seemed to perk up at that idea. "Rollins-"

"Lieutenant Rollins," he smirked. "Asset." The comms officer kept a straight face for a moment, then started laughing, "or you can call me worm in the dirt, it's about the same as far as ranks go."

She shook her head and sighed as he braked, then slewed the AFV around a particularly slow moving wagon. "I have seen you order entire branches around, Lieutenant Rollins." Yes, he could be a jerk, but he was a smart jerk. Neither of them were particularly lucid at the moment. Both knew they had escaped for a moment, but were still in far more trouble than either wanted to think about. In the troop compartment, she could hear the operatives chuckling as they shared jokes. They had survived. The mind needed a way to cope.

"Ah, no you haven't." He snickered. "You've seen me enforcing the will of the Lady Bon Hadescream when I was issued special authority to do so. I'm just a conduit for her wishes." Rollins glanced to the side and winked. "You are the big hero."

The grey mare poked him in the shoulder. "I am a cellist. Nothing more."

"And nothing less," the gryphon retorted. Silence hung between them for a moment, then he slowed the AFV to a stop at a light. With a sigh, he realized that they could not put it off any longer. "We're noosed. ARGUS wouldn't have pushed like that if they weren't planning to take the city." He tapped the voxpack. "I haven't gotten an active signal from any of the other outposts, or on-duty teams. My long-distance pack was back in that burned building, so we can't get a signal out... and ARGUS is going to have the train station locked down before we even get there."

Octavia shook her head. "They cannot just shoot us in public."

Rollins rubbed his forehead. "They don't have to. They'd just bomb the train." He raised a claw. "Yes, I know who runs the rail lines, and yes they would get in big trouble, but I think once that officer gets back to ARGUS HQ, he's going to be motivated to risk anything." He took a breath, and glanced up at the still-red light. "The city's lost. I'm calling it. That means we need to preserve as much value as possible."

The Asset took a breath, and leaned back in her seat. She did not know if the past twenty-four hours had been horrible or wonderful. There had been music and victory, but also so much pain and loss. "The skyport, then. We should be able to charter a-"

"Nope." For the same reason as the train station.

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "Then... what?"

He kept his eyes on the road as the light turned green. "You and the bloodsucker are worth more to the Organization than the rest of us put together. You two are the reason ARGUS hit us so hard at the safehouse."

"One of the operatives mentioned a spider-"

"-drone. Yeah. That's what I thought." He rubbed his forehead with the back of a claw. "We lost an outpost two months back. Received a crate that supposedly was full of new pots and pans they had ordered from a cookware company. Inside were a bunch of metal spiders that blew everypony to hades and back, except for one pegasus who managed to get clear." The gryphon did not mention that the medics refused to say if she would ever fly again. "When I saw the leech come flying out the window, the pieces started to click." His official post was as a communications aid to the Lady Bon Hadescream. Unofficially, he was her wings. Lambda was her private army, he was just the courier pigeon. It was what he loved to do, all the fun with none of the responsibility. Then nights like this happened, when lives were in his claws, and there was nobody around he could pass the bit to.

The grey mare nodded. "The local branch bought surplus equipment from ARGUS. I suppose you would call the spider-drone a gift-with-purchase?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"This... they cannot be doing this," Octavia said simply, refusing to accept what she had seen for the past two years with her own eyes. "We are all ponies. We share a purpose, a nation, a... a common decency. They cannot be trying to destroy us."

"Yeah, they can. Systematically and thoroughly, all the while knowing we can't hit back in kind. It wouldn't be the first time."

"What do you mean?" The cellist felt a sinking feeling in her gut, stronger even than the rush of joy from playing for that wonderful audience.

The gryphon turned left. "I mean... the Bon Hadescream Organization's been wiped out completely before. Twice, that I know of."  He kept his eyes on the road, and ignored the horrified expression on her face. "But we always come back from the ashes. That's what the Spire does. It's a little fire in every heart that helps us make hard calls. It's how we endured for almost a thousand years, while all these other little secret societies are flashes in the pan."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Lieutenant... where are you taking us?"

"I'm headed for the city limits. I'm going to drop you off, along with whatever rations we have." He took a breath. "There's a forest, and I know you're class-A on survival and evasion. ARGUS won't find you, no matter how hard they try. You're going to take that barrel of vampire scrap and head northwest until you reach-"

"No." Octavia's tone was firm. "I know what you are thinking. You will stay behind and provide a distraction, a game of cat and mouse with ARGUS. You would buy us time with your lives."

"I'll get the wounded out," he rebutted quietly, keeping his voice low so those in back would not hear. "Without you two, we could go to the Educarchy Sanatorium." Like hades I would. I'll take medi-gel and cloned organs over their mad scientists any day. "You-"

"No, Rollins," she said firmly. "It is a noble idea, but it is unacceptable. I will not look the Lady Bon Hadescream in the eye and tell her that I lost you. ARGUS caught us by surprise, but we will win."

The gryphon began to laugh. "Octavia. We're the last ones left. A pocketful of torn-up operatives, a barrel of rubbish who in about an hour will turn stiff as a stone and need to be protected from the sunlight, and a pretty earth pony with a cello." He slowed the AFV to a stop at another light and shut his eyes. "Oh, and we're all sleep-deprived. You wanna take on an entire city of ARGUS goons with that lineup?"

She tapped her chin. "Mmm, does not seem fair, does it?" A slow grin spread across her muzzle. "Perhaps I will shoot with my off fetlock."

"You're ambidextrous," he grumbled.

"Bother. No help for it then." The grey mare winked at him. "You forget, Lieutenant. We are a rogue unit now. Off the grid." The mare giggled, using those funny terms he loved always needled him. "Central cannot be held responsible for our actions."

"Yes they can. I'm in command."

"And you are thinking like a soldier, Lieutenant. That is your problem." She rested her chin on a front hoof. "Rollins... what was I raised to be?"

The light was still red. The gryphon pressed his claws over his face. "A mad gunmare."

She groaned. "No, not a mad gunmare. An assassin." A Jäger, but that was not a word she liked to use. It was her father's word. "The difference is that one is a job, and the other a mental sickness. Rollins, you have just told me that we have nothing to lose, and that this entire city is full of acceptable targets."

"You're crazy."

"Perhaps." She stuck her tongue out at him, a delightfully uncivilized thing for a lady to do. "But, as Vinyl says, that's how it goes!"

He pressed down on the accelerator, and turned right. After a moment, he said, "you're wrong, you know. I do have something to lose." The gryphon's eyes drifted up to a small mirror, installed so the driver could see the troops in the hold. They were laughing, a few wincing with the pain of the act. All of them were counting on him to find a solution. They trusted the chain of command. Then he looked over to the pretty cellist. A lump formed in his throat.

"Oh, cheer up. Things will get better, you will see." The grey mare yawned. "Besides, we still have a mission to complete."

Rollins looked back to the road. An operative in the hold began telling the tale of some rascally cartoon rabbit. They were in good spirits for the moment, but all of them needed medical aid and rations. He glanced over at her. "I'll just add that to the list. Bread, eggs, milk, medi-gel, kill ARGUS, find and subdue a bleachie to be transported back to Central, oh, and mustn't forget the half-pound of sugar. Pure cane sugar, of course."

Octavia's stomach grumbled, and her cheeks turned as red as the stain on her uniform.

The gryphon turned right again, toward the bad section of town, where good little ponies did not venture. "You sound like you need a meal and a shower." He ran a claw through the white feathers atop his head, then turned to look at the mare sitting in the seat normally occupied by the vehicle's navigator. "Pass me that sheaf of papers next to your chair." When she complied, he rifled through them with his beak while keeping one claw on the controls. "Ni... ni... ni... um!" The gryphon pulled a page free, then dropped the rest on the floor.

"What is that?" Octavia asked, then tried to stifle a yawn.

"An intel brief on an abandoned hotel," he flopped the stapled packet of papers open with one claw. "Now hosting a convention of cult-heads."

The grey mare raised an eyebrow. "I... thought we had bigger problems than some cultist rabble?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but they have running water, electricity, and food. According to the report, they really fixed the place up. It's on the other side of town, an hour's drive."

A slow grin spread across Octavia's muzzle as she shut her eyes and snuggled into the seat. "And it is small enough for ARGUS to miss, mmm?" She yawned. "You really are an excellent strategist, Lieutenant." 

"I'm just communications." But he smiled all the same. The grey mare was asleep within a few moments. Rollins waited till the next stop light, then ducked into the rear hold and urged the rest of the operatives to take what rest they could. As he drove to the abandoned hotel, he reached down every few minutes to adjust the frequency his voxpack scanned. He did not expect to hear anything. The only unit he expected to still be functional would not be on the communications network. They were on their own. As terrifying of a thought as that was to the young gryphon, he was cheered by the thought that the Asset had not agreed to his first plan. She trusted him. They all did.

Poor saps. The communications officer chuckled to himself, trying to boost his own morale. Don't they know the most dangerous thing in the world is a lieutenant with a compass and a map?
> Bastile (Part I): Introduction
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The stallion stumbled out through the hotel's front doors, his head still pounding. Bright daylight flooded down from the blue sky above, stinging his bloodshot eyes, and he cursed the sun before taking a long drink from the bottle in his brown bag. That took the edge off, as it always did. He made sure the doors were firmly shut, then slumped against the wall next to them. A smile slowly crawled over his lips. It had been a night for the records, one well worth the headache. Good times, good smokes, good vibrations. The stallion had followed his inner spark and indulged in the pleasant things of life. This pain was just his body purging out the poisonous lies that They had been cramming into him since birth. He took another sip from the bottle.

Next to him, the old hotel's main doors were boarded over with thick sheets of wood. It was a solid job, he had even reinforced the hinges to make sure they would hold the extra weight. Nopony was getting through those doors unless they had a tank or a cargo lorry. A tank. Heh, wouldn't mind one of those. Boom-boom-boom, run down all those rich scumsuckers who put me here. He was on guard duty today, having pulled the short straw. If he saw anything, he just had to grab the warning rune in the front pocket of his leather apron and bite down on it. The stallion knew he would not have to use the chunk of technosorcery, which was really little more advanced than a child's tin cans and string. Its other end was held by whatever guard was on duty, but he was probably asleep. They had dealt with the local gangers. Nopony was going to mess with the Fellowship. Two ponies hurried down the other side of the street, glancing warily about. He sighed at the sight. This used to be a nice part of town. Now... he yawned again as he looked at other nearby buildings and saw only the ruins of prosperity. Some were burned out factories, others empty warehouses. About two blocks away was an apartment tower where he had lived before They cut his job.

He waved at the two ponies, but they only hurried faster. They're afraid. That was okay, though. The Fellowship was going to make sure nopony had to fear, ever again. Fear was just what They wanted, it kept you down. The stallion took a long swig from his bottle. "Got everypony afraid," he rasped to himself, holding up a hoof to shield his eyes from the sunlight. "Afraid to follow their inner spark an' be happy." His inner spark had done him right last night... well, mostly. The earth pony pressed his front hooves against his face and moaned as the headache pounded harder. No regrets, though. Regret was for when you did not party hard enough!

And I didn't. The stallion scratched his head for a moment, then tried to remember last night. That he could was a bad sign, but worse was the fact that he had woken up cold and alone. He kicked at the ground. I did what the Daughter preached, followed my inner spark until I was almost burned out, but none of those girls gave me the time of night. She said the Great Glow guides us all toward perfect pleasure... what'd I do wrong?

Once again, he found himself taking solace in the knowledge that he had done a good job rebuilding the hotel. Thanks to his hard work, along with others', this place was a fortress. An army couldn't take this sanctuary from the Faithful. Everything would go according to the Daughter's will, and when it was all finally ready... well, he would get even with all the big suits who had burned him. The stallion nodded happily. Yeah, there were a few holes here and there, service entrances and the like, but he had boarded them over. Even if you had the blueprints, you could not fit through one of those chokepoints before the Faithful cut you down. The gangers had tried to drive them out, sent in their ragged armies, and paid in blood. He coughed hard, his lungs still filled with the poison They had filled him with, and indulged his inner spark with another drink. As he tilted his head back, a ray of sunlight stung his eye, and he spilled a bit as winced in pain. The shabby sentry cursed the sun once more, and daubed at the liquid on the front of his leather apron.


* * *



It had been close to two hours since the sun rose. He had stepped back inside for another bottle once, but aside from that nothing of note had happened. A few pegasi had flown overhead, shepherding the city's clouds back and forth into hilarious shapes. He wondered sometimes what it would be like to sleep on one of those clouds, they certainly looked comfortable enough. The earth pony sighed, boredom was the greatest of all evils, it dimmed one's inner spark. He was a worker, used to the feeling of something in his hooves that he could change. Sitting here, looking for a threat that would never come with only his pain as company, was not why he had joined the Fellowship. Still, he kept his eyes as wide as he could. No threat would breach his fortress on his watch. His inner spark would keep his senses keen, and forewarn him of any threat his eyes missed. The Great Glow guided all of its enlightened.

He had watched several other ponies scurrying through the street this morning, and so paid little mind to a lone mare with a worried expression making her way down the opposite sidewalk. She picked her steps carefully, mindful of the oddly-shaped black case on her back, and seemed to be favoring her left hind leg ever so slightly. The stallion waved, as he had done to all the other passersby, but she seemed not to notice him. His eyes turned back to the clouds after a moment, and he noticed what might have been a waterpipe molded out of puffy white floating in the blue sky... or perhaps it was just his imagination. Did those pegasi make shapes on purpose just to ease the boredom, or were clouds as unruly as sheep? Hmmm... He pondered, then something moved in the corner of his vision, and he whipped his head to the side to see-

"Hi..." said a mare with dirty grey fur and a mussed black mane. She wore on her back a cello case that looked like it had seen much in its travels. "I... do you know what streets I might follow to find the Educarchy mission?" She kept her eyes on his hooves, only daring to glance up at his face when he began to reply.

"Th' hades do you wanna go to those book-thumpers for?" He yawned once, then rubbed his puffy eyes. "All they're gonna do is preach at ya about making something of your life." The stallion grunted. Makin' yourself a slave of the rich was more like it. Get smart, work hard, watch somepony else waddle off and leave you with nothing.

"I know, but-" A distinct gurgling grumble interrupted her. The grey mare's eyes widened in embarrassment, and she looked down at the sidewalk. Her mane fell over her face, hiding part of it from his view. "I... I can stand a sermon if I can get something to eat."

"Oh." He peered a little closer at the mare. That's what the Educarchy does. They prey on the weak, those who ain't got anywhere to turn. Clean you up, doll you up, snuff out your inner spark and stuff you with clockwork. The stallion coughed once, then said simply, "you're desperate."

She looked away from him, cheeks a fierce pink to match the well-worn bow-tie around her neck. The mare fiddled with it as she turned her gaze toward the shiny skyscrapers that rose from the more prosperous part of town. "I was not always like this... I used to be somepony. I used to be respected! I made music, beautiful, beautiful music." A happy smile crossed her muzzle, then slowly wilted away. "But... but then they decided that they did not want to hear me anymore."

The cultist nodded in understanding. "You were just a cog to 'em. When something new comes along, toss out the old, in with the new." He took a swig from the brown bag. "I used to be somepony too. Factory worker, see the lathe on my flank? Worked hard every day, the best in the plant." She had a pretty nice flank, and that purple clef had fine curves.

She nodded in sad sympathy, seeming not to notice where his eyes roamed.

"Oh, but then in comes this unicorn with an enchanted lathe! Why keep an earth pony on when anypony can just drop a block of metal into this contraption, and pow! Out comes something great." He snarled, then spat into a gutter. "An' you... you fell out of style, didn't ya?" He wiped his mouth. "They replaced you with a record player, eh?"

"N-no! No, you cannot replace live music, they just..." The mare protested feebly. He could see that she was still clinging to some hope that They cared about her. "I... the ones who listened just... lost interest. I still..." She closed her eyes, and shifted the cello case on her back. "I worked... I practiced so very hard to be the best." The mare took a deep breath. "I was happy. Why did things have to change? That night was so beautiful, the whole orchestra around me, but..."

"But when you think back, it's like another life, ain't it?" He grinned. "And it hurts, don't it?"

"Like a claw through the heart," the grey mare replied with misty eyes. "I was no more, and nopony mourned my passing. Another quickly became the vogue."

She talks pretty, and that's from the heart. He could tell, you could not fake the kind of pain that he saw in her eyes. The factory worker straightened his spine. "They don't care about you. Nopony up there does. It's all a power game, who's the rich and beautiful pony everypony should know." His eyes ran over the grimy mare's body, stopping on the well-worn bow-tie around her neck. "That's all you got left, ain't it?" He pointed with a hoof to her beloved accessory. "All the ruling classes let you keep when they cast you outta paradise."

The musician bit her lip. "Paradise was a bit much... but... at least I was getting by."

"You go to those Educarchy nutters, all they're going to do is clamp the chains back on." He took another sip from the bottle in the bag. "Me, I wised up when they threw me out and nopony in town wanted me. The Educarchy told me to move, find work somewhere else. The back of the diligent shall bear rule, but the slothful shall be under tribute." The stallion laughed. "Yeah, find a new master, and lick their hooves clean for a few bits an hour. No thanks."

"What else am I to do?" the mare retorted with a hint of anger. "I have only what I carry on my back, I may as well be dead to those I once performed for, and nopony here will pay me for my musical talents." Her head dropped down. She stared at her fetlocks and whimpered softly for a moment, then cleared her throat. "Please... I do not mean to be a bother, I am just trying to find my way to the mission. They offer shelter, and food." Her stomach grumbled again.

The factory worker looked her over once more, his headache subsiding as he did. She was very pretty, even dressed in that ailing bow-tie and standing in mud. "What else?" He stood up. "You can do what I did. Fight." The stallion smiled. "Fight the rich, fight the hidden rulers of the world. Fight Celestia herself and this whole Harmony thing they shove down everypony's throat if you have to! You're your own mare, why should anyone else tell you what to do with your life? Why should the ruling classes oppress you, warn you it's a sin to fight back, when you know in your heart how right it is?"

While still looking at the ground, she asked, "but is the heart always right?"

The stallion blinked. "Uh... yeah!" He nodded vigorously. "There's a spark of passion in all of us, it's just like our cutie marks. If you listen to that spark, you'll never be untrue to yourself. That spark leads you to all the fun things that They keep for themselves. It's all a big system that keeps you down and them up." He took a final swig from the bottle, then set it on the ground. "What's one of those big CEOs ever done for you? They're all crooks and slime, not a one of 'em knows what it means to struggle for survival. They sit up there in their castles acting like kings and queens, but you'll never see one of 'em stick their neck out for you."

The grey mare was very quiet, and seemed to be fighting to keep her composure, which the stallion took as a sign that she was beginning to see the light. He pressed on, seeking to awaken her inner spark. When his had first ignited, he remembered how wonderful the feeling of freedom had been... yes, part of it had been the alcohol, but only a small part. 

"They'd drive right by you in the street, leave you to die. I know, it happened to me. In went the enchanted lathe and out went the earth pony. I looked that scumbag manager in the eye, and I saw how black her heart was. Loyalty didn't mean a thing to them, just profit." The stallion leaned against the wall with a smug grin on his muzzle. "That's why I started fighting. Anypony who tries to take what should be mine, I'mma fight 'em, and I'm gonna get mine."

"And where has it gotten you?" The grey mare looked up, her eyes slightly blurry from what might be tears. "What have you accomplished? You are still poor, still without work, still alone-"

"Not alone. Not anymore, and never again." His eyes gleamed with an eerie light that did not come from the sun above. "I have the Fellowship now. We share, we care, we look out for one another, and one day we're gonna stand up and kick the rich right off their thrones." The stallion smiled. "I'm just a dumb old factory worker. Most of 'em are artists, musicians, philosophers... then there's Daughter Scoffing Song. She's something else." When she spoke, you understood. It was like she whispered right to your inner spark, touching it with her own. "You want food and a sermon? Go find the Educarchy yourself. I won't help you put the chains back on."  

She bit her lip, then reached up and brushed the part of her mane that had fallen over her face back.

"But, if you want the truth... I think I can help you with that." He smiled. "So, what's it gonna be, truth or slavery, miss... ah?"

The mare shut her eyes for a moment, then turned to look up at the skyscrapers. She swallowed hard. "Victoria." Her stomach grumbled. "It is nice to meet you, but does your truth have anything to eat while I listen?"

He grinned, and stepped back toward the doors. "Yeah, Miss Victoria." The cultist hammered on the heavy wood with a hoof. "Hey, open up!"

Silence. The stallion glanced back toward the grey mare, who had taken a step away. Her eyes were wide, and she was looking at him curiously. "Ah... why is this place so... secure?"

"Bad neighborhood," he smiled, and waved toward a corner of the sidewalk some distance away. One pony had pulled open his trenchcoat to reveal a selection of watches, which another was perusing with a critical eye. "Open up in there!" The door remained firmly shut. He saw the grey mare take another step back, perhaps beginning to think better of seeking help from those who posted guards and fortified their front entrances. "Hey, uh... you like spaghetti?"

Her ears perked up, and another soft protest came from her stomach. Though it would not be polite to mention it, she looked as though she had not eaten a proper meal in a month. That was almost true, since a proper meal for the grey mare would stuff a buffalo.

"Our cook mixed up a huge batch last night. There's plenty left over." He hammered on the door again, then pulled out a blue crystal and slotted it into a hole on the front. The reinforced portal slid to one side, and he stepped through.

"Why did you not do that in the first place?" she asked.

"Not supposed to," the factory worker puffed out his front. "But I built all this. I always keep a copy of the key for m'self. Just... ah, don't mention it, okay?" He stood inside the building, and waved an invitation. "C'mon, Miss Victoria. Let your inner spark lead."

The musician took a deep breath, then stepped into the hotel. He slid the heavy door shut behind her, made sure it was locked, then nodded toward a corridor. Nopony would be stupid enough to try and come through those doors, certainly not while his inner spark was urging him to seize the opportunity that the Great Glow had provided. The cultist did not, could not, feel the crosshair settle right between his eyes as she met his gaze and smiled innocently.

Outside, silence hung over the street. Nothing moved. The watch-seller and his client had reached an accord, then parted ways. Overhead, the pegasi moved a few clouds, tucking them into jetstreams to be sent elsewhere in the sky. After a moment, four black-armored ponies crept from their hiding places. They trotted past where the sentry should have been sitting, and around to an unwatched service entrance. The building's surroundings had been fortified well, forcing intruders into clearly visible avenues of approach. If a sentry had been at the front, they would never have been able to reach the side door undetected. In addition, the cultists had barricaded the side entrance, going so far as to weld scraps of metal over it.

One of the black-armored ponies leaned up against the doorframe. With a glow of his horn, he held up a plastic bag filled with a gooey sludge. "Ivory-one to Wind-one. You sure this thermite paste is good, over?"

"You saw me mix it up, Ivory-one," crackled back over the communications link. "If you'd like, you can go ask the girls at the Educarchy for some of theirs, but I've talked to 'em enough for one day, over."

"Affirmative, sir." The sergeant snipped off the end of the bag and began squeezing out the paste like it was cake frosting. The Bon Hadescream Organization, he thought, we make candy and fight monsters.
> Bastile (Part II): Marche Royale Du Lion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"You're lucky to be alive after a clang on the head like that," the lieutenant growled as he turned a black helmet over in his claws.

"Wasn't... so bad, sir," the pegasus sitting next to him mumbled. They were ten stories up, concealed in a crumbling alcove that had once ornamented the hotel's top floor. "It was that... or get spotted by the guards... up there."

"I should ground you." The gryphon turned her helmet over again, then produced a screwdriver from a pocket. "You're already injured from just getting out of that inferno alive, and you haven't been to Pendulum yet. You're not trained to focus through it." He began to tinker inside the helmet.

The mare smiled weakly at him, and ran a fetlock through her short mane. There was a small lump on her head, but the helmet had soaked the impact just like it was supposed to. "I might be a local girl, sir, but I've protected this city for five years. I have six months of Branch Crosstraining, and I was in the Kids Club." To prove her point, she reached into a pocket and pulled out her decoder pin. "I know what's at stake, sir. I won't let you down."

He reached out and took the little brass pin from her, then held it up to catch the sunlight. The insignia of the Bon Hadescream Candy Company shone bright, and the touch of solar power energized the tiny cipher machine. One of the small jewels set into its surface turned a friendly shade of green.

"Did you ever... I mean, were you one, sir?" She pressed a hoof to the side of her head and winced. "It was the greatest day of my life, joining the Kids Club. Well, I mean, at the time." The mare blushed. "You know what I mean? Then I earned my place in the Inner Circle, and that was the greatest day of my life." She smiled. "Were you in the Kids Club, sir? When did you find out about the big scary world?"

"I..." Rollins found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for a comeback. The question had caught him off guard, and he mentally kicked himself for not seeing it coming. They always ask if you were one, you dope. Yeah, but they did not always ask about that day. He closed his talons around the little pin. You don't have to say a thing. You're her commanding officer. She's talking to focus on something other than the pain. Just... "I... I was a stringer, still saving up my wrappers to join." His eyes widened, and his wings flared reflexively as he heard the words coming from his beak. "I... uh..." The gryphon coughed, then turned his head to look out over the city. "Friend of mine... turned out to be Inner Circle in the Kids Club. I had a really bad day... and he was there to pick me up, show me there was a reason to keep going." Good. You're nothing special, there's a thousand more with stories like yours. 

The mare nodded, thinking she understood. "Bad grade on a test?" 

"Y-yeah." Close enough. Focus on the mission. "Bad... grade." He squeezed his eyes shut. Don't think. Don't think about anything. Breathe in, breathe out. Everything you know is Corporate. A lot of ponies are relying on you, and you won't let 'em down, Rollins. He turned the decoder pin over, and started to pass it back to the mare. However, his eyes chanced to fall down on that embossed insignia of the Corporation, and for one second he smelled it. All of it, everywhere, like paint spilled and brushed out, running over the floors, the walls, the table, the chairs, the closet door, and the spoon... but worst of all, spilling out of him. No, no, that was not the worst. The worst was where all the rest had come from. Them, lying lifeless on the floor, and the thing that did it all was laughing. Laughing and condemning him to survive, as being not worth killing.

"Sir?"

Rollins felt an involuntary jerk run through his body, as if he had just tripped over an unshielded power cable. He forced a smile from years of practice, and set the pin on the mare's front. Her mouth opened, but her voice was different. Instead of "Thanks, sir." he heard...

"You'll be fine, Roll. Just fine. Look at me, Roll. Today was the day, right? Keep your eyes on me, birdbrain! Yeah, I called you that. I know you hate it. I'll call you that again if you shut your eyes. Today was the day, you had all the wrappers. I helped you save 'em, that's right."

The gryphon shut his eyes and balled his claws into fists. He was not sitting ten stories up, he was on an earth pony's back, a torn tablecloth holding his guts in, wishing he was dead.

"You're gonna be fine, Roll. Just fine. Your mom an' dad, they always said you'd be somebody special. You ain't gonna make liars out of them, are you? So help me, if you chicken out and croak, I'll box your head. It's not much farther now, and you'll be fine. I've a patch in trauma aid, I do, an' I say you'll be fine. Don't you make a liar out of me either, you birdbrain!"

"Sir? How long have you been awake?"

Rollins forced his eyes open, and the memory faded away. Was it a memory? Maybe this whole life was just some sick hallucination his mind was forcing him through while he lay on that kitchen floor. Maybe everything he experienced was just the last sparking of his neurons as they died out, one by one. With two trembling talons, he unlatched a pocket on his armor and pulled out a brown pill, then swallowed it dry. After a moment, he felt his consciousness reassert itself.

"Lieutenant, are you sure you should be fighting?" the pegasus asked. She straightened up, her headache forgotten after seeing the gryphon break out in a cold sweat and go deaf to the world around him. "You've been running hard ever since you got into town, trying to keep up with those two maniacs, and you just gulped that pill quicker than a rich kid downing a jelly bean."

"I'm fine," he lied outright, then sighed. "I'm... I'm just as battle-ready as you, lance corporal. And I've been dry-swallowing fast ever since my red pill." His claws clenched again. The stimulants were kicking in now. "Helmet. Gotta fix your helmet." He turned the piece of armor over and inspected the technomagery crammed into it. "Huh. This is custom-pattern stuff... local?"

"Fabbed it up ourselves," she replied proudly. "That's only a month old, was part of the last batch before we lost the workshops." The pegasus swallowed hard. "Ah... sir, thank you. If you an' those two crazy girls hadn't gotten into town when you did, we'd all be dead."

"I didn't exactly do a sterling job of keeping everyone alive." The gryphon replied, fiddling at a panel with his screwdriver.

"You sweet-talked an Educarchy burner-girl!" she leaned back against a hunk of fallen rock and checked the lasgun powerpacks she had set out to charge in the sunshine. They were still low on power, but she could make each shot count. "And as soon as you got into town, you had that hunch and made us all-"

"Swapping communication methods is standard procedure," the gryphon replied. "So were the changes in combat tactics and squad loadouts. I'm not a genius, I just have a cookbook for these kinds of situations." Frack. She had somehow managed to mess up the voxcom relay. That would take an average repairpony two hours with a workshop and a new hunk of galena crystal. "The Assets do all the work... well, one of 'em at least." Rollins pulled a pouch off his voxpack and set it on the ground between him and the pegasus, then unzipped it to reveal a small toolset. "The other one just jumps around and makes noise." There we go, pull you out and have a look... "I shuffle papers, keep 'em on task, pass down orders from up top. Supervising officer stuff."

After a few moments of silence, the mare could resist no longer. She had watched the gryphon peel her helmet apart as easily as she might strip down a lasgun for cleaning. Though their equipment was designed to be easily maintained and repaired, she already had a lurking suspicion about the snarky gryphon. "Sir? Are the rumors true?"

"I deal in both facts and paranoia," he replied with both claws wedged into the helmet's guts. "Purple putty."

She passed him the hunk of malleable goop, which he stuffed into one of the helmet's circuits. "I heard you trained with the Ghosts of Onyx."

Rollins kept his eyes on the job. "Where did you hear that?"

"The Branch Commander mentioned it when she finished reading a report you filed for one of the Assets."

"Next time I'll make Strings do her own paperwork," the communications officer grumbled. Poor girl had passed out in the Chimera after cleaning up a mess of wrigglers that had turned out to be under the sway of a minor member of the Elderati. She had taken him out with one shot, but that just sent the wrigglers into a frenzy. After all the action, she needed a shower and a nap, not a stack of paperwork, so he had done his job and made sure the Asset remained focused. He was their voxop, because the Lady Bon Hadescream pointed and he obeyed. "The Ghosts of Onyx are a myth."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I know you spent a lot of time at Pendulum. That's why the Branch Commander mentioned it in the first place. Folks don't spend time out there unless they're really special material."

"Or they got noplace else to go." The gryphon sighed as he squinted into the helmet. "I grew up at Pendulum, that's why I have so much time logged. Took a bunch of courses, bounced back and forth between there and little courier jobs."

The pegasus grinned. "You're a Spireborn? I thought that was just ponies, didn't know we had gryphons too."

He shook his head slowly. The Spireborn were a breed apart. "Nope. My parents were immigrants... but the Company's my family now." Rollins laughed bitterly. "You cut me and I bleed red ink."

She waited until his brow unfurrowed and the part clicked into place, then smiled at him. "That's what they say about the Ghosts of Onyx too. They're Corporate to the Core."

He twisted a piece back into place, then shook his head. "No. I'm not part of some super-secret special missions unit. I fix voxcasters, carry communications, and do office work. That's it."

The mare leaned her head to the side. "Sir, that's not what I asked." Of course he's not one of them right now, he has two Assets to look after. But who better to keep them in line than a hard-boiled supersoldier who can kill with a mean look! Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but she had heard awesome stories about the Ghosts of Onyx at Branch Crosstraining. Even heroes needed heroes.

"Here's your helmet. Try it out."

She smiled at him, then pulled on the helmet and made sure it was snug. "Check one, check two..."

Rollins nodded, one earpiece of his headset pressed to the side of his head. "You're transmitting. That'll do for now until we can get some real repairs."

"Thanks, sir! Oh, let me test out the vox passthrough-psssshSSSSSSHT!" A hiss of static screamed out of her helmet. The gryphon lunged forward, clawed it off her head, and slapped the internal override before the stunned mare could respond. Even so, he knew it was too late.

"I overrode some of the safeties and repurposed a few unneeded components," he whispered into her ear as he straightened up. She was still stunned from the sheer force of the sound. "You have squadcom. You don't have safeties for your mic talkback, which is why the feedback almost blew your eardrums just now. Don't switch off squadcom. Understood?"

She nodded meekly, having caught just enough of what he said to understand her mistake. "Sorry... sir."

"Not as sorry as you two are gonna be," laughed a pegasus hovering outside with a hefty submachine gun pointed at them. "Thought you could sneak up on the Fellowship, eh? What gang are you two with, anyway, I don't-"

Rollins lunged. The cultist had no clue just how far a gryphon's powerful hindlegs could propel him from a full stop, nor had he expected those claws to rip his gun away before he could react and clamp around his muzzle. The sudden addition of a gryphon's body weight sent the pegasus hurtling toward the ground, but before they could fall three stories a soft zorch-thwap came from something in the lieutenant's left claw. Rollins wrapped an arm around the limp body and spread his wings, then flapped upward. He perked his head up over the rooftop, then shoved the guard onto it, careful to pose him as though he had fallen asleep or simply sat down. The gryphon dove back down into the alcove, then took a deep breath.

"Did you... is he-" began the lance corporal, her lasgun at the ready.

The communications officer pointed an innocent little green pistol with a white dish array where its muzzle should have been at her. Little red and orange sparks of energy flickered over the array, and his talon was wrapped around a strangely shaped will-rune.

"Neural stunner. Good enough for the Commander during the Great Crusade." He glanced out of the alcove and noticed that a pair of birdies had begun circling the stunned cultist above. If anyone found him, they would assume he had partied too hard. "Good enough for me."

"Do they issue those to Ghosts of Onyx?" the mare asked with a wink before putting her helmet on once more.

"I dunno. I made this one m'self." He pulled on his headset and adjusted his voxpack, then holstered the neural stunner. "Sorry I didn't warn you." Another grand screwup, almost got both of you killed. Good job, Rollins. Their cover was intact, nopony else had noticed, and if the cultist had told anyone else they would already have attacked. Wait. Strings knows what she's doing. Trust her. Stick to the plan.

A few moments later, the pegasus' ears were still ringing. "Sir... I know you can't get a signal out with that pack, but... is there any help coming? What if we miss a check-in in a week or so, will..." her voice trailed off as she saw the expression on his face.

"Y'know in the cinema, when there's no hope left for the heroes, but things just work out somehow?" The lieutenant twisted a dial on the voxpack. Only red runes lit up... then a green one at the very bottom flickered. "Backup comes, or the bad guy has a change of heart, maybe the power of love pulls 'em through?"

"Yessir?"

"Those two Assets and I were the backup." He glanced up at the blue sky. "No use lying to you, we're in a bad way on a strategic level, not just the tactical that you and I see every day. This city had a lot of really valuable resources, and you were bringing in a lot of needed revenue." The gryphon pressed one earcup of his headset close, then frowned. "What I'm saying is that you did everything right. That's why you got hit. That's why we were sent to help." And when we got here, you didn't even imagine that ARGUS would be crazy enough to go full force forward. Good job, Rollins. The Lady would have seen that one coming ten kilometers away. The fact that she had fallen into a similar trap in Manehattan two years ago slipped his mind. "Now, we need to save what we can, because..."

"Because there's nopony else left to come save us," she finished quietly.

"Correct. It's up to us, because there's a hundred other cities on fire right now, and a thousand more unsung heroes in 'em. That's the way this war is fought." The gryphon smiled at the mare, imparting confidence that he did not have himself. "You and me, we're strong, and lucky to be born sharp enough to deal with all this. It's up to us to do our part, and up to the norms to keep on making the world worth fighting for. The Great Crusade was a long time ago. Now, we fight in the shadow cast by the sun."

"And we're the original defenders of Equestria." She nodded. "Everypony else is just imitating us and trying to do it better. That's why Celestia set us up after the Great Crusade, right sir?"

Rollins nodded. "Yeah. Because every generation needs its own revolution. We gotta fight, because there's always someone out there causing mayhem. And we're gonna hold, no matter how bad it gets." He looked out over the city. "Because that's what she wanted, and what she still wants. We're here to hold the line, and maybe save a few hearts where we can." The lieutenant looked back at her. "That's why we're here now, on the side of this building. We hold, be it a monster, ARGUS, cultists, or Nightmare Moon herself come down with an army out of Tartarus." There. That was decent.

A snicker escaped her. "Nightmare Moon, that's an old pony's tale for Nightmare Night..." she noticed the expression on his face. "Right, sir?"

"Sure it is, lance corporal." He glanced at his chronometer. "Sure it is." She's never looked a Nightguard in the eye. They're as grim as it gets. He sighed. Guess I would be too, if I had a thousand years of somepony else's guilt on my back. To them, there's only war. That's all they have left. "When we get the word, you know what to do?"

"Yessir, stick to the plan."

He nodded. "Until we reach the part where my plan fails horribly."

"Murphy's law, and Murphy was an optimist," the operative confirmed, referencing an aerospace engineer of her breed.


* * *



"It's the 'shooms, that's what makes it so good, duuuude." The unicorn with a chef's hat trotted over to the table, a plateful of noodles and sauce held in the glow of his horn. True to his word, there were several large mushrooms mixed in for flavor. He set the plate in front of the grey mare. "I don't, like, think it's my best work or anything, but everypony was all over it last night!"

The factory worker shot him a glare, then made a cutting motion across his throat with a hoof. Their cook tended to eat at one's nerves, and the last thing he needed was a moron with a poofy hat messing up what the Great Glow had provided. However, the one called Victoria just nodded her thanks.

"I am grateful for anything." Her stomach grumbled again, but she took a deep breath and willed it to be still. The mare slowly tied a white napkin around her neck, then made sure it was straight. She looked up at the cook and smiled at him. "I cannot remember the last time I smelled something... quite like this."

"That's the 'shrooms, get that good, pungent aroma." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Like, totally wild. Mushrooms are great for your life meter. We grow 'em here, I never saw anything like 'em before! Woah, made these awesome brownies last night too," the unicorn licked his lips. He had only gotten one before the rest of the Fellowship descended like hungry vultures. "But like, they went faster than... uh... you ever read those comic books about that speedy blue hedgehog dude?"

She leaned her head to the side and thought for a moment. "Why... no. No, I do not think I have." They sounded familiar, but she had never been a comic book kind of girl.

"Whaaaat?" the chef's jaw hung open, and his unfocused eyes widened even further. "Like, he's totally my hero and stuff! That's why I joined the Fellowship, we're all like family goin' up against The Machine, y'know?"

The cellist smiled innocently, and fiddled with the napkin around her neck. A lady did not eat and talk at the same time. Her escort was about to mention that, and suggest that the chef shove off, when she said, "no, I really do not. I came because I was hungry... what is it you do here?"

"Uh... do?" the chef blinked. "We fight The Machine!" He tossed back his dyed-blue mane and raised a hoof in what he must have thought resembled a noble pose. "Like, there's these evil dudes who go around cramming innocent bunnies and birdies into these robot suits that draw power out of the poor lil' bird!"

The factory worker groaned. He was a practical pony. "We've told you again and again, cook. The Machine is a metaphor. There is no such thing as a human, and if there was they would just use steam or magic like everypony else." He smiled apologetically at Victoria, and reached out to touch her hoof. "I'm sorry, he's just-"

"You might not believe that the Roboticizer is real, but I know it is!" interrupted the cook, his poofy hat wobbling with indignation. "That's why I joined, it's just like in the comic books!" His voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper, and he winked at the grey mare. "This here is the secret village of the Resistance, and Scornful Song is just like Princess Sal-"

"That's Daughter Scoffing Song, cook!" The factory worker growled at him. "You'd think you would learn that by now after all the-" He bit his tongue and avoided the grey mare's gaze. "After all this time, I mean." Even when pursuing your inner spark, there was still a path to follow. Only those who were truly bright could see the path, others had to follow them. To stray from the path was to invite punishment, but the destination was worth the pain of passage. There were secrets best kept from those not yet bright enough to bear them, their minds were simply not ready to know such great truths.

"After all this time, you'd think you'd learn my name." The unicorn grumbled. "And she's cool, dude, you know I'm totally her personal chef, right?" A sly smile spread across his face. He flicked his tail, also dyed blue, with a note of pride. "I'm practically her champion, you can call me-"

"Your title is not Hot Trot the Excellent, and you are not the Wielder of the Mighty Frypan!" roared the factory worker. He had heard this drivel time and time again. Keeping the cook's delusions intact was vital to keeping him productive, but the earth pony was in no mood for it right now. The stallion pointed at the unicorn's hind hooves, shod in red sneakers with a white stripe running over the middle. "Those are not 'Power Sneakers', the Daughter barely knows you're alive, and the only reason you cook for her is because you are the only cook we have!" The last one had been even worse. Hot Trot at least knew the difference between tasty and toxic. Fortunately, their old chef had always sampled his own food first, and the factory worker had never liked those other ponies anyway.

The unicorn groaned. "Dude, why you gotta be such a buzz-kill? Like, we all spark an' stuff in our own way." He winked at the grey mare, who was still sitting patiently with a fork in one fetlock, and a spoon in the other. "Woah... I've never seen an earth pony eat spaghetti with a spoon before." The chef paused, and his eyes actually came into focus for a moment. "I mean... I have, but it's been like forever an' a day."

"Well, you are wearing a toque blanche, and this is the correct way to consume such a dish." She said in an almost embarrassed tone of voice. The musician pointed at the plate of noodles, sauce, and strange mushrooms sitting before her. If one did not know better, one might suspect she was hesitant to eat it, and was flattering the cook in the hope that his loose tongue might reveal more secrets.

"Yeah, but isn't it hard and stuff?" he scratched his head. "I mean, you don't have magic, isn't it hard to do fine manipulatin' with just your hooves? I saw earth ponies do it all the time when I was... I mean... but..." he glanced around at the makeshift kitchen he had cobbled out of the ruined hotel. "Nopony ever bothers with that kind of fancy stuff here. You can just eat, y'know?"

"Good things are often hard to accomplish, but worth the struggle." She held up the fork and spoon with the intent of demonstrating proper technique without actually getting any noodles on the utensils, lest they somehow make their way to her stomach. The sniper wondered if just the smell of the mushrooms would affect her mind. At least it covered the hint of smoke and ash that still clung to her fur. After this morning's escapades, looking the part of a ragamuffin musician had taken only a few minutes and some potting soil. She had also declined any rations, in the spirit of completing her disguise.

The unicorn's eyes lit up as he watched her flawlessly twist the fork against the spoon, then lift the invisible noodles to her mouth. "That's totally right! Woah, déjà vu..." he pressed a hoof to his forehead, then shrugged. "And what you said was really deep. That reminds me about tonight, we're gonna-"

He was interrupted by the factory worker, who jumped up and clamped his mouth shut by force. Victoria gasped, and froze the both of them with a terrified stare. Very slowly, the factory worker smiled at her. "He... has been working on a special dish! Mustn't spoil the surprise!" The burly earth pony shook the unicorn. "Right, cook?"

"Mmph-mmm!" he replied, eyes wide with pure terror.

The grey mare glanced from one to the other, then nodded slowly. "That... would be unfortunate." She nervously twirled the fork in the air. "How long have you been working on it?"

"Oh, shoot, probably a year an' six months..." prattled the chef. The earth pony elbowed him. "Uh, it's a really, really big summ- recipe!"

Victoria continued nodding slowly. "A summer recipe?"

The chef bobbed his head. "Yeah! Woah, you're really mellow..." Then his spine stiffened, his eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a suspicious tone. "Wait, wait, waaaait... you're not..."

She stopped breathing, and gripped the fork tightly.

"You're not a bunny in a robot suit who just looks like a pony, are you?" He rubbed his chin and leaned to the side, as though looking for a power plug in her mane. The factory worker groaned.

"I'm going to strangle you," hissed the burly stallion. Deafened by curiosity, the cook reached out and was about to poke at the grey mare's bow-tie. He had read in the comic books that bow-ties were sometimes buttons that controlled the access hatches for the robotic suits. It would be a simple press of a hoof, and her head would pop open to reveal a little bird with a bunch of wires wrapped around it! However, he was yanked back by a pair of mighty fetlocks that clamped around his neck. "Why you little-"

"It is all right, really," she interjected before the earth pony could shake Hot Trot's brain out of his head. "I am not a robot. Your friend would not have let me in if he doubted my mortality, would he?" She cast a trusting glance at the other earth pony, who flashed a charming smile and let go of the unicorn.

"You understand, Miss Victoria, and you were in need. That's why I invited you in." And when the fruit is ripe, it is a sin not to indulge.

The chef coughed once, then bopped himself on the side of the head to realign his spinning eyeballs. "Uh... yeah!"

Having had quite enough of his shenanigans, the factory worker knocked the cook off to another corner of the hotel's kitchen with a solid hindquarters slam. He straightened his leather apron, then settled down on the chair next to the grey mare. "Don't mind him. The Fellowship has room for everypony." With a cough, he added, "even those who aren't right in the head."

"I see. How kind of you to look after even those who are feeble in mind." Her expression remained completely earnest.

He smiled wide. This was goin' good! "Yeah, well, somepony has to. That's what the inner spark is all about, each of us following our own desires instead of taking what the rich dish out. We listen to the brightest, not the ones born with silver spoons in their mouths." The stallion looked into her eyes, those deep, purple eyes, and saw... nothing. For one brief instant, before she glanced away and blushed, there was absolutely nothing. No fear, no anger, no joy, or even that spark of hunger he had seen outside. Just an abyss of emotion that seemed to stretch on forever. To a pleasure-cultist, there were few things more terrifying. He swallowed hard. "I... umm... we..."

"Thank you."

"You're... welcome?" he replied uncertainly.

"For welcoming me into your home, I mean. This is your home, is it not?" She glanced up, still fiddling with the fork in her right fetlock, but her eyes were warm again. Had he truly seen something cold in them, or was it just his anger with the chef playing tricks on him? Regardless, she had a hint of a smile on her muzzle. "Thank you, kind sir."

A snicker from behind him broke his gaze away. "Oh dude, you didn't even tell her your name, did you?"

He turned around and glared at the upstart cook, then back to the grey mare with an apologetic expression on his face. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

The grey mare bit her lip. "No, no, I was the one who was impolite. You were being so kind, inviting me in, offering what I needed... I was afraid if I asked your name, it would be like a dream that melts away when you poke at it too much."

With an embarrassed rub of his mane, and another angry glare at the cook, he said, "I'm-"

"Lay-brother Grip Steel!" boomed a voice from the kitchen's entrance. "You have deserted your post!"

He froze, Victoria's eyes turned cold once more, and the even the irreverent cook did not dare to make a joke about "dessert". In the doorway stood two mighty unicorns clad in leather armor, and in their hooves were ornately decorated spears.
> Bastile (Part III): Poules Et Coqs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The grey mare trotted along with a worried expression, while the other earth pony tried every platitude he knew on the spear carrying guards. Neither responded to his pleas. They wore ceremonial leather armor with cryptic rune etchings, but it seemed designed to protect rather little of their bodies. Victoria had never seen anything like it before, she was just a poor cellist down on her luck. Octavia knew that the armor was marked with Ecstasy cult enchantments that turned the pain of each blow received into pleasure. Somepony wearing such armor would be a dangerous enemy in close combat, since he would not care how badly he was injured until his body simply stopped responding.

"...and I was just-"

"Be silent," commanded one of the unicorns as he herded them aboard an elevator. The factory worker shut his mouth, but his eyes were still filled with a mixture of anger and fear. Octavia's stomach grumbled, and she questioned if it had been such a good idea to avoid eating any of the spaghetti. Surely the mushrooms could not have been that harmful, especially not to her modified metabolism. And years of eating on the cheap before that night in Manehattan... One of the unicorns pressed a button, and the elevator began to rise.

"W-where are you taking me?" asked the frightened cellist. She shifted the black case on her back and hugged her tail close, playing the part of a terrified mare who knew she was in over her head. After the events of this morning it was rather easier than she would have liked. Vinyl was still lurking in her metal barrel. Understandable, the vampire had just survived an entire building blowing up around her. The ghoul nibbled her lower lip and fretted about her friend. Vinyl would be in torpor for the rest of the day, but she would need sustenance when she awoke. Not even she could simply shrug off injuries that grave... right?

It does not matter. You will provide what she needs. That was what friends did for one another, right? The grey mare hugged her tail a little tighter. Your domitor needs blood. Surely, after all the kindness she has shown you, you will be able to squeeze enough to restore her. She glanced up at the guards, then back down at the elevator floor. The Lady Bon Hadescream's voice echoed through her thoughts.


* * *



"Now, Octavia, I do not expect you to understand the political structure of the Elderati," the creme-colored mare adjusted her tie and scratched on a slate with a piece of chalk. "It can be summed up in one simple word, backstabbing. That is a verb, an action word," she turned to the attentive cellist, "but they take action so slowly that one might as well reduce it to a stationary noun, treachery."

The grey mare nodded attentively, and made a note in minimalist cursive. It had been a few months since her full acceptance into the Organization, and she was pouring her all into the training they offered. Her body ached from the morning's drills, but she found the dull pain to be almost comforting. This felt like a second childhood... save that it had everything her first had lacked.

"All you need to know is they regard you as the lowest form of life in existence." She drew a little treble clef at the bottom of her slate. "To them, you are below the dirt," the Lady scribbled the word dirt above the picture of Octavia's cutie mark. "You are below the worms in the dirt," a few squiggly lines represented them. "Below the droppings of animals," she drew a small pile with a few flies buzzing above it for that one. "Below the animals who leave those droppings, below other monsters for the most part, below ordinary, everyday mortals, all of which are below those blessed by the taint of vampirism. After all, a mortal still governs herself, while to the Elderati a ghoul is a slave." She set the slate down.

A mint-colored unicorn tapped her employer on the shoulder, and levitated a glass of water. With a grateful nod, the Lady took a sip before continuing. "A ghoul is continually bound to his master by the vitae he must be fed at regular intervals. Without it, they slip back into mortality, usually much the worse for wear as their bodies use up the vampiric blood that could very well be the only thing holding them together." She took another sip. "But, it is not mere self-preservation that makes a ghoul such a useful pawn in their eyes. You have seen how fanatically such addicts fight."

Octavia nodded. Her most recent assignment had been to purge a coven of Elderati who were attempting to seize control of a city vital to Corporate interests. Her team had succeeded, but at great cost. The mayor had turned out to be a vitae-addicted ghoul, and at the worst moment possible had decided to reveal this fact by emptying a revolver at point-blank range into the operative protecting her. Octavia had heard it all through the operative's voxlink, but had her own problems to sort out at the time. The coven had decided on a preemptive strike, and had sent what seemed like a regiment of heavily armed ghouls to make an example of the Organization's troops. They had fought without discipline, but each possessed a sort of berserker resistance that made them hard to truly put down. Fortunately, the vampires had thought the Organization had sent only mortals, and were unpleasantly surprised when a certain mare in red began whistling a happy tune while reducing their fanatics to fertilizer.

"They call it love, the effect on a mortal of continued vitae-drinking," continued the Lady Bon Hadescream. "Some kind of blood-bond. The Elderati clam it is symbiotic." The creme-colored mare drew a pair of glasses from her topcoat pocket. "And indeed, it can be. If you are of strong will and keen mind, it is nothing more than a warm feeling that runs up and down your spine whenever you are doing their bidding. But I have almost a thousand years of records on these creatures, and I can assure you that they do not forge armies with warm feelings."

She set the glasses on her face and glanced down into a book her maidservant held up. "It is a corruption, like a drug that damages the mind. They use it to bend your desires to their own, to free themselves by imprisoning others. You see, they have no use for a world where everypony is able to find happiness by her own labor. Such a world has no place for their power games." A smile crossed her lips. "And the idea of that happening is almost as terrifying to them as the idea that someday the knowledge of their existence might be thrust upon the masses in such a way that it cannot be denied any longer."

"Is that a goal of the Organization?" asked the grey mare. "To force ponies to accept that vampires are real, and deny them recruits?" Octavia thought it might work, nopony would accept such a bargain if she knew the true price. Then she remembered that the promise of immortality could be quite alluring. The cellist had made peace with death, her defect had forced that... but if Vinyl had found out about her illness under different circumstances... It was easy enough to imagine what the unicorn would say. Please, Octy. You're my best friend. Please, I can't lose you.

Vinyl is not like those other vampires, the grey mare protested to herself. She is my friend. She truly would mean those words. Of course she would. But how many other ponies would wrongly think their would-be patrons could be as kind as Vinyl?

"No," replied the CEO. "We offer knowledge, we do not force it down others' throats, especially not in this case." She shook her head. "For reasons that I do not have time to detail today."

The mint unicorn coughed once, then gave her charge a reproachful look. A few seconds passed, then the Lady sighed. She glanced down into the book once more, paged backwards, then looked up at the grey mare. "A public unveiling would create unimaginable panic, and not the productive kind of panic where ponies innovate solutions to great problems or band together against a common enemy." She motioned for the unicorn to close the book. "I mean the kind where sister turns against sister out of fear that one harbors the taint of vampirism, or sympathizes with those who do. A kind of panic where anypony with a grudge could say, 'look there, a stallion who sympathizes with vampires!', and off he would go to the guillotine or gallows."

"That sounds like just what the vampires would want," Octavia shivered, wondering if that truly was the Elderati's ultimate goal. Ever since she had stepped into this shadow world, she marveled that Equestria still existed after all these centuries. It seemed that threats of world-changing scale threatened the land on a regular basis, and were only defeated through the courage of heroes. "An age of carnage and bloodshed, backed by the laughter of thirsting monsters."

"Some vampires do, yes," the businessmare agreed. "But not the Elderati, and they are the single largest organization of vampires... that we know of." She rubbed at the side of her head, forcing the muscles to unclench. "For all their evil deeds, the Elderati favor order, and despise many of the cults who seek to overthrow our society. They do not find Harmony profitable or desirable, but they know every experiment that has attempted to create a stable society tailored for their desires has ended in catastrophe. So, they amuse themselves with meddling and tinkering, all the while knowing that they must put up their toys and go to bed when the sun rises. Do you understand why?"

Octavia thought for a moment. The answer was as obvious as it was terrifying. "Without us, they would have nothing to consume, and no toys to play with." She swallowed hard, and a chill ran down her spine at the thought.

A sad smile slid across the other earth pony's face. "Precisely. So, until Celestia rises from her throne with a voice of authority and decrees that they must be exterminated, we hold the line." The grin widened. "Of course, there are vampires who wish to see Her Majesty deposed. Many are still carrying out their original purpose, to sew chaos and usurp her authority. However, for the most part the Elderati have a sizable stake in keeping Equestria as the dominant power in the world. They are reliant on us to survive, quite at odds with their original purpose." The mortal mare snickered. That was Celestia's way.

"In fact," she continued, "several centuries ago when the Bon Hadescream Organization was... unable to rise to the occasion," her eyes flashed in anger, then quickly cooled. "The Elderati put together several large military formations to counter an invading army." The Lady sat down. "Ordinarily, the Equestrian Guard would be up to the challenge, but this particular threat stank too mightily of warpfire and chaos for the paranormal societies to ignore."

"The vampires intervened?" the grey mare jotted down a reminder to ask Vinyl about this. Her mother was a vampire, at least Octavia was pretty sure she was. Maybe she had a different side of history. "On Equestria's behalf?"

"The leader of that army," smirked the Lady, "a minotaur who had expressed a heartfelt desire to vent certain carnal urges upon Her Solar Majesty, is still kept as a pet by one of the Elderati's high-ranking members. That is, if my sources are accurate." She took another sip of water. "It is a curious paradox. They despise the sun, and yet they protect Her Majesty, for they know she looks upon them with kindness. Not because of their evil deeds, you understand, but because there are a few righteous among the wicked. Also, there are the rogue vampires, like your friend."

Ever the faithful servant, the mint unicorn took her employer's empty glass. The creme-colored mare rolled her neck and rubbed at her eyes. She had not gotten much sleep the night before, but there was simply too much work to do. The leader of the Bon Hadescream Organization had promised to teach this mare such vital secrets as she needed to know, and she would keep that promise. Rest was for the honored dead. "And Her Majesty looks on those like you with kindness as well, because it is your choice to pursue good rather than evil. However, you are a rather curious development. You lack that one key weakness all ghouls seem to share."

"I do not require a vampire's vitae," Octavia confirmed. A blush crept across her cheeks. "But... I am afraid that I am eating you out of castle and company instead, My Lady."

"Hmmph." The Lady Bon Hadescream walked over to a nearby set of drawers and rummaged about. She returned with a picture in her mouth, which she set on the small stool the other earth pony was using as a writing surface. The CEO had offered her some acreage on the massive wooden heirloom she used as a desk, but Octavia felt it would be impolite to accept. What if she scratched it? Would that not be like spitting in the face of the Organization's proud history? The grey mare looked down at the photo.

"My father told me, when I was a very young filly, that it is our honor to feed the hungry." She took a deep breath, then reached out to touch her father's confident smile. The stallion held in his front legs a little girl with a pink stripe running through her blue mane. "He told me that many mistook profit for success. It is an indicator of achievement, nothing more. True profit is found in Harmony." She looked up at the grey mare. "For when a customer trusts you to give her a good value for her bit, you will earn that bit again and again." The businessmare smiled. "I know I have your loyalty, and that is worth more than you could ever eat. Believe it or not, your upkeep is usually less than the cost of cleaning up after your friend."

Octavia blushed.

"My father would also say that what we do for the least among us, we do for Her Majesty. You were in need, and my maidservant gave you a job you could accomplish. That is the best form of charity." She pushed her glasses back into place, and smiled. "That investment returned grand dividends, and so I am quite inclined to double down."

"He must have been a very wise stallion," replied Octavia with a trace of sad envy. To her mild surprise, the mint unicorn nodded enthusiastically. "I know your father would be proud of you."

The Lady blinked twice, surprised by the remark, then looked toward the massive wooden desk. It was too easy to remember her father sitting behind it, laboring tirelessly. "Would he?" she asked, a dark undertone creeping through her voice. She had been wrestling with that very thought. "Would he approve of the mare who let everything he ever worked for slip from her grasp? Would he love the girl foolish enough to be chased out of Manehattan rather than-"

A gentle touch from the unicorn silenced the earth pony. With a glow of her horn she picked up the photograph, then tapped the words scribbled at the bottom. You are the reason I smile, my Bon Bon. Look after the others at Pendulum, and I will see you soon.

Octavia glanced down at her hooves, feeling horrible for having opened her mouth.

"Thank you, Lyra," said the businessmare. "But... you know this was not what he wanted for me."

The cellist looked up, head full of questions but mouth firmly shut. Lyra rolled her eyes, then produced a featherduster and waved it menacingly at her employer.

Bon Bon took a deep breath. "I'm... not going to get out of this, am I?" Lyra shook her head. "Fine." The businessmare's eyes turned to Octavia. "The night when you became a ghoul. That was unexpected, was it not? You thought life would carry on a certain course, with performances and concerts, along with just a dash of monster hunting to make yourself feel better." Her brow furrowed. "I was much the same. I was raised all my life to be a credit to my family's name, but my father always wanted me... wanted me..." her cheeks turned as pink as the stripe in her mane. "He wanted me to live life as a normal pony. To find a nice home in a village somewhere, perhaps travel Equestria a bit, and pursue what makes me happy."

Lyra caught Octavia's eye, then pointed toward the cutie mark of wrapped sweets on their boss' flank.

"Yes, making candy is what truly makes me happy." The CEO smiled. "I... mean, it was only natural. It is in my blood to make sweets, it is even in my name. And when I was young, he asked me, what do you want to do with your life?" She loosened her tie ever so slightly. "I told him that I wanted to live in a happy little community, make delicious candy, and see the smiles on everypony's faces when they ate them. Here at the Castle... I oversee so much, but I see firsthoof so little."

"What happened?" asked the cellist, who had a sinking feeling that she already knew the answer.

"My father fell ill," Bon Bon sat down on the floor again, her back to the wooden desk. "I... was at his bedside. He was old, and full of days, but..." She bit her lip. "It was unexpected, and I have my suspicions, especially since certain other things happened that day." Backstabbing, the kind that deserved an action word. "His last words to me were," she coughed, and her voice deepened, "I want you to follow your heart, Bon Bon. Let your heart plan your way, and Harmony direct your steps. That is what I have fought for all... these... years." 

The mint unicorn lowered her head. Her employer was a mare of many voices. Most ponies thought that she was simply talented. They had no idea what it cost to hold the title of Lady Bon Hadescream, what fire the Spire poured into your soul when you sat before it. There was a touch of madness in the young mare, and it would never leave.

"So I followed my heart, and my steps led me to the base of the Spire. Ever since that day, any hope of living a normal life in a small town has been a distant dream." She coughed once, and fiddled with one of the cuffs on her suit. "I belong to the Organization now, just as much as you do. While duty remains, I am not a simple candymaker. I am the Lady Bon Hadescream."

Octavia smiled. "And I am not a mere cellist, but an Asset to the Organization." So it was, so had the Organization been for almost a thousand years, and so it would be... unless Celestia willed otherwise, but what were the chances of that?

"Indeed. A very curious Asset, one who has much potential." She passed the photograph to Lyra, who trotted back to the cabinets with it. "That is the Elderati's weakness... well, it is a weakness shared by many of our enemies. They forget that Harmony often makes champions of the ones they consider beneath their notice."  She steepled her front hooves. "But if we are to be champions, we must shape the world with strength. So, Miss Octavia, let us review. What do the Elderati expect of ghouls?"

"To serve their master's whims, and to protect him with their lives," the sniper replied crisply.

"Good, good," the Lady nodded, "but if I asked you to sum that up in an action, what would you say the Elderati expect of those under their sway?"

The grey mare thought for a long moment. "To obey."

Bon Bon clapped her front hooves together. "Exactly. And that is what worries me, Octavia. You are not linked to your domitor by blood, but by gratitude and spirit. This is something I would like for you to consider." Her eyes narrowed. "What command runs through your veins?"

Before she could answer, the office's door creaked open, and a gryphon stuck his head inside. In one claw he clutched a mess of scrolls, and lumps from bandaged wounds were clearly visible through his uniform. He yawned. "Bunch of comms just came in, and-" The operative blinked, then remembered protocol and quickly asked, "permission to enter?"

"Granted." The Lady stood and fixed him with a glare. "Officer Rollins, you should be in the medical bay, not processing communications."

"Actually, you should be dead," Octavia clarified, her mind not perceiving the sentiment behind that fact until after she had spoken. "I mean..."

"Well, Asset, with well-wishing like that," the gryphon shuffled in and unloaded the scrolls onto the desk, then fished a particularly important one out of the pile. "It's a wonder I made it back alive, let alone bothering to get out of bed." It had been an easier decision than one might think. Nearly all the nurses were male, at least the ones assigned to his recovery ward. The proud gryphon-warrior inside him wanted to think it was because he intimidated the girls with his masculinity. The paranoid cynic had much more likely explanations.

"I only meant that you were horrifically wounded, you had five rounds in your body when I found you." The sixth had blown straight through him.

"Hades, you eat bullets like they're chocolate pellets. I figured I'd give it a try." The gryphon winced, then leaned against the desk and tried to avoid the other earth pony's gaze. "Don't look at me like that, m'lady."

"Until you decide to use the brain you were born with for something other than cryptography, I will continue to glare at you as though you repurposed it for zombie bait." Bon Bon was very good at glaring. "Your replacement organs are certainly not fully integrated yet, you need to rest. You've been stitched up enough to know the routine."

He waved the important scroll under her nose. "Yes, my lady."

She bit the scroll out of his claw, set it on the desk, and broke the seal. "I could have you thrown in the brig. You would get plenty of rest there."

"I'm just following your sterling example," he replied impishly. There were very few operatives who could get away with as much as he did. "Y'know, last year, you had a front leg blown off and were back to work within a week?" 

Lyra groaned, then poked the gryphon in the side as if to say, don't remind me. He winced in pain, and the maid-in-chief raised an eyebrow as she inspected his bandaged trunk.

Octavia looked closer as well, then gasped. "Your wing! What-"

"Docs took it off," he shrugged. "Too much damage to the bone structure. The other one turned out okay, though." Rollins spread it out as proof, then wobbled from the uneven weight.

"But... you... surely they can do something..." She covered her mouth, then whispered, "you will never be able to fly again?"

"Nope." Rollins shook his head. Octavia bit her lip. Then the gryphon grinned. "Not until they slap the new one on."

"Which they will not be able to do if your body rejects the cloned grafts. You need to rest, Officer Rollins." Her cool blue eyes softened. "Please."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll go back to sickbay." The gryphon yawned, and rubbed one of his eyes. "Yeah... I'll..." his eyelids started to drift shut, then popped wide open. "Oh, that!"

"That?" repeated the Lady Bon Hadescream, her eyes scanning over the important scroll.

"Crypto catacomb thinks the TAPDANCE protocols are compromised for the next week. A few of the magna-tapes were in a shipment that never reached its destination." He yawned again. "Y'know, if we switched over to some of the algorithms Twirly Codewheel and a few of the others down there came up with, we could-"

"I'll consider it," Bon Bon said in a flat tone, which quite clearly implied I dearly wish we had the money for every little thing, but for now it is just as good to throw out a week's worth of cryptography tapes.

The Lieutenant nodded, and began to slouch toward the door. "Yes'm, My Lady, I'll mention... that." He shook himself, then saluted. "To them. When I see 'em."

"Go directly to sickbay, Officer Rollins. Dismissed."

"Do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred bits," he mumbled as he shut the door behind himself.

Bon Bon sighed, then reached for a quill and began scribbling on the important scroll. Lyra let her finish, took the piece of parchment, then turned the creme mare around and pointed her head at the earth pony sitting quietly by her stool. A blush colored the businessmare's face. "I think that's all for today, Miss Octavia. You are dismissed."

"Thank you," said the grey mare. She gathered her supplies and put the stool away. Just as her hoof touched the door, she heard the Lady Bon Hadescream speak.

"Make sure Rollins gets to the recovery bay, would you kindly? If he works himself to death trying to prove his worth, I'll have to shoot him. Again."


* * *



The grey mare shivered. You feel her need. Blood. Victoria took a deep breath, and leaned back against the elevator wall. More than you can offer from your own veins. She had done it before, given Vinyl the blood of others to strengthen her. It was the same as... as cooking, was it not? Preparing food for a friend?

Her eyes drifted up toward the guards. Food. No, no, that was not the right word. She looked back at the floor. Prey.

Victoria repeated, her voice firmer this time, "wh... where are you taking me?" Outwardly, she projected fear. She was afraid that her friend was not okay, that the explosion had been too much for even Vinyl's chaotic regeneration. Octavia hardly knew what she would do without the madmare. She was afraid that she really was just another ghoul, a pawn to a vampire just like all the deluded fools she had slain... and worse, that she might not even care. A small part of her was afraid that if the grumblings in her stomach went on for too much longer, she might develop a taste for flesh as well. Those were the true sources of the fear in her eyes, but she knew the guards would see what they wanted to see.

Not guards, huntress, whispered a voice in her mind. Prey.
> Bastile (Part IV): Hémiones: Animaux Véloces
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	They were nearly to the top, if the blinking runes above the control panel were to be trusted. She had seen them glitch backward and flicker off several times already. Rollins would have some very choice words for whoever had disrespected the elevator's machine-spirits, but they were still attempting to honor their duty. Octavia pushed her inner qualms down, took a deep breath, and focused on her mission.

"Where," she looked up, careful not to make eye contact, "are you taking me?"

Her soft voice broke through the other earth pony's mutterings, and one of the guards finally decided that the best way to shut her up was to answer. "The Daughter must inspect the intruder," replied the unicorn, his face far more stern than Octavia expected of an Ecstasy cultist. "And the one who has defiled our Sanctuary by bringing her within its walls."

"I defiled nothing!" roared Grip Steel, "I only did-"

The other guard walloped him with the blunt end of his spear hard enough to knock the factory worker to the elevator floor. "Be silent. The Daughter will judge you." His eyes turned to the grey mare, and he glared at her as well. "Both of you."

The Daughter will not be the only one passing judgement, thought Octavia. She raised a hoof to her bow-tie and took comfort from the familiar token. And I have yet to see a cultist compound with guards that lacks something evil at its core. Now all she had to do was find that evil.

That was what separated the Bon Hadescream Organization from ARGUS. The Organization had a Charter, a thousand year old document that they honored. In that document was a requirement for evidence before action. Equestria was a land of courts and duly-elected mayors, not military governors and jackbooted thugs. This ruined hotel had probably hosted a conference or two in its prime, offering a venue to businessponies, political hopefuls, and perhaps even a convention or two of overzealous fans of some franchise or another. That was the way things were accomplished under Celestia's sun. Ponies worked together, played together, and made the world a little brighter. This civil society was protected by laws that sought to uphold the rights of the individual, and punish the wicked deeds of the criminal.

Such laws were vital to the survival of the society, and yet at the same time they were rather annoying for some who protected it. The Organization fought threats who survived by blending in with the population while making war against it. That was the key word, war. War was not crime, it was a beast of a different breed, one that had to be answered properly. Before an act of war could be answered, it had to be proven. This was not a secret law, enforced by shadowy conspirators who made up the rules as they played. The definition and punishment of treason was clearly defined in the Equestrian legal code, a copy of which could be found at any library. When that treason drifted into the realm of the paranormal, however, it fell within the Organization's purview.

The Charter was their authorization, but it was also their restraining order. It demanded proof that could be archived and produced later, even on days when your base camp was in ruin and your stomach was empty. It was what kept them from terrorizing innocents, or usurping the civilian government. That document kept the Organization holding the line rather than tying it into a noose. It was how they had endured for almost a thousand years. As the Lady Bon Hadescream put it: "The means make the ends, just like the way food is cooked defines how it tastes."

A single numeral X flickered above the control panel as the elevator halted at the top floor. Octavia glanced from side to side as the guards hustled them out. The walls were decorated with garish tapestries and paintings that were far more concerned with invoking carnal desires than demonstrating artistic skill. As they walked down the corridors of the former hotel, she felt a curious kinship with a worm wriggling through a rotting corpse. Her coat was certainly dirty enough, and her father had always spoken about the nobility of the worm. It fed on strong and weak, caring not what one had been in life, and served to feed the mighty bird who chanced upon it. For some reason, that brought to mind a memory of Rollins pecking gummy worms out of a paper cup. Octavia averted her eyes from the walls. While the cultists might have found the decor beautiful, she knew that an unguarded mind was like a fortress with its gates open.

They passed a still-intact pane of glass that looked down upon the vast central plaza of the hotel. Once it had been a flourishing botanical garden, and Octavia could still see many planters strung between floors of the hotel, along with the twisting tubes for the irrigation system that had fed the delicate plants. Pegasi must have zipped through the webs of planters, unicorns would have carefully maintained the solar reflectors on the roof above, and earth ponies certainly would have tended the trees planted at ground level.

None of those rare blooms remained. In their place hung platters of curious flora that were tended for reasons other than their beauty or taste. The old trees had been cut down and turned into planks, their soil given over to herbs and shrubberies. Wild vines ran up the walls of the garden, and had even curled into the structure of the hotel itself. They were covered in brightly colored buds that seeped some kind of narcotic. What had once been a place of beauty and elegance had been given over to hedonism and unchecked rot.

She noticed a curious construction at the center of the ground floor, but her escorts hustled them past the glass pane too quickly for her to get a proper look. There seemed to be only a few ponies on this floor who were not wearing leather armor. A few cast interested glances at the group, and one chuckled at her as she walked by. Victoria avoided eye contact and hid behind her long black mane. She noticed that many had odd metal studs driven through their flesh. Some had rings in their noses, a simple metal circle fashioned in the shape of a snake eating its own tail. Grip Steel glanced about nervously. One of the guards reached out to slap his flank with a wing as they passed. He yelped, then clamped his tail tight against his rump.

Undisciplined, unfocused. Confident in their superiority. Preference for close quarters combat, no visible ranged weapons. Octavia let her outer body radiate fear and timidity, while inside was a pool of calm. There was only the mission. Mostly unicorns, likely with strong magic. Several certainly will be able to manifest shields, unless they truly are without discipline. That was well enough. A shield was only useful if you saw your killer coming. All she needed now was that dollop of evidence. For the moment, they were mere criminals, guilty only of minor misdeeds such as the possession of narcotics and the usage of forbidden runes. Perhaps some of those plants were illegal to grow, but none seemed particularly malevolent. In theory they were not trespassing, but Rollins did not have notes on who exactly owned the dilapidated hotel. The Bon Hadescream Organization did not fight criminals, that was beyond the reach of their Charter. She had to find that core of evil, both for the Organization's sake and her own conscience.

After a few more moments of winding through corridors, they reached the end of the line. Her escorts threw open a pair of doors, then pushed them into a room filled with candles and reeking of incense. The factory worker coughed a few times, and the cellist mimicked the action. She knew those scents, recognized them as generic dopers that muddled the mind and made you vulnerable to suggestion. The grey mare shifted to shallow breaths, and kept her tongue under tight control. These were still criminals. She was not a mad gunmare in an ARGUS greatcoat.

"Approach," cooed a mare swaddled in silks. She perched atop a garish throne of fine oak and glittering gemstones. Octavia saw there were only two guards by the throne, both strapping young stallions with tight leather armor and golden piercings. One was a pegasus, the other an earth pony. Neither wore headgear that would discourage a lasbolt, but they did look very intimidating. Octavia felt she had a good grasp of how the cult was governed. They hold power by carrot and stick. Oppress and reward. Not so different from ARGUS, if one thought about it enough. For an instant, she thought something had clicked inside the case on her back, but knew it was her imagination.

The mare in silk sat upright, then looked down at them through a mask trimmed with glitter. Her horn protruded proudly above it, and was ornamented with a ring cut from emerald. Octavia could see though the silks that her hooves were neatly painted with red polish. She moved as one unaccustomed to doing much for herself, and held a long-stemmed pipe in one fetlock. Although the multicolored clothing covered up her body to the point that it was hard to discern the natural color of her fur or mane, she was obviously very well fed.

Octavia felt her stomach grumble. If this charade went on much longer, she would be hungry enough to eat a small horse. Wait, what? The thought had surprised her, but did not breach the mask of fear. Victoria whimpered softly as she was forced to her knees, and curled her legs against her body. The factory worker lay flat against the floor next to her, his eyes shut and his mouth moving slowly without producing a sound. Snuggling back into her silks, the mare on the throne raised that curious pipe to her mouth and inhaled deeply. Smoke floated up from her nostrils. Between the silks, gemstones, and smoke, she resembled nothing so much as one of those dragons on the tapestries hung throughout the Bon Hadescream Organization's central command castle.

In the time it took for her to continue, Octavia estimated that the Lady Bon Hadescream would have completed seven millimeters of paperwork, made two life-or-death decisions for her Company, and reluctantly let her maidservant feed her a few mouthfuls of soup. Finally, the unicorn spoke. With a pleasant but cold voice, she asked, "why have you interrupted my journey of joy?"

The guards spoke, but Octavia did not hear their words, just the way they spoke them. She is a revered leader, the guards are using humble tones. Supreme authority in the building, possibly of the entire cult- No, they were not a cult, not just yet, merely a band of criminals. Perhaps mere narcotic dealers. I was not properly brought into the fold. Common charity is not their way, after all they do have something to hide. All new applicants to the group would have to be properly indoctrinated, a mundane precaution. She had been invited in and fed. Well, almost fed. That was not their way. They offered inclusion and pleasure if you followed their rules, then wrapped it all in a thin veil of mysticism.

Knowledge. That is what they are selling, some hidden knowledge that makes you better than the rest of the world... but you can never hold it, it is yours only while you follow their little road of secrets. Victoria was still terrified, but Octavia had to fight back a smile. It was always the same, the cults claimed that you had to earn what the forces of Harmony offered freely. She had wanted something as simple as a meal, offered without question by many charities or bought for a small fee at a store. Even so, that alone would not make them enemies of the realm. They were within their rights to do such things on their own private property... even if Rollins had not been able to figure out who owned this old place. She would let the small matter of being detained against her will slide, for the moment.

"...we have brought them before you, oh Daughter most illuminated by the Great Glow, so that you might divine wisely what is to be done with the interloper and the idiot." The guard clicked his hind heels together when he finished, then raised one front leg in a salute.

The girl thinks she is Celestia. Octavia had to hold back a dignified smirk. But, the Charter does not condemn opulence. Her body tensed. There was a total of six guards in the room, and the incense was beginning to affect her reactions. The plush carpet under her hooves would be poor for maneuvering, and it would take her several seconds to unlock her cello case before she could draw out the weapon hidden inside. The sniper's mind began to tease at the problem, searching for a better way to cut short the lives of everypony else in the room if the need arose. A shame that they were all out of white-phosphorus. Rollins had been tinkering with something he called a Tesla grenade, based on some interesting archaeotech a contractor had recently recovered, but that was still a sketch in grease pencil on a slate.

What would Vinyl do? The ghoul wondered while The Daughter rubbed her chin. A horrible image sprang into her mind, and she quickly batted it away to maintain her composure. That could not stop a cheesy one-liner from echoing through her thoughts: hey, didja know gold's a conductive metal? Ride the Lightning boys, I like mine extra-crispy!

"I am disappointed with you, lay-brother Grip Steel," the mare in silk finally said. "You have let your enthusiasm overcome your common sense." She took another puff from her pipe. "For all you know, this mare you have invited in is the very harbinger of our destruction."

No, that would be Vinyl. Octavia thought. I am just the substitute cellist, since the harbinger is in torpor in a metal barrel right now. A touch of pettiness pushed another thought into her mind. Nopony wants to hear classical music anymore, just that whap-bang-boom "rock" or the thudding stuff Vinyl plays so much of. Can nopony appreciate a well-performed piece with a touch of subtlety?

"What have you to say for yourself?"

The factory worker swallowed hard. "She was hungry, Daughter Scoffing Song. I felt my inner spark guiding me to feed her, so she might be of use to the Fellowship."

"You did, did you." The unicorn leaned forward and squinted through the eyeholes of her mask. "Hrmm... and did your inner spark also tell you to desert your post, and endanger those who you are in Fellowship with?" She tapped her chin. "You know how perilous the moment is, you better than most, for was it not with your own hooves that you laid the foundations of the Circle?"

Victoria shivered, then made sure her bow-tie was fastened securely around her neck.

"Yes, oh Daughter."

"Hrmm... but, you seem to have brought a musician into our haven." Her voice turned from annoyed to entrancing. "Tell me, my little pony, what is your name, and what do you do?"

Octavia. I have come here to eat pasta and end lives, and I seem to be all out of pasta. Oh bother, now she was starting to think like Vinyl. This unicorn had some skill, the silver-tongued undertones of that question had almost forced an unguarded reply out of the grey mare. There was a hint of foul magic in her words too. Between that and the incense, most ponies would have found it too easy to spill their guts. "V-Victoria, miss. I play..." she swallowed, "I used to play my cello in the orchestra."

"Then They cast her out, oh Daughter, as They cast me out," the factory worker added. "I could hear the pain in her words, and my inner spark dimmed for her."

"Truly?" the unicorn pushed her mask down with a glow of her horn and looked at them over the top of it. "Hmm. What orchestra did you say you were part of?"

"The Third Avenue Philharmonic, I also performed in the Forty-Second Floor Symphony," Victoria replied humbly. A tear formed in one eye, but she blinked it away, as though repressing happy memories that would never be felt again.

A look of surprise crossed the unicorn's face. She had been expecting this "cellist" to sputter and stall, but she had rattled off two high-class local orchestras with barely a blink. The Daughter had recently attended a performance by the Third Avenue Philharmonic, and it had been most enjoyable. A shame she had to hide such dalliances from her followers, but she did hard things for the Great Glow, and so could afford to live like the "rich" once in a while. "And, ah, you said you were the first chair cellist in the Third Avenue Philharmonic?"

That seemed to strike a chord with the grey mare. She shut her eyes and slowly shook her head. "N-no, miss. I was first chair in the Forty-Second, not in the Third Avenue Philharmonic. I tried, I truly did, but I was not... what they wanted to show."

The Daughter raised an eyebrow, her thoughts drifting back to that performance she had attended. She had paid no mind to it at the time, but all of the leading parts were held by unicorns. "I... see." In her heart, she could hardly fault the Philharmonic. If you were trying to appeal to a high class cloud, why put an earth pony out in front? Still, she was the Daughter, and such discrimination was good for rabble-rousing. This girl was certainly no gang spy. Though she looked scruffy and hungry, she lacked that rabid gleam in her eyes. The Daughter twisted up her mouth, still trying to figure out why she had that odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was about to launch into a more thorough interrogation when she noticed a look of sympathy on the faces of a few of her guards.

Blast the girl, she was winning them over with a sob story! That was the downside of the mind-muddling incense, it was not keyed to her words alone. Anypony's attempts at persuasion were bolstered by its scent. Still... why would she be that familiar with these orchestras if she had not been a part of them? Perhaps all this really was an overreaction. She took a puff from her pipe, hoping that the smoke would clear her mind.

Octavia kept her breaths shallow and reviewed her facts. She had spoken with that street musician for a few moments after a bag of bits had mysteriously appeared inside the performer's case. At the time, she had no idea the things she had learned would be useful, it was merely a gift from one survivor to another. That little act of generosity had provided the cornerstone of her cover story. The rest came from her own heart.

"Well, Victoria, it seems..." the unicorn's voice trailed off. She had finally noticed what her subconscious had picked up on long ago. Her guards. They were paying more attention to this new girl than to her. The mare in silk settled back into her throne. Yes, this girl was very pretty. She had curves in just the right places, even though one could tell that she had been living rough for some time. It was easy enough to believe her story, she had heard far stranger ones from other members of her Fellowship... but Scoffing Song used more than blind faith to ensure her authority. Other pretty mares, especially those who did not understand their place, tended to upset the balance she maintained.

The unicorn humphed quietly, and took another puff from her pipe. Was she not the Daughter, the most enlightened of them all? Of course she was, and that meant she should be the most adored. Her inner spark guided her to a devilish plan, one that would ensure not only her continued worship, but also bring about her long awaited ascension ahead of schedule. "It seems you have certainly come to where you are most needed, and it was good of Grip Steel to see your potential."

Both earth ponies looked up in surprise, one with vindication, the other with confusion.

The Daughter held out her front legs and smiled down at them. "We have worked long and hard to raise up one of the fallen Great Powers, unfairly cast from his rightful place by those of our race who believe foolish things." She stood from her throne, and her silks rustled as she stretched. "Our Fellowship is made of the forgotten, the disenfranchised, the hungry and homeless. We are those who have no place in this world that Celestia claims to rule, but in truth she has only stolen it from its true owners. In exchange for our help, one of these exiled Great Powers has promised us," she took a breath for dramatic effect, then spread her forelegs wide, "pleasures that our feeble minds cannot even imagine!" That was mostly true, except for one small word. Us.

Victoria tucked a few stray strands of her mane back, and cast an uncertain look at the factory worker. He nodded. "It's true. We will rise up and overthrow all the oppressors, we'll fight anypony who stands in our way, and we'll take back what's ours!"

"Do you... does everypony here... believe that?" the cellist asked meekly.

"Every last one," replied the factory worker. His eyes shifted slightly as he remembered a few that were purposefully kept from some of the more demanding truths, lest their inner sparks not be fully unbound by the revelation. The Daughter obviously thought this one was ready, though, and he congratulated himself for finding her. "We all have stories just like yours, of the rich keeping us down. They're the evil ones, not us." He reached out to the other earth pony. "Will you join our cause?"

Victoria bit her lip. "I... I have come this far. I must do what has been set before me." She let him take her hoof with his, and smiled with just a hint of uncertainty.

"Oh, about that," said Daughter Scoffing Song. "Grip Steel, rise. Come to my side."

The factory worker looked up in confusion, glanced between the scruffy grey mare and the silk-clad unicorn for a moment, then let go of Victoria's hoof. He walked toward the throne and bowed his head. "Yes, oh Daughter most bright?"

"You've done so very well, my faithful follower," she kissed his cheek. "You have found the last piece for your masterwork."

He blinked, then slowly realized what she meant. The incense was thick in his nostrils, but somehow he found the strength to protest. "I... I was thinkin' she would be more like a new recruit. I mean, she hates the rich an' all that. She understands."

The cult leader made a show of appraising the grey mare, then shook her head. "No, she has the look of one with too many reservations... and she is pure in heart and body." Scoffing Song chuckled, she could tell such things. "We have enough of the faithful already, and I grow weary of waiting. You understand, don't you?" The unicorn touched his front with a painted hoof. "What does your inner spark say?"

For a moment, he looked as though he was about to throw up. Then she whispered something into his ear, and the sickly expression faded into one of glee. Grip Steel turned his head toward the grey mare, who had a puzzled expression on the half of her face not hidden behind her mane.

"What do you two mean? I... you do not want me?" Victoria asked, her voice trembling a little. "You... you do not want me either?" The cellist swallowed hard. "Just like Them?"

"Oh," cooed the unicorn, "we want you, my little pony. Go on, my faithful one. Tell her what we have in mind."

Grip Steel looked between the frightened earth pony and the fiendish unicorn again. It was time to choose, but the decision was easier than he might have expected. The Fellowship was where he belonged, that little buzz some called a conscience was just more poison They had put into him. "A sacrifice," the stallion said calmly. He had to follow his inner spark to be free. "For the greater good of all, of course. A sacrifice will allow us to complete the ritual today." That was what he had heard, at least. He had only made the physical structure of the Circle, the rest was up to the unicorns.

"Ritual?" Victoria gasped. "What ritual?"

"Weren't you listening, dearie?" the witch cackled. "We're calling up the soul of one of the Great Old Ones, a Carpathian Dragon... and we need a tasty morsel for him to gobble." She nodded with exaggerated gratitude toward the grey mare. "Thank you for offering yourself, it takes one of strong spirit indeed to serve as bait."

"Bait?" Victoria whispered, then covered her mouth.

"It's for the best," the factory worker assured her. It really was, the Daughter always knew what was best for everypony. "And you'll get your revenge just like the rest of us, I promise. Thank you, Miss Victoria."

"I... I was just hungry, you cannot-" she collapsed to the floor, legs weak from fear.

"Who's going to stop us, dearie?" the Daughter laughed, and ushered her follower toward the door. "Go ahead. Scream. Nopony will hear you." She took a breath, savoring the thrill of power. With a word, she could condemn one to die and push another to the heights of jubilation. This was the truest pleasure, to rule over life and death, to drink deep of her own strength and see the world shaped in ways that pleased her. This was what that tyrant of the sun had claimed for herself, but what one had stolen another could steal back. There was no pleasure greater than the seizing and exercise of power. "Your life was already poured out by the sun, squandered on her great lie of Harmony. We are giving what remains of you to a better purpose."

Grip Steel bobbed his head in agreement. "Besides, this is still better than getting preached at by those Educarchy nuts."

Victoria blinked back tears. "Please, I..." The mare begged, just as one might imagine she had begged to keep her place in the upper tiers of society. "I will do anything, hard labor or any small task. I will clean, I can mend clothes, or-or change candles, or wash dishes, or..." her voice trailed off as she saw no trace of remorse in the unicorn's eyes. The grey mare swallowed hard, then implored in her most polite tone that trembled only a very little, "I do not want to die."

"What we want, and what we are given, are often two different things. We have to seize life, take what we want from it, and pursue where our inner sparks lead." The Daughter stood at the door, then pointed at the guards who had brought the grey mare before her. "You two have done well, and deserve a reward. Prepare her for sacrifice." With a glow of her horn she pulled open the doors and stepped outside, along with her follower and the other guards. At the sound of soft sobs, the Daughter turned back to the grey mare. "Oh, buck up. You probably weren't that good of a musician anyway."

The doors slammed shut, leaving Victoria trapped in the incense-filled room with two snickering leather-bound stallions. Or, from another point of view, leaving two enemies of Equestria trapped with a hungry ghoul...
> Bastile (Part V): Tortues
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The grey mare heard the two stallions striding closer. Victoria forced herself to stop sniffling. She lay on the floor, her body trembling, still facing away from the approaching guards. One whispered something to the other, and both laughed. After a cough, she begged, "please. I do not wish to die."

"It's the Daughter's will," one replied, his voice considerably less stern now. "Her will be done."

"But..." chuckled the other leather-bound pony, "we might be open to persuasion..."

Victoria wiped her eyes and stood. She turned to them with a pleading smile. "I... I could play my cello for you."

The guard on her left shook his head. "Nah, I never much liked music. I was always one for something I could wrap my hooves around."

"Oooh, I'll play your cello till it snaps, though," his partner said, then leered at the defenseless earth pony. "You'll be all ready for sacrificin' when we're done with you."

"P-please, no," Victoria whimpered. "I would make a poor offering. I am malnourished," she stepped backward, "I-I was promised something to eat, am I to be denied even that final request?"

"I'll give ya a last meal," snickered one of the stallions. He flexed his hindlegs and flicked his tail to the side. "Good and filling."

A pink blush to match her bow-tie rushed across the grey mare's cheeks. She swallowed hard. "Please... you could say I took you by surprise and overpowered you, or that I... I was too quick and slipped away!" Her eyes darted between their faces, looking for some trace of sympathy. "Have you no tremble in your heart that says this is wrong?"

"Yeah. But my inner spark says it's right, and so far that spark's given me way more fun times than that other thing." The guard rolled his neck and pointed his spear at her. His partner duplicated the gesture.

The cellist waited until they were within two meters, then gently straightened her bow-tie. "I... I suppose... that is all, then." She took a shallow breath, mindful of the incense, and hung her head. Victoria shrugged off her black cello case, letting it hit the floor with a heavy thump, then brushed back her mane. "I am afraid I will make a poor sacrifice for your monster..." the grey mare lifted her head and looked them in the eyes. "But you will make an excellent one for mine."

Goodnight, Victoria.

Octavia lunged forward, grabbed the guard on her left's spear, and knocked him to the ground as she ripped it from his grasp. He gasped in surprise, but the runes on his armor glowed as they turned the blunt trauma to a delicious pain. The guard tried to grapple her, so the grey mare punched him in the side of his head. Before he could recover, she shoved the spear tip through his unarmored throat and threw him into his comrade. The two of them collapsed in a heap, one gushing blood and screaming in pleasure, the other shouting in confusion.

She drew a key from inside her bow-tie and unlocked her cello case, then rolled away to avoid an enraged charge from the second guard. The earth pony felt something tug at her tail, and glanced back before delivering a hard kick into the face of the stallion with the spear through his neck. A satisfying crack and his bite slipping off her tail was her reward. She shifted focus to the other target, but the fog in her mind from the incense slowed her reaction to the second guard's magically-propelled spear.

The grey mare dropped to the floor, but too slow. She felt the spear gouge a chunk of flesh from her back as it narrowly missed. Blood welled from the wound and began to ooze down her sides. Octavia bit back a grunt, for it would have been most unladylike, and sprung back onto her hooves. One guard was motionless on the floor, and the other's spear was curving back around for another try. She could taste that wretched incense in her nostrils, and glanced down to find a bowl full of it burning next to her.

With one smooth action, she scooped up the pottery and hurled it at the standing guard, who was too focused on his ensorcelling to dodge in time. Hot liquid splashed over him as the clay bowl broke. The thrill of pleasure as it scorched his flesh broke his concentration. His aura wavered, and the grey mare calmly snatched his spear out of the air. Her stomach gurgled and her wound throbbed as she leaped towards the guard, tackled him to the ground, and drove the speartip through the back of his skull with the strength her domitor had given her.

Octavia took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it as she broke into a fit of coughing. The stench of burned flesh and incense clogged her nose. An instant of vertigo washed over her as hunger and those scents assaulted her mind. She found herself staring at the guard she had just slain. Not guards, huntress, something from the depths of her psyche whispered again, prey.

How... would it... taste? As soon as the thought materialized, she felt ill. The grey mare staggered back to her cello case and pulled it onto her back. Air. I need air, and a touch of sunlight... She stopped next to the other guard and pressed a hoof to his neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none. Octavia had killed him. A curious sensation of strength seemed to drain into her body as she acknowledged that. It was a sensation she had experienced many times in the past two years, and she used it to force herself to the room's exit.

The grey mare gently pushed open one of the double doors. Fresh air, or as fresh as it got in this cultist-infested hovel, tickled her nose. She glanced from right to left in search of more guards, spotted a nearby service hallway, and quickly vanished down it. A thought struck her, and she checked the wound on her back. It was still oozing, but not enough to leave a trail that would give her away. Vinyl's strength was running through her veins, letting her heal far faster than any mortal should, but she could feel her stomach twisting even tighter as her body repaired itself. The thought of what fresh flesh might do to fill that ache inside her returned. It seemed ever so slightly less repulsive this time...

Vinyl. I have seen Vinyl eat... no. The Asset moved on silent hooves, carefully picking each step across the thin wood that patched holes in the service corridor's floor. Those long sessions of close-quarters-combat training at Central had just proven their worth again, but sneaking over rough ground was a skill she had learned long before joining the Organization. This passage had not been decorated like the main corridors, instead it was cluttered with forgotten junk. Octavia took a turn, then followed the hallway to its end and found a boarded-over window. The old planks were already rotting, prying them free was an easy enough job. For a reward she stuck her head outside and filled her lungs with truly fresh morning air. High above, Celestia's sun smiled down on her.

Your Majesty... thought Octavia, knowing that it was foolish but doing it all the same, I know I am just an earth pony. I know I cannot ever atone for the things I have done... but I am doing my part for Harmony, just like you are. It was her imagination, she was sure of it, but the sun seemed a little warmer on her face. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that the wound on her back had completely healed. That was of course thanks to her friend's gift, not some mystical touch from the Princess of the Sun... and yet, ever since the day she had seen her parents die, Octavia had known there was a place for her in Harmony. Forgiveness had been hers for the asking, followed by go forth and sin no more. She had set her safety and walked away. The earth pony had gladly embraced poverty as a cellist, even though she could have lived very comfortably as a Jäger... until the Organization offered her a chance at more than just forgiveness. This was her duty. This was what she had been born for, and she was determined to be a profitable Asset. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the window and into a nearby storage closet.

The room was large enough to store several of the hotel's cleaning carts, but those had long ago been wheeled out and misused. Octavia took a deep breath. She had shut the doors to the throne room before sneaking away, and hoped for a short window of opportunity before anypony checked up on her attempted molesters. The mare was tired, hungry, and scatterbrained. With another deep breath, she slowly stretched her legs and neck, easing out the fear and reminding herself that she was in control of her body. The sniper tried to find a pleasant memory that would calm her mind.

This reminded her of waiting backstage at a concert. The venue was booked, and the audience confirmed. She had her instrument in the case on her back, and she was ready to perform. All she had to do was check with the stage manager. Octavia had never much cared for agents or managers, especially since most were more interested in her flank than her cello, but this one had never let her down. She opened her cello case, and reached into a hidden slip on its lining. Inside was a comm-bead, which she settled comfortably into her ear. "Wind, this is Strings. Do you copy, over?"

"Affirmative," crackled back. "That pretty transmitter around your neck got everything." Up on the roof, the gryphon tugged a crystal disk out of his voxpack and stuffed it into an armored pouch. "Out of the frying pan, into the dragon's mouth... literally this time." Rollins sighed. "Your little discovery has ratcheted things up."

"What is a Carpathian Dragon?" she asked. "The name seems familiar, but I cannot place it."

"Well, historical and archeological analysis tells us that at the end of the Age of the Imperium Dracon there were a number of transmortalist cabals dedicated to the..." Rollins began, then stopped himself. "They're dragons. Nasty dragons. The full story is long and complicated, like most things related to dragons. The good news is we are going to stop these nutty cultists before that story gets another chapter tacked on."

"I understand, sir. Time is of the essence." That was actually something of a blessing. If her subconscious kept searching for her memories about dragons, it would not be as eager to worry about other things.

"Okay, Strings. The overall plan hasn't changed. We need to clear out this building. But, mopping ten floors room-by-room isn't gonna be doable with the resources available."

Octavia nodded to herself as she pulled on the uniform stashed inside the cello case. "That was why we planned a decapitation strike." The cello case itself was of course custom-made, and able to store a plethora of useful items. It was bulletproof, blast-resistant, and capable of protecting her beloved instrument from nearly any horrid end imaginable so long as the lid was latched shut. "I know the target now. This is a pleasure-cult. Their leader is referred to as The Daughter. Executing her publicly should demoralize the rest of the cult."

A chill ran down the gryphon's spine as she spoke. With a swift kick, he stashed the body of the guard who had come to investigate his stunned comrade next to a few other corpses. The lance corporal lay behind cover a meter away, her lasrifle trained on the roof access door and her eyes searching for any airborne sentries they might have missed. Rollins had to admit, she was a good shot. They had taken these guards in less than thirty seconds. "What did you have in mind?"

The grey mare breathed in slowly. Even the cleaning supplies stored in this closet smelled better than that incense. She liked a candlelit dinner or an hour at the spa as much as the next girl, doubly so because they were such rare treats, but these cultists did not seem to know the word moderation. "Their leader is probably still on the tenth floor. There is a large central area that used to be a botanical garden." The sniper began loading equipment into her pockets, but had to stop and lean against the wall when the churning in her stomach became too much to ignore. I should not have thought about candlelit dinners. She fought down the nausea, locked it away in its own little cage, and forced herself upright again. Vinyl is counting on me. I cannot let her down. "I will eliminate her guards, and throw her through a window into the central area. If any pegasi attempt to intervene, I will eliminate them as well."

Rollins was quiet for a moment. It was a textbook strike. Cults operated on charisma and fear. Cut off the source of those, and they fell apart. That was the supreme art of war, to subdue the enemy without fighting. The lieutenant knew those things thanks to years of schooling at Pendulum, supplemented by a front row seat to the Lady Bon Hadescream's great brain. Still, he got a curious feeling in his heart whenever the grey mare talked about it, as though she had reached into his chest and given the blood-pump a cold squeeze. If he was completely honest, sometimes she terrified him. "Good plan." Rollins forced a smirk. "But all I heard was, I did nothing, the pavement was her enemy!" He stretched his wings and adjusted the straps on his voxpack. "What are you gonna do if she's not on the tenth floor?"

"I will find her." The grey mare tucked a magazine of bullets into a pocket. "Then I will improvise." In her heart, Octavia held no grudge against Miss Scoffing Song for condemning her to a horrible death and leaving her to be violated by a pair of oafish stallions. Vinyl had done almost the same thing on several occasions, but usually it was an accident. This was a tactical decision, one she had made with a calm mind. The death of one leader could break the back of a rebellion. Seeing one comrade die by the touch of an unseen sniper would instill fear in even the stoutest of hearts. Her father had argued that it was a kindness. By killing one upstart, many more could be reminded of their place in the world. Then they would scurry back to that place in the hope of living out the rest of their miserable lives. Octavia squeezed her eyes shut. Manipulation and Execution. These skills will be infinitely valuable to you. She gritted her teeth and forced the distraction away. This was different.

Unaware of the Asset's inner turmoil, the gryphon twiddled his talons. Here came the hard part. He glanced down at the crystal disk, containing all the evidence they needed, then over at the lance corporal. They trust you, Rollins. Don't screw this one up. He cleared his throat. "Strings... nice job on the recon infiltration. I know we knew they were cult-heads, but I... I didn't want to pull the trigger until we had hard intel." With a glance over his shoulder, he pulled out a slate and jotted down a checkmark next to part of his plan. "I know that must have taken a lot out of you. If you need to stand down, you may. We can handle this." Exactly how, he was not sure. Still, he knew the sniper well enough to be sure that the offer would only be accepted if she honestly could not go on. An Asset was just like a voxpack, you could only push it so far before it broke down. And when that happens, I gotta fix it.

Octavia swallowed hard. Her stomach rumbled, and she felt fear snapping at the base of her brain. She knew she was more than a weapon, more than just a tool that hammered down nails, but right now all the grey mare felt certain of was that she was hungry and alone. Vinyl was in a barrel, Rollins was on the roof, and this whole city seemed to want her dead. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like sitting down and having a good cry. Or, she could push down her emotions, pick up her gun, and be a good little weapon. Kill whoever she was told to kill, do whatever she was told to do, stare at the world with cold eyes because it hurt worse to think about her life. Just do whatever Rollins tells you. You were born to obey your betters.

For some reason she did not quite understand, she stepped out of the supply room. Sunlight fell down the corridor, ending right at her hooves. The grey mare took a deep breath, then walked into the sunbeam. I am my own mare. This is my choice, my part in Harmony. This is where I belong, fighting at the side of worthy comrades. That was how Equestria endured. Ponies were willing to fight for their freedom, their rights, their loved ones. She was not a tool, but a warrior. An assassin. All these things were so clear when she was strong and filled with good food, but temptation always came at one's weakest moment. Octavia stepped back into the supply room and pressed a hoof to her ear. This was her choice. "I am status green, sir."

A grin broke across the gryphon's beak. "Glad to hear it, Strings. Stand by for orders." He twisted a knob to include the ground-entry squad on the channel. "Ivory, come in, over."

"Ivory team copies. In position, over."

"As an officer of the Bon Hadescream Organization, I have evidence in my possession to prove that this group is conducting activities that are considered acts of war against Equestria. Therefore, on the authority granted me under the Charter, I find every willfully complicit member of this group to be in a state of war against Her Solar Majesty's subjects." He took a breath. Today there was nopony around he could pass this job to. "In response, I order that the threat this cult poses be removed any means necessary. All operatives are now weapons-free, and ordered to engage at discretion. Verify, over."

"Ivory team copies. Assault order confirmed." On the ground floor, the unicorn glanced at the rest of his team to confirm they had heard. "Proceeding with the plan, over."

"Strings copies. Weapons-free order confirmed, standing by." He had to authorize her part of the mission a little differently. She was not seeking targets of opportunity.

Rollins glanced down at the pegasus, who smiled up at him. "Wind-two copies, sir."

"Wind-one confirms. Good hunting, Ivory. Over and out." The gryphon rolled his shoulders. See, that was easy. Not as good as the Lady could have done, but acceptable. He toggled back to the Asset only. "Strings."

"Yes, sir?" the grey mare said as she drew an autopistol from inside the case. It was a beautiful weapon, an ancient relic restored by the Organization's armorers. She fed it a magazine, and felt the trigger rune warm against her hoof. Some said that the soul of Vladof himself had been split into a hundred thousand fragments and strewn throughout the world to seek homes in the weapons he had inspired. Others claimed that he had sewn a bit of his genius into their designs, but only certain ones that were assembled just so would truly manifest his brilliance. The old legends tickled her ears, but she knew that this firearm was far more than a mere mechanical wonder. It had a will all of its own. A shame that its will so rarely involved single shots.

"I am issuing a kill-order. Find the head of this cult. Eliminate her." He paused. "Do you find this to be a lawful order, over?"

"Yes, sir. Over."

"Then carry it out." And just like that, Rollins knew he had killed somepony. He had done it before. Hades, he had just finished doing it with his own claws, but ordering the Asset to do it always felt different. The gryphon shook his wings to rid himself of the feeling. "Engage any targets that get in your way. We need this building cleared of everything not bearing a Bon Hadescream logo." After that, I can start working on my next trick. Getting us out of the city alive. "And... Strings," he paused, searching for the right words. When the bucket scraped the bottom of his snark well, he reluctantly decided to speak plainly. "Please be careful. You don't have it backing you up this time."

Octavia smiled, and shut the lid on her cello case. "Affirmative, sir. Strings out."

He switched back to the command frequency and started mulling over the rest of the intel that the grey mare had gathered. A Carpathian Dragon? These clowns couldn't summon a sneeze with a snuffbox. Still... Frack, if they're serious about dragging up one of those things, it could level a kilometer or two. He drummed his talons on his voxpack thoughtfully. Then there was that big one we couldn't bring down, out in the swamps... Rollins chuckled quietly, which drew an odd look from the lance corporal. No way they could pull up something like that here, though.

"Sir?"

"Nothin', just a memory that's too classified for me to know about," he smiled. Her eyes widened, and he cut off the incoming question, "a paperwork-related memory, lance corporal." Yeah, the kind where all the paperwork gets burned, but all the shrinks in the world can't claw that silhouette of sky-fire back out of your retinas. The gryphon checked his lasgun's powerpack, made sure his neural stunner was snug in its holster, and nodded to the lance corporal. "C'mon. Let's boogie with extreme prejudice."

The pegasus groaned as she covered his advance toward the roof access door. "Sir, that was horrible."
> Bastile (Part VI): L'éléphant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Did you bring it, mon ange?" asked the mare as she sidled up next to him. She had just finished a painting, a beautiful work of art if she did say so herself. Most of her work went to the market for sale to raise funds for the Fellowship, but this one was a private commission for a wealthy patron. The Daughter had said it was fine, as long as she tithed on it. Still, it had been a hard piece, and the artist needed to mellow out.

"Yup." He held up a bag and rustled its contents. "Just cut these leaves myself." The earth pony grinned. "Sure you don't want to save it for the big event tonight?"

"It's going to be bigger than you know," she whispered as they trotted along together. "I heard The Daughter has something special up her sleeve, we might even fulfill The Ritual!"

The stallion raised an eyebrow. "Woah, if that's true we won't need these at all. We'll be too busy spreading the good vibes and puffin' the ashes of the oppressors." A coy grin crossed his muzzle. "In that case, it'd be a shame to waste them..."

"May as well put the fruits of your labor to good use, no?" she giggled. They stepped out of the stairwell and onto the ground floor. "Come, it's just this way." The two of them had met because of needs. She needed to relax after painting, and he needed a mare that could understand him. They had started as smoking companions, but drifted closer together over the months. He was a grower, raising the best herbs and making them into the good stuff they sold to street-pushers. She used her magic to make things of beauty, and the Daughter trusted her with some minor mystical secrets. Both were united by the ties of the Fellowship, laboring as equals under the Daughter's wise gaze. The mare urged him to move a little faster, her body craving the release he carried.

"Easy girl, I'm a soldier for peace, not a track star!"

"Oh, mon chéri, a soldier? You ran and hid when those strung out gang members attacked two months ago," she laughed. "I had to do all the fighting for you."

He blushed. "Didn't have a heater then." The stallion grinned at her. "Any of them gangers get stupid ideas again, I'll turn 'em into fertilizer." They were all soldiers of the Great Glow here, well almost all. Everypony had to have their inner sparks ready to fight for the Daughter, for a day was coming when they would dethrone all those who had pushed them down. Those who had lived in squalor for so long would strike down the greedy, and peace would flood the land forevermore!

"Quiet you," she shushed him. "You're always bragging about your endurance." The mare tugged him down a service corridor nopony ever used.

"Hey, doesn't this lead to a door to the outside?" he asked uncertainly. The stallion rarely set hoof outside the Fellowship's sanctuary. Others sold his products and brought him what he needed, and that was the way he liked it.

"This entrance is all blocked off," she reassured him with a pat. "I checked on it just yesterday to make sure there was no rust or... anything..." Her voice trailed off as they turned a corner.

The door to the outside lay on the floor, its edges warped from the incredible heat that had sliced it open. She swallowed hard. By unspoken consent, they turned around with intent to run back toward the stairwell, but found that a black-armored pony stood between them and safety.

"Rust works pretty fast," rumbled from the voxunit in his helmet. "It gets into your mind, rots out everything good, and turns something useful into a ruin."

"H-hey, if you're a cop, I know my rights!" the stallion stuttered in response. "You can't come in here without a warrant, and you can't just knock down my door, and you can't just-"

"I am not," chuckled the black-armored pony, "the law. You call yourself a soldier, do you not?"

The earth pony's eyes widened, and his knees began to shake. "Yuh... how did you hear-"

"We're citizens of Equestria," the mare interjected, a bit quicker on the uptake than her friend. She took a half-step forward, putting herself between the stammering earth pony and the unicorn in black armor. "We have every right to say what we want in the privacy of our own domain."

"Yes, you do." The black-armored pony stepped closer. They were only a few meters apart now. "A citizen of Equestria has that right. However, a traitor to the Crown is still a traitor to the Crown, regardless of where he or she might stand."

"Hey dude, be cool," said the earth pony. A blush of shame colored his cheeks as he realized that the artist felt she had to protect him. She's always standing up for me, but not this time. I got this. He reached out and pulled her back with a hoof that quivered only a little. The grower forced himself to look into the intruder's black faceplate, then swallowed hard. "All right, all-right, you're not a cop. I never heard of this Crown gang, but I know what you guys all want, yeah? You want a fix?" he smiled wide, and held out the bag of leaves.

The other stallion leaned his head forward a centimeter. His black armor seemed to soak up the light in the hallway. Perhaps it was just the mare's imagination, but she could have sworn that the luminator panel overhead flickered slightly when he heaved a sigh. Her heart pounded in her barrel, and she wanted to grab her companion and rush through the hole in the door. This... thing was dangerous, she knew it just as she knew that blue was the complement of orange. Some of the other members of the Fellowship told stories of horrible monsters that craved the blood of mortal ponies, and one even claimed that she had seen monsters that even those monsters feared.

She was an artist, she had earned that title with paintbrush and pencil. Hundreds of finished pieces, thousands of practice sketches, and uncountable hours of work had made her what she was today. Many of those had been spent drawing the pony body, for as one teacher had told her, "once you can paint the essence of a mare on a piece of canvas, you will find that you can paint anything you set your mind to." She saw the way this unicorn in black armor stood. Strong, resolute, but weary. He hid it well, but she had drawn many who hid far worse secrets than fatigue. 

The grower was used to talking to his shrubberies, who usually told him what he wanted to hear. He smiled wide at the unicorn in black armor. "I got good stuff, right here. See?" The sack of herbs he had just cut dropped onto the ground with a thump, and the pony reached back into to his saddlebags. "I got another here. You can have it all, just take it easy-"

"Don't," growled the operative, but too late. The grower's fetlock had already wrapped around a cheap pistol in his saddlebag. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he drew it out, excited by the chance to prove himself to his girl, but the cultist never had a chance. A pony who had never fired a gun at anything other than glass bottles would never be quicker on the draw than a stallion trained at Pendulum Isle. The mare knew this in her heart, for the one in black carried himself like a warrior, while her companion was at his heart a coward. That did not matter to her on a personal level, he was still a trustworthy friend, but she knew before either pony had touched his weapon who would win.

She tried to scream, to move, to say something, but while her mind raced her body seemed frozen. All she could do was stare as her stallion was slowly raising his gun, only to find that the black monster's was already leveled at his head. Her mouth finally opened, and she began to shriek a warning that was far too late. There was no pity in the black monster's stance, only something she had seen far too many times in her life. Desperation.

The artist watched her companion's expression turn from a smirk of pride to slack-jawed terror. She saw the pony in black squeeze the trigger rune on his lasgun. Her eyes darted back to the earth pony, for they were the only part of her body that still seemed to obey her will. A small part of her knew he was dead, knew she was dead as well, and for her final thoughts she pondered what had been between them. It was almost poetic, in a sad way, that they would die together after sharing so much time with one another.

Neither had ever truly thought about death, but now it had come she found she could only think of him. Had it been love? Had all those little touches and sweet nothings been his way of saying what he could not find the courage to simply confess? It must have been, but she had been too blind with her paintings and her commissions to see. Now he was dead, he would never know how much she loved him, or at the very least how much she loved him in this adrenaline-filled moment that seemed to stretch on forever. She and he were just like Juliet and Romeo, two star-crossed lovers, beaten down by Them. They had each taken their last breaths, and now were no more alive than one of her sketches.

That was all the cultist saw before a merciful crack sparked from Ivory-one's lasgun, a horrible noise came from above, and all she knew faded into darkness.


* * *



"Eh... got any twos?" asked the pegasus.

"Go fish."

"Ah..." he frowned at his cards. "My luck, it is poor today, and I am that much poorer thanks to it." The stallion yawned, and threw a cursory glance at the doorway. "Isn't it about time for us to make the rounds?"

His partner snickered. "You're just looking for an excuse because you've lost everything except your armor." The guard tossed his cards into the pile and stacked the deck neatly. "But I'll let you off easy... if you set me up with that cute lil' groupie of yours."

The unlucky pegasus yawned, and flexed his wings. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, comrade." He resisted the urge to smirk. "I assure you, I am just as unlucky in love as I am in cards."

"Bullsnot," retorted his partner, but he decided to press the issue later. He would just wait until his friend wanted some of his losings back. The earth pony yawned as well. It had been a long night. Fortunately, guarding the ground floor was easy. Nopony would get through the barricades. The worst thing that could happen was that wuss of a cook getting beat up by somepony who wanted his cooking sherry. He slung his spear on his back and waited for his partner to hide the deck of cards, then they trotted out into the hallway.

"I know not why I still play cards with you."

The other guard smirked, "because you're hoping one day I'll have a run of bad luck, and you'll be able to get back all the money you've lost and then some?"

A goofy smile appeared on the pegasus' face, and he fluttered a few centimeters off the floor. "Oh. Yes, that is a good enough reason!"

"Moron," the other guard muttered under his breath. Something sparked overhead, and the stallion glanced upward. "Don't fly too high, the lighting panels are acting up again. You'll get a nasty jolt." Then again, would we even notice if he did?

They continued on for a moment, and stopped to look in on the kitchen. It was empty, so the chef had either gone off somewhere or gotten himself trapped beneath a big stew pot again. The guards made a cursory inspection, shrugged, and trotted away.

"You feel that?" asked the pegasus. His right eye twitched, and his wings were raised even though he was on the floor. "That charge in the air?"

"No," replied the other guard. "Did you take a puff of something? We're not supposed to while we're on shift, remember?" As if that ever stopped anypony.

"No, no, you know I do not..." He raised an ear. "Hmmm." They continued walking. "Just something in the air, like the charge between stormclouds. Have you never felt that?"

The earth pony pressed a hoof to his face. "No, flyboy, I can't imagine why I don't know what you're talking about." He glanced into a side room that was filled with old sofas scavenged from the hotel's common areas. That's weird, normally there's a pony or two passed out in there this time of day. The guard shrugged. Everyone was probably just sleeping in their own rooms for once.

"Probably because you're not a pegasus!" his partner suggested helpfully, and got a whack upside the head for his trouble. The enchanted leather armor took the sting out, but it still caused his eyes to roll about for a moment. That distracted him so well that he paid no mind to the curious lack of mares in the art room as they strolled past. If he had, he might have wondered why the door was closed and the lights off. Had he wondered about that, he might have pushed open the door and switched on the lights, to find several broken easels that seemed to have been destroyed in a fight of some kind, and a curious trail of red leaking from under one of the closet doors. However, he did not wonder, and so they continued on their patrol.

The silence was what finally got to the earth pony. Things were never this quiet. That's why they needed guards, to settle disputes and sort out drunkards. "Hey... there wasn't a party scheduled, was there?" He scratched his chin. "Kinda feels like we're the only ones on this level."

"Don't worry, you aren't."

The two guards looked at each other, neither recognizing the voice, then turned around. An instant before the lights cut out, they saw a mare in black armor standing next to the junction box they had just passed. When the luminator panels flickered back on, the hallway was completely empty. Only a feather remained.


* * *



Ivory-one breathed slowly, listening to the overlapping voices of his team through the voxnet. He had been trained to take that muddle of information and turn it into a relevant tactical synopsis. That required a tremendous amount of focus, so he had stepped into a side room of the hotel and locked the door. The picture his operatives painted was very bleak, for the enemy. That was all these cultists were now, the enemy. So spoke an officer of the Organization, and so it was.

The sergeant kept his back against the wall while he listened. His horn glowed softly, its glow hidden by a black shroud that jutted from his helmet, as he made minute adjustments to his voxlink. He spoke to each operative as an individual, requesting clarification, issuing orders, confirming kills. They were making good time. He switched to the command channel and requested an update from the gryphon, then adjusted his tactics accordingly.

Pendulum had given him this strength. Once upon a time, he had been a burned out magitek enchanter who had let the companies work him too hard on too many projects. The stallion had programmed, empowered, and cast all manner of spells, but the unchanging grind of the work took its toll on a unicorn's sanity. His burnout had come at the worst time, while he was working for a megakorp called Electromagic Arts. Rather than firing him, they had chained him to his desk with an IV drip full of stimulants. Then they had kicked him out the door when the project was complete, and burned the evidence. He had been too messed up to even think about legal action until any chance of it was ash.

The sergeant switched channels again and advised one of his operatives that four cultists were headed her way. This building's occupants were beginning to get restless, noticing that many of their number were suddenly missing. He smiled. His team was leaving just enough alone to foster the illusion of coincidence. On the lower floors, anyway. Heavens have mercy on anypony that Asset got her hooves on upstairs.

He had been homeless for a while. What hurt worse than the sting of losing his job had been the ringing void of losing his mind. The work he had loved for his entire life, that he had studied for in university and idolized as a child, had suddenly become alien to him. He became ill when trying to cast even the most basic of enchantment spells, and his mind suddenly reviled the higher calculations needed for technomagical constructs. When his money ran out, there was nowhere but the streets, since he would not lower himself to sponging off family or friends. The stallion had contemplated suicide, but did not have the courage to do it quickly. So, he had tried drinking himself to death.

That was how they had found him. Face down in a gutter. The two candymakers had not been able to look the other way, so he had found himself cleaned up, fed well for the first time in weeks, and put to work. They had given him a purpose again, wrapping freshly baked treats and working the register. The first week he had felt dull and lifeless, like one of the machines he used to animate, but those years of math meant he could make change without even thinking about it. The candymakers had kept him off the bottle, pushed him to be productive instead of just looking for an escape. He adjusted his communicator again and confirmed that one of his operatives had dispatched the two cultists in her sector.

It had been the smiles on the faces of the children that had brought him back to life. He had never been able to interact with anypony who actually used the things he made before. There had always been another project, another set of company directives, and another starched shirt to put on. So, he would reluctantly hand his documentation off to the legions of technical support staff and let them interact with the end users.

Working the register, seeing the children bite into those freshly-baked treats, had somehow melted that block in his mind. He felt as though life was once more worth the struggle, and slowly he had reclaimed his old skills. The unicorn could have gone back to work at his old job, and indeed was about to file a few applications... until that night when he had learned what Bon Hadescream employees did after hours. It had been an accident, but when the dust had settled he took the red pill and dropped his job applications in the trash. This was where he needed to be.

Pendulum had come later, once he had earned it. A year of intensive training had been the cost of his sergeant's stripes, and he wore them with pride. It took all kinds of warriors to protect Equestria, because there were all kinds of horrors that sought to destroy it. The sergeant toggled his communicator and drew his lasgun. There were three cultists wandering close to his position. He yawned, and considered taking a stimulant pill. A wry smile crossed the unicorn's muzzle as he noted the irony of the moment. He might be working like a slave, but this time it was his choice. He had put his life on the line when he signed up, and known exactly what he was getting into. The Organization had promised to work him to death when he left Pendulum, and he had agreed. All this was just overtime to him.


* * *



"Blue streak, speeds by... da-na-na na-na..." hummed the unicorn as he pushed a trolley onto the service elevator. They always made him use the service elevator, but that was fine. It was like the secret entrance in the comic books. Growing up, he never thought he would be able to join a mystical society that was trying to save the world, but here he was! Hot Trot the cook, helping to overthrow the Big Bads one meal at a time.

Actually, nopony had ever thought he would amount to anything, but he had certainly shown them. Working as a chef had been a good job, but he liked to experiment too much. Cooking for profit meant making the same thing again and again, day after day, because that was the way the customer liked it, and customers hated change. Happy just to have the job of his dreams, he had endured it... for a little while. Then, one night, he had tried putting a little more cilantro into the salsa than the recipe intended. It tasted fine to him, so he mixed in a few more spices and thickened the base to help the salsa sit on the chip instead of slithering off as soon as you got it to your mouth. Nervously, he had sent it out, and the dip was a smash hit. Nopony else knew why, but that was alright. Cooking was his cutie mark, not glory-hounding. Hound-glorying. No... hounding after glory!

Then he had tried mixing pecans into the pancake batter, followed by using fresh-mashed cranberries for the cranberry sauce instead of the gloppy concentrate. Little things. Oh, he had been quite the rebel. The unicorn ran a hoof through his dyed-blue mane, and pressed the button for the tenth floor. The elevator groaned, shivered, and then reluctantly began to rise. Hot Trot had asked his friend Grip to look at the old elevator, but the earth pony had assured him everything was fine. "You're the only one who ever uses it anyway. No big deal."

Well, if Grip Steel thought it was not a big deal, then surely it was nothing to worry about. He settled down on the floor and leaned against the trolley, careful not to upset its precious cargo, then pulled a comic book off its bottom shelf. It was a shame that those guards had shown up before the new girl got a chance to eat. That batch of spaghetti had not turned out quite the way he wanted, but everypony seemed to like it. They had even thrown a party after dinner last night to celebrate how much they liked his cooking... but forgot to invite him. That was fine too, he had needed to wash up all the pots and pans. Next time he would try using bow-tie pasta instead of string noodles. The new girl would like that, and she would need something to settle her nerves after being drug off by the guards. He knew from personal experience how nerveracking that could be, since the guards were always hauling him off too.

"Oh no! Bogus, dude!" he cried out in horror as he turned the page of his comic book. The dashing hedgehog hero had been poisoned, and had only hours to find an antidote! Oh, he should have known better than to eat those mysterious chilidogs, but everypony knew they were the hero's greatest weakness. Who could blame him, there were few things more delicious than a good crisp carrot on a bun with lentils and beans on top. He would always gather up the trimmings from vegetables and make sausages from them, since fresh carrots could be hard to come by in this city. That was how the street vendors sold them in Manehattan too, a hodgepodge of veg with ketchup and mustard. Mmmmm...

With a shrrreeeeeeeiiik, the elevator ground to a stop. He stood up and pressed the button again, urging the old machinery into action once more. The floor wobbled under his hooves, then resumed its crawl upward. Hot Trot sat back down and produced a candy bar from a pocket, unwrapped it with a glow of his horn, and took a small nibble. They let him have one candy bar a week, and this still had to last two more days. He held the chocolate on his tongue, letting it melt slowly, and turned the page of his comic book. "Phew... the antidote is in the evil doctor's secret lab!"

This was good news indeed, all the hero had to do was infiltrate the secret lab, drink the vial, and be good as new. While the hedgehog battled robots, the elevator continued its climb toward the top floor. Hot Trot reached out to steady the trolley as the floor began to wobble again. It would be horrible if all his hard work spilled, not to mention the flogging that would surely follow for wasting the Fellowship's resources. He adjusted his white chef's uniform, making sure it hid the marks visible through his light yellow fur.

The heroes never flogged each other in the comic books, but the Daughter told him that it was his own fault for not enjoying it. If he was truly in touch with his inner spark, the floggings would not hurt at all. So, he did what they told him, and said what they wanted to hear. "Thank you, sir, may I have another?" He turned the page, saw the hedgehog's faithful fox sidekick toss him a wrench, and smiled wide. His own fur was the same color as the sidekick's. The unicorn leaned to the side, and winced as a lance of pain shot up his back. The floggings still hurt, no matter how he tried to enjoy them.

Not as much as when he had been thrown out of The Machine, though. All it took was one little mistake. He had put cayenne pepper in the spicy mayo, and hurriedly made up fifty sandwiches with it to meet a rush order. Twelve ponies had to go to the hospital. Somehow, it had not been mere cayenne, but full-bore Zebra Ghost Peppers. They were far from the hottest peppers known to ponykind, but they had been more than enough to burn his career to the ground. Nopony believed he had not done it on purpose, since he was always tinkering... and once the customers had learned his name was Hot Trot, their minds were made up.

All of them had been refined businessponies, the elite of the elite, and at least twelve had made it their mission to make sure that he never saw the inside of a kitchen again. He had bid a heartbroken farewell to his dear friends and fellow chefs. They had all been so sad to see him go, he was sure those had been real tears in their eyes, but there was nothing to be done. The blame was all his, somehow he had managed to sneak a type of pepper they did not even stock in the kitchen into the mayo. Stranger things had happened. Maybe he had been sleepwalking.

Finding himself destitute, for he had never been very good with money, he tried to sneak aboard an empty traincar like in the comic books. He would start life anew, in a different city, and work his way up from the bottom! It was the perfect plan until he had been thrown out on his bottom by a vigilant railway attendant, who had run him off with a burst of profanity and hurled bricks. Hot Trot took another nibble of his candybar. He had no illusions that life had been exceptionally hard for him, everypony here had a story just like his.

The only difference the unicorn noticed was that he kept hoping one day, everything would go back to the way it used to be. Grip Steel and the others loved to party, and he would be a liar if he did not confess to partying right alongside them when he was could, but Grip had given up on ever becoming a factory worker again. He wanted payback for everything that had ever happened to him. All the unicorn wanted was to be a chef once more, and the Daughter had assured him he could be. In the New Order, there would be a place for chefs, who could cook whatever they liked without worrying about crazy accidents or being blacklisted by The Machine!

The elevator groaned as it crawled up the last few centimeters, then came to a stop. Hot Trot turned another page and smiled. "He got the cure! Most excellent!" So ended that adventure, with the wicked human shaking his robotic fist and yelling, "I hate that hedgehog!" Closing his comic book, he set it on the trolley and wrapped the doors in his magic's aura. They creeeeeaked aside, and he pushed the trolley out while humming happily. Today was gonna be a good day, he just knew it. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, somepony had even taken those rotting boards off that window to let the fresh air in.

He took a nibble of the chocolate bar held in his aura and turned around to make sure the elevator doors had closed all the way. The mechanisms up here could really do with a little love, but Grip Steel knew his trade far too well for the cook to complain. Satisfied that his secret entrance was secure, he turned back to the trolley and found the muzzle of a very well made gun less than three centimeters from the end of his nose.

It had a fine suppressor built right into the barrel, and the internals of the weapon had been reworked until the only sound one could hear when it fired subsonic rounds was a faint mechanical cycling. That meant the only warning your friends would receive would be a crumpled body and a bloodstain. It was far from the nicest thing a pony could wish to look upon in the instant before he died, however the pretty mare holding the gun certainly was easy on the eyes. Hot Trot had no time to react, no chance to cry for help, and despite his mind suddenly racing as fast as his hedgehog hero's legs, he was helpless to do anything but watch as her fetlock tightened on the trigger-rune. She was only following her orders, just like the operatives below, for the unicorn was guilty of being a party to the cult's activities.
> Bastile (Part VII): Kangourous
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia was not sure what made her hesitate. Perhaps it was the terror in his eyes, or simply how pitiable he looked. Did the blue dye in his hair remind her of Vinyl? Was she losing her edge, too worried about her own identity to do her duty? For a moment, these questions and more fluttered through her mind, and then all were washed away by some heavenly scent that tickled her nose. All memory of that icky incense was chased out as she took a calming breath. Her mouth began to water, but only a little and she quickly swallowed the extra saliva. A mare of refinement did not drool like a feral canine. She recognized the unicorn as that cook from earlier, and since his moment to scream had passed, she decided to be sociable. A calm smile, reassuring but still dominating. Control the moment. "Hello again."

His eyes remained upon the muzzle of the gun she held close enough to ram into his mouth if he opened it. His heart was pounding, and he felt as though he might black out. To his great good fortune, he had visited the restrooms just before taking the elevator. Hot Trot felt himself stepping back, dragging the trolley along with a fetlock that fear had frozen around the pull-bar, but the grey mare was still the same distance away. She marched him backwards like a manticore playing with its prey. To the terrified chef, the mare was a monster.

No, worse than a monster. She looked as normal as anypony else. You would never remember her if you saw her out of the corner of your eye, and yet you could never forget her if you witnessed her in a moment like this. When a portion of his senses returned, he was in a storage room, his back pressed against a wall. She was still tearing into his soul with those terrible eyes, seeing every wrong thing he had ever done, and whispering that there was no escape. How she managed to whisper with her eyes, he did not know. Perhaps it was merely his overactive imagination, but that thought gave him no comfort. He heard the whispers just as clearly as he heard his hedgehog hero's voice when he read the comics.

She lightly tapped his horn with the barrel of her gun, and his aura flickered off. The chocolate bar, still partly in its wrapper, dropped onto the hard concrete floor. He had carried it along just like the trolley, by accident rather than any rational thought. Then she stepped back, shut the door, and pulled the chain on the single lightbulb. Dull yellow brightened the room, and she slipped the gun into a holster on her uniform. After a moment, during which the earth pony seemed to be evaluating him rather like a potato she was considering for supper, he could stand the silence no longer. "You... you're a... robot. I was right."

To his surprise, the corner of her mouth twisted up in amusement. "A robot? What makes you say that?"

"Y-you didn't eat anything, and you're here to... to kill all of us." Hot Trot swallowed hard, his rump still pressed against the wall. "You're from The Machine." The uniform was a dead giveaway. He had never seen one like it before, but he was sure that all the bad guys wore uniforms just like hers.

The grey mare chuckled with a hoof over her mouth and a sly twinkle in her mulberry eyes. "And what is this... Machine? What do they do there?"

 "Y'know, evil stuff." He wracked his brain, which was filled with comic books and wild conspiracy theories. "It's all ruled over by this one Big Bad, who's horrible to work for but everypony does it anyway because they're promised good stuff, and if you don't do what the Big Bad says you get a whuppin'." The stallion rubbed his front hooves together, and felt a shiver run down his spine. "But the Big Bad is always most untriumphant, because the hero manages to outsmart 'em at the last minute and save the day." A faint glimmer of hope flickered over his face. "So... like, even if you totally ice me, I know my friends are gonna get you, because we're the good guys!"

Octavia leaned her head to the side. "No, no." She sighed. He is almost like talking to Vinyl... oh, how she would enjoy this... "You see, you are the one with the secret base and the plan to bring about the end of the world as we know it. I am the one sneaking into your base with the intent to stop you from activating the doomsday device." The cellist flicked her tail and smiled. "This makes me the good girl, and you a part of The Machine."

"Nuh-uh!" retorted the cook. "The Daughter doesn't wanna end the world, she just wants things to be awesome like they used to be a long time ago!" He reached up and adjusted his hat, then straightened his back. "Where everybody has plenty, and the dragons look after everyone with love and grace, an' cool stuff like that!"

"Oh?" the grey mare raised an eyebrow. Hmm... what to say next... She was no stranger to debating with warped minds. Trouncing Vinyl on the battlefield of words was her only means of keeping the vampire in check, and when fighting the Organization's enemies she sometimes found that a soft word was more useful than a soft-tip bullet. Besides, what was the advantage to merely killing the body? The Lady Bon Hadescream spoke often of the value of a mind turned from evil to good. If she could shatter this one's perceptions, perhaps save him from his own folly, it would let her sleep a little better at night. If not, she could always kill him.

"Yeah! And you'll never stop us, because we're right." He seemed firm in that conviction for a moment, then his face fell as doubt began to creep in. "But... you're just a bunch of wires and technomagic. You don't understand right or wrong." The stallion scratched his dyed-blue mane, then his curiosity finally got the better of him. "Are... do you have a bird inside you, or a rabbit?"

She glanced down, then picked up his candy bar. The stallion gasped as she took a bite of it. "I am flesh and blood, just like you." Her eyes chanced upon the wrapper as she chewed slowly. "And as for right or wrong, your leader wants to raise up a monster to carry out her vengeance against the world. You gladly go along with her."

"It's not just for her, it's for all of us!" He stood up proudly. "And I'm her chef, I cook her the best food, just the way she likes it."

It certainly smells far more edible than what he slopped in front of me earlier, thought Octavia. She knew that smell was what had truly saved his life, even if she did not want to admit it. Hunger was such a powerful persuader. It had whispered how something that smelled so good could not have been made by somepony who was all that bad, could it?

"I'm a member of the Fellowship, and we're going to stop you." He pointed at the grey mare. "Robot or not! We won't let The Machine get away with keeping ponies oppressed and dumb, or sacrificing them for some quick bits!" Hot Trot raised a front hoof, and said in as loud a voice as he thought he could use without her shooting him, "you can take our lives, but not our freedom!"

"No, you gave that up already." The sniper shook her head and put on a pitying expression. "You are doing whatever they tell you to, carrying out their orders in the hope that it is all for some greater good, and telling yourself that it is okay to summon a Carpathian Dragon to destroy a city because the ends justify the means."

"Wait, how do you know that?" he scratched his head. "Like, you're new and stuff. They didn't tell me what those bones were for until last week when I asked if I could put one in the soup." It was very unorthodox, but he had found a great book on traditional gryphon cooking. There were several chapters that were too scary to read, particularly the one he had not dared to even glance at titled To Serve Pony, but the idea of using a soup bone to add nutritional value seemed tame enough... and the bones had just been sitting around... he winced again. Asking had earned him a flogging, but also a ranted explanation.

The earth pony took a step toward him. "I know about the ancient creature you want to summon because your friend Grip Steel and your Great Leader wanted to sacrifice me to expedite its arrival. They left a hungry, frightened mare alone in a room with two guards, whose only orders were to use her as a reward for their diligence, before preparing her for sacrifice." She smiled. Hot Trot felt his heart stop and his blood begin to freeze, until the assassin broke whatever arcane spell she had cast by asking, "does that sound like the decision of somepony who embodies your values?"

"Y-you're lyin'." Hot Trot swallowed hard, and blinked back angry tears. They refused to cooperate. He grabbed a hunk of his white cooking coat and wiped his face, in the process exposing a rather nasty black and blue mark on his back.

Octavia pounced. Verbally, of course. "Did you fall down some stairs?"

"No," he said quickly, realizing his mistake and falling back on the stock phrase they had taught him. "I fell down some... stairs." The grey mare laughed, a soft sound like fine china clinking together. Hot Trot swallowed hard. "I mean... uh... I backed into a shelf, and a big pot fell off, and it hit me-"

She glared at him, and his tongue froze. Those eyes seemed to hurt worse than all the floggings in the world ever could.

"I... mess up. And I get punished." He bit his tongue, then tried to defend the way he had been treated. "That's the way things work! If we're gonna save the world, we have to... to maintain discipline."

The cellist continued to glare for a moment longer, then glanced away. "Yes, you are right." Count of four...

He sighed in relief, once more justified within his own mind, which was of course exactly what the sniper wanted.

"That is the way things must be. After all," she put on her most innocent smile. "If you do not do what the Big Bad says, you get a whipping."

"That's not... fair!" he protested quickly. "The Daughter is just-"

"Keeping you oppressed and dumb, while sacrificing others to speed her own goals?" She brushed a stray lock of her mane back into position. "I am not the robot in the room, you are. You sacrificed your mind, your free will, for their promises. You gave up your pursuit of happiness for safety, for comfort, and you have received neither." Octavia bit her lower lip. Good words... but not the right words. Those are the Lady Bon Hadescream's words. Not the words that will reach him.

A chilling thought danced through her mind. I... I have to speak in a language he can understand. She swallowed hard. What would Vinyl say? To her horror, the answer came quickly, as though the vampiric lunatic was in her head and more than willing to comment on the conversation.

"Some of those that preach kindness, are the same that burn cities." The cellist said, carefully redacting the DJ's more explicit language. She had personal scruples. "And you have been doing just what they told you, justifying it in the name of your chosen leader."

His eyes lit up as neurons sparked. "I... I've been... woah..." the stallion's jaw fell open. Hot Trot began to realize all the little things that kept adding up, and felt all the anger he had pressed down bubbling toward the surface. He had forced himself to shrug off everything they were doing to him because he was afraid to lose what little they offered. Afraid to be back out on the streets again with nowhere to go. The cook shut his eyes and whimpered softly. It really was like that old song, the tears you cry are justified, by bearing the mark of the chosen lights! "I've been cooking in the name of!" 

Octavia pressed a hoof to her face and groaned. "Yes... yes, that is what I was alluding to..." She took a breath and rolled her shoulders. "Furthermore," the mare waved a hoof toward the door to the rest of the hotel. "Welcome to The Machine. You have been in their pipeline, filling up bellies while They told you what to dream." She glared down at him, pistol still at the ready in its holster. "So, welcome, my little pony, to The Machine." The fact that she could speak this way told the cellist that she was letting Vinyl play her music far too often and too loudly. Still, it seemed to work.

"I... I just wanted..." he stopped, then wiped his eyes once more. "I just wanted everything to be cool again, y'know? The Daughter promised that this was the right thing to do, and it was all sly an' secret like one of the comics..." The unicorn sniffled. "Y-you're right. This... this place is..." his eyes widened in terror at a sudden realization, "this place is the Roboticizer!" He wanted to run out and punch The Daughter in her fat face... but who was he kidding. He would chicken out halfway there. "They were really gonna kill you?"

"Among other things, yes." The grey mare flicked a speck of dust off her uniform.

He hung his head. "I'm the robot." The unicorn sniffled softly. "I... I'm sorry."

"As heartwarming as that is to see, you are still a traitor to your country and a party to a conspiracy to summon a monstrosity." She stepped toward him. "For which there is a price to be paid." The grey mare let him sweat for a moment, then gestured toward the trolley. "By the way, what is that wonderful smell?"

"Grilled portobello mushrooms," the unicorn replied, his voice firming up as he spoke. If there was nothing he could say to save himself, maybe the last meal he had cooked would not go to waste. That was really all he had ever wanted to do. Make ponies happy with good food. "Stuffed with sauteed leeks and spinach."

She raised an eyebrow. "An interesting dish... what else did you put in it?"

"Nothin'." He leaned back against the wall. "The Daughter doesn't like anything special in hers, just simple food that tastes good. Nothin' wild, no little additions." Experimenting on her meals was grounds for a double flogging. "I just used the special one-up mushrooms, we grow them here. She likes those. Everypony does."

Octavia's stomach grumbled, and she sidestepped over to the dining cart. On it was a set of cutlery, along with a napkin and a large covered dish. She tied the square cloth around her neck, and lifted the metal dome of the first plate. That tantalizing smell intensified tenfold, and it was all she could do to resist plunging her face into its source. With a great exercise of willpower, the grey mare picked up a fork and knife, then neatly cut one of the stuffed mushrooms into quarters. She lifted a chunk to her mouth and greedily popped it in. "Mmmm..." her eyes lit up as it melted on her tongue. The cellist chewed thrice, then swallowed. "Positively delicious!"

He nodded slowly. "T-thanks..."

"Which makes me regret what I must now do all the more." Octavia flashed an apologetic smile at him. The cook slid toward a corner and covered his eyes. It seemed this was the end of his life's recipe book.

"P-please don't-"

"I am sorry, but my friends need me. I simply do not have time. This is the only option." She raised her left front leg, then whacked the plate, launching the mess of food on it into the air. The grey mare leaned back her head, opened wide, and caught every last morsel in her mouth. She chewed ferociously, with but a single tear running down her cheek at the indignity of it all. Such a meal was meant to be savored, not gobbled, and so it was with the heaviest of hearts that she cleared her mouth with a mighty swallow. Then she lifted the metal dome over the next dish, finding to her barely-contained delight more of the finely-prepared mushrooms.

The chef, his eyes still covered, bit his lip and waited for the end. He heard the sounds of her devouring what he had labored so hard to create, and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. At least she was eating his creation, and not throwing it out. While he was not entirely resigned to his fate, he knew that running for the door would only quicken it. She could probably drop him without even looking up from her meal.

Octavia bowed her head and, with cheeks as pink as her bow-tie, licked up the last crumbs of the meal. She would need every bit of strength for the mission ahead. When the deed was done, she sat back and loosened the napkin from around her neck, then daubed the corners of her mouth with it. "If it is any consolation, I have not had a meal so fine in well over a month." 

He dared to lower one fetlock and look at her. "R-really?" She was pretty and well-mannered, like a princess. Hearing a kind word about his cooking from somepony like that did not make up for his impending death, but it did make him feel a little better inside.

She nodded. The chefs at the Bon Hadescream Estate were excellent, most of all a certain Sergeant Allyson. "I have sampled both the highs and lows of fine cuisine. You have great talent."

Hot Trot felt a blush of pride cross his cheeks, along with a goofy grin. "Cooking's totally my cutie mark, but I still worked a ton to be good at it. I... uh, I'm glad you thought it was most excellent."

"I too worked very hard to become excellent with my cello," she empathized, then drew her autopistol. "But, then I died. That was a terrible waste, just as killing you would be."

"B-but you're still going to do it?" he asked nervously. "Like... because if you don't want to, I am totally cool with that."

The grey mare glanced down at her gun, pointed it at him, and reached out to the weapon through its will-rune. It was a Vladof, and it hungered for revolution. Not the petty lies of power mongers who usurped one another in the name of platitudes, nor the angst-ridden rebellion of those who felt slighted by the nature of the world. True revolution was the clamor of the many for the rights long denied to them by those who sharpened their swords and smiled through their teeth at their subjects. Thus its trigger felt a little stiffer than it should, as though reminding her that there were many more worthy targets for its wrath, and that her supply of bullets was limited. She agreed.

"Hrmm." Octavia holstered the sidearm and shivered happily, rejoicing in the warm feeling that was flowing out from her belly. She passed him his chocolate bar with a smile. "My orders are to kill anypony not bearing the Bon Hadscream logo."

Hot Trot looked down at his treat, still clad in its tin wrapper. On it was the crest of the Bon Hadescream Corporation. "W-wait... you work for a candy company?"

"Ah-ah." She sat down across from him and adjusted her bow-tie. "That is not how this works." The grey mare leaned forward and fixed him with a penetrating gaze. "I am going to ask you a bunch of questions, and I want to have them answered immediately."

The stallion nodded stiffly, then took a nibble of chocolate. "A-and... after?"

Octavia smiled. "If you do not already, it would be wise to start collecting those wrappers."






It had been a long shift, and the guard was tired. He had heard the rumor that two of his buddies had earned a little reward, and decided it was time to call in that favor they owed him. However, upon trotting up to The Daughter's throne room and pushing open the door, he found a very puzzling sight: his two friends, dead on the floor. It almost looked like they had killed each other, since both had spear wounds.

The stallion stepped inside, leaving the door open behind himself, and trotted to the closest body. Incense pushed out any other smell, a sticky-sweet scent that clogged the mind the more you inhaled. Blood had soaked into the plush carpet, and the pony's corpse was only slightly cool to the touch. A spear had been thrust into his head, and the guard wondered if they truly had turned on each other.

Perhaps they had been fighting over the prize, unwilling to share? No, that was unlike them. Here in the Fellowship, all were equal, but some were more equal than others. The Daughter spoke of the perfect system, where the workers and pleasure-seekers were bronze-caste, the warriors were silver, and those wise philosopher-queens like herself took their rightful place in the gold-caste. Equality, fraternity, and joy blessed those who embraced this way of life. He scratched his chin and moved to the other body. Yes, this one had a spear through his neck... it was entirely possible that he had killed his friend, then succumbed to his wounds. A sad thing, and their sacrifice had escaped too. Most unfortunate, but she would not get far.

Wait. He reached down and touched the face of the unicorn with the spear through his neck. The skull is broken. That would have killed him, or at least slowed him down. But the other guard would not have been able to deliver that fatal kick with a spear through his spine... so the only logical conclusion was that somepony else had done this. And the only other pony in the room would have been the mare that bronze-caste worker had brought in as a sacrifice.

The guard stroked his chin, made certain of his findings, and checked that his spear was holstered on his back for a quick draw. Perhaps she had caught these two unaware, but now he knew that the little lamb was a wolf, and would not be such easy prey. There was no escape for her, and a smile flickered across his face as he realized that he might receive his dead friends' reward if he pleased The Daughter by finding the sacrifice himself.

The stallion straightened up, and turned back toward the door with a grin. Bad luck for you, friends, but I suppose the Great Glow just did not keen your senses well enough. He was sure that his inner spark had revealed these truths to him so that he might inherit their prize since they had proven themselves unworthy.

Something stepped into the doorway before he could reach it. He opened his mouth to say hello, thinking it another guard, then reached for his spear as he saw the silhouette. It raised a front leg, leveled something at him, and ejected his clever deductions out the back of his head. Two small bullets, spat quicker than most guns could fire one, ripped through his skull and reduced him to just another corpse on the carpet. A splatter of blood landed across The Daughter's throne, and the grey shape pulled the door shut once more.

> Bastile (Part VIII): Volière
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Good job, lance corporal." The gryphon stifled another yawn as he nodded at the mare. She stuffed the last body into a broom closet, then cocked her head to the side.

"You sound almost bored, sir."

He chuckled. "You don't want to see me excited." The gryphon yawned again, then shook his head to clear it. "Okay. Plan. Stick to the plan." Rollins rolled his neck. Stay focused. You've been through tougher stretches than this. "Turns out I was right. All the generators are on the eighth floor."

The mare leaned around a corner and checked a corridor. "You find a map or something, sir?"

"Better." He looked down the other end of the hall, finding it pleasantly free of deranged maniacs who wanted to overthrow Celestia. The gryphon yawned again. And here I was hoping they would at least have an interesting cause... "The Asset snagged one of 'em and leaned on him for information. Turns out he wasn't a true believer, so he spilled like a jar of jellybeans."

The mare glanced back at him. "Wait... how'd she know he wasn't as nutty as the rest?"

Rollins shrugged. "Luck, I guess. They all look the same until you talk to 'em."

She leaned against the wall, then looked back at the broom closet. "So... I... I might have just..." It was not the killing. She had pulled the trigger before. Her first time had been hard, it always was, because she was not a psychopath. Killing her own kind was not natural, but it was necessary. There were those who would not listen to logic, or who refused to be persuaded by kind words, and... and... she protected the innocent from ponies like that. The pegasus twittered her wings nervously. "I mean, they were-"

"Guilty," the gryphon said firmly. "You're doing your duty, lance corporal."

She nodded slowly, and followed when he waved her down an empty corridor. "B-but... that's what those ARGUS troopers were thinking when they stormed us. That was their duty."

"Yeah, but we hadn't done anything wrong," the vox op assured her with the calm tones of someone who was used to managing the fears of others. "These nutters are trying to summon a monster."

"Sir... you kept a vampire in a coffin and pointed her at the biggest threats on your list." She swallowed, and leaned against a wall behind him when he signaled a halt. The gryphon peeked around another corner, then reached into a pouch and pulled out a piece of paper. Wind-two cleared her throat. "H-how is that different? Just because she works for us, it's okay?"

He nodded. "Pretty much." Wait for it... waaait for it...

"Buh... wha?" The mare raised a hoof to her helmet as her mind fought to comprehend. He was her superior officer, that meant he had the training and experience to be right about these kinds of calls. However, she had also been trained to question authority and make sure that her orders were proper before carrying them out. These two mindsets battled within her brain, producing a rather nasty headache.

The gryphon turned back to her and put his paper away. Confusion opened the mind to understand strange things more quickly, it was a psychological trick he had picked up from the instructors at Pendulum. "They, and their monster, want to overthrow Celestia. We, and our monster, want to keep Harmony as the dominant force in the world. ARGUS... hades, I don't even know what they want." He shrugged. "Well, aside from power. They say they want harmony, but I kinda think they mean the other thing. We're different. Operatives of the Bon Hadescream Organization fight with honor, right?"

She nodded, taking some solace from his words. "Yessir... but there doesn't seem to be a lot of honor in gunning down ponies who might be on our side."

"They're traitors, lance corporal. All of them. Doesn't matter if they didn't know it when they joined up, they're still traitors because they've all done their bit for this crazy scheme." He reached out and set a claw on her shoulder. "Hey, you don't see any of 'em in the dungeon, right?"

Her eyes widened. "There's a dungeon here?"

"Metaphorical. If this brew up a dragon scheme of theirs pans out," he tried to ignore the sudden chill that ran down his spine. Octavia had reported the chef's claim that this little cult had somehow gotten their hooves on dragon bones. That was a very bad thing, because they could be used to reconstitute said dragon with far less effort than a full summoning. "Don't you think they'll all be lining up for a reward, regardless of a few misgivings?"

The mare swallowed hard. "Y-yes, sir."

"So, we moan a little about the grim necessity of it all, and then we go kick tail. If somepony gives up, hooray for them! They're still a traitor, but maybe we can work something out." The gryphon stepped back and checked the corridor again. "But we don't go in trying to save 'em. Because all it takes is one cultist who doesn't want to be saved, and you're dead."

The mare nodded slowly. "I... understand, sir. I'm sorry, I've just never been in an operation quite like this before."

"Don't apologize. Let's move out." He led the way. This floor had few guards, but that was no great surprise. It had been gutted for the most part, the furniture from its rooms and common areas drug to other parts of the hotel and its inner walls knocked open to make storage areas. This was a maintenance sector, just like the lowest level was a communal area and the highest was a pleasure dome. After a few more moments of dashing from cover to cover, the mare heard two guards roaming behind them.

The two operatives looked around for cover, jumped over the remains of a wall, and slid behind an old sofa that had not been considered worth moving. Rollins kept his lasgun close and peeped out at the corridor.

"Sir," began the mare, worried that he might think she was becoming unstable. She was, just a little, but the fear of appearing weak helped her overcome it. "if we need to take them, I can-"

"We don't," he replied softly over the voxlink. "They need to report back that nothing suspicious is going on."

She blushed, happy that the helmet hid her red cheeks. "Right, right, I just-"

"It's natural." He glanced over at her and nodded. "It's the right thing to worry about, helps keep you sane." The gryphon sighed. "It's part of what makes you a pony. Just stick with me, we'll get out of this alive, and we'll do it the right way. Okay?"

"Yes, sir." The pegasus nodded.

"Good troop. I wouldn't have brought you inside with me if I didn't think you were strong enough for this. We all have doubts, and you're picking the right time to ask." He glanced out at the two guards again. Their helmet voxsets meant he could talk all he wanted to and they would never hear. The gryphon just hoped there were no spiders lurking behind the sofa with them. "Which is when we are not neck deep in a firefight."

Wind-two took a deep breath and reminded herself that the gryphon knew what he was doing. She had seen him air-tackle that pegasus with a gun like it was nothing. "You had questions too, didn't you sir?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... but not quite... not the way you're thinking." The guards decided to stop a few meters away and talk about a girl they both wanted, or some similarly idiotic topic. An awkward pause hung in the air between the two operatives. He could tell from the way she wiggled slightly away from him in the cramped space that images of a bloodthirsty gryphon ripping his foes apart before finally being tackled by black-armored squadmates were dancing through her mind. "No, they didn't have to teach me what a conscience was, lance corporal."

"Sorry," the mare said quietly over her commlink. "I... I can do my duty, I just... I don't know how I'd live with myself if I killed the wrong mare."

Rollins rubbed his forehead. "And you're worried that you might without even realizing it. I know." He sighed. "Look... have you ever heard of the Ash War?" The two guards were still chuckling about something. Rollins suppressed the desire to resolve the problem with a few lasbolts. They had killed too many already, these guards needed to report that there was nothing suspicious on this floor. Who trained these idiots, anyway? Oh. Right, cultists. Training to them means beating up each other to decide who gets first puff on the happy-root.

"No, sir, I can't say as I have." The mare pondered for a moment. "Was the Organization involved?"

"Heh, I don't think so. This happened a long, long time ago. Celestia was on the throne, Equestria was in a minor economic slump, but life was still pretty good in the world... except there was a tide of unrest among the gryphons. They wanted war. Oh, not all of them, but enough to rally the different broods and forge a unified government by brute force." He paused for a moment. Not too different from what Celestia did, if those old records about the Sisters Astral are accurate... but she stopped after reclamation. "War is in a gryphon's blood. We were supposed to be the ultimate warrior race, half-lion, half-eagle, all predator. I can survive on just about any kind of food, and shrug off hits that would put a pony into shock. Whoopee."

The mare looked around for another way out, in case the guards ambled this way. There was a hole in the ceiling above, but what they needed was on this floor. She made a mental note. It would be preferable to being discovered.

"So, they attacked. The usual plan, invade Equestria, dethrone Celestia, rule and snigger at all the ponies who are now your slaves." He yawned again. "Did fine on the first two parts. The gryphons bombed Canterlot, did a real number on it, and took the lead in the land war with a devastating push... that's where things soured. Ponies love peace."

"Not all ponies, obviously," the mare muttered with a wave toward the guards.

"Enough do. Gryphons have a lot of pride, it's how the agitators were able to hammer enough of a coalition together to stomp out the naysayers and build their war machine. A few little bands of heroes sprung up in the occupied territory. Began cutting supply lines, disrupting maneuvers, and eliminating officers." He sighed and shut his eyes. "Then the real Equestrian military might showed up and kicked the invading army in the beak. Celestia had known. She saw it all coming years before the first shots were fired, and so she had traded space for time. Made us overextend, played on the pride, and then rolled out her reserves. After all the smoke settled, she let the little heroes take the credit."

The mare scratched her head. "Wait, I remember what you're talking about... but... but that was never a big war, was it? I mean-"

"It was big enough to blow holes in Canterlot and a lot of other cities," he answered in a weary voice. "But it wouldn't do to have everypony remembering all that nastiness whenever they looked at a gryphon. As you can tell, Celestia didn't wipe us out. She didn't raze our towns, decimate our population, or tear down our monuments. Some ponies wanted to, there was a lot of hate back then. She did something worse." He took a breath as the two guards finally moved away. Rollins slinked out from behind the sofa and waved for the pegasus to follow.

The mare, her inner qualms mostly answered and largely forgotten due to his story, kept quiet until they neared a room that seemed to shudder with clanks and hisses. "Sir? What did Celestia do?"

He looked back at her, his helmet obscuring his eyes. "She took our pride. Instead of killing us or grinding us into the dirt, she offered aid. Food to get through the winter, for those willing to ask for it. Funding to rebuild, trade agreements, honest work that paid well." Rollins leaned against the wall. "You take a gryphon who's been told his whole life by the conglomerate in power that he's an unstoppable warrior, give him a crippling defeat, then force him to choose between his grumbling stomach and the lie in his head. That's why it's called the Ash War by gryphons. It's an old tradition to put the ashes from the firepit on your head when you're mourning... and we did a lot of mourning."

Wind-two checked behind them. "But... Oh. They mourned, but they were alive to mourn. That's the point, right? Her Majesty let the gryphons live. She didn't wipe them out, she just broke them to end the war."

"That's her way. And she did it with little heroes raised up from the darnedest of places." His voice dulled to a flat growl, "and we're no use to her dead."

The mare blushed. "I'm... sorry to bring it up, sir."

"Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly. "Yessir. Mercy is for after victory." The operative followed him to the doorway of the clanking room. "That's why you ordered the Asset to go after that mare in charge, isn't it?"

"Yeah. We stop her, maybe we can avoid some bloodshed." He shrugged. "Maybe we can exploit some of these cultists to help us achieve the next goal." Getting out of this town alive.

A smile crossed the mare's muzzle. "It worked well enough for Celestia."

"Uh-huh. But I don't raise the sun, so we stick with plan A." Rollins checked his paper again, wanting to make sure that the collection of noises on the other side of the wall was indeed the generator room. "You solid, lance corporal?" 

"Yes, sir." She nodded, and checked her lasgun. Poor guy. That was how he learned life was precious, by hearing about his ancestors being spared. The mare took a deep breath and reminded herself that she needed to shoot to kill. A second's hesitation could be the end of her, and that would not save any lives at all. "And you, sir? You're still staring at that page."

Rollins was indeed, for his sleep-deprived mind was making it hard to read the scrawl. Instead, he kept seeing the photographs from the history book. An earth pony photographer had journeyed through the gryphon crags just after the Ash War, with a few native born assistants. She had a remarkable talent for photographing the true nature of anyone in front of her lens. Her camera had snapped the tears of widows whose nest-mates would never return, orphans that had ganged together for safety, and the ruins of cities. The photo that stuck in his mind like bubblegum was different, though.

It was of three young gryphons, wearing the ragged remains of their uniforms. They had been promised glory and power, but received only humiliation. In their eyes was confusion. They had fought hard and well, they had followed their orders, why had they lost? Why was this mare who could not even fly here? Of course she could take their picture, they did not fear her. Not in the least. They were noble warriors.

Noble warriors who bet against the wrong horse.


* * *



Many of the operatives who worked with Octavia thought she was a cold, heartless mare. They did not hold it against her, but they thought it was true. She knew this was because she could kill in cold blood as easily as one of them might pour chocolate into a mold. They were warriors, soldiers of an organization whispered to be older than even Celestia. In life they protected the weak and avenged the lost, in death they... well, she was not privy to many secrets, but she had picked up enough to know that duty did not end just because your body was broken. Operatives were taken from the greatest, the least, the mighty, the hungry, anypony whose eyes were open and whose will was strong enough to stand against the crawling horrors.

However, that perception of her was incorrect. She felt every kill more keenly than they ever could, for she sought to understand her targets. Anypony could defend themselves or others, but few could watch a target, find its weakness, and then act without hesitation.

So, as Octavia stuffed yet another guard's body into a laundry bag and rolled it behind a couch, she understood that a life was gone from this world, never again to return. She was responsible for that. His blood was on her hooves, and it had not been a fair fight. He had not seen her, and was given no chance to surrender. Perhaps he had heard her coming, but that had not been warning enough for him to turn his head.

Octavia did not think of herself as a hero, sneaking and fighting her way past legions of evil minions to confront the wicked Daughter Scoffing Song. Nor did she justify her actions as the unfortunate means to some greater good that was worth any price to achieve. She was an Asset, he was the enemy, and his blood was on her soul.

The grey mare had a unique perspective on the killing of the Organization's enemies. But for a train crash, she could have been that guard. She could have been just another nameless foe working against Harmony, or even worse, an archenemy of the Organization who targeted their officers. The more she learned about the Bon Hadescream Corporation's activities, the more she was certain that her father had been raising her for some nefarious purpose that The Lady would have frowned upon.

Would I, contemplated the mare as she shot three cultists dead, then dumped them into a bathroom stall and drug a stray tapestry over the bloodstain, have wanted somepony to kill me? Would I have understood that I was evil, and deserved death? She always found it troubling, for she had indeed done wretched things at her father's behest in her younger years. There was blood on her hooves she could never wash away. Perhaps that was another reason operatives were wary of her. The Lady understood, and so did her friend the harpist. But I am certain that the Lady Bon Hadescream would have killed me in an instant if we had met as enemies.

Such thoughts flowed through her consciousness, but they did not distract her. Her belly was filled with good food and her mind was filled with purpose. This was what she needed to do. These cultists wanted to kill innocents, usurp duly elected representatives, and if they really had their way they would try to throw Celestia out of Canterlot. That was nothing particularly special, Equestria always seemed to be under attack from some rival faction or another determined to rule the world, reduce them all to slaves, or just cause mayhem and carnage for amusement.

The tipping point was these cultists' employment of monsters to achieve those goals. That made them the Organization's problem. Rollins had told her to kill their leader, and she knew he would not have made that decision if he did not have the evidence to do so. She had helped provide that evidence, and was a witness to its validity. This was right, and she rejoiced in that assurance as she knocked a pair of cultists down an abandoned elevator shaft, then lept inside, grabbed the dangling cord, and shot the two other guards who had been chasing her with spears as they ran up to the elevator doors. Her preferred method was with a rifle from a good distance, but her father had trained her in smaller weapons as well. Further education had come from the Organization.

The Lady Bon Hadescream had taken to deploying her and her vampiric friend as a two-mare special operations unit, with a communications expert to keep an eye on them. Despite his fervent pleas for any other available posting, Rollins was more often than not that expert. As the Lady had elegantly put it, "you have no room in your heart for monsters, lieutenant. That is how I know you will not permit them to act as such."

Octavia opened a small door marked staff only, shot five cultists dead before they could stand, then reloaded as she stepped over their bodies. The grey mare made her way through the narrow passage, her mulberry eyes searching the gloom for threats. The gryphon had softened up after a few assignments, though he claimed his interest in their well being was strictly because he did not wish to disappoint the Lady Bon Hadescream. The sniper knew he would always be there when she needed him... unless he had been shot through the heart, like that time in Baltimare.

Enough. She had a mission. Octavia shot a guard who was reaching for some kind of alarm crystal, then turned about in time to drop the one who had crept up on her. She was not sniping influential leaders or rival businessponies. Mercy had been shown to her, and she had passed that gift on to another this day. That was enough for the grey mare. What many ponies did not understand was that she did not have a cold center, just a calm one. Vinyl envied that calm center so very much. The DJ had always looked to Octavia as her reliable friend, the one pony who could put up with her antics. That calm center had seen the grey mare through sin, sickness, poverty, and death. Now it was buoying her as she carried out her purpose in this wicked place.

Octavia slid through the shadows, the urban camouflage of her uniform blending with her black mane to make her almost a part of the darkness. Rollins' words lingered in her mind. "Bones... uh-oh. Yeah, they could pull off a summoning with those." He had been skeptical about the trustworthiness of the information, but conceded that cooking and cleaning staff were often the best spies. "Short of corrupting a comms officer, at least." The cook had no idea where the bones were stored now, so the best course of action was still to remove the head of the problem. Rollins had mentioned something about a backup plan, but quickly added that he had full confidence in her.

Moving quietly took precious time, but cleaning up when there was no other option took even more. At last, the mare had reached her primary objective. The Daughter's quarters were right where Hot Trot had said they would be. Two bored guards stood at the front, grumbling about something or other. Both had lanterns in their mouths, lighting themselves up and ruining their chances of spotting her in the shadows at the other end of the hall. Octavia smiled as she took aim. Ivory team was already up to the fourth floor, otherwise Rollins would have directed them to just drop a satchel charge in the middle of the ritual circle and forget about stealth.

He and a pegasus would cut the power to the entire building and show these cultists why the things beyond the firelight feared Operatives. The others were performing their parts well, now it was time to finish hers. The cellist would find the leader of these cultists, and eliminate her. She glanced over her shoulder, made certain that she knew the way to the large glass pane that looked down over the central area, and took a deep breath...

As Octavia took aim, she could have sworn that the little hammer and sickle etched into the autopistol was smiling at her. This was the work of a true revolutionary!


> Bastile (Part IX): Le coucou au fond des bois
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia frowned. It was not the casual bend she used when Vinyl was up to mischief, but the stern expression of annoyance she had learned from her father. He had been able to say more with a frown than most could with words, but that had never held him back from berating her. She rarely had reason to use that frown, or the glare of furious contempt that seemed wed to it, but now was one of those times. Octavia was angry with herself, angry that she had fallen short of the mark.

The prey had slipped the trap. Oh, the cook had told the truth, the cultists' leader had been in her quarters, but she had left just before Octavia arrived. One guard, half drunk and sore, was inside, tidying up after the celebration. He had not been willing to tell where The Daughter had gone, so the cellist had smiled innocently and offered to give him a bath. That was how her father had taught her not to fail. Whenever she fell short of the mark, he would give her a bath. There were so many ways water could make one wish for death without leaving a mark, and her father could not leave a mark on her. Marks begat questions, marks made you stand out in a crowd, marks made her even more of an embarrassment to him than she already was.

It had only taken a few moments to break him. That was why she was so angry with herself. If she had been so brutal with the cook, used raw force rather than civil words, she would have gotten there in time. The Daughter would be dead, and her mission would be complete. The assassin ran quickly through the halls, scything down resistance with a minimum of ammunition. She made no effort to hide her hoofwork, for the guard had screamed out that The Daughter had gone to start the ritual early. If she did not already know that her enclave was under attack, she would realize it as soon as she reached her throne room.

Octavia shoved open a set of double doors, raised her pistol, and shot dead two cultists who had been perched on a couch before they could scream. She reloaded, took a deep breath, and forced herself to toggle the commbead in her ear. This had been covered in the plan. She just had to find The Daughter and improvise. She had only failed one part of the performance, there was still a chance to recover, to redeem herself in the audience's ears.

Her father had taught her to despise failure, to return successful or else. Breaking that habit had been very hard for the Asset, but it was vital to maintain communication with her team. She was not a lone assassin gunning for an unsuspecting target, but a soldier fighting alongside worthy comrades. And yet... she could not quite bring herself to switch to the Lieutenant's frequency. Perhaps if she moved quickly enough, she could still grab The Daughter while she was on the tenth floor, and none would be the wiser. If a musician made a slip, and none of the audience noticed, had it truly happened?

Where had she failed? Was it wrong to show mercy to that unicorn? Should she have discarded stealth in favor of slaughter on her way to The Daughter's quarters? Octavia bit her lip and slowed her breathing. A cultist was wandering through the hall on the other side of this door. He was not a guard, judging by the smattering of paint and clay over his apron, he was an artist of some kind. The assassin studied him through the small sliver of visibility between the barely-opened door and the frame. Should she kill him, or just wait a few seconds for him to pass? Which would be the "right" choice?

The grey mare took a deep breath and forced herself to let go of a little more anger. Yes, she had failed. But she was not under her father's rule any longer. Neither the Lady Bon Hadescream nor Rollins were of a mind to torment her for a slip like this. And yet she could not shake that memory of what always followed the words: Father, I have failed thee.

Worse, she did not have time for this. Vinyl needed her. Octavia would have whimpered softly, but was too disciplined to make a sound like that while somepony else might hear. The artist walked past, blissfully ignorant of how thin a thread his life had dangled by. She reached up and pressed her communicator. This was the "right" thing to do.

"Wind-one, this is Strings. Come in."

It took a moment for the gryphon to respond. When he did, his voice was strained. "Wind-one copies, go ahead, Strings."

"Primary target is not in her quarters," she nosed open the door, looked both ways, then sprinted down the hall. "One of her guards was left behind. He divulged under duress that she has gone to start the ritual."

Another pause from the gryphon, this time with a pained grunt partway through. When he spoke again, it was with a dark chuckle. "Well, that'll save us the trouble of searching for the dragon bones."

A smile slowly twitched across the grey mare's face. "I am in pursuit. I hope to catch her before she leaves the tenth floor." Another grunt came across the commlink, which prompted her to ask, "what is your status?"

"Having a firefight in the main generator room, two floors below you," Wind-one replied. His voxpack processed out most of the background din, but the generators were humming loud. The only reason he could communicate with the Asset was because of his helmet vox. Anything less than a belly yell would be swallowed up by the grind of the generators as they produced enough electricity to power the hotel. Rollins had to admit it was kinda genius, by keeping the enclave off the city power grid, they could almost completely avoid ARGUS' suspicion. Fortunately, the Bon Hadescream Organization employed much more aggressive information gathering techniques.

"Ivory team's going to have to go loud soon," he continued. "And as soon as they do we're gonna hit the power to the whole building." He was still thinking about how to shut down the electrical generators, not to mention the mana conduits running from the roof's solar panels, without destroying them. A lasbolt flickered in the corner of his eye, and he turned in time to see Wind-two finish off a cultist that had tried to outflank them. One problem at a time, that's how The Lady would do it. Secure, then shut down. "Do not divert. We'll be fine." He flapped his wings and took advantage of the high ceiling to pop over a hunk of metal, which was a fatal surprise to the cultist on the other side. "You need my authorization for something?"

Octavia took a deep breath. "Negative." She did not. He trusted her. The Asset trotted down a service hallway and felt her worries melt away. Vinyl was counting on her too, and she would not let them down. As the anger faded, she felt a spark of insight flicker. Her mind had been so filled with fear and doubt that she had forgotten a key piece of information. "I estimate she is trying to reach the elevator. My source mentioned she only used the big fancy one." She slipped back out into the main halls.

"Makes sense," Rollins hissed. Another cult-head had put a slug in him earlier, and he had just aggravated the wound by accident. His armor had already sealed, and his endorphins dulled the pain quickly enough. "I think we're almost secure here." Only two left in the generator room, if his count was right. He tried not to think about what might happen if he was badly wrong. "Carry on, Strings. Over." The gryphon saw his compatriot land next to him, still favoring her burn.


* * *



"Understood. Strings out," crackled through his commlink. Rollins took a deep breath.

"Two left, right sir?" the mare next to him asked, her lasgun at the ready.

The gryphon nodded. "Yeah. How're you holding up?" They advanced slowly.

"No worse than when we started," she answered. "Are you alright, sir? I thought that one got you back there."

They turned a corner, weapons ready. The grind of the generators hopefully would ensure the two ponies in this part of the room would have no idea there was a war raging. He nodded. "My armor's a little tougher than yours. Privilege of rank." Rollins winced as a sliver of pain cut through his warm blanket of endorphins. "Well... not really tougher. It just sorta patches me up when I need it, and itself when it needs it." Blood loss detected, scrolled across his visor. Automatic medical system engaged. "Took long enough," the gryphon grumbled.

"Sir?"

"I asked how your head is, lance corporal." He leaned out from behind a generator, lasgun up.

"Not the best question for the middle of a combat zone, sir." She sounded a little too flippant, even to herself.

He smiled. "That's exactly why I'm asking, lance corporal. You're twitchy. You're good, make no mistake, but you're twitchy all of a sudden." That usually meant she was thinking too hard, pushing herself instead of relying on her training.

"I... you don't ever get used to the killing, do you? I mean, I've fought cultists before..." They leaned around a boiler that hissed with steam. Rollins wondered how the cult-heads had hauled all this machinery up here, the hotel's power station was supposed to be in the basement. The mare checked the rear, then cleared her throat. "But those were regular operations. Stand up fights. This... I mean, it doesn't seem right, but I'll do it. Them or us, right now."

"I hear it never gets easier for ponies." He spotted a pegasus pony standing at a bank of dials, a pair of headphones over his ears. The engineer, or whatever title the enclave had assigned to him, was apparently oblivious to the fact that many of his co-workers had just died in the same room. Just as planned.

"What about you, sir? Did it get easier for you?"

Dumb, Rollins. Shouldn't have said it that way. He clucked his tongue and waved for her to follow him atop a slab of metal, then pointed to the other side of the room. They needed to find the other worker and take him out at the same time, if possible. "I'm a gryphon. We're wired differently."

"Not that differently," the lance corporal retorted. "I'm a pegasus, remember? Descendent of a mighty tribe of warriors?" She moved with great care over a boiler. Fast was slow, and slow was fast. That was what she had learned in Branch Crosstraining. Talking helped, since that nervous twitch was urging for speed. "Battle is in my blood."

Rollins kept his eyes peeled and wished that the improvised heartbeat sensor he had rigged up in a nearby room was more portable. As things stood, he knew how many cultists were in the room, but not exactly where. And while you're wasting time, Octavia is up there all alone chasing that wannabe queen. Maybe that nice cook she found was just playing her, and he has some way of ratting her out. He wasn't part of the plan. For all you know, she's... Maybe talking would help him too. "Gryphons were supposed to be the ultimate warrior race." History. He liked history. History didn't much like his kind, but then again nopony really did. "We can fly, soak up a lot of damage, and still be sneaky as a cat when we need to. Speaking of which, lift your heels, don't rely on your wings."

"Yessir," the lance corporal grumbled back, and stopped using her wings to hover over the old board that stretched between a boiler and a sparkling capacitor. It bent a little, but did not break, and after a moment she had to admit that it was easier to keep a low profile this way. "Did they teach you that at fancy-school?"

"No. I just read the Dari... uh... frack," he sighed. "Those are classified." The Organization distributed some dramatized reports from one of their civilian artifact recovery contractors as light reading to those who were cleared to know. There was talk of a book series for the general public, but he doubted it would ever see the light of day.

"Awww, I... eyes-on." Her voice snapped from disappointed to dedicated with commendable speed. "One. Unicorn. At my nine o'clock, working on the panel connecting to that... uh... big glowing thing."

The vox op rolled his eyes. "That's a Sol-Mana Capacitor. Understood. Can you take him?"

She paused. "Yeah. It's a bit of a jump, but-"

"Shoot him."

"Sir-"

The gryphon sighed. "Shoot him, lance corporal. Listen, I know you want to protect lives. I know there's a little part inside of you that keeps asking if you could help, just save that one, just try to reason with them. Hearing that the Asset turned a cult-head only fed that little spark. But that's not what's going to happen if you try and be nice here. He will see you, and shoot you first, if you give him the chance." He made sure his own lasgun was on target. "Understand?"

"Sir... it's not a him." The mare said quietly.

Rollins felt a tickle in the back of his mind, as though he should have picked up on something in her voice. You goofed the plan, dunce. But it was too ethereal to grasp. "Lance corporal, what's wrong?"

"It's a she, sir. And... I think she's pregnant."

The gryphon toggled his voxlink and hissed out some very choice language. Meanwhile, that small corner of his mind taunted him. What, a hotel full of pleasure cultists and you didn't think far enough ahead to figure that somepony would be with child? Nice going, genius. No wonder The Lady has you keeping tabs on that vampire, she's hoping it'll get hungry and save the Organization the trouble.

He glanced from his own target to where Wind-two's black armor blended in with the shadows, measuring the distance.

Oh, what now, you're going to tell her to back off and let you take the shot with your little toy gun? Maybe not tell her the part about how a neural stunner has a chance of frying a fetus' brain? The unborn were so very delicate. "Does she have a weapon?"

"I can make the jump," replied the pegasus.

"Wind-two-"

"Sir," she responded. That nervous twitch had gone, replaced by a firm tone. "It's... it's not them or me anymore. I can't just shoot her."

Rollins wished desperately for a miracle. Since none appeared, to his distinct lack of surprise, he settled for leaning out of his perch and looking at the pegasus cultist again. The engineer still had his headphones on, and seemed as oblivious as ever. Rollins squinted, and then cursed again. Pinned up next to one of the gages was a photograph of that pegasus and an attractive young unicorn mare. The vox op had a nasty suspicion that the mare in the picture was the only other cultist left alive in the room. Furthermore, after a closer inspection of the readouts he knew it would take far too long for him to figure out how to power down the generators on his own.

"No... you can't. Because that would make a horrible first impression." He sighed, and slumped his helmeted head against a front claw. This was one of those days. "Can you take her alive, lance corporal?"

"Yessir!" she said with the kind of confidence that only comes from those who see no other option but success.

You're going to get her killed, you know. It'll be all your fault.

The gryphon shoved his doubts away. It always is.


* * *



Octavia ran, her cello case secure on her back. She would not fail, not this time. She knew where the target was going, how she would get there, and that the cult leader would also have the secondary objective with her. Knowledge was power. Between the guard and Hot Trot, the assassin had all the pieces to this puzzle. A small part of her heart, free now that the anger had passed, regretted what she had done to that guard.

 Really, she had not used anything too horrible on him. True agony required proper facilities, but she had managed to improvise enough discomfort to loosen his bolts. Then she started to tune his mind with little tidbits she had learned from the cook until he sung. It had been boring in a way. She would have preferred to simply play him a song on her cello that would have opened his mind and won his heart, but there had been no time for a true performance.

The stealth part of the mission was over, for her at least. The grey mare's only concern was finding the Daughter and giving her the "express route down", as Rollins had put it. Ivory team reported that they were now facing organized groups who had suspicions about why so many of their fellows had gone missing. The cultists had begun to congregate together, falling back on the herd instinct common to all ponies. Fortunately, the different search teams were uncoordinated, and seemed to be attacking each other on accident. Ivory team reported one casualty, walking wounded, but it was only a matter of time before the ill wind of chance cut against them.

She vaulted a piece of junk somepony had left on the floor, and slid to a stop next to the throne room doors. They were wide open. Octavia spared a brief glance inside to confirm that the Daughter was not there, then took off running again.

This was the moment when others would question their orders, or wonder why they ever thought taking on an entire cultist compound with a few ragged survivors was possible. She felt her body ache from bruises that had not quite healed, and her thoughts begin to grow murky. Panic urged her to run, to forget about the mission.

Octavia slowed to a stop next to a chipped sign reading "Elevators: Next Left". The cellist breathed deeply, in and then out. She let the energy from that excellent food flow through her body, and smiled impishly when she realized that The Daughter would surely miss such a fine last meal. Perhaps the chef's failure to deliver it had spurred her out of her suite and into action? It mattered not. I have my orders. I need to pacify these cultists, so that I can find a way to revive Vinyl. The grey mare took another deep breath, and felt her resolve grow strong once more. Her body might be weary, but her mind was her fortress. She would not let her domitor down.

Voices echoed down the hallway, and she crept along the wall toward them. Drawing her pistol, she leaned around a corner to see a throng of guards and other ponies of status in the cult, all moving toward the elevator. In the center of them was a glimpse of silk, but Octavia did not have a clear shot. The gun in her hoof seemed to tremble ever so slightly, as though begging to be fed a full magazine and allowed to bury them under an avalanche of lead, but she clasped it tight against her front. Ammo was too precious, and she could not say for sure that such an assault would be effective. Vinyl's shotgun could reduce them all to ribbons of flesh and chips of bone within a few seconds, if the vampire limited herself to mundane ammunition. The assassin's pistol was a precise violin, not a powerful double bass.

She needed elevation, or a grenade, neither of which could be had. Once she killed the leader, the rest would panic and become easy prey. The grey mare glanced around the corner again, and saw that the problem had resolved itself. Although her followers had shielded her in the corridor, The Daughter had demanded to stand at the front of the elevator so as not to feel crowded. She wore a frown of annoyance, which the grey mare presumed she had adopted upon finding her well-laid plan ruined. On her left and right were guards bearing the bones of the ancient creature they sought to summon. One white-phosphorus grenade would settle all of her problems... if only she had some.

The sniper shrugged off her cello case and stepped around the corner, dropping prone to ensure that she could place as accurate of a shot as possible down the long hallway. In one smooth motion she was flat against the floor, her gun steady in both front hooves and the target in her sights. Few things would be more terrifying than riding in an elevator with the corpse of your glorious leader all the way down to the ground floor.

Just as she dropped to her belly, the elevator's metal door had begun to slide closed. Her sights were aligned right on the unicorn's chin, and she felt the weapon-spirit sing in harmony with her own as she squeezed its will-rune... but the gun did not fire. She did not hear it cycling, or see the target fall in a mist of red. Instead, a greenish purple glow seemed to flow from the unicorn's eyes. It wrapped out to the sides of Octavia's perception, blotting out the corridor, the elevator, the gun, and even The Daughter herself. All that was left was those eyes, pulsing with hatred.

Did you think you were the first who has tried to kill me, my little pony? A schoolfilly's laughter filled her senses, seeming to push through the boundary of hearing and become both taste and smell as well. I knew you the moment I saw you, no, I have known you since before you were even born! I am Scoffing Song, Daughter of the Great Glow, and you are a mudpony. All you ever were, I gave to you, and now... The eyes deformed, melting into a churning vortex of energy that spoke though it had no mouth, "and now, I am taking it all away."

It raised two glowing wisps of light, each one ending in five small trails, and clapped them together. "This is my power, the birthright given to me when my inner spark was awoken. I am not a mere mare, I am a deity of old wrapped in mortal flesh!" She waved one of the strange appendages, and Octavia no longer felt the floor. Vertigo overwhelmed her as she felt herself falling, but never seeming to go anywhere. The sniper flailed her legs and thrashed from side to side, trying to find an anchor of some kind in the abyss, but wherever she looked the vortex was there. It opened what might have been a mouth, but the orifice was impossibly wide and filled with something that oozed and wriggled as no tongue ever should. Then it howled, "look upon me, you worm of the earth, and despair!"

Octavia did indeed despair. She had either missed, or not gotten the shot off in time. Either meant failure. That was the last coherent thought she had before the vortex reached out and slapped her across the face with a five-tailed tendril of energy.
> Bastile (Part X): Aquarium - Family
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Failing. Falling in a black, burning abyss. She screamed, but no sound came from her throat. Her eyes searched frantically, but saw nothing. There was no sense of up or down, no echo of ambient noise, no light of any form. This was nothingness, for she was nothing. She had a mission, which she had failed. She had comrades, whom she had let down. She was less than nothing, an embarrassment. A failure.

Nopony would miss the failure. Many would be happy to be rid of her, for the world had no need of weaklings. It was shaped only by strength, and all who thought otherwise were fools. This was where she belonged, where the thread of her fate had always led. There was no pain, only the agony of knowledge. The failure was useless, and this was where useless things belonged.

Useless... The word became a sound, not because the failure spoke it, but by its own power. A sound in a soundless place, as strange and deafening as a pin dropped in a silent concertorium. The crackle of fire came next, drawing all toward it. As the failure slid through the abyss toward the sound, she felt a sense of identity return. For how long had she forgotten who she was?

Useless. The failure felt the heat of the fire against her face, but still could not see it. There was no air to breathe here, no sounds to hear here, and so she could only surmise that wherever the fire crackled from, it was not here. How had she come to this abyss in the first place? It did not matter. She could not move on her own, but the fire drew all things to itself. The failure shut her eyes, and found that she could see.

The fire was warm, friendly. It danced inside a strong stone fireplace, a primal force bound to the service of civilized ponies. She felt... happy. Though she could not place the memory, the sight of a warm fire like that one somehow meant she was in a safe place. The mare opened her eyes, which caused the scene to vanish. For some reason, this seemed wrong, but she ignored it and closed her eyes tight again.

This was where she belonged, was it not? The fire had called to her, drawn her here. Out of the abyss and into the warm world. It had not been her decision, the fire had made it for her. But... no, that was silly. A fire was an element, like wind or water. It could not bring a mare into the world... what had, then? She opened her eyes for a moment and tried to order her thoughts.

Klunk. Her eyes popped shut, and she saw a faint aura of magic wink out of existence as another log dropped into the fire. Unicorns used magic, not earth ponies. She had good friends who were unicorns. Friends like... like... why could she not remember their names? There was one with a harp, and one who... who... The grey mare yawned. Who was she, anyway? Unicorns. Something important about unicorns. Unicorns she knew, unicorns-

"Octavia."

Her ears perked up. No, the fire had not spoken. She was still sitting in front of it, held by the same crackle that had drawn her here. Something else had said that name. With her eyes wide shut, she slowly turned her head toward where the sound had come from. It was a unicorn, resting in a stuffed chair near the fireplace, he looked down at her face with a faint scowl of disapproval. The grey mare reached up to wipe her mouth, thinking that to be the reason for his mood, then let her hoof roam further. She felt her forehead, flat as always, then brushed back her mane.

The unicorn sighed. "Useless." He leaned forward in the chair and rested his chin on his front hooves. "No matter how hard I try, you are still worthless."

She swallowed hard and opened her eyes, but the scene remained.

He looked down at her and lifted his goblet of wine with a precise ring of magic. "Now, now. I know it is not your fault. You would if you could, Octavia, but..." he took a reflective sip. "You cannot." He set the glass back down and turned his gaze to the fire. "Tell me, daughter. Refresh my spirit. What are you?"

The grey mare knew. It was all so very clear now. All the noise had fled, all the emptiness was filled. The dream was gone, burned away by the fire. That noise, that crash, the mumblety-peg mantra hissing through her thoughts, all those things were figments. Weaknesses. There was only one truth, and he had taught it to her long ago.

"I am a tool, Father." Octavia felt so warm. The blackness was gone. The illusion had fallen away. "An instrument of the strong. I carry out their will. I ensure their dominance." As she spoke, she felt no need to smile. It would have been unbecoming of one such as herself. "I am a Jäger."

He was silent for a long moment, watching the fire dance. "You are all I have in the world. Pathetic, really. Once I was the greatest of our calling, but now, because of you, I am nothing more than the ash in the fireplace." The stallion looked back to her, his face weary. "You are my legacy, Octavia."

The earth pony bowed her head. She had been born a failure. Her father had tried so very hard, and she loved him so very much, but there was no changing what she was. Octavia was a failure by birth, by deed, and by fate.

Her father nodded, as though reading her thoughts and approving of them. "And yet," he took another sip of wine, "I cannot simply rid myself of you and try again. So I am condemned to making do with what I have. A test of my will, my strength, my right to be a Jäger."

"I... I am sorry, Father."

The stallion rolled his eyes. "Sorrow is useless. It distracts from the moment." He leaned toward her again, almost out of the chair. "And to a sniper, the moment is everything. Your mind must be clear, your body ready, and your will absolute. You must kill with power, again and again, you must be worthy of that weapon in your fetlocks!" The firelight's reflection flickered in his eyes as he tried to pour his strength into this unworthy vessel. "Your mind is all you possess that is able to lay claim to the title of Jäger, my daughter. Look at me."

She lifted her head, hoping for an instant that he might validate her existence. Instead, she felt herself knocked to the ground by a hoof across the face. It would not bruise, and the sting was already gone, but the message was clear.

"If you were any other mare, I would have killed you already." He took a calming breath and slumped back into the chair. "You have botched training assignments, hesitated at key moments, and shown weakness at every turn."

Octavia bit her lower lip. She would not cry. She could not cry. That would only shame her father even more.

"But... you are not any other mare. You are my daughter." He finished the last of the wine in the goblet. "And so, you must do this for me." The unicorn glared down at her. "You must." He leaned forward again, "you must."

"Affirmative, Father," the grey mare whispered from the floor. She pulled herself upright again, then nodded slowly to show she understood.

The stallion studied her for a long moment, then the barest hint of a smile graced the corners of his muzzle. "One day, Octavia. One day, I know you will make me proud."

Yes. Anything. Her heart lept, and she bowed her head ever so slightly to hide her blush. The warmth of the fire had filled her now, and all memory of the void was gone. She was home again.

"Oh, don't be foolish, dear. She's a mudpony." The new voice sauntered into the study, a bottle of wine floating in her aura. "She'll never amount to anything, their kind never does."

Octavia recognized the body the voice came from, but it was somehow... different. Twisted. It did not flow like the notes she remembered. Wait, what were notes? Her eyes chanced upon the mark on her own flank, and a flood of understanding overwhelmed her mind. Notes, staves, scales, melodies, rhythm, tempo, harmony, octaves! Then, with a crash of comprehension that seemed to split her skull: ...Music!

The voices swirled around her for a moment, then fizzed back down to comprehensible noises. She felt dizzy, weightless, and for a moment feared that the black abyss was calling for her again, but it was something else. A strange flickering in the corner of her vision, as though the paintings in her Father's study were melting. The grey mare turned her head slightly and the distortion faded, but she knew there had been something there. A hum, a buzz, a sound of some kind that frightened her.

"Octavia."

Her eyes snapped back to the stallion, all fear forgotten at the sound of him speaking her name. He looked different than he had a moment ago. Older. Colder. The fire no longer flickered in his eyes the way it had a moment ago. She leaned her head to the side, then reached up to rub her eyes with a fetlock. That infernal hum was pounding, dancing from the floor up her spine and down again. Did Father hear the hum too?

"Music. My daughter's talent is music." He sighed deeply. "For many years, I thought that it was a mistake, that the mark on your flank meant elegance in execution... but that was a false hope."

Octavia started to say something, then covered her mouth with a hoof. This was familiar, all too familiar. It was not merely because she liked the warmth of the fire and adored the voice of her father, she had sat in this very spot and heard him say these exact words before.

"I have taught you everything I know, my daughter. Everything I am, I gave to you." He curled his lip. "But you were not strong enough for it."

She stared at him with her eyes wide, knowing what he would say before he formed the words.

"You are a continual disappointment to me. Not simply because of your body, but because of your heart. There is something in you I have not been able to crush, some... illness of the mind that holds you back from your potential. And I wonder as I sit here what the cause of that might be." He held up the goblet and looked at it curiously.

"It's because she's a mudpony, dear," said the other voice. "Oh, you tried so hard, but you always were silly."

Octavia furrowed her brow. That voice sounded... odd. She had not heard it before. It was like a flute playing out of time, still a well-played flute, but it did not match the music. She did not know what it would say before it spoke.

"I have taught you these skills," her father continued as though the disruption had never occurred, "to protect you. You did not choose to be born, did not choose to be a Jäger, but you did choose to learn. And though you did not become what I hoped for, I at least hope you have learned all you are able."

She nodded. "Affirmative, Father." The earth pony had tried so very hard, but only success or failure mattered.

"Because you will need these skills to survive." He set the goblet down without drinking from it. "This world is your birthright. You may wish to play your cello at a pretty gala, but that is not your world. It can never be your world. You were born a Jäger, and that is a title that will remain with you until the grave claims you as it has claimed all of us. You were born to bring death and sorrow, not joy. Do you understand?"

"I do," Octavia answered, just as she knew she had before. But that before was now. How could what once had been happen again? Why did that hum hurt so?

He picked up his goblet of wine again. "If... if there had been another way, I would have taken it." The stallion sloshed the wine around slowly, then turned to look at the fire. "Any other way, but... I must pass on my mantle, and you are my daughter. You are my legacy." The unicorn turned back to her, and seemed to be searching for evidence in her eyes that he had forged something worthy. After a long moment, he said, "Octavia... it is an elegant name. It fits you."

The grey mare felt her heart leap. "T-thank you, Fath-"

"Dear, you really do need to drink your wine." The voice was back. Octavia saw the mare step up to the side of the chair. "It's for your health, remember?"

For the first time, the stallion looked up at her. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he glanced down at the wine. Octavia twitched her tail to the side. This felt so horridly wrong, but she could not quite put her hoof on why. She looked at the strange voice, and saw it had the form of her mother. That made sense, but why was mother...

"Dear. The wine. Drink it." She smiled at him until he picked the goblet up with a hoof.

"I rather think I have had enough for tonight."

Her eyes turned cold and hard. "Just a little more. For me." She reached down, "you'll feel so much better." The mare's hoof touched his shoulder, and she pushed the fetlock carrying the wine ever so slightly closer to his lips.

A moment passed. Octavia wanted to cry out, to say that all this should not be, but she could not find the words. What happened next shocked her into silence anyway. Her father calmly reached up, grabbed the mare, and threw her against the wall with a pulse of magic. Then he hurled the goblet of wine at her hard enough to smash it across her face. The stallion flicked something off his suit from where she had touched it, and then turned a harsh glare on the slumped pony that resembled her mother.

"You touched me. I warned you long ago about touching me without my permission." He settled back in the chair. The humiliated unicorn mare moaned something, to which her husband responded: "Have you forgotten that it was your filthy blood that defiled my legacy? Before we wed, I asked. I checked, but I trusted you." He turned to look at his daughter. "Love, Octavia. It is a terrible thing. It makes one forget that-"

"Trust is a Weakness," the grey mare intoned crisply.

"Indeed. If I had trusted less and researched more, you would have never been born." He looked at the heap of mare once more, the spilled wine staining the wall and floor red like blood. "Only those you trust can betray you."

Octavia felt a pang of empathy for her mother, and stepped closer to the mare. Her father sighed. She knew that this was that spark of weakness he had tried so hard to push out, but this moment felt so very wrong that she simply had to follow her heart. The form of her mother was shaking with what might have been sobs, and the grey mare reached out a hoof to her.

"Mother, I... let me help you clean-"

Craaack.

The unicorn's neck twisted a full hundred and eighty degrees around, and her eyes locked with the grey mare's. A grin that would have been more at home on a shark stretched across her muzzle. "Thank you, sweetie," she hauled herself to her hooves. "But I don't need any help." An unearthly glow filled her eyes, and the stained flesh of the earth pony's mother fell away. "I wanted to do things the easy way," she chuckled.

Octavia backed away slowly. Who was this mare? Where was her mother? Why was that hum throbbing so loudly? She glanced back at her father, but he had turned stiff as a statue, a dull grey tone leeching all the color from his eyes and fur. "Wha-what are you?"

The unicorn hissed as she shrugged off the last of the false skin. "Oh, you're an interesting one. You're a professional. I could have done so much with a set of skills like yours, but," she spat, "that misogynistic pig you call a father wouldn't just drink the wine."

The grey mare stepped back again, then turned to her father and touched him. Her hoof passed right through his body. "D-da... Father?"

"A memory, you mudpony. But a strong one. I had to corrupt it before I could use it." She cracked her back, then with a deep gasp melted into a glowing white form. "But no, he wasn't going to have any of my wine. Stupid pig. Why does everypony have to make things so difficult?"

Octavia blinked again. "I... you... I know you."

A slow grin spread across the floating creature's face. "Well... what did he call you... Octavia? Yes, Octavia. Why, of course you know me, I'm your fairy godmother!" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

The sniper leaned her head to the side in doubt.

"You've been a bad, bad girl, Octavia. Killing all those ponies. Hurting all those innocents." The specter smiled. "But it's okay. I've come to give you the offer of redemption."

The earth pony felt the fire dying at her back. She shook her head slowly. That hum was so loud, pulsing up through her legs like the ground itself was alive. Could nopony else hear it?

"I do not need... redemption," the grey mare said quietly, and stepped closer to the chair. "I just need my father back."

"Oh, I wanted to help your father too, but the stupid-" she cleared her throat. "He's a hard case. Here, just take my hoof, and I'll make all that icky fear go away. I can see it in your eyes, you've been hurting for so very long, haven't you?"

The assassin nodded slowly. Her thoughts were foggy. This voice seemed kind, and it had risen from her mother. Was it an angel? She glanced over at Father again, trying to understand why this all felt like... like a gun hammered together from mismatched parts and ready to explode the first time it was fired. She looked up at the mare curiously, searching for weaknesses as her Father had taught her.

"Just take my hoof. It'll all be better." The ghostly unicorn chuckled as her irises glowed orange. "Trust me."

Octavia's eyes narrowed as her mind cleared. "Trust is a Weakness."

"Fine then," spat the mare as her body flowed back into its true form. Scoffing Song rolled her head to the side and smiled. "The hard way works for me too." She raised her front legs, and five tendrils began to worm out from each hoof.

The grey mare glanced over her shoulder. Why were there no doors or windows? Her father's study should have a door right... no, just a blank wall. The fire was still lit, so going up the chimney was not an option either. There had to be some way out!

 "I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart, you useless mud-"

Whooomp.

The floor shook, and Octavia felt herself topple to the ceiling. Cracks tore through the walls, and the fire spilled out of its stone box. The grey mare kicked at a crack below her hooves and felt the ceiling give way. She kicked again and dove through the hole just a moment before the screaming specter stood upright again. On the other side was her father's library, a maze of shelves and ancient texts. The cellist felt something tugging at her hooves, and saw that the floor was lined with a musical stave. On it were notes, blessed things that seemed the only honest part of this madhouse.

Stepping on the right ones let her move faster, and lit the path she wanted to take. The wrong ones brought books tumbling down upon her. Right and wrong were defined by the song in her head, the music flowing from her heart to her hooves. It was beautiful, in a terrifying way, since every wrong step brought her closer to the screeching horror behind.

Octavia did not know where she was going. She had to get away, and so she followed the notes. It was as natural as breathing to the cellist. After a moment, she recognized another sound, the lub-dub lub-dub of her pulse. Why was she only hearing it now? As she pondered, a giant shadow of a unicorn fell across one of the bookcases in front of her. The grey mare dove to the side and slid through an empty shelf, then followed the stave on that side of the bookcase away from the shadow. Whatever this thing was, she must not let it catch her.


* * *



Thinking was hard, which unnerved the grey mare. She felt as though she should be able to hold many more thoughts in her head than she could at the moment. As though there was something else eating up all the rehearsal time her orchestra of neurons usually reserved, and so they had to scramble to sight-read anything she submitted for contemplation. Instinct guided her. She ran over the notes, focusing on them until the stave suddenly came to an end. Octavia skidded to a halt and looked around.

She had left the library at some point, and was now out in the air. The sun hung high above her head, but it was... weak. Other ponies staggered around her, but when she looked directly at any of them they disappeared. A loud whistle blast came from some distance off, and she perked her ears as she turned her head. This was a train station. She was standing at a train station with her cello case at her side. Was she waiting to board a train? No, she had no ticket. She was waiting for somepony. The grey mare looked over her shoulder, but the white specter was nowhere to be found. Had she escaped it?

Nothing is finished, she remembered her Father's teachings, until death. Only that closes all things, for somepony who yet lives can still act. That is why you must strike hard, cleaving flesh and bone with your first shot. The grave closes all. Octavia swallowed hard. She was waiting for a train. This was not strange, she had waited for many trains. They were an inexpensive way for a struggling cellist to travel. She was a cellist... right?

The train was coming. Not long now. Octavia felt warm, the sun above was shining down on her. Blurry figures moved around her, and she felt her heart pounding in her barrel. What was this place? Not just the train station, this entire world. Was this the real life, or was it just fantasy? The grey mare closed her eyes and felt her knees wobble. She was just a poor girl, caught up in something her mind seemed unable to comprehend, searching for a way to escape. Octavia leaned her head back and opened her eyes, looking up at the sky in search of some answer. That was why she did not see what made that horrible Brak-um-screeeeeeeeee!

Octavia's eyes snapped down to the train track. All the blurred shapes around her turned to look as well. Muttered fragments of garbled words flooded her ears, louder even than the sound of twisting metal and the screams. She raised a fetlock to her mouth, and found something clutched in it. Paper. On the paper, writing. Words that should have some meaning, but all she could read was a signature at the bottom. His signature. She struggled through the masses of blurred forms toward the train, and saw other blurred forms stumbling out, helped by ponies in red or purple porters' uniforms. The grey mare swept a lock of her mane from her eyes and pushed closer.

Blur after blur, each one vanishing when she looked, slipped by. She moved with the rest of the crowd, helping the wobbling blurs away from the train into the care of other ponies whose faces were fuzzy figments. She did not think, only followed the notes on the ground. One of the blurs, in a purple uniform, had crimson all over his body. They carried him away, but she had no time to look, because the next out was... oh... No. No, no, no. Octavia pushed through the blurs, provoking a flurry of mangled syllables, but she did not care. He was so very still, but she had seen him lay still as stone before. Her mouth was dry, but she begged him to get up, to say something. Father was only steadying himself, she had seen him do it before, and... then... the next.

Mother. Truly mother, not the thing with the voice. She looked so... peaceful. More than she had ever been in life... or at least, more than Octavia had ever seen her. She reached down and touched her cheek. It was so very cold. The noises around her had faded. One of the blurs in a purple uniform took off his cap and held it over his front, covering the pin of a little pony holding up the world many of the railworkers wore.

The hum. It had returned, a low, mournful throb through the ground. Her barrel felt hollow as a red-uniformed porter tried to help her away from the wreck, away from them, away from... her knees gave out. He was just a blur, but she leaned her head against his front and stained his uniform with her tears so her father would not see. She felt the neat brass buttons pressing into her cheek, the fabric against her fur. That was why she could remember the uniforms, even after all this time.

Remember? Octavia blinked and looked up again. This... had happened before too. This was the day her parents had died, and now they were dying once more. That hum was forcing its way through her bones again. The grey mare set her jaw and forced herself upright. All around her, the blurs faded away. She was alone in the world. Her eyes turned to the cello case on the platform, and a stave flowed from it to her hooves. Octavia took a step, then another, following the notes. That was her choice, to pursue her music. It was what her heart wanted. A sensation of strength flickered through her body. It was a good feeling, even though the hum was eating at it. She was walking toward control of her destiny. The grave closes all. Yes, she-

"Always the hard way. Bah, fine, then." The crack of a thunderbolt exploded behind her, and Octavia whirled about to see the white specter cackling madly. She raised her head high and another bolt of energy arced from her horn, into the bodies of the grey mare's parents. Before her horrified eyes, they began to rise, their limbs cocked at unnatural angles and their eyes flickering with some eldritch light. "Listen well, little assassin. I am Scoffing Song, and I will strip away all you hold dear until there is nothing left but death."

Octavia backed up slowly. Assassin. The cello case. Inside, a weapon. Only that closes all things, for somepony who yet lives can still act. That is why you must strike hard, cleaving flesh and bone with your first shot. She turned as though to flee and made for the train platform, grabbing her case and slinging it onto her back as she slid behind one of the sturdy brick ticket booths. The grey mare scrambled further away, into the concrete and iron of the station, then dropped her case behind a wall and reached for the latches...

A chunk of the wall vanished, vaporized by a beam of impossible power. Octavia looked down at her front hooves and saw they were singed. Her cello case was gone, reduced to cinders and scraps of metal. Then she saw the hoof of her father, turned green with rot, claw through the hole in the wall. He hauled himself through and slavered at her, all trace of the stallion she had looked up to gone. Behind him staggered the ravening shell that had once been her mother, the unicorn's beautiful features destroyed by pulsing veins of evil light that stretched out from her eye sockets.

Octavia ran. The cackle of Scoffing Song chased her, a sound that seemed to come from every which way at once as she fled into the trainyard and sought shelter beneath one of the steel monsters resting there. She lay very still, trying to disappear into the metalwork, to vanish as her father had taught her.

"Where are you, little worm? I have all the time in the world to crush your spirit!"

The grey mare felt a tremor run through the ground. That hum had returned. She held her breath and hoped she would not be found, until she saw the shadow of a unicorn fall upon one of the nearby railcars and heard a horrible crunch of metal on metal. Then she dashed out the other side of her hiding place. Her strong legs took her far away, her training let her scale and leap between the sleeping steel beasts, but nothing could keep the fear from her heart as she followed the notes. This world could only come from one place, her own mind. And if that... thing was here, what bastion did Octavia have left? She could only run from something for so long, she needed somewhere to run to.

"Octavia! Come join your parents," laughed The Daughter, her ethereal body held aloft on currents of magic that flowed from her horn to the ground. "Serve me and die!" She stretched out a hoof and levitated a traincar into a coal bunker, creating an unholy racket. "The order's up to you."
> Bastile (Part XI): Aquairum - Weakness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"I'm afraid I have some bad news," said the stallion in the doctor's coat. "It's about your daughter's... ah... perhaps you would like to hear it in private?"

"No." Her father's voice was firm. Octavia did not immediately know where it came from. She had hidden in a refrigerator car, its sterile stainless steel walls reminding her of a doctor's office. To her great surprise, the pony in the doctor's coat had crawled out of one of the cooling vents and was pacing nervously on the ceiling. Her father, a figment of him at least, far removed from that... thing the intruder had molded, also stood on the ceiling.

"It's really not something a little girl should have to worry about-"

"It is her life, doctor. Tell us."

With a sigh, the physician hung his head. "Your daughter has a very rare disorder. It's called..."

Octavia bit her lip and flattened herself against the floor of the car. She remembered this too. That was the day she learned she was a dead mare walking. She should have been born a unicorn, she had a unicorn's blood but no horn. Instead she was a broken earth pony who could not release the magic in her veins properly. Useless.

"Very well," her father said once the doctor was finished explaining. "How much will it cost to correct her mutation?"

"Sir... we can't. It's a genetic defect, nopony-"

Her father reached out and grabbed the doctor by the collar of his coat as though he were picking up an apple. "Do you mean to tell me that there is no might in your horn, doctor, or do you simply lack the fortitude to do what must be done?" His horn glowed gently, and the doctor levitated toward the floor of the refrigerator car. "I have already paid you an exorbitant sum to find out why she has been blacking out and suffering from headaches. Now I am asking you how much more it will take to make those problems disappear."

"Sir, neither technology nor sorcery can change what's wrong with her!" The doctor pawed at his throat and the thin ring of magic that was choking him. "Maybe if we had known when she was in the womb, but she's already several years old! Her aura and magiphysical-"

Her father dropped him on the ceiling like a sack of potatoes. "Money. Is no. Object. How can you not understand that? There is no problem that cannot be resolved with the proper application of force, and I am offering you as much as you need."

The physician rubbed his neck and looked at the grey mare, seeming to see a little filly rather than the frightened cellist. "I... sir, if there was a way, I would do it. I understand your pain, you... you know I have a daughter myself!"

"Yes," her father said quietly. "A beautiful little girl, already dabbling in magic. Hearty, healthy, well-horned." He reached down, relative to his own position on the ceiling at least, and patted the doctor on the back. "You are to be commended on having such a fine young filly to call your own. I would hate for you to have to know what it feels like to be in my shoes." The Jäger smiled at him. "No father should have to beg for his daughter's life, should he?"

Absolute terror gripped the doctor's face. "Please! No... no, not her, I'm sorry!" He grabbed at the other stallion's fetlocks. "If there was any way, I would, but surely you know there are things not even magic can fix!" The doctor swallowed hard. "I will not lie to you, there is nothing I could find that would help. The defect is... is... it's woven into her. There's nothing anypony can do, why, you would have to reach into her very soul!"

Her father rubbed his chin. "There are spells capable of that, and artifacts empowered with the ability to tinker with the bonds-"

"Do you think me a fool?" the physician interrupted with a touch of anger. "I consulted all the books, spoke with several experts, and chased every lead. I would not dare to come to you with news like this if I did not know it to be true beyond a shadow of doubt. A pony's magic comes from the heart, it flows from the chalice of the soul. A unicorn focuses that power through her horn, while an earth pony regulates hers through her physical connection with the ground. Your daughter seems to be incapable of either, and so it is slowly building up and inefficiently discharging. I have researched it thoroughly, and I can find no artifact or spell able to heal her."

Her father took a few very deep breaths, and stepped away from the stallion in the doctor's coat.

"However... there may be a treatment. It would be quite orthodox, but..."

"Tell me."

The doctor stood upright and adjusted his coat. "You mentioned before that your daughter seems predisposed toward music... this may be an instinctive drive to correct her body's failing by releasing it into her playing."

Her father turned slowly and looked at him as though he had just eaten his own stethoscope.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds. Many of the greatest musicians pour their hearts and souls into their work, playing to exhaustion in some cases. I've treated one who very nearly died from dehydration. Perhaps your daughter feels driven to compensate for her deficiency by releasing the... energy through her music."

Octavia put her hooves over her ears and whimpered softly. The pain. She remembered the pain, building inside her, pulsing through her brain, just like that hum she could feel through the car floor. It was getting closer. She rolled open the door and bolted out, leaving the memory behind.

"Useless... I'm useless." The grey mare held back tears as she ran. She would never be free. There was nowhere to run, she was just delaying the inevitable. Octavia ducked under a traincar as a horrible sound of metal toppling into pavement told her where the intruder was. She hid behind a huge wheel on a rusting locomotive as the shadow of a unicorn fell across a nearby railcar, then doubled back before taking off in a different direction.

She could still feel the hum. Whoooom. Why was she fighting this? The intruder's voice echoed through the trainyard, taunting her, "you can only run for so long, my little pony!"

Octavia sighed. She was right. The sensible thing was to roll over and die. There was no point to running, and maybe that horrible hum would stop once she was dead. Even so... the thought of what that specter had done to the memories of her parents turned her stomach. In her heart was some cold fire that kept her from simply giving in and letting herself be taken. The earth pony had always been a fighter since the day she had been born. That was why she was alive to have this nightmare.

She took a few deep breaths and considered her options. No weapons, no escape route, and no way to call for aid. The grey mare ran a hoof over her neck and felt... naked. Why, she did not know. Was she supposed to be wearing a necklace or something? That only made her more worried, for though she was willing to accept that this battlefield was in her mind, she was terrified by the idea that her memories might be... damaged. Incomplete. For what was she without some recollection of the things that made her Octavia?

"Useless," she answered quietly as she snuck down a narrow corridor between two massive passenger trains. The glass mouths of their broken windows leered down at her. She had no purpose, she just kept on living and making others' lives miserable. Like some kind of four-legged-

"You little cockroach!" roared the white specter, soaring down from the heavens on wings of crackling magic. "I have you now!"

Octavia ran, her legs pumping and heart racing. She did not want to die, even though she had no reason to live. The earth pony slid through a gap between train cars and came face to face with the growling corpse of her mother. She kicked it in the forehead and ran. Frantic plans flew through her mind, from the mundane idea of checking the train cars for firearms to the mad scheme of firing up one of the engines and flooding the sky with smoke to hide herself from the intruder. Before she could try anything, she heard the groan of the traincar to her right being toppled by magic, and dove beneath the one on her left.

The cars began falling all around her like dominos, each one shaking the ground as megagrams of steel toppled into one another. She jumped atop one, then scrambled up another to gain enough elevation for a jump onto a wobbling car. Scoffing Song was using her magic to push it over, and had her eyes closed in concentration. With that cold fire still burning in her heart, Octavia sprung out into the air and kicked the intruder in her face.

The unicorn sailed back over one railcar, and smacked into another. Octavia hit the ground hard, forced herself to her hooves, and took a deep breath. If she was to die, she would not go gently. A sudden sense of déjà vu rushed through her mind at that thought, but she pushed it aside. She needed to focus. How could she turn this situation to her advantage? The answer was simple. Seize the moment.

The grey mare squirmed through a narrow gap in search of the intruder. She needed to press her advantage while the target was on the defensive. Now was the time to run to the target, not away. She had to force this monster out of her mind.

Stopping only to pick up a loose iron bar, which she held between her teeth, the mare plodded quietly toward where she had heard Scoffing Song crash into a railcar. She peeked around a tangle of rusted steel beams and saw the dent where the mare had hit, but the unicorn was nowhere to be found. Octavia swallowed hard. She felt the hum growing again, knew that it meant the intruder had to be close, and wanted to run. It was foolish to try and face her. She was just a mudpony who had to carry her weapon between her teeth! With a glance over her shoulder, the grey mare slipped into the shadow of one of the railcars and tried to get a closer look. 

Scoffing Song could be hurt. Her father had shown her that. There is no problem that cannot be resolved with the proper application of force. She was controlling the situation, concealing herself until she knew more about the target, searching for a weakness. Pride. She had pricked this intruder's pride, and that was her shortcoming. Octavia kept her tongue away from the iron pole in her mouth without even thinking about it. Earth ponies learned such things quickly. Even so, the taste and smell of iron drifted through her thoughts.

A trail of blood led from the dent, under the damaged car, and out the other side. Octavia circled around rather than following it directly, and saw that the trail led between another narrow gap. The grey mare considered for a moment, then spotted a few metal rungs on the side of a nearby railcar. She climbed atop it, thinking it would be better to lose the target for a moment than be bludgeoned unawares. Staying low, she looked over the edge and saw that her fears had been well founded. The two reanimated corpses of her parents stood on each side of the gap. Octavia swallowed hard and searched the sky for the intruder, then glanced back down at her parents.

No. They are not my parents. Not anymore. She looked back up at the sky, searching for something she could exploit, but saw only a cargo crane that was too far away for her to reach. Besides, what good would a crane be against a mare who could throw trains with her magic? They are not my parents. They are targets. She forced back a tear, knowing this was the weakness her father had tried so hard to purge from her. Octavia still saw her parents in the rotting shapes below, and that held her back from acting smoothly and dispassionately. This was different than a quick kick, this was premeditated murder. She should leap down and crush both of their skulls with her pipe. That would rid her of two enemies and allow her to focus on the weakened Scoffing Song.

She slid back from the edge. Could she do it? Could she finally make her father proud? Octavia gathered her willpower and made sure she had a solid grip on the pipe. It would be... it would be a mercy, would it not? Yes, this was what she must do. Then she could regain control of her mind. How had she entered this mad world of memory, anyway? Worse... if her attention was here, what was happening in the physical world? She had to do this. Octavia stood up and stepped to the side of the train, her legs coiled and ready to drop down. She peeked over the side one last time, and wondered for an instant why the ground seemed so far away before the train flipped onto its side.


* * *



The earth pony fell face-first into the ground, with Scoffing Song's laughter taunting her all the way. She rolled upright and readied her pipe, but the two shambling monsters that had once been her parents were already on her. Octavia swung the pipe and smacked one in the chin, all restraint forgotten in the face of pure terror, but it seemed to ignore the blow even though its jaw now hung loose. A few shattered teeth oozed out, along with a trail of spittle, but the corpse-pony's grip did not loosen. She swung the pipe again, but a glow of magic ripped it out of her teeth before it could connect.

"Ah-ah, can't have you ruining this, now can we?" the specter chortled. She reached up and casually bent the iron pipe into a ball, then tossed it through the window of a nearby passenger car. "You've ruined enough already, wouldn't you say?"

Octavia tried to kick free with her hindlegs, but despite hearing the crack of bone, the two parodies of her parents did not fall. She squirmed, thinking she should know some way to get out of this, some trick of close combat, but... no, her father had never taught her too much of that. Still she struggled, for the cold fire in her heart refused to give out.

This amused The Daughter. "Why do you fight so hard? I'm only trying to make you happy. You love being put upon, ground into the dirt, ordered about, do you not? You were born to be a slave, you are only happy when somepony is making you beg for recognition. Why else would you put up with him?" The glowing unicorn pointed at what used to be the grey mare's father. "Why else would you play that old classical music? Nopony really loves that stuff, it's just expected. It's a status symbol, like a fancy dress."

She stepped closer to the grey mare, adding just the right amount of contempt to her voice. "One has to have classical music at a ritzy party, and one has to be seen going to the classical concerts. Oh, I like to listen to it now and again, something of a guilty pleasure, but it's not like it'll ever be popular like in the old days. And you'll never be a star with classical music. You'll just be a name on a flier, mixed in with the rest of the orchestra and pushed around by the managers with all the real power."

Octavia whimpered softly, then shut her eyes. Something was wrong with the words the specter was using. They seemed to slip and squirm as they entered her ears. This... this was something she knew about but... but what was it? Word, idea, concept, enemy, power, magic, unnatural, manipulation, sorcery, mind, the grey mare gasped for breath and jerked against her captors, witch! It was as though she had never heard the word before, and it seemed to have some hidden meaning she was not aware of a minute ago.

"That's why you came here, isn't it? Somepony ordered you to, and so you went running along like a good little mudpony. You came to kill me." Scoffing Song threw back her head and laughed. "Rule of heel, Octavia. You can't kill the Chosen One!"

Her laugh echoed through the trainyard, taunting the grey mare again and again. That hum was pounding in her skull, louder even than her own pulse. There was nowhere to run. She had failed, again. She would never make her father proud. Octavia looked up to the sky, and saw only a weak sun in it. Still, she whispered softly, for what harm could it do, "help."

Scoffing Song laughed again, and took another step closer. "Your masters can't hear you in here, Octavia. They'll never know what happened to you, nopony will. I serve a True Power, and I'm sure your soul will make a delicious sacrifice." The unicorn floated a few centimeters above the ground, held up by little sparks of magic. "Don't you see? I won before you ever set hoof in my enclave. I won the day you were born. I always win, even when stupid mudponies make it hard." She huffed. "Really, everypony does. I always have to work to get my way,  but I always do in the end. And soon, I'll never have to work for anything else again, it'll all flow right to me, I'll just have to lie back and open wide!"

Only a meter or so separated the two mares. Scoffing Song reached out with her magic and forced Octavia's mother to turn the earth pony's head so their eyes met. "Now. Say it. Say that I won, and you lost, and you want me to order you about because it's the only way you'll ever be happy." She smiled wide, then slowly her ears began to rise as Octavia remained silent. "Say it!"

The grey mare found she could not say anything. She felt like something had given way in her mind and a roaring wave of water was flooding all her thoughts out her ears. For the longest time she thought that her genetic defect had finally won out, and her brain had literally exploded inside her skull. Part of it, at least, just enough to leave her a vegetable that could barely breathe on its own. That had always been a quiet fear of hers. Then she heard something that terrified her even more, though she could not explain why. "Fooound yooooou!"
> Bastile (Part XII): Aquarium - Claimant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A shadow fell over the knot of ponies. Octavia looked up and saw that the sun had been blocked by the silhouette of a pony wearing a hat and trenchcoat who was perched atop the traincar. It reared up, then stomped its front hooves against the roof. With a groooan the metal plate pressed against Octavia's back retracted like a garage door, revealing a wall made from squares of an odd black metal mesh. On each square, etched in bone-white cursive, was the word Mareshall.

Scoffing Song's left eye twitched as she stared in mute incomprehension. "What in the black pits of-"

PwaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA... Whooomp.

The grey mare found herself knocked flat, completely disoriented. She wondered for a moment if that wet feeling in her ears was blood. With what seemed a heroic effort, she experimentally daubed a limp hoof against the side of her head, then felt her eyelids flutter shut.

Noises came to her though the ground, as trembles rather than sounds, and she wondered where the two things that had been holding her had gone. For a few long seconds, her entire world was the feeling of railyard gravel against her belly.

So... tired. Octavia bit her lip and forced herself to stand up, then shook her head to dislodge the numbness. Her eyes spun a few more times before she could see straight again. The two reanimated corpses were still flat on the ground. Octavia's knees wobbled, but she managed to stay upright as she looked around. Earth ponies were built tough. The intruder seemed to have hit the opposite railcar hard, then bounced down to the ground. She had collapsed in a heap like a discarded cleaning cloth, her tail splayed over her upended body and her horn half-buried in gravel.

That titanic shadow still hung over them. Octavia lifted her head just in time to see its source fall to the ground. It was a mare, dressed in red, with an unruly cobalt and cyan mane hanging out from under her hat. She did not turn to look at the stunned assassin, but strode leisurely over to where the specter lay. Octavia felt her hearing slowly return, and realized that there was a curious high-pitched whine coming from Scoffing Song. Perhaps the whine was supposed to be some kind of speech, but if so the grey mare's ears had not recovered enough for her to comprehend it.

The new arrival cleared her throat and swished her tail to the side, waiting for the specter to get up. After she grew bored, she hauled Scoffing Song upright by the left front leg, then raised her own. An evil red glow flickered from behind the pony's purple shades as she slapped the witch right in the side of the head with the back of her hoof. The mare dropped like a sack of busted vodka bottles, this time completely silent. However, the creature in red was not done with her yet. It reached down and picked up the limp body, then yanked open one of the mare's eyelids, which drew a scream and a gasp from Scoffing Song.

"Das," the new arrival pointed an unnaturally pale front hoof toward the grey mare, "ist mein Octavia."

The unicorn's mouth hung open in shock. "Buh... buh... wha... how?" She tried to push the mare in red away. "I should be the strongest here, I-"

With a sigh, the creature in red held up her slapping hoof again, and the unicorn scuttled backward in fright. A sly grin crossed the pale pony's face.

"No." Scoffing Song rubbed her eye. "No, I know what you are. You're just another memory." A mean smirk of her own began to work across The Daughter's muzzle. "A thug, is that all you have left, Octavia?" The specter turned to look at the grey mare, who had finally recovered enough to begin to make out words. Sparks began to flicker from her horn to the ground. "You drug up some street trash to hurl at me, and thought it would-"

Yoink-BAP!

Scoffing Song was on the ground again, another nasty bruise beginning to form on her face. The pale mare snickered, and rubbed her slapping hoof against her front.

The cult leader scooted backward again, then lept into the air. Her horn crackled with angry sparks, and the passenger cars around them began to wobble as she reached out with her magic. "No, little figment. You have no idea what you're dealing with!"

The pale mare yawned.

"I could just freeze you like I did her father, but no. No, I'm through trying to salvage anything from this mess." She raised her front hooves with a mad cackle. The four nearest traincars levitated into the air, then crashed against one another with incredible force until they tore apart into shards of steel and iron. Metal rain fell upon the mare in red, and though she tried to dodge across the newly-opened ground, many tore through her flesh and splattered her blood all across the railyard gravel. "I'm going to slice you into a million pieces, then bury you under all this, and I'm going to do it right in front of your little mudpony's eyes so she can see that in comparison to you," Scoffing Song threw her head back and laughed, "I am a demigod!"

Octavia tried to think of something, anything she could do to turn the tide, but... but she was a mudpony. She really was useless. Why was this... this mare she did not even remember, fighting to protect her? Abruptly, it ceased to matter. With a shink, a particularly large piece of metal impaled the pale mare, leaving her hanging a meter off the ground. Red vitae oozed down the scrap of train.

Scoffing Song brushed her front hooves together and smirked. "Really? That's all? Really."

"Really."

The specter looked back and forth, then down at the hanging corpse. Had it spoken? "R-really."

"Really?" There could be no doubt, it was that same cold voice with just a touch of evil.

"Really!" the Daughter spat back, as if she could silence the troublesome pony by pouring enough venom into her words.

A red glow flickered behind the pale mare's purple shades as her head slowly rose. "Really!" She threw herself to the side, ripping free of the spike with a gut-wrenching prrschlorp, and rolled upright. After a shake of her mane, she seemed little the worse for wear. The unicorn's horn glowed, and little trails of blue light etched over the rune-encrusted technosorcery she wore under her trenchcoat. "Releasing The Wubs, level one."

"Level what?" the specter started to say. She was abruptly cut off when a pair of speakers finished materializing next to the mare in red, and a sonic shockwave resonated through the strips of metal sticking out of the ground. It bounced from spike to spike like they were a forest of tuning forks, before roaring up into the sky. Scoffing Song tried to fly away, but the unicorn's levitation could not push her to supersonic speeds in time. The wall of sound hit her like a hammer, sending her into a screaming spiral until she hit the ground and skidded to a stop a few meters away from Octavia.

The pale mare sauntered toward them, her speakers melting back into the runes beneath her trenchcoat. She yawned again, then adjusted her hat to shield her face from the weak sun overhead. "Y'know, you're really lucky. I don't normally make daylight appearances, but sometimes you have to go where the audience is."

Octavia stared down at the crashed wreck of her tormentor. Her knees were still weak, but at least that wet feeling had gone from the sides of her head. Had it only been her imagination? She turned her gaze toward the mare in red and stared at her. A moment later, the pale unicorn reciprocated.

"Hey babe." The pale mare smiled as she tilted her purple shades down. Her eyes were twin pools of crimson, each swirling around a black abyss and surrounded by a field of bonemeal. Her fur was a sickly shade of white with just a touch of yellow, and there was no blush of life in her cheeks. But most terrifying to Octavia were those teeth. Each one was sharp, looking as though it could rend metal, and the crown jewels were two long fangs.

The assassin gasped, and took a step back. A strained laugh came from the specter as she struggled to her hooves again. "A vampire. A tale made up to frighten fillies. That's all you could dream up to stop me? I serve a True Power, I have seen horrors beyond your comprehension!" A touch of her bravado faded as she winced in pain, then turned a glare toward the pale mare. "But you got me good. I'll... admit that." The specter coughed.

"Mmm-hmm," replied the vampire as she took a step toward the intruder.

"Ah-ah," Scoffing Song grinned. "Halt."

The mare in red raised an eyebrow, but obligingly froze mid-step. Then she yawned. "Why'd you two have to hash this out in the middle of the day..."

The specter tilted her head to the side, and her eyes glowed with anger. "I said halt!"

Octavia looked from one to the other, wondering if she should attack the intruder while she was distracted, but... but she was so strong, and... I am just a mudpony. When I tried that before, I failed. I am... I'm... useless. Scoffing Song threw a glare at her, just to make sure she would not have the courage to act.

"Psst."

The grey mare looked over at the pale pony, who mouthed something to her. Octavia leaned her head to the side, then blinked.

"Green light!" mouthed the mare in red again.

"Green light?" Octavia said, her mind still rattled. In response, the pale mare bounded toward the specter, a merry gleam of bloodlust twinkling in her eyes.

"Halt!" screamed Scoffing Song, backstepping a few paces in fright. With a sigh, the mare in red froze, then rolled her eyes. The intruder took a deep breath. "What's wrong with you, stupid figment? You should be turning grey by now and stiffening like a statue!" With a grand gesture, she shooed the unicorn away. "I've no more time for you, I've things to do!"

"What things?" the mare with fangs asked innocently.

"Important things! Things a figment like you would never..." her voice trailed off slowly as she began to realize that the pale mare did not seem completely at the mercy of her mind-warping will.

"Pssh. I do things too. I take enthusiastic walks," she winked at Octavia, as though waiting for a punchline.

The grey mare scratched her head. "Green light?"

"No, no, you know... and kill homocidal vampire Educarchyites."

Octavia blinked hard. "Ah... What is an Educarchyite?"

The mare in red sighed. "Never mind. It didn't work." She reached up and pulled off her shades. "It did not work."

Scoffing Song stomped toward the pale mare and raised a hoof, her anger getting the better of her common sense. An expression of absolute, uncontrollable glee stretched across the vampire's face, and her red eyes bored deep into the other unicorn's. "Dooo it. Do it. Do it, do it, do it!"

The specter swallowed very hard and took a few large steps away. "N-no. No... I've a better way of swatting a fly." Her horn pulsed again, and a column of magic lifted her off the ground. She reached out her aura and levitated a massive steam locomotive. Scoffing Song gritted her teeth as the strain of controlling her magic took its toll on her astral projection, then grinned in triumph as she hurled the huge steel behemoth at the little pony on the ground below. The cult leader leaned her head back and laughed as it fell. After a moment, she wondered why there was no earth-shaking crash!

"Did you... eh... forget I'm a unicorn too, smart one?" The vampire's horn glowed bright blue as she yawned again and dumped the steam engine on a nearby set of tracks. "Now, I was totally going to do you a solid and dodge out of the way in time so you'd get that feeling of satisfaction, but you were tossing this thing too close to my main mare over there." She waved a hoof at Octavia, who nodded slowly in gratitude, still shellshocked.

Scoffing Song huffed, feeling as though steam was hissing from her ears, then pressed a hoof to her forehead. She needed to think. How droll. She was so very, very close to absolute power, why did she have to deal with this now?

Meanwhile, Octavia was struggling to recover. I need to move. I need to fight. I need to... to do something! The grey mare swallowed hard. I... I am useless. Is that why this mare in red is here? To remind me how useless I am? She felt a spark of anger flicker in her heart. I do not need her charity. I do not need anypony! I just... I... Octavia looked up and saw the specter glaring down at her with absolute hatred.

"You're just going to let her fight all your battles for you, aren't you, little mudpony?" taunted the intruder, continuing to funnel her anger into her gaze. She still had the upper hoof. All she had to do was pour her emotions into the mudpony, who would then lash out against her protector, and then both would die. It was a perfect plan. All she had to do was stuff this Octavia full of rage and hatred, make her see how pathetic she really was. The cult leader resisted the urge to cackle with what she considered a heroic effort.

Octavia turned her eyes to the pale mare and bit her lower lip. She thinks I am useless. Everypony thinks I am useless. She is only here to remind me I am useless. A blush of rage began to appear on her cheeks. She was that hum, that awful, awful hum!

The mare in red yawned again, then strolled over to the earth pony and held out her front legs. "You look rough, babe. Hug?"

Octavia's left eye twitched. She felt the twitch spread down to her front legs, and before she knew what she was doing she socked the vampire right in the muzzle. It was... good. As though she had owed the pale mare that for a very long time. Then a wave of nausea rolled over her, and the grey mare fell to her knees as she emptied her stomach. I... feel so... Her skin seemed to be boiling hot, and her fur quickly turned wet from sweat. Wrong. She heaved again, only vaguely aware that the vomit was splashing on a red trenchcoat in the corner of her vision. Her muscles felt so weak. Octavia realized she was about to fall into a pool of her own puke, but there was no way she could stay upright. I am... useless.

Then something cold wrapped around her barrel. "Easy, easy. Frack, girl, you must have had one hades of a party before I showed up." Octavia felt and saw something red drag across her mouth, wiping the vomit off. A chilly body pressed against her side, drawing out the heat of rage.

"Hey, you can't do that!" Scoffing Song roared. "She hit you!"

The vampire hugged Octavia upright, letting her spit out the last traces of bile in her mouth. "And... that's supposed to stop me from doin' this?" She flicked on her purple shades with a pulse of her horn. "Sheesh, girl, you ain't been to many cheap drink nights at the rave club, have ya?"

Scoffing Song growled. The stupid mudpony had not gotten angry and clobbered the stupid vampire. She had vented the injected hate through her sweat and her vomit, just as the floating unicorn had through her magical gaze. If Scoffing Song had been in a more charitable mood, she would have called it ingenious. Perhaps the grey mare's body instinctively tried to center itself, just as its owner tried to keep her mind calm. Still, all was not lost. Maybe she could needle the vampire. "So what? Do you truly wish to be friends with a worm who hits you and defiles your clothes?"

"Uh... that's kinda a requirement for the position, yeah." The vampire scratched her mane, then yawned again. "I mean, she doesn't commit arson on a whim, or pick fights with flyboy gangs, and she usually yells at me when I turn my music up loud, but I can let that stuff slide." She rubbed Octavia's poll gently. "You good?"

The earth pony nodded slowly. She felt better, but still... useless. "T-thank you."

"No problem. A good friend helps a friend in need." The vampire winked. "You taught me that."

Octavia turned to look at the vampire, then blinked. "I... did?"

"Yup!" replied the vampire as she helped the grey mare into the shade of a railcar. "That's why I've been looking for you. I could tell somethin' was wrong."

"The hum, yes," replied the earth pony. A rancid taste filled her mouth. "You were that hum, and the... the noise that cracked my Father's den?"

"Dead on," said the pale mare with a smirk. "I tried to glomp you in the library, then again out here, but you kept goin' your own way."

Octavia leaned her head to the side as she tried to comprehend. Above, Scoffing Song was rubbing her fetlocks together as she tried to come up with another plan. Things had deteriorated rather rapidly.

"The notes," clarified the mare in red. "You'd follow them up to a point, then duck away just before I got to you." She reached out and tapped the grey earth pony's barrel. "The notes came from your heart, I just pulled at the stave with mine. You know me, gimmie a sound and I can bend it!" She reared up on her hindlegs and flexed like a superheroine. "Ha! I put my heart in action!"

Without conscious thought, her mind still foggy and her mouth tinged with bile, Octavia smiled. "You do not have a heart." Then she blinked. "I... I am sorry, I do not know what came over m-"

"Nah, nah, you're bang-on." The vampire grinned wide, exposing more teeth than any creature should have. "You remember!"

"I..." the grey mare held a hoof to her head. "I remember... something."

"A fleeting glimpse out of the corner of your eye?" crooned the pale mare.

Octavia swallowed. "I do not know... but... I..."

"You trust me?"

The earth pony's head jerked up, and her eyes narrowed. "Trust is a Weakness." She slid a few centimeters away from the vampire. Father is gone. Mother is gone. I am alone.

"Uh..." the vampire's lower lip began to wobble. "Um..."

"Die!" Seizing the moment, Scoffing Song swooped down from above, a large sledgehammer in her front hooves. The vampire glanced up, then sighed.

"D'you mind? Kinda in the middle of a-" the sledgehammer head hit her squarely in the face, knocking the pale mare back several meters. She lay very still. Octavia wondered how she could survive a hunk of metal through the body but not a mere whack in the head, then saw a sharp shard of iron sticking out of the pale mare's face. Cold iron.

"Ah, the direct approach," gloated the cult leader, producing another rail spike as she turned and walked toward the earth pony. "But I do hate getting my hooves dirty with plebeian work."

Octavia hauled herself upright and backed away slowly. then stopped. Her muscles had relaxed. The fear was gone, replaced with a cold sense of control. She was slipping into a fusion of conscious thought and muscle memory, just like in the moments before she pulled a trigger. Why?

"Because your close-combat review scores are unacceptable, Miss Octavia." A voice she could not recognize rushed by in a gust of wind. "And, as a fellow earth pony, there is no reason to ignore the abilities you were born with. My maidservant will train you on the practical side, but... she is not very good at communicating the more complex theoretical concepts. Hmm. Officer Rollins was raised at Pendulum, I'm sure he will be happy to tailor a course to your skill level."

Scoffing Song swung. Octavia rolled forward, under the blow, and sprung upward. The poll of her head rammed into the unicorn's chin, and her magical aura winked out from the pain. Both the sledgehammer and the rail spike fell to the ground as the grey mare tackled her attacker.

"You little-" sputtered the cult leader.

"You are a riflemare, Miss Octavia. A fine one, yes, but I have many riflemares. The Organization demands more from you."

The Organization. That meant something. It was a powerful word. At first that seemed a ridiculous concept, for there were many organizations. There were organizations for musicians, for magicians, for mailmares, and for animal lovers. And yet... the word sounded so very ancient when the wind spoke it. As though there had once been only The Organization, and all others were merely similar ideas built upon fairy-tales or myths that had been passed down through the ages. It was not her Father's organization. The Organization would not be something he could approve of. She knew this to be true as she held the unicorn in a sleeper hold.

I have to make him proud. I am his legacy. I am a Jäger. I-

"My father told me, when I was a very young filly, that it is our honor to feed the hungry. He told me that many mistook profit for success. It is an indicator of achievement, nothing more. True profit is found in Harmony. For when a customer trusts you to give her a good value for her bit, you will earn that bit again and again." The wind stilled as the unicorn beneath her went limp, then blew through the railyard again. "I know I have your loyalty, and that is worth more than you could ever eat. Believe it or not, your upkeep is usually less than the cost of cleaning up after your friend."

Octavia's eyes widened. Her legs went slack around the unicorn's neck. She had... sworn fealty to this voice? Was it another trick? Fear gripped her heart. What would Father think?

Scoffing Song let out a scream of rage and exploded upwards, sending the grey mare flying across the gravel. Octavia landed next to the mare in red, then recoiled in horror. The spike had slammed in right between the vampire's eyes, shattering her glasses. Red vitae oozed over her pale fur and dripped to the gravel. I... is she dead? Something about the power of cold iron against monsters rattled around in the cellist's thoughts, but she could not quite grasp it. She was kind to me, tried to help me even after I hurt her.

The earth pony rolled upright, put her head in her fetlocks, and whimpered softly. Dead.  This was too much. Mother. Father. Her. All because of how useless I am. Octavia took a very deep breath, trying to focus... but then a little giggle escaped her. "Very well. Very well, then. You mean to break me." Her eyes turned skyward. "To make me go crazy. Nuts. Insane. Bonzo. No longer in possession of my faculties. Three hayfries short of a happy meal." The cellist paused for a breath, "wacko!"

Octavia giggled again. It was a long giggle, like a banner of paper dolls cut with safety scissors. "Well, you have done it, do you hear me!" Too much, oh, too much for any mare. Voices in the wind. Vampires. Committing herself to something called The Organization. Father would never approve of that. Father dead. Fighting a levitating unicorn in a trainyard in her mind, with the help of an unremembered ally. Mother dead. Too much.

And yet... why did she feel so clear-headed now? The earth pony pulled herself upright. "Clear now. It is all so very, very, clear now. Why?"

"Sometimes you gotta be crazy to think straight," said the pale mare with the spike through her face. "Can you lend me a hoof here?"

Octavia jerked in surprise, then looked up. Scoffing Song was coming around for another pass. "Who are you?"

A long hiss of disappointment rose from the vampire, whose tongue did not seem affected in the least by having an iron spike through the part of her head where her brain should be. "You don't remember? Really?"

The assassin shut her eyes and tried to think back.

"Dunno if I ever told you this part, but I worked as a club bouncer before I got famous as a DJ. Roadie, bouncer, barkeep, dancer, cashier, kegmistress, mmmm... booze'n'blood..." her tongue lolled out of her mouth for a moment. "Yeah. I've done it all. 's how I keep it real."

"Wait... famous?" The grey mare pressed a hoof to her head, trying to pull out the memory that the pale mare's words had called up. It was a poster, plastered... on a brick wall. A poster for an orchestra event, with her name listed alongside many others. I was in an orchestra? When had her father allowed that? She was staring at the poster, smiling, then... a colt trotted up to the wall with two saddlebags, one full and one empty. He tore the orchestra poster down and plastered up three posters for some nightclub in its place. The orchestra poster went in the empty saddlebag, then he trotted down the sidewalk in search of the next.

Octavia bit her lip. On the poster was a picture of the pale mare, wearing only her purple shades and a feral grin. There were words beneath, but they were too scrambled to read. Some looked like numbers instead of letters.

"Yeah, famous!" The pale mare smirked in self-satisfaction. "But you didn't know that. When we first met, I was just another punk on a train."

The earth pony opened her eyes. "I don't... remember. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "I... I can't trust you." But the grey mare dearly wished to. "It would not be right."

"Sez who?"

Octavia scratched her head and looked up. "She is coming back for another attack."

"Right. Can you help me out here?" The pale mare pointed to her face with a hoof. "Kinda stings."

The grey mare leaned down and wrapped her fetlocks around the spike. It came out with surprising ease, slick with red vampire vitae. A sweet, strong scent reached out to the earth pony's nose, and she sniffed curiously. It was definitely coming from the vampire's blood. Then she felt her tongue stretching out toward that sweet red...

What am I doing? She jerked the spike away. That is disgusting! Octavia threw the spike on the ground and shivered. I... I am not one of them. I am a... a... She bit her lip, finding it hard to use the "J" word. An assassin.

The vampire rubbed her face. "Thanks! Ugh... eh, still, not so bad. I've had hangovers that were worse." She sat upright and growled, then pawed around on the ground. "Shades, shades... shades?" Her ears perked up. "Oh, no she didn't!" In her hooves were the shattered remains of her purple glasses. The imaginary world seemed to drain of all sound for a moment, save for that curious static of true silence. Then the pale mare's gaze swung to Octavia, her eyes glowing bright red.

"I did not-"

"I know." The unicorn in red said, then gently slipped her beloved eyewear into a pocket on her trenchcoat. "I know. But playtime's over." She stood upright, then her eyes dimmed and a hopeful expression crossed her face. "Hey... you don't remember me... but do you remember..." Her muzzle dipped into the depths of her trenchcoat, and returned with a strip of cloth. "Then... moo mu mat meast memember dis?"

Pink. Octavia swallowed hard. Dangling from the unicorn's mouth was, no doubt about it, a pink bow-tie. My pink bow-tie. She felt her pulse quicken, and gently touched her neck. That is what was missing. How could I have forgotten it? With a worried bite of her lip, she admitted to herself, I have forgotten a great many things. I need help.

But how could she trust this mare? Even though she had been kind, Trust was a Weakness. Trust was not what her Father would have wanted. Could she not make him proud in this one little thing? Could she not defeat this specter on her own?

No. No, I cannot. And Father is dead. Mother is dead. I am his legacy. She swallowed. No. I am... I am...

The vampire smiled happily around the silk cloth in her mouth, then produced a white cloth collar to match. It was the dressy sort of collar, worn by ponies at high class events, not the doggy sort. Despite the red glow of her eyes, when she held out those little accessories like a child offering a teddy bear to another, she seemed almost... cute.

I am... Octavia shut her eyes again. I am sorry, Father. She reached out, felt the silk against her hoof. I have to remember. I have to become what I was again. I am... I am not your legacy. The earth pony threaded the bow-tie through the collar with her eyes shut tight. Then she took a deep breath, and tied the bow. It came easily, so very easily, for she had tied her bow-tie uncountable times before.

Click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

When Octavia opened her eyes, the gravel railyard had fallen away. She knew this place, it was the inside of a small railcar, with benches down each side for passengers. Such railcars moved ponies through cities, not between them, and she remembered that they were called commuter rail. Well, perhaps she did not remember it so much as see it written on the ticket of the mare sitting next to her.

Octavia looked down at her own hooves and saw they were almost transparent, as though she were a ghost from a fairy tale. That did not hold her attention for long, though, since the mare sitting next to her was most curious. She was a young mare, neatly dressed and groomed, holding her instrument case tight as though it were the only thing she owned in the world. Her eyes looked heavy with sleep, but every time she started to nod off, she would jerk awake and stare suspiciously at the pony sitting across from her.

It was certainly an understandable sentiment, since the unicorn on the opposing bench was picking her teeth with a switchblade. She wore a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled so far over her face that she looked more like a cultist from an old horror movie than a citizen of Equestria.

However, that did not hold Octavia's interest for long either. Her eyes returned to the pony sitting next to her ghostly self on the bench, for she was also an earth pony with grey fur and a black mane. In fact, she was the spitting image of Octavia, right down to the bow-tie and cello case.
> Bastile (Part XIII): Aquarium - First Meeting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

The railcar was empty, save for the two of them. Few ever rode this late train, but the route was kept so that the rail company would have the engine in the right location to haul a far more profitable load of early-morning workers. Perhaps there were passengers in other cars, perhaps not. This was just a realm of memory anyway, drawn from the mind of the grey ghost who sat next to her younger self. A memory within an imagined world. Hmm, much like a repeat within a coda.

A deep chuckle came from the blue-hooded mare. She sniffed the air, then leaned toward the cellist sitting on the opposite bench. "You're a long, long way from the good side of town, my little pony."

Silence was the only response Octavia gave. She hugged her instrument case closer and avoided eye contact with the other mare, trying to appear as uninteresting as possible. She just wanted to get home and go to sleep, it had been a long, hard day.

As the railcar continued on, as oblivious to the drama of its passengers as a river was to the rafts that sailed down it, the mare in blue grew more curious. She ka-clicked open her switchblade and pointed it impishly. "You're neat."

Octavia looked up at the clock hanging at the rear of the traincar, then bit her lip.

"Y'see, I can usually smell fear." The mare's pale muzzle split into a grin. "And I don't smell any on you. But you don't look stupid enough to be one of those lilly-livered high society types who thinks she's too important for the world to let anything bad happen to her." Her switchblade clicked shut. "You know how to take care of yourself."

The cellist swallowed hard and kept her eyes on the floor. Perceptive of her.

"An' that's a good thing, y'know? A girl has to be able to look out for number one." The mare's tongue ran over her teeth. "Because what they say's true. This city'll eat a pony alive and suck the marrow out of her bones. Manehattan life's as fast as a shark."

Octavia nodded slowly, as though she understood whatever the strange mare was trying to say. In truth, she was quietly analyzing the owner of the dark blue hooded sweatshirt. Twitchy. Aggressive behavior. Seems to have a heightened sense of well being or confidence. The grey mare sighed. I am sitting across from a drug abuser. This was the last thing she needed. She just wanted to get home, go to sleep, wake up, and hunt for another gig. The cellist was not currently in an ensemble, but there were still plenty of freelance jobs available. Manehattan's high society lived on music as much as fine food and excellent wine.

The grey ghost bit her lip as she looked at her younger self. She remembered all too clearly how it felt to live that way, taking life one day at a time. It had been hard, but... fulfilling. That was the only reason she had been able to resist picking up her rifle and... well, selling her soul for life's luxuries. Octavia was her own mare, and the price of that freedom was eternal vigilance. If anything good had come of her Father's training, it was the assurance that she would not die by the knife of some mugger on a dark night.

"Ya kinda got a big case there for a fiddle, don't 'cha?"

Octavia's head jerked up in surprise.

A sly grin crossed the hooded mare's mouth. "There's a G-clef on your flank. Usually that's the notation for a violin. But you could stuff an artillery cannon into that case there." She prodded at a hunk of something red stuck next to an incisor with her switchblade. "So either you walk softly and play a big fiddle, or you're smuggling enough contraband to choke a minotaur."

"The treble clef is also used for the highest notes played on a cello or a double-bass," Octavia responded sharply, her eyes narrowing a little as she looked closer at the scruffy mare. "And I have no reason to fear the law."

A cold chuckle came from within the hood. "Relax, I ain't a narc. Just not used to seeing a real, live, cultured musician in this downzone. Shouldn't you be up top of an ivory tower or somethin'?"

With a hard glare, Octavia replied, "musicians live wherever they are able to find lodging." She already regretted getting into a conversation with the pale mare, but felt it might be safest to humor her. Manipulation is often preferable to confrontation for non-priority targets... It was better than accidentally falling asleep and waking to find herself robbed blind. "Why should they be any different than other ponies? For that matter, why are you not living at the top of an ivory tower?"

"I ask m'self that all the time," the blue-hooded mare nodded. "I need one of those. Oh, and I need a jetpack too." She rubbed her front hooves together. "Yeah... that'd be sweeeeeeet."

Octavia pressed a hoof to her face. Next to her, the grey ghost made the exact same gesture, except that she was smiling instead of groaning.

"Yeah, everypony thinks that. I'mma show 'em, though. Just you watch." Her switchblade clicked shut, and she licked a trace of red away from the corner of her mouth. "So, which is it?"

The earth pony blinked. "Is what?"

"Yer case. You have a cello in there, or a double-bass?"

"Oh." Octavia glanced to the side. "My cello."

"Shiny."

A moment of silence passed, seeming all the more quiet because of the railcar's click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click... 

"I... play the double bass as well, of course. I just... do not have one right now." In truth, she did not have much of anything. Instruments, fame, portable property... friends. Although she tried not to think about it, there were very few ponies who would even realize she was gone if she were to suddenly fall off the face of the world. Such was the pain of being a musician without renown; she was often regarded as less than a servant, more like a plumber who was regularly called upon.

There were some days she wondered if her primary source of income would be made obsolete by technology. Simply setting a needle on a record would never do for a high-class Manehattan dinner party, though. That was for the rabble. Live music was a luxury of the elite, and for so long as they needed that boost to their egos she would have gigs to play. Octavia yawned, then hugged her case tighter. I must not sleep.

"Did you, ah, drop it?" the hooded mare snickered.

"What?" Octavia asked, a hint of anger in her voice.

"The bass. Did you, hehe," she covered her mouth, "drop it?"

"No! I owned a double bass, but I had to sell it because of-" she bit her tongue, then took a deep breath. The objective was survival. This mare was a challenge, not a confidant. "Personal reasons."

The hooded mare grumbled, "way to kill a good punchline..."

Octavia turned away and looked out the window. Rain pattered against the glass. The pegasi had decided to water the concrete of the city at night for reasons beyond a musician's understanding. She swallowed hard. How strange she would seem to her ancestors. An earth pony who did not farm? Such a thing would be madness in the time of the three tribes. In their days, every earth pony farmed, grubbing in the dirt for food, and every pegasus spun the skies or fought. Only the unicorns, with their magic and mastery of the heavens, had time for luxury.

Only the master race. Masters of the heavens, masters of all. The grey ghost remembered her Father's words.

A shiver ran down the earth pony's spine, and she shifted the weight of her cello case. Those days are gone. It was for freedom that Celestia set us free. The railcar rattled onto a bridge, and she could glimpse the Statue of Liberty standing tall in the harbor. It was hard to see through the skyscrapers, but were not those towers of metal and glass almost as great of a testament to what ponies could create together in Harmony?

"Ulk," came from the hooded mare, and she slumped back in her seat as they neared the midpart of the great metal bridge. "Hurrk..."

Octavia tried to keep staring out the window, but... she could not. Her eyes turned to the pale pony wrapped in a blue hooded sweatshirt. The ghost reached out and touched her younger self on the shoulder. Despite all her Father had done, she still possessed... no, it was not some inner goodness. It was compassion. She knew right from wrong, knew how finite her own life was, and yet she still could not help but help those in need.

"Are you ill?"

The hooded mare looked up, her eyes still hidden. "Uh... nah." She plastered a smile across her muzzle. "Just... trains make my stomach upset. All the rattlin', y'know."

Octavia's ears perked slightly. The mare's voice was slightly strained, putting the lie to her dismissive words. Her earlier rush of enthusiasm seemed to be fading, the high of energy and confidence dwindling away into a void of listlessness. I should not say anything, but... "It will destroy you. That habit, I mean. It will poison everything you care about." She held her case close and rested her chin against it. "That is all they are. Poisons that rot your body and delude your mind."

"Uhhh?" the hooded mare cocked her head to the side. "Hades, I don't like it, but trains still beat walkin', y'know?"

"No. I mean the... the real reason you are feeling ill." The earth pony bit her lip. "I had a-a friend who... she let somepony talk her into using unregulated chems. To take the edge off." Octavia swallowed hard. "I do not know anything about you, but I know what happened to her. I was the one who found her body."

Silence filled the traincar for a few seconds. Then the train click-clack, clickity-clacked off the bridge and back onto the regular rails of wood and thin iron. The passenger with the pale muzzle perked up and threw a wide grin at the cellist. "That's cool of you to say, chummer, but I ain't on the drip." She rolled her front legs in little circles, then stretched her back. "Just get a lil' squeamish about rolling over bridges in a metal cage, y'know?"

A smile quirked across the grey ghost's muzzle. Chaos and Order. A vampire and a steel superstructure... What vampire, though? There was something teasing at the edge of her awareness, an identity forgotten...

"Oh." Octavia's cheeks slowly turned crimson. "I... I'm sorry, I just... you seemed... I thought..." Stupid, stupid, stupid. You must be far out of practice, to misread a target that badly! She swallowed hard, hoping that she would not fumble so badly when she was speaking with potential employers tomorrow. Her Father's training in smooth words was very helpful, and she tried not to think that she was proving him right every time she relied on it. 

Manipulation and Execution. These skills will be infinitely valuable to you. The grey ghost remembered that all too well.

"Nah, nah, that's cool." The mare waved a front leg, a pale hoof slipping out of her navy blue sleeve. "And hades, you're right. I've seen a guy, cute too, OD right on the dancefloor. Boom. Gone like a fuse." She shook her head. "Music's the only drug you should need."

"An overdose on the dancefloor?" Octavia gasped. "Good heavens, at what ball did that happen?"

"Uh..." The pale mare scratched her mane, and a few neon locks slipped out from under the hood. "Club Chrome was hosting the Derptronix concert. Things got kinda freaky."

The cellist blinked. "Oh. Oh. I see." She coughed.

"What?"

"Nothing, I... you said dancefloor, and I thought you meant a proper dancefloor. For ballroom dancing."

"Hades, they spun a new remix of Ballroom Blitz right there at the concert, I dunno how much more proper you can get than that!" protested the pale mare.

Octavia smiled innocently and forced her tongue to remain still. Survival is the goal. "Of course."

"Mmm." The pale mare snuggled back into her navy blue garment. "Oh, I know. Clubs are evil, grinding up all that's good and pure about music so it can be mixed with rock guitars and synths, then spat out on a turntable to defile the ears of the younglings..." She wiped a trace of drool from her mouth. "Huh? Oh. Right. But y'know, if you'd try it out, I think you might find it's not all that bad."

The cellist's ears flattened against her head. "I need my hearing for my work."

"What?" asked the pale mare as she cupped a hoof to an ear.

"My work. My music. I need to keep my hearing at-"

"Huh?" She leaned forward. "Oh, that's just an urban legend. Club music don't cause hearing loss!" Her hood shifted slightly, revealing her horn and a bit more of her cobalt and cyan mane. Then, with a smirk, she said, "next you're gonna tell me you believe in lycans an' vampires too!"

Octavia took a deep breath. "I believe that my music is my livelihood, and also the passion of my heart. I see no reason to endanger either just to hear the the noise forged in a club of the night." She adjusted her bow-tie. "The mind only has space for so much, after all."

The pale mare raised her nose in the air. "Huh. That's odd. You kinda... you smell spooked now."

Survival. Say nothing. Give nothing. Guard what is yours and disappear. The earth pony sighed, then swallowed hard. Against that instinct, she said, "I... I am. I am afraid." She looked down at the floor. "Afraid of vanishing without my life having any true meaning, or... no, not quite that." Octavia shuffled her hindhooves and balanced the cello case. "I am afraid of living without being able to touch the lives of others. That is... that is why I play, more than for money, I perform because it is my talent. The gift that was given to me, that I might give from it to the world. That is why I am afraid..." she bit her tongue then after a few seconds finished, "of living as a useless thing."

The pale mare leaned her head to the side, her eyes still hidden within her hood. "Frack... that's from the heart, I can tell. But... you think listening to a little of the wub-wub will do that to ya?"

"I know that music played at volumes that exceed the tolerances of a pony's eardrums-"

"Bullsnot," interrupted the pale mare.

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Fine. I do not like it. I have heard a little, and I do not like it. The fact that it may also be unhealthy only cinches the matter."

A smile slowly crept across the unicorn's muzzle. "I do not like green eggs and jam, I do not like 'em, Sam-I-Am."

"What on Earth does that mean?"

"Story my mom used to read me." She settled back in the seat and wiggled her nose. "You're a musician. A real one, the classy kind. Most of 'em are snobs, but you aren't." The pale mare adjusted her hood. "There are musicians here, too. In the downzones, the urban sprawl, the gritty city. And there's a different kind of music down here. It's hard and raw, but it still kicks you up and keeps you going. You're used to the music they have up top, even though you live down here. Have you ever talked to a rock star, or an electrorhythm savant?"

I am still convinced half the words that come out of that mare's mouth are invented by her on the spot, thought the grey ghost with a smile.

Octavia the younger shook her head slowly. "N-no. I just... I have so much to think about already."

"Don't we all." The pale mare yawned, then rested her head on a front hoof. The movement pulled back her hood, revealing her magenta eyes to the grey mare for the first time. "So, you're not afraid of a girl with a switchblade, but you are afraid of sensory overload. Heh. Cool."

With a sigh, the other passenger turned away.

Click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

Octavia had been staring out the window for several long moments, just listening to the sound of the train. Then, too softly for any mortal to hear, she whispered, "the high notes. That was how it all began, the high notes with the rubber bands wrapped around the drawers. I do play treble... Not what he wanted, too small, but I do play... the violin." A moment of rain pattering against the windowpane passed, then...

"But you don't have one right now." The pale mare's voice made Octavia start. She turned to look with wide mulberry eyes at the other passenger. The unicorn smiled, then continued, "because of personal reasons."

"How could you..." asked the cellist in wonder.

"Hey, maybe my ears ain't as bad as all that." Her magenta eyes twinkled, seeming just a touch redder for one instant. "Maybe I was readin' your lips in the windowpane." She shrugged. "You're an interesting mare, Miss Cello-case."

Octavia looked down at the floor. "And you... are a very interesting musician yourself, Miss Blue-hood."

"Yeah." The mare's eyes sparked with red again, just enough for somepony to think it was a trick of the light. "How'd you know I was a musician? Did my stunning intellect give me away again?"

"You have a passing familiarity with musical notation," the mare with the G-clef for a cutie mark replied, her tone dry. "And seemed particularly defensive of rock musicians. Are you one? A rock-and-roll performer?"

"Sometimes," replied Miss Blue-hood. "But most nights, I'm just a DJ." She hesitated for a moment, then shook off her hood. "I'm pretty good, if I do say so m'self. How about you?"

Octavia blushed. "I... well, I am... that is to say..."

"You must be. Anypony who cares as much about music as you do has to be good." The pale mare yawned. "I mean, you don't get good at an art form without a metric butt-ton of hard work, and judging from the way you're struggling to keep your eyes open, you're no stranger to that."

The earth pony blushed. "You do me too much honor."

A smirk appeared on the DJ's face. "Meh." She reached into her sweatshirt and pulled out a pair of purple shades. "I'm usually pretty good at reading a crowd, when I'm paying attention." The pale mare slipped the shades over her face. "It's how I became who I am today."

Octavia nodded politely. "Do you own your own club?"

The DJ pulled her shades down slightly and stared at the grey mare. "Uh... No."

"Oh." The cellist smiled kindly, then asked, "your own band, then?"

"You..." the unicorn leaned her head to the side. "You don't know who... ahhh." She clapped her front hooves together and snickered. "Well, if that ain't a kick in the ego."

"I am... sorry?" Octavia blinked, not quite understanding what the blue-maned mare in the purple shades meant. "Have we met before, somewhere? I am afraid I do not remember..."

"Nah, nah." The DJ smiled wide. "Hades, I'm nopony." She chuckled kindly. "Chee, and it's good to be nopony sometimes, y'know? And who are you?"

An answering grin appeared on Octavia's face. "Well, I rather think I am nopony too."

"Then there's a pair of us," continued the pale mare. "Don't tell!"

"They would banish us, you know." Miss Cello-case grinned. "How dreary to be somepony."

"How public, like a frog," Miss Blue-hood croaked. "To tell your name the livelong day to an admiring bog!"

"I would not have thought you to be a mare well-versed in poetry." Octavia arched an eyebrow.

"Hey, if you gotta sing, might as well sing something decent. Only way you get something decent is by learning from good stuff others have done."

The grey ghost rolled her eyes. Says the mare who blasts "Disregard the Constabulary" at maximum volume whenever we get into a vehicular chase with agents of the law...

"True enough, Miss Blue-hood," laughed the earth pony as the train hisssed to a stop at her station. "It has been nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too, Miss Cello-case." The DJ nodded in farewell as the grey mare stood up. "Nice meeting you... too."

The grey ghost smiled, the warmth of that moment once more filling her senses. Then she closed her eyes for just an instant, and when she opened them, she found the moment had changed once again. Octavia was still inside the train, still a half-transparent apparition who seemed to go unnoticed by everypony, but her younger self was once more seated on the bench. There was no rain outside, and the moon was high in the clear night sky.

This time the grey ghost did not stare at her younger self, but turned her full attention to the perky DJ on the opposing bench. Octavia knew what she was, remembered the vampire from flashes of combat and moments of peace, but who... the final piece of the puzzle, still evaded her. Her thoughts were murky, and though she had finally accepted that she was in a dream within a dream, it was hard to suppress the panic of never truly knowing if she would escape.

The sniper took a deep breath. One step at a time. Father and mother. Who I was. My bow-tie. Who I became. She emptied her lungs slowly. And now... this pale mare. Who I want to become. After that, she would be ready.
> Bastile (Part XIV): Aquarium - Second Meeting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

Her younger self was once again seated on the bench, hugging her cello case tight and staring at the mare in the blue hood. This time, though, she was biting back a smile as the other passenger recounted one of her club performances. The DJ was picking her teeth with a switchblade, just as before, but she was snuggled back into her garment rather than trying to intimidate the cellist.

"...so I threw him out on his ear. Doesn't matter how good the show is, jumping up on the stage while I'm midway through a set and trying to propose gettin' hitched ain't gonna fly." She snickered. "I mean, he was cute and all, and I know I'm amazing, but c'mon! Think before ya act!"

The grey ghost pressed a hoof into her face. As if you ever put more than a moment's thought into the hair-brained schemes you somehow coax me into...

Octavia leaned her head back against the window and giggled. "I must say, Miss Blue-hood, I have never had a colt offer me his hoof in matrimony because of my musical skill." Her heart sank a little at that, but only a very little.

"Yeah, 'sright? Sheesh." The DJ licked her teeth. "You have a really nice laugh, anypony ever tell you that? It's all kinds of elegant."

The cellist blinked, then leaned her head to the side. "Are you... trying to..."

But the pale mare was paying no attention. She rummaged around in her navy blue hooded sweatshirt, then somehow managed to produce a boom microphone from its depths. "Aha! Here," her horn glowed, and a curious device with two reels of magnetic tape levitated out of her garment as well. "Just wire this to this... and unh..." she tightened a screw with her switchblade, then used the knife to clear a jam in another part of the contraption. "Sha-zam!"

"What on Earth is that?" asked Octavia. "It looks like a bomb!"

"Nah, nah, this ain't a bomb. Back home, I have this huge one that might be a bomb... dunno, depends on if I miswired something." She blinked. "Right! Anyway," the unicorn's horn glowed, and she waved the boom microphone in Octavia's face. "I demand your laughter!"

The earth pony leaned her head away from the microphone. "Wh... why?"

"Why?" repeated the DJ. "For science, you monster!" She giggled. "Nah, nah, I'm gonna mix it into one of my songs. It'll sound great."

"You can do that? Just take any sound and... meld it into your music?" She hugged her cello case tight, thinking of its natural wood and rich tone. It was an instrument of creation, unlike this DJ's tools of duplication.

"Sure! I mean, not everything sounds good, but yeah. Any sound I can capture..." she patted the mechanical gizmo at her side, whose reels had begun to slowly spin in a rather ominous fashion. "I can bend to my will. Because I'm awesome."

Octavia looked down. "Hmm..." Her eyes drifted up. "What is it worth to you?"

The DJ raised an eyebrow. "Uh..." She rummaged in her hoodie. "I've got about three-fifty or so-"

"No. No, not money." Though she could certainly use it, that was not what she wanted. "What is the sound of my laughter worth to you?"

A moment passed while the pale mare squinted up at the ceiling and muttered under her breath. Then... "Okay, I can get you a VIP pass to the next Pegboard Cats show at-"

The grey mare coughed.

"A brand-new pair of headphones! I know a gal who-"

The grey mare coughed again. Next to her, the ghostly version of the earth pony giggled.

"What, you want the hoodie off my back, Miss Cello-case?" the unicorn started to tug at the navy-blue garment until the earth pony raised a hoof.

"No, Miss Blue-hood." The cellist shifted the weight of her case, then winked.

"Then what?"

 "A name, perhaps?" The grey mare smiled. "And I shall throw in mine free of charge."

The DJ made a curious hissing sound, as though suddenly venting all the air in her lungs and forgetting that she needed to breathe in more, then glanced away. "Heeeeeh... Huum..." She looked back at the grey mare and her mouth moved, but no sound came. Abruptly she seemed to remember that she needed air to speak, and took aboard a mighty cargo of it. "I don't... know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? Are you wanted by the law?"

"Nah, nah... not right now anyway," she hurried onward before the grey mare could press that point. "I just... you might not... you promise not to freak out or anything?"

The grey mare nodded. "I promise." Next to her, the grey ghost rolled her eyes in wonderment that she had ever been so naive about trusting the vampire. And yet the older Octavia still leaned forward to listen closely, for she felt that last piece of understanding tickling at the base of her skull. 

With a cough, the pale mare lowered the boom microphone. "It's..." As she looked at the floor, her head tilted low enough that the cellist could see her eyes over the rims of her purple shades. "I'm..."

"Vinyl," whispered the grey ghost, just as the DJ's mouth formed the words. "Vinyl Scratch." 

"I'm Vinyl Scratch." The unicorn rubbed her front hooves together. "The Vinyl Scratch."

"And I," replied the cellist without missing a beat, "am Octavia." She smiled. "Your name is rather brash, but... I don't understand. Why were you afraid to tell it?"

"Because I... you..." She blinked, and then a small smile slowly spread across her muzzle. "I guess I got a reputation in certain circles... and it hurts as much as it helps."

A nasty reputation indeed, thought the grey ghost. Rich. Absurdly so, and talented enough in her trade to be the toast of any club she set hoof into. Famous, within the social circles of neon and night. She closed her eyes again, feeling as though there was a firestorm trapped inside her skull. It was a good pain.

"I have honestly never heard of you," Octavia said. 

"And..." the pale mare smirked. "That's... nice. Bit of a kick in the ego, but nice. What about you? Do you have ponies judging you because of your rep too?"

The cellist ran a hoof through her mane as she tried to make sense of the DJ's words. Next to her, the ghost of herself had her hooves over her eyes and was moaning in pain.

Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch. A name. A face, a smile, a stranger in the night. Days, weeks, months, each one locked into her memory not because of meeting the pale mare on the train, but by the music she had played before taking the commuter rail home. Home. Rats, roaches, rot and a thin layer of padding atop a concrete floor.

"No... I truly am nopony," the cellist said quietly.

"Everypony's somepony," replied the DJ. "You're just not the somepony you want to be right now."

Not home. The ghost pulled her hooves from her eyes and stared into the unicorn's purple shades. A fire crackled in the lenses as if they were mirrors reflecting a lit hearth. Above the clouds, safe, warm... Where I could play, where I could fall asleep on the rug and feel... clean. Sanctuary. That was what this pale mare represented. Sanctuary. Octavia whispered softly, "Vinyl Scratch."

"Hey, cellist."

The grey ghost's head twitched to the side, searching for the source of the voice, and found a second pale mare on the opposite bench. This one had the same purple shades, but she wore a red hat and trenchcoat rather than a blue hooded sweatshirt. Most curiously of all she seemed to be just as transparent as the earth pony.

The pale ghost smiled wide, displaying a pair of long fangs, and put a front leg around the shoulders of her younger self, who seemed not to notice the monster at her side. Octavia stared in shock until finally instinct compelled her to blink. Before she could thwart the urge, her eyes were shut and back open again, but the mare in red was nowhere to be found.

The cellist stood and searched all around the traincar, but that pale ghost had well and truly vanished. Octavia bit her lip. "Vinyl?" she whispered, hoping to summon her again. "Vinyl Scratch?"

Nothing. She is... just a figment too. I am alone. The earth pony set her jaw. But I know who I am.

"Heh," the Vinyl wearing the blue sweatshirt chuckled at something Octavia's younger self had said. "I was right. You're neat. You know how to take care of yourself."

I do know how to take care of myself. I was trained by the best. By my Father, and... and... Something else, something out the window. The ghost pressed her nose against the glass and saw a large billboard, advertising a new kind of chocolate bar by the Bon Hadescream Corporation.

Octavia felt her lips moving as she remembered words that had been given to her by another. "The Corporation exists to fund the Organization, and the Organization exists to preserve the society that patronizes the Corporation. This is as ordained by The Charter, and by its words we carry on the creed of the ancient ones. You belong to the Organization now, Miss Octavia."

The cellist felt a strange need to adjust her business suit, but she was not wearing one. Whoever had told her these things had worn one, a suit neatly cut like those her Father had preferred, but the mare who had given those words wore it differently. She wore that suit to give joy, not to steal it. Her teachings were about liberty, and honor, and... and candy. Octavia scratched her head at that memory. Candy? I work for a candy company? As strange as it was, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

"I guess it's a good thing I didn't shank you when we first met, eh?" asked the unicorn with a smile. The sheer insolence of the words drew Octavia's attention back to the figment of her memory.

The grey mare sitting on the bench felt a smile blossoming across her face, and laughter bubbling up from her barrel. "Yes, yes I rather think it fortunate that you did not." Octavia smiled. "Because then I would have had to bludgeon you with my case."

That pushed the pale mare into a fit of laughter as well, and the two of them continued until the train hisssed to a stop at a station. Vinyl sighed, then packed away her recording gear. The grey ghost watched the unicorn walk to the door, then took a deep breath. I have to take control. This is my mind. I am able to take care of myself. She rolled her shoulders and adjusted her bow-tie. But... I do so wish I had a friend here.

See you again, Octavia?" asked the pale unicorn with a hopeful smile.

"Most certainly, Vinyl Scratch," the earth pony replied with a polite wave of her hoof.

I need to get out of this illusion. The grey ghost bit her lip. Somehow she knew that Vinyl was waiting for her back in the real world, counting on her to succeed. There was something else too, something... she glanced back out the window again and saw another advertisement for candy bars. A... contract? No. Contracts are for Jägers. A mission. Something honorable, something worthy. Yes. She would escape this mental prison and complete her mission. The grey ghost sat down on the traincar next to her younger self. She was Octavia.

The unicorn in the blue sweatshirt shoved open the train door and came nose-to-nose with another of her breed, whose eyes glowed pure white. Vinyl raised an eyebrow. "Yo!"

"I'm going to rend you limb from limb!" roared the other unicorn as she tackled the pale mare and slammed her head against the floor until the surprised DJ lay still. Then her glowing eyes swung toward the grey ghost, and a wicked cackle began to bubble from her throat. The world slowly faded to black and white, all color seeming to ooze out the windows. Scoffing Song slowly stood up and crept toward the earth pony, giggling all the way.
> Bastile (Part XV): Aquarium - Smackdown
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia glanced at her younger self, and saw that the figment was still as a statue. The purple of her eyes had vanished, and the pink of her bow was gone as well. The ghost stepped toward the other end of the car and swallowed hard.

"No running. No hiding. Searching," the cult leader yowled. Her left eye twitched. "Coming from the clouds! I have no time for this, the True Power calls to me from within the earth, and I must heed!" Her right eye twitched. "Should have all the time in the world, but I don't! Your mind is so stupid, mudpony! It's fighting me at every turn, hiding secrets, kicking back." She reared up and roared, "do you not know how to simply die?"

The grey mare pondered that as she backed away, carefully giving ground while remaining aware of her surroundings. "No. No, I... I was taught many things. But I do not think I was ever taught how to die." A smile cracked across her muzzle. "In fact, I believe that is the one thing I have refuted for my entire life."

"Then bite off your tongue and call me the Great Teacher," hissed Scoffing Song. Her fur began to glow as she once more took on her full spectral appearance. Behind her lay the frozen body of the Vinyl-figment. "I am in absolute control!"

"That is what drives you, is it not? Control." The grey mare felt a sense of calm flowing over her. A war of words. I can fight that battle. I have done so before, many times. "You long for it, simply for its own sake." She realized that this invader was stronger than her, even within her own mind. The cult leader was experienced in such wars of thought, and Octavia was not. Escape was her best option... or was it?

"Everypony wants power, little mudmare." She smiled wide and took another step. "I'm just honest about it. Too bad you didn't kneel. I could have used somepony with your talents."

"I am sorry, but I am rather too malnourished to make a good sacrifice." She fiddled with her bow-tie in what seemed a nervous gesture, but the cellist was actually very calm. She had finally remembered a momentous occasion. "And I already serve another master."

The specter giggled. "And where is that master now? What protection does she extend to you that can stay my hoof?"

Octavia shrugged. "She is off in a castle somewhere, probably filing paperwork and wishing desperately that she could shoot something. But it is still right to oppose you, for you seek to bring evil upon the world." The grey mare reached out with a hindhoof and felt the door of the railcar behind her. It led to the next car on the train. She started to feel for the handle, then set her hindleg back on the floor and touched her bow-tie again.

"So, nothing." Scoffing Song laughed. "Your master offers you nothing but death."

"I have died once already," retorted the sniper. "I do not regret what I chose to stand for." She took a deep breath. "Luckily, I have a friend who is both wise enough to agree with me, and malevolent enough to defeat you."

"Aww, Octy. You're just layin' it on with a trowel, ain't ya?"

Scoffing Song spun around and stared in disbelief. Standing above the frozen figment of Vinyl was a semi-transparent version of the pale mare, clad in a red hat and trenchcoat. They were the only color in the entire traincar, and the contrast caused them to seem as though they were positively oozing crimson. She reached down, plucked the shades from the face of her younger self, and slipped them on. Then she turned to admire her reflection in the glass window as the lenses turned purple once more. "Dang. I'm lookin' good."

The specter scowled, then held up a hoof. "You again? Halt! I command you with absolute authority, halt!"

Vinyl yawned, then took a step toward the cult leader.

"Halt!" roared Scoffing Song.

"Oh, fine then." The vampire paused with a hoof in the air, then smiled lazily. "Hey, cellist."

"Hello, Vinyl." The Asset touched her pink bow-tie. I belong to the Organization, and so does she.

"You remembered! I knew ya would!" She licked her lips. "Nopony forgets Vinyl Scratch for long."

"No, no, no!" Scoffing Song stamped her hoof, and her horn began to glow. "Halt!"

"Mmmm..." Vinyl rolled her eyes. "Octy?"

The earth pony smiled with just a hint of cruelty. "Green light."

As the cult leader screamed again, the vampire bounded forward, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, and slammed her face into a window hard enough to crack the glass. Color began to seep back into the traincar. "Look, girlie. The nice cellist wants you to leave. You don't wanna bother her, get me?"

"Halt! You have to bend to my will, I am in absolute-"

Vinyl slammed the specter into another window, and more color began to trickle in through those cracks. "Wrong answer." She sighed. "No respect for private property these days, am I right?" The pale mare rolled her shoulders, stretched her forelegs, and then hurled the cult leader straight through a windowpane. Then she fell to her hind knees, threw her front legs up, and howled, "defenestration!"

Octavia walked to her crazy friend and threw a hug around her neck. "Thank you, Vinyl." The grey mare did not question how exactly Vinyl had come here. She needed her, had called out to her, and the pale mare had appeared. Was that not what friends did for one another?

"No problem, Octy." She pointed toward the door. "Now let's go finish the job, eh?" An evil sort of lightning crackled behind her purple shades.

The two mares stepped out onto the train platform, and found themselves back in the railyard. Scoffing Song lay on the gravel, surrounded by sparks that flickered from her glowing horn. "You! You have the stupidest mind I have ever seen! Your memories are wretched and uncontrollable, I don't know how you stay sane!" She pulled herself upright and pointed at Vinyl. "Any memory that strong should be damaging to your mental state, you should be a schizophrenic basket case in a rubber room, barely able to feed yourself!"

Octavia shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do say so!" The cult leader stood. "I have ravaged many minds, but yours is... yours is... wait." She glared at the pale mare, who had pulled her hat down further to keep the sun off. "You. You're... you're not a memory at all, you're... you're an alternate personality!" Scoffing Song cackled. "Isn't that just fine! Little mudpony couldn't handle that she was born without a horn, so she imagined herself a friend to make it all better! Aww, poor mudpony."

"Eh." Vinyl yawned.

The grey mare took a deep breath, then smiled. "I do not care. You were right about one thing. Enough time has been wasted here. I have a mission to complete."

"Then come and fight me," Scoffing Song taunted. "Don't hide behind your little delusion any longer. There never was any vampire unicorn, you made her up to make yourself feel better, my little mudpony." She smiled wide. "Come and fight me yourself, or you'll have to live with the knowledge that you're just a cowardly little earth mare forever."

Octavia bit her lip, then looked up toward the sun. What am I? Am I a Jäger? Am I an assassin? Am I a cowardly little earth pony?

Next to her, Vinyl yawned again. "Bugger all, it's bright out." She wrapped a front leg around Octavia's neck and snuggled against her.

What am I? She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them when she heard the wind whistling through the railyard.

"You belong to the Organization now, Miss Octavia."

The grey mare smiled. I am an Asset.

"So, how about it? Are you a coward, forever?"

"No," replied Octavia. "I am a mare with a mission. A mission to complete by any means necessary." She looked down at the vampire. "Vinyl?"

"Huh?" the pale mare straightened up and shook her head. "What? I wasn't sleeping," she yawned. "I was just resting my eyes."

"Throw her out, please."

A wide grin stretched across the pale mare's muzzle. "Thought you'd never ask!" She turned toward the specter and flexed her front legs. "It's clobberin' time!"

"No!" shouted the cult leader. "You can't, you-"

"I," Octavia cut her off firmly, "have nothing to prove. Nothing to repent of. Nothing but the mission. And I will use any means at my disposal to complete it."

"That's me, the garbage disposal." Vinyl bounded forward. "Listen up, poser! If you hurt my friends, then you hurt my pride! I gotta be a mare, I can't let it slide!" She lept toward the glowing specter and wrestled her to the ground. Scoffing Song fought desperately, her horn glowing as she levitated herself and the vampire into the air before slamming the pale mare down into the gravel, but Vinyl quickly bounced back up and put her in a headlock. After that, the fight intensified into a battle of magic and muscle that kicked up a cloud of dirt from the old railyard, obscuring the melee from the cellist's view.

Even weakened by the sun, it was only a matter of minutes before Vinyl had thrashed the cult leader. When the dust settled, she picked the broken specter up with both fetlocks and held her over her head in triumph. "Huuurrggh!"

Octavia applauded. She knew that was what the egotistical vampire wanted, and Vinyl had certainly earned it. "Bravo, bravo, encore!" Perhaps that was not what one was supposed to say at a wrestling match, she did not know.

The vampire grinned, then tossed Scoffing Song a few meters away and produced an old ribbon velocity microphone from inside her red trenchcoat. "Hey, glow-eyes, I figured out what's wrong with your little halt command!" She flexed her front legs and tossed back her trenchcoat like a cape. "It doesn't work on somepony made of pure awesom-winium."

"Really, Vinyl, that's a bit much..." muttered the grey mare.

Scoffing Song struggled upright, then gaped at the vampire. "What... what are you?" Her horn began to glow as she charged up a last-ditch assault.

"I'm Vinyl Wubbing Scratch. The DJ-P0N3."

A meep came from the cult leader, and her eyes almost bugged out of her head. "N-no, impossible!" The terror of recognition bleached her face. "You... you can't be here! Not now, it's too soon, too close to-"

"Can and am," shouted the pale mare, her voice amplified and overdriven by the mic. "And I'm gonna show you how it's done!" She took a deep breath and held the microphone close to her muzzle. Then, as sparks began to flicker from her horn and an eerie hum filled the air, she whispered, "halt. Hippotime."

Octavia leaned her head to the side, thinking that she had misheard the vampire, then saw that cargo crane swing high above their heads. Something fell from it, something huge, grey, and four-legged. Scoffing Song looked up, gasped for breath, then tried to crawl away. The sound of her terrified scream echoed through all of Octavia's mind, then with a bone-rattling Ploomph! the railyard fell silent.

A massive grey mammal lay on the concrete, its mountainous belly and back completely eclipsing where the cult leader had been thrown. The droopy face and smooth features made the creature seem docile and cute... until it opened its mouth wide to roar, exposing tusk like teeth as long as the cellist's front legs.

Vinyl slowly sank back down to all four hooves and smirked. "Awww yeah. Can't touch this!" She danced to the side, then spun about and smiled at Octavia. "Wub-a-scrub-dub, Octy. Makin' the world a better place."

The earth pony nodded slowly. "We speak for the lost. Those who can never smile again, we give rest." The grey mare took strength from the words, glad that she could once more remember them clearly. The fog seemed to have lifted from her mind. "We cheer the innocent. We act for the victims. We who have won life's lottery will answer, not in guilt but acceptance of our duty, for those too weak to cry out. We find profit in Harmony, and liability in Discord. If the world will be shaped only by strength, it will be shaped with ours."

"Because we are the monster-killin', candy-hawkin', heroes-after-sunset Bon Hadescream Organization." Vinyl Scratch smirked. "I'm glad I let you talk me into this, Octy. It's been fun so far."

Octavia nodded, then sat down and shut her eyes. "Thank you, Vinyl. And now... I must return to my mission." She waited a moment for some... some ethereal tug that would signal her return to reality, but none came. The earth pony swallowed, then tried to will the illusion away. Scoffing Song was gone, the grey mare was once more in command of her own thoughts... right? She opened her eyes, and found the DJ sitting a half-meter away with a goofy grin on her muzzle and her front hooves over her face.

"V... Vinyl?" Octavia asked uncertainly. "What are you doing?"

"I dunno. Your eyes were shut. Aren't we playing peekaboo?"
> Bastile (Part XVI): Aquarium - Home in your Head
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia groaned and rubbed the side of her head. "No, Vinyl. We are not playing peekaboo."

"Awww..." the pale mare dropped her hooves from her face. "What are we playing, then?"

"We are not playing anything at all! I need to get out of here, I have a mission to complete!"

"What mission?" the vampire asked impetuously.

The grey mare paused. "I... have to..." She pondered for a moment more, then looked over at the hippopotamus. "I have to kill Daughter Scoffing Song. I... have to use her death to break the morale of the other cultists." She took a deep breath, then blinked in surprise as something occurred to her. "Wait, Vinyl... is she dead?" Octavia pointed to the mound of grey blubber. "Is she truly dead, in the real world as well?"

"Nah, that was just an astral projection of her." The unicorn reached forward and tapped the side of the earth pony's head. "But I kicked her as-tral right out'a here!"

"Then... why am I still in this place?" Octavia's eyes widened. "I... I am not trapped here forever, am I? She... she could not curse me with such a fate... could she?"

"That's not how it goes in the movies," Vinyl replied, tilting down her shades and rolling her eyes. "Sheeesh, Octy. You know how it works, the hero whups the villain and goes riding off into the sunset, or she snaps out of the trance in time to save the cute male supporting character." Her eyes simmered to a brighter shade of red. "Movies never deal with dreck like the trauma that can be caused by having somepony else worm into your psyche and fight a war inside your head."

The grey mare felt a chill run down her spine. She nervously tapped her front hooves together. "Ah..."

Vinyl leaned forward, her eyes still locked with Octavia's. "In the movies, it all fades away once the big bad's been beat."

Octavia swallowed hard. "V-Vinyl, is this like a movie?"

"Do you want it to be?" 

"Yes!" replied the cellist almost before she could think. The implications Vinyl was making would drive her truly mad if she contemplated them for too long. It was, after all, rather close to her greatest fear, of living life as a useless thing.

"Okie then." The vampire leaned back on her haunches. "You should wake up as soon as this is all over. Might be a lil' stiff, brain reconnecting to the muscles and all that, but you'll be fine." A broad, fang-showing smile spread across her face. "Heh. Did you know that most of those alien abduction stories where ponies talk about waking up paralyzed by some kinda gizmo can be explained by-"

"Vinyl," the cellist said gently. "I need to return to reality, not remember." She took another deep breath, steadying herself, finding her calm center... then she saw the unicorn's hurt expression. "You are not... this is not..." Octavia reached out and touched the pale mare, making sure she was solid. "You are not a figment of memory, are you?"

"I'm me, Octy."

The sniper gasped, then put another hoof on the vampire and shook her gently. "Heavens above, you... you are!" She bit her lip. "You are not like my Father or that other figment of yourself... you are like... like her." Octavia nodded toward the hippo, who had settled down for a nap. It was adorable, save when its mouth opened wide in a mighty snorrrre. "But how? How can you be here? You are still in a barrel... right?" The cellist gasped. "I... I have not been unconscious long enough for you to recover, have I?"

Vinyl Scratch shrugged and shook her head. "Octy. I'm Chaos. I need reasons I can't do things, not reasons for why I can." She reached out and touched the grey mare's nose with a hoof. "And I dunno about where I am out there, because I'm the part of me that's in you. Just like there's a little bit of you in me, I'm that little bit of blood-chuggin', record-spinnin', party girl that's always with you."

"Ever since the night I died," Octavia whispered, a slight tremble of terror in her voice. "I... Vinyl... you saved me... and I am grateful..." she swallowed hard, "but how much control do you have? Am I... have I been living a lie, thinking that I am free when I truly am your puppet?"

The vampire adjusted her hat, then rolled her eyes again. She wrapped her front legs around the cellist and smiled into her black mane. "No, silly."

The cellist blinked back tears. "Y-you... promise?"

"Uh-huh. I like you for you, Octy. Mom used to give me lectures on how horrible a world filled with yes-mares is, but I didn't understand it until I got neck-deep into the club scene. That's how I figured out that competition is what makes awesome stuff happen. You got two clubs fighting for the same customers, that's what forces them to try and upstage each other." Vinyl grinned. "That's part of why I like you, Octy. You're competition. And you aren't afraid to tell me where to shove it."

"And so you keep me alive, because I am valuable to you." Octavia bit her lip and shut her eyes.

"I stick up for you because you're my friend, Octy. That's what friends do, right?"

"Y... yes." The cellist swallowed hard, feeling ashamed of herself. "I am sorry, Vinyl. You really are the truest friend I have. I just..."

"You're shellshocked. Anypony would be. But it's okay. I'm here. I own your soul, remember?" She chuckled. "Just think of this as a house call, covered under the extended maintenance contract." The pale mare rubbed her friend's back. "Y'know what you need?"

"A glass of warm milk and eight hours of sleep?"

"Psssh, nah. Videogames!"

"Video... games?" Octavia opened her eyes to protest, but the sound died in her throat. The railyard was gone. The sun was nowhere to be seen, in its place flickered a giant cinema screen. The projector sat next to them, a curious contraption that seemed to be made of wires and crystals with the odd gear thrown in for good measure.

"Yeah!" Vinyl grinned, letting go of her friend and hoisting herself into a large plush recliner on the other side of the projector. "What do you think I do all day in here while you're out saving the world and being awesome?" The pale mare levitated the controller into her hooves. "You've got some great games here, too! I'm almost through that one in the green case, pick it up, willya?"

The earth pony leaned down and picked up a crystal rectangle with shiny gold conductors on its base. It was a vibrant emerald color, with a label that read Virtua Sniper XIII. That alone was disturbing to the grey mare, but she began to whimper softly when she realized that there was a picture of herself carrying a long rifle on the cartridge as well.

"That's the one!" Vinyl chirped, and lifted it from Octavia's hooves with a pulse of her horn. She slotted it into the projector and kicked the strange machine into life. "But yeah, this is what I do most of the time while you're asleep. I try to catch my z's while you're awake, since it's a little weird to have somepony muttering in your head. Hey, I've got a second controller around here somewhere..."

"Vinyl... why are you rooting through my memories?" The grey mare took a very deep breath. "My old... the things I did for my Father, I put that all behind me." A hot blush colored her cheeks, and she set her front hooves on the recliner's arm so she could glare down at the vampire. "And this is a blatant invasion of my privacy. I... Vinyl, I am hurt."

The pale mare pulled her purple shades off and looked down at her belly. "Um... I'm sorry?"

Octavia bowed her head.

"Octy, I wasn't digging up that old stuff." She pointed at the screen. "This is all new stuff. From ever since you joined the candy-cane-killers-club. See?"

The cellist turned to look at the cinema screen. On it was a frozen image of herself, just about to pull the trigger on a charging lycan before it could rip an Operative to shreds. The grey mare bit her lip. "I... Vinyl, these are still my memories."

"Well of course they are. I already know how to beat all the fights I've scraped through, yours are a whole new challenge!"

Octavia slumped down against the chair, finding suddenly that she did not have the energy for all this. It was too much to expect from anypony... defeating a witch who had invaded your mind only to discover that your best friend had turned your memory into her personal digital entertainment system! She groaned softly.

"Nah, I'm serious. I'm stuck on this one level where you have to shoot two guys at once, and I always miss the second one. How'd you pull it off?"

"If I... tell you," began the cellist in a tone that shifted from exhaustion to indignation, "will you promise to stop rampaging through my private moments like a-a DJ through a record collection?" 

The pale mare's ears drooped. "Octy, I'm just trying to learn more about you. I only play the ones the rental store lets me get, anyway."

Octavia blinked. "Rental store? There is a boutique renting out my memories on crystal cartridges to clientele living inside my head?" She giggled, and felt her left fetlock twitch. Mad. All of this is mad. But it is Vinyl... I am accustomed to her vintage of madness!

"Eh, it's more like a soda machine. You put a bit in, hit a button, sparks pop and gears whirr, out drops a cartridge. After the rental's up, the cartridge self-destructs, which is awesome." She tossed her hat up in the air and caught it, presumably to emphasise the coolness of the explosions.

"I... see." The cellist took a deep breath. "Vinyl... there are things I do not want to remember. Things that I have done."

"I know, Octy." The DJ nodded slowly to show she understood. "But there's stuff about you I'm super-interested in." She held up her front hooves like a sorrowful puppy, and let her lower lip tremble. As usual, her red eyes negated any innocence she might have been able to express. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not any further than I can throw you." The cellist squeezed her eyes shut, then took a deep breath. "Which... thanks to you saving my life... is actually quite far." She rested her chin on the arm of the recliner, then rolled her eyes to look at the vampire. "Vinyl. I don't... I can't..." The grey mare cleared her throat. "Am I truly free? With you always looking over my shoulder, treating my memories like a game, and... and... heaven only knows what else you're doing. Why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

"Because you've always known, Octy." Vinyl reached out and ran a hoof through her friend's mane. "Ever since that night at the Concertorium. Every time you're near me, the real me, you've felt it. Maybe you didn't want to admit it, but you knew there was a little wub-wub in the back of your own head. I'm the hum, I'm the shockwave, I'm the mare-without-compare." She adjusted her trenchcoat and smiled confidently.

The cellist felt tears coming to her eyes, and a horrid sense of betrayal coming to her heart. "B-but... Vinyl... I thought you were different than all those other monsters. I thought you... you cared about me."

"I do care, Octy." The pale mare sat upright and put a cold hoof over one of her friend's warm ones. "And maybe the real me ought'a mentioned this, or hades, maybe I should have. But I never thought-"

"No. Stop." Octavia sighed. "You are being absolutely honest in that regard. You did not think." She took a very deep breath. "You only acted."

"That's how I am!" the vampire happily chirped. "But Octy, what's wrong?"

"Sometimes I like a little privacy, Vinyl. Everypony does, it's the hallmark of a truly civilized society, the idea that the individual has a right to a little privacy now and again." She kept as stiff an upper lip as a mare could be expected to, under the circumstances. "And you are telling me that I shall never have it again, because the lunatic is in my head."

"Octy." The pale mare patted her head. "We were roomies, remember? Have I bugged you so far?"

Octavia took a long breath. "No. But I did not know before. Now that I do, I shall ever be questioning my actions and intents, wondering if they are truly mine or-"

"Blah-blah-blah." The vampire flopped back in her chair. "No you don't. Because I'm me. And I'm far too lazy to bother with all that." She slipped her shades back on. "Octavia, Vinyl Scratch is a simple creature. She wants good times, great music, and warm blood."

"But you have the ability to control me, Vinyl, do you not? To do what Scoffing Song was attempting?" Octavia bit her lip, shivered once, then continued, "and you are able to do it at your leisure."

"Miss McGlow-eyes wanted to kill you." Vinyl yawned. "I can't think of anything more... abby... ab-homie... a-torrent..." Her head turned to the cellist, "what's that word that you use sometimes when you're talking about my tunes? You always sorta crinkle your nose up and lean back when you say it."

"Abhorrent?"

"Yeah! That's the one!" She cleared her throat and patted Octavia on the head, then stuck her nose up in the air to emphasize how cultured she was about to be. "I can think of nothing more abhorrent. You're my best friend, Octy. I'd have to hurt you bad to take over around here, and there's no way I'd do that." She patted the projector. "That's why I snooze when you're awake and play videogames when you're asleep. The only time I do any work around here is when... y'know..." The vampire grinned wide and winked. "When we do it."

Octavia swallowed hard and leaned back. "Do... what?"

"The crimson, Octy." She took a deep breath, then began to progressively lean closer to her friend as she spoke. "The killer kiss, the euphoria-bite, the purpose of mortalkind-" Vinyl paused. "Mom says that's a bad way to say it, but others use it lots. I mean the freakin' only thing a vampire needs. Blood, Octy." Vinyl licked her fangs. "I'm that little magical tickle that makes losing the red juice that pumps through your veins feel like a warm bath with your favorite rubber ducky. Whenever the real me sinks her fangs in, she and I touch hooves. Aside from that..." Her horn glowed, and the crystal cartridge levitated up. "I'm not messing around with your head. Because if I did, I'd destroy something I really care about."

The cellist tapped her front hooves together again, still nervous and worried. "Do you really mean that?"

"You told me I didn't have to be alone against the world anymore. Did you really mean that?"

"Yes." Octavia calmed her nerves and tried to focus. "Yes, Vinyl, I did."

"Octy, you're my best friend. If I break you, I'll be alone again. And I don't want that." A small smile appeared on her muzzle. "So... trust me to be selfish, okay?"

The cellist smiled in response. "I... suppose I can always count on that, Vinyl."

"Besides," the vampire threw her front hooves up in the air. "You'd be crazy-hard to break."

"Our recent foe did not seem to struggle too greatly," the earth pony replied quietly.

"You'd have thought of something if I hadn't shown up. But, if I hadn't stepped in, I wouldn't be doin' my job." Her eyes glowed. "Your will's a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, and you're a lot more awesome than you seem to want to remember most of the time. All I had to do was remind you you're awesome." She held up her controller. "That reminds me, can I keep on playing this?"

"As... long as the... games you play contain only those things which I have done while in service to the Bon Hadescream Organization."

"Spin my heart and hope to fly, stick an XLR plug in my eye!" promised the pale mare, with the appropriate hoof gestures. "Hey... I wonder if this has co-op." A maniacal grin crossed her face. "Two Octavias..."

"No," Octavia said quickly. "I really do need to get out of here. I need to complete my mission. Others are relying on me." She leaned onto the chair and poked Vinyl in the tummy. "You are relying on me."

"I ain't holding you here, Octy." The vampire shrugged. "And I can guarantee you and I are the only ones in your head." She sat upright and shook her controller next to her ear for some reason only she could fathom. "So, either you're really up for some awesome Virtua Sniper XIII but you don't wanna admit it, or there's something else on your mind."

The sniper looked down at her front hooves, then sat back on her haunches. She rubbed the sides of her head and shut her eyes, trying to process all that had happened. Why could she not leave? Did she have to find some secret door, or answer a riddle? Why could she not just shrug and let all this fade back to the dreamworld it had come from?

Vinyl tapped a button and started up her game, then slipped on her headphones and tried to play as quietly as possible. When Octy got like this, it was best to leave her alone. After a few minutes of fun-videogame-time, which might have been an eon in the dreamworld and an age in the real one, the unicorn felt a grey hoof poke her side. She paused the game, pulled off her headphones, and smiled innocently up at her friend. "Let me guess, you want to feed me orange wedges while I'm playing?" The vampire wrapped her front legs around the cellist. "You're the bestest friend ever, Octy!"

"No, Vinyl." The earth pony smiled. "I have a question for you. About dragons."

"Ooooh," the vampire's eyes widened.
> Bastile (Part XVII): Aquarium - Bookbrain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Octyyy... are you done yet?" the pale unicorn groaned. "I mean, it feels like we've been looking for years!"

Octavia sighed, and nosed through a book. They were back in the library of her mind, surrounded by shelf after shelf of her memories. A small stack of them sat on each side of her. "I know you once told me something about dragons and dragon bones, and I'm not going to pass up this chance to remember." 

"Just run down there and kill 'em all before they can do anything. Bonus points if you use one of the dragon bones like a baseball bat and knock one of their heads over a balcony rail!" Vinyl sprawled atop a mess of books. Her horn glowed softly as she levitated a few stacks around herself and lazily glanced through them. The books were not filled with words, but songs. They represented the grey mare's thoughts and the architecture her mind used to store memories. Music was an inextricable part of her life, and so her memories were ordered like notes on a stave. "All this stuff is ancient. Why couldn't you at least put your memories on eight-track tapes?" Vinyl rolled over and let her tongue loll out of her mouth. "Unnnghh... Wait. You're a sniper, why don't you just find a window that overlooks wherever they're planning to do the ritual and go all Mad Gunmare II: The Clocktower Strikes Seven-oh-Six on 'em?"

"If they have any sense at all, they'll have put some kind of protective bubble up over the ritual site."

"If they had any sense at all, they wouldn't be mucking about with dragon bones." The unicorn paged through a book, then tossed it away. "Those things are usually ancient, fossils from back when the dragons actually ruled instead of slumming around between caves and taking nice long naps."

The grey mare set one songbook aside and picked up the next. A small shiver ran down her spine. She was still struggling to cope with the violation of her mind by that... that... Deep breath, Octavia. Maintain focus. That target.

"Okay, so they have a force field. Have Beakie blow the roof and fill the whole atrium of the hotel with rubble. He's gotta have some boom-boom on him somewhere. Heh." A jagged grin spread across the unicorn's face.

The grey mare shook her head and continued searching earnestly. She had to do this, she had to prove that she was worthy of the trust that the Organization had placed in her. Failure was something she could not accept.

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be cool. I mean, it's not like we really need this old place intact, right? Not if the alternative is giant monsters. If the real me was up and about, I'd just spook him into doing it." The vampire snickered, then rolled over on the mess of books again and stretched her back. "But since I'm out of commission for a lil' bit... just ask all nice like you do, and he'll get flustered like he does, and then-"

Octavia shook her head. "No, Vinyl." An explosion of that magnitude would almost certainly draw the attention of ARGUS. She pulled a leatherbound book off the shelf and paged through it. "Dragons... dragons... what did you tell me about dragons..."

"Never make a deal with one, shadowrunner." Vinyl glanced through a book with 1989 written on its cover in chromium letters, then tossed it over her head. "Oh, and if one runs for elected office, it's a sure bet that he'll get exploded if he wins. Or he'll ascend to a higher plane of existence to protect the world from horrors that seek to consume all life, but it'll still look like he got exploded. Booooom." She balanced a book on her nose. "And the baby ones are cute."

The grey mare ran a hoof along a stave, hearing the notes in her mind and feeling the memories come into focus. This mind-state that Scoffing Song had forced upon her was like a deep form of hypnosis. It opened up avenues of the mind that were normally shut, and allowed even tiny details to be recalled from the mists of memory. Finding them was the problem. Though she knew that time was short, Octavia also knew she had to seize this chance. If only Vinyl was truly here, with all that eldrich knowledge heaped like dirty dishes inside her mind...

"But, yeah. Never make a deal with a dragon, because they usually have a clause in there about eating your soul. However, if you outsmart the dragon and he somehow violates his part of the contract, you get to keep your soul and he goes scuttling away, back to wherever dragons go." Vinyl stood upright and plodded over to her friend. She was a fragment of the true Vinyl Scratch, but she retained most of her functionality. Sort of like the difference between a studio recording of a song and a live concert. The fragment liked to imagine she sounded better in the studio sometimes, but couldn't deny that the live version kicked serious tail. "The dead ones, at least. The living ones don't usually have a code or anything anymore, but the ancient ones that you can still revive are bound by all kinds of rules and usually eat souls to maintain their physical forms."

"Um-hmmm..." Octavia muttered inattentively as she continued nosing through the books. Weakness, there was some kind of weakness, I know Vinyl mentioned it to me... She almost had it, she knew she did, it was right at the edge of her mind... "Vinyl, if you could put your pride aside for a moment and help-"

"Oh, and dragons have pride like nobody's business. Greed too. Anger, envy, lust, gluttony, sloth, oh yeah. They're all nasty creatures who thought they were the best at everything, which is why they're all dead. Pride goeth before the societal implosion and subsequent ego-driven civil war fueled by misplaced confidence in individuals who promised the stars but were capable of little more than emotional manipulation." She paused for a moment and turned her head, following a red wisp that had trailed past, then looked back at the grey mare. "Slimeballs with that kind of attitude need to stick to being rock stars. Like me." Vinyl pushed her glasses up her muzzle as Octavia turned to stare at her with wide-eyed wonder. The unicorn could jump from moments of moronic sloth to insightful scholarship as quickly as the earth pony could eat a daisy. "Those still alive are either too young to know about the hedonism of their elders, or they've slept too much to remember much of anything from back then. Heh, what's funny is that when an old dragon is resurrected from its bones, it still thinks it's king of the mountain and the best at everything, but it's really only good for causing a lot of destruction until it's had time to refresh its old skills. Its body has forgotten how to do things, even though its mind remembers that the dragon had sharp skills. I can sympathize with that. I forget a lot when I conk out too." The pale mare yawned. "Wait, what was my name again?"

Octavia slammed the book in her hooves shut and smiled as the knowledge she had sought clicked solidly into place. "Vinyl Scratch... you're a genius!"

"Hey! Yeah, that's me!" She held out her arms. "Hug?"

The earth pony wrapped her front legs around her friend. "That was what I needed, thank you."

"What was the who... huh?" Vinyl stuck out her tongue and spat into a dark corner to untie the knot in it.

"I need to vanquish this dragon, and undo all the preparations that these cultists have made. I failed to kill their leader outright, and I do not think I will awaken in time to have another chance. So I must be prepared to deal with the monster they seek to summon as well."

"Go mash the monster, Octy." The vampire smirked. "Make it a graveyard smash, like we always do."

"No, Vinyl. That won't work this time. If it comes to a stand-up fight, we're finished." She swallowed hard, then said firmly, "I'm going to outsmart the monster."

"Really? Outsmart a dragon?" Vinyl raised an eyebrow. "Hrmm... well, I think if anypony can do it, you can. But hey, maybe you're just overreacting." She patted her friend's back. "I mean, what if the cultists in the elevator reach the ground floor and discover that there's a couple of black-armored Operatives there with full-auto lasrifles? Boom, problem solved."

"Real life is never that convenient, my domitor." She sighed. "The fickle wind of chance is always blowing against us, throwing our best-aimed rounds off-target."

"You're right. Besides, then Beakie would be smug as the cat that got the canary." She groaned, imagining the gryphon all puffed up with his institutional pride. "Then he'd write up a report about the value of well-trained Operatives and how they should never be underestimated, even when used in conjunction with Assets." Vinyl stuck out her tongue. She did all the heavy lifting when she was around, and everypony knew it. "And then he'd glare at me even more than he usually does while blabbering on about endangering not only the team, not only your partner, but every employee of the Bon Hadescream Corporation in this city while putting countless civilian lives at risk."

"Vinyl... what did you do back at the base? Why did everything explode? Was it really some kind of trap, or..."

"Heh, wouldn't you like to know." The vampire smiled. "And, honestly, I would too. So, go kick rump, get the real me back to normal, and we'll find out together what I meant by spider in the crate."
> Bastile (Part XVIII): Aquarium - Listening
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Very good," Octavia glanced about. "Which way leads out?"

Vinyl shrugged. "I dunno. I've never tried to leave, m'self." She yawned. "I usually just play video games or nap. Hey, there's an idea!" The vampire held out her front legs. "Come and play with me, Octy!" Her grin widened beyond what would be possible for a pony of flesh and blood. "Forever, and ever, and ever!"

"Ugh." The grey mare pressed a hoof against her face.

"Yeah, but seriously, I need to know how to beat that one level. Or just have you beat it for me. Or I could loot your brain for a Sybex strategy guide. There's gotta be one around here somewhere." The vampire glanced about. "And as for your question, the only time I'm anywhere close to getting out of here is when the real me is feeding on you. I need something to sort of tug me out." She flopped onto her back and looked up. "I suppose, since you are you, and you being you means that you're in charge of this place in an ultimate sense of it all, you should be able to figure some way out. But it'd probably still be easier if you had someone to tug you."

Octavia tried not to panic. "You mean... this will not simply fade away on its own?" Time was precious, all the more so because she had spent so long searching for knowledge. "All-right... where should I begin searching?"

Something echoed through the library, an electronic crackle that seemed to hold a word. Octavia perked up her ears, but could not quite catch the sound.

The pale mare shrugged. "I dunno. We can try going back to where you came in, see if that helps." She rolled to her hooves and began plodding along. "While we're walking, how'd you make that shot? You know which one I'm talking about, right?"

"I... think so." The grey mare sighed. That memory was vivid to her now, whether she wanted it to be or not. She wondered if the clarity was Vinyl's doing. "You have to ricochet the bullet off the backstop. It was-"

"Don't say luck. That's my gimmick. You're too good for luck."

Octavia sighed. "I... did expect the ricochet to hit the second target, but I was also prepared to hit him on the run if needed. Marksmareship is an art, Vinyl, but you should never trust environmental factors to tilt in your favor. Always build up your own strengths, then rely on them."

The pale mare pulled down her shades. "That's deep, Octy." She plodded down the library aisles where she had first sought Octavia. "You did a pretty good job of dodging me in here."

"I... I thought you were Scoffing Song."

"Well, I'm often imitated, never duplicated." Vinyl scratched her mane. "Uh... I mean, technically I'm a duplicate of the original Vinyl Scratch, just in your head. But at the same time... urgh. I knew I should have paid more attention to theoretical quantum entanglements."

Octavia laughed in spite of herself and the situation, then lept up into the ruins of her father's den. This was where the nightmare had started. It seemed long ago now, but the room was still cold and drained of color. Her father still sat in the chair, and the fire was frozen mid-burn. Everything was just as they had left it.

"You have a ton of training and discipline, Octy." Vinyl looked around the room. "I'm glad you finally found a good use for it."

That electric echo came again, whispering like a voice in the night.

"As am I, Vinyl." The gray mare gathered her courage and looked into her father's eyes once more. She felt an odd mixture of revulsion and love well up in her heart. "I... I still do not think I deserve the life I now live, but... but I will do my best to be worthy of it."

The vampire yawned. "Well, I suppose that's one option. I went with rampant hedonism and abusing my powers for my own gain, but y'know. I'm not as noble as you." She glared at the color-drained stallion sitting in the chair. He was responsible for messing up Octy, but he was also responsible for making her awesome. No. Octy was responsible for making Octy awesome. She'd have turned out fine with different parents, parents who respected her talent for music. But... she also wouldn't know how to kill two bad guys with one bullet.

Octavia walked up to the fire, then turned to look at her father in his chair. Is that what is holding me here? Do I... do I have to let go? She bit her lip. I do not think I can. I cannot forgive him, not for what he did to me... but I am grateful for some of his teaching. Her father had tried to "do the best he could with what he had to work with". He was wrong on a philosophical level, but very right about the value of the skills he had taught her. I need to go. I need to leave. I have a mission. Why can I not go and complete it? She shut her eyes. "A-am I really this useless? I cannot escape my own mind?"

"You're not useless, Octy. You're just trained." The pale mare patted her friend's head. "You're used to waiting on orders, following a prewritten sheet of music. You can improvise, but you need a push." She casually poked Octavia in the side. "Push. Push. Push."

"I do not think it is working, Vinyl..."

"Yeah. I mean, the walls are probably thicker than usual because of that hag wanting to keep you trapped, but there's still gotta be a way out." She sat back on her haunches and fiddled with her red hat. "Y'see, brain-worlds aren't like the real world. They're squishy and impulse-driven. Maybe that's why you're stuck in the mud."

Octavia leaned her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"You were ordered to stop Scoffing Song, right? Well, you did. In here, at least."

"No, Vinyl. You did." Octavia smiled. "And thank you."

"Mmh. I was bored. It seemed fun." She grinned. "You know I'm always here for you. And don't distract me, you know I'm not good at this logical train-of-thought stuff." The vampire pulled her hat low over her eyes and made a choo-choo noise. "You used me to stop Scoffing Song. So, technically, you completed your mission."

"But she is still out there, in the real world."

"Ah," Vinyl held up a front hoof. "But your brain doesn't realize that, just like it took you a few beats to remember me. Your brain's all squishy, and it thinks you've accomplished your mission. And what do you do after you accomplish your mission?"

"Escape, evade, return to safehouse, and await... further... orders?" Octavia's eyes widened. 

"Yup, that's you. Now, see, I prefer to hit up a club, beat up whoever they have crankin' tunes, and put on an impromptu show. Then I'll syphon a lil' off of the hunkiest looking stallions and be out the back door before the cops arrive." She shrugged innocently. "But that's how I roll. Your brain's spinning, but there's no needle on the record. You're stuck in neutral right now." The vampire leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. "So, if your body's in control instead of your spirit, and you're running on automatic, what happens? Full stop. You've been pushing yourself too hard these past few weeks. You're gonna black out until your body's had a chance to recover a bit."

The grey mare shook her head violently. "No, no, no! I cannot, I have to find and eliminate the target!" She whirled about, searching for some way of escape. "Lives depend on me. I cannot fail again. Vinyl, please, help me!"

"Would if I could, Octy." The pale unicorn shrugged, then flicked her tail and turned to look at her friend. "Hmm... okay, let's try this... Octavia," she waved a pale hoof dramatically, "search and destroy!"

"Ah..." the earth pony looked back at her friend. "Vinyl... I do not feel..." The grey mare glanced around the room. She certainly wanted to leave and find the enemy, but she did not know how. "I do not know if that helped..."

"Yeah, you're used to resisting my influence. Plus, I'm not the real me. Well, I am, but I'm not." The DJ tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... maybe you just need to mellow out, y'know?" She rummaged inside her red trenchcoat. "Ugh, I think I left all my brownies back with the videogames..."

"Vinyl, I do not have time to mellow out. Operatives' lives are in my hooves, and I cannot let them down again!"

"Nah, I get it, but all that noise is clogging your brain, Octy. You have to calm down, open your mind a bit. That'll soften up these walls. I hope." She stopped rummaging in her trenchcoat and hauled herself onto all four hooves. "All that worry makes it hard to hear stuff that's happening outside."

The crackling electric echo pinged through her mind again.

"Wait... hear stuff from outside..." the grey mare looked up, searching for that elusive noise. "Do you mean..."

"Hearing's the last thing to go when you're passed out, Octy. So, even if your body's powered down, you might just be able to hear something that'll wake you up."

Yes, Octavia said to herself. It's time to wake up. Time to wake up... time to wake... 

 "Str... Strings. Come in." The crackle came and went, but this time she had caught its meaning. The grey mare looked at her friend, hoping this was not a trick of her mind.

"There's something." Vinyl smiled. "It's thin, but it's there. Here, I'll let you borrow my ears." She lifted the monogrammed headphones from around her neck with a glow of her horn, then placed them on Octavia's head. The grey mare found them lighter than she had expected. "Now, listen for something that'll anchor you out of here."

She heard words, songs, the sounds of machines grinding and lasguns firing, pegasi strafing and AFVs exploding, but none of them were current. The electric crackle came again, carrying this time the voice of the Lady Bon Hadescream, but that too was an echo. Octavia clung to each sound, wanting just to get out of here and continue her mission, but each echo seemed to crumble whenever she focused on it. The walls that Scoffing Song had put around her mind were thick.

"You are a continual disappointment to me." She heard the words of her father again, and bit her lip. "Not simply because of your body, but because of your heart. There is something in you I have not been able to crush, some... illness of the mind that holds you back from your potential. And I wonder as I sit here what the cause of that might be."

What was holding her back? What illness? Her generosity, her desire to help those in need rather than crush them? She shook her head a little. No... that is not an illness. Father was wrong... I... I think. Her generosity was not an illness. It was a talent. A gift that made the world better for everypony. She stiffened her back and held the headphones closer, listening intently for that electronic echo.

"You were born to bring death and sorrow, not joy. Do you understand?" Her father's words crackled like logs in a fireplace, turning to ash and blowing away once heard. "If... if there had been another way, I would have taken it. Any other way, but... I must pass on my mantle, and you are my daughter."

No choice. My father had no choice. But I do. I have the opportunity to give to the world rather than taking. "We cheer the innocent. We act for the victims. We who have won life's lottery will answer, not in guilt but acceptance of our duty, for those too weak to cry out." She breathed in slowly, and felt Vinyl's hoof on one of her shoulders.

"Listen, Octy. The walls are shakin'."

She listened, and she heard the clear crackle of the comm-bead that still rested in the ear of her real body. Words came with it, orders, inquiries, and pleas. Then, all faded into a roaring storm. Though her eyes were shut, she felt the walls shatter and heard the floor give way. Once more she was falling, once more she was floating in an abyss, but this time she felt Vinyl's front legs wrapped around her. She opened her eyes.

Vinyl cracked a grin as wind whipped past, bellowing out her trenchcoat and playing with Octavia's mane. "That's you. Break a leg, babe."
> Bastile (Part XIX): Pianistes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"The wind began to switch, the room to pitch, and suddenly the hinges started to unhitch!" laughed the pale mare. "Off you go, Octy." Vinyl released her friend and began to drift away. "Say hello to Beakie for me, and go kick tail!"

"Wait, Vinyl!" the earth pony yelled as the roar around them grew louder, "how... how will I know that I am really out, and it is not just another figment of my mind?"

"Eh. Ever go snow-skiing?"

"What? N-no!"

"I love doing that, it's such a rush!" The vampire grinned wide as the winds swirled them back and forth around one another. "Hate the cold, though. Brrrr. Anyway, what they tell you to do if you get trapped by an avalanche is to spit."

"Avalanche?" Octavia yelled uncertainly.

"Yeah. You spit to find out which way down is. If it falls up, you're upside-down. If it falls down and hits you in the face, you're downside-up." Vinyl shrugged, apparently thinking her nonsense was somehow perfectly clear. "Dreams work the same."

"But that does not make any-"

"I'm sorry, who's the expert here?" The pale mare grinned as she fell away into the abyss. "Showtime, Octy!" Octavia saw her friend's purple shades growing larger and larger in the darkness until they suddenly vanished. Nothingness surrounded her for a moment, but she still felt as though she was falling. She crashed back into the floor of the hotel and twitched from head to hoof for a few seconds with her eyelids still shut. The roar that had swirled around her mind was still there, if anything it had only gotten louder. At first she thought it might be the dragon. Octavia raised her head and forced her eyes open, only to find her vision filled by a cracked helmet visor, and behind it the eyes of an angry gryphon.

"On your hooves, asset!"

Octavia bounced upright, her stiff limbs responding automatically to the barked order.

"Shift back two, right now!" he growled. She backed up two steps. He moved forward the same distance to keep his armored beak right in her face. Her comm-bead was still in her ear, and her cello case was still on her back. He had relieved her of her pistol, though. On his back was a misshapen bag, and she could see blood oozing down the outside of his helmet. "Is your throat torn out, asset?"

"No, sir!" she replied groggily. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Had it stopped beating entirely while she was unconscious? How long had she been out?

"Are you confused about your loyalties?"

"No, sir!"

He stepped back, out of her face, and lowered his voice. "Then, please explain to me why I found you sleeping on the job."

"Sir, I-" she began, but suddenly he was in her face again.

"Does The Organization pay by the hour, asset?" He flexed his wings. She noticed one of them bent oddly. "Do we just have mares and material to throw about? Will somepony else be around to cover your duties if you need a nap?"

"No, sir."

"Did I give you permission to die, or to rest, or to do anything except kill one nutball cultist leader?"

"No, sir." Octavia coughed, then bent her head and hacked something transparent out onto the floor. It did not fall back up into her face. She shook her head and straightened up. Her thoughts were clearer now.  

The gryphon glowered. She saw blood ooze down into his eye from a cut, but he blinked it away and kept glaring. There had been an entire class about glaring on Pendulum Island. "What are you?"

"An asset of the Bon Hadescream Organization, sir."

"What is your function?"

"To eliminate threats to Her Solar Majesty's nation and populace, sir."

"When do you stop?"

"Not until the mission is complete, sir." It was a simple thing, being yelled at and forced to answer, but it shook the last of the figments from her mind. Octavia was ready to finish her assignment.

He stepped back, coughed, and looked her over. "Good. You're stable." Under his breath, she could hear him grumble something. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the elevator. "Time's up, asset. We're scrubbing the mission and pulling out."

She stared at him in shock. "Where will we go? And... and we cannot leave, the cultists have what they need to summon a dragon. We have to stop-"

The gyphon glared at her. "The window of opportunity for that has closed. We've taken casualties." He shifted the misshapen dark sack on his back. Octavia realized it was a body bag. She swallowed hard as she realized what must be inside. While she could regenerate from almost any injury, the operatives were merely common mortals with armor, weapons, and a will to fight the madness. Few of them had grown up like the gryphon, as a ward of a secret society. All across Equestria, most operatives were simply ponies fighting for their homes. "The enemy has consolidated their forces. We do not have the resources to stop them. Withdrawal is the only tactical choice available."

Octavia realized she must have been unconscious for a short while. Facts began falling into place in her mind. By now, Scoffing Song would have reached the ground floor and set up her summoning circle in the atrium. Likely with some kind of protective bubble as well. The dragon would be summoned, there was no way they could prevent that now. And yet... that was good. That was excellent, actually. Provided that the tidbits of knowledge she had dug up were accurate, the situation was still salvageable. Not with weapons, but maybe with music. She looked into Rollins' eyes and saw fear. He was terrified, but he was still trying to think clearly and act decisively. The gryphon was blaming himself for throwing the team into this mess, and for leaving her without support. That was why he had come to recover her himself when she had stopped responding over the comm-link. The pegasus who had flown up to the roof with him was likely the one in that body bag, her remains technomagically preserved in the hope the Organization's doctors might somehow produce a miracle. He knew he had failed all of them, just as Octavia had failed her mission, she saw that in his eyes. But he was also silently begging her to give him another option, one that would make the blood spilled here worth it. Not for his sake, but for theirs.

"I can stop them, sir."

"They put you down once."

"Not with bullets."

"No?" He nodded. "I thought as much. No holes in your uniform. What, then?"

"Some kind of mind-trickery I was not expecting, but my domitor protected me from the worst of it." She saw his eyes narrow when she referred to Vinyl with that word.

"We're out of time, Asset. I can't let you." The gryphon glared hard at her. "For all I know, you're compromised, and I'd be letting you run off to join the cultists' ranks."

"If I do not stop her, this city will be destroyed." If not by the dragon then by ARGUS' response when they finally noticed the monster. "What have we to lose?"

Rollins looked away, then reached up and pulled off his shattered helmet. It had already taken too much damage to be useful anyway. Blood oozed from a gash down the side of his head, but she had seen him with worse injuries. "You'd be on your own. I can't come and wake you up again. The other Operatives are disengaging and pulling back. Once the cultists started mobbing and arming up, the tide turned. What do you have in mind that will not only stop the dragon, but the small army of crazies too?"

The grey mare smiled, and stretched her front legs. "I am going to play a song." She shifted her cello case on her back.

Rollins stared at her for a long moment with a deep scowl on his beak. Then he sighed. "Strings... can you really pull this mission back out of the chamberpot?"

She nodded. "Yes sir. I will not fail you again."

He shook his head. "Wrong mindset. You can't let the fear of past failure weigh you down, Asset. You have to push, and struggle, and reach a little higher each time." She could tell he was saying it for his own sake as much as hers. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Anypony else, I'd tell you to shut up and follow me. But you're an Asset, that means you're a wild card to be played when the chips are down. I've seen you do the impossible before, and I believe you can do it again. The Lady Bon Hadescream believes that too, or she wouldn't put you in the field." Rollins shifted the weight on his back. "I need you to get down there and prove her right once more."

Octavia felt refreshed, as though she had just enjoyed a nice nap rather than a terrifying romp through old memories. She glanced down at the spittle on the floor. This was the Real World. The cellist knew she could win here. "Yes sir, I can do that."

The gryphon studied her for a few seconds longer, then stepped to one side. "All-right, then." He held out her pistol, butt-first and safety on. She took it and slipped it into her holster. "Request approved." He turned and marched to the elevator, dug his claws into the crack where the two doors met, and pried them apart with some grunting and cursing. "Power's out for the whole building. Don't ask." Things had been going so well. The two cultist engineers had surrendered and repented. They had secretly been thinking of leaving the cult, believing it was not a place where a foal should be raised, but knew Scoffing Song would never allow it. With their help, the operatives had begun a safe shutdown of the power room, which went fine right up until the point where more guards stormed in and began attacking everything that moved. There had been too many of them, and they were too coordinated to be a shift-change. The only explanation was that Scoffing Song had sent more guards to vital areas, with orders to kill everything. Either she was trying to eliminate unneeded followers, or she realized that her fortress was being overrun. She wouldn't need electricity for the ritual, just magic. The guards had blown out a control panel with a poorly-thrown spear and overloaded something, sending the entire room into darkness. That had been a mistake. Never fight a highly-trained cat with wings in the dark. Rollins had taken them out, but not fast enough. He was never fast enough, or strong enough, or good enough.

Octavia wasted no time, charging toward the elevator and leaping across the gap to grab the cable that dangled down the middle of the shaft.

"Strings!" Wind-one called after her. She wrapped her lower legs around the cable, then looked back at him.

"Yes, sir?"

The gryphon pulled his shattered helmet back on. He might not have been good enough, but he was still a Pendulum rat. Remorse is something you wallow in after the mission is complete. "Kill bodies."

"Aye, Lieutenant." And with that, the grey ghoul slid down into the darkness.
> Bastile (Part XX): Fossiles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia slammed down atop the stopped elevator, tore open the service hatch atop it, and dropped inside. It was empty and unpowered, its once-polished wood marred by abuse. The doors were jammed half-open, enough for her to slip through with her cello case upon her back. She ran through the empty corridors of the hotel, a sense of unease growing with each step. The atrium was just ahead. She could see a hellish glow flickering from around the corner, and as soon as she rounded it she saw that the summoning was indeed underway. Octavia slid into cover behind a cleaning cart and assessed the situation. What had once been an common area, then a garden, had finally degenerated into a smoldering wasteland. A tinge of sulfur filled the air. Hunks of rock floated off the ground, all that had once been green was twisted into strange spiked growths, and the cultists were gathered in a circle around a wide depression in the center of the floor. What seemed to be molten magma swirled within its depths. The Daughter stood atop a raised hunk of rock that stretched out over the glowing hole, cackling like a madmare. She held an earth pony by the scruff of his neck, an earth pony that Octavia recognized.

"Wait!" he shouted. "No! You promised-"

"Rejoice, Grip Steel!" screamed the cult's leader, loud enough for Octavia to hear her clearly even over the groaning winds, bubbling molten rock, and chanting cultists. "Your inner spark is about to be joined with the Great Glow!"

"No! This isn't what I wanted-"

"All power requires sacrifice, and yours shall feed mine." In her other hoof, she held what looked like a dragon skull. Octavia drew her rifle from her case, and looked through the sight. What seemed to be bones were swirling around the magma-filled crater, somehow surviving the incredible heat. Yes, the summoning was definitely underway. She sighted in on The Daughter, but held back. That semi-visible pink field around the lava pit would likely stop her bullets. It was not as strong as some she had seen, The Organization had a few mighty mages, but it was being generated by several unicorns channeling their magic together from within the field. They were amateurs at best, though probably still enough to stop a single sniper's shots. She put her shoulder against the cart and rolled it toward the barrier, hoping that the field would only stop energy pulses or things moving too fast. Truly impenetrable barriers were tricky things indeed, usually only cast by exceptionally talented unicorns. She doubted that any of these ponies had gone to Celestia's School.

"Oh, yes. I have come so very, very far." The Daughter gave Grip Steel a shake to silence his whimpering. "But now, at long last, it is within my grasp. Power, power overwhelming!"

The grey mare slid inside the pink bubble, unslung her rifle, and once more sighted in on Scoffing Song. A floating chunk of rock drifted between her and the target just before she could center the sight on the maniacal unicorn.

"Now, to the abyss with you, and to the heavens with me!" She threw the screaming earth pony and the dragon skull down into the molten pit and laughed. Octavia knew she was out of time. She slid out of cover, around the meandering hunk of rock, centered the sight, and pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow. It was a good shot, right on target. She should have done this from the start, should have just killed everypony in the building... but... no, that was not how The Organization was permitted to operate. They had to have proof of guilt. And... she had saved one. The bullet soared through the air, on course for Scoffing Song's head.

Then a great scaly arm shot up from the pit of lava, and snatched the projectile just before it hit. Octavia felt her heart quiver as another arm rose out of the pit, splashing lava across the transformed atrium, and then a giant horned head rose. Streams of molten rock cascaded off the dragon's body as it emerged from another world. It was a majestic creature, its scales sparkling and bright, but also unspeakably horrifying. Instead of a rounded body or sculpted muscles like the tapestries back at Central, it looked like a skeleton with a thin layer of scales stretched over its bones. Runes traced over its shimmering skin, strange and odd symbols that burned Octavia's eyes, and its teeth were jagged and misshapen. The Carpathian wormed its way into the physical world, then with his eyes still shut he smiled down at Scoffing Song.

"I honor your sacrifice of magicka and flesh, little creature, and I thank you for calling me forth." His voice was a booming, rolling thunder that sent all the cultists cowering to their knees. With eyes still closed, he heard them trembling in fear and laughed. Then he rolled his neck and shook out his arms. The bottom half of his body still remained below the swirling magma. "Now, tell me what boon I might grant, that I may be loosed upon this world once more!"

"There is no need for haste, mighty one," Scoffing Song smiled wickedly up at him. "I have many things that will yet be of use to you. All I ask is a lioness' portion of your power as it grows."

"As you have spoken, so it shall be," he replied. While those words still echoed off the dilapidated walls of the atrium, he opened his eyes.

The entire building shook as though it had been struck by an invisible sledgehammer. Octavia felt a primal urge to run. Her ancestors had been as ants to the ancient dragons. The Great Old Ones had been reapers of flesh and fortune, taking what they wished for their hordes. Ponies existed only because they allowed it, and their short lives had easily been brought to premature ends if the infinitely-superior dragons willed it. Their desires were beyond pony comprehension, their lifespans near-infinite. Awe and obedience were the only acceptable reactions. Octavia saw the cultists felt just the same as she did, falling to their knees before their arisen master. She pushed the instinct down as best as she could. This was a new age, one of reason and harmony... right?

His eyes were pools of black, dotted with red specks and orange slits. They were not the eyes of a modern dragon, or a gryphon, or a pony, or anything she had ever seen before. "Ahh, ponies." The dragon smacked his lips and rubbed his claws together. "Yes, yes, yes. It has been too long since I have feasted upon the flesh of those who believe themselves rulers of this land."

"Strings," her comm-bead crackled softly. "Get out of there. Run!"

"No," she whispered back. "I have to stop him."

"You don't have anything that'll punch through his scales, and even if you did, those runes would disintegrate it on contact."

Well, at least Rollins was watching. She glanced about, wondering if perhaps she could shoot the unicorns projecting the protective bubble. They were already distracted by the dragon...

"Get out of there. He hasn't fully manifested yet," the gryphon pleaded. "He'll be tall as a skyscraper when he is, and mean enough to eat an Ursa Major for supper. I've... seen one before."

"How did you stop him?" Octavia asked patiently while The Daughter and the dragon spoke to one another of sigils and plans.

"I didn't," muttered Rollins as he watched from a window high above. "And the rest is classified." That did not stop it from appearing in his dreams. He had been little more than a child, leading a group of fellow children with lasguns. All fresh from Pendulum, all believing they were the secret sentinels of Equestria, running a routine night operation that had turned into a three-way catastrophe after the cultists turned out to be summoning a dragon instead of trading in illegal artifacts. They hadn't been able to stop the summoning. Things had gone from bad to worse when the murderous machines appeared. Electric eyes and metal hearts, miniguns and maces that spark. He shivered, remembering the savage battle between the cultists and the hulks of steel. How he and a few of his team had kept their sanity and escaped, he did not know. Those memories were ranked high among the many he wished he could forget. So much blood, so much noise. Instead of a simple policing action, they had carried friends home in body bags. All the drill and discipline in the world couldn't have prepared his team for what they saw unleashed that night. Then when even that was not enough, the machines ripped the night sky open and threw down a star or seven. Burned the land, boiled the bogwater, and stalked away into the mists. He'd never get the image of that sky-fire out of his head.

The gryphon wiped his brow and tried to focus on what was happening right now. I've been awake too long... He fumbled in a pocket and downed another capsule. The Organization had rewarded the survivors of that night with gag orders and security clearances. He would have been happy with a mind eraser, no chaser. Some other Operatives envied him, thinking his swift rise through ranks and billets had been due to some kind of favoritism because he was a gryphon. They could not have been more wrong. The Organization was full of secrets, but highly classified knowledge had a terrible side-effect. It made you "special". Whenever somepony with authority was putting together a "special" team to do "special" operations, the gryphon was already on the short list. Sometimes he wondered if the Lady Bon Hadescream's father had placed that night under seal because even he did not know what those metal monsters were. It had been one of his last acts. All Rollins knew was that those files were part of a supposedly burned archive labeled CONSTITUENT THETA, and he never wanted to see them again. He kicked himself, knowing that he should never have let the cellist go. Whatever wonderful song she might have been planning that would drop the cultists to their knees and make them see the light of reason wouldn't work now. At least, he guessed that had been her plan. "Strings. This is an order. Get out."

"No," she replied softly as Scoffing Song and the dragon finally turned to look at her. Even though she was hidden behind the cart, she knew they knew she was there. "No, I cannot stop now. The show must go on." Octavia stood up tall. High above, the gryphon switched off his mic and muttered something to himself about her guts.

"Ahh, the little mudmare with the idiot father and mad unicorn in her head," laughed The Daughter. "I am so glad you could make it! Do you like what I've done with the place?" Before the sniper even had a chance to answer, the cult leader turned back to the dragon. "Destroy her."

"Dragon!" called Octavia, "by what right do you assert dominion over these lands?"

The Carpathian's eyes lit up. He rubbed his claws together as the darkness and light in his eyes floated in erratic patterns. "My, my, what have we here?" He laughed. "What right? This entire world belongs to the dragons, my little pony. It belonged to us from the beginning of time, and we never gave up our claim. Your society has never scratched the surface of our grandeur, nor have you ever wiped us from existence. Instead you coddle my degraded kin who remain, and step lightly for fear of their wrath." His jaw snapped shut, and smoke poured from his nostrils. "They are the least worthy of my race! Had we not left a vacuum with our bickering, your kind would never have had the opportunity to unite. Even now, you gather up the scraps of our magic and science that have not decayed to aether and dust, treating them as the greatest of treasures!" He clapped his claws together and grinned. "Without us, you are nothing. You never were anything more than food and amusement for my race, and you never will be anything more. I claim dominion because I never gave it up. I am Carpathian, I am immortal, and I am more than you could ever imagine."

"Yes, yes, that's wonderful," Scoffing Song agreed without much enthusiasm. "Now hurry up and destroy her."

The dragon rolled his shoulders and yawned. He paid no attention to the unicorn. "Well, little pony," he leaned toward Octavia. "Are you satisfied with my claim?"

"No. I have yet to see that your culture has surpassed ours." She chose her words carefully, as always. Dragons were usually orderly creatures. They liked reason and logic. The idea of a set of weighing scales that balanced all things, of some intangible cosmic justice, often appealed to them. They enjoyed outwitting that sense of justice as well, though. "You spoke of science and magic. What of art and music?"

"What of it?" asked the dragon. "I cannot imagine that ponies have created any great works of either. Look at your little hooves." He flexed a claw. "The opposable thumb club has always been better at such things."

"Noble and honored dragon," Scoffing Song said nervously, "please hurry up and destroy her. She bothers me with her presence, and we have far more pressing matters to address."

"Oh, very well then. I shall destroy her." He chuckled, a deep, booming sound, and the lava around his waist glowed brighter. With a sly grin, the ancient dragon with runes crawling over his body folded his claws and rested his chin on them. "Little grey pony with the cello case on her back... let me tell you what." The scent of brimstone and the distant screams of those doomed to eternal agony filled the air. "You probably did not know it, but I am a fiddle player too. And if you would care to take a dare, I shall make a bet with you."

"A bet?" screamed Scoffing Song as she threw her front hooves in the air. High above, the faintest hint of a smile appeared on the beak of a gryphon. "I spent years of my life dragging you up out of the ashbin of history, and you're stopping to make a bet with the first purple-eyed floozy who taunts you?"

He turned his head toward the unicorn and fixed her with those unsettling eyes, then looked back to the gray mare. "Perhaps you play a pretty good fiddle, my little pony, but give a dragon his due." One claw dipped deep below the magma, and drew forth a cello made of gold alloy. Its body reflected the reddish light that filled the atrium. Other priceless metals were inlaid for detail and utility, and its strings shone like platinum. Octavia gasped, for it was a thing of both beauty and utility. She felt a twitch of greed, as did everypony who looked upon the instrument. It was made in a bygone age for dragons, and was of course enormous, but as he pulled it out of the magma it seemed to size to his current height. The cello appeared to be made without regard to acoustic resonance, or the laws of physics, but there was no obvious form of electromagical amplification built into its slim frame. Nevertheless, its design and construction clearly indicated it was a masterwork of some forgotten artisan. The dragon snickered. "I shall bet this fiddle of gold against your soul, for I think I am better than you."

The gray mare answered clearly, her head up and eyes locked with the dragon's. "My name is Octavia, and it might be a sin," she smiled, feeling the egotistical antics of her domitor swirling through her mind. She pressed them down, relying instead on her own talents. "But I shall consider your bet, which you may regret. However, what good to me is a golden cello if it is too large for my hooves, or if you plan to destroy me along with the rest of this land even if I win?"

"Ha!" the dragon clapped. "I can already tell your soul will be tasty indeed. So much vigor!" He rubbed his chin. "Very well. If you win, I shall also discorporate."

"What? Are you dumber than a stack of bricks?" shouted Scoffing Song. "Kill her and be done with this!" She stamped her front hooves on the rock.

"Now, now," the dragon waggled a talon at the unicorn. "You told me to destroy her. That is precisely what I am doing."

"By betting with her?" The unicorn shrieked, and the dragon smiled wide. She slumped to the ground, suddenly looking and feeling very old. "This is the kind of iron-fisted competence that ruled the world long ago? You destroyed enemies by beating them in parlor bets?"

He reached into the molten lava and drew out a shiny cello bow. Then he chuckled while inspecting it, for many aeons had passed since he had last played the instrument. "I will demonstrate to her that draconic music is superior to pony music. She is a musician, as evidenced by that cute little mark on each side of her, and I am a master of all the great arts." A wicked grin spread across the dragon's face. "To be defeated in that which she loves, that which she believes is her destiny to produce, will hurt her worse than any physical pain."

"I don't care about hurting her," the cult leader tugged at her hair. "I tried that already!" She glared up at the dragon she had summoned, upset at not getting her way yet again. "I just want her dead!"

High above, Rollins nodded slowly.

"Really, Scoffing Song," Octavia said with a calm, wide smile, "if you cannot be sporting about all this, just be quiet." Vinyl referred to such a smile as her "trolling face". The term was wildly inaccurate. Trolls' faces in no way resembled a smug mare's. "Didn't you say just a little while ago that I probably wasn't that good of a musician anyway?"

"No, no, no! This isn't how it's supposed to go! We have a city to destroy, and power to gather, and-"

"And all of that can wait until after the performance," finished the dragon. Magma dripped from his fingertips as he readied his cello and bow. "Now, then..." he drew the bow across the strings of his cello, and it gave an evil hiss. "I shall start this show."

Scoffing Song marched down the elevated rock while he was tuning his instrument. Desperation showed clearly in her eyes. A small gaggle of her most loyal followers were gathered at the base of the outcropping, awaiting her command. She hissed to one of her guards, "kill her quickly, before-"

The dragon snorted, and a gout of flame blew just above Scoffing Song and her guards. They dropped to the floor and cowered while he finished tuning. After a moment he rolled his neck and chuckled. "Now then, my little pony, rejoice. You have the privilege of hearing music long forgotten by this world before your demise!"
> Bastile (Part XXI): Devil Went Down To Equestria...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia, in all her years of playing and listening to music, had never heard anything like the sounds that came out of the dragon's giant golden cello. The instrument itself appeared to be fashioned from pure gold, but the metal was still strong enough to stand up to the force of his playing. Its design was curious, including at least one part that seemed to fold in on itself and another that somehow made the parallel strings intersect. At least one of the cultists was reduced to a gibbering huddle of fur and drool after pondering for too long how that was possible. What interested Octavia the most was the sound. Every note was pure, as though it was plucked from the air between the strings and carried straight to your ears. The cello did not use a resonance chamber, and as he played she saw him tweak little knobs and tap panels that caused the runes etched upon its surface to swell or ebb. As the runes changed, so did the sounds of the instrument. It was a fascinating marvel of magic and music, a pure conduit from the performer's soul.

Perhaps Vinyl would have understood the sorcerous mysteries, she did have a knack for that sort of thing, but Octavia understood the utility of such an instrument. It removed as many obstacles as possible. No concession was made to the laws of physics or even common whims of magic. Everything on the instrument served the purpose of the musician, and the cello also attempted to bend its surroundings to further that purpose. The acoustics of the room, the distance between the listener and the performer, such things were irrelevant. Complete control over the sound produced by the instrument was in the dragon's claws, with no sacrifice of quality. By some unspeakable magic or incomprehensible mechanism, the instrument dominated the area and subjugated all things to its purpose. That trait alone, that inherent assertion of supremacy, marked it as the creation of a dragon. The instrument was a more perfect rendition of the abstract ideal of a cello.

Even more impressive than the realization that such an instrument could exist was the music the dragon ripped from it. His playing was harsh and violent, every stroke of the bow merciless. The sounds that gushed forth were hard, unyielding, but rang with a touch of sorrow. Individual notes cracked stone and bent the twisted remains of the plants, while each movement sculpted the atrium in terrifying ways. Lattices that had once held plants turned to skeletal ribcages, capped with trios of strange skulls that drooled magma. Shoddy patches of wood turned to riveted plates of steel, each one etched with a different depiction of a triumphant dragon. The suite sounded like the death-song of an entire race, a lament and a battle cry, yet it was still beautiful in a strange way. She could certainly appreciate how difficult it was to play.

When the music swelled, she felt her mane and tail whip back as wind twirled around the atrium, spinning the floating rocks. There was raw power in his performance, and her heart quailed to think of what damage he could do if that power was loosed. But she could also sense the gaps in his playing. Little missed notes, and minor mistakes. The dragon was good, no doubt, but he was weak right now. He still had not fully emerged from the pit of magma. Her domitor had been right. Octavia wondered how the music might sound if he was truly at his best, then banished the thought. He was her enemy, and she knew what to do to enemies. If the dragon was weak she could take full advantage of his weakness and destroy him utterly. That was her job. Her duty. A small torrent of rocks fell from the ceiling above, breaking through the shield and crashing down near a few cultists. They scattered away, screaming in terror.

As the song drew to a close, the dragon opened his eyes. His tail poked above the lava, and waggled back and forth. It was just as skeletal as the rest of him. With a final flourish, he lifted his bow from his cello and bowed.

Scoffing Song applauded for all her hooves were worth, as did the cultists and guards. "Bravo! Bravo, wonderful! Well, that settles that, we've heard all we need to, now kill the mudpony."

The Carpathian snorted another gout of flame in her direction. "Be still. I was not performing for your pleasure." He yawned, scratched his back with his spiked tail, and smiled malevolently down at the challenger. "The stage is yours, little gray cellist. I have great expectations."

Octavia had already begun unpacking her cello. It was still in pristine condition, thanks to the well-made case designed to protect it against the mayhem of her adventures. This instrument was old and well-loved, but nowhere near as grand as the eldritch cello used by the dragon. While assembling her instrument she glanced up. By chance her eyes caught those of a gryphon staring down from a cracked window high above. He appeared frantic. She forced a smile and straightened her bow tie. Rollins is such a worrywart... but she was a little nervous as well. His concern was touching, and it was reassuring to know he had not thrown her at the problem to buy himself time to fly away. She was not expendable in his eyes, and that gave her a boost of confidence. Then she realized he was waving a claw upward, and when her eyes looked where he was pointing she noticed a crack slowly spreading across the ceiling high above. Instinct took over, and she slid herself and her instrument out of the way not a moment too soon. The ceiling groaned and a chunk fell free, smashing down not far from where she had been. Shaken but unbowed, Octavia stood upright on her hind legs and gripped her bow and cello firmly.

"Hmm, it seems that even without opposable thumbs, you little creatures find a way." The dragon patted his great gold cello, and smirked at her little wooden one. "Show me what passes for music amongst your misbegotten kind!"

Just as Octavia was about to begin, a cloud shifted in the sky high above. A beam of sunlight fell through the gap in the ceiling, somehow brighter than the hellish glow that filled the atrium, and spotlighted her. She felt a sense of calm, and knew that not only were her friends counting on her, something greater was too. Though she might fight ancient dragons, she was not alone. This was her part in Harmony, and she must play her part to the best of her ability.

"Well, that was quite excellent, old dragon." She smiled brightly. That little nap had rejuvenated her, and the journey through her mind had ultimately strengthened her resolve. It had been a long, hard struggle, but here she stood at the final battle. Everyone who mattered was watching. The dragon, Rollins, even Scoffing Song, all waited for her performance. Her domitor would see all of this as well, through her eyes the next time the vampire partook of her ghoul's blood. The cellist would not disappoint them. "But sit down against that rock right there, and let me show you how it is done."

Octavia played, all the years of her life flowing out through her cello. It was not her first time performing for high stakes, and she suspected it would not be the last. Every movement of her body was under tight control, every touch of the bow upon the strings just the way she wanted it. Perhaps her instrument was not a masterwork from an age of unimaginable advancements, but her discipline was ironclad. Her fetlocks felt almost weightless, one moving up and down the strings, the other back and forth with the bow. Her entire life had been preparing her for this moment. Each little tragedy and victory had shaped her into the mare she was today, the mare who was putting everything on the line to defend Equestria. The dragon's hungry stare was nothing compared to the way Vinyl would sometimes drool and giggle. The Daughter's cruel glare was pathetic compared to the utter lack of love in her mother's eyes. The stunned expressions on the faces of the cultist rabble were almost amusing. None of them even had the presence of mind to boo or chant, they merely stood with slack jaws.

All her life she had been surrounded by those who did not understand why she endured so much to play her music until they heard her put bow to cello. She had become accustomed to proving herself through her music to all who doubted her. Music had sustained her, had given her a means to provide for herself and enrich the lives of others. Her playing was how she had survived all those many years before Vinyl had healed her. Music was how the gray mare kept her sanity as she fought through night after night of ever worse horrors. The magic power of music that flowed through her heart was her advocate and aid. No, she was no unicorn, but this, the music she was playing here in this heart of heat and light, was the magic she had learned. The warm beam of sunlight from overhead widened, driving the red glow away from where she stood. Plants lost some of their orange tinge and began turning back to green. Cracks in the rocks sealed themselves. This place was full of mana, and mana could be tempted by music just as it could be channeled by hate and ritual.

Her case was simple, and she sang it through her cello. The world should belong to Harmony, not to dragons or ponies, rich or poor, vampires or mortals. So many things divided the world, and fostered hatred. Countless individuals clung to those differences and used hatred to amass power for themselves. The world such minds shaped was a sad, cruel place to live. There was a better way, a hard and long road that had no true end, but when one looked back along the path it was clear that it had been worth the journey. Those accidental traits that divided individuals could be overlooked, what mattered was the mind and the intent of the heart. These were the truths she told through her music. By application of these observations, pony society had flourished under Celestia's wings. This was the soul of the song she played, and she knew that even though she was surrounded by enemies, she did not play it for deaf ears. As she continued to perform, she saw tears forming in the eyes of some of the cultists, while others turned away. The music spoke to their hearts, drawing out feelings that they had long suppressed. It whispered without words that there was an absolute standard by which all are judged, pony, gryphon, or dragon, and forgiveness for sins if one is willing only to repent. That long road was a narrow one, but it was open to all. Many and wide were the paths that promised ease and greatness but led only to destruction.

The gray mare lost track of time, just as time lost track of her. It mattered not how long it took to play this suite, only that she needed to play it to the best of her abilities. This was not merely for her own soul, but so that all listening could hear and understand. Even in this warped landscape, where rocks floated and magma bubbled, music could change hearts. As she played, she had to let go of her own hatred. She had to let the anger she felt at Scoffing Song for invading her mind slip away, as well as what she held against the other cultists. None of that mattered now. No bullets flew here, no bodybags were needed. Hate only weighed her down. She was merely a mare playing a movement. All the room in her heart was filled with this sun-kissed music.

As she neared the conclusion, Octavia felt her body begin to ache. She had thrown herself so completely into the performance that sweat ran from her brow almost as though she was bleeding. This realization prompted a weary smile. Almost to the end, it is almost finished. Carry on, wayward mare. Peace will come once you have done your share. Either she would win, or she would lose, but she would perform this music to the best of her abilities. Just before the end, she saw a look of surprise fully settle upon the dragon's features, and he bowed his head as though admitting defeat. Octavia shut her eyes and focused on the finale. Nothing mattered except the song.

High above, the gryphon leaned against the window, his beak slightly open in shock. His brain struggled to comprehend the scene below. Not for lack of wanting it to be real, but because his healthy case of pessimism made it hard for him to accept such miracles. The dragon had bowed his head because he knew he had been beaten. Rollins ran a claw through his feathers and shook his head. "Well, I'll be a dodo's uncle... she actually did it." He pulled his shattered helmet back on and began to fiddle with the voxpack.

Scoffing Song looked up at the creature she had summoned with undisguised contempt. The dragon was bowing his head, all but conceding that this... this... interloper was greater than she was! She, Scoffing Song, the mare who was the entire reason he was even here! This mudpony who made that horrible racket with her cello was certainly not greater than a huge, mighty, powerful dragon! "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself..." The disgruntled unicorn whacked one of her gawping guards over the head and wrestled his spear out of his hooves, then with a glow of her horn she heaved it right at the gray cellist. The cult leader was unused to such crude labor, and her aim was off, but the spear still hit Octavia. Its pointed tip gashed her right front leg, pierced her side, and sent her spinning to the ground with a yelp of pain. Her cello and bow clattered down next to her, shattering the tapestry of sound she had weaved with her performance. Blood gushed out across the floor, soaking her clothes and spreading around her fallen instrument until it had almost trickled beyond the circle of sunlight.

"Ha!" Scoffing Song snickered. "That settles that. A mudpony with an instrument is no match for a unicorn with a weapon." She stamped her front hooves on the ground. Many of her cultists stirred as though roused from slumber. They began to look around or grunt. The power of the music that let them think clearly had been broken. Their leader had once more demonstrated that she was the dominant force, and they obediently fell back into their old habit of obedience. She smiled wide. "Now, with that noisy racket put down, let us return to matters of actual importance."
> Bastile (Part XXII): Le Cygne
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Blood, rich red blood, oozed across the floor. The grey mare lay still, spear jutting out of her body like a flagpole hoisted by some conquerer. Indeed, Scoffing Song wore the smug grin of a victor. She had finally rid herself of the troublesome pest. Now, if she could only keep this dotard of a dragon focused, all would feel her wrath! First the city, then Equestria, and then the world! The unicorn turned back toward the lava pit and opened her mouth, ready to continue her conquest, but he spoke first. "Fool!" Smoke billowed from his nostrils. "What have you done?"

"I removed a thorn from my side, and a distraction from your sight," she answered. "Now, are you ready to focus on matters of true import? We'll need to review a list of important targets before you start rampaging about, and I'll need to rally my followers for our march on City Hall." By taking the seat of government while the dragon provided a massive distraction and eliminated the true threats, she would be able to install herself as a proper ruler. By the time the military or anypony else arrived, she would have increased the ranks of her cultists at least tenfold with weak-willed citizens. Even if the city fell, she and the dragon could fly away to a distant land and plot another attack. She would still have her power from the great sacrifice of the city. The plan made plenty of sense, in her head at least. "Oh, don't frown like that, this is all your fault anyway for losing focus!"

The atrium rumbled, and cracks splintered across the floor. Several of the twisted plants crumbled to ash. He clawed at the air and growled. "You imbecile! If she had won, I would have wormed through the words of my deal!" He had never said when he would discorporate, the immediacy of the act had only been implied. The gray pony had at least been entertaining and screeched less than the one in that scrunched-up dress-thing who had summoned him. He would probably have put her in a little titanium cage so she could play the golden cello whenever he wished. The dragon had to start rebuilding his horde in this world anyway. A pony who could actually play pleasant music was almost as good as a jewel-encrusted crown, and just as edible. "But you have harmed her, you have interfered, and now I must forfeit!"

"So?" Scoffing Song rubbed the side of her head, wishing the ache in her skull would fade. Small wonder the dragons were extinct if they got worked up over such things. "You have forfeited a petty squabble," replied the cult leader. "But I am the one who summoned you. Your contract is with me, not her. I am the one to whom you are bound by your words, and if you do not keep your word to me you shall face banishment back into the Realms Beyond." She stomped back up the rock outcropping, ignored how the magma had begun to rise, and glared at him. "I am the one who spent years of my life figuring out how to revive an ancient Carpathian so that I might learn the secrets of immortality and receive power unending. So far all you have done is wade in lava and saw on that oversized lump of gold!" She raised her voice so that she could be heard over the howling winds. "Give me what I summoned you here for!"

"You think too highly of yourself," answered the dragon. He clenched his fists, and many of the cultists ducked for cover. "A Carpathian's word is his bond, and his bonds define his strength and power. By such bonds, those like myself have endured for aeons while our weaker-minded kin died or slept away their greatness!" Those strange eyes, filled with points and slivers instead of irises and pupils, glowed brighter. "Did you think that because you summoned me, you would be the only one I judged worthy of such a contract?"

"What?" shouted Scoffing Song. She had read all the old texts she could find, that was indeed how this worked. As the summoner, she shared a special connection with the ancient creature. Nopony, not even her, was crazy enough to summon a dragon without first studying the subject at length. "I was the one who sacrificed to return you to this world! Why would you even consider a contract with another?"

"For the challenge, you meddlesome wench!" roared the dragon. Another chunk of the ceiling fell, breaking through the protective bubble and crashing into the ground. The unicorns who had been giving their all to power the shield finally gave up and ran for cover. "For the cause of the skillful combination of sounds such that they are both beautiful in form and able to invoke in the listeners thoughts and feelings otherwise unconveyable!" The golden cello and bow in his claws shrunk slowly. "I answered a challenge posed by another musician, and gambled this temporary form. But now you, the one who summoned me, have interfered! Because of you," he paused for a deep breath, then bellowed, "I am undone!"

"But... but... that's not... that's not how it's supposed to go!" Scoffing Song had raised a front leg to shield herself from the heat of his breath. She could not believe what she was hearing, yet she could not deny what she was seeing. Magma rose up in swirling waves, slopping higher and higher around the dragon's scales, drawing him back into the pit. He was being claimed once more by the place whence he had come, that much was obvious even to one without any arcane knowledge. She stamped a hoof and shrieked at him, while he only glared back with anger and contempt. "No, no, this can't be happening! I want my power!"

"Power, power, power," sneered the dragon. His strange eyes simmered and swirled, each orange slit burning like a pyre. "What use would you have for power? Why should I trust you with anything, since you could not even trust me to handle my own contests of skill?" He waved a claw as he sunk deeper into the magma. "You ponies are nothing more than food. Wicked, shortsighted, treacherous food."

"Shut up! Give me your power, and I will summon you again!" Scoffing Song waved a leg toward the cowering cultists. They had hunkered into cover wherever they could find it, behind rocks, beneath benches, and even inside planting pots. "You want food? I'll feed you until you burst! Give me immortality, give me what I called you here for, and I'll get you what you want!"

"What I want..." The dragon laughed as a wave of molten rock washed up over his back. Many glowing sigils on his scales had begun to fade, and he looked ever more gaunt with each passing second. The lattices of bone that his music had converted began to crumble. "What I want is something to break the monotony of eternity. Something new, something fresh, something to please me. I want glorious things to horde all to myself, that others might envy my collection." He snorted. "Here I found a pony with the courage and the skill to challenge me to a duel of music, and you... you threw a spear into her." His tail was below the magma now, as was most of his body. All that remained was his head and arms. The Great Old Dragon growled, and clacked his talons together. "Do you know how rare that is? How others would look upon me with greed and covet such a thing, if I had it in my horde?"

"I'll get you a mockingbird!" replied the unicorn. "Gimmie the power! Gimmie my immortality!" She was leaning over the edge of the rock now, tugging at one of the horns on his head with her magic in a feeble attempt to keep him from slipping away.

"Power... immortality." He grunted. "And you call yourself a voluptuary. It seems there truly is nothing new upon this disk of rock." A long, low sigh caused a cloud of smoke to erupt from his nostrils. Magma ceased to flow from the mouths of the skulls his music had conjured. "Yet... this brief voyage from beyond shall not be a complete waste. You shall indeed feed me, my little pony." His claws rose from the lava and snapped together like a cage around the rock outcropping. Chunks of granite tumbled from his grip, but it was clear by the way he cupped his claws that he had left more than enough room for a pony to survive. "With your own flesh and blood!"

A terrified scream, a greedy roar, and then the dragon submerged completely beneath the rising magma. The howling wind rose to a fever pitch, and odd spronnnging noises that sounded as though someone was beating a clockmaker to death with his own creations spread from the pit. In the blink of an eye, the magma had turned to granite, and the floating rocks had fallen to the ground. Gone was the hellish glow and the howl of wind. Silence filled the room, deafening with its suddenness. Sunlight trickled in from gaps in the roof, filling the atrium with warm, happy light. It was over. Guards and cultists trembled behind fallen rocks, overturned carts, or whatever other cover they could find. Some were hiding in the ruined plants, trying to cover themselves, and others were scampering toward exits. One yanked open a door and found himself staring down the barrel of a lasrifle.

From high above came the sound of shattering glass. Cultists who looked up saw a black-armored gryphon soaring down. Well, less soaring and more falling with style, especially given how one of his wings bent oddly. Those who did not look up saw him when he landed hard on the atrium floor and began roaring orders. "Get flat on the deck and put your hooves on the back of your head! Yes, all four of 'em if you're that flexible! Do it now!" Operatives pushed in from surrounding entrances, corralling the terrified cultists before they could escape and uprooting those who had taken cover. Their screams were drowned out by the bark of commands amplified by the Operatives' voxboxes. After a few frantic moments, all the criminals were huddled together. Their captors began stripping them of weapons, armor, artifacts, and any other worldly possessions. None of the cultists resisted. Their will to fight had been drained by the horror of proximity to that dragon. Whatever these ponies could do to them must be less terrible than what that thing had just done to their leader. They were wrong on that count, but the Operatives saw no reason to rectify their delusions. Yet. After issuing a few orders to the Ivory teams, the gryphon holstered his odd green sidearm and half-climbed, half-ran across the jagged hunks of what used to be a smooth granite floor until he was at the side of the still gray mare. A pool of blood surrounded her. He hissed softly at the sight, and wished that his helmet's visor was still intact. It would have hid his expression.

The spear had punched straight through her armored uniform and penetrated deep within her body. She lay face-down on the floor. Rollins pulled her cello and bow to one side, smearing blood across the granite as he did, then rolled her to check the wound. He reached for his medical kit and found it empty. Out of body bags too. He had used his last one on the pegasus. A glance at the remaining Operatives told him they likely were out as well. The cellist's eyes were shut, and her face relaxed. She looked almost peaceful. The gryphon reached down, grabbed the spear, and yanked it out of the earth pony with a quick shlurp. She screamed in pain and kicked him right in the front, sending the spear flipping through the air and the gryphon clattering to the ground a few meters away. He coughed a few times and tasted blood. There was a fresh crack in his armor, and something else inside him now felt mushier than it should. He struggled upright, then grinned. Alive. Good. Rollins drug himself back over to the gray mare.

"Asset," he coughed. Pain jolted across his ribs. "Has the Lady Bon Hadescream given you permission to die?"

Octavia, eyes now open, shook her head and clutched her bleeding side. Tears leaked from her eyes. She was tired, so very tired. The spear had not been part of the plan, and she had felt so very weak when it suddenly pierced her side. Everything had dissolved into noise and pain. She did not know if the tears were from pain or joy, all she knew was that she was so very tired. Her eyes met Rollins', staring up at the grimacing gryphon through his shattered visor. In the distance, an Operative had pinned a guard to the ground while another was peeling off the cultist's leather "armor". Cold... she was so cold inside, but the sunlight was so warm.

"Then you'd better not, or I'll have a tall stack of paperwork to crunch through." He reached down, dug the only bandage out of her small first aid kit, and helped her keep pressure on the wound. It already seemed to be closing. Her unnaturally boosted metabolism had been working hard since the moment the spear punched into her. "You did well. Now, I need you to stay with me, okay?" Rollins locked eyes with her. "That little pinprick wasn't enough to take you down, right? Not after all this. You faced down the mighty, and you won. Just stay awake, and everything will be fine." His head swiveled toward the other Operatives. "Hey! Tell the cult-heads that if any of 'em knows where some gauze is, we'll overlook some of the minor crimes! But they all stay in that huddle, no exceptions!"

Octavia smiled up at the ceiling. She had done it. She had finished the fight. The city was saved, the cultists were stopped, and the operatives would have a safe place to rest. An ancient dragon had been banished, a cult leader struck down before her followers, and victory claimed. Yes, she had done well. The weight of the past two weeks seemed to catch up with her, especially the last twenty-four hours. She felt very tired. Very, very tired. The gray mare heard something inside Rollins' helmet whisper in soothing tones, "automatic medical system engaged. Internal bleeding detected. Local tourniquet applied." His eye twitched as though something had just jabbed him. For some reason, she thought that was funny, but she could not laugh. It would not be proper to laugh after he had been such a good audience. "Major fracture detected. Morphine administered. Warning, morphine supply low. Replenish reservoir soon." He groaned. Her lips twisted into a smile despite her best efforts. Everything just seemed so humorous. Wait... had she kicked him? It was all a bit of a blur right now... "User vital signs critical. Seek medical attention."

Octavia yawned. It hurt, but everything sort of hurt at the moment. Rollins looked tired too. Everypony was tired, it had been a long day. Bones were crackling down off the walls. The building still seemed sturdy enough to live in, though. Some of the cracks had gone away while she was playing her music. Londinium bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down... Londinium bridge is falling down, my fair Princess...

"Asset, keep those eyes open." The gryphon pulled off his helmet and spat a glob of blood and mucus onto the floor nearby. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, but his grip on her bloody bandage was firm. One of the Operatives went scampering off toward a doorway, likely in search of medical supplies. Supplies. That was a funny word. Vinyl would think so, at least. "Do you hear me? You just did something I've never seen before, and I've seen a lot. Watching that was like seeing a tale out of the old legends. You're amazing, and..." His beak moved, but whatever he said was swept away by a surging, throbbing sensation in her ears that faded after a moment. She saw his tail flicking nervously from side to side. "...I mean that."

The cellist smiled up at him and tried to say something, but the words would not come. Victory, that was what mattered. Victory, and music, and sunlight.

"Strings, don't try to talk, but stay with me." His words came from far away. "That spear popped one of your lungs at the least. It'll heal, just like last time, just stay... awake... please..."

Everything was getting foggy, as though the world was coated with syrup. She could have sworn she saw the sunlight that fell through the holes in the ceiling smile, somehow, even though that was preposterous. Something else preposterous was that she had not killed anypony in this final battle. Music, not violence, had carried the day. Yes, there had been death along the way, but bullets alone would not have won this fight. Her father had been... wrong. Demonstrably so. Not my rifle, but my cello.

"Octavia!"

And then she slept.
> Bastile (Part XXIII): Finale - Awakening
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	She did not dream. One moment she was sprawled on the granite floor of the atrium, the next she smelled axle grease. Octavia blinked her eyes open and looked about. She lay atop a soft, but old, mattress on a hard concrete floor. The AFV sat nearby, next to a derelict lorry that looked to have been recently stripped for parts. At the far end of the room was a large metal garage door. This looked like some kind of shipping and receiving area, perhaps a loading bay in the hotel's better days. It was certainly on the ground floor. The upper levels must have been destabilized by the dragon's conjuring and the music. On the other side of the room, she saw injured Operatives laid out on similar mattresses. They all looked comfortable enough, and their medi-gel and bandages appeared fresh. A clunk drew her attention back to the AFV, where a gryphon seemed to be fiddling with something. Bandages covered large portions of his body, but he was still moving. As soon as she tried to sit up, he noticed and motioned for her to lay back down. After another clunk, the gryphon wiped some grease off his claws and plodded over to her side.

"You're awake. How about that." He glanced over her blanket-covered form, tail flicking from side to side. "How are you feeling?"

"Status green," she replied, trying to get out of the makeshift bed. "I should-"

 "Whoa, easy there. Easy." The gryphon held out a claw to stop her. "If anyone's earned some downtime, it's you."

Octavia slumped back and tugged at the soft blanket. It must have come from the hotel's stockpiles. She wondered if it had suffered use by the cultists in some act of debauchery, then decided she was better off not knowing. "I... I am tired."

"Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings." He tapped his claws together and looked away. A worried frown appeared on his beak. "Uh... can you tell me your name?"

The grey mare raised an eyebrow. Her stomach grumbled, hungry for more fuel. She felt calm and sensed no danger nearby, but the gryphon seemed nervous. "Rollins? What is wrong?" When a worried grimace appeared on his face, she rolled her eyes. "No, no, I know. Rollins is your name. Mine is Octavia." He heaved a sigh of relief and grinned. This confused her even more. "What is going on? You have that expression upon your face, the one you only get when you are nervous or excited. And... why are you calm all of a sudden? I thought you would be terrified that ARGUS might come down on us at any moment." She sat upright again and glanced about, noting the cracks in the walls. "That dragon did raise quite a ruckus, and made a mess of the building. Somepony must have reported something."

A wry smirk crossed his beak as he sat back on his haunches. "Well, I would be... if I didn't have sterling evidence that ARGUS is using some rather nasty drugs to aid in the creation of those shambling pale vampire-freaks we've been having trouble with lately."

Octavia blinked hard. She opened her mouth, then closed it with a smile and motioned with a hoof for him to continue. Paperwork, analysis, and communications were some of his stronger points. She had occasionally seen him around the Manehattan branch before her... well, before that night. Never for long, often a few weeks between sightings, always moving quickly, and usually carrying a package or documents. In retrospect, it made sense that he was clearing low-level tasks and transporting sensitive material for The Lady. He often did such things, flying all across Equestria on a moment's notice to take care of the smallest detail. Manehattan had been very important to The Organization. The Lady seemed to trust him implicitly, but given his upbringing that was not surprising. The gray mare settled back to listen.

"The cultists were growing some really weird stuff here, and selling it to shady buyers. After your little performance in the atrium, the ones who survived were more than willing to talk." He grinned and flexed his wings, then let out a ghastly groan and slumped down to the floor. "Ouch... uh... some of the Operatives had knocked out a few other cultists in the hallways too. I'm not the only one who knows a little less-than-lethal. We interrogated them in separate groups, and I cross-referenced what they had to say. Once you discard the standard nutball ranting and add in the remains of the plants in the atrium, roof greenhouses, and other grow-labs they have in the building, a picture starts to form." He straightened his spine a little and rubbed at one of his bandages. It had been applied very skillfully. "I took what I know about recent ARGUS movements in the city, plus a bit of detective work through the cult leader's documents. Her guards gave us a little trouble at first, but they broke easy. Especially after they saw what you did to that one guy."

Octavia's cheeks reddened slightly. "Ah... which one?"

"The one you left cuffed to the bathtub faucet with the soaked towel still tied around his neck." A sly grin twisted one side of Rollins' beak. Octavia nervously tapped her front hooves together. "Anyway, when you add it all together, the evidence adds up to a firm supply chain through underworld contacts that leads straight to this city's ARGUS base. Given what we know about the bleachies, it's a mighty suspicious set of circumstances. Most of those compounds don't have any innocent applications."

"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked. All that must have taken quite a bit of time. Her injury felt much better, now she had occasion to think about it. In fact, once she glanced under the sheets at the bandage, it seemed she was completely healed. 

"A while. But you've been running hard these past two weeks, and that spear-hit wasn't the only nasty wound you've taken recently." He reached into a pouch, produced a small capsule, and dry-swallowed it. "You... uh... you went cold for a little while. I think the spear sliced your heart." The gryphon closed his beak and looked away again. "I've seen you go cold before to regenerate, but..." But he had seen too many friends die, and she still seemed so very mortal whenever he looked at her. "I'm... whenever that happens to you, I'm always worried you won't come back as yourself." The unspoken or that you won't come back at all hung in the air. Rollins coughed. Anyone with unveiled eyes could tell that the leech was a paranormal entity, a real monster. Octavia was just a mare with well-honed skills and a body that could take a beating. "An... anyway, your heart restarted on its own a little bit later, and you've been comatose but healing fine since then. I gave orders not to wake you, because you needed the rest."

"What about you? You look like you could use some rest yourself."

Rollins shrugged, which caused him to wince again. "Um... yeah. The drugs match traces found by Bon Hadescream science teams in the remains of past 'bleachies'. So," he held up a claw and began ticking off items on his talons. "We have drugs that are found in the dead monsters, and a former hotel full of cultists amoral enough to use some freaky magic to grow said drugs. Add in the supply chain running through the more arcane-leaning of this city's criminal element, and you have more than enough to warrant an investigation."

"Then... would it not be in ARGUS' best interests to storm in here and silence us?"

"It would." Rollins smirked again. "If I hadn't handed all this off to a third party. Y'know, to ensure that there's no bad blood biasing the findings."

Octavia smiled. "The Educarchy."

"Bingo. ARGUS will be too busy blustering those pyromaniacs' inquiries to bother with a bunch of worn-out Operatives in a crumbling building. Plus, if they did come storming in here to kill us, it'd just prove their guilt in the Educarchy's books." He rolled his eyes. "We'd be martyrs. Hooray."

She let out a long sigh, shifted atop the mattress, and felt a weight slide off her mind. "Well done, Rollins. But... now that I think about it, that doesn't seem to fit the pattern." Octavia tapped her chin with a hoof. "When Vinyl and I were ambushed while clearing that Elderati Council meeting, the one who spoke through the radio did not sound like an ARGUS leader at all."

"Good catch." His head bobbed. "Right now, I don't care. This evidence gets ARGUS off our backs and makes them somepony else's problem." He tapped a small messenger bag. "I kept duplicates. The Lady Bon Hadescream can pore over them when we get back to Central. Right now, I'm happy to be alive." The gryphon winced again, and rubbed one of his bandages.

"And we are, thanks to your quick thinking." She looked over at the other injured ponies. Most lay still, but a few shifted restlessly in pain-addled sleep. Several Operatives had likely died on this mission as well, in addition to all those lost in the explosion. It felt almost as if that had been years ago, what with the strange way stress stretched the mind's perception of time. Octavia did not dismiss their deaths, especially since she remembered her own hopeless fight against a vampire on that night in the Concertorium, but... but she had ensured their sacrifices were not in vain. That was all she could do.

He shrugged. "I just shuffle paperwork. You're the one who defeated an ancient dragon." After a yawn, he shook himself. Too many hours without sleep and too much thinking was messing him up. It was reassuring to have Octavia awake again. She was somepony he could count on, somepony worth putting up with the leech for. "You even outdid my first special ops team." Not that he or any of the other kids had known they would be on a "special op" when they set out on that doomed mission, but this hotel was supposed to be a simple breach-and-clear too. It was a fortunate thing indeed that Carpathian dragon bones were hard to come by. He had recovered them from the center of the pit, and safely stored them in only the finest burlap sacks available for transport back to headquarters. He would have preferred hazmat containers, but that wasn't gonna happen. Telling the Educarchy about them was also out of the question. They would rightly have demanded possession of the bones, since the Bon Hadescream forces were nowhere near strong enough to properly protect them given the amount of damage they could do. However, today's ally was tomorrow's competitor at a government budget meeting, and those bones would make a nice line-item.

The dragon's remains had burned hot against his gloved claws. They were older than old, the remains of a creature that had lived in a bygone, brutal era and ascended. Such artifacts were temptations, promising the world to any unwary enough to trust them. They were not meant for the sane, and the runes etched into the ancient bones would probably have shattered his mind if he had stared at them. Rollins had been careful to allow nopony else near the bones. He had heard the faint whispers as he wrapped them in burlap and stowed them safely. For how many years had he studied all manner of arcane things at Pendulum? Surely he was wise enough to control the dragon, to use such power for good. Though he said he loved Equestria and revered Celestia, did he not secretly long to conquer them as all gryphons should? Silly little kitten, playing the meek courier instead of seizing the throne he deserves. Such thoughts had entered him, swirled about, and passed through. Where they passed, only oblivion remained. Below the oblivion, beneath the sands of his mind, his claws had worked steadily until all the bones were wrapped and stowed. Above the oblivion, carried on the winds of his mind, the mantras beaten into him at Pendulum had preserved his sense of self. When the work was complete, the sky and sand had met, filling the void where the foreign thoughts had passed. To say he was immune would be inaccurate. It was simply very, very difficult to indoctrinate one who had already accepted a thorough washing of the brain in the shadow of the Spire.

Octavia saw his speech slow as he began staring off into space. When she waved a hoof in front of his beak, his eyes lazily followed. She sighed quietly. The gryphon led by example, as he had been taught. Operatives, like that pegasus girl who had infiltrated with him, respected him not because of his rank or his connections, but because he never gave anything less than his best. She just wished that he would ease back on the throttle sometimes, or he was going to work himself into an early grave. Perhaps... perhaps that was what he wanted.

"Plus, you did it all without attracting the Thetas." Rollins rubbed his eyes and shivered again. The dragon's roar echoed through his mind, much the same as the one he had heard many years ago. He saw the lifeless green glow, heard the grind of metal against metal. They came, shrouded by the mists, unchanging, unrelenting, uncaring. Few in number, almighty in power. His eyes glazed over as he remembered the message that had crackled through the broken voxpack he had carried on his back, groaned in a language he should not have been able to comprehend, OBELISK, OBELISK, do not answer. Every word evenly spaced apart, every syllable ground out slowly and clearly in a screeching, hissing, howling metallic voice. Then came, Quebec, quebec, november, golf, golf, victor. Authentication hotel epsilon three. Unit says again... Four times the hissing voice had called to OBELISK, four times it had repeated the nonsensical phrases. His squadmates had heard only static. Data follows. Then came the noises. Words that had wobbled in his young mind mixed amidst warbling sounds that had made his skull ring. The rest of his squad thought that his improvised repairs were simply acting up. They were still focused on the army of cultists surrounding a fully-manifested dragon. Suddenly, blessedly, the noises had ceased. A second later, PAWTUCKET, out. Then they had emerged, seeming utterly alien when seen stalking across the swamp. Neat glowing ties, suits made of chrome, eyes hollow and dull, strange alligator-skinned cases clutched in their off-mandibles, hair only sparking wires, groaning Cease and Desist...

"The what?"

The gryphon blinked back to reality. He looked down at the gray mare, who was regarding him suspiciously. "Uh... you're not cleared for that." 

She sighed, then reached up to pat an unbandaged part of his shoulder. "Rollins, you need to sleep. You are beginning to hallucinate again. I know that look in your eyes."

"Yeah, need to do that." He automatically reached for the small pouch again, then he checked himself and forced his claw back onto the floor. "Look... you saved the day. You came through, and did something only you were capable of. Because of you, a lot of ponies are gonna go to sleep tonight never knowing how close they came to death and worse." The gryphon took a deep breath, and smiled. "Nice performance, Octavia."

"Thank you, Rollins." She looked over at the other injured Operatives. One waved weakly, and she waved back. "I am grateful that The Organization accepted me."

"And Vinyl too!" cried out an all-too-familiar voice...
> Bastile (Part XXIV): Finale - Cold Numbers, Hot Food
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The gryphon groaned as the pale mare bounded into the room, red trenchcoat fluttering, and rump-bumped him out of her way. Then she adjusted her purple shades and smiled down at Octavia. "How ya doin', Octy? I heard you brought the shake to these poor fools! Sorry I wasn't around to witness ya doin' it." She held her front hooves together in a curious way, as though trying to represent an engine block. "But from the way the cultists are muttering to one another, I'd say you still had a kickin' audience. Schoolin' a dragon has got to be worth some fire-tributes."

"It is good to see you, Vinyl." The earth pony smiled up at her friend. "But... how are you out of your barrel? Was I really unconscious for that long?"

"Naaaah. Beakie here," she hugged the resisting gryphon. Something cracked. His eyes bulged and his beak opened in a silent scream. "Gathered up a bunch of flesh and dumped it into my container. Yum-yum! I always knew he liked me."

He gasped for air, then protested, "it was a strategic decision." Vinyl loosened her grip a bit, and he flopped to the floor. "The Lady Bon Hadescream would have ordered it, if she had been here. Prisoner control, facility security, not to mention casualty recovery and prevention." The officer pulled himself upright and glared at the vampire, then glanced at the gray mare. "Besides, I had to interrogate her about the explosion."

"And I'm innocent." Vinyl tilted down her purple shades and tried to put on a guiltless expression. "Ooooh, that reminds me. Kitchen-guy is a fan of me, but who isn't, right? And apparently of you as well." She reached into her trenchcoat, produced something large wrapped in tin foil, and waggled it in front of her ghoul's nose. "Here ya go. Tzatziki-sum'tin and grilled veg inside a wrap." It smelled delicious. Octavia reached out and reverently took the food, then unwrapped one end. The scent of grilled mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, and onions, with just a hint of lemon and the earthy firmness of olive oil, filled her senses. "He called it a... a gimmie-yo, I think. I've had 'em before, they're awesome."

"The correct pronunciation is 'gyro', the gy makes a sort of ji sound." And it was delicious. She tried to eat in as dignified a manner as possible, but her growling stomach soon compelled her to take ravenous bites out of the wonderful, wonderful food.

"Yeah, so I'm not just innocent, I'm totally a hero." Vinyl grinned even wider. "ARGUS wanted us out, so they put a jumping spider-bomb in the crate and had a kill-team on standby for when the building went boom. If I hadn't opened the crate, somepony else would have died at the center of that blast." She smiled at the gryphon, who was struggling to breathe so he could grumble. "Aren't you glad you fed me all that raw meat?"

"Mhere..." The gray mare blushed and swallowed. Not until she had bitten into the wrap did she realize how truly hungry she was. Her body had exhausted most of its reserves regenerating itself, and was now crying out for more fuel. "Where did the raw meat come from?" Octavia asked. Both of them just stared at her. The vampire winked. "Oh. Oh. Oh, I see..."

"Yeah, you killed a bunch of ponies while I was napping! I'm super-proud." The vampire hugged her friend. "Beakie here drug most of their bodies downstairs, hauled my barrel out of the armored-fun-vee, and dumped in all the juicy bits." Vinyl smiled her toothy grin. "I think he poured in some sodium hypochlorite and hemlock too, but I'm sure that was just an accident. After my meal, I was up and about, rallying these poor, misguided cultists to my banner." She snickered. "They had this whole top-down model for their cult, can you believe it? It was like some four-year-old had read a political science book. All based around some "Great Glow" doomsday prophecy from their leader, and "inner sparks" that amounted to justification for anything they wanted to do... as long as they obeyed the leader." The DJ adjusted her red hat. "Total tyrant-against-the-system setup. Naturally, I had to educate them on proper anarcho-capitalism and mob-based rule via consent of the governed, using my fan club as an example."

"I... if I recall correctly, when you explained that to me, it seemed to revolve around everypony buying your albums, shirts, lanyards, and posters." Octavia took another big bite.

"Yalp," confirmed the gryphon. "That's about how things went this time as well. I don't know how, but she turned the atrium into a concert stage complete with a merchandise booth."

"Fight the power!" yelled the unicorn. "With the might of commerce and music!" This caused the gryphon to clasp both claws over his face and whimper softly. "It was a ton of fun. Beakie and I had a real good-cop, evil-cop thing going on. I was the good one, of course."

"Oh?" The gray mare asked curiously.

"Yup. I was the one telling everypony that yes, I am the real Vinyl Scratch, and I can drop the sick sounds to prove it." She patted her trusty headphones. "He was the one blathering on about all the boring stuff." Her voice dropped to a gruff impersonation of the gryphon's. "You are all guilty of high treason, sedition, possession of artifacts of mass destruction, conspiracy to assassinate elected officials by forbidden arcane means, unlawful summoning of Greater Forces, something-something-something I don't speak legal-wordflubbery, production and distribution of illicit drugs grown by use of forbidden arcane means..." Her voice trailed off, and she glanced over at the gryphon. "By the way, are any of those sweet chems still sitting around? I am totally willing to take one for the team and test to see if they're the real astroturf, if you know what I'm sayin'." She nudged him with an elbow. "Eh? Eh?"

Rollins only whimpered louder.

"So while I'm rollin' the good times and setting up for a jaw-dropping show... thanks for saturating that whole place with magic by the way, it made things way easier," she winked at her friend. "Good ol' Lieutenant Fun Police here and his troop of black-armored intimidators were standing around looking mean. He was rattling off all their crimes, and then he pretty much just went all," she threw back her trenchcoat for dramatic effect, "I am the laaaaw! The verdict is death, to be carried out immediately!" She held up a hoof as though it was a laspistol. "Pew, pew, pew! And there's anodda one fer ya ugly mug! Court's adjourned, creep!" The vampire sat back on her haunches and waved her hooves. "Then I had to tell him no, no, we're not gonna shoot all these ponies, because they understand what they were doing was wrong. But he wouldn't listen..."

The gryphon cut his eyes over to the gray mare. She nodded silently, showing that she understood Vinyl's tale was only tangentially related to actual reality.

"...and then after I clotheslined him, I grabbed him and slammed him down onto the mat, and all the crowd chanted 'spinebreaker!' Next..."

It was a very entertaining story, but most of Octavia's attention was focused on the very delicious food in her hooves.

"...they elected me their Queen, but I said 'No, for nopony but Celestia deserves that title, and even she rejected it long ago'..."

Over on the other side of the bay, a few of the wounded Operatives glanced at one another and grinned. If nothing else, the Asset was funny.

"...and I had to burn that throne room upstairs, which was a real waste but I ain't gonna put up with that stinky incense..."

"She has actually been a very great help," the gryphon admitted quietly to the gray mare. "The cultists listen to her and follow her directions. I think most of them are trustworthy now, they've seen the results of their actions. That can have a very powerful effect on the mind, even a warped one. Also, just to be on the safe side, I took blood samples from all of them." Trust, but verify. He had photographs and prints too. Paperwork made the world go 'round. "They can run, but they can't hide, not if we put out an APB through the normie police."

"...and then it was rock 'n' roll all night, party every day!" The vampire pumped a hoof in the air. "My three-meter tall speakers blasting sizzlin' hot wubs into their brains, lights, improvised pyrotechnics, dry ice fog, awwwyeeeah! All that would turn anypony back to the side of truth, justice, and the Equestrian Way." She rolled her shoulders. "Somepony get me a carrot dog, extra mustard! And a monster truck!"

"I'm... very glad you are awake once more," the gryphon said to the gray mare, while the pale unicorn posed. "Very glad."

"Did you really give her hemlock?" the gray mare asked softly. His tail flicked nervously from side to side in response.

"So, to sum up that heroic epic, Beakie threatened to kill them all and explained why, because of some really old laws, it's totally legal for Operatives to do that. I told 'em they'd be okay as long as they swore off all that bad stuff and promised to listen to the Operatives, and then I knocked them flat with pure sound." She grinned wide. "Awwyeeeah, it was awesome. Ooh, that reminds me, who do I bill?"

"Bill?" the gryphon leaned back and glared at her with one eye. Was he hallucinating all this?

"Yeah, I mean, a DJ-P0N3 concert ain't cheap. All these cultists are pretty much bankrupt because of their communal style of living, and I already soaked all the bits out of 'em that I could with that merch booth. So... somepony owes me a lot of bits for a short-notice concert in a challenging environment." She pushed her purple shades up her muzzle. "I'm thinking seven figures, lots of nines, plus expenses. Costly, I know, but definitely worth it. You now have an army of totally loyal headbanging ponies who are blaring my tunes as loud as they can all over this dive. That's priceless." Vinyl shrugged. "There's some things money can't buy, I know, but for everything else..." She saw the expression on the gryphon's face. It was one he had learned from The Lady Bon Hadescream. The vampire grinned wide, just as her ghoul had when taunting Scoffing Song before that musical duel. "There's Marestercard."

Steam appeared to be venting from the gryphon's ears. He clamped his beak together and counted to ten, but before he could respond the vampire appeared to lose interest and turned back to the gray mare.

"I'm sad I missed your cello duel, though. From the way Beakie tells it, you should have warned that son of a gun once, you're the best that's ever been!"

"Not quite," the cellist said humbly. "I merely exploited a weakness and prayed that would be enough to tip the scales. And... it is blurry, but I think my plan would have failed anyway, if I heard correctly."

"Naaah, no way. You don't make dumb mistakes, Octy. That's my job!" Vinyl laughed. "Right, Beakie?"

Rollins took a deep breath, scooted out of the vampire's reach, and coughed. "You got the job done, Strings. Nopony else could have. Be proud of your abilities." He waved over at the injured Operatives. "They're alive because of you. Those cult-heads, who don't deserve it, are alive because of you." With a nod toward Vinyl, he added, "she's mobile because of you too. Yeah, taking a spear in the side from that ugly unicorn in the nightgown wasn't part of your plan, but that wound up working out pretty well. You punched her in the pride, and that pushed her over the edge. Because of you, we live to fight another day. That's a win in my book, and anything else can wait for the debrief back at Central."

"Yup, there's gonna be medals all around," Vinyl promised. "Medals, celebrations, feasts, concert tours, movie deals, action figures, inspirational posters, little kids wanting to be 'just like you' when they grow up..."

Octavia munched her wrap while her friend continued to babble. Finally, Rollins cut her off.

"We'll get a trip to the showers if we're lucky," said the gryphon. "Then I'll be back here with an administrative restructuring team, and you two will be off on another assignment. While you were running around wowing the cult-heads, I planned transport getting us and the wounded back to Central with the dragon bones. Fortunately the railroads are still independent ground."

"They could hardly be otherwise," the gray mare said quietly after swallowing. "But you were worried before that we might not be safe even there."

"Not when we were running scared, no." The gryphon tried to hold back a yawn. "ARGUS could have ambushed us on the way, or even tried something stupid aboard the train. We're higher profile now, though. I was able to swing by the train station with a few Imparters watching my rear, and convince the pipe-smoking stallion who works in the unmarked travel office." As much as he liked the train ponies, he wished they were able to speak more casually. A lit pipe was a lit pipe, not a signal flare to great inspirations, and a request for aid was not a petition for rolling armor, pulled by the motor of the world. Then again, the Organization had their own odd turns of phrase. "They'll get us back to Central, dragon bones and all."

"The iron bands that bind the land," agreed Vinyl. "Ah, oppression. Always makes my skin crawl."

Rollins rolled his eyes. "Order is what makes your skin crawl, vampire. The railroads hold Equestria together, moving freight and ponies across the land with speed and regularity. Every line of track, every suspension bridge, and every steaming train is a testament to what can be accomplished without your kind's interference. That is why you feel uncomfortable every time you ride a train." He suddenly yawned, then shook himself and poked a bandage. The pain helped him focus. "Locally-based operatives will remain to hold this hotel. Educarchy attention means that they're as safe as it gets around here." He rubbed his eyes. "Most of the storefronts are intact, as are the stockpiles. We can set up a new station, coordinate the employees from there. Hopefully most of the noncombat employees went to ground in time. ARGUS probably didn't have a chance to go on a city-wide murdering spree, especially now that the Educarchy is on to them. Stuff like that usually attracts the normie police as well. So... we should have this city back up to full productivity within a month... maybe." Rollins sighed. "One city... another month... and there's a lot of others on fire right now." He looked down at the floor, turning over data in his mind and not liking the results any more than the last time he ran the numbers. It was depressing enough from his perspective, he could only imagine how horrible things looked from behind The Lady's desk.

"But... Octy saved the day." Vinyl scratched her blue mane. "When you save the day, you get the happy ending. That's how this is supposed to work. Unless you have to find the secret level exit or something." She waved her front hooves in the air threateningly. "Is Vinyl Scratch gonna have to choke a Beakie? Is that how we unlock the secret happy ending? Don't tell me it comes as day-one downloadable content. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry about day-one paywalled downloadable content."

The gryphon turned to look at the vampire and let out a long sigh. "Strings saved the city from a threat that we were not sent here to stop. If we didn't have some dragon bones to show for it, this entire operation would have been a waste of time in the eyes of the bean-counters." He glanced over at the gray mare and smiled sadly. "Not The Organization's bean-counters, mind you. The higher-ups."

"The same individuals who are doing nothing about the campaign of terror ARGUS is waging against weaker secret societies?"

"Yalp." He looked back at the vampire. "We were sent here by The Lady to-"

"To kick hide and chew bubblegum, and she didn't give us any bubblegum!" interjected the vampire with a grin.

"To keep this city profitable," he corrected. "The Organization needs money to function. Money to buy equipment, money to produce stock to sell, money to pay employees. You can't pay ponies enough to fight unspeakable horrors," he gestured to the injured Operatives, "but everypony needs to eat and wants to put a little away. The employees who don't carry lasrifles when the sun goes down need to be paid as well. Money, money, money. We try to make as much as we can the honest way." He coughed again and clutched his front. "ARGUS eats from the taxpayer's trough, or worse, and the taxpayer isn't even cleared high enough to know that's where the money goes. We need this city producing, and right now... right now, things are a bit worse off than when the three of us arrived here."

Octavia regretfully finished the wrap and folded the foil. Her stomach felt better already. She looked up at the gryphon. "Perhaps in some ways, yes. But we are better off in others, aren't we, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, the monster problems in the city that we were sent here to sort out have been dealt with. Now we just have to rebuild the command structure so that operations can continue. Hmm." The gryphon rubbed his chin. "It'll be touch-and-go for a bit, but we could come out of this ahead, especially if the Educarchy starts rolling back ARGUS holdings in the city." He thought for a moment. One other Bon Hadescream unit was operating in-city, but if they were who he thought they were, they were running as dark as it got. Robbing high-security vaults was risky business. Ahh, the thrill of the heist. That kind of work had even gotten him shot in the head once upon a time... "Of course, that sort of power struggle would also invite trouble from monster groups who want to grab new turf. Hmm. The purer-than-thous are gonna send an Inquisitor, but which one?" He scratched his head, then smoothed out his feathers. "Ugggh. I need to ask The Lady what to do about that."

"You'll figure it out," Vinyl assured him. "That's why I let you live."
> Bastile (Part XXV): Finale - Golden Trophy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia rolled her eyes and set the neatly folded foil next to her mattress. The gyro had been just what she needed, filling and able to be eaten from its wrapper without getting one's hooves messy. She smiled up at the ceiling. Perhaps she was skilled at the art of death, but it was her other gifts that had won the day. Generosity and music, those were what had ultimately stopped the dragon, not bullets. The gray mare was more than an assassin, she was an Asset.

Vinyl scooped the tinfoil into a pocket. "Oooh, that reminds me..." The vampire rummaged in her red trenchcoat. After a few seconds, she pulled out what appeared to be a tiny reproduction of the beautiful golden cello and bow that the dragon had used. Octavia stared at it with wide eyes. "Bam! I found this next to a rock when Beakie made me clean up the mess after my concert. Pretty snazzy, isn't it?" With a glow of her horn, she floated the ancient instrument toward her ghoul. "So... are you ready for another adventure?"

"I... I think I need to rest for a while, Vinyl." Octavia stared at the beautiful cello and bow. With trembling hooves, she reached out to take them. At the merest thought, they grew from small enough to be lapel pins to just the right size for her to play, then shrunk down again. Despite being made of metal, the cello was even lighter than her wood one. They were beautiful, so very beautiful. It was as though they had been made just for her. Yes, yes, all for her. Her precious. She could feel the mystic energies oozing from its frame, calling to her just as they had during the concert. Greed. And yet... were they not worthy of such greed? Were they not superior to any instrument made by pony hooves, or pony magic? Rollins cleared his throat and caught her eye, letting her know that she had better let Central's experts have a good long look at the instrument before doing anything with it. She nodded slowly, and smiled. Anything of the ancient dragons was very powerful, and not to be toyed with. Scoffing Song had learned that the hard way. Still, it was a trophy, a reminder of all she had overcome. "And we have to keep the dragon bones and wounded safe on our return to Central. I hope that will be far less of an adventure than this has been."

"Awww..." pouted the vampire. "Oh, and this was near the gold cello too." She produced a slab of dark rock. Etched into it, as though written with ink on paper, was a brief message. The fire is upon the mountain, within the house of the rising sun. Bequeath from scale, to worthy, to scale. And should you ever wish to try again... pick up the bones, and set them on fire. Follow the smoke going higher and higher. Octavia read the message, not quite understanding.

Her domitor did. "I recognize that last bit." Vinyl cleared her throat. "Now maybe someday the sun's gonna shine. Flowers will bloom, and all will be fine. Pick up the bones, and wish them goodnight. Pray them a prayer, and turn out the light. But nothing will grow on this burnt, cursed ground. Because the breath of the death is the only sound."

"What?" Octavia asked uncertainly.

"Old dragon wisdom about life and gathering memories of lost things," she clarified without really explaining anything. "Things were different back when this was a brutal planet."

Rollins had a different take on the cryptic words. He peered at the slate with a worried expression. "Fire upon the mountain... house of the rising sun..." His eye twitched. "No, no, no... not Canterlot, no way. I mean, we don't really have a presence there, but the Educarchy has that place on lock. They don't even let the Lost Loyalists near, and then there's the Royal Guard. Those guys aren't the sharpest spears in the armory, but they're not gonna let something take root right under their noses... I hope..." He shivered, just a little.

"Yeah, I'm sure everything's just fine, Beakie," Vinyl patted him on the back. The fact that she was the one trying to reassure him made her words all the less reassuring. "Celestia's trusting all of her underlings to keep her safe while she focuses on the important stuff, like holding the sun and moon up so the planet doesn't burn or freeze. Don't you trust them too?"

"Trust... yeah, trust." The gryphon took a deep breath. "Keep it together, keep it together. Celestia can handle her own backyard. She's not some figurehead who's only seen when a vengeful deity with a pen needs to emphasize how strong a certain enemy of the week is by having it defeat her." He forced a chuckle. "Fire on the Mountain must refer to... some other mountain. Some other mountain where the rising sun lived back in the dragons' time." A bead of sweat ran down the side of his head. "Yeah... yeah... heh... heh... silly me worrying." He swallowed hard. "Y'know, the Royal Guard don't do regular screening for subconscious hypnosis on their upper officer ranks? I mean, I can understand not doing that for enlisted, but if a Captain or higher is compromised, that can do a lot of damage." He wobbled unsteadily, eyes bloodshot and wanting to close.

"Rollins," Octavia said gently.

"Right, right." He took a very deep breath, reached for that pouch again, then clenched his claw shut before taking out another capsule. "Right. One problem at a time, focus on the task at claw." Whole world's coming apart, seems like. The idea that the message might not have had a malicious undertone did not even occur to him. He had been awake for far too long, kept active by stimulants, training, and pain. His mind perceived monsters in every shadowy corner.

"Quite," Octavia agreed. "And do not worry, Rollins. I have no intent to summon that dragon for a rematch. Once was more than enough." She looked over at Vinyl. "And... I owe you a great debit of gratitude."

"Really? For what?" The pale unicorn shoved the gryphon aside and grinned wider than should be possible into her friend's face. "I mean, I know I'm awesome, so if you can't pick any one thing that's cool."

"Just... for being you, Vinyl." The grey mare sighed quietly. Her friend was cold as ice and wilder than a bag of cats, but she had just seen what true evil looked like. Vinyl was like the spider who spun webs to catch flies, rather than the ones that crept into your home and could make you very ill with a bite. Octavia reached up and hugged her close, and her friend hugged back. Maniac that she was, she could always be counted upon to do the right thing... once every other option had been exhausted. "Thank you for being you."

"It's what I do best, Octy." The vampire said proudly. "And... thank you, too."

"For what?"

"Oh," she cooed in an energetic voice, "you know." Vinyl nuzzled her ghoul's cheek.

"Vinyl," the gray mare said sternly, "you understand that I am recovering from a serious injury, yes?"

From the floor a meter away, a new red stain running across one of his bandages, the gryphon added, "yeah, I showed you the dried blood all over the floor of the atrium. She took a spear through the side!" He struggled back upright, then one of his hind legs wobbled and he collapsed back onto the floor. "Can you actually think about somebody other than yourself for once?"

The vampire shook her head and opened wide.

"Oh..." Octavia reached up and loosened her bow-tie. "Very well. I suppose I owe you that much, my domitor. And I do hope you beat that level." She grinned at the slightly confused unicorn, then shut her eyes as the monster gently sank her fangs into her neck. Vinyl did not need much, especially not right now since she was freshly charged from Rollins' offering, and there were things she should know. Those things Octavia pushed to the front of her mind as she felt that strange, intimate connection form with her domitor. The gryphon looked away and shook his head. He couldn't understand how this felt to her, the sensation of symbiosis and oneness that nothing else could bring. Nopony could, it would be like describing beautiful music with words. No matter how skilled the author might be, and few were as skilled as they believed themselves to be, there was some element that words could not convey. A shiver ran down her spine, and she moaned softly. Yes it hurt, but this was a strange kind of pain.

One more mission accomplished, one more enemy defeated. They had spoken for the lost, and even saved a few. She smiled as the vampire sipped. Perhaps this was not the most triumphant of endings, but it was happy enough for an orphan cellist.

Wub-a-scrub-dub, Octy. Makin' the world a better place.