Dark Days are Coming

TRANSMIT - initiate the Equis signal - RECEIVE - initiate the Old Growth protocols - FOR BEST RESULTS, WATER TWICE DAILY - initiate crossover protocols - WITNESS - Equestria

Can you hear it, sweetling? The change in the Buzzing’s tempo? The tempo changes based on your place in the opera.  Gone are the shrieking of mollusk’s sopranos.  Now you’re with the old basses.

Drop the bass.

You’ve fallen off the path.  No amount of heel clicking will get you back.

Agartha is old, sweetling.  Older than your meat, older than this age or the last or the one before it and the one before it.  We only remember so much, the rest came from lullabies the Host sang to us and the Engines.  Oh sweetling, the tree is so very old.  Its branches stretch everywhere and nowhere and everywhen.

What is time to us?  We exist outside of it.  Everything is happening, has happened, will happen.  Time has an up and a down.  An X and a Y axis.  You only have to sidestep, like a crab.  Move now! Shuffle shuffle!

Initiate the secret histories.

There were meat things from the third time that wanted to map the World Tree.  They wanted to impress order on the fractal pattern they saw.  We tried to tell them that it was foolish.

They did not listen.

They walked and wandered, then ran and screamed.  They went for so long and so far that sometimes they looped back and saw themselves.  Time is funny like that.  Initiate laugh track.

Somehow, they found that branch.  We don’t like that branch.  It was one that grew too close to another tree.  Just a hop, skip and plummet away.

The girl plummeted.  She fell and fell and fell and fell some more.  She landed on that other tree and stumbled through the first gate she saw.  She was never seen again. But we saw, sweetling. We see everything.

She found a new place with new friends.  But that place was not so new.  The Old Things lived there.  WARNING - Contamination detected!

That branch is still there sweetling.  Old and gnarled but alive.  Find it and you will see too.

“Right,” said Garth, “does anyone know what the bloody ‘ell she’s goin’ on about?”

He received only shrugs from his comrades.  Actually that’s not true.  These people weren’t his comrades, except for Sarah technically.  But she was new to the Templars and so green that he would’ve given her less than a month before she ended up down some beast’s gullet.  Friends was too far much.  Even acquaintances seemed a bit of a stretch. People he didn’t immediately want to kill? Well, it was true for some of them.  Those two Illuminati were automatically on his kill list just because of the uniforms they wore and the Dragon girl was just fucking annoying.

“Misaki, sweetie,” said Sarah, “we need you focus okay?”  The red haired girl (Garth couldn't really call her a woman) kneeled before the young Japanese woman, her hood back and black leather coat sprawled out behind her.  “Quinn is hurt pretty bad, luv, and we need you to help.  Can you do that?”

“The princess demands lemon tea!” shouted Misaki, pointing her finger straight upwards in her proclamation.  “Her friends also demand more ice cream and cake!”  Garth could only pinch his brow.  Sure, the Yank was over there and bleeding rather profusely but he didn’t really care.  Hell, if that cowboy ended up dead, he could consider it a bonus.  But the girl would have none of it.  She wanted everyone to live and there was little he could do to convince her otherwise that didn’t involve his hammer.  But saints above if he had to put with this girl much longer, he would lose what little patience he possessed.

Sarah was also starting to reach the end of her patience.  The Japanese girl had been a handful in their short time together, prone to wandering off and getting distracted, even when fighting a tentacled horror from beneath the sea and beyond the stars.  She was trying, Christ, she was trying, but this girl was making it so very difficult.

“Sweetie, if you can focus for just a bit-”

Sarah did not get a chance to finish her plea, as a boot to head can be prone to derailing one’s train of thought at the most inopportune of times.  Said boot was on the end of a slim, nylon covered leg that belonged to one Ellie Michaels, a high ranking thaumaturgist in the Illuminati and friend of Quinntin Miles, who was currently unconscious and bleeding from the head not six feet away.

Ellie was not happy at this moment.

“Alright, enough of this shit!” Ellie reached down and yanked Misaki off the floor by the front of her shirt. A steel claw hovered inches from her face.  “Listen up, bitch, ‘cause I am only saying this once!  Either you get off your skank ass and heal that dude so we can get the fuck outta this shit hole you got us in, or I throw your candy coated ass off this branch and laugh as you fall forever in an infinite loop!”

The girl blinked through dyed purple bangs at the claw in front of her face before turning to the angry blonde woman it belonged to.  “Can we get chocolate afterwards?”

Ellie growled and was about to make good on her word when a grown from behind her made her stop.  Quinntin had sat up, roused by Ellie’s shrieking, and was holding a hand to his bleeding head.

“Christ on a stick, Els,” said Quinn, “it is way too early in the fucking morning for me to put up with this shit.”  He reached into his jacket and brought a well-worn pair of sunglasses.  He could feel Agartha’s ambient energy already going to work and stitching up the head wound. Standing up and popping his joints he took stock of his surroundings.

His band of merry misfits was standing on a giant tree branch in front of a swirling blue and white portal.  'Well no shit,' he thought to himself.  'What else would you expect to find in Agartha?'  The World Tree’s branches loomed in the distance around them.  They were currently on a lone branch that seemed to stretch on into the horizon in either direction.  He could already tell they weren’t anywhere near the main hub, that area that was shared by the three secret societies.  By all rights, they should have exited from a portal close by the hub and from there made their ways back to their respective homes.  The fact that they were here instead of there made him realize a few things:

First, something went wrong.  Normally if you found yourself in this situation, you would use the Agartha Conduit provided by the old station master to take you back to the main hub.  Barring that, simply walking off the edge and falling worked too; the Bees never failed to whisk their “sweetlings” to safety, usually back to the same spot on the main platform.

Second, he had no fucking clue where they were.  If they were off in “that weird part of Agartha,” as a boss of his once put it, so he couldn’t rely much on HQ for intel or assistance.

Third, he had been too long without a smoke.  This last problem was easily solved with roll from his coat and flame from his fingertips.  Sure being able to shoot lightning and fire at bad guys was awesome, but it was the little things that really made him appreciate that bee in his skull.

“Glad to see you still showing concern, Eleanor,” he said to the blonde. He smiled through a cloud of blue smoke as the thaumaturgist’s eyebrow twitched.  There were two things that got on her nerves.  Well, there were actually a lot of things that got on her nerves but there were two big ones: being called “Eleanor” and being accused of having any kind of positive emotion.

Ellie dropped Misaki, who gave out a quick “eep!” as she landed on the branch, and pushed up her round sunglasses on the bridge of her nose.  “Don’t flatter yourself, Quinn,” she said. “I just can’t wait to see Kristen tear you a new asshole when she finds out you made us team up with these three.”

That part made him grimace.  If there was anyone in the world that could scare him, it was his handler, Kristen Geary.  The woman embodied the Illuminati’s ideals of corporate ruthlessness and ambition.  She was in charge of handling the “special” agents and had no qualms about sending droves of fresh recruits on suicide missions before going to get her nails done.

So of course Ellie became immediate friends with her.

“Right, not to interrupt this teary eyed reunion,” said Garth, “but I ‘ave a football match to get back to at the pub in ‘bout an ‘our.  So if we could, don’t know, get the ‘ell outta ‘ere, that would be top.”  The big man reached down and grabbed his fellow Templar by the cuff of her coat and hauled her up to her feet.

Quinn looked around before taking another drag of his stogie.  “Well,” he said, “pick a direction and start walking.”

Elsewhere

“More tea, Your Highness?” said a butler.

“Thank you Manners,” said Twilight Sparkle.  “You know, you don’t have to call me ‘Your Highness’ every time.  Just ‘Twilight’ will do.”

“Of course Your Highness,” replied the butler, before setting down a tray of cakes and creams with his magic.  Twilight simply sighed into her cup of lemon tea before taking a sip.

She looked across the table at her gathered friends and her smile came back instantly.  The five of them had decided to come visit her while they were in Canterlot for the weekend.  Rarity was attending a fashion show that night, in which several of her dresses were going to be the main attractions.  Rainbow Dash was there as part of the Wonderbolts’ show and was on the roster in one of their races the next afternoon.  Applejack had been commissioned to provide desserts for both events and had brought along Pinkie Pie to help.  Fluttershy had no real reason to go but decided that she wanted to spend time with her friends.  They were all currently in the palace’s garden enjoying some tea and snacks.

“Honestly, darling, I have no idea what your problem is,” said Rarity.  The alabaster fashionista was laying on a throw sofa on the opposite side of the garden table, getting herself fanned by a muscular stallion while another served her grapes and tea.  “I could honestly get used to service like this.  It’s enough to make me seriously consider opening a new shop here in Canterlot.”  She took a bite of some offered grapes and batted her eyes at the stallion.

“Yeah!” said Pinkie Pie, as she devoured another bowl of ice cream.  “You have all the sweets you want here!  They’re almost as good as Sugar Cube Corner’s but nothing is better than Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s stuff, but they don’t have as many flavors as these guys do!”  She then used her long tongue to snatch a scoop of ice cream away from Fluttershy’s neglected plate like a frog would to a fly.  The timid pegasus squeaked in surprise and dropped her spoon, which was quickly replaced by Manners.

“Mmm,” hummed Pinkie, “Hey Manny! What flavor is this?”

“Red bean, Miss Pie”, replied Manners as he set a cup of black coffee in front of Applejack, who was rather put off by being served and being surrounded by such opulence.  “Princess Celestia sent back with a large supply of sweets from her recent visit to Neighpon.”

“Bean ice cream?!” Pinkie stared in disbelief at the dessert as if it had suddenly grown a pair of legs.  If Discord was around that actually would have been a possibility but the draconequus was off elsewhere in the kingdom doing tasks from Celestia.  The solar diarch had assigned the chaotic spirit “chores” to keep him from being bored all the time and causing mischief around Canterlot.  Discord would accept the tasks, usually with some urging from Fluttershy and a few jokes at the expense of Celestia’s round behind.

PInkie glared at the ice cream before giving a “meh” and resumed eat it.

“So Twi, uh no thanks, Mr. Manners,” said Applejack.  “How long did the Princesses say they would be gone?”

“For at least another week,” said Twilight.  “Until then I am in charge.”  As soon as she had gotten over her initial panic attack at the prospect of being in charge of Canterlot and all of Equestria, which had included a cascade of increasingly disastrous scenarios which included but were not limited too interdimensional portals and eldritch abominations, Twilight found that she really had nothing to worry about.

Except the mind numbing tedium of court politics.

It seemed that every scheming noble and two bit politician saw the diarchs’ abescense as their opportunity to make a grab for more wealth, power and influence.  Of course several generations of posh lifestyles, fat bank accounts and some questionable breeding practices had left the upper crust with about as much subtlety in their attempts to conceal their intentions as a minotaur in a china shop.  Twilight had shot down almost every proposal and petition, expertly citing which laws and ethical codes they were violating and sent the nobles leaving in a huff of bruised pride and ruffled feathers.

Celestia and Luna, after hearing about this in letter delivered by Spike, complemented Twilight on her smoothly handling the situation.  Twilight was quickly earning a reputation as a fair but no nonsense ruler who held the common pony’s interests at heart.  While many in her position would have taken this opportunity to throw extravagant parties, exploit in the treasuries vast wealth to their own gain, or any number of other scenarios, the most Twilight had done was reshelve the royal library and have a quiet get together with her five best friends.

“Incoming!” came a shout from above.

Well, almost quiet.  Twilight looked up just in time to see Rainbow Dash do a flyby of the garden, causing a few dishes to be knocked over along with Rarity’s throw sofa and one of the fans.  Rainbow pulled up sharply and looping up over the party before coming straight down.  She expertly stopped in a hover, showing off her Wonderbolt’s uniform with her flight leader badge proudly displayed.

“Sup gang,” she said nonchalantly as she took an empty seat at the table.  “What’s the word?”

“The word, Rainbow Dash,” said Rarity, as she righted her couch, “is that your antics have ruined my hair!”  She gave a quick shake of her head and her violet mane had returned to its impeccable state.

“Ah quit complaining, Rarity,” laughed Rainbow.  “You’re mane is fine.  It’s not like aren’t going to spend an hour changing it before the show tonight.”  The stunt flyer grabbed a cup of coffee with her dexterous feathers and began to enjoy the sweet, sweet caffeine.

Twilight giggled at the exchange.  Though she had not been living in the palace too long, she still missed the little interactions between her Ponyville friends.  It was so very refreshing to see them all once again.  As she took another sip of her lemon tea and cut a small piece of her cake with her fork, she made a silent wish that days like this could last forever.

“Are we there yet?” asked Misaki.

“No, luv,” said Sarah.

“Are we there yet?”

“No,” said Ellie.

“Are we there yet?”

“No,” said Quinn as he lit another cigar.

“Are we there yet?”

“...That’s it,” said Garth, as he reached for his hammer, “I’m going to bloody kill them all.”

“Garth!” said Sarah.  The giant from London grumbled and continued walking.  The small group had been walking on the same branch for hours now.  Misaki seemed content to pass the time humming, arms stretched out and occasionally asking a nonsensical question.

“What does the bakery taste like?” wondered Quinn.  ‘What the fuck kind of drugs are the Dragon on?  ...Wonder if I can get some?’

Garth, like many, knew little about the most mysterious of the secret societies.  The others he could get.  The Templars believed in tradition and honor and all that crap and weren't afraid to pound anyone into tiny pieces with big ass hammers if they didn’t completely agree with thier dogma.  They weren't a religious organization, just one dedicated to the destruction of all things evil or, at the very least, what they thought was evil.

The Illuminati were puppeteers.  They pulled the strings of government, military and finances across the globe, all from the shadows, they were the very ideal and secret society.  They followed the most basic of principles: fuck or be fucked.  There was no reach around option.  Ellie agreed with this philosophy one hundred percent but sometimes Quinn took issue.  But then again, with the amount of money he was getting paid and all the perks that came with membership, he wasn’t one to complain too loudly.  Just enough to waste a few resources on helping a few people who needed it.

The Phoenicians? Pirates.  No really, they were pirates and arms dealers.  Granted they dealt in occult weaponry and were based in a giant floating city somewhere in the Indian Ocean, but they were the most straightforward.  The stole shit, got rich and killed people.

The Dragon?  Well they could be summed in Misaki: just fucking weird.  He had heard about Chaos Theory; butterfly flaps its wings and causes a tsunami, that kind of thing.  But using it to bring the world to a state of harmony? He wasn't paid enough to have his brain meat work that much.  Those people had no structure whatsoever.  Hell, they didn’t even have a plan.  If they did have one, the Illuminati sure as shit couldn’t figure it out.  That idea alone was enough to upset some very powerful and very, very scary people.

“Buzz, buzz, buzz, Mr. Bee!  What sweet new thing do you have for me!” sang Misaki.

Looking at Miskai, Quinn was pretty sure that those people had nothing to worry about.

“Stop!” shouted Miskai.  The small crowd stopped and stared at the petite woman.  “You have arrived at your destination!”  She then promptly turned around, walked behind the group, and began to rummage through her backpack shaped like a cartoon frog for a candy bar.

Sure enough the group had reached the end of the branch.  To their dismay, there no tree or gate attached to it, just empty space.

“Well, bollacks,” growled Garth.

“Ugh,” moaned Ellie as she pinched her brow, “I so do not have enough patience for this ball fuckery.  I wanted to get a pedicure and then run some tests in the demonology lab before the party tonight.  Marco was going to DJ this time.”

“That Puerto Rican you were fucking?” asked Quinn.

“No, the other one.  Though thanks for reminding me. I think I have an opening at 2 this weekend if those tests on the vamps pan out.”  She jotted a quick note down on her smartphone.  Quinn just rolled his eyes.

“Well,” said Sarah, a slight blush on her cheeks.  “I suppose we should just turn around then.

“Yay!” said Misaki with a piece of candy in her mouth as she dropped a candy wrapper.  The group did turn around and began to walk the other direction, with much growling and bitching, only to find themselves going up a familiar slope and stopping at a dead end.

“What the fuck?” said Garth.  He reached down and picked up a familiar candy wrapper they had left not ten minutes earlier.

“Litterbug!” said Misaki puffing out her cheeks and pointing an accusing finger.

“Okay, what the flying fuck?” said Ellie.  “How the fuck are we back here?”

“Els, if it’s one thing I’ve learned since swallowing that damn bee, it’s that questions sometimes have shitty answers.”

“And that’s why I have the corner office, Quinn, and you are still doing mostly fieldwork.”

“Um, guys?” said Sarah.  She was promptly ignored.

“Ah will the two o yeah just shut it, already!” yelled Garth. “Ye two are driving me up the bloody wall wit yer bloody yapping!”

“Oh chillax, chrome dome,” said Ellie.

“Guys?”

“I told ye already, ye witch, I shave it!  I ain’t bald!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Guys! Look!”

The argument abruptly stopped and four sets of eyes focused on Sarah.  She was leaning over edge and pointing downwards.  They followed her gaze and saw it.  There, at the very edge of their vision through the bright, glowing haze, was a network of branches.

“Fuck yeah! Thats what I’m motherfucking talking about!”

“Huh.  What do you know?”

“Yay!  I’m hungry!  Can we can ice cream?”

“But, um,” said Sarah.  “How do we get down there?”  Sarah quickly received her answer when Garth gave her a quick shove from behind.  She fell screaming into the void and was soon joined by the others.

Out of all the powers bestowed by the Bees, from channeling anima through mundane objects to wielding the very forces of the universe, none have stumped more brilliant minds than the ability to fall from any height and not be harmed.  Quinn could recall the first time he discovered it when he fell off a decrepit roller coaster in the abandoned Atlantic Island Park.  Scared the shit out of him at first but once he found out that neither falling nor the sudden stop at the bottom could hurt him, he learned to get over.

It seemed to be a recurring theme: weird shit happens, get used to it.

After several seconds of freefall, filled with terrified shrieks and gleeful cries, the group landed on a branch below.  The next several Minutes were filled with Sarah cussing and hitting Garth, who was laughing so hard he was crying.  They walked a short distance to a glowing portal.

The portal, like any other in Agartha, was grown out of the tree’s branches.  The large knot that served as a frame, held a gateway that could transport a person to a gateway that led to the surface anywhere on the planet.  This made it so anyone could travel to any spot of the planet with an active gate.  Distance was was reduced to just a few steps here in the Hollow Earth.  Saved the societies a ton on their travel budgets.

“Alright where’s this one lead?” asked Ellie.  “I have a lot of shit to do tonight and I’m not gonn-”

“Different,” said Misaki.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.  “You say something, sugertits?”

“Sounds different,” said Misaki.  She had her head to the floor and was rapping her knuckles against the wooden surface.  “Different tree.”

“...Well she’s lost it.  Not that she ever had it.  Quinn can you please-”

“Ellie,” said Quinn.  “She right.”  Quinn’s brow was furrowed as he stared at the gate and the other branches around them.  Garth held a similar look on his face.  He breathed deep.

The air was different here.  Agartha was warm (kept the Bees happy) and the air always held a pungent scent of honey.  Here... something was off.  The scent was there but much stronger.  The air was muggy.  Even the wood seemed off, a deeper shade of brown, the golden circuitry seemed to holder a deeper glow as well.  The whole area gave off a sense of being so much older.  Unattended.

And that’s when the penny dropped.  Ellie listened and heard nothing save for an occasional tap for Misaki.  There were no custodians. The giant walking constructs, built by humans in the Third Age, the ever present wardens of Agartha, were no where.  She couldn’t hear their echoing footsteps.

And for the first time in a long time, Ellie Michaels was afraid.

“...Where are we?” Sarah finally asked.

Quinn looked around hoping to see some sign that they were close to home.  Only the silence and the buzzing of bees answered him.

“Someplace else.”