The Conversion Bureau: Mirror Match

Chapters

I - One Upped
II - Mishap Table
III - The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life
IV - Free Action
V - Roll for Exploration
VI - Interlude: Dexterity Training
VII - Special Delivery
Extra: Special Request
VIII - Wheels Within Wheels
IX - BBEG
X - Thrall
XI - Loaded Dice
XII - Dragoon
XIII - Endgame
XIV - The Dog Has His Day
Epilogue - Loose Ends
Alternate Ending - Going Pony

I - One Upped

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 1 - One Upped

Mordred romped through the undergrowth, his Kommandant at his side as he trod down shrubbery and stray creatures alike. Such a process was easy, but time consuming. And even then, the guardsmen following in his wake still had to pick their way past fallen trees and other debris.

Smoke billowed from his smokestack, boiler working overtime to keep his seventeen-tonne frame moving. He brushed a stray tree aside with his shield, and reinforced his grip on his war lance. The enemy was near, he knew it.

The Kommandant stepped up on a stone, and waved his banner mightily; the red and gold of his nation fluttered in the air, and Mordred felt energized. The lesser soldiers nearby cheered, and ran forward, the undergrowth no longer providing an obstacle.

A wave of magical energy surged through the air, and Mordred felt... enlightened. He could see the target before him – a stone giant; slow to move, slow to react, animated by magic. And his mortal enemy.

Mordred levelled his lance, and cut loose with his grenade launchers – with a blast of wood and foliage, a path was cleared, and Mordred leaped forward at a speedbelying his size and weight. He drew back the lance; most effective on a charge, the stone giant had but only the slimmest of chances to avoid the powerful weapon.

Mordred reached optimal range to thrust forward with his lance, and he....

I rolled dice. This was going to be easy. All I had to do was roll a total of three or more with two dice – easy as brea-

“Snaaaaake eyeeees.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What?”

“Snake eyes. You rolled a two. You missed.”

I looked down at the dice – translucent both, red and blue apiece. Twins for the moment as they both showed a solitary white dot on their top side. My opponent sucked in a sharp breath as he watched my face drop into a stony, neutral expression.

“That's pretty unlucky, man. This has been happening all day, are you sure you're in the right hobby?”

I sighed. It was true – this game had been two hours of nothing but unlucky rolls where I needed to make the most impact. And only the occasional success when I made rolls to try and keep my miniature soldiers alive.

And this last one would cost me the game. My opponent, Gary; he calmly moved his pieces around the table in response, and I watched as my banner-waving Kommandant was suddenly surrounded by warlocks, all packing serious spell firepower.

It was close; I'd almost been out of range. But “almost” only applies to hand grenades, as they say.

“And that's game,” Gary declared. “Good game, Duke.”

“Game's over already?” A voice piped up from across the gaming hall. A tall, slender woman, one of the few to be a regular at the club (Mostly because she founded the damn thing), made her way over to the table, and looked at the pieces. “Duke, how did this happen?”

“M, I don't know,” I replied, resting my face on the mock-grass of the tabletop, “I don't know.”

“He had some amazingly horrible rolls,” Gary piped up.

“Yeah, I'm blaming the dice for this one,” I collaborated, and M nodded.

“Duke, if we were playing second edition rules, you'd be the guy with the rocket launcher, who not only rolls up a result of having a missile jam in the barrel of the launcher, but your entire backpack of missiles would explode as well.”

“Hey,” I said, raising a hand, “Sometimes I get amazingly lucky. Besides, according to statistics, I should be due for a stream of non-stop sixes and fives, soon.”

Gary looked at his wristwatch, and made an awkward noise.

“Wow, it's late; I gotta run, guys. Wanna get home before it gets properly dark.”

“Are you that much of a baby?” I asked, and M shook her head.

“Come on, Duke. Do you not pay attention to the news? HLF and PER activity's way up, the streets aren't safe at night these days.”

“Come on,” I waved a hand, sitting up, “How much danger can I be in? I'm human, so HLF won't want a piece of me, and PER would just turn me into a pony; immediately after which, I'd make that move to Equestria.”

“So you're okay with being turned into a talking horse?” Gary asked me, putting his models back into his foam-padded case with haste, as I followed suit with my own models and case.

“I guess so, yeah. I have things I want to do before that, though; but you know, I'm easy either way.”

“Lucky you,” he grunted, and held out a hand. I took it, and we shook. “Thanks for the game.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I nodded. Rule one. Play like you've got a pair.

Gary threw a small salute, and slipped outside into the twilight, case of minatures in hand; with an easy motion, he tossed his case into the back of his convertible parked right outside the front doors, and hurdled into the driver's seat. M made a noise of approval.

“I wish I could do that,” she murmured as Gary revved his engine and peeled out.

“I just wish I could be half as cool as Gary.” I looked at M. “You know they call him 'Gary-motherfucking-Soak'?”

M just nodded, and began to pack up her own things; I watched her packing away her MTG cards for a moment.

“What do you think about ponification, M?”

“What do I think? What do you mean? It's ponification. It is what it is.”

“No, I mean,” I paused, trying to get my head around it. “Do you buy into the hype that the HLF or the PER sling about?”

“I believe just one group,” M stated, fishing keys out of her pocket. “The Bureaus themselves. They've never tried to deceive us, they've always been totally transparent with us. Everything else is deception. Ponification ain't brainwashing and enslavement, just the same as it probably ain't all rainbows and sunshine like the PER says.”

“You ever going to make the shift? Sounds like Gary wants to, but he just can't bring himself to admit it,” I remarked, slipping outside myself as M followed me out, locking up the hall.

“I'll make the shift one day,” she said, “Membership's down, you know. The club won't last much longer; when it does die, I'll move then.”

“We could always just restart the club in Equestria, right?” I shrugged, and M laughed.

“You've done nothing but get your ass kicked all around the tables, ever since you joined, Duke,” she chortled. “You still want to play with us, after three years of straight losses?”

“Every dog has his day,” I declared, “and I live in anticipation of the day where I thrash the ever-loving sacks out of everyone in the club. It will be a glorious day.”

“I'm sure it will,” M laughed. “You want a lift? My car's just around the corner.”

“I won't put you to the trouble,” I shook my head. “Thank you for offering.”

“It's no trouble at all, really,” M wheedled.

“No,” I reaffirmed my declination of the offer. “I feel like I want to walk tonight. It's a fine night.”

“Alright, Duke,” M said, “Be careful. Some of that bad luck you had today might still be lingering around, I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

I gave a gentle wave, and she waved back as she disappeared around the corner. I reached into my pocket, and fished out my headphones; with a few practiced motions, I threaded the headphones into my phone and ears respectively, and set out on my walk home.

======

Ponies. Equestria. Two years had passed since the world was exposed to the two concepts. A land of talking equines, and the talking equines themselves. A land of magic, friendship and plenty, apparently.

They opened the gates to paradise, and so very many went with it. My family were among those first in line to get converted, even – I get letters every now and again from them, always going on about how nice it is, and that I'd love it there.

Fact is, I like the city far too much. Green fields? Sunny skies? Not my cup of tea. I feel out-of-place anywhere that doesn't have at least three walls, and 60% artificial lighting. It's not getting ponified that has me second-guessing myself. It's the moving away from everything I know and love.

That said, M and Gary were right – city's getting more dangerous with every passing day. HLF death-squads roam the streets at night, looking for stray ponies to put holes in with their .303 rifles and shotguns. They haven’t started making house-calls, but it’s only a matter of time.

And then you've got the Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth faction – they fight a more well-intentioned, but even more horrible battle – ponifying folks without asking them first.

I'm told Ponification is brutal if you're awake for it. The methodology of ponificaton varies wildly from place to place, and the less-well-off Bureaus tend to cut corners on general anesthetic in a pinch.

You wouldn’t think so, but there's a real science to it; ponification serum now has so many variants and formulae, it's almost a conversation point as to what serum you took.

'Oh, I got done with r13 potion.'

'Casuals. I ponified with stuff from the r19 batch, the one where they forgot the integrated anesthetic.'

'We don't get 25 around where I live, so I was disappointed. Working on how to grow my coat out so I can be a fluffy pony.'

Then you've got the more infamous potions. r63, for example, the gender-swap potion. And r34, whatever that does; if there's anyone who's ever actually elected to take it, they're not telling. r1, the famous “first batch” - a vintage these days. And rumors abound of pre-release formulas that were all but destroyed. Experimental.

Revision 23's the most common; the stock-standard variant, no side effects, no caveats. Only straight ponification, as advertised on the brochures. Seven days, and you're right as rain.

Headlights cast a shadow in front of me as I walk down the street, cars passing by rapidly; nightlife's dead in town these days, after PER started gas-bombing nightclubs. Dead in more ways than one, after HLF started tailing those PER gassing-runs, to clean up the results.

More headlights. My scalp itches, like I'm being watched. I turned my head to look at the vehicle behind me; I couldn't see much of what looked like a big moving truck, save for headlights and a shadow that looked not unlike the barrel of a gun.

I'm not fit. I'm quite slow, even. But I almost dived fast enough.

Almost, hand grenades.

I felt a jabbing sensation in my neck as I hit the ground and rolled, my case of miniatures still in hand. My free hand instinctively reaches up and slaps the offending article as the truck guns it and speeds away, red tail-lights dancing a merry trail through the dark.

The small dart comes away in my hand, and I look at it; hollow-tipped and tufted with what looks like a purple feather. I smell it, and under the smell of my own blood, I smell... grapes.

I recoil from the dart - it's been loaded with ponification serum. My mind races. It's a dart, and the amount of serum can't have been that much. I hold onto it, and break into a run.

I'm not far from home. I just need to get home, and check the internet. I'm sure I won't change... not immediately, anyway. Regular serum needs about an ounce to induce transformation. That dart had hardly anything.

I pray there's nothing special about this batch.

======

With a crash, I plow through my front door, keys falling from my hand as I go, case following it as I stumble towards my laptop; idling away on my dinner table, awaiting my return. I wake it up with a finger-snap, and all but fall into the chair.

I feel so tired. A part of me is shouting that I should be calling an ambulance at this point. It's drowned out by others, all citing somewhat valid reasons to not. I need to research this. I might not need an ambulance. They're probably not running these days. I have life insurance.

I open up my first port of call – Wikipedia. They've got quite the page, when it's up. Availability for Wikipedia's pretty spotty these days, what with all their staff doing runners.

It's down. Panic-o-meter jumps up a notch. I turn the lights on properly, lighting up my house, and examine the dart.

Not much to say; it's like a needle, but banded with green and purple stripes. A small serial number reads out what batch went into this, what variant it is. I know how to read it. But I've never heard of it before – probably because it's a PER mix, not an official one.

I know just the guy. I open up my chat program, and wait for it to connect. He's a pony, and he seems to have a network spanning far further than I could ever imagine regarding serum development. The connection established, and I was online. Time to ask my question.

Unibro

Wake the fuck up man

Unibro

<@Unibro> You called, DoUK?

I need a favor

urgent

<@Unibro> Shoot.

plz look up serum r92-b

<@Unibro> Wait one, I'll ask NP

I sit back, feeling my chest – my heart's going nuts. I hoped it was serum, and not just straight poison. Exactly forty seconds laer, I get a response.

<@Unibro> Back

what is it

<@Unibro> Nasty

<@Unibro> PER-designed. Super-concentrated, only a little dose needed to facilitate conversion. Delayed action. Only one or two successful conversions out of a good six dozen field-tests. -b variant contains sleeping agent

shit

<@Unibro> Why are you

<@Unibro> no

<@Unibro> Did you get dosed?

yes

<@Unibro> Holy fuck, stop talking to me, get help

<@Unibro> How long?

5 minutes ago or so, ran home

<@Unibro> That was super stupid

<@Unibro> …

<@Unibro> Do you live in Bay City? Can you get to a Bureau?

<@Unibro> I can't help from here. Get help now. GO

I back off from the computer, stumbling slightly. I turned to the kitchen, where the phone sat in its cradle on the bench, amidst dirty dishes. I reached out a hand, and suddenly found myself on my side; the linoleum was cold, and I could see a sea of dust beneath my fridge. I tried to get up, and met with middling success; I reached up to the edge of the counter, and tried to pull myself up.

It slipped, and I realized I was holding a cutting board; it fell down, dragging a bunch of cups and a carving knife with it; I thanked my lucky stars when the knife landed blunt-edge on my chest.

I found it hard to focus; I just wanted to sleep. But, a small tidbit of information drifted out of my memory, a fragment of a conversation long since passed, someone giving what had seemed like a super-childish reason not to go pony.

I don't wanna get converted because I have to be naked for it to work. Human clothes will throttle a pony if we're wearing clothes when we change. Especially the collar.

I was wearing clothes. I took the knife, and with weak hands, made a cut in the collar of my t-shirt, down the front. The knife fell from my numb hands after the first centimeter, and I prayed it was enough.

As my vision faded to black, my laptop beeped as someone said my username in the chat room.

<@Unibro> Good luck DoUK

======

A soft beeping filled the air in the musty server room. Very few of the computers were lit with activity lights these days, just one server left.

Automated protocols picked up the message, bounced off a satellite.

Client #1,884,849 life signs critical

Client #1,884,849 life signs failed

Neuro-signs flatlined.

Brain-death recorded.

Life Insurance verified.

Re-life proceedures invoked.

Long since quiet machines slowly ground to life; SyntheDyne Corporation didn't see much action these days. But the odd invocation of Life Insurance still got through every now and again.

Life Insurance. Once upon a time, it meant your relatives got a healthy stipend of money when you died. SDC had changed that – their Life Insurance had a hefty premium, but when you did bite the dust prematurely...

Data from the nanites in Client #1,884,849 was interpreted, and decompressed. Memories, last unchanged genetic structure, everything possible to know about one human body.

Machines got to work, tissue samples were extruded in long strands like spaghetti, into a transparent-walled plexiglass tank, where flashes of electricity and a soup of nanites stitched strands of flesh together like thousands of millions of microscopic worker ants, regulating computers in the base blinking and clicking away.

A torso began to take shape, ribcage extruding around a half-constructed heart.

SDC changed the whole game with their Life Insurance. If you died, and it was covered by Life Insurance... you got a second chance. An extra life.

Computers whirred and clicked as they roused shipping bots from their slumber, preparing to ship the life-pod holding the organic soup. A hand was adrift in the soup, and being fused to an arm, while crackles of energy filled the soup as a heart was started beating, brainwaves stimulated.

A crane placed the pod into a power cradle in the back of the drop-ship, and it lifted off, the entire operation still as seamless today as it was two years ago.

The fluid flowed to the side of the pod, as the ship banked around to fly inland. Inside the pod, the skin formed over a brand-new skull and eyeballs, and the eyes shot open in an automated function test.

From death to life in just sixty minutes. Duke Cooper was back.

II - Mishap Table

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 2 – Mishap Table

I was standing still on the sidewalk, in the dead of night. Which was odd – hadn't I been walking home? And why were my clothes so... baggy? I looked down, and saw a simple white boiler suit. Realization dawned on me. The white boiler suit I'd seen on disaster victims and homicidees in the past.

“Aw, fuck, I got re-lifed.”

A soft whoosh from overhead, and a gust of wind ruffled my hair as I watched a hover-truck fly off into the sky, a faded logo emblazoned on the side – SDC.

I patted my chest pocket, and sure enough, there was a folded piece of paper in there. I took it out, and read it in the light of the street lamp.

Death isn't the endYou and your new re-lifed existience

Commiserationson your recent untimely demise, dear reader, and congratulations on your continued existence!

This brochure is intended to help you get back to speed and overcome your recently vitally-challenged state.

You may possess a large sense of unease and disorientation. This is normal – SDC's patented Life Insurance is swift-acting, however some loss of time is inevitable. Depending on your respawn location, anywhere between three to five hours may have passed.

Your memories and experiences will be intact, as per our policies, so naturally, this loss in time will be disorientating.

You may possess a strong desire to retrieve your personal belongings and/or mortal remains from your place of expiration. This is not advisable, and it is for this reason that we do not record your location of actual death. We do encourage moving on, and if you are having trouble doing so, we have a series of consultants you can contact for professional help on page five.

With this resurrection, your Life Insurance has expired; we offer competitive rates if you wish to renew your premiums, however, repeated claims to your Life Insurance will result in monthly surcharges for twelve months following your last death.

For commonly asked legal questions, turn to page six.

We wish you the best in your new life,

SyntheDyne Corporation,

Insurance Division

I lowered the sheet of paper. I had died. Where the fuck was my corpse? Where were my – no. I shook my head. That was exactly the kind of thinking the brochure said not to do.

What could I do, then? I shivered as a gust of cold wind punched clean through my temporary clothing.

Home.

======

I stopped in my driveway. Never really used it for it's intended purpose, I didn't have a car. Sure, cars were going cheap, thanks to the surplus, but I was also no good at driving.

Beside the point, though. The lights were on in my house, and the door hung ajar.

I lived alone.

I cautiously made my way indoors. Was this where I'd met my demise? A botched home invasion? I pushed the door open, and it creaked softly. I moved my foot along the ground, and the cheap crocs I was wearing brushed against something metal; my house keys.

So I had come back after all. I spotted my miniatures case, discarded in the middle of the hallway, exactly where it didn't belong. Very unlike me.

I crept into the living room, a sunken lounge, and looked to the dining area – my laptop sat on the table, asleep.

So it wasn't a robbery which got me killed. Something else. I snapped my fingers, and the laptop responded, waking up and making a blip sound.

I investigated the computer. The chat program was running; it had disconnected when the laptop had gone to sleep, and reconnected when I woke it up just now. Someone had noticed.

<@Unibro> Hey, DoUK

<+DoUK> Hey Unibro. What's going on?

<@Unibro> You don't remember?

<+DoUK> Um, no. Sounds like I should, though. I just got re-lifed.

<@Unibro> Aw shit. You died after all.

<+DoUK> Why do you know so much about me dying?

<@Unibro> You rocked on into here like a hurricane, wanting me to look up a Potion code. Turned out you got hit with the stuff, and... yeah. Timed out.

<+DoUK> Potion? I got ponified?

<@Unibro> Possibly. Super-dangerous stuff you got hit with, low survivability rate. Probably died, that's why you're here now asking me how you died.

<+DoUK> Thanks, Uni

<@Unibro> Just glad to know you're not permanently dead, DoUK. I gotta split, my shift's up, and Thunder's coming to switch places. See you in 9 hours when I get up.

<!> Unibro has disconnected! (Quit: <~Hatless_Wizzard> I'm outnumbered six-to-one by sheep, that shit isn't funny)

I shut the laptop off, and looked around. So, bad Potion had killed me. Or was killing me. Where would I go?

I turned around, and spotted a stray hoof in my kitchen. I walked over to the doorway, and reached in with a hand to turn on the lights.

Lying on the ground, surrounded by broken crockery and a few kitchen utensils, was a teal unicorn with a navy-blue mane; what remained of a shirt had been torn down the middle, and was more like a vest, now. I recognized it as the shirt I'd been wearing earlier that day. And the pants... thank the gods I'd been feeling classy and worn my slacks. Jeans probably would have cut circulation off dangerously hard.

No doubt about it. It was me. I knelt down, and removed my belongings from the pockets of the pony; cellphone, handkerchief, wallet. I sat back on my haunches. What did you do with your own corpse, exactly?

Brochure time.

In the event that you locate your own corpse in a safe environment, please call the following number to have the body disposed of legally.

We can virtually guarantee that the corpse will not be utilized in anything that does not result in complete immolation.

Huh. I yawned - it was late, and apparently, dying took it out of you. I resolved to phone the contact number in the morning, and set about the house, locking it up and shutting doors once more; all to dance around the elephant in the room.

My dead body in the kitchen. Well, you couldn't really tell it was mine, being a pony and all. I sighed. Respect for the dead, and all that – I should move it out of the road, at least.

I regarded the body with confusion. How did one move a dead pony? I placed my hand under the neck and side, and-

thump thump

-felt a pulse. I pulled my hands away quickly.

“Fffffff-” I wrung my hands in panic - the nightmare was coming true. I danced on the spot for a while, then took a deep breath and calmed down.

“Alright, so... I'm not dead after all. Just sleeping. Okay. This isn't the end of the world.” Stories of superfluous re-life clones flooded my mind – surplus clones got axed. I'd never paid the issue much heed, being the original me. But now... now I was the clone.

I snapped my fingers. But, there was no original me to counter any claims! Only pony-me, who had about as much chance of proving he was me, as much as I had any chance of claiming to be him!

Resolve building in my heart, I lifted my own unconscious body up, and carried him back into the lounge, resting the body on the couch with a huff. Then I looked at the pants. They had been loose, but now they looked uncomfortably tight. Didn't want other-me to start pony life with no hindquarters, after all.

I pulled the pants off, not wanting to think about the implications of self-interaction like this, and saw the mark.

Every pony had a talent – fact. And every talent came with a butt-picture called a “Cutie Mark”. Pony-me had a cutie mark of... two dice, one with six-side up, and the other with one-side up. Total of 7.

If only that were the case. Six years of rolling ivories, and not a lot of wins at any dice-based game to show for it. What other people called “average dice” was as within my statistical reach as rolling doubles.

Suddenly, I didn't want to sleep any more. I sat down in the armchair next to the couch, and turned on the TV – when in doubt, Adventure Time.

======

“Key-hand!”

“What?” I mumbled, licking my mouth. I felt drier than sandpaper. “Adventure Time?”

The sounds of capers stopped, and I sat up awkwardly. The reason for this was revealed when I realized the big change.

“Holy shit, I'm a fucking horse. I'm not dead!”

“Tell me about it,” my voice echoed back. I paused. Usually, echoes repeated what you just said, not something different.

I turned my head to the right, to see someone who looked remarkably like myself wearing an amount of white I preferred not to wear, leaning over the arm of the armchair, and looking at me. I blinked twice, and he stayed there.

Nope. Not a hallucination. Which meant... I didn't even know. Other me was wearing a simple white boiler suit and looked worried.

“Uh... hi. Who are you?” I asked, pointing with one of my new hooves.

“I'm Duke Cooper. Who're you?” the man who looked just like me replied.

“That's funny, Duke,” I said, the name sounding odd as it fell out of my mouth, “I'm also Duke Cooper.”

The other me adopted a sucking expression, as if he'd swallowed a lemon. My “oh shit, I don't know how to fix your problem” face.

I thought of an idea. A question that only I could answer.

“I have never spent more than ten quid on a pack of cards.”

“That's bullshit,” other me interrupted, “What about that pack of Gold Arcane back in 2011? Seventy five US dollars.”

I nodded. “Damn, you are me, after all.”

“Of course I am. Life Insurance pays out fast, FYI.”

“I figured.” I sat back, and regarded human-me with interest. “God, this is weird.”

“It could be worse.”

“One of us could be female, right?”

“How the f-” other-me cut himself off, snapping his fingers as he joined two and two together in his head. “Yeah, okay. Get out of my head.”

“You get out of mine.”

We laughed. Apparently, we still thought the same, too. I sat up, and promptly fell off the couch with a loud WHUMP.

“Hahaha,” other-me said, leaning over, “Oh, man, that looked like it hurt.”

“Shut up and help me up, damnit.” I thrashed around for a few seconds, and gave up. “Too many legs. I can't stand... up!” I stuck a hoof out, and with some effort, other-me pulled me up.

======

I reached out a hand, and gripped pony-me's hoof, pulling... myself... up.

“Damnit,” I complained, “This is rapidly getting weird. We can't both be Duke Cooper.”

“You're right,” pony-me said, “I think I need a pony name, anyway. Help me think of one.”

“Boxcars?” I suggested.

“Nah,” other me waved a hoof dismissively. “How about Snake Eyes?”

“Snake? Snake! SNAAAA-”

“Yeah, alright, I get it,” the pony said, waving a hoof at me briefly before almost falling over and putting his hoof back down. “How about... Fortune?”

“Fortune sounds good,” I nodded. “It rolls off the tongue, and I don't think it's a girl's name.”

Pony me froze. “Yeah, now that you mention it... How about Dice Roller?”

“A tad contrived, isn't it?”

“You wanna do better?”

“...Dice is good. You are now Dice Roller.”

“Thank you,” the newly dubbed Dice stated, rubbing a hoof against his chest, then realizing what he was doing. “Hey, I'm getting better at balancing.”

“Yeah.” I yawned. “Time for bed, I think.”

Dice yawned too. “Yeah. I'm going to hit the hay.”

I turned everything off, and made my way down the hallway to my bedroom; Dice, getting the hang of walking awkwardly, followed suit. I stopped halfway down the hallway.

“Wait a minute. We only have one bed. Someone's gonna have to go couch.”

“You can,” Dice said, pushing past me, “Senority rules.”

“I'm as old as you are.”

Dice paused. “The hell you are, clone.”

“Oh, playing that card, are you?” I had a response already. “No pets.”

“Fuck you, I'm not a pet.”

“You're a horse the size of a large dog, Dice. Tell that to the landlady.”

“Alright.” Dice turned around and looked me in the eye. “How are we going to settle this? Like men? With dice? Trivial contest?”

======

I frowned, and pulled the sheets down off my face. “Budge over.”

Duke snorted derisively. “You know I can't sleep on the edge.”

At this point, I was well acquainted with what was presumably the main reason man didn't usually share bed with equine.

They're fucking cover-hogs, damnit. My hooves were getting cold.

“You're not on the edge,” I stated.

“I will be if I have to move over any further for your fat ass,” retorted Duke.

“My... my ass is not fat,” I retorted, then fell silent. “Stupid magic eight ball. Why did we ever buy that silly “Well Adjusted” magic eight ball?”

“I think I thought it'd be funny,” Duke guessed. “Not so much now that we're actually using it for a decision.”

I fumed silently for a moment. “Alright, fuck it. Tomorrow, we go find a second bed. Or a bigger one.”

“Agreed. Good night, Dice.”

“Good night, Duke.” I paused. “That sounds damn weird, you know that? Saying goodnight to myself.”

“Come on. I was just cloned today. I'm tired. Wanna sleep.”

“Fine.”

The room fell silent, and after some shifting, Duke fell asleep. I listened to him go, and eventually slipped away myself for the second time that evening.

III - The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 3 – The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life

Things to wake up to: Gunshots, screaming, alarms of any description, sounds of grievous bodily harm, babies making noises, people saying “This is how you're going to die, Mr. Bond.”.

They are all horrible in their own way. But nothing trumps phone call, with body resting on top of you.

“Huhrhmmhurrfuggg,” I groaned, and reached out to try and silence my phone as it went off. Setting the ring-tone to “Fury of the Storm” might have seemed like a good idea at the time, but... no. It's not.

Unfortunately, I forgot the biggest development of my recent life – no hands. So instead of smoothly silencing my phone and letting it go to voicemail like I intended; my clumsy hooves merely pushed the phone off the side-table and answered it.

The phone bounced off the table and onto the carpet falling in that awkward space between table and bed, just under the bed enough that you can't see it without getting out of bed, but not far enough to actually make getting out of bed to get it worth it.

“Duke? You there?” Gary's voice echoed out of the phone.

“Yeah, just – fuck, give me a moment,” I shouted at the phone, and struggled with obstacle number two: Myself.

Duke was lying mostly on top of me, and at some point, had contrived to wrap his arms around my neck; I was, essentially, being spooned with by myself.

I wasted two seconds getting my head around that fact. Then I elbowed Duke in the face.

“Fuck!” Duke relinquished his grip immediately, and recoiled instinctively. The bed wasn't that wide, so he fell off with a soft whump. I heard chuckling coming from my cellphone, and rolled off the other side of the bed with a second thump, taking the sheets with me and becoming an equine coccoon.

“Oh, we're sorry,” M's voice said, “I didn't realize we'd be... interrupting something.”

“No, no,” I called back, struggling to free a hoof and trying to pick up the phone with it. An encore of the hooves problem. I settled for pulling the phone closer and resting my ear on it on the ground. “Not interrupting anything.”

“Stop me if I'm wrong, Duke, but I heard two thumps, there,” Gary said, a tone to his voice which implied what he wanted to do was give me a bro-fist and call me a 'sly dog'. “Anyway. We still on for that game today?”

“Right,” I said, “Change of plans; wanna go to the movies?”

“Really? I'm keen... M says she is, too. What are we gonna see?”

“Suprise me. Let me know when you guys pick out the session, I'm just going to... uh... get cleaned up and stuff.”

“You're the boss, Duke. Catch you later.”

A click, and the line disconnected. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Duke got up from the other side of the bed.

“What the hell, Dice. You elbowed me.”

“And you were spooning with my ass,” I retorted. “I didn't realize I had such latent gay tendencies.”

“Hey – after you started licking my ear? I think we're even, dude.”

I blushed. So that hadn't just been a dream after all. I shuddered to think what Duke had been dreaming of, and remained thankful he'd slept with his pants on.

“Anyway,” Duke said, stretching. “What was that?”

“Gary and M. Had a game scheduled, remember? But I talked 'em into going to the movies instead with me... or rather, us.”

“So that's how we're gonna break the news, is it?” Duke asked, walking over to a dresser, and stripping off his sleep-wear and fishing out day-clothes.

“Might as well,” I remarked, feeling a little awkward at being naked until I remembered that ponies didn't normally wear clothes.

“I wonder how many people break the news to their friends that they gained an identical clone in the last... fifteen hours since we saw them last,” Duke mused as he pulled one of my – our - his shirts on. This clothing thing was going to take some getting used to.

“Oh, I have a plan,” I said, “Hey, guys. Meet Dice. He's me; I'm his re-life clone.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Duke said, “Re-life clone? They'll think less of me.”

“They shouldn't,” I countered. “But you're right. You think of a way to break the news without sounding gay. Do that, and... uh...”

“Yeah, can't really offer a reward when we both know the pin code to our bank account, and have equal ownership rights to basically everything in the house,” Duke shook his head and combed out his black hair.

I paid more attention to him; I'd never really considered what I looked like from the outside. I was a sort-of-tall person, too meaty to be thin, but too thin to be average-build. I'd never been fast or strong. Especially fast. And lifting furniture was an adventure in itself for Duke's body.

My face was unmarred, and thanks to my half-asian genes, largely hairless; I wasn't cultivating any beards any time soon. I used to shave every fortnight or so. Now, I guess I didn't really need to shave ever again.

I looked at my new body by comparison. Equine. No hands. But a lot stronger than Duke was. And I was a unicorn, so I presumably had access to magic.

An idea popped up in my head.

“If you can find a way to break the news without making us seem like we're boyfriends rather than twins or clones, I'll carry that bed we're buying inside, all by myself.”

“And if I fail?” Duke asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me through the mirror.

“I dunno... you crack open a tub of ice-cream for me or something.”

“We don't have any ice-cream.”

“Well, then,” I said brightly, “You'd better go get some, then. You're the two-legs around here.”

======

I considered the offer; Dice had a smug look on his face which spoke volumes about what he had planned.

“For the bed thing? No deal. We carry that together.”

“Alright,” Dice nodded, sitting down awkwardly as he worked out the logistics of sitting as a pony. “What's your price?”

“I get a pony ride.”

“Seriously?” Dice raised an eyebrow of his own. “You... want a pony ride?”

“Yes,” I decided. “I will ride on your back, and you will gallop into town, and I will swing that replica cavalry sword of ours.”

“Do you have any idea how humiliating that would be?” he asked, raising two hooves in exasperation, and almost falling on his face. “My price is practically peanuts by comparison.”

“Well, think about it over breakfast. Let's go.” I finished getting dressed, and made my way out to the lounge.

======

Breakfast in the Cooper household these days was almost ritualistic – Some say variety is the spice of life, and I am not a spicy person. A click of the fingers woke up my computer, and another woke up the other great digital love of my life, as I danced through the kitchen and over to the dinner table.

“Yo, Alice.”

“Good morning, Duke,” a cool female voice hailed me from the ceiling, “I see we have a guest with us.”

“Alice, that's Dice. He's... uh.” I paused. How do you explain a clone to an AI which is only partially-smart? “He's my... duplicate. He's a clone.”

“Recorded. Dice now has the same rights as you, Duke.”

“Excellent, start some breakfast, please.”

“Would you and Dice like bacon sandwiches, as usual?”

“I would,” I stated, but then looked at Dice, who'd turned a little pale at the mention of 'Bacon'. “Could we get a salad sandwich or something for Dice, though? I don't think meat goes down well with ponies.”

“Ponies are indeed herbivores,” Alice confirmed, “I believe you have some lettuce in storage.”

“Yeah,” Dice nodded, “Should be second drawer down, I think.”

In the kitchen, a small boxy unit moved along rails on the ceiling, telescoping arms opening and preparing food. The FoodPrep 6000 – I admittedly pinched it out of a mansion when housing started opening up. Wasn't amazing at cooking; probably just a little better than me. But the point was, I didn't have to.

While Alice sorted breakfast out, I popped open the chat program again. As expected, Unibro was there.

<@Unibro> Hey, good morning, DoUK.

<+DoUK> It's a good day to be alive, Unibro.

<@Unibro> Did you sort out that little corpse problem?

<+DoUK> Well, about that

<+DoUK> Can you keep a secret?

<@Unibro> Sure. I keep plenty of secrets, I'll just add yours to the pile.

<@Unibro> Did you eat it? I know a guy who's a pegasus, but he's just itching to get a taste of another pegasus' wings. Kinda creepy.

<+DoUK> No

<+DoUK> Turns out, I didn't die. Ponification worked, and now I have a re-life clone. Or am a re-life clone now, of sorts.

<@Unibro> 'O'

<@Unibro> Well that's a turn up for the books. You lucked out with that serum. What about pony-you?

<+DoUK> What about him? He's going by the name Dice Roller now.

<@Unibro> Is he getting out of town? You've said HLF's got a strong presence in your town, probably don't wanna hang around if you've got 4 legs.

I looked at Dice, who'd been reading the screen over my shoulder.

“You fixing to get out of town?”

“And leave you unsupervised?” Dice laughed, and leaned over to tap at the keyboard with the edges of his own hooves.

<+DoUK> has ha yh right nky gin dbsdere

“That was atrocious,” I complained.

<@Unibro> Ha ha, I see you're trying to type like a human, Dice. Are you a unicorn?

<+DoUK> He is.

<@Unibro> Magic is your friend. Now you know how I type so well despite being a talking horse.

I looked at Dice, who looked a little ashamed.

“Can you use magic?” I asked, and he shook his head.

“I can feel it,” Dice complained, “But it just doesn't respond. Figure I'm going about it wrong, anyway.”

<+DoUK> He can't use it yet. Any pointers from a pro like yourself?

<@Unibro> Yeah – you know Yoda? Star Wars Yoda? He had it right. Use the force, and it just... flows.

<@Unibro> It's not actually force, though, so don't try to get in sword fights or anything.

<@Unibro> Short of that, find a bureau, find whoever trains the unicorns, holla at them.

<@Unibro> If they want credentials or something, tell them the US Conversion Bureau 884 says hi.

<@Unibro> I'll hook you up from here

<+DoUK> Appreciate it.

<@Unibro> NP. Now, the Internet calls me.

“Sirs, your sandwiches are ready,” Alice announced, and the cooking droid telescoped over the dinner table, and deposited two plates onto the table.

One appeared to be bleeding translucent fluid through the bread, and be comprised of butter and bacon.

The other was comprised of suprisingly fresh-looking lettuce, and mayonnaise.

“When did we buy fresh lettuce?” I asked, curious.

“Probably that time we got hungry for burgers,” Dice recalled.

“Oh yeah. That was what, three months back? Thank god for chrono-storage bins.” I picked up my own sandwich, and bit into it; it was greasy, it was a sandwich, it was a bacon sandwich.

Dice just looked at his hooves, then at his own sandwich, frowning.

“This is bullshit,” he stated, then thrust his snout into the sandwich, doing his best to simply fit it all in his mouth and masticate it in one go.

I watched him eat for a moment, and marvelled quietly at his ability to fit it all in. The whole sandwich, just like that. Gone.

“That was...”

“Disgusting?” Dice looked a little ashamed, and wiped some stray mayonnaise off his snout. “Probably. I need to get that magic down soon.”

“I was going to say 'Impressive', but whatever.”

“Well, I-” Dice began, but was cut off by the sound of sharp rapping on the front door. I looked at my watch, which I'd fortunately not been wearing the previous night. Ten in the morning, sharp.

“Wonder who that is?”

“I'll get it,” Dice decided, “You finish your breakfast.”

======

I got up and walked away from the table – walking on all fours was a new experience, but it was something easily learned, thankfully.

I navigated the house to the front door, and looked at it. I swore quietly – it was a round doorknob. My eyes looked at the horn sitting proudly on my forehead.

“Come on, magic. Open that door...”

I focused on the door, and concentrated; rather than try to push the magic out like toothpaste, I decided to try drawing it out gently.

I was rewarded when a soft blue glow formed around the doorknob, and it began to rattle. I quickly stifled my cheer of excitement and focused on turning that knob.

With a wrench, the knob turned, and I pulled with my magic; the door budged about a fraction of a centimeter and stopped. My concentration failed, and the magic glow vanished, the doorknob snapping back to it's original position with a click.

I facehoofed – of course. Might have helped if I undid the deadbolt first.

“Alice! Open the front door for me, please?”

“Of course.”

A robotic arm descended from the ceiling, and with mechanical precision, undid the deadbolt and opened the door.

Standing outside were a pair of stallions; an earth pony, and a pegasus. The earth pony was a resplendant white, with a glistening gold mane, and a solid frame; as far as ponies went, he was a picture of health and strength.

The other one, the dark-brown pegasus with a black mane, looked thin, weedy and while eager and honest, just a little suspect. I would be surprised if that really was all there was to him.

Both were attired in simple black suits with black ties and white undershirts, and the pegasus even looked like he'd made an effort to style his mane; the earth pony just looked like that much class came natural to him.

“Hello,” the earth pony said, nodding his head slightly. I noted that his voice was rich, and confident; a snake-oil salespony if I ever saw one. “How are you today, sir?”

“I'm... good?” I raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you gents? Are you lost?”

“Of course,” the earth pony said, nodding again. “I am Illuminating Shield, this is my friend, Chocolate Cake.”

“Pleased to meetcha,” Chocolate said, nodding. I eyed him warily – he not only looked like a shifty bastard, but he sounded like one, too.

“And I'm not interested in whatever it is you're selling,” I replied, and made to close the door. Shield put a hoof up in protest, conveniently stopping me closing the door.

“Don't be so hasty, friend! We've noticed you're a new pony in this neighborhood, and we thought you'd stop by; after all, we equestrians have to stick together, right?”

“Friendship is magic, and all that,” Cake added.

“Right,” I said, “So...”

“Ah, I see you're skeptical of people showing up on your doorstep and offering friendship just like that; it's a human thing, don't worry - it'll pass with time,” assured Shield, lowering his hoof. “Just hear our offer out.”

“Alright, what's the deal?” I asked, wishing I could fold my hooves. Pegasi had it easy in that respect.

“We believe Ponifcation is a gift,” Shield stated, “And gifts are meant to be shared; won't you help your fellow equines in our quest to share the magic of friendship with everyone? And in doing so, we will further the restoration of earth by allowing Equestria's magical field to consume more of this planet's blighted soil.”

“You know,” I said loudly, “You sound an awful lot like Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth spokesponies. Like that Grey Crusader chap.”

“Shh, don't be so loud,” Shield asked, quietly. “Some people stereotype our kind, and our humble organization is seen as an easy target to cripple our faith in the magic of friendship. We do not practice abhorrent methods of making ponies join our faith. We want them to do that of their own accord.”

“Well,” I said, keeping my voice loud, “It just so happens that I had a brief run-in with some more aggressive specimens of your faith the other night; you showing up here is an awful coincidence, isn't it?”

“It is just that,” Shield dismissed quickly. “Are you suggesting we would... force ponification on somebody? I am offended, good sir!”

“Of course not,” I stated levelly, “I wouldn't dare to accuse you of anything.”

“Then we are in a-” Shield sniffed the air. “Is that... what is that smell in the air?”

I sniffed. The smell of bacon grease was in the air. I smiled.

“Oh, that? Breakfast. Bacon sandwiches, love 'em.”

“B-bacon?” Shield looked a little shaken as he looked at me, and spotted crumbs of bread in my coat. “You're eating bacon? How?”

“Oh, how can't I?” I gushed, “Bacon is wonderful! The grease! The texture! The flavor! Same for any well-cooked steak. Meat is wonderful, the rarer the better. But sometimes you just can't beat well-cooked.”

“Ah... ah ha ha,” Shield laughed unconvincingly. “You... you are aware ponies aren't... designed to handle meat, right?”

“Oh, of course,” I said idly, “I just eat meat because I like to eat meat. Steaks are amazing; I've had them all, you know. Beef, pork, lamb, sheep, kangaroo, elephant... beautiful. But you know what my favorite is?”

“I... wouldn't know,” Shield said, going paler than usual, if that was even possible. All the talk of meat had, apparently, thrown him off. I wondered if he'd been vegan before he was a pony.

“Horse,” I replied, “A bit stringy, but it's an acquired flavor. And plenty to go around. In fact, I'm still cooking a second helping. Would you like to come inside, hang around for breakfast? I'd love to have you at my table.”

“Um,” Shield looked at his hoof, “Actually, we have to make some more rounds before lunchtime, and we've already eaten, so I will have to say no-thanks for now.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we can cook up some horse, and I can show you what I mean.”

“No thanks,” Shield shook his head, and began backing off.

“Come on,” I wheedled, “Come on in; knives are already sharpened, cutting board's ready, just need the meat. Stick around, it's to die for!”

“Perhaps another time,” Shield shook his head. “We can... discuss meat... then, yes?”

“In return,” I said, “I'll consider your offer of friendship, despite the dishonor you show me by not accepting my invitation to breakfast,” I said with a hurt expression on my face. “Please, return any time, I can start cooking whenever.”

Shield and Cake just nodded, and walked away quickly. I watched them leave my property, and move down the street. After two houses, they broke into a run, and I laughed.

An echoing laugh came from just around the corner; pressed up against the wall, Duke was standing there, face plastered with bacon grease.

“Okay, since when do ponies have noses like bloodhounds?” he asked.

“Since we don't eat bacon every day,” I replied. “I see you took the hint.”

“Yeah. You really think they're PER?”

“We get shot with ponification serum, then they show up the next day?” I shook my head. “That is crazy convenient; shell-shock someone with a major life change, then step in and offer support.”

“Break someone, put them back together,” Duke nodded. “Psychology at work. Didn't the Joker do that to Two-face in that Batman movie?”

“Yeah.” I kicked the door shut properly, and froze.

“What is it, Dice?” Duke gasped. “Oh shit, they know where I live! Is that it?”

“Not that,” I replied, feeling a strange feeling in my bowels. “I... need to go to the toilet.”

======

“Oh man, this is such a bad idea,” Dice called out through the bathroom door, “I'm having second thoughts.”

“Get on the toilet, damnit!” I shouted back, leaning against the wall next to the toilet. “Squat and shit, seriously.”

“One,” Dice called back, “I dunno if human toilets can handle horse poop. I mean, horses crap cueballs, man. And two, you try sitting on a toilet as a pony. It doesn't exactly work!”

“Just... stand on the seat or something, and squat over the bowl!” I sighed. “We wouldn't have this problem if you were just okay with shitting in the back yard.”

“Excuse me?” Dice exclaimed. “Just shit outside like a dog, where everyone can see? Why don't I just shit anywhere and let it fall where-ever it may, like a real animal?”

“Nobody's looking! There's only about ten to twenty people left in this entire neighborhood, and I don't think any of them want to watch a pony go for a crap in a yard!”

Muttered curses made their way through the wood of the door, and a clacking noise of hooves on porcelain.

“Damnit! Hooves have no grip!”

“Brace yourself or something!” I said, waving my hands to emphasize, even though he couldn't see.

“With what, pray tell?”

“You're a unicorn. Use magic or something. Cast spell of sticky hooves, or something.”

“Yeah, hang on, wait... yeah, I got it! I've braced myself over the bowl by pushing against the edges. And...”

“Thanks for the info, Dice,” I rolled my eyes, “I really needed to know that.”

“You're... WELCOME!” A loud plunk. “That feels so much better, holy shit.”

I shut my eyes as the sound of falling fluid began. “Remind me why I have to be here for this?”

“For... moral... support!” Another series of plunks, and the falling fluid stopped. “There, I'm done. And I didn't even shit on my tail or anything!”

“What an achievement,” I drawled. “I'm sure there's scores of ponies who can't do that.”

“Shut up. Now... uh... aw shit. I'm stuck. I can't get off the toilet.”

“You got on it, didn't you?”

“Yeah, but now I've managed to wedge myself in so that if I take one hoof off the rim, I'll lose my balance.”

“Only we could manage to get ourselves in a situation like this.”

“Indeed. Now, you wanna - shit!”

A sound of slipping hoof, and a plunk sound. My eyes shot open, and I looked at the doorway.

“Did... did you just fall in?”

“...what do you think?”

I suppressed a laugh. “I think I'll go run you a bath. Try not to get piss everywhere.”

“I won't,” Dice grumbled. A flushing sound began, and I walked away to get the bath ready.

IV - Free Action

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 4 – Free Action

“That was cool. Do it again.”

“Do you know how hard it is to do that?”

“Come on,” I wheedled harder. “Do iiiit.”

A freshly-cleaned Dice sighed as we walked down the suburban street in the sunshine. “I shouldn't have done it in the first place, now you're going to nag me to bust that out at virtually every occasion.”

“Being able to move things around with your mind is cool. You wanna be cool, don't you? Don't answer that – I know you do.”

The teal unicorn sighed, and lowered his horn at a stray bottle on the sidewalk. With a magical glow, it levitated, held aloft in a shimmer of blue light. Dice screwed up his face, and gradually, shakily, the glow faded away – but the bottle remained floating.

“Yeah, we could like, make our own Paranormal Activity movie,” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “It's like that bottle's floating on it's own.”

“I don't think those paranormal movies have the same pull these days,” Dice said dismissively, the glow returning to the bottle briefly before vanishing again as he let it go. “I mean, when one... quarter of the sentient population on the planet can make things levitate and such, the novelty kind of wears off a little.”

“Yeah, you're right,” I nodded, watching the bottle bounce and roll away back into the gutter where we'd found it. “Still one hell of a party trick, though.”

======

My local movie theatre was not the biggest, nor was it the most impressive theatre in the country. It was a darkened ghost town, and that had been before ponification began.

So it was a surprise that the place was still running, two years later – asking around revealed that ponies couldn't get enough of human movies, and the owner had been running at full capacity just to keep up with demand for screenings – anything went, as long as it had humans in it and didn't have too much blood.

Although, nowadays, with the undercurrent of hostility towards ponies in town thanks to the HLF, patronage had dropped off considerably with most ponies leaving town, and it was quickly going back to the way I'd known it back in my childhood.

Standing outside the beige-exteriror-clad cinema in the largely empty parking lot, looking only slightly bored, was M and Gary – the latter sitting on the edge of his car, playing with his phone, while M scrutinized a movie poster on the wall. Gary stopped playing with his phone, and almost instantly, my pocket vibrated.

I fished the phone out, and sure enough:

Gary S says:

What are you, one of your man-o-wars?

“I'm right here,” I called out, and Gary jumped, as he spotted me, and I saw his face go into a frown as he saw Dice at my side.

Gary levered himself off his red convertible, and smoothed out his perpetually-messy hair... or tried to, anyway. Standing at basically the same height and build as myself, but with none of the asian genes, and a fondness for thin, plaid-patterned shirts, Gary had been my best bud since just after primary school. It was a horrible coincidence that his name just happened to be strikingly similar to that of a famously arrogant character from the Pokemon cartoons, and between us, we'd heard and given all the jokes possible about a name like “Gary Soak”.

“Well, hey, Duke. Who's your friend?” Gary's face had gone into what I recognized as his “poker face”, and he'd thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't have a very good poker face, and I could tell he wanted to say something, but had the good grace to hold his fire until I said my bit first. The real bet was on how much he'd let me say before he cut loose with his view on things.

M turned around; standing taller than either me or Gary, we got to constantly make jokes about how short she made us feel. At a towering 6'3”, and with more Norwegian... or something European, anyway, in her than she cared to admit; Magdalene 'M' Oswalds was a veritable tower in the local war-gaming community, always riding the front wave of news about new releases.

Many had remarked that it was a shame her natural beauty was constantly outweighed by a near-obsessive need to wear thick, men's shirts and other horrifically unattractive clothing. Today it was well-worn jeans and the ever-present plaid shirt.

“Oh, Duke... I see you've brought a fourth to the table,” she remarked calmly, leaving the poster and standing next to Gary. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

“Gary, M, meet Dice Roller,” I introduced. “He knows you both already, he's m-”

“I didn't think you swung that way,” blurted out Gary, finally deciding he knew enough to comment on the situation, and cutting me off. I heard Dice swear softly; he must have been generous with his bet. “It... it must take great courage to come out like this. With a pony.”

My face turned purple, and I looked at Dice – the teal-blue pony had wiped any trace of disappointment away, and replaced it with a smug grin on his face, a hoof pointed at me.

“Ice-cream. You owe me.” Dice looked at Gary and M. “Guys – it's me. Literally. I'm Duke.”

“Right, and he's Dice,” M nodded, “I see, we have this funky body-swap thing going on. This is just like one of my Japanese animes, or something.”

“No, I'm Duke too,” I shook my head. “We're the same person – I'm kind of a re-life clone.”

Gary and M's faces zoned out for the briefest of moments, and went taut as they realized the implication.

“You... died?”

“Only for like thirty seconds or something,” Dice assured. “I got tagged by PER on my way home, the serum almost killed me or something. SDC is very prompt.”

Gary looked at the both of us. “So... in a sense, I've got three best-friends now?”

“Yeah, basically,” I nodded.

M shook her head. “I think I need a drink. How often does a friend get duplicated?”

“It's not even noon!” Dice protested.

M checked her wristwatch, and nodded sagely. “Better make it a big one, then.”

======

We sat in the half-lit bar, the somewhat rotund bartender only slightly amused to have customers at this point in the morning. Polished walnut, aged oak, and tumblers of whiskey – as far as we were considered, it was the only way to drink. And right now, we were at round number four.

“I see you've picked up one of the ponyfolk for your little group,” the bartender remarked, idly polishing a glass. “Drinking to celebrate?”

“Ah, in a sense,” M nodded. “I guess you could say it's like he's been part of the group since forever.”

“Right,” the bartender nodded, in that way which subtly hinted he wasn't actually paying attention and he was just making conversation. “Didn't think the ponyfolk were much for drinking; I heard the hardest thing they drink is cider.”

I looked at my pony counterpart. “You might be right.”

Dice was sprawled on the counter, doing his best to lick the whiskey out of the tumbler with his face. It was a totally graceless sight, and it was a blessing the rest of the bar was empty. It was the moment when we realized the alcohol tolerance of the average pony dipped below “lightweight”.

“Whiskey! Come to me!”

“Don't his kind have that magic?” The bartender asked, nodding his bald head at the pathetic pony, who now had the glass stuck to the end of his snout, and seemed to be having trouble getting it off without using his hooves, which he had planted on his stool, so he didn’t fall off. “Couldn't he just... magic the tumbler into the air and drink it like that?”

“You'd think so,” I said, watching Dice chase the glass around the bar. “But try telling him that. I think this is why ponies don't 'do' hard liquor.”

“I can roll all the sixes!” Dice shouted around the tumbler in his mouth, as he banged a hoof on the counter. “So many sixes!”

“Yeah,” Gary nodded. “He's had enough. Let's go.”

======

“You- you guys are my best friends,” Dice mumbled, as he staggered along; The other three of us, being a great deal less sloshed, were taking turns to play bumper and keep him walking roughly in a straight line down the street.

“That's right, Dice,” I stated, gently bumping him back into line. “We're your friends.”

“I thought the saying was,” Gary remarked, “You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink?”

“I'm a pony,” Dice retorted.

“Ah, makes perfect sense, then.”

The four of us kept walking, and M coughed, and looked at me.

“So, you're a clone?”

“Yeah, basically,” I nodded. “Re-life clones are supposed to be just as good as the original; they are a replacement, after all.”

“Did... did dying... hurt?”

I shrugged. “Ask Dice. He's the original, although I think he was unconscious when he 'died'. Kind of like dying on an operating table for a moment – you wouldn't know unless someone told you.”

“Oh.” M sighed. “So, what were you... two? That sounds so weird.”

“I know, right?” Gary chimed in, bringing Dice back into line with a gentle body-check. “Especially since we all know you're both the same guy under it all.”

“The potential for jokes is astounding,” I confirmed. “I'm beside myself with anticipation.”

“Oh ha ha,” M said, “Anyway. Like I was saying, what did you two have planned?”

“Hm? Oh, right. We were going to go get a new bed. Dice doesn't like sharing.”

“Sharing?” Realization dawned on M, as she'd seen my bedroom before once or twice in passing. “Oh, no. What about the couch?”

“I suggested that. But, you know... we're both accustomed to getting the bed. And the Magic Eight Ball we used to resolve the problem told us to 'share'.”

“If the magic eight ball told you to jump off a cliff, would you do that?”

“Honestly? Probably. Thinking's hard when you're recently dead.”

M sighed. “Right. Well, was there anything else?”

“Oh, and a new toilet. Dice can't handle human toilets.”

“When- when you're human,” Dice stammered, “You don't quite realize how much it's designed for two legs and not four.”

“And right now,” Gary stated, nodding towards a pharmacy just down the road, “You're totally legless. Let's get you detoxed.”

“Nooo,” Dice protested weakly as we banded together to force him down a side street, “Not the detox!”

======

“I hate you all,” I mumbled weakly, holding my head with a hoof. “Especially myself.”

I was curled up in a public toilet, hugging the bowl as the nanite injection did it's work. Thankfully, it didn't discriminate between ponies and humans, working just the same for both.

“It's your own fault for being such a lightweight,” Duke stated from the doorway of the bathroom, “And while watching a pony be drunk is amusing for a while, it does get old.”

“Shut up,” I moaned, hunching over the porcelain bowl again. “You're the worst. You're me – you know I hate Deto-huurgh-”

My sentence was ended prematurely by a stream of vomit; Detox wasn't pretty. Nanites took everything that wasn't supposed to be in a human body, and pushed it out the fastest way possible. That way varied from person to person; lucky ones simply had to go pee earlier than usual.

I had to vomit. Still better than the ones who simply had streams of toxins squirting out of every orifice, though – at least I could get all of mine in the bowl.

“Well, you getting arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct is not on the cards,” Gary stated from his perch on the sink's edge, as I wiped my mouth and got up.

“And we're going to Bed, Bath and Beyond,” M added, “You know how much they tolerate the drunk. Not at all.”

======

[Welcome to Bed, Bath and Beyond, Sirs and Madam,] a spindly, mannequin-esque greeter robot said, doing its job and bowing slightly as we drew near. [Alcohol vapors detected. Are any of you intoxicated?]

Bed Bath and Beyond – the tall, off-white, square-built megastore towered over us; me in particular, being equine and the shortest of the group.

“Not any more,” I grumbled.

“No drinking here,” Gary denied.

[Excellent. We hope you enjoy your time at Bed Bath and Beyond.] The greeter stepped aside, and waved us in; we took the offer, looking about.

The place had seen better times; years ago, it had been the go-to for most home-wares and such. But after a few rough financial years, the entire line had been brought out, and now, the “Beyond” really was “Beyond”. Each store was closer to an automated ghost-town, filled with droids performing make-work, awaiting a rush of customers that would probably, and somewhat sadly, never come.

I stepped aside to make way for an aging labor-droid that stalked past, emblazoned with the B3 logo and carrying an old box of what looked like bars of soap.

“Can you imagine people having to do this for a job?” I mused out loud; Gary and M shuddered.

“I'll stick to NanoWare development, thanks,” M stated. “Manual labor. How horrifying.”

“How did humanity survive without 'bots to do things for us, anyway?” Gary asked. “I mean, shit.”

“Hey,” Duke waved a hand at an idling robot, and the spindly creation stalked over to us, plastic-shelled torso glinting with polish as metal met linoleum flooring with a brisk pace.

[Greetings, valued customer! What do you wish to purchase today?]

“We're after a bed,” I stated, only for the robot to ignore me and keep facing my human counterpart. Of course. These robots were pre-Equestria, and none too bright; they wouldn't recognize a pony.

“We're after a bed,” Duke echoed, seeing my plight, and the robot nodded.

[We have beds for sale. Are you after a single or a double?]

Duke looked at me. “Single.”

“Hey, fuck you too,” I said, glaring at Duke. “You think I can't pull like this?”

He just laughed. “Mate, I know you can't pull like that. Not to put too fine a point on it, I can't pull like this.”

I choked back my outrage as the robot began to stalk away, intending to show us the wide range of beds and other homewares they had in stock. The amount of force a B3 droid applied to the up-sell depended entirely on recent sales figures. This Bed Bath and Beyond didn't seem like it cleared much more than a hundred dollars a day.

I swallowed as I ran the numbers in my head. This was going to suck.

======

We staggered out of Bed, Bath and Beyond, followed by labor-droids who were struggling with their own not-inconsiderable loads.

“I don't even know how this happened,” denied Duke, carrying his own small bag of assorted fancy seashell soaps. “How did this happen?”

“We failed our resolve checks,” M mumbled morosely. “Who knew a robot could perform puppy-dog eyes?”

“Natural 20,” Gary grunted, weighed down by a parcel of bed linen. “On the other hand, I do need new sheets. The old ones are disgusting, chocolate stains embedded in them everywhere.”

“Chocolate?” I raised an eyebrow, not nearly as burdened as my human counterparts, despite carrying twice their respective loads. “Why- what are you doing with chocolate, in bed?”

“I- I like to eat chocolate pudding in bed, alright?” Gary said, defensively. “It's not like I watch American soaps in bed at four in the morning!”

“Nobody was saying you did,” M pointed out, stepping to the side to allow the droids to carry my new bed to the truck. Gary blushed.

“What I want to know is,” I said, “Why do you eat chocolate pudding of all things? Isn't the usual custom to eat ice-cream or something?”

“I ran out, okay?” Gary twisted a foot anxiously. “Can we drop this?”

“You know,” Duke said, “We've been over some fairly embarrassing secrets today. I can't get a chick for love or money-”

“That's no secret,” Gary interjected, getting human-me back for the badgering about the pudding.

“-and Gary likes his American soaps. So, M,” Duke leaned in closer, “What secrets do you hide?”

The temperature in the air dropped a few degrees, and Gary and I stepped back carefully. M was renowned for having a long reach, and not much care for collateral damage. And I recalled multiple occasions where I'd pressed on in the face of adversity and been punished quite hard for it.

At this rate, I'd be adding this to the list.

“Uh, Duke,” I piped up, “We, uh, don't need to pry. I think we're good.”

“Come on,” Duke wheedled, ignoring my advice, “We've all spilled the beans. Come oooon.”

Did I mention M managed to completely clock our local arcade's “Dragon Punch”? The one big, burly men had barely clipped 9.5k on out of a possible 9999? That she has a straight right like a rattlesnake?

Duke forgot that. It's not something you forget twice.

Crack.

V - Roll for Exploration

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 5 – Roll for Exploration

“Thank Celestia, I think he's waking up.”

“Luna banish me, you've got one hell of a arm there, lady. Ain't never seen a man get his head rattled that hard since I danced the ring.”

I cracked my eyes open gradually, seeing a bright-yellow horse-like shape, and a teal-coloured horse shape leaning over me; I was lying on a hard, flat surface that I recognized as 'The Ground'. I reacted on instinct, and grabbed the teal one's horn firmly, and yanked the figure closer.

“Dammit, Dice! Why didn't you do something?!”

“Ex-cuse me?” a firm hoof pulled my hand off the teal unicorn, and the bright yellow stallion leaned in close. “I'll ask y' kindly to take your hands off m' wife.”

Two and two met in my head, and I double-checked the teal unicorn – contrary to what I'd thought, they were not Dice. In fact, the unicorn was a mare. So an apology was in order.

“Oh, sorry. Thought you were someone I know.”

“Do I get a 'Sorry', too?” M's voice echoed from above me. I sat up, and looked around.

If there was ever a toilet emporium, this was it; big toilets, little toilets, shiny toilets, matte toilets. The works. Gary and M were perched on toilets, using them as seats; Dice had even found a toilet designed for equines, and was using that.

“Why do I owe you a 'sorry'?” I asked, rubbing my jaw. “You hit me. Hard.”

“By all accounts,” the yellow stallion intervened, “You were all but askin' for it, son.”

“Yeah, but she didn't have to hit me,” I grumbled, “A threat would have done just as well.”

M snorted, and Gary nudged her. “Alright, pay up.”

The tall war-gamer fished a wad of money out of her pocket, and Gary chuckled as she reluctantly gave him the money.

Dice caught my confused look. “They had a wager running on how you'd react,” he explained. “M, seeing hope in your better side, opted to wager on you apologizing off the bat.”

The yellow stallion chuckled, and slicked back his golden mane. “Well, now that that's settled, I figger I should introduce m'self. I'm Buttercup, and this here's m' girl, Ironshod.”

“You sure you got it around the right way?” I asked, sceptically, as I clambered to my feet. 'Buttercup' had a build on his yellow-colored frame more associated with brick outhouses; and 'Ironshod' was a slim, teal colored pony, not too dissimilar to Dice; apart from her mane, which was a shade of grey that seemed to be where her name came from.

“He doesn't look it,” Ironshod remarked, “But Buttercup's just that – a big softie. And that's why I love him.”

“Aw, shucks,” Buttercup tapped the ground. “Anyway. Welcome to ButterShod's Toilet Emporium.”

“Ah.” I hadn't been seeing things. “So, you can have an emporium of only toilets, then.”

“Eeyup,” the yellow salespony nodded. “We were out fer a walk when we saw yer take that hit – good form, by th' way, miss – and we rushed over to help.”

“Well, he rushed in to help,” corrected his partner, “I followed to make sure you weren't going to beat him up.”

“Right,” Buttercup nodded, “Dice Roller there mentioned y'all were looking for toilets, and it just so happens that we run a toilet emporium for both humans and equines! How about that?”

“...yes. How convenient.” I rubbed my jaw. “It's almost like it was foretold by some hack author.”

“Hey, you get that feeling too?” Gary remarked. “I have that all the time, the way things just fall into my lap.”

“I disagree,” voted M, “Duke's got luck so horrid, it can't be written. Remember all the times he's failed to hit those big, easy targets? The +7 CRA on my Mage Hunter?”

“We don't talk about the CRA,” Dice and I said in unison, hoof and hand pointing at her like clockwork.

“Right, sorry.” M didn't look sorry at all, and in fact, seemed to be the complete opposite of “sorry”.

“Well,” Buttercup interjected, “We sell toilets, you're fixin' to buy. Let's talk shop.”

======

“...and this one is the most popular choice for Equestrians,” Buttercup greased, showing us a relatively bowl-like toilet. I looked it up and down. Like most other equestrian toilets, it sat a lot lower than a human toilet, sitting mostly in the ground.

“That's great, but... why? This is just like every other toilet built for ponies here.”

“Ah. Looks like it, doesn't it?” Buttercup motioned me forward, and I hesitated, my eyes betraying what I was worried about. Buttercup chuckled. “Come on, Mr. Roller. Have a seat, right over here. Get a feel for it.”

“Come on,” Duke stated, spotting my hesitation as well, “What are you worried about?”

“...you're just going to stand there and stare at me as I sit on a toilet? Without pants on?”

“Dice,” M raised a hand, and pointed at me. “You're not wearing any pants now. I don't think we're going to see anything we aren't already seeing.”

I blushed, and attempted to cover my modesty with little success. “Way to motivate me, M. Damn, now I know how Unibro feels.”

“Unibro?” Gary asked, then clicked his fingers. “Oh, that guy on IRC. The Unicorn... oh, right, he still wears clothes, huh?”

“Yeah – now I think I know why.”

“Well, that's not too much problem.” Buttercup took my place, and sat on it to demonstrate. “It's not hooked up, but as y' can see, there's a very shiny button here; give it a push, and...”

With a swift click, a small panel in the toilet popped open and retracted, revealing a small nozzle – I realized what it was.

“A bidet.”

“Exactly so, Dice. A godsend for us Earth Ponies who... well...” Buttercup coughed. “Let's say I pushed pretty hard to get one of these for m'self.”

I blushed as I realized the difficulties an earth pony faced in using a toilet or doing anything unsanitary in general, and thanked what lucky stars shone on me that I turned out a unicorn. I then realized why he was trying to sell it to me so hard.

“...you guys aren't doing too well, are you?”

“What gave you that idea?” Ironshod quickly retorted, “Why would you think that?”

“Miss Ironshod,” Gary stated, “It's fairly obvious your husband's trying to sell ice to Eskimos, here. Dice is a unicorn – he doesn't need to use his face to wipe his ass, no offense.”

Buttercup sighed, and sagged visibly. “Yer right. We're in the business of... well, facilitatin' business. And ever since that darned Bed Bath and Beyond became staffed by more machine than man...”

“Not a lot of folks want toilets, you know,” Ironshod said, “Except Chilli 'Con Carnage' Beans; that poor pony set up a weekly delivery for himself, apparently it's easier to replace the toilet altogether than to try and get the marks out of the porcelain.”

We all winced as we imagined what kind of forces had to be at work in a pony with with a name like “Chilli 'Con Carnage' Beans”, in order to leave irreparable stains in the porcelain. They didn't seem pleasant, and my own posterior burned in sympathy pain.

“Yeah,” Buttercup said, rubbing his mane. “Ain't pleasant. Keeps us afloat, though, can't ask for more'n that.”

“Why does Bed, Bath and Beyond have so many robots, anyway?” Ironshod asked my human companions. “Don't humans do work?”

“Oh, we work,” M nodded, “Just... not menial labour - this is an age of technology, after all. Oh, and I suppose you've seen more robots working than humans, because of the mass exodus to Equestria.”

“Although,” Duke pointed out, “It is a little odd, actually. I haven't seen that many useless robots in one place before – it's almost like they're trying to look busy or something.”

We contemplated it – Bed Bath and Beyond 'droids, up to something? The silence lasted about five seconds, before we all burst out laughing.

“Ha ha, right, right,” Buttercup chortled, “An' the newspaper office back home has a cannon to shoot things at the moon.”

“...does it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well...” Buttercup rubbed his mane with a hoof, “There was a rumour that the 'daily offices had a 'moon cannon'; but those rumors also said somepony called 'Midnight Shadow' worked there, too – but whenever we looked, he was always 'out', or 'on th' moon'. So, probably not.”

“Oh, Equestria,” I chuckled. “What's it like over there, by the way?”

“Hm? Equestria?” Ironshod perked up. “Oh, it's just wonderful. The sun's bright, the sky is clear, the clouds are fluffy... heaven on earth, really.”

“Huh.” I leaned on a nearby toilet. “One day, I should move out there, check it out.”

“Careful, you might never come back! Ha!”

I laughed alongside everyone else... except Duke. He was looking at me funny, and there was a distinct lack of mirth in his eyes.

“What's up, man?” I asked, as the conversation about Equestria carried on in the background, Gary and M keeping Buttercup and Ironshod occupied with discussion of the land behind the omnidirectional magical barrier.

“I... I'm getting all conflicted, Dice.” Duke rubbed his arm anxiously, a sign I recognized as him having no idea how to phrase something. “I mean, you're me, and I'm you, right?”

“More or less. Why?”

“I... I have a problem. Equestria sounds like something I want to see. It really does. You know I'm telling the truth about that.” That was quite true – much like a 'future password', the one thing that only I could tell myself was how much I really wanted to go to Equestria – it had been a sizable argument for ponifcation in my mind. Which was why the next part was a stunner.

“It's just that... now I can't go there.”

“What's stopping you?” I blinked in surprise, baffled. How often did you surprise yourself like that? “We'll find a bureau and get you changed there; done right, it should be like nine hundred times better than what I went through.”

“But... I'm you.”

“I don't get it.” I really didn't. Before, we'd been running from a script, and I was able to guess Duke's next move based on what I knew I'd do – but now... we were off the rails.

“If I become a pony...” Duke leaned in closer. “I'll be the clone again! Don't you see?” Duke straightened. “Right now, I'm me, and you're you – I can't be the clone if we're totally different like this. But if I become a pony... I'm you. I'm the clone again.”

“Come on, man,” I gestured with a hoof. “Is that what you're worried about? That you're somehow less of a person for being a clone?”

“Easy for you to say,” Duke grumbled, “You're the original. We'd be both the same, from genome to jeans.”

“Well, we've got contacts who know stuff about Potion,” I reminded, “We can just ask them to track down a potion formula that will cause you to turn into a different pony from me. Bam, problem solved.”

“Really?” Duke nodded, and made approving noises. “I hadn't thought of that. That would be nice – anything as long as I don't become you.”

“That's a wee bit insulting,” I bridled, “But I get what you mean.”

“You promise to help me?”

“Why wouldn't I? You're my flesh and blood, literally - you've got my word,” I swore, holding out a hoof. “And you know what that's worth.”

Duke chuckled, and obliged me, and brought knuckle to hoof in a swift movement, sealing the deal.

“Our word isn't worth the paper it's not written on.”

======

We bid farewell to Buttercup and Ironshod, after arranging payment and delivery for the new toilet – M and Gary both yawned and stretched.

“Ugh,” M groaned, “I have work that needs doing. Don't wanna work.”

“At least your nanoware doesn't have this irritating glitch,” Gary gestured, “It just locks up every few seconds, it really pisses me off, and I can't work out why.”

“Uh,” I said, holding up a hoof, “I think we'll leave you two tech-heads to each other; see you tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah, see you tomorrow,” Gary waved, beginning to walk away, while illustrating his programming hardships to M. I watched them go, and shook my head.

“Come on, Duke. Let's get home, we can hit Unibro up about the potion. I mean, there's practically one for every occasion – surely one of them will work in ours.”

I began to cross the street, and realized Duke wasn't following. I turned around.

“What's wron-”

WHUMP

Ever been hit by a car? It sucks. Very painful. I was fortunate that this time, the driver was doing their best to slow down. Even then, small equine body met luxurious silver-chrome radiator grille and bumper at something like thirty kilometres an hour.

I was a unicorn, but for a moment, I knew what it was to fly. That was a sensation that lasted all of two seconds, before I hit the ground and bounced. Horses might win in a car crash, but apparently Equestrian ponies didn't.

The sound of doors clicking, and pneumatics whirring echoed through my dazed head, as I struggled, rolling onto my side.

“Jeeves, you fool – look what you have done!”

[Apologies,] a voice intoned, [I did not process his presence fast enough.]

“Am I going to have to recalibrate you, Jeeves?” hard hands gripped my shoulders, and held me still. My vision stopped swimming, and I found myself eye-to-optical-sensor with a silver-chrome-plated humanoid head that didn't look too dissimilar to a mannequin, two small red cyber-eyes twitching as they examined me.

“Great,” I mumbled, “More droids.”

“Droid?” The robot moved back – dressed in tidy business-wear, he looked like a very shiny executive. The polished and sleek black car next to him echoed that sentiment – it looked not only luxurious and spacious, but fast as well; it probably cost more than I ever made in a year, easily. I thought I could see a humanoid shape through the tinted windshield – it even had it's own driver!

The robot cleared a digital throat, and continued. “I'm close, but I'm still technically a cyborg. But enough about me – you were hit by my car.” A chrome hand extended out to me. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” I grunted, wrapping a hoof around the proferred hand, and getting up with the self-proclaimed cyborg's help. “Although I don't see how you can be a cyborg. You look all robot to me... no offence.”

“None taken. I've undergone a substantial amount of operations for me to wind up the way I am, and now it's all in the mind... or brain, as it were.” The cyborg bowed. “My name is Lexicon, and I am very sorry that we had to meet like this.”

“Darn straight, man,” Duke entered the conversation, having finally shaken himself to sense and caught up. “That was one hell of a hit. Although, you did get a lot of air, Dice. Like, ten feet, at least.”

“Please, I must make it up to you.” Lexicon, despite having a polished, smooth metal face, somehow managed to radiate genuine concern. “Perhaps I could take you to where you were planning on going next?”

“Well,” I considered Lexicon's offer. “Why not? It'll save us time.”

“Excellent. Jeeves, please open the door for our new friends.”

Duke and I watched as one of the doors clicked open, and shrugged, as we moved around the car, and got in.

======

“This is one hell of a seat,” Dice mumbled, bouncing up and down on the plush leather seat – I wasn't so blatant, but I shared his sentiments.

Lexicon just sat in silence as we watched him bounce up and down while shifting about, trying to find the optimal sitting position.

“I hope you're not too injured.” Lexicon apologized again.

“Not at all,” Dice dissuaded, “It's just that I've never... ridden in a car... as a pony before. Damnit!” The pony gave up, and slumped in the seat, hind-legs hanging off the edge. “I feel so exposed like this.”

“I'm sorry,” Lexicon apologized, beginning to sound like a broken record, “I don't have pony-friendly seats, most of my passengers are humanoid associates of mine.”

“What exactly do you do, Mr. Lexicon?” I asked, turning to my left to address the robot.

“Me? I am the owner and proprietor of the local Bed Bath and Beyond.” Lexicon placed a hand on his suit-clad chest-plate. “Among other things. I have quite the portfolio.”

“You?” I boggled at the opulently rich interior of the car – it had it's own mini-bar, for chrissakes, and could easily carry ten other people comfortably. “These don't look like the trappings of someone who runs a dying home-wares franchise.”

“Of course not. I played the stock market for a while, walked out with a sizable fortune,” Lexicon nodded. “I've got the body, I have the money, now all I need is the women, huh?”

The wealthy cyborg nudged me in the upper arm with an elbow, and I chuckled half-heartedly.

“Ha ha, yeah...” I coughed. “So, why take on a Bed, Bath and Beyond?”

“I felt like... a challenge. Yes, a change of pace. Know how hard it is to make a place like that profitable in this day and age?”

“Very.”

“Indeed.” Lexicon rested a metal elbow on his windowsill, and looked out the window at the passing suburbia. “Automation – everything has to be automated, everything must be perfect. Ponies and humans make mistakes. Machines do not.”

“Can you really say that?” I waved a hand, idly. “I mean, you were human once.”

“And I made mistakes,” Lexicon nodded. “But now, I am close to achieving perfection as I can. This is your residence?”

The car slowed to a halt, and I nodded as I looked out the window and saw my house, just as I'd left it this morning.

“That's us,” Dice confirmed, and opened the door with his magic. “Man, I need to get some pants or something.”

We got out of the car, and walked around it to stand on the sidewalk, as Lexicon rolled down his window with a quiet buzz of motors, and looked at the two of us.

“Once again, I am so very sorry about the hitting-you-with-a-car thing. Please, do not hesitate to think of me if you need a favour; I think I owe you.”

With a flick of his cybernetic wrist, Lexicon produced a small, cream-white business card, and tossed it to me; I caught it in a remarkable feat of hand-eye coordination, and the fancy car began to pull away, the window rolling back up as it drove down the street. I looked at the card in my hand.

LexiconManager, Bed Bath and BeyondBusiness: 555-7373Mobile: 555-2939-484Email: lexicon@sdi.net

“What an odd guy,” Dice muttered. “Think he was up to something?”

“Think?” I shook my head. “I know it. We step out of his competitor's shop, and he just happens to hit one of us with a car? There's coincidence, and conspiracy. I think this is the latter.”

======

I sat down in my chair, and spun gently as it swivelled with my momentum, bringing me to a perfect halt facing my computer. A small icon in the corner of my screen blinked slowly, indicating that someone wanted to talk to me.

<@Unibro> DoUK, you there

I checked the timestamp, as Dice trotted over.

“Unibro again?”

“Yeah – good timing, too,” I remarked, and tapped out a response.

<+DoUK> I'm here. What's up?

<@Unibro> Excellent

<@Unibro> I just did some reading on magic training

<@Unibro> You probably want to work out the special talent of the trainee first.

<+DoUK> You mean what his butt marking means?

<@Unibro> If you wanna be crass about it, yeah

Dice's eyes roved left and right as he followed the conversation.

“Huh. What next?”

<+DoUK> What after that?

<@Unibro> Well, you play to your strengths

<@Unibro> Most unicorns can do any sort of magic

<@Unibro> But the ones related to their talent are the strongest

<@Unibro> Example: I heard of a unicorn who had one hell of a knack for engineering

<@Unibro> He could work metal with his mind

<@Unibro> But for everypony else, his techniques just didn't want to work as well.

<@Unibro> Another one I know, he had a knack for fire

<@Unibro> Give that pony a match, he gives you a raging inferno in ten minutes, somehow.

I looked at Dice. “What's your talent?”

“Don't look at me,” the teal unicorn held up a dismissive hoof, “I have two dice on my ass. That could mean anything.”

<+DoUK> He says it's just two dice on his ass, has no idea what it might actually be for.

<@Unibro> Fair enough. I'll send a letter to Equestria, see if any of their Cutie Mark symbologists can work out what it might mean.

<@+DoUK> wait, before you go

<@Unibro> What's up?

<+DoUK> I'm thinking... I might want to be a pony one day. But I don't want to be Dice.

<+DoUK> Any potion formulas out there that might fit the bill? Ponify me, but make me different from Dice?

<@Unibro> Hm

<@Unibro> I think we've got one floating around here that you might be interested in.

<@Unibro> But there's a wee problem with it

<+DoUK> What kind of problem?

<@Unibro> Hmm. Well, I'll find it first. You won't wind up like Dice, though, I guarantee it. I'll talk more about it when I find it.

<+DoUK> Appreciate it.

<@Unibro> If that's all, I have a letter to write.

I pushed away from the computer, and looked at Dice, who was looking back at me with a mild expression of concern.

“Well,” the unicorn nodded. “Looks like you might get what you wished for, after all.”

I looked at my hands. Was it really possible? Could I find a new life as a pony without becoming Dice? I searched deep within my soul, and-

Thfffpphhhffffrrrt

My train of thought was brought to a screeching halt by one of the loudest examples of flatulence I'd ever heard... I sniffed, and retched. Add “worst smelling” to the list, too.

I looked at the source, a rather sheepish-looking Dice, who looked at his hooves and other things in the room that weren't me.

“Golly,” he tried to say nonchalantly, and doing a terrible job of it, “Who did that one?”

I fixed him with a glare, and he blushed.

“Yeah, I gotta go use the toilet. Get the towels and bath ready.”

Da BunnanaKing:

I want to visit this place.

Rainbow Dash:

Jameson. The official liquor of TCB.

originalspot:

Than you for spotting that one. Supposed to be Jeeves - Jamesons are older models.

Rainbow Dash:

*Krass xD

Rainbow Dash:

Ch-cherries?

originalspot:

Shhh. You'll give it away.

VI - Interlude: Dexterity Training

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 6 – Interlude: Dexterity Training

“Right, so, let’s try that again.”

I sat on the couch, arms resting on my knees as I hunched over, watching Dice train - sitting in the middle of the living room, he was surrounded by a semicircle of old bench-press weight discs, arranged in order of weight.

The teal unicorn focused on the second from the left, a fifteen-kilogram weight, which was one of the lighter ones. His magic surrounded it, and it lifted into the air, wobbling slightly. The small feat was proving to be stressful already, Dice’s face contorted in exertion as he kept the weight aloft.

“Okay, now try for the ten kilo weight, see if you can get multitasking down.”

“Fffff...” spluttered Dice, “Goddamnit!”

He managed to manifest a glow of magic around the lightest weight, weighing just 10kg, and it hobbled into the air, before falling out of a clumsy magical grip, and landing on the ground again with a whud. The heavier weight followed it quickly, with a clang.

“Aaaahgh,” Dice groaned, as he rubbed the base of his horn. “Ow. I think we’ve established what I can throw about with my magic, i.e. as much as I could carry as a human.”

“Right.” I checked off a piece of paper on a clipboard. “What’s next... dexterity?”

“Why are we testing this stuff, again?” Dice groaned, walking out of the lounge, and around the corner as he made his way to the kitchen.

“To test your magic, see if that offers a clue to what you’re good at!” I shot back, hearing the rattle of bottles and such as the fridge was tugged open.

“What if I don’t want to know what my talent is?” a part-muffled voice called back, and the fridge rattled again as Dice re-emerged, carrying a can of coke in his mouth. “What if I don’t really care?”

“Now that’s bullshit,” I retorted, “How can you not care? I would!”

“You’re not me.”

I blew a raspberry. “I’m enough you to know you do care.”

“Believe what you want to believe.” Dice cracked the can open by setting it on the ground and prying with his teeth, succeeding. “So, what’s the plan, such as it is?”

“Well,” I said, consulting the post-it I’d written the training plan on, “We’re gonna play some videogames.”

“Like?” Dice looked at me. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from, but I can’t think of any game which would make a good middle-ground for testing that sort of thing.”

I got up, and walked over to the bookshelf on the far wall; below a row of books, sat my collection of videogames - Gary and M often gave me crap over having six shelves dedicated to holding physical cases for videogames, but I felt it helped when deciding what to play.

“DJ Max?”

“Fuck off,” Dice snorted, “Can’t even beat that shit with fingers, how am I gonna do it with magic?”

“TF2?”

“We want a game, not a hat simulator.” Dice mimed putting objects on his head with a stupid expression on his face, and I got the point.

“True...” I ran my fingers along the spines, and stopped. “Here’s one. Serious Sam.”

“Hm.” Dice tapped his chin. “I think I can handle that.”

======

“To your left, your left,” Duke urged, playing backseat-shooter, looking over my shoulder.

“I see it,” I reassured, my magic playing over the keyboard and moving the mouse with dexterity that was both super-human... and sub-brick. “I see it-”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- BOOM

“Fuck!” I pushed away from the computer in disgust.

“Apparently not,” Duke remarked, smugly.

“I had the double-barrel, and I was reloading. What was I supposed to do about that?”

“Suck less?”

“Let’s see you do better.” I folded my hooves, and turned up my snout.

“Fine, I will,” Duke boasted, and I vacated my seat, to let Duke take the controls. He pulled himself closer to the slowly spinning image of our dead avatar, and loaded the most recent savegame.

I watched him go, navigating small obstacles with much greater finesse than I had. And the way he was carrying on, I could tell he’d already forgotten what I ran into around this next corner - my slow pace had allowed me to avoid the trap, but Duke-

*crunch*

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” my grin was wider and fuller than it had been in weeks. “Where are your finger gods now?”

“Shut up.” Duke fumed a little, then brightened. “Why don’t we try playing something multiplayer?”

“This?” I pointed at the screen of failure, and Duke snorted.

“Nah, we play something a bit more forgiving.”

======

The sound of rumbling engines filled the air, as two sports cars, one green and one teal, did donuts in the middle of a five-way intersection, waiting for more players.

“I mean, Burnout: Paradise kind of sucks compared to the other games,” Duke’s green car remarked, “What with that silly Burnout Store and all, but gotta hand it to them; the freeburn thing is pretty cool.”

“Why are we listening to the classical music tracks while we do this?” I paused the game, and looked at the playlist, carefully manipulating the controller with my magic, and getting used to having more than one thumb on each invisible hand. “All the songs have been disabled apart from Girlfriend, which is a race-only song, and the classical tracks, which only play when we’re not racing.”

“Gotta have music to race to.”

“But... seriously? Girlfriend?” I unpaused the game without warning, and Duke’s car spun out of control to the tune of Mozart.

“Hey, we like that song,” Duke remarked, as digital metal crunched and a very expensive-looking car became the accordion model, “At least, I’m sure we do.”

“...point. Who are we waiting for?”

“I got Hatless on the horn,” Duke counted off our friends on the fingers of one hand, “and I think UniBro’s getting his hands on a copy of Burnout as we speak. Also, open party, so anyone out there that actually still plays this game can just jump on in.”

We resumed our donuts, when a small notification popped up, and the player list grew by one. The sound of a scratching mic sounded, and someone cleared their throat.

“Hey, Douk. What’s up?” a male voice crackled over the speakers, and coughed. “Sorry, got a bad bout of the flu or something.”

“Hi, Hatless,” we replied in unison, the microphones on our headsets picking up our voices, and the anonymous racer arrived at our intersection, coming to a halt dead on the line, watching us circle endlessly.

“Oh, hey, Douk’s friend. Did Douk rope you into this? You played Burnout before?”

I laughed. “You could say I’ve had a bit of practice.”

“Oh, good. I won’t need to go easy on you, then.”

I just laughed harder. “Right, I think you’ll find me quite a challenge.”

Hatless revved his yellow car’s engine. “You sound so sure of yourself, Douk’s friend.”

The game blooped, and a small message announced that “Default” had joined the game. Duke cocked an eyebrow.

“Default? You forgot to change your name.”

A small text message materialized in the corner: BRB.

As quickly as he’d arrived, Default left the game, and I rubbed my head, scratching under the headset.

“Ten bucks says that’s Unibro,” wagered Duke, and I snorted.

“Remember? We can’t wager on money any more.”

“Right,” Duke rubbed his chin. “Hatless, give us some form of wager that doesn’t involve money or property.”

“Ask for little things, don’t you, Douk? Gimme a moment.” The sound of humming came from the yellow car, and the engine revved thoughtfully. “I don’t really see how we can do this any other way than either sexual favours-”

“Don’t roll that way, Hatless,” Duke said, a warning tone to his voice.

“-OR,” the yellow car honked its horn, “You make it a favor. One favor, of any calibre.”

“Bit extreme, isn’t it, Hatless?” I pointed out, concernedly.

Hatless’ car began to circle the intersection. “Well, it’s hardly a wager if you’re playing low stakes.”

“Well, it might be a bit much for just betting on who it was that just joined before,” I mused, “But, alright. I’m game - who knows, you might win and clear that ice-cream debt you owe me.”

“You owe your buddy ice cream? How much?”

“As much as I can eat,” I declared, “Isn’t that right?”

Duke sighed, and gave in. “He wagered that I couldn’t break the news about my new room-mate to my friends without one of them taking it the wrong way.”

“Room mate?” Hatless stopped driving as he put two and two together. “Are you...?”

“Hatless, what’d I just say?”

“Ha ha,” Hatless did a short burnout, “Chill, Douk. I know. I’m just rustlin’ your jimmies. Who’s the roomie?”

“That’d be me,” I chuckled, “Dice Roller. Unicorn.”

“Another unicorn? Are you sure you aren’t like that, Douk?” The voice channel devolved into cackling laughter, and a short hacking cough.

The game bleeped again, and we were four racers strong with “Unibro” back in our midst.

There, got it, unibro wrote, What’s up, guys?

“Not a lot,” Duke replied, “Got Dice here with me, we’re brushin’ up on his dexterity.”

Dexterity with video games? That’s a novel way to approach it.

“Got no mic, there, Uni?” Hatless mused, as a black car jerked and shuddered it’s way to the intersection, accelerating erratically. The car stopped for a brief moment, and -

Quiet, you.

“Ha ha. Hey, I just realized we’ve got two horners in this party. I guess ponies really are taking over the world.”

“Dat’s racist,” Duke said, in the most childlike voice he could, and it met with chuckles. I joined in, and gradually brought my mirth to a halt, wiping my eyes with the back of a hoof.

“Right, so, should we get started?”

======

The racing was fast and brutal, as it usually was when Hatless and I went head-to-head in any racing game. To my pleasure, Dice was easily keeping up with Hatless and I, despite the magical manipulation handicap. At the back of the pack, Unibro was keeping up, although he was rapidly getting the hang of driving digital cars through traffic at high speeds, and was starting to nip at our rear bumpers with regular occurrence.

And to top it all off, we’d become very adept at singing the chorus to the eponymous theme song of Burnout, Girlfriend.

I watched as my car spun out and hit a barrier side-on, and Unibro zoomed on by, not breaking stride, despite having been responsible for ramming my rear-wheels out sideways.

“You sure you haven’t played this game before, Uni?”

Unibro stopped accelerating for a scant split second, and a reply flashed up on screen. Never played a game like this before, I really like it.

“Oh,” Dice hummed, rotating the controller awkwardly as he maneuvered his car around a corner. “You seem to know your stuff, you’re pulling some fancy takedowns, there.”

Aggressive driving course, it was mandatory training, way back when.

“Aggressive driving, huh?” Hatless’s car swerved left and right, trying to block Dice as they wound their way up the mountain road, “Another piece of the puzzle. One day, we’ll work out what you did, Unibro.”

Good luck with that.

The banter continued on as we kept racing; I watched as Dice’s brow began to crease less with the effort of manipulating the controller, and more with trying to beat Hatless at a game he seemed to play exclusively.

It got to the point where Dice was racing through the game’s main street, weaving between cars, while drinking from a can of coke at the same time, which I pointed out.

“Hey, you’re right, I am,” Dice exclaimed, careful to not let go of the controller or the can.

Hey, multiple-object manipulation?

“What’s that when it’s got boots on?” Hatless asked, drifting between two oncoming cars and boosting down the avenue.

Dice is a newfoal, dunno if he said.

A smash of metal, and I watched Unibro’s car sail over mine, a crumpled wreck.

Fuck. He’s been a pony for just a day, and he’s already got stuff down that would take the average newfoal a week or so at least to learn. Trust me - I gotta teach the bastards.

“Ha,” Hatless chortled, “I don’t envy you. That’s gotta be like pushing shit uphill with a stick.”

It’s not so bad. At least newfoals listen.

Our conversation was cut short as the game slowed to a crawl, and the game announced that the race was over, someone having won; a picture of an incredibly smug-looking face sat in the middle of a laurel wreath, getting chortles out of us.

“Oh, Hatless,” Dice remarked, “Still using good ol’ trollface?”

“You know it.”

The blip of a new player joining sounded, and we all checked the player list.

“Oh, look. Another Default,” Hatless remarked. “Anyone you guys know?”

I didn’t mention this to anyone.

“Neither,” I declined, “I did set the party to ‘open’, though.”

“Oh, a new player. Hi, Default.”

A midnight-blue car caught up to us, and remained silent, gunning the engine. Dice snorted.

“No mic either, huh?”

We waited, but there was no response. I shrugged.

“Oh well, a straight race okay with you guys?”

“I’m keen,” Hatless declared, “I do enjoy beating human players at this game, for once. The AI just don’t cut it.”

I’m okay with a race. This time, it shall be me who wins.

Dice nodded. “Hit it.”

The midnight-blue car just revved its engines, and I sighed. I guessed that was a “yes”.

“Alright, we race.”

======

“My hands!”

I looked at my human counterpart, who put the controller down, and massaged his hands. I raised an eyebrow.

“You okay, Duke?”

“No! Ow!” Duke rotated his wrist, and I winced at the crackling noises it was making. “Wrists don’t do this! I can’t go on!”

“Yeah... I can’t keep up any more,” Hatless lamented, “I’m gonna throw in the towel on this one. Whoever Default is, they know their way around a controller. Ow.”

You’re all children, Unibro typed out, Can’t handle the heat?

“Apparently not,” I stated, still driving. The midnight-blue Default had gotten off to a slow start, but in no time at all, it was them who was pushing at, and eventually sitting comfortably in the lead. Even Hatless had eventually fallen to what seemed like tirelessly relentless driving.

Of the four of us, only Unibro and I remained driving, trying to at least deny Default victory. It was futile; with tauntingly effortless ease, Default was always one step ahead of us; even Unibro’s aggressive driving wasn’t enough to put Default into a wall, and the less said of my clumsy attempts to drive Default into traffic, the better.

“Default can’t even be human,” Duke bemoaned. “No human can drive like this. It’s been six hours, already. They gotta be wearing down at some point.”

“I gotta admit, he’s right,” Hatless collaborated, “This shouldn’t be physically possible.”

It’s happening right now.

We rounded the last corner - just a half-kilometer stretch stood between us and the finish line for this race. Default was out in front, Unibro and I nipping at his back bumper; in all the time Default had been racing with us, we’d never, ever managed to score a takedown on him - we all had him down as a rival by now, and the sore point was that we couldn’t so much as trade paint with the guy, much less a revenge takedown.

My headset clicked, and a small message appeared - someone had opened a private channel with me.

“Dice, it’s me, Uni.” The internet-surfing unicorn’s voice was hurried, but calm. “I have a plan.”

I quickly muted the general channel. “What’s the plan, Uni?”

“I’ll keep this guy busy, you take the ramp coming up on the left, and land the car on top of him, take his ass out.”

I knew the ramp. But the angle it would put me on... “If I do that, I take you out as well. You can hardly win like that.”

“You win, we both win, because Default loses. Ramp’s coming up fast, be ready.”

I returned my attention to the game - sure enough, just a hundred meters out from where we were, on the left, was the ramp, parked on the side of the road; and another hundred metres beyond that, the finish line. If we pulled it off, it would take out Default just metres short of the finish line.

Unibro’s car moved to harass Default’s from the right, and the plan was put in motion; Unibro appeared to attack normally, going for his usual pit maneuver that he’d executed on the rest of us so often. Default responded by dropping their speed just enough so that Unibro was trying to push the front wheels, not the rear ones. I swerved, and aimed for the ramp.

I only clipped it, one wheel riding up the structure, and I swore loudly, my curse melding with Unibro’s as my car began to spin a low barrel-roll - past experience had told us that this was a bad thing, rarely had any of us managed to pull off a proper barrel roll off one of the purpose-built ramps, let alone a half-flanked roll off a mis-jump.

I crossed non-existent fingers, and prayed to whatever gods might be listening. Please, give me dysentery, give me plague and famine; just give me this, and help me put Default in their place.

My car continued to spiral through the air with almost lazy ease - I realized that against all odds, the car was not only going to land on its wheels, but also on top of Default!

Default wasn’t sleeping on the job, though, and had one trick up their sleeve still; without another car to keep them boxed in, they were free to simply swerve to the left, and that’s just what they did; Unibro’s car was then free to take Default’s place, just like we’d predicted.

Crunch - The game-world went into slow motion as my car ran rampant over Unibro’s, landing on the ground with a shower of digital sparks; on my left, Default. And a divider. I realized the unicorn’s plan for what it had been all along. I was never going to land on Default... I was going to stop him moving right and avoiding the barrier that Unibro had tricked him into strafing into.

A small smile crept across my face as my own teal-colored sportscar solidly blocked Default, and that turned into a full-blown grin as Default suffered their first takedown of the session. Next to me, Duke cheered as my car slipped past the barrier and Default’s wreckage, and flew across the finish line, followed by a hail of car-parts as Unibro’s car wreckage skidded across the line after me.

“YOU DID IT!” Duke cheered, “You beat Default!”

“No,” I corrected, “Unibro helped. We did it.”

“No, no,” Unibro said over the voice channel, the private channel now public that the race was over, “That was all you.”

“What do you mean?” I was perplexed.

“Yeah,” Hatless chimed in, “I saw you two moving, you planned that. Also, you liar - you said you had no mic.”

“I planned the vertical takedown,” denied Unibro, “It was never part of the plan for Default to escape that one. And I never said I didn’t have one, I just told you to shut up.”

“Wait,” Duke pointed at the screen as Default rolled across the line at a speed that made an old woman with a zimmer frame look fast, “That means...”

Default’s car pulled a quick burnout, then, after twitching and jerking erratically for a moment, vanished.

Default has left the game (Disconnected)

I put the controller down. “How did...?”

“Luck,” Unibro said, “Straight luck. Celestia knows we needed it to get at least one back on Default.”

“Default’s got a temper like ass, though,” chortled Duke, “Did you see that rage-quit? Classic! Can’t even handle losing just once.”

“Oh, Duke, while I’ve got the headset,” Unibro’s car skidded to a halt next to mine, “Just wanna say that the thing you requested’s getting shipped tomorrow. I’m afraid that there’s only one dose of what you wanted that I’ve been able to track down; and even then, I’ve had to call in a few favours.”

“Appreciate it, Uni,” Duke nodded.

“Well, this has been swell,” Hatless said, with a nonchalant air about his voice, “But I gotta go do stuff. Catch you guys later.”

“I think I’ll get going, too. Want to catch some z’s before I have to get up again and work,” groused Unibro. “Nice work, Dice.”

“Right. Laters, guys.” I turned the console off, and looked at Duke, a smile creeping across our faces.

“Best. Day. Ever.”

=======

Far away, the sound of platinum-shod hooves on tiles filled the corridor, as Princess Luna, mistress of the night, stalked the corridors of her palace. She was a mare on a mission, and she had somepony to visit. She made her way down to a small room in the second floor, and knocked on the door.

“Coming,” a voice rang out, and the door swung open to reveal an earth pony wearing the strangest set of goggles ever conceived - they looked like a homemade set of magnifying goggles, fabricated from a set of old Wonderbolts-merchandise goggles.

Behind him, a dark bedroom had an armchair set up in front of a television running old documentaries about how things worked ran near silently, the only source of illumination in the room.

“Ah, Sky Limit, how are you this evening?” Luna asked brightly. The earth pony bristled at the full use of his name. That was never a good sign, her trying to grease up the engineer.

“Highness, what did you break this time?”

“This.” Luna’s head bowed in shame, and she lifted a wing, withdrawing the twisted, mangled remains of a controller from underneath; at one point, it had been a human-scale controller, made from what looked like solid metal; but that had proven little resistance against the titanic forces which had torn it asunder.

Sky took the broken controller in his hooves, and swore softly as he turned it around. “Princess, this was made of the hardest metal I could find here or on earth - how did you break this?”

“I... got mad.”

“Over those videogame things?” Sky tutted, and placed it in his mouth so he could walk properly. “ You need to work on your temper.”

Luna’s eyes flashed for the briefest of moments with terrible power, promising a very sudden and lethal end to Sky, who backtracked hastily, catching the hint.

“I mean, sure, I’ll fix it, Princess.” Sky quickly and carefully retreated, shutting the door, and sighed as he leaned against it for a moment, before, throwing the controller to the side - he said he’d fix it, but that was a lie. There was no saving a controller after Luna was done with it.

Crawling under the bed; a few seconds later, he re-emerged, dragging a box; he reached in, and produced an exact duplicate of the wrecked controller, and put it aside, returning the box to it’s hiding place with a kick.

He then turned to the small mountain of broken controllers in the corner, and sighed. It was a king’s ransom in scrap metal alone, never mind the human electronics and magical runes of reinforcing he’d imbued each controller with.

He checked the calendar, and grumbled. Time for the monthly salvage and repair, then. He turned on the lights, turned off the TV, and sat down to prepare another month’s worth of controllers.

VII - Special Delivery

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 7 – Special Delivery

A sharp rapping on the door roused me from my fitful slumber, and I groaned as I got up, and stretched; my shoulder clicked, and I grunted as my spine straightened. I was getting way too old to be sleeping on the couch.

Although, I wouldn’t be sleeping here if Dice hadn’t cheated at Rock, Paper, Scissors.

“Let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors, winner gets his pick of bed or couch,” I decided, “Fuck me if we’re asking the well-adjusted magic eight ball again.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

We presented our choices: I’d chosen Rock, and Dice didn’t seem to have picked anything.

“I picked rock, Dice.”

“I pick scissors.”

“Rock beats scissors,” I pointed out, indicating my closed fist.

“Really, now?” A pair of scissors levitated up in a haze of magic, and snapped open and shut pointedly.

I groaned as the banging on the front door intensified. I guess it’d be my job to get the door, too. Thankfully, sleeping on the couch meant I didn’t feel pressured to actually change clothes at all, so I was (sort of) presentable already.

“Hurry up, open the door,” an irritated, female voice demanded. “I don’t like this neighborhood.”

“Coming!” I stumped my way to the door, yawning, and undid the deadbolt, opening it. The pony standing on the other side made me take a step back in surprise. “Are you... Rainbow Dash?”

“The one and only,” boasted the polychromatic speedster, striking a brief pose, “Heard of me, huh?”

“Well, yeah... you beat that jet-fighter in a race. That was pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow jogged on the spot for a moment, “I’d be impressed, too. Anyway, nice to meet a fan and all; but I’ve got a package for Duke Cooper.”

“That’s me,” I pointed at myself, then frowned. “Since when did you do shipping?”

“You kidding me? I ship all the time for my friends, although I’ve been seeing a lot of Twilight lately.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Anyway, Twi said she needed somepony to fly this over here super-fast, so if you don’t mind...” Rainbow Dash reached into her saddle-bags, and produced a small box and a clipboard, “ould oo ease eign is?”

I took the items; the small box was tiny, barely larger than a book, and the clip-board had a bunch of lines marked with red x’s, indicating I should sign with the pen attached to the board - some of it was the usual “sign for delivery” stuff, but there were also pain waivers, and other nasty legal documentation, all rolled into one sheet. I obliged, and filled it out, while Rainbow Dash cantered on the spot, looking around.

“This is one hay of a neighborhood to live in, Mr. Cooper,” she remarked, “PER and HLF activity reports all over the place, last time I looked.”

“Tell me about it. There, that should be enough,” I handed the clip-board back to Rainbow, and she returned it to it’s place in her saddlebags.

“Awesome. That’s done - gotta dash,” Rainbow spun around and paused, mid-take-off, looking back at me. “You know, you’ve got some serious pull to get Twilight to drop everything and crack open the potion vault like that.”

“She what?”

“You didn’t know about this?” Rainbow Dash looked surprised, and shrugged. “Well, I saw her put a letter in that parcel, so perhaps that’ll explain it. See you around, maybe!”

Without waiting for a response, the rainbow-maned pegasus shot into the sky like a rocket, kicking up dust and stray leaves in her wake, and carved a rainbow arc through the air; I shut the door, and returned inside with my parcel.

I spun it on a finger idly as I sat down on the couch again, and pried it open; inside was a small, metallic tube, sealed with a screw-cap, and a small rolled-up note. I put the box down, and extracted the micro-scroll, reading it.

Dear Duke Cooper,

An associate of mine said you were looking for a variant of ponifcation serum that would make you completely different from who you were before.

Unfortunately, while I was able to locate a serum that could facilitate this, there are issues and reasons why we never made this particular formula publicly available in the first place.

The main flaw is that it’s super-concentrated. This was achieved by removing excess fluids, which include the anesthetics. You will be awake for the transformation, and I assure you, it (probably) will not be pleasant. It was unpleasant enough for your human governments to deem the serum ‘inhumane’. As the counterpoint to this flaw, recovery time is vastly reduced; testing has indicated that it should only take a minute or so for you to fully recover and become mobile once more.

Now, I’m told you’re familiar with potion formulae, so I guess you’ll recognize the code on the side of the container. Take the potion orally when you’re ready, and preferably when you have a day or two to come to grips with your new life.

Best wishes,

Twilight Sparkle

I put the note down, and picked up the container. My heart beat away as I turned it over in my fingers, and spotted the numbers and letters printed on the side - a serial number. I turned it the right-way up, and had a read - the first four numbers were the year it was produced in; given that the potion emerged in late 2019, most potion had a 2020 as the production number, the 2019’s all having been used or destroyed. The next five numbers were the batch number, followed by a hyphen, and the formula code.

My heart caught as I read the number.

201900000-EX63-3

I was holding one of the prototype serums. Experiment 63 - potion enthusiasts could only dream of having potion this... vintage. One man got his hands on a 201900001 potion, and he was king of the community for weeks, until he finally converted and moved to Equestria. Nobody thought you could ever trump that. What was made earlier than the first ever batch of publicly available potion?

Prototype potions. Rumors had abounded of these things - word was that they’d all been used or destroyed by now. And now I had one. I wanted to laugh.

“Ugh, Duke, what’s going on? Who was that?” I heard Dice’s voice echoing out to the lounge from the bedrooms.

“Oh, nothing, just a door-to-door conversion preacher,” I lied, shoving the vial into my pocket and kicking the box off the table and under the couch. I don’t know why I did it - why would I hide a secret from myself? Did I want it to be a surprise? Or was I just being my usual, devious, secretive self?

Humans, go figure.

“Really?” Dice emerged into the lounge, rubbing his eyes. “I heard ‘Rainbow Dash’.”

“We were discussing that time when she beat the jet fighter.”

“That was pretty cool.”

“Yep.” I coughed, and rubbed my head. “Uh, wanna have some breakfa-”

I was cut off once more by banging on the door - more hooves. I was really popular today. Dice looked at the door, then back at me, and nodded towards it.

“I got this.” The unicorn undid the locks once more, and opened the door. “Oh, hi. You’re here early!”

I got up and made my way to the door, to see Ironshod and Buttercup standing there, a large truck sitting in the driveway, the ButterShod logo proudly emblazoned on the side.

“Mornin’ Dice, Duke.” Buttercup had a cap on, which he tipped to us. “Got that toilet for yer.”

“Oh, that’s fast,” I remarked, as Ironshod pressed a clipboard into my hands. More signatures. “We only placed that order the day before yesterday.”

“We pride ourselves on being prompt,” Ironshod informed, “If you could show us where you want the toilet, I can get started carrying it out, and Buttercup can install it.”

“Sure.” Dice stepped back, and walked into the house, leaving me with Buttercup, who leaned against the wall. I looked at him, and he shrugged.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I just had you pegged for the pony who was going to carry the toilet.”

“Nah,” Buttercup waved a hoof. “I’m th’ one who installs the durned thing. Iron does th’ heavy liftin’.”

“Isn’t it a bit...” I waved a hand around. “...unchivalrous to make your wife do the heavy lifting?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Buttercup admitted, “But look - I gotta install it. That means gettin’ down and dirty with a sewage system at some point, usually.”

“Ah.” So chivalry wasn’t totally dead. I guessed that there was a lesson somewhere in there. Buttercup took the opportunity to look around.

“So... what do you do for a living? Place looks pretty swanky.”

“Oh, me?” I pointed at myself. “Family got ponified practically before the opening ribbon hit the ground, left everything to me. I’m basically subsisting on their legacy until it runs out, really. After that... I dunno. If the world still works, I’ll go see the world one last time before I go pony.”

“You’ve got family?” Buttercup leaned against the wall. “How much?”

“Mum, Dad and a sister.” I chuckled. “And a brother.”

“You guys stay in contact?”

I thought that one over. “Sometimes. I get the odd letter from cloudsdale, but other than that, they seem like they’re too busy with their new life to write me... which is fine, really,”I added, seeing Buttercup’s face. “Honestly - they’ve got a new life, things to worry about. I haven’t changed in like two years. Ask anyone.”

“Should write your folks sometime,” Buttercup mused, nodding. “Keep in contact, ain’t right for a man to not write his family every now and again.”

We stood there in silence, listening to the slightly muffled sounds of Ironshod and Dice nutting out the finer points of installing new home plumbing.

“Sounds like it’s going to be a fair bit of work,” I mused, and Buttercup nodded.

“Sounds like a job for powder-actuated tools, honestly. At least that’ll be Ironshod’s job. She loves powder-actuated tools.”

“Powder-actuated?”

“Jackhammers, rivet guns, the lot.” Buttercup tapped the side of his head. “Girl’s mad about anything that goes bang and drives a bit of metal through something else.”

The sound of a hover-truck filled the air, and we stood up straight, curious as to what was making that noise; behind the ButterShod truck, a second large truck sat; the doors flopped open, and two spindly robots got out. I couldn’t see the logo, but-

“Bed, Bath and Beyond... what are those sons of bitches doing here?” Buttershod asked, irritated, and I frowned.

“Hey, I brought stuff from them too,” I defended on the robots’ behalf as they wordlessly made their way around the vehicle to retrieve the bed, “You guys don’t sell beds, and I’m tired of sharing with Dice or sleeping on the couch.”

“Wait,” Buttercup held a hoof up, “You mean you two ain’t... you know?”

“What?!” I stepped back, slightly offended. “No, jesus christ. Why does everyone think that?”

“Well, I kind of just guessed, seeing as you two seem so close and all... I’m sorry. I kind of just assumed that you two were schtuppin’ each other.”

I raised an eyebrow. “One, I don’t roll like that. Two, I’m pretty goddamn sure that’d kill me. Some guy on the internet died after shit like that.”

“Oh, there’s ways,” Buttershod assured, a hint of revulsion in his voice. “Like if you-”

I clamped a hand over his mouth, my eyes shut in agony.

“No, stop right there, please. Don’t want to hear it.”

One of the B3 droids stalked up to me, his metallic feet clanking on the concrete slightly, and he held out a clip-board.

[Sign, please.]

I obliged, and filled out the form, handing it back to the robot, who signalled to his counterpart, who began lugging the bed towards the house, and through the front door.

Buttercup and I squeezed to the sides to let them pass, and I jumped as something tapped me on the shoulder.

A much more spindly and specialized robot retracted his arm, and presented me with a piece of paper - I unfolded it, and found a refund for ten percent of what I’d paid, along with a small hand-written note:

So very sorry about yesterday. Have a discount.

-Lexicon

I scrumpled the note up and shoved it in my pocket, then folded and carefully stowed away the cheque. I’d cash it later. Buttercup looked at me, confused.

“What’s that all about?”

“Oh, that?” I shrugged. “Some dude named Lexicon runs the local Bed Bath and Beyond - he accidentally hit Dice with his car yesterday, just as we were leaving your emporium, actually.”

Buttercup frowned. “Big, flash car?”

“Oh yeah,” I nodded. “How’d you guess?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time somepony got hit by a car leaving our store. Most of ‘em are hit-and-runs, too.”

“Whoa. Is that road a problem-street or something?”

“Problem? Try ‘trap’,” Buttercup jabbed a hoof into the ground. “Every person hit by a car was a pony, you know. And those cars? Usually, no plates.”

“HLF?”

“Could be,” Buttercup nodded. “Watch yourself, and watch out for Dice, too, okay?”

Suddenly, my pocket began to scream; a terrible, startling, blood-curdling scream, and Buttercup clutched a hoof to his chest in shock. I joined him too, being still unfamiliar with my new choice in ringtone.

“Celestia alive, Duke,” he gasped, “That sound... what is that?!”

“My phone, so I know it’s important,” I replied, recovering faster than Buttercup did, and fishing out the offending piece of technology to answer it. “Hello?”

“Heey, how’s our favourite son?”

I stifled a swear. “Oh- Hi, mum. I didn’t know they had phone lines running into Cloudsdale?”

“Oh, they don’t, darling. We’re down at the bus station! Your father, Glitter and I thought we’d drop by and give you a surprise visit!”

“Oh... how wonderful,” I choked, silently apologizing to Buttercup as I made my way through the house, trying to find Dice. “Uh... are you going to be staying long?”

“Oh, we’ll be around for a while, we’ve got a few friends we want to visit. But don’t worry, we won’t intrude; we’ve got a very nice hotel all picked out. Your father makes quite a lot of money as a Snowflake designer, you know, and we...”

I let my mother ramble on, and covered the microphone on my cellphone as I entered the bathroom.

My bathroom was a strange one. Rather than have tiles or some other surface more suited to a high-water environment, it had thin, dark-blue carpet. In addition to the tan bath/shower combo, it had its own toilet, in addition to the other toilet which got a room all of its own.

It was here that Dice and Ironshod were standing, discussing the logistics of ripping an existing toilet out of the ground and replacing it with a sunken bidet. Presumably, this was the toilet most easily replaced.

“...so, how long should it take?” Dice asked, and Ironshod checked her clipboard.

“All things going well, we should be done in a couple of hours, actually,” she estimated.

“Really? That’s pretty fast.”

“Magic makes home improvement a breeze, I’ll tell you that right now.”

I stood next to Dice, and slapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Ironshod.

“Ow, hey, Duke. What?”

“It’s mum,” I replied, and Dice’s jaw dropped a little.

“Oh shit, seriously? What’s she doing with a phone in Cloudsda-”

“She’s right here in town.”

“Fffff...” Dice looked at Ironshod, who was looking confused. “Could you please give us a moment, Ironshod?”

“...sure, no problem,” Ironshod nodded, and backed out of the bathroom with a clipboard of her own. I shut the door and activated the speakerphone for my cellphone.

“...and the frescoes! You would not believe the frescoes - hey, there’s a bit of an echo, what’s going on, Duke?”

I looked at Dice. Our mother might ramble on, but give her an inch and she’d work out the next mile and a half in a heartbeat. Scary stuff. I cleared my throat.

“Nothing, just working in the bathroom on the toilet, need two hands. What say I meet you guys at the station? The town’s not that safe these days.”

“That’s a great idea!” our mother said, “We can go get lunch!”

“Yeah, and... uh, while I’m there, I’ll introduce you to... a friend.”

“Oh ho ho, has my little Dukey gotten a girlfriend? Finally snagged that Magdalene girl?”

“Ugh... no. No. We’ve been over this.” I face-palmed. “Tell you what, you pick a restaurant; we’ll meet you there.”

“Oh, alright. Is that quaint little cafe on the corner of Wattson and Surge still there?”

“Yes, mum,” I sighed. “You want to go there? It’s a dive.”

“We’ve been going there since before you were born, Duke - we’re going.”

“Fine. See you there.” I hung up, and looked at Dice.

My equine counterpart shrugged, and grimaced. “It’s every closet pony’s nightmare, come true.”

======

“Parents?” Ironshod asked, raising an eyebrow, “Why are they such a big deal?”

“Because we haven’t had a chance to break... recent life changes to them,” Duke pointed out, and Ironshod’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh. OH. I get you,” Ironshod nodded.

“We’re not gay!”

“Of course you’re not. Buttercup and I fully support your life decision, for what it’s worth.”

“I- augh.” Duke gave up, and made for the front door. “Come on, Dice. Let’s go meet the parents.”

I smiled apologetically at Ironshod. “Sorry to split like this. Don’t worry about locking up, just tell Alice that you’re done and she’ll do it for you.”

“Alice?”

“Hello, Ironshod,” chimed in the AI from the ceiling, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Please notify me if there is anything you need.”

“Oh, an AI,” Ironshod nodded. “Sure. We got this - We’ll be done in a few hours. Thanks for choosing ButterShod Emporium for your toilet needs!”

“Uh, yeah, no worries,” I nodded, and turned to follow Duke. We exited the house, and walked down the driveway.

At the end of it, I paused, and looked back - Ironshod and Buttercup had returned inside, and the droids were busy robo-handling a bed through the main doorway. Except one, the one that had given me the note, which was leaning casually against the rear of the truck.

Was it just me, or... was it watching me?

Extra: Special Request

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze’s Conversion Bureau universe, by Silvertie

Chapter 7.5 - Special Request

KMCA said:

Damn, somepony's got some serious PULL. Seriously, Silver Tie/Unibro has some serious connections if he can not only get Twilight to pull something like that out of storage for a complete stranger but get Dashie to fly it to a city with a major HLF presence... Who's horn was he polishing?

It's not whose horn he was polishing, it was who's horn they were polishing, so to speak.

Everypony say thanks to KMCA for giving me the idea to write up just how Unibro could possibly get leverage of that scale on Twilight.

Originally, my headcanon was just for Unibro to talk to Null Point, who was one of the folks working on the development team for the potion... but that's boring.

This is far more interesting.

<+DoUK> Appreciate it.

<@Unibro> If that's all, I have a letter to write.

Chair creaked, and can snapped as the tab was levered open; the green unicorn known to the internet as “Unibro” reclined in his chair, and cast a quick glance around the lobby of the Conversion Bureau.

Nothing. As usual. The city was practically a ghost town these days, a skeleton crew of robots and droids would keeping the city running until long after humans passed on. Unibro rolled his neck, and checked the bank of security monitors.

Null Point was in his lab, as usual. Tinkering away on something in the safety of the tinfoil-roofed room. Thunder Slam... brutalizing a pony-shaped mannequin in his own room, some pre-sleep pugilism.

Unibro pushed his hooves into one another, clicking the leg joints, and opened the web browser; after a barely noticable pause, he punched in a string of numbers and hexidecmal digits, opening up a very simple web-page.

Just one little box sat in the middle of the screen, awaiting an alphanumeric input. Unibro didn’t hesitate, filling the box with uncountable small black dots. The screen flickered as the terminal dropped another three levels of security autonomously, and displayed a simple text file on the screen.

Links, numbers, archives, names. A digital, remotely-accessible black book. And all of them highlighted in assorted colours. Red, green, orange, blue. And one name uncoloured above all.

Unibro picked up his cellphone, and mashed some keys with his magic. Pegasi and earth ponies had it hard. He could get away with his phone from his days when he could count to ten on his upper-body limbs alone. The phone clicked as it jumped through digital hoops, and Unibro heard the call connect.

“Hey, Ponyville Library, Spike speaking. Am I doing it right?”

“Hello, Spike,” Unibro greeted, spinning slowly in his swivel chair, “I don’t suppose Twilight would be around, would she?”

“Oh, sure, but, uh, who’s calling? The thingy that tells me who’s calling just says ‘Tracking Unavailable’.”

“That’ll be the call routing. Tell Twilight... it’s Badger, and he’s looking for books... on Vegas nightlife.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Hang on. TWILIGHT, WE GOT A CALL FOR YOU! It’s somepony named Badger, something about Vegas nightlife!”

“Bring it here!”

Unibro spun a little faster as he waited for what he assumed to be Twilight’s assistant dragon to pass the pony in question the phone. The sound of magic flaring up nearby, and a slight fuzz of static as the phone was picked up in magic, and-

“Hello?”

“Hello, Twilight, it’s me,” Unibro greeted, “Badger. I’m calling it in.”

“Calling what in?” The purple librarian’s voice was on edge, now. “I don’t know any badgers.”

“Las Vegas, Nevada, March 22nd, 2020. Three girls went out for a night on the strip, properly chaperoned, of course.” Unibro coughed. “We won’t go into details, but suffice to say... five casinos, two hundred and sixty thousand bits’ worth of damage to the Equestrian treasury; an encounter with a certain farmpony from - ahem - AAAAapleoosa, in a dress club; and above all else, three humans promised three favours by three mares, all to make sure nopony ever heard about it... especially not a certain Regent of the sun.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. What’s your point?”

“I’ve called in my favours with R and F. I’m calling in yours, now.”

“...Skink and Toad weren’t this rude about calling theirs in.”

“I’m sorry if I seem a little blunt, but it took a little pressure to get the others to own up to it, and I’m pressed for time.”

“What do you want, Badger?”

“I’m looking for a certain ponification serum.”

“...I’m sure you work in a bureau, you must be up to your hooves in potion.”

“Not this one. Guy wants to convert, but he’s a... twin. Of sorts. His counterpart’s a pony now. The guy wants to make absolutely sure he doesn’t become his twin’s double again.”

“...That’s all?”

“That’s all.” Unibro took a slug of his drink. “Bargain price for my eternal silence, right?”

“Indeed. I think I know what you want. Are there any... restrictions?”

“He just wants it done fast, and he wants it to be impossible for him and his twin to be identical again.”

“Strange guy. I’ll even have somepony fly it over to him, if you want. Got an address?”

“Sure.” Unibro pulled up a text file, and rattled off an address. “Enough?”

“Yeah. Rainbow can work with this, I’m sure. I expect you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“My word is my bond, I swear it on my magic and horn.”

An ethereal clunk rippled through the ether, unheard by any save for two unicorns.

“Oath locked in, I see. I’ll send the potion out as soon as I can get my hooves on it, I have to take a trip to Canterlot and dip into the vault. I think I know what we want.”

“Thanks, Twi.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.”

The line clicked, and Unibro sat back, chuckling, as he pushed a key on his keyboard. The computer bleeped a confirmation dialogue, and he confirmed it.

The black-book list slowly began to vanish, numbers and names being stripped away into digital oblivion, to be triple-deleted by further automated programs - nobody and nopony was ever going to see those numbers and names again in this context.

The records of the greatest and only truly moon-worthy thing that Celestia’s number one student had ever done were gone; and with it, the last legacy of the man once known as “Agent Badger”.

“I hope its worth it, Duke...”

VIII - Wheels Within Wheels

The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story loosely set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 8 - Wheels Within Wheels

Rai's Chew Shop. Not surprisingly run by one Mr. Rai, it was... well, like I said to my mother - a bit of a dive. A Chinese restaurant, it did nothing to try and change the stereotype. Big round tables, red lined with gold, tea, and the big platters of food that occasionally you simply didn’t want to ask what part of what animal it was.

Don't get me wrong - when I say dive, I mean it. But the food itself is another thing entirely. The restaurant and the food look (and on occasion, smell) quite dissuading. But once you get past that grimy, greasy and sometimes unidentifiable exterior, you find food that is wholesome, filling, and tasty.

And it was here that we were meating my-our parents. I'm sorry, did I say "meating"? I meant "meeting". As a pony, your stomach undergoes quite a re-gearing. The smell of meat alone is often enough to turn even the hardiest of equines. At the very least, it becomes a focal point. Like now.

As an ex-human patron of Rai's fine establishment, I had conflicting feelings about the place. My nose detected fine eatables, and set my brain for "tasty". My gut had other ideas, however, and sought to make it's opinions known by internal-organ-interpretive-dance and contortionism.

“Oooo,” I groaned, “I dunno if this was such a good idea.”

“Yeah, Dice,” Duke nodded, “You’re lookin’ a little green. Well, greener than usual.”

“You’re a laugh riot,” I rolled my eyes. We were still a whole block away, but it was a testament to the power of Rai’s cooking that we could smell the stuff from here.

“Apparently you’re not too sick to snark.”

I reached out with my magic, and gave my human counterpart a solid clip around the back of the head. Duke stumbled forward, cursing in mock-pain.

“You cheeky son of a bitch.”

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

Duke opened his mouth to retort, and shut it as he looked past me and frowned. I twigged, and looked around, seeing nothing; an empty service lane, lined with graffiti-decorated fence, grubby once-white buildings with loading docks, and containing nothing but oily puddles, dirty concrete and discarded crates.

“Hey, Dice? I’ll meet you there,” he suggested, staring off into the alleyway absent-mindedly. “You have a talk to our folks and see if you can explain our situation, I wanna go check something out.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Alright. Don’t be too long, okay?” I jabbed Duke in the chest with telekinesis. “If you piss around just to make breaking the news more awkward; I swear to god, I will shit in your bed.”

“Don’t want that,” Duke grunted. “See you in ten.”

I watched Duke detour down the service lane, and my mane began to itch. Something was up, but... what? I shook my head, and carried on walking. If there was something up, Duke would tell me... right? Why would I keep secrets from someone who was, effectively, myself?

======

I strode briskly down the lane, a shallow puddle splashing gently as my foot clipped it. I spared a glance over my shoulder, to see that Dice had taken me at my undoubtedly questionable word. Why was I deceiving him, though? First the serum, now this.

Curiosity. That seemed to be the root of this little lie. I drew nearer to one of the loading docks, the kind with space for two trucks at once with two separate doors, walking as quietly as I could. One of the rolling doors was open enough for a human to stand comfortably, the other still as shut as it could possibly be, with a rusty old padlock keeping the door down.

What was M doing in a loading dock? I was sure I’d seen her climbing in. And physical labour wasn’t her thing, for all her physical strength - something was up. I approached the right-hand open door, and pondered my next move.

A clattering sound from inside the loading dock got my attention; sounded like someone tripping over something. I poked my head around the corner, and saw her.

The dock was empty, just a few shelves left against the walls, and a door that was shut, directly opposite the dock itself. M was standing with her back to it, watching the open dock. She saw me, no question about it.

“M? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t respond, and my brow creased as I clambered up onto the concrete dock myself, pulling myself over the yellow-chevroned edge.

“M? You alright?”

Something touched my ear, and fell down; I looked to see a chocolate-brown feather drift down to land between my shoes, and looked up.

Holding a boxy device between two hooves, a dark brown pegasus with a black mane hovered above me; a stream of light from the device, going towards M, confused me... for about half a second.

“Aw shit,” I cursed, and looked back at M. Now that I looked, she was a little translucent to be real, and hadn’t said a thing. A hologram projector.

More movement, to my left; I turned to see an old crate; sturdy enough to easily support the white earth pony on top; he had a golden-colored tail, but that was all I was able to make out before the hind-legs perched in the air began to move.

I had enough time to lament the amount of concussions I’d received lately before hoof met jaw with a crunch, and I was thrown backwards; I was out cold before I even hit the ground.

======

The bell tinkled overhead as I pushed the door open, and a voice hailed me.

“Ah, hello!” A man leaned over the counter, startling me. “Ah, another pony! Which group is yours? The pegasi or the unicorns and normal ponies?”

I jumped a little. Mr. Rai hadn’t changed, he always did have that... knack for sneaking up on folks. Usually at the right time. Judging by what he said, my family must already be here. I nodded, and steeled myself, preparing to break the news.

“Uh, the pegasi. That’d be the people I’m looking for, I think.”

“Very good!” Mr. Rai nodded enthusiastically, “Come, this way, I bring you pony menu!”

“Pony menu?” I asked, curious.

“Yes, pony menu!” Rai nodded, giving me one of the namesake booklets; I took it, and unfolded it. “All vegetable, no meat! Easy for you!”

He was right. The vegan dishes that I had scorned for so long, dotted throughout the regular menu, had been collated into one tidy list; one entry caught my eye.

“Tofu chicken feet. Seriously?”

“Very good, you like!” Rai said, enthusiastically, and I put up a hoof.

“No, no, I get that. What I don’t get is why you make... tofu chicken feet.”

“You never have chicken feet, yes?”

“Uh... yeah.” I nodded. I couldn’t recall a time when I’d ever eaten such a thing.

“You leave the chicken feet,” Rai said, patting me on the shoulder gently, “The chicken feet no leave you. Very big in China.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Rai.”

“Ah, you know me?” Rai seemed surprised, and I realized his problem. Just like most humans, he had problems identifying ponies - I knew I was guilty of such a thing. It was hardly an easy thing as a human to tell individual ponies apart when they didn’t really matter to you, without relying heavily on looking at a lot of flanks.

I was really going to have to re-think how I dealt with folks after this.

“Yeah, ex-customer.”

“Oh, I so sorry!” Rai seemed genuinely upset. Did it really mean that much to him that he recognize an ex-customer? Perhaps I should have stayed silent.

“That’s okay, I wouldn’t have picked me for a ex-human, anyway. Just over here?”

“Yes, I bring tea soon.” Rai bowed a little, and hastened away to the kitchen; I looked at my destination; a table with three ponies already seated around the table, scrutinizing their own pony-designed menus. I swallowed.

No time like the present. I stepped up to the table, and calmly pulled out a chair for myself, and sat down, looking at the other ponies.

My family. To my left, my father - these days, going by the name Snow Flake, to match his cutie mark and talent for designing such things. A pegasus of purple and blue, he was one of the main reasons my family lived in Cloudsdale; a one-time circuit-board designer, he’d transitioned well from the world of electronics to snowflake design, and was rewarded handsomely for his skill.

Across from me, my mother, Gold Leaf - Orange-coated, green-maned and winged, she had a talent not often seen in pegasi, for print work - embossing, and indeed, gold leaf. Likewise, she made a tidy sum in her work creating official letterhead for quite a few cloudsdale-based companies.

And on my right, my sister; Glitter Flake. I felt a little jealous - she’d wound up her two favorite colors in the world, pink and purple. She took more after my father’s work, and had a knack for making snowflakes that glittered and refracted light through a room. Far too precious for standard snowfall, but on occasions where fancy events coincided with scheduled snowfall, she was a godsend.

And right now, all three of them were looking at me a little confused. A stranger sits down at your table - understandable.

“Hi,” Glitter said, “Can we help you?”

“Uh...” I coughed. “Guess who. Three guesses, first two don’t count. Go.”

“Duke?” Gold leaned in a little closer, and her eyes widened. “Oh my baby; you got ponified?”

“It’s Dice these days, mum,” I nodded. “Sorry I didn’t tell you...”

Snow just looked pensive, thinking his reaction over before speaking in a calm, soothing voice. “How long ago?”

“A couple of days,” I reassured. “Not long. It was... an impulse.”

Silence filled the air, broken only by the sounds of people at other tables having their own lunches; not many ponies in this crowd, barely a dozen ponies, if that; still mostly humans. I guessed the scent that lingered around the place didn’t do much for equine palettes.

“So, how’s the weather treating you guys?” I asked brightly, breaking the silence. “Not too overworked?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Du- Dice,” Snow shook his head, rubbing his mane. “This winter’s unusually chilly, calls for a lot of snow.”

“Why are you a unicorn?” Glitter blurted.

I opened and shut my mouth again in thought. That was actually a really good question. All my immediate family were pegasi. And here I was, the odd-one-out with a horn and no wings. Could it have been the way I was ponified? Or something more?

“I have no idea,” I lied. “Just drank the potion, and woke up like this.”

“Well, you be careful, okay?” Gold said, leaning forward a little. “I hear the Human Liberation Front has been acting up lately, I don’t want to hear that you’ve been hurt... or worse, okay? If you were a pegasus and could just fly away, I wouldn’t be so worried, but...”

“I get it, mum,” I waved a hoof, “Relax. I’m sure the rumors are greatly exaggerated.”

“Where’s our tea?” Glitter asked, as if realizing something. “Mr. Rai’s not usually this slow. I’m sure half the challenge way back when was stopping him refilling our teacups. Remember, Dice?”

Something twigged, and my eyebrow twitched. I really hoped that Duke was coming soon, so we could get out of here. I listened, my ear flicking slightly. The sounds of the other group of ponies across the restaurant eating filled the air, but an unsettling lack of mastication from most of the human-occupied tables.

“I don’t think we’re getting any tea.”

The snick of guns filled the air, and my gut churned as my family’s eyes went wide, and they put their hooves up. I didn’t move.

“There’s one right behind me, isn’t there?”

“Hands up, horner!” a slap around the back of my head from an unseen hand, and I obliged, sticking my forehooves up in the air slowly. “Check those unicorns,” the voice behind me continued, “Shoot ‘em in the leg or something if they try anything!”

I heard the drone of a small colt crying start up, and cringed - bad timing. From what I heard, the HLF weren’t exactly tolerant of people talking back, let alone small children crying..

“You! Stop crying!” Angry stomping from a second voice crossed the room behind me, and I heard the crying stop abruptly, cut off by a slap, and dropping to a strangled gurgle.

“Stop it! Leave him alone!” a mare cried out, only to be followed by a thump; I watched my mother’s eyes follow the action behind me, seeing traces of violence reflected in her eyes, and prayed for a miracle.

“I’ll give you something to snivel about, you little brat!” A loud ratcheting of slide on gun, and I shut my own eyes. Didn’t want to hear it.

“Hey!” the voice behind me shouted, “Knock it off!”

“Can’t I just-” An exasperated sigh. “Can’t I just make an example of one little brat?”

“Can it! We only get money if they’re alive when he gets them, remember? He wants them fresh. Don’t shoot the prisoners!”

“You mean,” Snow said, carefully, “You’re not going to kill us?”

“‘course not!” the HLF man behind me said, cheerfully. “We’re not monsters. We’re going to sell you to a guy we know. And then he’s probably going to kill you. Now hold still, horner. Knockout blows are a science.”

I saw my family’s eyes go wide as I felt the butt of the gun strike me in the back of the head. I had time for one last thought:

Where in the world is Duke?

======

I came to, awash in a sea of light, head throbbing and sitting upright in a chair. I’d had better days, I was sure. A large spotlight sat right in front of me; I thought I could see a few shapes standing behind and next to it, but if there’s one thing the human eye can’t do, it’s see past that kind of light into darkness.

“Duke Cooper...” a refined voice spoke, one of the shapes behind the spotlight. “You’re a special man, aren’t you?”

I tried to move, to move my arms, and found it quite impossible; the combination of old, wooden, plain chair and firm rope had me bound fast. I recalled movies I’d seen in the past, where the hero managed to escape such situations by way of brute force, or cunning acrobatics; my legs were free, there was nothing stopping me running around like some sort of chair-human hybrid chicken.

Problem was, that’s about all I could do, run around; perhaps a gym regimen was on the cards, if I survived. Some lifting, perhaps some bulking up. Cardio. Gods knew I neglected that - hopefully not terminally.

I gave up on the chair, and decided to play along. “Special how?”

“You know,” a second, much more greasy voice said, “When we pop folks with r92-b, we usually get just... two results. A dead human, or a living pony.”

“And in your case,” refined said, “You’ve... bucked the trend, to use the phrase. Human and alive. And we’re quite sure you don’t have an identical twin.”

“You sure about that?” I grinned, pitching my tone at what I hoped was that of a man who still had cards up his sleeve.

It paid off, even if only briefly - apparently my captors hadn’t done their homework. Or at least, they only knew half the story.

“No... we’re sure you don’t have a twin,” greasy countered. “We know you have a unicorn room-mate, but you do not have a human twin. You can’t fool us twice.”

I shut up - they thought Dice was just my roomie. I knew a card up my sleeve when I saw it - perhaps not an ace, more like a jack. Or an eight. Aces were stuff like-

I shifted in my seat, focusing on the long, thin object beneath my buttock, and resisted the urge to smile. Twilight’s serum, the one she’d sent me. I still had it! I didn’t know what it would do, and whatever it was, it’d probably hurt like hell, but...

“...Hey, you listening?” Greasy sounded irritated. “Pay attention, before I just skip to popping you again.”

“Listening,” I reassured. I didn’t want to get popped a second time.

“I was saying, you tell us how you did it,” Greasy pressed. “How’d you just walk off that serum? We got you in the neck, no question about it!”

“‘m just lucky, I guess,” I lied, rolling my jaw. It still hurt, but when you get kicked in the face by a pony, I guess that happens.

“Luck doesn’t-” Refined stopped abruptly as the door crashed open.

“Shield,” a silhouette standing in the doorway said quickly, “Hate to break up your little interrogation, but we got trouble. police scanner says HLF are on the warpath.”

“Shield?” I tilted my head, recalling the only other pony with a name like that that I’d heard of. “Illuminating Shield?”

“Oh, hayseed,” Refined swore, affirming my guess. “Thanks a lot, Ironshod. Now he knows our name, and we gotta make sure he stays silent, permanently.”

“Ironshod?” My jaw dropped. “Oh, no. You’re not...”

The silhouette sighed, and reached out with a haze of magic to hit the light switch. I blinked and shook my head as the initial blinding of light wore off.

To answer my unfinished question: yes. Yes she was. Ironshod of Buttershod Emporium.

“Ironshod, why?” I asked, sighing. “You seemed like such a nice person. What would Buttercup say?”

“He’d say what I told him to say,” snorted Ironshod. “You think I do this because I want to? You tried making ends meet with... a toilet emporium? In Equestria, maybe. But moving out here to the human lands to sell toilets? Not happening, and Buttercup knows it.”

The greasy brown pegasus hovered into the air, and thumped a hoof into the other hoof. “She ain’t a bad shot, neither. And they say you can’t buy a markspony for love nor money...”

“I’ll confess,” Ironshod said, walking up to me, “I was concerned when I saw M punching you. I never miss, and I hit you in the neck, no two ways about it. But that was all in the past - you’re walkin’, and I didn’t have a beef with you. Illuminating Shield and Chocolate Cake there had other ideas, though, and here we are.”

“Honey?” Buttercup’s voice drifted through the door. “Ironshod? You okay back there?”

“Uh, yeah!” Ironshod called back. “Gimme a few moments, hon!” She turned back to Shield. “Scanner says, Rai’s Chew Shop got hit, bunch of ponyfolk abducted. Owner claims to have hidden in the coldroom when it happened. Go ask questions, bang some heads.”

“Rai’s Chew Shop?!” I exclaimed. “Dice is there! My family!”

“Family?” Shield frowned. “Your family have been ponified?”

“Yeah, moved to Cloudsdale, came back here for a visit,” I nodded, and looked to Ironshod.

“That’s true,” she collaborated, “I did hear something about a mother visiting.”

“Please,” I begged. “You gotta let me help you. Somehow.”

Shield looked pensive. “Fine. I was just gonna have Cake throw you off a tall building, but I guess you can come along; I hope you can act, for your sakes.”

My heart skipped a beat. What was Dice going through? What was I going to do about it?

======

I came to in the back of a truck. It was pitch black, and I couldn’t see a thing, but I knew it was a truck, on account of how I could hear the engine and feel the movement.

I reached out with my magic, and felt around, feeling somepony else, who jumped.

“Hey! Watch where you’re puttin’ that!”

“Whoops, sorry.” I stopped feeling around, and instead lit up my horn; our temporary prison was square and large. Yep, that was a truck, alright. And lined up near the walls, everypony else.

I spotted my family slumped against the far wall, near the exit, and next to me in the back was a tan pegasus who looked a bit irritated, on account of the braces pinning his wings to his sides. Not one of my family.

“That’s rude, don’tcha know,” he muttered, “Here’s a tip, newfoal; don’t go feelin’ up other ponies, it sends the wrong message.”

“My bad.” I looked around, shadows dancing with the movement of my horn; a good ten to twelve ponies were in this truck, all of them unconscious; I was awake first purely by merit of taking a sleeper hit first, I guessed.

“Welp,” the pegasus snorted. “Name’s Chord Thorn, professional adventurer; not that it matters much now, who knows where we’re going, right?”

I looked at my only other conscious companion; a pegasus of tan and with a green mane, he definitely looked like he’d seen his share of adventure; the light of my golden magic picked out the odd scar in his coat, and a large one that zig-zagged down his face, crossing one of his eyes, which remained a milky white.

“Dice Roller,” I introduced. “Just call me Dice. And how did you know I was a newfoal?”

“Thorn’ll do me,” he nodded. “And how did I know? Let’s start with your lack of knowledge about ettiquite. Never seen ponyfolk behave quite like somepony what used to be human. My ma, bless her soul, didn’t give me much in the physical department, but she brought me up proper, manners and all.”

“Sorry,” I apologized again. “So, what’s happened? I’ve... been out of it.”

“I’ll say.” Thorn chuckled. “They got you good, and your little friends, too. Watched ‘em load up the truck with you lot.”

“Did they get you somewhere else?” I asked, curious.

“Aye.” Thorn nodded. “Nabbed me as I was makin’ my way out of an abandoned airfield south of here - musta set off some silent alarm or somethin’. I hate human traps, so much harder than ancient Equestrian ones. Give me a hallway of spears any day.”

“I hope it was worth it, whatever you found,” I muttered.

“Sorta was, I guess,” Thorn mused. “Found a lot of crates; newer stuff than there shoulda’ been, given that the airfield’s abandoned and stuff.”

“Smuggling?” I guessed.

“Nah, smuggling’s when it’s all happening on the down-low. This is all legit, official certificates of lading and all.” Thorn twirled a hoof in the air to make his point. “Someone’s playing a very dark game. I was seeing descriptions in English like ‘munitions, 5.56mm x 20,000’ and such. One or two stamps saying ‘US Millitary Surplus’. I know humans love their war, but that’s an awful lot of war toys.”

“You could have been snooping around one of the local HLF stashes,” I guessed. “It’d explain the silent alarm.”

“Could do. Except the guys who picked me up weren’t HLF,” Thorn countered.

“And how did you deduce that, Thorn?”

“We ain’t dead. HLF don’t want live ponies. We’re goin’ somewhere, alright, and it probably ain’t the nearest bureau or Equestria proper, that’s for sure.”

IX - BBEG

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story loosely set in Blaze’s Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 9 - BBEG

“How’s the suit fit?”

I turned my shoulders, and nodded approvingly at the mirror - my black-suited, sunglass-obscured visage nodded back at me. “I look pretty snazzy.”

Chocolate Cake grabbed me and turned me around, frowning at me and tilting his head sideways. “You’re not supposed to look snazzy, you’re supposed to look authentic. Most feds ain’t snazzy. Shield. Opinion.”

Illuminating Shield turned around, and nodded. “It’ll do. Doesn’t look anything like a real Agent, and these days, most Agents tend to have a... ahem, ‘unique’ flair to them.”

The earth pony picked up a small wallet, and carried it over to me, spitting it into my hands. I flipped it open, to see my own face staring back at me out of an ID that named me “Special Agent Cooper”.

“Alright, Duke. Who are you?”

“I’m Du-” A swift strike from a hoof to the shoulder had me staggering sideways, cursing quietly in pain.

“Wrong answer. Try again, and get it right or we go with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“You attempt to become a pegasus in the six seconds it takes for you to fall to your death. Cake’ll oblige you.”

“I’m Agent Cooper.”

“What’s your assignment?” Shield interrogated.

“I’m here escorting two Equestrian investigators.”

“Hmm.” Shield nodded. “You’ll do. Officially, you’re on glorified bodyguard duty. Once we close the doors, you stand there and shut up, while we get answers. Just because you’re tagging along, doesn’t mean your opinion is appreciated or even tolerated. Stand there, shut up, got it?”

“Why are you such a dick?” I asked, pushing the doors open; we were standing in the back of a moving truck - loaned by Ironshod, naturally - parked in the very same service lane that I’d been lured down in the first place.

“Why am I a dick?” Shield looked irritated. “Look, we might have been going to ponify you, but if things went to plan, you’d never know who we were. Now you know, and you’re what we call a ‘loose end’! We’ve only got you as far as solving this little kidnapping problem, and I’m not sure you can be trusted with even that!”

“What,” I said as I hopped down, off the truck, “You calling me a liability?”

“You ain’t a pony,” Cake said, bluntly, affixing his own badge around his neck. “And Shield’s got trust issues with anythin’ that don’t walk on four legs.”

I mulled that over as we walked around the corner, and approached the restaurant I should have had lunch at, now being swarmed over by half a dozen policemen in great detail. Imagine if I’d ignored that glimpse of M out of the corner of my eye...

“Hey, you three!”

As one, we looked to see a rather pudgy policeman trotting towards us - it’s about the only way to describe how he moved, even though he was human. Too fast for a waddle, too rotund, jiggly and slow for a jog or run.

“Yes, officer?” I asked, smoothly.

“This... hoo. This is a crime scene,” the policeman puffed. “I’m afraid that if you came here looking for lunch at Rai’s, you’re gonna have to go elsewhere.”

I recieved a subtle jab in the thigh from Shield, and took my cue, fishing out my ID, and flashing it to the policeman, like I’d seen detectives do in all those TV thrillers that I’d seen.

“Agent Cooper. I’m escorting these two special investigators - Princess Luna wants an equine view of the situation.”

“O- of course!” The policeman tried to draw himself up straighter in the presence of someone with a higher-ranked badge than his, and achieved a rather tall pile of flabby flesh. “Do you want the boys to take a break?”

“Indeed,” Shield cut in, nodding. “If you would kindly direct us to any witnesses, that would also be most appreciated.”

“Witnesses?” The policeman waddled along, leading us into the restaraunt proper, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he went. “Only got one witness, Mr. Rai. He hid in the kitchen when the snatch-and-grab happened.”

“Where is he?” Cake asked.

“Still in the kitchen.” The policeman drew himself up even more, and bellowed at the handful of police detectives combing the scene. “Take five, you lot! Special investigators from Equestria want a quiet look at the place!”

The policemen looked relieved, and drifted away, arguing amongst themselves about the closest fast-food joint. The pudgy cop watched them go, wiping a moustached nose with the back of a hand.

“You too, Officer,” Shield prompted, and the cop looked surprised.

“Me too? But how will-”

“They’ll work it out,” I interjected hurriedly. “Off you go.”

The cop searched for a reason to stay, sighed in resignation when he couldn’t come up with one, and left us to our own devices. I looked at the two ‘Investigators’ who just walked past everything; they didn’t want evidence, they wanted a lead. A lead sitting in the kitchen.

“Oh, hello!” Rai got up from his seat on a worn stool to greet us as we entered. “I so sorry, we not open now. Trouble with kidnapping, you see - you come back tomorrow, okay?”

A brown hoof planted itself on Rai’s chest, and Cake pushed him firmly back onto the stool. “We ain’t here for the eats, human.”

“We’re here to find out what you know,” Shield stated levelly, a hard edge to his voice. I watched the pony’s body language change - his body tensed up, and I could practically feel the threatening glare, even from where I was standing.

“I so sorry,” Rai protested. “I give statement to policemen. You ask them please. I know no more.”

“The policemen have gone out to lunch,” Cake pointed out, “And I’m no great shakes at readin’. Let’s cut to the chase - we’re very busy ponies, you dig? What happened?”

“What happen?” Rai sighed. “Angry men come in with guns, kidnap ponies at gunpoint! Hit them, and go!”

Shield looked Rai in the eyes, and the chinaman returned the look. Shield frowned.

“That’s not all you know. What didn’t you tell the policemen, hm?”

“That whole story true!” Rai protested again. “I not see any more, I busy hiding!”

“Don’t lie to him, Rai,” Cake warned. “I seen him mad. He ain’t a nice pony when he mad.”

“I no lie!”

Shield didn’t say anything, except to spin and lash out with a solid buck at Rai’s legs - with a solid crack, the man fell over sideways, screaming and clutching his newly malformed legs.

“I said, that’s not all you know. I’m not wrong, I can see it in your eyes,” Shield said, warningly. “We can do this the fast way, or the hard way. The painless path closed when you decided to fuck with me, human.”

The human phrase sounded strange coming from a pony, and it showed on Rai’s face, mixed in with brimming tears and gritted teeth from the pain. “You can’t do this!” Rai protested. “You break my legs! That illegal! You have no reason! I report you!”

“I hear humans are fond of their hands,” Shield said conversationally. “Especially those wiggly parts on the ends, fingers. Start talking, or I make sure you never play the piano again, you piece of shit.”

“You wouldn’t!” Rai accused, trying to call Shield’s bluff. A bluff that didn’t exist, and the result made both Cake and I wince in sympathy.

snap

Rai’s screaming hit a new pitch as he clutched a ring finger, bent backwards, and Shield spat, wiping his mouth with a hoof.

“Your hands taste like meat, you bastard. Now start talking.”

“I... know nothing!” reiterated Rai.

“I hate using my mouth for things. Wish I was a unicorn sometimes. Cake, pass me that cleaver. I don’t like using your human tools, but it’s either that or touch your fingers with my mouth again. I would rather cut.”

Cake put a hoof on a cleaver embedded in a chopping block, and Rai finally snapped.

“Okay, okay! I work with the men! I help them, organize trap! They take ponies and put them in truck! They give me money! You want money? I give! Look!”

Rai crawled to an inoccuous-looking icebox under the counter, and levered it open with his one good hand - inside, stacks of cash sat, which were drawn out by a shaking hand, and held out to us.

“You take money and go! Please!”

Cake brushed the money aside with a hoof, and pulled the man closer with a hoof. “Was there anything special about that truck? A number plate, a logo?”

“...yes! Yes!” Rai nodded eagerly. “A logo! No cut!”

“What was the logo?” I asked quickly, beating Shield to the punch.

======

“How are you so damn calm?” I asked, holding up my shackled hooves for emphasis. “This can’t be normal for you. You’ve even got what amounts to wheel clamps for your wings!”

“The trick,” Chord Thorn said evenly, swaying slightly with the motion of the dark truck, “is to stay calm. You panic, you miss things.” Thorn used his limited hoof movement range to punctuate his sentence with a rattle of chains. “You miss things, you miss opportunity. You miss opportunities... you might not get out alive.”

I took a deep breath and calmed down, then looked at my companion. “Alright, mister I-get-caught-all-the-time, what am I looking for?”

“Anything,” Thorn answered, simply. “Every little detail helps, and you spot more details if you pay attention to senses other than sight. The smallest click of gears behind a stone wall, the slightest bit of give in a rope. See an inch, push it to a mile. Shoot, you ever read Daring Do’s stories?”

“Never heard of her,” I confessed. “Pony author?”

“In a sense. The stories she writes are elaborated hugely in regards to how often the floor turns to lava; but most of its based on things she’s actually done. Like, escaping a room filling with quicksand, while tied up with rope. She used her hat.”

“Her hat?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah - if you’re busy panicking, what are the odds of you actually trying that?” Thorn tapped his head with a hoof. “Would you even remember you were wearing one?”

“Probably not.”

“So. Stay calm, and stay alert. Give it a try, you’d be surprised what you find.”

I settled down, and closed my eyes, drinking in my other senses. I felt the truck’s motion, heard the sound of tyres on asphalt, smelt the diesel of the engine. The sway as we went around a corner. Heard the breathing of the other ponies, heard voices.

Voices? I listened harder, and cracked an eye open to see Thorn smiling at me. Crafty bastard. He’d been hearing them all along, hadn’t he?

“Think it’s worth checking one of the other traps?”

“Nah. We’re at capacity right now, anyway. Let’s just dump this lot off.”

“Dump us where...?” I listened harder, brow creasing as increasing noise levels made it harder to listen.

Something twigged, and I looked around. Stirring shapes in the dark startled me, and I realized my fellow prisoners were waking up.

“Uuh,” moaned a voice. “Where am I?”

“Glitter?” I recognized the voice. “It’s me, Dice. I’m over here.”

“Dice?” Chains rattled as my sister hobbled and dragged herself over to me, apologizing quietly to ponies she tripped over or stood on. I lit my horn up brighter, and her pink visage loomed out of the dark.

Without waiting, she gave me what I guessed was the equivalent of an equine hug - at a loss for what to do, I settled for awkwardly patting her shoulder with a hoof.

“There, there. It’ll be alright, Glitter.”

“I hate these shackles.”

“Hmm.” An idea came to me. “Wait, why didn’t I try this before?”

I reached out with my magic, feeling for the shackles that bound my sister, and hobbled her so. I found them, and began to pull. Almost immediately, it was as if I was holding ice in my telekinetic grip - a stark contrast to the searing, burning pain that manifested itself in my horn.

I recoiled in pain, cursing, and cradled my horn - as soon as I’d let go, the pain had vanished - but the memory was all too real.

Thorn watched my reactions, and nodded. “Figures. Orichalcum alloy.”

“Ori-what now?” I gasped.

“Orichalcum - Equestrian metal, absorbs magic straight out of anything that touches it; I’m told holding a lump of pure Orichalcum as a unicorn is unbelievably painful,” Thorn explained. “Just being near the stuff is enough to cause headaches and make spells go wrong. In lesser concentrations, you can’t detect the stuff until you touch it with magic - then it does it’s thing. Needless to say, you aren’t pulling these shackles apart if they’ve got Orichalcum in them.”

“Well, there goes that plan,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “How’d humans get Orichalcum-laced shackles?”

“And that’s a twenty-thousand-bit question right there, Dice,” Thorn nodded to me. “What human has the connections for access to one of the rarest Equestrian ores?”

The question, while softly spoken, bounced around the truck, and plunged it into silence. Silence enough for me to hear the people in the cabin once more, as the truck rocked and slowed to a halt.

“Think we need to knock out those ponies again?”

“Of course. Can’t relax until they’re in the cells. Most dangerous creature’s one that’s in a corner, after all.”

“Boris, would you kindly oblige?”

The truck rocked, and the sound of heavy footsteps stamped their way around to the back of the truck. I braced myself, ready to seize the chance to get everypony out, if I could. He’d have to open the door to knock us all out, right?

No such luck - apparently this ‘Boris’ wasn’t a moron, and where I anticipated a door opening, a small slit opened in the door itself - the stream of light that flowed in flickered as something was pushed through, and it clacked shut once more, the heavy steps stamping back to the cabin.

Everypony craned their necks to see what exactly we’d been given, one of the ponies nearest it leaning over and picking up the small object.

“It’s a cylinder of some sort,” reported the earth pony, trying to look at it.

Thorn grimaced. “Might want to hyperventilate a little right now, get ready to hold your breath.”

“What? Why?” Glitter asked, concerned.

“Grenade,” I guessed, and did as Thorn suggested, sucking in a deep breath and holding it.

Glitter followed suit, and just in time - the cylinder was indeed a grenade, and the earth pony holding it dropped in with a shout of alarm when it began venting gas.

“Help!”

“I can’t breathe!”

The ponies all moved as one - those further away were able to scrabble to the back of the truck, but those closest didn’t so much as let out a shout of alarm before keeling over; I couldn’t quite see in the dark, but I certainly hoped it was just sleeping gas, and that Boris hadn’t accidentally given us a poison or otherwise unbreathable gas grenade.

The unseen cloud reached us; I forced light into my horn, and I saw it drifting around us, still fountaining forth from the grenade. A heavy weight against my shoulder as Glitter gave me a hug, and we watched as the other ponies fell over.

In no time at all, it was just me, Thorn and Glitter left upright; everypony else was gently snoring away under a thin blanket of gas; my horn’s light flickered and began to give out as my focus drifted to not sucking in a breath of air.

I barely noticed Glitter sliding down to the ground, and just looked at Thorn - the pegasus had his own mouth clamped shut, and his expression spoke volumes.

You’re just delaying the inevitable.

My lungs burned, my heart thumped, and eventually... I gave in. Thorn wasn’t having trouble, but he was presumably used to this sort of thing. Me? No such luck. I let a single breath of gas-laced air pass my lips, and coughed as the chemical kicked in.

The world of unconsciousness beckoned yet again, and the world became properly dark once more.

======

“What I want to know is, why is the human not driving?” Cake asked lazily.

Our questions asked of Rai, we’d made a hasty escape back to the truck, and Ironshod had begun the trip across town to our next place of inquiry. Ironshod had reported over the radio that she’d seen some very agitated policemen and one upset restaurateur.

“Because this is my truck, and I’m gonna drive it,” Ironshod shot back over the radio, from the cabin.

“Besides,” I added, “I don’t think I’m capable of driving a truck. I’m not much good at driving at all, really.”

“Typical human,” Shield grunted. “Useless, the lot of you. Better off as ponies.”

“Seriously?” I turned around, and looked Shield in the eye. “What is your problem, seriously? Why do you hate humans so much?”

“You would, too,” Cake warned. “That’s a can of worms you don’t wanna open.”

“Fuck you,” I retorted. “I open a lot of things I shouldn’t. Spill, Shield. Why are you such an asshole?”

“You want to know? You really want to know?” Shield drew himself up to full height, and I realized that he was roughly my size - add in that he was about twice as heavy, and I realized that I could easily wind up like Rai.

“I want to know,” I reiterated. “What could possibly make you hate people you’ve barely met? You’re a pony, for fuck’s sake - your kind has a reputation for being overly trusting, if anything.”

“You know, once upon a time...” Shield sat down, and looked at me. “Once upon a time... I did. I trusted a human. I had a human pen-pal. She would write me letters at least once a week - hand-written, not that machine-typed junk - and on equestrian paper so it could get through the barrier. I was in the Royal Guard back then, and her letters were always the highlight of my day.”

Shield’s expression softened visibly. “She’d write to me, tell me about the silliest things. Her friends... her recent troubles. And I reciprocated - if she needed someone to listen, I listened. If she needed advice, I gave it or found someone who could.

“One day, she wrote to me. She said that... that she thought she loved me. A human woman I’d never met, loving me, an Equestrian Royal Guardspony. It was quite a surprise. We organized a meeting, so that we could meet, face-to-face, and finally see the pony or woman behind the letters. I cashed in my leave, set out for a quiet little city out in the human lands.

“We arranged to meet at the train station - I stood there for fifteen minutes, and she didn’t show. I just figured she was running late, and before long, I was the only person on that platform, watching the sunset.

“A truck pulled up. Filled with a bunch of men. I paid them a minimal amount of attention, they looked like official human soldiers - why would I question them? I should have paid more attention. They jumped me as one, beat me with batons and stun-prods. I was a trained guard, but one pony can only do so much against four men like that. I went down hard, and do you know what I saw?”

“What did you see?” I asked.

“I saw her. A woman, peering around the corner of a building, holding one of your fancy wireless phones. Doesn’t seem like much, right? Thing is, she matched the description that my pen-pal had given me, the human to look for, the one who said she loved me.”

Shield planted a hoof on his chest. “I opened myself up to this woman, and what did she do? She betrayed me! She sold me out to these bastards of humans!” Shield began to pace back and forth. “Back then, the Human Liberation Front was disorganized. Crude. Unregulated. If the HLF got you, who knew what would happen to you?

“This branch... this branch was cruel. Sadistic. Saw no harm in having a little... ‘fun’ with a pony they’d nabbed. I looked important, too, you know. Having a natural white coat does imply status, it seems. They thought I was rich, thought to shake me down for bits, hold me to ransom.

“I don’t have money. I’m a Guardspony, I don’t make stacks of bits. I tried to tell them that they were wasting their time, that there was no money to be had. And they got mad, called me a liar, beat me. What they did next... changed me. Forever.”

“Did they... rape you?” I guessed, and Shield shook his head.

“Even today... I wish they had, instead of what they did. At least psychological wounds do heal eventually. Mine won’t.” Shield turned around, and pointed to his back. “Human medical science is quite astonishing, they managed to heal the physical scars, make it as if they never existed. But neither that nor Equestrian magic can replace what was taken from me.”

The penny dropped, and my eyes widened a little as I put it together. Shield looked like an earth pony. Looked.

“Your wings. You used to be a pegasus, they took your wings.”

“Like pulling the wings off a chicken, they gloated,” Shield spat, turning around. “Sometimes, I still hear that saw when I sleep. The scream of metal meeting sinew, mingling with my own screams of pain.

“I didn’t die on that table. I would have, if the Equestrian Wild Cards hadn’t kicked the door down - the HLF, they were arguing about how long I’d live without legs, you know. The Cards... they arrived in the nick of time, routing the HLF while they were distracted by the show that I provided. Put paid to those assholes, each and every one. I owe them my life.

“But even they, Equestria’s elite tactical squad, were not fast enough. They got me to a hospital in time to stop me on the brink of death, but they didn’t stop the HLF fast enough to save my wings. There’s no place in the Royal Guard for a pegasus with no wings - there’s places for earth ponies, but I’m no earth pony. I lack the innate strength and sturdiness, and I had no other skills to rely on.

“So I had no choice, but to leave the Guard. Times got hard, and I fell in with the Ponification for the Earth’s Rebirth movement, and as you humans say,” Shield said, gesturing grandly at the truck, “The rest is history.”

“You... what happened to you wasn’t easy, not by far.” I pointed at Shield. “But how can you hate humans for that? It was one bad bunch of apples! Not every human is like that!”

“You’re right, of course. Not every human is so... hostile.” Shield shook his head. “No, it’s not them I hate. It’s the ones that pretend to care. That pretend to support our way of life.” Shield jabbed me in the chest with a hoof. “They’re liars, and the only way to ensure that we don’t get hurt by those liars is to make them all ponies like us. After all, betraying something that doesn’t look like you is easy. But doing it to your kith and kin?”

“...You blame your pen pal.”

“She was behind it!” Shield screamed, fuming. “She was behind it all! She sold me out! She knew I was in the Royal Guard! She must have thought I had bits aplenty! My life was destroyed and changed forever, and she’s to blame!”

The ex-pegasus snorted, and stamped around in circles, before looking at the ground and taking a deep breath. He re-smoothed out his mane, and sighed.

“I’m sorry. I get a little worked up, sometimes. Ironshod, are we almost there?”

“About five minutes.”

“Good.” Shield sat down, and fished body armor out of a small locker; tarnished, beaten, but still serviceable, I recognized it as the armor of a royal guardspony. “The Wild Cards saved my life,” he repeated, looking at his reflection in the dented brass. “Wretched though it be. It’s only right that I do the same for other ponies. Let’s hope that we are not too late.”

=====

I didn’t open my eyes this time, I just lay on the ground, listening to the world around me.

“I’m sick and tired of being knocked out,” I declared.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Thorn said, by way of greeting. “Sleep well?”

“Oh, shush, you,” I grunted, sitting up and getting to my hooves. “What’s going on, now? We’re not in the truck.”

“No, indeed,” Thorn shook his head. “I do believe we are somewhere underground. No idea where we are, though.”

“Oh, can you hear traffic above us or something?” I asked.

“Well, no,” Thorn admitted, looking at me with his good eye. “I was sort of awake while we were being carried down here - I managed to hold my breath just a little longer than you, and I only inhaled traces of the gas, so I woke up just as everypony else was being moved.”

“Oh.” I nodded, and got up, smiling. “Hey, the shackles are gone!”

“Yeah, because they got replaced with those.” Thorn nodded around us, and I looked around.

We were in a plain, boring old concrete cell; the only parts of the room that weren’t cold concrete was the wall with the bars and door in it. There weren’t even any toilets; just a drain in the far corner that was way too small for anything to fit down. An experimental touch of the bars that made up our fourth wall with my magic confirmed that it was Orichalcum-alloy steel. A very low-comfort prison cell, in other words. No chance of escape.

“Quite the puzzle,” Thorn admitted. The tan pegasus was the only one sharing my cell, although the cell across from us had four sleeping ponies in it. I couldn’t see my family anywhere near us, and guessed they were further down on the same side as we were.

“Any ideas, Thorn?”

“Well, obviously we’re going to escape,” Thorn pointed out. “All we have to do is pick that lock and we’re out, scott-free.”

“What?” I looked at our cell door, and walked over to it. From what I could see of the other side... “Hey, you’re right! It’s not even a digital lock!”

“Great,” Thorn said, “Now pop back over here and give me a hoof, would you?”

“Why? What’s up?” I asked, concerned. Thorn shook his head.

“Nothing’s wrong, Dice. I just can’t do this on my own.”

“What are you trying to do?” I asked, pressing a little harder.

“Well,” Thorn said, “The idea is that we pick the lock, right? You’re a unicorn, so normally, that’d be your thing - just use your magic to make a key shape, and away we go. But this lock’s made of Orichalcum - you ain’t movin’ that with your magic, no sir. So you need something to pick the lock with.”

“But there’s nothing in this room but us,” I pointed out.

“Exactly, nothing but us.” Thorn nodded towards his own side, where his wings remained pinned by another orichalcum band. “I can’t pull my own feathers from here. If you do that, you should be able to get a couple of feathers sturdy enough to pick the lock with.”

“Picking a lock with feathers?” I asked, tilting my head. “That sounds downright silly.”

“I know, that’s what I said to my father when he taught me this little trick,” Thorn remarked as he presented his wing to me, and I bent my head down to try and pick out a feather. “He responded by telling me that if your enemies think it’s silly, then they won’t mind you doing it-AAARGH”

I lifted my head up, feather pinched between my teeth. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Thorn nodded, eyes watering. “See what I mean about this being a two-pony job? Feels better already. Have another go.”

I bent my head down, and found another suitable candidate, and set my teeth on it.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice asked, incredulous. I lifted my head to see a human looking at us - neither I nor Thorn had heard him approach; although given our respective occupations, I guessed it made sense.

He wore simple combat fatigues, and a black, armored vest; a handgun rode on one hip, and a cattle-prod on the other, and his face wore a look of disgust.

Thorn fixed him with a look, and he just walked off, shaking his head in equal disgust. “Jesus christ, ponies are fucking weird.”

We heard a door click shut at the end of the hallway, and I looked at Thorn, who shrugged. “I don’t know what just happened,” he confessed. “Perhaps he thinks it’s a fetish or something. Either way, he doesn’t care. Keep going.”

“Is it a fetish?” I asked, finding the feather I had before.

“Celestia only knows,” Thorn grunted as I yanked the feather out. “Can you believe some ponies get off to the mere act of putting clothes on? Or hell, even socks?”

“Socks? Seriously?” I asked, picking up the feathers.

“I’m not kidding,” Thorn commented, walking with me to the door. “It’s a strange world out there, kid.”

“Oh, I know that already,” I chuckled. “Human internet. I just thought ponies were...”

“Above that sort of thing?” Thorn shook his head, smiling. “Ponies are people too, and everybody has at least one vice. For some, that’s socks. Now let’s get lockpicking. You know how to pick a lock?”

“Nope!” I replied cheerfully.

“In at the deep-end, huh?” Thorn shook his head. “You’re going to be picking this lock backwards, so to speak. I hope you can visualize that lock really well.”

And so began what had to be the most infuriating thing of my entire life. Imagine you know nothing about locks. Now imagine having to pick one so you can escape a prison cell. With feathers. From the wrong side. It’s not fun, and even with Thorn’s help, my success was more luck than skill.

The door swung open with a creak, and we trotted out, triumphant. By now, most of the other cell inhabitants had regained consciousness, and stamped their hooves gently by way of applause.

“Now what?” I asked. “We can’t just leave these ponies here.”

“I agree. But feather-lock-picking is hard, and takes far too long - we’d just get busted.” Thorn shook his head, and the cycloptic pegasus began looking around. “Try and find the keys. Keys would be a bit faster than picking every single little lock.”

I thought back to the time I’d just spent. “Yeeah, I agree. Where should we look?”

“What about that guard?” Thorn suggested. “He’s probably got the keys. They usually do.”

“Yeah... he also had a cattle prod and a handgun,” I pointed out. “We don’t have anything.”

“We have the element of Surprise,” Thorn countered, grinning. “And that’s quite a powerful element. Elements of Harmony can eat their collective hearts out.”

“I hope you’re better at beating people up than I am,” I muttered, quietly walking towards the door the guard had gone through. “I’ve got all the physical ability of a wet noodle.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Thorn chortled.

“Why are you so happy?”

“Oh, we’re having adventure,” Thorn replied, “And in case you’ve forgotten, I am a Professional Adventurer. I’m in my element!”

“How does one become a Professional Adventurer?” I asked, slinking up to the door.

“Easy. Have a father that’s an airship captain and ex-military, have him teach you a bunch of dirty tricks, then get himself killed by a power of decay and darkness. Curiosity, a thirst for revenge, and bereavement will do the rest in due time.”

“Ouch,” I muttered. “Have you...”

“Avenged my father?” Thorn nodded. “Been there, did that, walked away with these scars, a blind eye, and what amounts to a PHD in archaeology and adventuring from the school of hard knocks. Never looked back, really.”

I put an ear to the door, listening for anyone on the other side. “Sounds like you’d have a few stories to tell.”

“You know it.” Thorn slipped past me, taking up position next to the door, ready to open it. “Anyone out there?”

I opened my mouth as I strained to listen harder.

“I think... I hear-”

With a wham, the door was thrown open; the heavy wooden door smashed into my head, and sent me flying - I was seeing double, but I could have sworn the guard was just as surprised as I was, although a great deal happier about the arrangement.

“What the fuck? How did you get out of your damn cell?” The guard took a few cautious steps forward, going for his cattle prod. “The boss said you horners couldn’t touch the locks!”

The scrape of hooves on concrete floor got his attention, and he turned around just in time to see Thorn launching himself into the air, rotating slowly, as Thorn’s rear hooves lined up with his face.

I don’t know what was going through the guard’s mind at the time, but ‘His Face’ seemed like a suitable guess - with a resounding crunch, Thorn delivered a punishing kick to the face, and landed on the ground, rolling onto his hooves once more.

It was kind of pointless; I got up, rattled, and shook my head. The human guard didn’t, and I found a few reasons why as I walked over to the body, kicking a few stray teeth aside with a rattle. I rubbed my face, while Thorn looked at his handiwork and tutted.

“You okay, Dice?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, feeling my jaw. “That really hurt. I hate getting hit in the head. This can’t be good for me.”

“Hmm. The universe is trying to tell you something,” Thorn guessed, rummaging in the guard’s pocket. “Wear a helmet, perhaps. Or harden up. Eugh, this guy’s pocket is disgusting.”

With a jingle, Thorn pulled his prize out of the pocket - a ring of keys, which flew through towards me; with a glow of magic, I caught them, and turned them over.

“Which ones do the cells?”

“Probably all of them. But for now, could we use that little key,” Thorn nodded at his side, “And unlock this stupid brace? That way, I can go explore some more, try and find my coat, or something we can use.”

“Sure.” I floated the indicated key over to Thorn’s underside, and with a click, the clamp fell off and hit the ground with a clunk. Thorn flapped into the air triumphantly.

“Yeah! Feels good to fly again! Back in a bit, Dice. I’ll leave you to the cell unlocking.”

“Gotcha,” I agreed, taking the keys and trotting over to the nearest cell, as Thorn drifted out the door, hovering just above the ground. I looked at the ring of keys, and the cell; both were numbered, and each key had a different number.

Even if I had lost a few brain cells from my recent hit to the head, it didn’t impair my cell-unlocking ability, and the ponies within stirred as I located the right key and put it in.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you so much, mister Dice.”

“Do you need any help, Dice?”

“Uh, sure,” I nodded. “Could you put that guy” - I nodded at the human guard - “and stick him in a cell?”

“You got it, Dice,” a bigger, bright-orange earth pony agreed, trotting over and getting to work. Another pony, a unicorn like myself, got the wing-clamp key, and set about freeing the pegasi amongst us as I resumed unlocking cells.

The volume level gradually rose as ponies were freed, and I eventually came to the cell that contained my family. The other ponies bounced out the door past me, cheering quietly, leaving me with my relatives.

“You done good, son,” Snow nodded. “You’re makin’ us proud.”

“I’ve got the best big brother ever!” Glitter ran forward and gave me a big hug that pushed me back a few steps.

“Hey, easy!” I patted her on the back. “Go see the guy with the key, he can unlock you guys. I’m gonna see where we can go from here.”

My parents just nodded, and herded my sister in the right direction. I looked at the ponies that had been freed - there had only been a dozen or so of us in the truck, but our numbers had grown to almost four dozen ponies, milling about in the narrow walkway. Some were more dishevelled, having been here longer than us. Others had been caught alongside me, and were a great deal healthier.

One pony looked and saw me watching everyone, and tapped their neighbor on the shoulder. “Shh! Dice wants to say something!”

“I- what?” I blurted, even as a wave of silence ripped through the small herd, every pony listening to me. “I was just gonna ask if anypony knows anything about this place.”

A quiet murmur broke out as pones collaborated facts, and one put his hoof up - the earth pony who’d moved the body for me.

“Hey, we got somepony who knows a bit more about this room than the rest of us!”

The crowd parted, to show me a small unicorn colt, who stepped forward shyly. He looked back at the big earth pony, who nodded encouragingly.

“Go on, Blue. Tell Dice what you know.”

The small, light-blue colt coughed, and spoke up. “Mister Dice, I been here for a few months now. I seen a lot of ponies and a few humans go in and out of here.” A blue hoof pointed at the door behind him. “That door leads to where all the humans are - they always come from and go back to that area.”

“That’s the door Thorn went through,” I murmured. “What about this door?” I asked, pointing behind me.

“That door leads somewhere else,” Blue mumbled. “A lot of ponies go that way. None of them come back.”

“An exit?”

“I don’t think so,” Blue said, giving it to me straight. “Humans come back. Ponies don’t.”

“Thanks,” I nodded. “Big help, Blue.”

The colt just blushed and looked at his hooves as the orange earth pony patted him on the back. I sat down and rubbed my chin in thought, then stopped.

“Why is everyone so quiet?”

“Well,” one pony from the front row, “We’re waiting for you to decide what we do next.”

“What?” I got back up again, stepping backwards involuntarily. “I - I’m no leader, I barely know what I’m doing!”

“Better than most of us,” muttered another pony from the middle of the pack. “You seem to be doing better than I could, at any rate.”

“No, that’s all Thorn’s work.”

“Well, Thorn’s not here,” pointed out the front-row pony. “You’re it. So where to?”

“Uh...” I looked at the two exits to the prison area; the mysterious, no-pony-comes-back-alive door, or the maybe-filled-with-humans door. “I think... we go that way.” I pointed over the herd. “I dunno what’s behind me, but I don’t think it’d be a good idea for any of us.”

Murmured agreement filled the air, and the herd began making its way to the far door. I followed, passing the cell of the KO’d human guard - he was still taking a dirt nap, and an idea came to mind.

“Hey, somepony mind giving me a hand relieving this guy of his things?”

======

I led the way down the corridor - my steps were a bit heavier than expected, thanks to the borrowed body armor and equipment, but between that and the cattle prod, I felt ready to handle anything.

For some reason, I felt uncomfortable holding the handgun - as a human, I had no such qualms, but as a pony, I just felt... ill. Uneasy. I shook my head, and peered around the next intersection; the maze of maintenance tunnels was large and borderline labyrinthine, white cinderblock walls framed by pipes on the ceiling, and painted color lines on each wall.

I saw no humans anywhere, but I did see a green sign, with the universal symbol for fire exit on it, and waved a hoof in the air. I heard the rest of the group creep forward cautiously, making as little noise as possible. One set of hooves kept going, until they were next to me; I gave it a quick glance, to see it was my father, Snow Flake.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Just want to say, you’re doing a great job. Where are we going?”

“Well,” I nodded at the fire exit sign. “I’m following these things. Fire exits gotta lead outside, right?”

“Wise thinking.” Snow nodded.

“I don’t suppose anypony’s seen Thorn?”

“Chord Thorn? Not a feather,” Snow confessed. “I’m sure he’ll find us, though - we’re doing our best, but close to fifty ponies walking on concrete floors is anything but quiet, no matter how hard we try.”

“Well, let’s press on,” I suggested. “I think we’re almost out of here. Blue, any luck with that cellphone?”

Perched on the back of the big orange earth pony, Blue sat with the other thing I’d purloined from the human guard - his cellphone. Being a touch-screen model, Blue was ironically the only one of us who even had a chance at manipulating the screen; us unicorns couldn’t get our magical touch to register on the device, to say nothing of how concentrating magic on the phone made it flicker and buzz irritably.

“I’m trying, mister Dice,” Blue replied, “I think I got the internet thing working.”

“Great!” I turned around. “Glitter, could you help him open the voice chat program? I realize it’s a bit silly to be making a call like this now, but if there’s anypony out there who can help...”

Glitter nodded and flew back; almost immediately, she fluttered back to me, Blue on her back, holding the phone.

“What’s the nickname I need to call?” Blue asked.

“Call a guy by the name of ‘Unibro’. He works in a Conversion Bureau, perhaps he can send help.”

“This sounds like a bit of a long shot,” muttered Snow, “Are you sure your friend really works in a Bureau?”

“Yes, Dad, sheesh.” I rolled my eyes. “Anything, Blue?”

“It’s dialing!”

“Great - pass it here, please?”

Blue held the phone out, and I gingerly took it in my magic, holding it up to my ear. A soft click, and the call connected.

“Hello? Who are you, plank masta sixty-nine, and why are you calling me?”

“Unibro!” I said, quickly. “It’s me, Dice!”

“Dice? What are you doing on some random chump’s account?”

“Dice! I need a favor - I’m with about fifty ponies, and we’re escaping from an HLF base or something!”

“Saints alive, Dice - you really don’t piss about, do you? What’s going on? Do you need help?”

“I think we might need it. At least, need a ride. Police, maybe.”

“I can do that. I think I can also do one better, and send some of the local Bureau security over to... wherever it is you are. Is that a good idea?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Hmm. So who are they going against? HLF, right? Organized, or just... rabble?”

“Well, might be HLF - Thorn mentioned that so far, this isn’t very HLF of whoever captured us.”

“This Thorn guy’s got a point. HLF don’t usually take prisoners. I’ll assume Organized HLF, but... yeah. Wait one.”

I nodded. “Thanks. Keep me posted.” I looked at the ponies around me, and nodded. “Okay, let’s keep moving.”

I led the way further along the corridor, following the fire exit markers, listening to the sounds of mumbled conversation in the background of the call. The phone rattled as someone picked up.

“You still there, Dice?”

“I’m here.”

“Southport Bureau Security are on their way. I’ve told ‘em to take out all the stops, and bring all their medics and toys. Police are also on their way to your location, and are invoking Bureau protocol to authorize a raid without human government authorization - It’s legal trickery, and the raid will become invalidated, but you’ll get that help pronto.”

“Thanks, Unibro,” I whispered, edging up to the next intersection. “I really owe you one.”

“Anything for a friend. Pop over to Bay City sometime, pay me back with a drink or something. I’ll keep this line open if you need anything else.”

“Will do.” I poked my head around the corner, and spotted what we’d been looking for the whole time; twin, red doors, marked ‘fire exit’. I waved everypony else closer. “Guys, we’ve found the exit. Almost out of here.”

“Thank Celestia,” breathed one pony. “Let’s get out of here!”

The ponies followed my lead, as I ran over to the door and pushed it open; a straight staircase led upwards, and I saw the green light of the fire exit sign above another door. I looked at the staircase as well, and couldn’t spot any obvious traps like tripwires, so I waved everypony forward.

The doors cludded open, and we stumbled into a vast warehouse; plexiglass skylights filled the room with sunlight, doors dotted the sides of the mostly empty warehouse along with small piles of sheet metal, and in the middle of the room...

“Well,” I muttered, “I guess we know where we are now, don’t we?”

The rhythmic sound of metal on metal filled the air, as one of the two humanoid figures standing in the middle of the warehouse clapped, chromed, mannequin-perfect features regarding us from atop a chrome, suited torso, robotic butler at his side. Two synthetic, red eyes regarded me critically, an unreadable enigma.

“Bravo, Dice Roller. I was wondering how long it’d take you to get here,” Lexicon said. “Welcome to the ‘Beyond’ part of Bed, Bath and Beyond.”

A/N: Wild Cardsby Aegis Exemplar - Coming soon to fanfiction near you.

X - Thrall

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story loosely set in Blaze’s Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 10 - Thrall

“Bed, Bath and Beyond,” I breathed. “Of all the places to hide kidnapped ponies...”

“Slow down, twolegs,” snorted Shield. “Standing upright must be deprive your brain of oxygen. Just because this is the shop where that truck evidently belongs, doesn’t make this our final destination; this... homewares store... is just another lead. How can you tell if we’re in the right place?”

I looked at Shield, and shrugged. We were the only people in the otherwise deserted car park, save for Cake, who loitered nearby in the air, and Ironshod, who was... (ponying?) the truck, ready for a quick getaway if needed.

“Call it a gut feeling,” I guessed. “I mean, this is the most unlikely place to hold a secret base, so it follows that this is where you’d put said secret base, yeah?”

Shield frowned, and Cake looked at him. “Human’s got a point.”

“Okay, fine.” Shield rolled his shoulders, worn armour shifting. “I’ll indulge you.”

“Admit it,” I smiled, “You think this is the place, too. You’re wearing your armour.”

Shield didn’t dignify that with a response, and remained silent as we approached the main doors of Bed, Bath and Beyond, Shield and Cake leading the way. As expected, the greeters responded to me and me alone, just like last time.

[Welcome to Bed, Bath and Beyond, sir.] The greeter droid bowed its’ head to me in greeting. [It is a pleasure to see you again so soon.]

“Again?” Cake asked, suspicious, and I shook my head.

“No, it’s not like that. I was here a few days ago, buying a bed.”

“Right,” Shield snorted. “Pull the other one, it’s got bells on... traitor.”

[What is Sir looking for, exactly?]

“Hmm, what indeed...” I looked at Shield. “I’m looking for ponies.”

“That’s not going to work!” Shield protested.

[Error. No products related to ‘ponies’ in the store,] declined the droid.

“Ha!” Shield said, triumphant. “Told you so, stupid hu-”

[I will attempt to locate ponies in our warehouse. Please do not move from this point.]

The droid bowed, and began to stalk away, towards a door marked as being for ‘Employees Only’. I looked at Cake and Shield, and nodded at the door.

“What are you guys waiting for? Follow him, this is your chance!”

“And let you out of our sight? You’re coming with us,” Shield said, pushing me forward with his head. I stepped forward involuntarily, and flinched when the greeter droid spun around to fix me with a digital glare.

[Sir. Please do not move from this point,] it intoned. [I shall return shortly.]

“See?” I nodded at the retreating droid. “Can’t follow, or he’ll just throw me out.”

“Humph.” Shield tapped a hoof irritably. “Cake, watch this monkey.”

The robot stalked on, and Shield followed with stealth - or what passed for stealth with him, anyway. Against a sentient target, it would have been a joke. But against the robot that was blind to anything not humanoid...

The robot unfolded an arm, and waved the hand at the access panel for the employee-only area. With a beep and a click, the door swung open, and the droid stalked inside. Like a white shadow, Shield followed, and the door sealed behind them. I looked at Cake.

“What’s he planning?” I asked.

Cake just shrugged. “Shield’s got a... direct approach to things. Whatever it is, it’ll be plain and clear.”

A loud crunching sound, and the thumping of steel on concrete filled the air, seeping out from the employee-only door. I grimaced as the faint whine of servos died away, and the door beeped once more.

Shield poked his head out, and waved a disembodied hand at us. “Come on, let’s go.”

Cake and I ran over to the door, and I pulled it open so we could get in; on the other side, in the half-light, lay a body of steel and plastic, chest and head caved in with destructive precision. Sparks fizzled pathetically from what was left of its arm, and Shield just looked at us.

“Now we can go together.”

I sighed, and followed the two ponies once more into the half-lit service corridors of Bed, Bath and Beyond, dusting off my jacket’s sleeve reflexively as I brushed against the wall. I frowned at it.

“Huh. Not very dusty in here,” I remarked.

“You got a thing for dust?” Cake frowned, looking back over his shoulder at me. I chuckled and shook my head.

“Of course not. But... if there’s no dust, it means this place sees a lot of activity.”

“Further reinforcing the theory that this is the place where all the ponies are being taken,” Shield finished, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, human. It wouldn’t be that easy. Perhaps this theory of yours involves a door labelled ‘Pony Storage’.”

“Well,” I pointed out, “It does now.”

“This is why we’re turning you... monkeys into ponies!” spluttered Shield, turning around completely. “Morons, the lot of you! You’re everything that’s wrong with the world, and the lowest of the low!”

“Uh, Shield,” Cake nudged the ex-guard in the side, but he ignored it.

“I have never seen creatures so... stupid!” Shield ranted on, “You wage war against yourselves, you backstab and cheat each other on a daily basis, and don’t even get me started on your disgusting... personal habits!”

“Shield!” Cake thumped Shield in the shoulder, and flinched when Shield’s head spun around to glare at him.

“What?!”

“Look!” Cake squeaked, a hoof, pointing down the corridor.

In the wall, very much out of place, was a simple, wooden door, painted red. On it, a small label written in permanent marker stood out.

“Pony Storage,” I read out. “How about that?”

Shield looked... irritated. The grinding of teeth could be heard in the quiet corridor.

“Let’s just go down, shall we?”

======

“Lexicon?” I asked. “What the hell is going on?” I gestured plaintively at the suited cyborg. “Don’t tell me you’re HLF!”

I stood at the head of a small mob - ex-prisoners, all. I was armoured and armed the best, with body armour and a handgun wedged into my belt, a cattle prod floated near my knee as I held it ready.

Before me, Lexicon - the chrome-plated cyborg who operated Bed, Bath and Beyond... along with his robotic butler, Jeeves. Apparently, he pulled double-duty as an almost cliche villain.

“Human Liberation Front? Me?” A bark of a laugh ripped forth from Lexicon’s vocalizer. “Don’t be absurd. For one, I can’t abide those disorganized, soft rabble-rousers. And another thing! Imagine a unicorn joining the Human Liberation Front! It’d be ridiculous! Treasonous, even!”

“You’re a unicorn?” I took a step back in surprise. “How?”

“Ahh,” Lexicon said, rocking on his feet. “That’s a tale and a half. Suffice to say, my equine body was weak, incapable. Blind, even. I sought to ascend myself, and that’s what I’ve done. As you can see, it’s turned out quite well, and now I seek to bring the gift of the machine form to other ponies as well!”

“You’ve got a twisted idea of how to give gifts,” I snorted. “Kidnapping ponies? My family?”

“Well,” Lexicon said, waving his hand around. “The project has hit a bit of a... hiccup. I’ve designed a simple body that can be mass-produced at minimal cost - a stark contrast to my own body - and it’s even self-sustaining. The problem just lies in getting brains out of the head, and into the body.” Lexicon paced idly around. “See, getting volunteers for what will likely be fatal tests is... hard. Human subjects, no problem. Ponies? They believe they have everything a soul could need, why would they participate?” Lexicon stopped pacing. “Surely, you understand. One must break a few eggs to bake a cake for benefit of all.”

“This is hardly a few eggs,” spoke up Snow Flake from behind me. “And no pony would accept this gift of yours if they had any inkling of how much equine blood was spilt just to achieve it.”

“Acceptance of the gift?” Lexicon laughed again. “My dear pony. You talk as if it’s optional.”

A snap of digital digits, and doors clunked open at the sides of the warehouse. Standing beyond, with spindly limbs and bulky torsos, was a host of iron, humanoid forms. I compared them to the droids I’d seen before - it was as if all the mass had been concentrated in the chest, with no thought for plating or reinforcement of the limbs. Simple. Utilitarian. Unrefined. Piercing, yellow lamps of eyes stared at us, and each of us, to a pony, felt uneasy.

“Behold,” Lexicon introduced, “The mk 1. Crude. Efficient. Flawed.”

“Flawed?” I snorted, as the droids stalked into the warehouse. “They look pretty functional to me, if a little rough.”

“Flawed not in body. Body is something that can be changed, remedied.” Lexicon tapped his head. “Flawed in the brain. The procedure is incomplete, the pony-machine-interface flawed. Once lively equine souls, these mostly-brain-dead automatons are now no more than... well. Slightly autonomous machines. My attempts to recreate the operation that made me without a magical prodigy like Twilight Sparkle on hoof to assist have met only with failure thus far.”

“You mean...” I put two and two together, and guessed what lay between. “These droids... were once ponies?”

“Living and breathing, like yourself, yes. Fleshy.” Lexicon sighed as one of his creations stumbled on it’s own feet. “Weak. Now... they have sacrificed the weakness of the flesh for the ineptitude of a brain dominated mostly by primitive logic and slaved to commands.”

“Hardly sounds superior to me,” Snow Flake snorted. “Can’t even think it’s way out of a paper bag. Probably three-laws compliant and not a lot more.”

“It’s a work in progress,” dismissed Lexicon. “I failed to account for brain death during the operation. Much of each brain required replacement. I have been improving the transfer process, but I require more subjects.”

“Which is where we would have come in, yes?” I guessed.

“Correct, Dice Roller.” Lexicon nodded. “However, you’ve forced my hand. I will make you a deal, unicorn.” Lexicon gestured to me. “Submit willingly, and you will become like myself, if I am able. A body finer than the others, and if the operation succeeds as intended, no loss of faculty.”

A quiet murmur from the ponies behind me filled the air. A few of them voiced their suggestions to me at volume.

“Don’t you bloody dare!”

“Tell him to Bed, Bath and Blow himself!”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d just... sell out like that,” I declined, chuckling. “I’m very sorry, but I set my price much, much higher than that.”

“Well said, Dice,” Glitter whispered.

“Hmm.” Lexicon looked unimpressed. “So be it. I had hoped to use words, but clearly, you’re intractable. I suppose I shall have to settle for dead subjects this time, work on refining the chassis.”

The scrape of hooves filled the air, and I looked back to see the prisoners readying themselves for a fight - unarmed they were, but those who could looked prepared to fight to the very end.

“There might be more of your... failed experiments... than us,” I stated, “But they don’t look very combat ready.”

Lexicon looked surprised that he’d made such a mistake, and motioned to the crude cyborgs, which nodded in reply, and made their way to the doors of the warehouse.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of pitting living ponies against these failures alone,” Lexicon snorted. “No, that would be a waste of valuable metal. No, I shall simply have Jeeves deal with you.”

Silence filled the air. Then laughter echoed forth from the rear of the group. Big ‘n’ orange stood, hunched over in mirth, Blue struggling to remain on his back amidst the laughter that rocked his carrier.

“That little machine-man?” he chuckled. “Please. Tell me you’re serious. Perhaps you’ll even leave the doors unbarred, so we can make a timely exit.”

I just snorted, and drew my purloined handgun; I’d always fancied myself a bit of a marksman as a human, and I reckoned I could still do it as a pony. I levitated the gun in front of my face, taking aim, and fired.

My aim was true - with a smash of plastic and metal alloy, Jeeves fell over, a sparking hole in his faceplate. However, my telekinetic grip was weak and the handgun jackhammered back into my snout.

I sat on my rump in pain, and swore as I dropped the gun in surprise. Aside from the clatter of metal and plastic on concrete, and some quiet sniggers from the ponies behind me, there was silence. Lexicon didn’t so much as flinch, despite the bullet having passed very close to him.

“Well, there’s your plan shot,” I stated, getting up and retrieving the gun. “Give it up, Lexicon. Jeeves, your defensive plan, is dead, and I don’t have any problems shooting you as well.”

Lexicon just snorted. “Poor, poor, Dice. Little known fact about Jeeves - he’s what we call a ‘distributed AI’. That means he’s one AI personality in many, many bodies. He’s my chef, he’s my butler, he’s my gardener, and above all... he’s my bodyguard. Killing one body only slows him down...”

There was a horrendous screaming of metal as the far doors buckled and tore, sheet metal being bent and torn asunder by thick digits that stabbed through it, as if it were tissue paper.

The warehouse floor shook as the thing on the other side stepped through a hole, enlarging it as it went. Three times as big as a tank, with armour-plating and a heavy tread to match. Steel creaked slightly as its two legs struggled to hold up such mass.

“Celestia preserve us,” big orange breathed quietly. “It’s like a minotaur made of steel... only bigger.”

“Jeeves.” Lexicon stepped to the side, allowing his minion a clear charging lane. “Deal with them.”

I wasted no time, and fired a second shot - not aimed at Jeeves, but aimed at Lexicon. With movements that were almost a blur, Lexicon moved his head to try and avoid the shot - with a tearing of metal, he staggered to the side, a large gouge taken out of his right eye and the surrounding faceplate.

I’d learned from my previous mistake, and not put the gun in front of my snout; I went to take another shot, only for a massive steel hand to lash out and block my line of fire; with a harmless pling, the round bounced off, and I swallowed hard.

The sound of Lexicon running away could be faintly heard over the sounds of heavy machinery revving up in the new Jeeves, and I felt somepony tap me on the shoulder.

“What do we do now, Dice?” Glitter asked, uncertain.

“What do we do?” I looked to the right, and saw an open doorway. “We run!”

======

"For an evil lair, this is a very big place," Cake remarked quietly, creeping along.

"Compensating for something, I think," I guessed.

"Quiet, you two," hissed Shield. "I just heard something."

We strained our ears, and heard the heavy tread of boots.

Cake pulled a face as he tried to quietly express his distress, and managed to choke out, "Now what?"

"Hide?" I suggested.

Shield's head flicked around to confirm what he already knew. "No chance. No hiding places."

"One thing left to do then," I said, squaring my shoulders. "Play along."

The human we heard finally rounded the corner ahead of us, and jumped as he saw the three of us.

"Hey! Who are you?" he demanded, pointing his rifle at us.

"Relax, numbnuts," I replied, "I'm on your side, Lexicon's springing for my paycheck. Caught these two on my way in here to see him," I cuffed Shield on the back of the head, "slinking about upstairs - good thing, too, I think they're scouts for the PER."

"PER? Already?" The guard looked alarmed. "Shit! Think they got word out?"

I shook my head. "Nah, but I'm sure they'll be missed. I'll squeeze the info outta them before long, though. Get the jump on 'em, hit them in their own home, so to speak." An idea occurred to me. "Where abouts are the cells?"

"Cells?" the sentry pointed back the way he'd come. "Sixth left down that way, second right. Denny's the one watching the prisoners today. Tell him William says 'Hi'."

"Will do," I nodded. William seemed pleased.

"Nice to see Lexicon employed someone who's actually competent. Spot anything else out-of-the-ordinary up there?"

I nodded. "Busted-up robot. They musta done it."

"Shiiiit," William swore. "Alright, thanks. I'll go deal with that, you go deal with those ponies."

"Okay. Come on, you stupid horses, no funny business."

The human sentry jogged off the way we'd come from, and we did the same at a much more sedate pace, making our way to the cells.

"I can't believe that worked," snorted Cake quietly. "Good thinking, twolegs."

"Aren't you glad you brought me along now?" I grinned.

"Did you have to hit me so hard?" Shield complained. "That seemed a little excessive."

"Sorry," I lied, "It had to look believable."

"Believable, my flank."

A whisper of moving wind reached my ears and I stopped; Cake and Shield looked back at me.

"What is it?" Shield asked quietly.

"Did you hear anything?" I whispered, wary of more sentries.

"Nope," Cake shook his head. "Probably just a trick of the m-"

I didn't hear what it could possibly be a trick of, because a tan missile shot out from around the corner, and slammed into my chest - with a gentle squeak of my back on the polished concrete floor, I slid backwards, my assailant riding on top of me the whole way.

"Go! Run!" the missile shouted, "I got this guy!"

A hoof wound back, and awkwardly thumped me in the face as I attempted to lift what was obviously a pegasus off my chest.

"Augh! What the fuck?!" I protested, straining to lift the determined pegasus off me. "Dude! Chill!"

"I'll give you something to chill about, kidnapper!" retorted the pegasus, smashing my hand away and preparing to give me a proper socking.

"Hey! Stop!" A brown set of hooves looped around the pegasus, and pulled. The strike went astray, and I got up awkwardly.

The tan pegasus was being restrained by Cake, and didn't seem happy about it. Shield looked like he was torn between enjoying the beatdown and a sense of obligation to stop it.

"Let me go! He's one of the kidnappers, unless... you traitor! You've betrayed us all!" The pegasus thrashed, and Shield finally made his decision.

"Silence, you foalish colt!" Shield grabbed the struggling pegasus' face and pulled it towards his own with a hoof. "This human is here because he's got family to save. Find someone else to beat on."

The pegasus strained, and gave up. "Fine. I'll take your word for it." The pegasus was released, and he smoothed himself down, and looked at his hooves. "I'm Chord Thorn, and... well, I'm sorry I jumped you like that."

"Ah, no hard feelings," I shook my head. "I've been hit harder today, haven't I, Shield?"

"Don't push it, Cooper."

"Cooper?" Chord Thorn rubbed his chin, and my eye was drawn to his blinded eye, framed by a large scar. "Who are you here for?"

"Looking for my family, the Flakes, and my brother Dice."

"Dice?" Thorn looked me in the eye. "You know Dice, too?"

"You've seen him?"

"Seen him?" Thorn let out a short bark of laughter. "If it weren't for him, I reckon we wouldn't be here talking to each other, and everypony'd still be in irons!" Thorn sat down. "I mean, it might have been my brains that got us out, but if he wasn't in the same cell as me, I don't think it would have gone as well."

"Where are they?" I reached out and grabbed Thorn by the shoulders.

"Back that way," he jerked his head back the way he'd come from, the way we'd been heading. "I left him to see if I could find my coat. No luck so far."

"Why is your coat so darn important?" Cake asked. "Ponies are more important than coats, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but my coat's got my things in it," Thorn pointed out. "Things that could be useful to help us escape."

"Well," Shield said, "We're here, now. Let's find everyone else and get them out."

Thorn nodded, and led the way. I noted the scars that poked through his coat, and frowned.

“What’s with the scars, Thorn?” I asked, displaying my usual tact.

“You mess with spike traps and the like as long as I have,” he grunted, “you pick up the odd memento. Except this one,” he pointed a hoof at his blind eye, and the scar that crossed it. “This one was the only price I paid for tangling with... well, let’s just call him a ghost from my past.”

“Ghosts don’t swing blades,” Shield pointed out. “What was it, really?”

“A ghost with a magic sword and less blame for my father’s death than I first thought,” Thorn said, sidestepping the question once again. “This isn’t really the time, is it?”

A door ahead of us hung ajar, and Thorn pushed it open, clicking his tongue in frustration.

“Well, this is where they were,” Thorn grumbled, checking the empty cells. “Must’ve headed out somewhere.”

I poked my head around the corner of one cell, seeing an unconscious human lying there, bound and gagged. “What about this guy?”

“That guy?” Thorn snorted. “Bad guy. Don’t let him out, I had to knock him senseless.”

I nodded. “I can believe that.”

Cake tapped the door at the other end of the cells with a hoof, drawing our attention. “Think they went through here?”

“Maybe,” Thorn said, “But Dice was probably running the show.” He nodded to me. “You know him best, where would he go?”

“Probably head off and look for you,” I guessed, wondering what I’d do. “Try and find a way out? Both?”

Thorn nodded. “Seems like his style.”

A ground-shaking thud echoed through the ceiling, small drifts of dust falling loose, and we all flinched.

“What in the hay was that?” Cake asked me, alarmed.

“Search me!” I retorted.

“I think we better find everypony, and soon,” Shield grunted. “Before we’re too late.”

======

Ponies ran left, right and center like multicoloured ants across the assembly yard, from the magnifying glass of fury that was combat-form Jeeves.

I watched as an oversized fist slammed down on a shipping container, crushing it flat with a crunch and tear of steel; the ponies who had been hiding behind it only narrowly missing becoming pancakes as well. The skies were thick with ponies taking flight if they were able, and either making a break for it or playing decoy, flying circles around the less-nimble droid.

On the ground, the clumsy Mk 1’s gave chase to their more alive bretheren, attempting to hold them still and generally telling Jeeves where they were hiding.

“Ohchristohchristohchrist,” I burbled, running as fast as my legs could take me - this was the sort of thing that I got in movies and videogames, not real life! Who builds giant robots in real life?

[STOP RUNNING,] demanded Jeeves, ground shaking with every (relatively) small step he took towards us; I realized that despite clearly not knowing what to do, a good portion of the ponies I’d helped escape were still hanging around me, moving with me as I ran.

“Why are you guys still following me?” I asked, exhaustedly. I don’t know if I’ve said this, but cardio. Or something. Fitness needed a good kicking.

“Figure you’ve got a better idea of what to do,” big orange said, Blue clutching to the back of his head tightly. Despite the extra burden, big and orange wasn’t even close to out of breath.

“Well, I don’t - so run for it! Get out of here, split up!”

“And leave our son to fight our battle for us?” Snow Flake’s voice drifted down, and I looked up to see my family hovering in the air above me; some of the few pegasi who had elected to stick around.

“You guys, especially,” I waved a hoof at them. “Go on, fly! I got this!”

“But you just said you don’t,” Glitter pointed out, flying to the side rapidly; the small group under her also split, just in time to avoid a metal fist.

“I say a lot of things!” I retorted, running hard, diving for cover behind another series of metal crates; with a sweep of a hand, Jeeves sent other metal crates my way, which banged and bounced off my cover and landed around me, one missing my leg by inches.

“What about that time when you flunked a whole semester’s worth of papers, and we only found out when one of your tutors mentioned how impressed they were when you turned your career around?” Gold Flake shouted, rolling under a crane arm as it rotated to try and swat her out of the sky, controls moving on their own.

“Is now really the time to bring up my inability to plan?” I shouted back, slipping between crates to make my escape, just seconds before a box finally landed where I’d been sitting.

“Point is, Dice,” my father picked up the conversation, swooping down and lifting me into the sky, “You’re good at thinking on your hooves, and that’s what we need right now!”

“Besides,” Gold pointed out, “Can’t you hack the robot or something?”

I let out a sarcastic bark of laughter. “Really? Hack the robot? Assuming I managed to get into the control panel, wherever it is, it’d be pure luck if I actually managed to stop it!”

“Well, what’s that butt-marking for, then?” Glitter demanded, pointing at my flank. “You’ve got a talent, why not use it?”

I looked back at my flank, and two dice looked back at me. I felt like I could pound my face through the back of my head with the force of the face-hoof I wanted to perform.

“I can’t believe it took me this long to work it out!” I fumed. “Saints alive! Dad!”

“Yes, Dice?” Snow grunted, banking sharply as he avoided a thrown crate.

“Drop me on top of that robot. I’m going to shut it down, or die trying.”

“That’s my son,” Snow said, proudly. Despite his calm, measured personality, he was fond of the occasional, reckless choice. This seemed like one of those choices.

Snow wasted no time, banking around for a run on Jeeves - the robotic behemoth was entertaining itself by trying to flatten a trio of ponies hiding in crates; a game that the ponies were winning at present, thanks to their uncanny ability to duck down and appear in a different crate, but were destined to lose as each attempt Jeeves made to crush them resulted in a flattened, unusuable crate.

As such, the robot didn’t see me coming until I hit his armour plating. And what plating - vast slabs of steel, mounted on pivots and hinges; I landed with a bang on the smooth surface, my entire body sitting on his shoulder like an equine parrot.

The ponies below made their getaway as Jeeves reared up, trying to swat me off his back with hands as big as I was; I shuffled to the centre of his back to avoid the swings, delighting in the fact that Jeeves was barely flexible enough to touch his own head, let alone the back of his neck.

I tucked my hooves in as a blast of heat wooshed near them; I looked back to see the exhaust ports for the what powered the behemoth sitting on Jeeves’ back; and not a lot of space between me and them. I bit my lip as the vents fired again, and I felt the heat on my flank - the smell of burnt hair told me what was happening to my tail.

I spotted a convenient panel located just between the shoulderblades, and hop-crawled over to it, reading the label - “system override panel”.

“That’s convenient,” I muttered, reaching out to try and pull the hatch off. I strained and pulled, to no avail as the hatch refused to budge. I saw why, and wanted to headbutt the panel I was clinging to for being so stupid.

It was bolted down. Now what? I absent-mindely drummed a telekinetic grip on the tools I had wedged inside my armoured vest; cattle prod and... handgun.

I frowned. This sort of thing only worked in movies and trashy novels, right? I drew the gun and put the nose to the recessed screws, blocking one ear with a free hoof. With a loud crack, the gun discharged, and I pulled it away; sitting in a deep channel was a small nugget of twisted lead, embedded in what was left of a screw. I blew my mane out of my face in surprise.

I didn’t say anything, and moved onto the next screw; three gunshots later, and some close calls as Jeeves redoubled his efforts to dislodge me, and I was staring at a slew of wires and moving pistons.

“Oh for the love of - “ I ran a hoof down my face. “Why are there so many goddamn wires?” I lamented out loud.

“Cut the red one!” Glitter suggested helpfully, as she swooped nearby, under a swing of Jeeves’ fist.

“No! Black! Power cables are always black!” Snow shouted.

I looked at the wires on hand. “They’re all grey!”

“Well, pick one!” Glitter shouted.

I rolled my eyes, muttering murderously and uncharitably about my family. I’d missed their trademark conflicting advice. I opted for the third option, and drew the cattle prod. I wondered what would happen if I managed to short out a robot bigger than most houses. I also wondered how often people wondered that.

Not many, I decided, as I toggled the power switch on the prod and jabbed it point-first into the mass of wires. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a spark arced, and Jeeves experienced a 12,000 volt in a place the designers probably hadn’t thought about - after all, what were the odds, right?

I was thrown from the robot with a sudden jolt, cutting a gentle parabolic arc and landing in a pile of boxes on the ground, against the wall with a crunch, giving me prime seats to watch my handiwork unfold.

Spitting sparks, Jeeves was having trouble controlling himself; everypony else backed off swiftly as the robot jerked and juddered it’s way into a warehouse wall, crashing through it with a tearing of steel. It groaned and strained, to no effect; a dull, pervasive whine wound down, and things were finally silent. The Mk 1 cyborgs around still moved, but most had been crushed by Jeeves in the fight or incapacitated by capable hooves. The ones that still could move looked a little lost... as much as they could, anyway.

I just watched from my impromptu seat as the dust cleared, and looked at the cattle prod that I’d managed to hold onto. That had been... extreme. And improbable.

“That was amazing!” big orange shouted, trotting over to see if I needed any help. “How’d you do that?”

“I just... stabbed his neck wiring with the prod,” I confessed. “I have no idea why or how that happened.”

"Mister Dice probably shorted out crucial power supply lines," Blue remarked, poking his head out from behind Orange's mane. "If this was a videogame, it'd be like, a trap or something."

“I hope not,” Snow remarked, touching down, and helping me out of the boxes. My sister and mother sat not far away, catching their breath.

"Hey, Dice!" Thorn's voice rang out, and I looked around to see the scarred pegasus headed my way.

"Hey Thorn - you missed all the fun," I said, jabbing a hoof at him. "Where were you?"

"Looking for my stuff. Never found it. Guess what I did find, though?"

"Dice, what the hell is all this, man?" I moved my head to see three familiar shapes running towards me - Duke, and those two PER recruiters. “We came here to save you, and we find you’e already saved everyone!”

"Duke?" I had my mouth open, but someone else had beaten me to the punch. My mother.

"Oh," Duke said, jogging to a halt next to us. "Hi Mum, Dad. Looking good. Uh... what's with the faces?"

I found myself the subject of glares from the flight of pegasi that was my family.

"You!" Snow spat, his wrath aroused. "We thought you were our son! How dare you impersonate him?!”

Oh right, I realized, I never did break the news, did I?

I saw a white hoof drawing back, and sighed mentally, turning my head to give my father a clean shot. Duke could explain it.

Whack.

XI - Loaded Dice

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story loosely set in Blaze’s Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 11 - Loaded Dice

"Dad!" I flung my arms out in a very belated gesture of protest, as Dice slumped to the ground, out cold. Nobody else moved.

"What is it, Duke?"

"You hit him!"

"He tricked us!" Snow spat. "I can't believe we fell for it! Hell, I'm ashamed that I know my son so poorly, that someone could impersonate my own son!"

"I thought he was your son, though," Thorn remarked, looking to me. "He's your brother, isn't he?"

"Well, I -"

"You said he was a room-mate," picked Shield, "Which is it?"

"I-it... uh, it's not that simple..." I searched for a way to break the news.

"Oh my god," Glitter breathed. "Don't tell me I've got a gay brother!"

"And what's wrong with bein' gay?" Cake interrupted hotly.

Everyone looked at the pegasus, surprised. Even Shield, to my delight.

"You... like stallions?" Shield asked. "I never had you pegged for... well. Pegging."

"O-of course!" Cake wrung his hooves. "That cowpony in Appleoosa - you know the one, Shield - made me feel a way I've never felt about mares, and it just... happened." Cake coughed, and shook his head. "Enough about me, though, aren't we grilling the human?"

“Yes, we are,” Shield turned back to me, and I saw Cake sag ever so slightly with relief. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

I frowned. “I need to explain nothing. You’re to blame for all of this, Shield!”

“Me?!” Shield put a hoof on his chest, stunned. “How do I have anything to do with this deception of yours?”

I opened my mouth to tell him just what I thought, as I poked him in the chest, when a steady thopping filled the air, and my train of thought jumped rails.

“Is that a helicopter?”

Snow’s face relaxed only slightly, from confusion to concern. “Sounds like three helicopters.”

Right on cue, a trio of choppers flew over the warehouses, dust blowing everywhere from the rotors as they started hovering over the courtyard. All around, doors crashed open and armoured ponies and humans ran out, brandishing weapons lethal and otherwise.

“This is the police! Everyone, hands and hooves in the air, get down on the ground!”

“Oh, look,” I remarked, “It’s the cavalry, a bit late.”

All around the courtyard, ponies got down and took cover; the less-intelligent Mk 1’s shambling about took no such action, setting them apart from the equines fleeing them, and making them targets for the lethally-armed human police officers.

I got down on my knees as the pop of suppressed and regular gunfire filled the air, followed by crunching of steel and plastic.

"Late," Shield nodded from his own position on the ground, "Yes. But worth the wait. Who called them?"

“My son," Snow Flake spat, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. "The colt has the phone, I think."

"You there!" A voice rang out; a pony wearing bureau-security armour had a hoof pointed at me. "Freeze!"

I realized how it looked - one human, and a bunch of ponies around him, in a pony kidnapping case. You couldn't deny that I looked suspicious as hell. At least he wasn't shooting m-

"Officer Beepsky! Arrest!" A voice shouted behind me.

"Beepsky?" I raised an eyebrow and turned my head to see what poor person or machine earned the name 'Beepsky'... just in time to see a hulking, polished-white-shelled robot with two large chainguns for hands. How do I know they were chainguns? I was looking down the barrels.

Fortunately, for myself and the writing of this story, those big honking guns didn't turn me to swiss cheese. Instead, a smaller attachment detonated, and threw two small pins at me, fibre-thin cable playing out behind. They punched through my jacket and shirt, and I felt two pricks on my chest, like I'd stabbed myself with a safety pin twice.

There was a moment of clarity, where I knew my place in the world, and what was to come. A moment of truth and knowledge, where I comprehended the pins, cables, and their use in 'arresting' someone.

Tazer.

"Oh, fuck m-eeeheheheeeeeeeeeeeeee-" I managed to say, before getting tazed rendered me incapable of speech.

"Duke!" my family exclaimed as one, as I succumbed to ungodly voltages and fell over twitching.

Shield sniggered, and I wanted to thump him so very hard. But staying awake hurt just a little more, and darkness overtook me,

======

I woke up lying on a stretcher, a sky of dull green over me - a tent of some sort. I tried to get up, and heard a rattle as something restrained my hoof.

I frowned as I looked at the offending object - a set of handcuffs binding my hooves to the stretcher itself. I gave them a more vigorous tug, to no avail.

I looked at the tent itself; it was set up on the same concrete of the courtyard, so we hadn't gone far from where I'd been knocked out. By my father, punching me.

"I can't believe Dad did that," I muttered, recalling how hard he'd hit me.

"Tell me about it."

I looked to my right, and in a stretcher next to me, Duke lay. He gave me a small wave with a similarily-restrained limb, and I snorted, trying to contain my laughter.

"Yeah, yeah," Duke grunted. "Yuk it up."

My human counterpart's short hair stuck up at all angles, an impromptu and ill-advised afro. It was comical, and meant one thing.

"I take it the talk with dad went poorly?' I guessed. "He thought both of us were impostors? Hit you with a thundercloud?"

"Actually," Duke shook his head, "I didn't get a chance to talk to Dad about it. The cops and SWAT arrived, and Beepsky arrested me before I could spill the beans."

"Oh." I nodded. "We owe Unibro for that, he pulled all the strings."

He nodded. "I heard. He must have some serious pull. I don't think he's just a receptionist like he says he is."

"So," I said, "You didn't clear up the whole two-of-us thing, did you?"

Duke coughed awkwardly. "Yeah. Getting tazed tends to put a kibosh on conducting a heartfelt conversation with your parental figures."

"So, now that we're both awake, I guess we can expect an interrogation in three... two... one..."

We looked to the tent flap at the same time, and nothing happened. We both drooped in disappointment.

"I really thought he'd barge in about now," Duke muttered. "I guess luck just isn't with us today."

"Speak for yourself," I retorted. "I took down that giant robot! On my own!"

"I saw," Duke said. "It's just like one of my Japanese videogames - next thing you know, one of us is going to have a stupid hairstyle, wear an excess of belts and buckles on their clothes, and then swing a giant weapon around as they invoke the power of being the chosen one or something."

"We're halfway there," I cautioned. "Your hair counts."

"Oh, shit," Duke muttered, feeling it. "Keep me away from blades of destiny and belt-laden outfits, for the love of god. I'm not boyishly handsome enough to be bishounen, it would be a crime against humanity."

"It would be funny, though."

"For you, maybe!" Duke exclaimed, looking at me. "You're not the silly fop who has to wear it! You're lucky there hasn't been a pony hero for a Japanese videogame yet!"

I felt my face with my hooves. "I think I'd look pretty damn good as a bishounen pony, to be honest."

"Keep dreaming, brickface."

With a rustle of fabric, and swish of wind, the tent flap flew open, and my- our father, Snow Flake, stormed in; following behind, looking uncertain was our mother and our sister, along with two human police officers cradling rifles - presumably for a 'just in case' scenario.

"Hi, Dad," I waved a hoof. "Feel better after hitting me?"

"Yes!" Snow snorted, and shook his head. "No! I don't know! I've got two people telling me they're both my son, when I know I've only had one! Both of them are collaborating! I don't understand!"

"Duke, tell him," I sighed. "Since you were slow to do it earlier."

Duke grumbled at being handed the buck, and cleared his throat. "Okay, this is all true, alright? We are both your son, we are the same person."

"That's clearly wrong," one of the police officers volunteered, before realizing he shouldn't be speaking and shutting himself up. Snow nodded.

"The man's got a point," he said, nodding to Duke. "You're human. He's a unicorn. If my son was going to be a pony, wouldn't he be a pegasus like the rest of his family? Right now, I'm thinking neither of you are really my son, and this is all some sort of convoluted plot."

"Think again, Dad," I said. "More specifically, think about your old job."

"My old job? CPU design, Synthetic Design R&D Lab 283," Snow rattled off reflexively. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"You guys ponified right off the bat," Duke picked up. "Left everything you had to us, which was fine."

I pointed a hoof at Snow. "You left us your work's health plan life insurance contract."

"I did?" Snow turned a sickly pale, managing to go whiter than white. "You... died?"

"That's where that Shield guy comes in," Duke said. "He's with the PER, he shot us with a potion dart."

"A dart that had an experimental serum in it," I recapped. "Unibro can testify on that one, we asked him to look it up."

"Killed us on the operating table, so to speak," Duke concluded. "Serum still worked, but technically, we went dead and never woke up as a human, so..."

"Re-life." Snow bit his lip. "I get it, now, Duke. You're saying you're a re-life clone."

"It probably explains why I'm a unicorn, too," I tapped my horn. "I mean, a serum that kills most people hit with it..."

"What do you guys think?" Duke appealed to Glitter and Gold. "You've heard our story."

"I..." Gold shook her head. "This is unbelievable. I'd say impossible, but... I went from a career as a human biologist in Synthetic Design's City 01, to a pegasus printer in a city made of clouds. Anything can happen, I guess..."

"I believe you," Glitter voted. "I'm getting a strange vibe off you guys, and it's hard to tell you apart without focussing on physical differences."

"Wait, really?" I asked.

"Hmm," Glitter nodded thoughtfully. "It's like... listening to you, in stereo. You sound different, and you look different, but at your core, you both seem like the same person, you know?"

"Sound different, huh?" I smiled. "Do I sound a little horse?"

"Ha!" Duke laughed just once. "That was awful."

"It was," Gold nodded, chuckling. "But that's Duke, alright."

"Well," Snow snorted, looking at his wife and daughter. "If you guys buy it... then it doesn't matter. Whether we're right or not doesn't matter, I just want my family to be happy."

"That's great!" Duke said, brightly. "Now that we got the big pink elephant out of the way, can someone uncuff us? These handcuffs are in the way of me being happy."

======

The police officer walked through the darkened assembly building, his handgun held low and ready to shoot.

"Stay sharp, Beepsky," he said quietly, over his radio. "Gotta be in here somewhere."

[Affirmative,] Beepsky replied; the hulking policebot was moving with unexpected stealth and agility for something so big and heavily armed.

The police officer rubbed his fingers together in thought; a trail of leaking lubricant had gone from the warehouse where the ringleader, Lexicon, had supposedly been shot, all the way to here. And they'd already checked around the building for other exits, of which there were none.

The officer could smell an arrest. Perhaps he could make detective before going pony; it'd look good on his CV, that was for sure.

He brushed against a dangling chain as he came to a large packing area, flanked by Beepsky. The rattle of chains echoed through the air, and he saw something on the ground.

"Beepsky, gimme a light on that lump," he said, pointing. Beepsky responded by shining a flashlight on the shape.

A chromed mannequin lay on the ground on it's side, in a small puddle of lubricant, a once-fine suit ruined by the chemical compound. The officer walked forward and prodded it with the toe of his boot.

"Nothin'. Might be dead. But I never heard of a robot going down like this. Beepsky, roll him over?"

The policebot complied, making use of a heavy-set foot to do the job; the shirt was undone, and suit hanging open. A hollow cavity layexposed in Lexicon's torso, the chestplate resting on the ground nearby.

"A cyborg," the officer nodded. "Makes a little more sense... but not much." The officer looked closer at the torso, Beepsky's spotlight illuminating the myriad systems that had become substitutes for standard human biology. "This guy's gone full 'borg - he's basically a free-thinking robot right now... Where's his brain?"

The thrum of a generator powering up filled the air, and the officer turned around in the rapidly illuminating warehouse to see two glowing, red eyes.

“What the f-”

======

"Right," the police sergeant said, clapping his hands together. "Now that we've established who's good and who isn't, I'll give you guys an update."

I was sitting with Dice and the rest of my family in the back of a police van, drinking hot soup and listening to the debriefing that the policeman in charge was giving.

"We caught all those freaky brainbots," the Sergeant declared. "All of them are showing braindead, and it's the mechanical systems pulling all the strings, so we're pulling the plug on them. Also found logs of who got turned into those things; we're gonna be spending a few weeks pairing up brains with names, unfortunately. Thankfully, the person in charge left detailed records."

"You mean Lexicon," I pointed out. "He's in charge. He even said so himself."

"It would appear so," the Sergeant nodded. "However, we haven't found him yet, and there could easily be someone higher up than him pulling the strings, so we can't jump to conclusions."

"What can you charge him with?" Snow asked. "He's got to pay for what he's done."

"That's the problem," the Sergeant said sadly. "This all hinges on evidence. If we can find enough on him to decisively link him to this whole debacle, then he's going away for a very long time, his Equestrian citizenship'll be of no use to him in this case. Equestria's cut this guy loose. But if he's got nothing on him, then we've got no case and he'll walk. It'll be a dirty walk, but I get the feeling that won't stop him doing this all again, only smarter."

"What about Jeeves?" Dice asked, pointing towards the titanic-sized wreck. "Isn't that proof enough?"

"Jeeves is an AI," the Sergeant said, shaking his head. "Even if we managed to find traces of that AI's influence on that robot body, Lexicon could easily claim his AI was subverted and as much as a jury or judge might like to dismiss that claim, there's no way to say it wasn't. He'll walk even cleaner."

"Oh, for the love of god," I snorted, sitting back, and taking a long drink of my soup. "I officially hate this guy, now. First he sells us soaps, then he hits Dice with a car, then he kidnaps and attempts to 'borg my entire family."

"He hit you with a car?" The Sergeant asked Dice, quickly.

"Yeah," Dice nodded. "Seemed like an accident at the time, although now, I'm not too sure."

"Hmm... Yes!" The Sergeant snapped his fingers. "We got him. If you'll testify in court, Dice, we can nail him on trumped-up hit-and-run charge."

"You're telling us it'll be trumped-up?" Gold asked. "Isn't that a bit dishonest and unethical?"

"Probably," the Sergeant said. "But what matters is that justice is dealt. We can arrest him on charges of that hit-and-run, then I'll make a few calls and have some evidence planted."

"He'll claim that he got framed!" I exclaimed. "This'd be worse than just pressing charges as-is!"

"Hey - we still got the testimony of at least twenty other ponies that they saw Lexicon order the start of the attack, and tell Dice here his plans," the Sergeant said. "We're not fabricating a charge, we're just nailing it down. Justice might be blind, but we're not."

"Good enough for me," Snow nodded. "Have you found Lexicon yet?"

"Officers have been reporting in for the last five minutes," the Sergeant said. "Nothing yet. Just waiting on Ricketts and Beepsky."

"Fucking Beepsky," I muttered, rubbing my chest. I'd since managed to get my hair back to normal, but I'd always feel that one.

"He's just doin' his job," the Sergeant defended. "It's not personal."

"I know."

"I pity Lexicon if Beepsky finds him first, though," the Sergeant chuckled. "Beepsky's hostility circuit's rated a little higher than most SK-7's, and Lexicon is officially a 'borg, and so warrants a more... aggressive arrest policy."

The way the Sergeant said 'aggressive', I wondered if he was really suited to the job of police officer - he seemed far too inclined to brutality and falsified evidence to be a truly upstanding officer.

"Throw in the fact that Beepsky's a two-ton, law-enforcing machine,” the Sergeant continued, “and I think we can safely say that if he spots Lexicon, Lexicon's getting arrested."

The sounds of a titanic, mechanical roar split the air, and the rapid rattle of chaingun fire filled that split as quickly as it started. We looked around, and spotted a warehouse

"That's Beepsky's chainguns at work now," the Sergeant said, proudly. "Any minute now..."

The heavy impact of steel on steel echoed out of the warehouse, and with a tearing of sheet metal, a large, white body flew through the door at speeds that would rival a speeding car. With a clang, it hit the supports of a crane, bounced to the ground, and went still, sparking and fizzing. The barrels of it's chaingun-hands were still spinning and smoking.

A police officer stumbled out of the warehouse, and ran towards us, shouting in alarm.

"Lexicon! We found Lexicon!" Ricketts screamed. "He's fucking- Beepsky! Like a ragdoll!"

"Slow down, Ricketts," the Sergeant said, ignoring the sounds of continuing mechanical mayhem from the warehouse and grabbing the panicking officer. "Where is Lexicon?"

"He's in the warehouse! He's a fucking d- dra-"

The roof of the warehouse exploded in a gout of flame and smoke, and the warehouse shook as a massive metal claw planted itself firmly on the edges. With a whine of pistons and motors, something emerged. Metal wings the size of houses unfurled. A neck craned out, extending the length of the creature to at least fifty feet, not counting anything that might still be in the warehouse itself. A head that was long, angular, and very, very dangerous looking.

And naturally, it was chrome. Always with the chrome.

"It's a dragon," I breathed. "A fucking robot dragon. A fucking cybernetic, villainous, robotic dragon!"

"They don't pay me enough," the Sergeant muttered.

XII - Dragoon

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story loosely set in Blaze’s Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 12 - Dragoon

"It's a dragon," Duke breathed. "A fucking robot dragon. A fucking cybernetic, villainous, robotic dragon!"

"They don't pay me enough," the Sergeant muttered.

"Why is he- why can't he just stay down?" I lamented. "He's so cliche, it hurts. He's probably going to tout the perfection of his new form next, I'm calling it."

The chrome dragon heaved itself into the air. It's sheer bulk and size colluded with the laws of physics and said it should fall right out of the sky; but it flew nonetheless and the dragon remained aloft, swooping around to land on top of an intact warehouse.

Police officers from all over the iron foundry ran to the courtyard to see the immense machine, and cower in fear. The dragon seemed amused by this show of weakness.

"You do well to fear me," it boasted. "Behold, the pinnacle of forms; the power of machines is combined with the power of the greatest non-machine form in all of existience, the Dragon!"

"Called it," I muttered to Duke, who blew a raspberry in dismissal.

"What about the Alicorn?" a small voice piped up.

"Hm?" the dragon scrutinized the growing crowd with disdain. "I thought I heard something ridiculous."

A small blue foal moved to a higher position, standing on top of his mobile footstool proudly, the larger orange stallion bearing his small weight with ease.

"I said," Blue shouted, "What about Alicorns? The Princesses are Alicorns, and they make the sun and moon go up and down! Can you do that?"

"Parlor tricks!" Lexicon dismissed. "What good is power if it is not used? I have found that any sufficiently strong unicorn could make the sun go up and down! What makes an Alicorn special?" Lexicon clenched a claw with ease. "This, this is the greatest form. I retain the powers of a unicorn, amplified by the power of science andarcane secrets ofmagic! I remain aloft, with the harvested magic of pegasi! And I wield a complete arsenal of weapons, draconic and human alike! I wear the finest, most impenetrable alloys known to mankind as skin, and use energy itself as a shield! How can you expect to win?"

"One panel at a time," I declared, stepping forward, before realizing I'd missed something. "Asshole," I added.

Lexicon just laughed.

"You? Please, stop. I’m still working out interface kinks,you'll make me flame with laughter."

"I killed Jeeves easily enough, didn't I?"

"That would be cause for alarm," Lexicon admitted, "If he hadn't been given orders to let you win. He was just a distraction, a timewaster." The dragon lifted off, circling the courtyard. "Now I have moved to this form, nothing can stop me. Not humans, not ponies, not planes, not magic! I'll admit, you've all managed to set back my plans by several months, and cost me millions of dollars, but you haven't actually stopped anything. I'll just go do my work elsewhere, where you can't bother me any more!"

The dragon stopped circling, and soared West, titanic wings flapping slowly and bearing him aloft. With a sharp turn, he swooped around, and his mouth opened.

"Jesus titty fucking christ," the Sergeant muttered, squinting against the afternoon sun. “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

"Get down!" Snow shouted, his pegasus' eyesight picking the real threat out, and pulling Gold and Glitter with him as he dived for cover behind a pile of old steel.

Everyone ran for it; those who had access to a building used that, others hid behind girders and cars. Duke and I ducked behind the pile of steel with our family, and watched the oncoming assault. With a screech of steel, Lexicon was upon us, and something split the air, blinding anypony who was looking with light.

A titanic beam of light ripped through the center of the courtyard; we felt the heat, even from here. The poor souls unfortunate enough to be the victims probably didn’t have time to feel it before they were blown to dust.

All this happened at a speed that created a draft strong enough to tip one of the nearby patrol cars over; Lexicon soared up into the sky, and I watched as small metal spheres filled the air in his wake. Such very pretty little metal spheres, kinda like ball bearings. They looked like the sort of thing that would - oh.

Duke reached up and pulled my head down as the bomblets went off; the explosions seemed to be part calculated, part random chain reaction, and all mayhem, pops of light vaporizing large chunks of anything they got close to. All we could do was duck and cover, and pray our flanks weren't vaporized.

What felt like an eternity later, we dared to lift our heads up, and we saw mayhem. Everywhere, small fist-sized craters had been gouged out of the ground and terrain; one or two tardy ponies and humans had been caught by the bomblets, and were missing fist-sized chunks of flesh for their trouble.

"Jesus," the Sergeant breathed from his nearby cover, a pile of crates. From the pale look on his face, he’d been thinking about using one of the cars as cover. I looked at the overturned, burning wreckage. Thank god for small mercies, indeed.

"Marblebombs," Snow muttered, examining our choice of cover, which now sported holes like cheese in it. "Nasty things. I didn't know they made it past testing."

"You know these things?" Ricketts asked, getting up; he’d ducked behind the crates, too, although his close brush with death didn’t seem to have sunk in quite yet.

"Know them?" Snow shook his head. "I made the circuitboards for them and programmed the things, regrettably. A nasty day's work."

"Lexicon's getting away!" Duke interrupted, "Can't we give chase?"

"Rides are all toast," the Sergeant said, gesturing at the closest example, which had a large hole gouged through the bonnet and part of the engine block. "We aren't going after him in a car, and on foot would be too slow."

The sound of running hooves filled the air, and we looked around to see Chocolate Cake and Illuminating Shield running towards us.

"What the- how did you two get free?" the Sergeant asked, flummoxed.

"The officer in charge got hit," Shield shook his head. "We took it upon ourselves to free us and tell ourselves to assist."

"... Somehow," Gold muttered, "I doubt that would hold up in a court of law."

A flutter of wings heralded the arrival of Chord Thorn, who landed with a rush, and caught his breath.

"So," Thorn said, "How do we slay the dragon?"

"There's no 'we' about it," the police Sergeant said. "You civilians will stay right here - you two will sit here and await arrest - and we'll get the national guard on it or something."

Thorn snorted. "Right, good one. I'll go get my airship... if Lexicon’s goons didn't burn it down when they bagged me.” He jerked a head at the warehouse, and took off, hovering in the air. “I'm sure I've got a staff of dragonslaying somewhere on there."

"Tell me you're kidding," I said, to a completely serious look from Thorn. "Please."

"Do not doubt my ability to hoard supernatural trinkets, Dice!"

"More like I doubt that anyone, human or pony, would make a weapon named the 'Staff of Dragonslaying'."

“You’d be surprised what you find in ruins,” Thorn shouted, shooting into the sky. “I’ll be back!”

We watched the scarred pegasus fly off into the sky, and wondered if it really would be that easy, a staff of dragonslaying.

"I doubt it,” Ricketts said, guessing what we were all thinking. “What are the odds, right?”

“This is still shaping up to be like one of my Japanese videogames,” Duke grumbled. “I swear, if I have to wear belts and buckles...”

“What sort of games do you even play?” Gold Flake asked, curious. “Because that sounds a little saucy for just a videogame.”

“Japan,” Duke explained. “They come up with weird stuff.”

“I’m sick of this!” I kicked a bit of rubble irritably. "Lexicon's gonna get away!"

The sounds of a functioning engine filled the air, and with a splintering crash of metal, a large furniture moving truck barreled through a pair of nearby gates to the compound. It screeched to a halt, and as the dust cleared, we were all treated to a prime view of a certain logo.

“Buttershod Toilet Emporium?” the Sergeant asked, scratching his head in bemusement. The window rolled down, and a familiar teal mare poked her head out.

“Going dragon hunting,” she grinned. “Who wants to come with?”

“That’s us,” Shield said, hopping up onto the back of the truck and into the cargo area. The Sergeant looked upset.

“Hey!” He protested. “That’s aiding and abetting wanted fugitives!”

“I’m in,” I declared, hopping up into the truck, to protests; mostly from my family.

“You can’t go!” Gold Flake insisted. “You’ll get hurt!”

“Don’t do it!” Glitter added.

“I’d tell you to stop,” the Sergeant sighed, “But I seriously doubt you’ll listen to me, so whatever.”

“What happened to civic responsibility?” Duke asked, snidely. “Protect and serve?”

“You know what?” The sergeant threw his arms up in the air. “Fuck this. Seriously, fuck this. It’s beyond my pay grade. Do whatever you like, just don’t come crawling back to me when you get beat up or dead.”

“What’s his problem?” Ironshod asked, watching the angry policeman storm off. Ricketts shrugged.

“Ain’t nobody been listening to him, I guess,” he said. “Ol’ Sarge is partial to being listened to.”

“Eh.” Duke clambered up onto the truck with us. “I’m going too.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” Gold said. “I might let one Duke get on that truck, but not both of you!”

“Come on, mum,” I appealed. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! When else am I going to get the chance to be a hero and slay the dragon?”

“Do you both need to get on that truck, though?”

“Hey,” Duke jabbed a thumb into his own chest. “I’m not gonna let Dice steal all the credit. I want to steal some credit, too.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Snow looked us in the eye. “Both of you. I have two sons going into this mess, I want two sons walking out, got it?”

I didn’t miss the implication, and nodded firmly. Shield looked between us and our family, and decided the moment was sufficiently over; with a bang of his hoof on the back of the truck, the vehicle began to move.

Duke gave our family a small wave, and with a revving of the engine, the truck swerved through the wreckage of the gate, and we were gone. I sighed, and looked at Shield.

“Alright, now - how do we kill the dragon, again?”

Shield opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t think we actually thought this out, did we?”

“I did the thinking for you,” Ironshod’s voice crackled over a small radio in the corner, sitting on top of a metal crate. “Typical stallions. Why do you think I took so long? Look in the crate.”

We obliged, Duke handling the actual opening with his hands, and we looked inside. What sat inside, nestled in a bed of foam, was easily the coolest thing we’d ever seen.

“Aw yeah,” Duke grinned.

“Now we’re cooking with gas,” I agreed.

“I don’t know what that is,” Shield confessed. “But judging by how you two are reacting, I’m guessing it’s powerful.”

Chocolate Cake just made a noncommital grunt, and we looked at him. He looked back, and shrugged.

“What? It’s just a surface-to-air rocket launcher.”

======

The truck’s engine briefly over-revved as it cleared the lip of the on-ramp, and skidded slightly as Ironshod turned onto the motorway; high in the sky, we could see Lexicon flying forward, taking his time.

“Right,” Dice said, “All we need to do is get a good line of sight, and work out how to use this damn thing!”

I hefted the weapon; Of the four of us, I was the only one capable of actually using the weapon, much to Shield’s disappointment. He seemed a little miffed that a human was necessary to win the day.

“That’s a great plan, Dice,” I snarked. “Tactical genius.”

“And where did I go wrong, pray tell?”

“Try the bit where I get line-of-sight,” I pointed at the walls and roof of the truck. “These are gonna be in the way, unless Ironshod gets creative.”

“I think I can help with that,” Cake volunteered. “I’ll fly Duke up to the roof, he can shoot from there.”

“I wanna see this too,” Dice complained.

“Is this really the time?” Shield asked, incredulous. “This is serious business, and you’re worried about getting prime seats?”

“Hey,” Dice drew a hoof sideways in the air. “If I don’t witness this shit, Duke’s gonna go ahead and embellish that shit like nopony’s business. Make himself out to be like sixty percent more awesome than he really was. It’s what I’d do.”

“Come on,” I waggled my hips. “Less yack, more rocket-propelled devastation.”

Cake rolled his eyes, and obliged; with a grunt, we took off, and I realized just how fucking stupid this idea really was when we flapped out over the edge of the truck, and began to rise slowly. I clutched the rocket launcher tighter.

“Ooohohooo, this was a bad idea,” I moaned.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” Cake gasped, flapping hard to maintain momentum and not fall behind the truck.

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m afraid of falling to the road and suffering grievous bodily harm.”

“Well, stop moving and I won’t drop you.”

“I’m not moving!”

“Oh, that’ll be my hooves, then.”

I wanted to kiss the ground when my feet touched the roof of the truck’s boxy cargo area, but decided otherwise for the sole reason of saving face in front of Cake, who was catching his breath.

“So,” I said, “You’re not at all excited about this?” I asked, hefting the rocket launcher.

“Nope,” Cake maintained, shaking his head.

“Not even a little? It shoots explosions!”

“I’d rather not.”

“Man,” I shook my head. “No bloody wonder. Ladies got no time for men who can’t handle explosions.”

“That’s ridiculous, and you know it,” Cake said, catching what I didn’t say.

“A century of action films beg to differ,” I shrugged.

Any further discourse was cut off by a strangled scream, and a whack of hooves on metal as Dice fell out of the sky; his shell-shocked expression implied that he was probably a scrabble away from shitting himself.

“Jesus, Dice,” I swore. “What the hell, you try to fly?”

“Shield threw me!” Dice spluttered, shaking as he got to his hooves. “Grabbed me by my mane, pitched my ass up here like a pitching thing!”

I laughed, and got down on one knee to stabilize myself. “Okay, so how do I use this thing?”

“Bloody men,” Ironshod grunted over my headset, “Never read the goddamn manual. Flip that viewfinder open, toggle the covered switch.”

I obliged, finding a transclucent rectangle and the indicated switch. “Got it, now what?”

“Point, wait for the tone, shoot. It’s a rocket launcher, not rocket science.”

“Wow,” Dice said, regaining a little of his nerve. “I never knew it was that easy to waste, what, twenty large per missile?”

“Thirty. But who’s counting? Shoot already!”

I laughed, and got Lexicon in my sights; almost immediately, I got a tone, even as I saw Lexicon’s head snap around to look at what I guessed was us.

“Oh, shit,” I said, and sent out a silent prayer.

Come on, I need this. Don’t fuck me over, lady luck.

I curled my finger, and finally got to cross something off the list of things I’d always wanted to do - use a rocket launcher.

I could go on about that beautiful shot, the way it spiraled ever so gently and left a trail of smoke as it ripped through the sky, my hair and still-worn suit fluttering dramatically in the wind.

But we all know that’d be just gilding the lily. And Dice would never let me live that down.

I fired the missile, and the launcher kicked against my shoulder hard as it streaked away; I had my fingers crossed - perhaps fortune was with us today, perhaps we would land a million-to-one chance and nail Lexicon in his one weak spot for massive damage.

It was like the universe saw my plight, viewed my history of luck, and threw salt and lemon juice on the cut that was my fortune.

A flare of green energy flickered to life around Lexicon in the distance, and Cake swore. “He’s got some sort of dome shield thing up; it blocked your shot.”

“Motherfucker!” I shouted to the wind. “Punk ass, cheating asshole!”

“Ah,” Cake warned. “Duke, I think he heard you. Ironshod! Prepare to dodge! Incoming!”

“Incoming?!” Dice exclaimed, before getting the gist and getting down low. It puzzled me for a moment, then I got it too.

Without a moment to spare - right on cue, Ironshod swerved the truck, narrowly avoiding a lance of blue light that immolated the side of the truck. If I’d been standing up, my fears would have come to pass right then and there, a red Pâté on the road. As it was, I squeaked across the roof, trying to hold the rocket launcher and stay steady at the same time.

Then, just when I thought it was all over...

“Hey,” Dice asked, “Do you feel a little tilt?”

I shot him a look. “No. But I think you’ve just jinxed us.”

The truck lurched horribly, and with a vicious jolt, began to scrape against the ground. I’ll tell you this much: when this starts happening to you, you quickly wish it wasn’t.

“Hold tight, boys!” Ironshod yelled. “Lexicon got one of our rear wheels!”

The truck began to list harder as Ironshod applied whatever was left of our brakes, and the truck began to slow. I clutched the rocket launcher close and held onto the edge of the roof with my free hand, giving silent thanks that I had fingers.

With a whap, Cake took to the air; if I had a third hand, I would have shot him the bird for skipping out on the problem like that.

“Pleasenosuddenflippleasenosuddenflip,” Dice chanted quietly as he clung to the roof like I was, only with two hooves physically hooked over the edge, and I silently echoed his sentiment.

The truck was sliding and screeching to a halt on the road, but it looked like it would take about ten seconds to come to a rest; and anything could happen in ten seconds.

It was a long, tense ten seconds.

======

My legs shook like jelly, and I landed heavily on the road.

“Sweet road!” I cried, rolling over and embracing it. “Never leave me! I’m never riding on top of a moving motor vehicle, ever again!”

Duke swore as he slipped, and dangled from the top edge of the truck by his free hand. “A little help? Someone?”

A glow of magic grabbed his arm, and he grunted in pain as he was lowered to the ground. Ironshod sat on the road nearby, horn glowing as she nursed her own broken leg.

“Thanks,” Duke nodded. Ironshod shook her head.

“Don’t mention it.”

Duke rolled his shoulder, and looked at the rocket launcher. “How do I reload this thing? Is there a button?”

“Missiles go in at the back,” Ironshod grunted. “One at a time.”

“Thank you,” he chirped, staggering into the back of the truck. I returned my attention to the bigger picture.

“Now what?” I asked. “Lexicon’s getting away. Again.”

Shield grunted, nursing bruises of his own that were being examined by Cake. “I think our part in this is over.”

“What’s that?” Ironshod nodded behind me, down the road, and I turned.

In the distance, there was a faint roar of a motor, and I squinted at the cause; a low, red object was rapidly growing larger.

“I hear an engine,” Duke shouted from inside the truck where he was presumably wrestling with the rocket launcher. “Sounds like Gary’s car. Is it Gary’s car?”

I frowned. “How the hell can you tell that? I’ve got bigger ears and I can barely hear it!”

“Your ears are facing the wrong way, newfoal,” Shield pointed out. “Point them forward.”

“What, like thi-”

VURRRRRRRRRUUUUUUM

“Ow!” My ears flicked back around to the sides. “Yeah, okay, I hear it now.”

The car screeched to a halt, and sure enough, Gary was sitting in the driver’s seat, and M was in the passenger’s seat. Gary pushed sunglasses up and looked at us sitting next to the wrecked truck at the end of a sizable gouge in the blacktop.

“Well, if this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” Gary said. “What’s going on, Dice?”

“Hey, Gary!” Duke called out, waving from the back of the truck. M sat up when she saw him.

“So, Dice, Duke,” she began, “I... think I’m going to want to hear just how this happened. For starters, why are you wearing a suit and carrying a rocket launcher, Duke?”

“I know, right?” Duke hefted the weapon eagerly. “It’s radical! I even got to shoot it! No damage, though, didn’t make it through Lexicon’s shields.”

“Wait, who?” Gary asked, perplexed.

“You should probably start from the beginning,” Ironshod suggested.

======

“Right, so,” Gary steepled his hands, and pointed them at Ironshod, Shield and Cake. “You three are PER.” He pointed them at me and Dice. “You two somehow got mixed into stopping a cyborg who wanted to turn ponies into robots.”

He pointed at the speck in the sky that was Lexicon. “That’s the cyborg, who is now a dragon, and he runs the homewares store that we visited the other day. Tell me where I’m missing something.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s the long and short of it, yeah.”

“And now,” Gary continued, “If we don’t find a way to shoot that asshole down, he’s just going to go and make his machine army somewhere else.”

“It makes perfect sense,” M dismissed, briefly unfolding an arm from where she was standing, just off to the side. “I mean, it’s all highly improbable and smells like someone upstairs is pulling strings, but given Duke’s past fortunes, I think this is pretty much par for the course.”

“Excessive luck, or total lack thereof?” I asked.

“I’m thinking you’re just bouncing from one end of the luck spectrum to the other like a ping-pong ball right now,” M waved a hand. “I mean, all we need now is a Human Liberation Front member in our midst, and we’ve got a full house and a recipe for awkward.”

“Then we have a full house,” Illuminating Shield muttered. Gary jumped up.

“You mean, you know one of us is a HLF member?” He exclaimed.

“One of us is a HLF member?” Dice, Cake and I all said, simultaneously. M just looked stunned. Shield sneered.

“Yes, Duke. One of your friends is secretly a Human Liberation Front member,” he accused, gesturing widely at M and Gary. “One of these humans wants nothing more than to see Equestrians laid low at the hands of humanity!”

“I- I don’t- this is ridiculous!” Gary protested. “I would think one of us would know if we were a HLF member, right, M?” He nudged M with an elbow, and got no response; M just stared at Shield, eyes slowly going wide with recognition.

“Yes,” Shield spat. “Remember me? Because I sure as hell remember you, Magdalene Eurydice Oswalds.” He jabbed a hoof at her, poking her in the gut. “Your buddies aren’t here to cut my wings off this time, Magdalene. Tell me why I shouldn’t throw you off this overpass right here and now.”

XIII - Endgame

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story set in the Conversion Bureau universe, by Silvertie

Chapter 13 - Endgame

“She’s your pen pal?!” Cake blurted out.

“She’s HLF?!” Ironshod exclaimed.

“You think she’s the HLF member?!” Gary joined in, adding his own alarmed shout to the mix.

“Your middle name’s Eurydice?” Duke asked M, who pursed her lips with an expression of “now’s not the time”.

“Hold up,” I said, holding my hooves up. “That... sounds absolutely ridiculous. Tell me he’s wrong, M.”

M looked down, and for once, seemed to be at a loss for words.

“M... please.”

“He’s not... entirely wrong.” M looked back up. “Illuminating Shield... I did know a pony by that name. He said he was in the Royal Guard, a pegasus. I wrote to him on a regular basis, a few years ago.”

“So you are HLF?” Duke pressed. “Did you really set up Shield?” M looked at Duke.

“What do you know of this?”

“He knows what I told him,” Shield said, levelly. “I waited at that train station for you, and while I was waiting, I got jumped by four HLF thugs. As they dragged me away, I saw you.” He jabbed a hoof at M again. “That very same jacket, too. Standing there, looking at your phone. Couldn’t resist, could you? Just had to see what you’d done and take some Luna-damned pleasure from it, didn’t you?”

M pushed the hoof aside angrily. “You think I did that? You think I set you up?”

“Think so?” Shield spat. “I know so! Go on, explain your way out of this one!”

I just looked between the two, and sidled over to Gary. “... do you think we should intervene?”

Gary looked torn. “Well, like... she might be HLF, Dice. What then?”

“Then we’ll deal with that. But she’s our friend, Gary. We don’t just hang friends out to dry.”

Gary sat back, leaning on the bonnet of his car. “I don’t want to get into this. Let’s hear what M’s got to say.”

“Oh, I see what the problem is,” M said, straightening up as she finished an argument with Shield. “You don’t know the whole story.”

“What more is there to know?” Shield retorted. “You sold me out! You betrayed my trust!”

“I was running late!” M shouted, overriding Shield. “That’s all! My game with Duke ran longer than I thought it would and I got there in time to see those men grab you!”

Shield’s wrath came to a cold halt. “What?”

“Duke,” M rounded on my human counterpart. “Tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“The game!” M waved a hand irritably. “I seriously doubt you’d have forgotten. Remember? That horrible drawn out thing with the Ravenor?”

“Oh yeah,” Duke nodded. “That one. I remember that. That went on for hours, we had to call it because... oh.”

“Oh what?” Cake asked.

“We called it early,” I recalled, “Because M said she was running hella late for an appointment.”

======

Magdalene ran as fast as she could, alternately cursing her lack of car and the price of bus fare. She was late. So very late. But if Shield was anything like he claimed to be, he might just forgive her.

She slowed from a sprint to a walk, and stopped next to the corner, smoothing out her hair. Then she realized the futility of “trying to look nice” when she was wearing a ratty old Swandri.

She pulled out her phone, and checked the time; she was only ten minutes late. No biggie, right? She hoped that Illuminating Shield wasn’t bored or anything.

The sounds of a scuffle came from around the corner. She lowered her phone slightly, and crept to the corner, curious.

“Grab it!” a voice yelled.

“Shit!” a second shouted. “It bit me!”

“Get your hands off me, human!” a third, deeper voice demanded. The sound of scraping was heard, and a snap.

“My leg!” voice number two lamented.

“Hit him with the prod!” voice number one commanded.

Magdalene stepped out from around the corner, and saw a peculiar sight. Four men stood around one white pegasus, menacing it; well, three men. The fourth was on the ground, clutching his leg. None of them were looking her way, but she saw the pegasus, and the pegasus saw her. The pegasus was wearing the armor of the Royal Guard. Could that be...?

A flash of light flared, and the pegasus screamed as he was hit with what looked like a supercharged cattle prod. Magdalene jumped back behind the corner, and looked to her phone. Three button presses and she was on the line.

“Hello, emergency services. How can I help?” a soothing voice asked.

“Hello,” Magdalene whispered hastily. “I need the police. I want to report a crime in progress.”

======

M finished talking, and I closed my slack jaw.

“M... you never talked about any of this!” I protested. “Why didn’t you?”

M looked at her feet. “Once I got word that they’d successfully rescued Shield, I... broke contact with him. I thought it would be best if we all just... forgot about it.”

“I never forgot,” Shield said, quietly. “Not for one moment. Why... why did you think it would be a good idea to break contact?”

M sniffed. “I didn’t want to... I thought I’d be a reminder of the day you... you...”

Dice cleared his throat. “M, I’ve never seen you make that many mistakes... but that was a mistake. You don’t get over stuff like trauma alone. You pulled back when you should have pressed on!”

“Magdalene,” Shield bowed his head. “If I’d known the truth, if I hadn’t instantly thought the worst of you... perhaps I would have tracked you down and we could have had this talk sooner.”

“I think we can all learn a lesson from this,” I said. “Don’t keep life-changing things a secret.”

“Ha ha, yeah,” Gary agreed, clearing his throat. “Now what?”

“Yeah,” Cake nodded. “Now what? I mean, bonding’s important, but we’ve got a robotic unicorn-dragon to go kill.”

“Well, the truck’s toast,” Ironshod grunted, nodding at the overturned vehicle. “Think that fancy car of yours can carry us all?”

“What?” Gary looked at his car. It was a red convertible - it breathed “speed” but with a very firm insistience on “two seats”. “I really don’t think-”

“What if we sat on laps and stuff?” Dice asked, raising a hoof.

“Dude,” Gary shook his head. “Seven people in a two-seat car is not happening. One seat, really, since nobody’s sharing seats with the driver.”

“What about the boot?” Shield asked, walking around to the rear of the vehicle. “I mean, it ain’t luxury, but nopony dies from riding in the boot.”

“Ah, no,” Gary shook his head. “It’s, uh, filled with junk.”

“Are you okay, Gary?” I asked, looking my friend in the eye. “You look flustered. Anxious.”

“What?” Gary snorted unconvincingly. “That’s- that’s ridiculous. I’m not hiding anything.”

“Never said you were...”

“Hey,” Ironshod pointed skywards. “Contact! Airship!”

We looked skywards, to see a curious sight. Imagine a pirate ship. Now, remove the mast and the rigging, and replace it with a giant zeppelin balloon, and you’ve got an idea of the vessel that was rapidly descending to our level. Two decks, one upper and one lower. A simple, wooden door led to a room underneath the helm on the upper deck, and the railing-enclosed lower deck had a handful of hatches in it. The helm itself sported not only a traditional, circular wheel, but an out-of-place-looking metal console, clearly of human build. And on the bow of the ship, a name-plate bolted to it.

“Valkyrie,” muttered Cake. “What a name. What twit names his airship that?”

“Ahoy!” a familiar voice shouted out. “It looks like you lot had fun!”

The ship finally lowered the deck to road level, hovering next to the overpass, and we saw a familiar, scarred pegasus standing at the helm, waving.

“I saw the explosions, figured that was you guys,” Thorn went on. “Looks like I was right!”

“Thorn!” Dice whooped. “Tell me you have a staff of dragon-slaying, please. The rocket launcher doesn’t work.”

“The rocket what-now?” Thorn asked, leaving the helm once the ship was steady. “Come on, you lot. All aboard who’s coming aboard!”

With a clank of wood and metal, a boarding plank was extended to hook over the lip of the edge of the overpass. The gathering moved up the plank swiftly, boarding the ship. M and Ironshod were second-to-last to board, the human supporting the pony, but of all people...

“Gary!” I yelled. “Stop lollygagging about and get on the airship! Adventure calls!”

“I... I can’t!” Gary grimaced, looking about. “I’m not sure this is a good idea!”

“Come on,” Dice encouraged. “Years from now, are you going to be able to say that you got on the boat and had an adventure?”

Gary’s face contorted in agony, before he decided. “Fine. Gimme a moment.” The human ran to his car, and over to the driver’s side, reaching under the steering wheel.

With a loud click, the boot was popped, and Gary ran around to it, grabbing a large duffel-bag; with a grunt, he lifted the heavy bag and slammed the boot shut, lugging the bag up the boarding plank. Once he set foot on deck, Thorn nodded in satisfaction, and pulled it up.

“What’s in the bag?” M asked Gary.

“Uh,” Gary rubbed his hair. “Stuff. Might be useful.”

The ship lurched as it began to rise, and banked about as Thorn spun the wheel.

“Beauty, isn’t she?” he yelled, clearly talking about the ship. “She’s been through a lot, but she still got it! Where to?”

“That way,” I pointed towards the sun. “Lexicon flew that way.”

“Righto,” Thorn spun the wheel some more, and with a lurch and a thump of engines belowdecks, the airship set off at a steady pace.

“Uh,” Ironshod raised her good leg, resting against the railing. “Thorn, was it? Lexicon has quite a nasty weapon stored in his head. A large laser, it’s what melted one of our wheels and carved that large gouge in the road back there.”

“Aaah,” Thorn nodded. “Wondered what did that. Still, Valkyrie can handle it. Been to Tartarus and back, barely got warm.”

“I doubt this wooden hunk of junk would take any sort of actual hit,” grunted Shield, kicking the deck.

“This wooden hunk of junk was my father’s,” Thorn said, levelly. “He died on this very deck, fighting a demon of darkness and decay alongside his friends. And before the Valkyrie was his...”

“It was his father’s ship?” Gary guessed.

“Ah, no,” Thorn admitted. “I think he said he stole it from a bunch of mercenaries the last time they tried getting fresh with Whitetail.”

“Oh.” Gary shrugged. “That’s fine, too, I guess.”

“Long story short,” Thorn continued, “I found it where it crashed, patched it up, and I’ve made a few upgrades of my own.”

“They’d better be amazing upgrades,” Cake said, flying off over the side briefly to look the ship over properly. “This thing doesn’t look like it’d take a cannonball.”

“Looks deceive,” Thorn countered. “I took a gryphon eyrie with just me, my sword and my ship. Don’t look like it, but that’s what I did.”

“Why were you fighting gryphons for?” Shield asked quickly. “For that matter, how the hell are you still alive to talk about it? Last I checked, you wipe out a gryphon eyrie, the King places a bounty on you so huge even a dragon would consider taking it.”

“Oathbreakers!” Thorn chirped. “Nobody wants ‘em. Not even the Gryphon King himself. Got paid handsome to go and show them just how lowly the King thinks of oathbreakers. So low, he sent a pony to do the job.”

“How tough are Gryphons?” I asked, curious.

“Very!” Thorn replied, leaning on the helm to look at me on the lower deck. “So don’t sweat it! As long as you’re on this ship, you’re in good hoo-”

A sound of ripping air and energy hit our eardrums, and we all cried out in surprise as a bright blue beam of energy slammed into the side of the ship, sending us all to the deck as it shuddered and shook.

“Lexicon!” cursed Ironshod. “He saw us coming!”

“Whoa!” Thorn got up, grabbing the helm and bringing us back on course. “That’s... that was a glancing hit! We’re fine, I’m sure!” He leaned over and checked a dial. “Yup. Totally fine!”

“How can you tell?” Dice asked, getting up.

“Well,” Thorn said. “The energy conversion barrier’s still standing, so we’re not dead. Make sense?”

“Energy conversion-” M frowned. “How in the seven hells did you get one of those? I’ve only heard about prototypes for those sorts of things existing!”

“What sorts of things?” Gary asked.

“Energy conversion barriers,” M explained, “They absorb energy exceeding given limits going into it, and turn it into whatever you want - usually kinetic energy.”

“I know,” Thorn chuckled. “It’s really quite neat. As to where I got it, I took it in exchange for actual payment when I intervened and crashed a HLF party which just happened to be taking place at a secluded research facility. Something about using the technology for the betterment of mankind or something.”

“So, what did you convert that beam into?” Shield asked.

“Kinetic energy,” Thorn snorted.

“The more you shoot it,” Dice mused, “The faster it goes...”

“Yeah,” Thorn nodded. “That’s the idea. Hold on!”

Everyone grabbed onto the railing or the deck as hard as they could, and Thorn punched a red button on the human-made console. With a lurch, the ship itself thrummed, and leapt forward -- to the casual observer, the change in momentum was negligible. But such theories were rapidly dispelled when you looked over the side and realized that the ship was starting to form a contrail, and the buildings below were blurs. A slight cone of energy played around the ship, maintaining the illusion that the ship wasn’t moving half as fast as it actually was. I closed my eyes and stopped looking over the edge; the contrast between the speed I was seeing and the one I was feeling was considerable, and I was starting to feel nauseous.

In the distance, a small dot that was Lexicon rapidly grew larger, until with a small meep of surprise from M, we were flying alongside the mechanical dragon, a development that seemed to surprise Lexicon as much as it did us.

“What is this?” Lexicon boomed. “You think to approach me in that little hot-air balloon of yours?”

“You’re not getting away, Lexicon!” I yelled, hefting the rocket launcher. “Say goodnigh-”

The nose of the launcher was pulled down by Dice hastily. “Duke! We’re way too close! The explosion’ll probably take us out, too! Remember the shields?”

“Oh, right,” I recalled the flash of green that had thwarted us prior. “Any ideas?”

“Shields?” M asked. “Just overload it with impacts. Can’t hold up forever.”

“How, exactly?” I shrugged. “I’m hardly packing rapid-fire heat here.”

“Yes,” Lexicon chimed in. “I’m curious as to how you think this is going to work.”

“That’ll be my cue,” Gary said, hefting his bag onto the deck with a thunk. Without waiting for any questions, he reached over and undid the zip.

“Gary!” M exclaimed. “What in the- why do you have so many guns?”

The bag was filled with small arms - rifles, shotguns, handguns and even a couple of SMGs. Most looked pretty well-used.

“That’s, uh,” Gary rubbed his chin. “Let’s not talk about that right now. Will it break his shield?”

“How cute,” Lexicon dismissed. “You’ll never penetrate my shields. You think your rinky-dink little airship is the only one with a shield like that? The more you shoot me, the more power I gain!”

“It’ll work,” M said, ignoring Lexicon. “Everyone, grab a gun, start shooting.”

I shrugged, and putting down the rocket launcher, picked up a gun -- a SMG. With difficulty, Dice joined me, cradling a rifle against his shoulder awkwardly with his hooves, his horn glowing, ready to pull the trigger. Ironshod was better off, holding a pair of SMGs with her own magic. Gary and M held their own rifles and took aim.

We started shooting. I’ll tell you this - loosing rounds by the dozen at a big target is satisfyingly fun. As expected, not one of our bullets got close, flares of green energy lighting up and stopping the bullets cold in the air. When our guns ran out of bullets, we either found a replacement magazine or ditched the gun altogether and grabbed a new one.

“Stop that,” laughed Lexicon. “That tickles! Let me show you a real gun.”

With a clunk, Lexicon’s back opened up, and shielded from view intermittently by his beating wings, a turret rose up, the barrel as long as I was tall, and took aim at us. It clicked, and an audible hum filled the air.

“Railgun!” Shield cursed, moving to grab M. “We’re just feeding his railgun! Stop!”

“Don’t stop!” M countered, pausing only to switch magazines. “We can take it!”

Lexicon’s wings thrust downwards, lightning flashed, and the sound of electro-magnets discharging split the air. The whole ship rocked wildly as the shields suddenly came alive in a nimbus of colors.

“We’re good!” Thorn reported. “Didn’t even tax us as much as the laser did!”

“So we’re in a stalemate, then?” Shield asked. “Neither of us can breach the other’s shields!”

M grinned. “We can’t break his shields. But we can break his converter.”

There was a brief pause in gunfire as everyone thought that through.

“There’s no chance of that happening,” Lexicon scoffed. “You don’t have a weapon strong enough. Nobody does.”

“But if you hammer the shields often enough, the converter slowly overheats,” M grinned. “Slow and hard hitting doesn’t work, but rapid strikes does.”

As one, we all grinned. For the first time, Lexicon seemed caught truly unawares. Gunfire resumed with a vengeance, and Lexicon made to bank away and run. Thorn spun his wheel, and pushed a lever; with a jump, the ship moved faster, keeping pace with Lexicon’s tail to pepper that with bullets.

Lexicon’s shields began to flicker and pulse erratically, and the railgun firing back at us did little to slow our assault, sparks of energy cascading all around us as he attempted to break our shields before we broke his. With a loud bang, Lexicon flinched, and dipped violently in the air as smoke began to seep out of the plates along his spine.

“Alright!” Thorn said, spinning the wheel and taking the airship above the fleeing cyberdragon.. “Who wants to play “ride the dragon”?”

“You’re not seriously advocating jumping onto the back of a dragon, are you?” Shield asked, incredulous. “Even if it is just a machine, that’s still stupid!”

“Why not?” Thorn shrugged. “I jumped on plenty of dragons, didn’t do me any harm.”

“Because it’s suicidal! No sane person would do it!”

I dropped my SMG to the deck, retrieving my rocket launcher and shouldering it as I made my way to the barrier and looked down at the metallic surface below. A coiled rope nearby had one end tied to the railing already, as if that was what it was made for. I shrugged my suit jacket off, and wrapped it around my hand.

“Good thing I’m not totally sane, then,” I said, grabbing the rope, wrapping it around my hand, and hurdling over the side.

======

“Duke!” I yelled. My human counterpart, still carrying the rocket launcher in one hand, and a bundle of clothing and rope in the other, hurdled the railing and vanished, the rope going taut.

“What the hell?!” M exclaimed, running over to the railing. “What does he think he’s doing?”

“I like it!” Thorn cheered.

There was a faint noise of running rope, and I ran over to the edge as well, watching. Below us, dangling by one arm, the other clutching the rocket launcher on his shoulder, Duke was descending rapidly towards Lexicon, rope playing out and the wind pushing him about, causing him to swing like a pendulum.

“You know,” Thorn said, nodding to three more coils of rope, “I’ve got fancy belaying thingys that you could use. Instead of a shirt. If you want to get down there and help.”

“Fancy belaying thingys,” Ironshod remarked, drily. “You sound like you know what you’re about.”

“I’m in,” M said quickly, running over to another rope. “Duke doesn’t know what he’s doing. He needs help.”

“If you’re going,” Gary sighed, “I guess I should, too. He bruises in a stiff wind, for chrissakes.”

“You humans are mad,” Shield said. “No wings, no horn and you’re still dead-set on jumping onto the back of a dragon at whatever altitude we are. You’ll have time to say your Celestia-damned prayers before you actually hit the ground!”

“Humanity in a nutshell,” I quipped, as my two friends grabbed ropes and made ready to descend. “That said, I’m going, too.”

“Oh, come on,” Cake said. “You’re a pony -- I had hoped that you’d be a little smarter than that.”

“I was born in Equestria,” Thorn said, “And if it was an actual organic dragon, I’d be down there in a flash.”

“Shut up, you don’t count. You were clearly dropped on your head at birth or something.”

“How’d you know?”

“Can’t just abandon Duke,” I shook my head, grabbing a rope. “Isn’t looking after kith and kin the Equestrian way? Duke’s my own flesh and blood, in more ways than one. Can’t let that twit get himself whomped.” I clambered over the edge, my hooves wrapped around the rope and the clamp that would slow me down without giving me burns. “Besides, I wanna kill the dragon, too.”

I pushed away from the side of the ship, and with a whizz of rope and my friends beside me, descended to my fate.

======

I hit the metal plates of Lexicon’s back hard, and stumbled a little as I threw the smoking jacket aside; the wind snatched it away, and I shivered in the thinner air. Lexicon’s head turned to look at me, incredulous.

“I can’t tell if you’re extremely brave,” Lexicon said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “or if you’re just stupid.”

I shrugged. “I want to soil myself, if that’s any help.”

“Stupid it is, then. Prepare to die.” With a loud whirring, panels opened up along Lexicon’s back, revealing a pair of minigun turrets; clearly for the express purpose of dealing with anything that found it’s way onto the cyber-dragon’s back.

Like me. I lamented my weakness to hot lead, as the barrels began to spin up, and raised the rocket launcher. Lexicon smiled.

“My armor will stop that missile easily. And you’re far too close for the rocket to arm.”

“What?” I looked at the weapon, then back at Lexicon. “You’re bluffing. It’s a rocket launcher.”

“Yes,” Lexicon rolled a digital eye. “And because it’s a rocket launcher, it takes a few seconds to arm, to stop nimrods from blowing themselves up.”

“Well, that’s dumb.”

“I agree. It means you’d kill yourself and save me some trouble.”

I drummed my fingers on the rocket launcher for a moment, trying to work out how much of a backhanded compliment that was. As I did, I heard the buzz of rope, and the sound of feet and hooves touching down behind me. I turned around, and saw M, Gary and Dice standing there, smiling, the ropes they’d used dangling just above head height.

“Oh, hey. Did you come to see the show?” I asked.

“More like we came to help,” M snorted.

“I’m hurt by your lack of faith in my ability to kick oversized boss ass.”

“You’ve never won a fight in your life,” Gary laughed.

“This is a good time to start my career of slaying oversized monstrosities,” I countered.

“Enough!” Lexicon boomed. “Honestly. Watching you meatbags argue and bicker is annoying! You die now!”

The barrels on the miniguns, now spinning at full speed, adjusted aim to our party. M swallowed uneasily.

“I think I was a little hasty,” she admitted.

“We’ve made an error of judgement,” agreed Gary.

Dice just stood there, teeth gritted. I looked to the guns, then stared Lexicon in the eye, raising the rocket launcher.

“This rocket, your stupid mouth,” I nominated, pointing.

“Good luck with that.”

The guns started firing, and rapid-fire-death sought us out.

XIV - The Dog Has His Day

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story set in the Conversion Bureau universe, by Silvertie

Chapter 14 - The Dog Has His Day

When you’re about to die, everything snaps into perspective. You wonder if there’s things you could have done better, realize trivial things for what they were and often kick yourself for important things that suddenly seem obvious. The higher the chance of death, the snappier it is.

We were almost certainly going to die, and I realized that I’d wasted my life. Next to me, Gary and M huddled together, eyes shut. Behind me, Dice was muttering a quiet prayer.

Bullets began to leave the barrels -- I didn’t even hear the gunshots. They flew towards us, each one carrying enough power to cut us in half, and-

Thwip

I flinched as a round nicked my ear, and had just enough time to be upset that it didn’t hit me in the head properly, because with my luck, the next one would hit me in the groin and not kill me.

Zing Zwot Thwip

More bullets, passing by me without a pause; Lexicon was an awful shot, it seemed.

“What the hell?” Gary asked, quietly. I looked around, and saw what I hadn’t noticed before. A translucent dome of light surrounded us; the contrails of bullets were clearly visible as they hit the dome, and suddenly banked hard to avoid hitting any of us.

The dome was blue. I looked down, and saw Dice; his teeth gritted, beads of sweat were rolling down his head as his eyes darted all over, bullets deviating from their paths and avoiding us.

“Holy shit, Dice,” I exclaimed. “When did you learn to do that?!”

“I didn’t!” Dice grunted, “I don’t know how I’m doing it!”

“So the unicorn can deflect bullets,” Lexicon snorted. “That is just peachy. You can’t do it forever. Your luck will run out eventually.”

“Luck...” I looked at Dice. “Hey, can you do this thing on the turrets themselves?”

“Oh, you make it sound so easy,” he snarked, taking a wobbly step forward. He closed his eyes, and frowned harder - the dome of light moved forward, and we stayed inside it, ducking low to avoid the bullets.

We walked along the spine of the mechanical dragon, our footsteps echoing on the steel beneath the sounds of gunfire and the rushing wind. Lexicon seemed to get more and more upset with our progress with every second that passed without us dying, yelling at us and lamenting why his weapons were so ineffective against us.

We got to the middle of Lexicon’s back, between the beating wings of steel to either side of us, and Dice halted. We stopped with him, hunkered down low.

“What now?” Gary asked.

“The turrets roll on the mishap table,” I guessed, as Dice’s horn gained a second layer of overglow, and the turrets responded in kind.

The first turret made an awkward clicking sound and the sound of grinding gears was heard -- a bullet contrived to jam itself in the mechanism. The other turret reacted in a more spectacular manner, and simply exploded, ammunition detonating and sending shrapnel everywhere.

“Lucifer’s beard!” Lexicon cursed, looking at his broken turrets and us, as Dice finally let out a breath and sank to the ground. “I don’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” I shot back. “Dice, that was the coolest thing ever.”

“Tell me... about it,” the unicorn gasped. “Never... doing... that... again.”

“Holy hell,” Gary gasped. “I guess you were right. A lifetime of shitty luck for impossible luck when you need it.”

“I think I need to change my pants,” M confessed.

“You can stop bullets,” Lexicon snorted. “Stop gravity.”

With a beat of wings, Lexicon did what we were all hoping he wouldn’t -- he did a barrel roll. A slow, languid affair, his torso turned, and with it, we lost our footing; in the blink of an eye, we were standing on a smooth surface at a sixty degree angle; but even then, we were moving.

I grabbed Dice, whose hooves had no purchase on the armor plates, and threw him ahead of me, to land on Lexicon’s side. Gary and M ran with him, pushing against the edges of plates to find purchase and leap over Lexicon’s rotating torso. I leapt for a handhold, and found one... sort of.

I won’t sugar-coat it. I hung onto the edge of an armor plate with one hand, rocket launcher in the other, and screamed like a little girl.

======

Duke screamed like a little girl, and part of me wanted to snigger. That definitely qualified as a bit of a dick move, though, and I decided to better use my talents by grabbing Duke's shoulders with magic and pulling.

With him pulling himself up as well, he fairly flew into the air, falling down onto a level armor plate, landing by pure chance on both feet. Satisfied that he was safe, I turned my attention to my own predicament.

Being partial to life, I kept moving, running hard and feeling like my heart was going to burst as I struggled to keep pace with the barrel roll. We crossed Lexicon’s belly, jumping across exposed machinery as the barrel roll continued.

Lexicon righted himself, and by good fortune, we’d stayed on top of him, and we hunched over, catching our breath.

“Never... doing... this... again,” Gary gasped. “Fuck adventures.”

I looked behind me, hoping that Duke would claw his way over Lexicon’s side, swearing about how we’d left him for dead. Nothing moved.

"Wait," M looked as well, realizing a problem. "Where's Duke?"

"I thought he was behind us," I confessed.

"Aw shit," Gary puffed. "Duke!"

"I'm! Over! Here!" a voice yelled, faintly. We looked back in the direction we were facing, and looked over the side we'd fled over so recently.

Far below us, arms wrapped around Lexicon's mechanical leg, hugging it for dear life as it kicked back and forth to try and dislodge him.

"Stop gawking," he yelled, bobbing up and down, "and help me up!"

======

I clambered back onto Lexicon's back with difficulty. Not only was I performing physical exercise (not my forte), but Lexicon was doing his darndest to throw us off his back with thrashing motions. It was a miracle that none of us fell off.

Or perhaps it was Dice. The unicorn was sweating, and looked exhausted, eyes sunken and head bowed. His horn didn't falter, though, and a faint haze surrounded each of us.

"Dice," I said, regaining my footing. "Thanks for saving me back there."

"No problem," Dice grunted. "Flesh and blood."

There was a loud, grinding sound, and we looked to Lexicon's head. With a grinding of gears, Lexicon's neck was rotating entirely.

"That's not good," Gary guessed. "That is not good!"

Lexicon's reconfiguration completed, and his head looked down at us, as if we were on his belly.

"Your luck cannot last forever," he stated. "Give up now, and I will cyberize you, instead of killing you."

"Jog on,"

"How do you plan to kill us?" I taunted. "Dice broke your stupid guns!"

"There is an ancient chinese proverb," Lexicon stated, opening his mouth wide to reveal a complex array of nozzles and emitters. "If you want a job done right, do it yourself."

"Don't tell me he's gonna use that beam," Dice gasped. "I can't turn that aside!"

"He'd also vaporize part of his own back!" M muttered.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Lexicon asked, offended. "Of course I'd vaporize part of my own back if I used the Hadron Cannon! That's why I'm using the flamethrower."

"Oh, great," Dice snorted sarcastically. "Can't stop that, either. At least the cannon would have been quick and painless."

There was a revving of a fan deep within Lexicon's maw, and one tube began to gurgle, sounds echoing up the tube from deep within Lexicon. Fuel.

"Well, since we're going to die," Gary said, resignedly, "I've got a confession to make. I'm with the Human Liberation Front. Well, my dad is, and by proxy, so am I."

"What." M just looked at Gary. "You are shitting me."

"No joke," Gary said. "My old man's not a fan of ponies, and he expects his son to be the same. I think it's good that we're going to die, or he'd have me killed for helping a bunch of ponies and pony-lovers."

"Well," I said, dropping to one knee and readying the rocket launcher. "You're going to live, and if he wants to kill you, he'll have to go through me first." I flicked a switch, and the safety deactivated. "Duke Cooper, Dragonslayer."

"We're too close!" M protested. "The rocket won't have time to activate the homing mechanism!"

"Then we'll have to get lucky," I said, adjusting my aim to the pilot light in Lexicon's mouth. "You ready to use the force, Dice?"

Dice realized my intent, looked between me and the pipe from which death would seek us out, and grinned. "Hell yeah, motherfucker."

I wasted no more time, and pulled the trigger on the rocket launcher. With a click, the rocket in the tube was unleashed with a dull whump.

The first puffs of fuel and gas leapt out of Lexicon's mouth, orange flame blossoming and catching light.

The missile leapt towards it, encased with a blue light, and passed through the flames without hindrance. Spinning a tight corkscrew, the missile approached the tube from which the fuel was starting to spill out of, and with a sharp screech of steel, slipped into the tube, shaving off it's fins in the process.

Then the thruster activated, and the explosive forced itself down the tube. Lexicon's mechanical brow creased in confusion briefly, before-

Boom

A small explosion rocked our impromptu island, and the triumphant grin was wiped off my face as Lexicon merely stopped preparing his attack to look at us with "what the hell was that" written all over his face. A few wisps of smoke were coming out of his mouth, bit otherwise there was no apparent damage.

"Well, that was a bit shit," Gary muttered. "I thought the explosion'd be bigger."

Then, the fire that was burning away inside Lexicon's gullet got into his flamethrower's mixing chamber, with predictable results.

======

As a unicorn, flight is not something that comes naturally to me. Some flightless ponies even go to extraordinary lengths to achieve flight.

They're mad. Flying is essentially falling with style at great altitude, and falling is terrifying at any altitude. More so when you're high up enough to see the clouds below.

The ringing in my ears began to subside, and I got my bearings. My three human companions were "flying" alongside me. Well. Duke and M were, at any rate. Both were screaming inaudibly in terror, and rightly so.

It's not everyday a robotic dragon blows up underneath you. Metal had flown everywhere, as did we; in a flash of light, Lexicon was reduced to a pretty, flower-shaped cloud of dirty smoke and a rain of metal scrap that flew for miles in every direction, trailing fumes. For all his claims of invulnerability, it seemed that a simple internal detonation was enough to tear him to pieces.

The metal plates we were standing on had been our saving grace. Shielding us from the raw fury of the explosion, they acted like a catapult, and we were thrown high into the sky.

And here we were; so far above the earth, we could see it curve into the horizon, the city below us no more than a speck. Peaceful. You know, if we weren’t about to die horribly.

A large shape flashed by -- the Valkyrie. Like missiles, three shapes leapt off the deck, pursuing us down to the earth, racing gravity.

The first shape to reach us was a pegasus. A special one, as he didn't have a wing on his back, his neck craned forward as he accelerated his dive.

"Shield!" I shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving my girl," he grunted. "I'm a pegasus, but flying ain't all I can do!"

Like a white missile, he tucked his legs in and dived even faster, shooting past me to catch up with M. The pair collided and went into a tumble, the pair halting their spin with Shield on the bottom.

As we approached the cloud layer, I realized Shield’s game. He couldn’t fly. But he could still touch the clouds.

The pair hit cloud with a strange puff of clouds; it behaved like firm dirt in that it stopped their fall, and at the same time, it parted like water - slowly, slowing their fall to a speed that wouldn’t crush the two flat.

No such luck for the rest of us; we plunged through the clouds unimpeded, and the other two pegasi were revealed for who they were; Chocolate Cake and Chord Thorn.

“Get him first!” I pointed at Gary, who was still out cold, his face rippling in a way that would have been hilarious if we weren’t falling to our deaths. Cake grimaced, nodded, and banked away to grab my friend. With a whump, Cake pulled up and rapidly fell away.

“We got us a problem,” Thorn yelled over the wind. “There’s two of you, and only one o’ me.”

“Him,” Duke said, without hesitating. “Take Dice.”

“Fuck off,” I said. “Take Duke!”

“Why?!” Duke gesticulated, clothes flapping in the wind. “I’m just a clone! You’re the original! If the truth ever gets out, I’m dead anyway! At least give me the satisfaction of taking one for the team!”

I clenched my eyes shut, willing back the tears. I couldn’t find an argument to use against him, of the two of us... he was the logical choice. “Fine. You win, Duke.”

Thorn grabbed me under the shoulders, and Duke looked down, then back up, and gave me a small wave.

“Tell mum and dad I love ‘em.”

======

With a second whump, Thorn yanked Dice up into the sky, and I watched them go, and sighed. I rotated languidly in the air, looking at the ground far below.

All things considered, today was a good day to die, right?

I mulled it over, and thought about my last few days. Twenty-odd years of jack shit, and then a week of mayhem. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

I watched the building far below loom, and gritted my teeth. Today was not a good day to die. Today was a good day to die hard. If that guy from The Da Vinci Code could jump out of a helicopter without a parachute and not die, so could I. Right? If I did it, I’d be godlike, and nobody would ever trump me for exciting stories again!

Or I’d die trying. So really, no loss. I spread my arms and legs out, and with a whud, felt the increase in resistance and my fall slowed, giving me time to think. There was a distinct lack of convenient rivers to land in, much to my distress, and I saw the building below; a glass-roofed structure to let the sun in, and below that...

A glistening, rippling body of water. An indoor pool. I thought fast. Me. Glass. Water. I needed to hit that water to have any chance of surviving. Glass was a problem. Water might possibly give, although chances were it’d be more like concrete at this speed. Glass, however, would just flay the flesh from my bones and kill me.

I looked around for something that might possibly remove the obstacle for me. I spotted something large and heavy in the air, drifting towards me.

“Rocket launcher!” I whooped, grabbing the weapon, and fingers crossed, threw it downwards of me.

The heavy weapon surged ahead of me, the distance growing between us rapidly. The weapon blazed a vertical path, and as I began to see myself in the reflection of the glass on the building, the rocket launcher hit it.

With a spiderweb of cracks, the glass fractured and splintered, but did not give way; the resilent glass wobbled violently, but otherwise sent the destroyed rocket launcher flying away like a soccer ball off the goalposts. I winced, and abandoned my spread-eagled posture to go for a fist-first approach.

I approached the glass myself, and I saw a thousand copies of myself, all surging towards me, fist-first. I noted how I looked, and wondered how the hell in a million years that this had happened to me, of all people.

When you’re about to die, everything snaps into perspective.

I shut my eyes, and prepared for pain. Flesh, bone and sinew met glass, steel and carbide alloys. There was one winner.

Epilogue - Loose Ends

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story set in the Conversion Bureau universe, by Silvertie

Epilogue - Loose Ends

Dreams of falling, of glass, of guns, explosions and ponies.

I woke up from one nightmare, and into another, one of white tiles, sterile lights, and a chilly sensation in my left hand, which I raised to look at. A shunt - those things always creeped the hell out of me, and I did my best to remain still and not disturb it. Not hard when even the act of breathing was giving me hell, to say nothing of raising my arm.

“I’m clearly not dead,” I rasped, feeling my mouth with my tongue; quite a few missing teeth, it felt weird. “This is a hospital.”

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” a male voice said. I looked to my left, and saw a doctor standing there with a depleted syringe and a clipboard. “Please don’t move.”

“Did... you wake me up?” I asked, looking blearily at the shunt.

“Actually, no,” the doctor said. “That was a shot of antibiotics. I’ll fetch your friends and family, they’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Do you need anything?”

I shook my head slightly. “I’m good.”

“If he needs anything,” a familiar voice said from the other side of the bed, out of my view, “I’ll get it for him.”

“No you won’t,” the doctor said, flatly. “You’ll push the call button and get a nurse, you’re in no condition to do anything either, Mr. Roller.”

“Dice?” I grunted, trying to turn my head to look at my unicorn counterpart. I had to turn my head more than expected, my field of view vastly reduced by something over my eye.

“Hey Duke,” wheezed the unicorn. I finally got a good look at him. If I felt like shit, he looked like it. His eyes were little more than sunken cavities, bloodshot and crusted. His mane and coat were matted with dried sweat, and he was puffing like he’d run a marathon.

“You’ve got one hell of a brother,” the doctor remarked. “Dice here wouldn’t leave your side, insisting on using his magic to aid you from the moment the EMTs picked you up, through all your surgeries and even now.”

“Whoa, wait,” I closed my eyes. “Surgeries?”

“I’ll let Dice answer that,” the doctor said, the sound of his footsteps retreating to the door. “I’ll get your friends and family.”

The door clicked shut, and I looked at the unicorn next to me and my bed, sitting in a chair, smiling.

“That was really touch-and-go, there,” he said. “Nobody thought you’d make it.”

“What?” I pressed harder. “What happened to me?”

“Well, you fell to your death,” Dice shrugged. “Somehow, you managed to punch through a layer of reinforced glass, reducing your arm to a bloody bag of bone shards and destroying your eye, before almost crushing a little filly and her parent mid-swimming-therapy-session as you hit the water, breaking what the doctors said was like sixty percent of your bones. At which point, you floated face-down in the water, bled out for a bit and drowned. We finally landed, rushed in, and that’s when I started doing my magic.” Dice chuckled. “Scared the EMTs shitless when you were still clinging to life by the time they got there.” Dice took a breath. “The EMTs and other emergency wing staff had a pool running for what you’d actually succumb to first; popular bets were internal haemorrhaging, followed by brain damage caused by the trauma and drowning. None of them picked you to live more more than half a day, tops, even on the life support machines.”

“Well, proved them wrong, didn’t I?” I coughed, wincing violently as I blinked an eye that was bound by bandages, and tried to cover my mouth with an arm that was rigid thanks to a cast, and felt like a sack of nerve-laden mince. “How long’s it been?”

“About a week,” Dice said. “I kinda lost track, I haven’t slept. The doctors are all amazed with how you managed to cheat the odds and not die to all the things that you should have died to. Apparently you should be in life support right now.”

“Cheating the odds, huh?” I smiled weakly. “I guess I know who’s responsible for that.”

“Guilty,” he smiled. “Like I said, haven’t slept. Not a happy pony right now, but on the other hand, we’re gonna be rich.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know the betting pool?” Dice asked, and I blinked by way of nodding. “Yeah, well it got quite big. Mum and dad weren’t impressed when they found out, and asked for it to be taken down, but it persisted. I agreed to stay quiet about it if I got to make a bet.”

“You bet on me dying?” I frowned. “That’s shitty.”

“No,” Dice smiled. “I bet on you surviving, walking out of here in a month. Or being wheeled out in a wheelchair. Certainly not dying or dead. Guess who just cleaned up?”

“You clever bastard,” I smiled, and looked around. Everything in the room was white, apart from a slightly-wilted vase of flowers next to my table. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Vase of flowers,” Dice said, using his magic to float them over my bed so I could see. “Arrived a couple of days ago, came with a card. Felt I should refrain from opening the card until you woke up, it’s been killing me.”

“Go ahead,” I smiled. “Who’s it from?”

Dice was silent for a moment, and he laughed out loud. “Ha! It’s from Unibro and the guys! Here, I’ll read it.” Dice cleared his throat. “Dear Duke, if you ever get to read this, you are officially one robust motherfucker. I saw your chart online, and Hatless is pretty damn sure we’re sending flowers to a funeral. If you’re ever in Bay City and, you know, not dead, swing by the bureau; I wanna shake your hand. Much love, #potionhunters.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” I said. “I’ll take him up on it if I ever walk again.”

The door clicked, and opened, allowing a small herd of ponies to walk in, the doctor one of the few humans amidst their number.

“Duke!” Gold Leaf said, galloping over to the bed. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Tender,” I replied, looking around at my visitors. My parents and sister were here, as was M and Thorn. Amazingly, Cake and Shield were also present, genuine relief at seeing me etched all over their faces.

“I’m just glad you’re in one piece,” Snow said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. “That’s my boy.”

“All those years of bad luck,” M chuckled. “You’ve had it coming. A day in the sun. Natural twenties, all the way.”

“I guess those theories about karma are correct,” an unfamiliar voice said, “It does all balance out eventually.” I looked at the ponies, and spotted one face standing next to M that I didn’t recognize; a dark orange pegasus with a green mane.

“Uh, who are you?” I asked, before looking at M. “Don’t tell me you’re dating him.”

“What?” the pegasus flapped his wings agitatedly. “No! Duke! It’s me! G-A-R-Y.”

“Gary?!” I exclaimed.

“Shh!” The pegasus looked around, anxious. “Not so loud! I’m in witness protection now! Call me Orange Zest!”

I snickered. “Goes with your mane and coat.”

“‘s why I picked it,” “Zest” said darkly, implying that I hadn’t been the first to point it out.

“Why the identity change?” I asked.

“My dad,” Zest sighed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said he was HLF. Word is that he found out about how I helped you a couple of days back, flipped his shit. Luckily, by then, I’d already gone pony. With luck, he’ll never find me and tell me what he thinks of me.” Zest sighed. “Gary Soak is dead, died falling to his death off a dragon. Zest lives.”

“Got it... Zest,” I said, looking at the ponies. “What happened? I know I fell, got messed up and stuff. Anything else I should know about? What happened to Lexicon?”

“Lexicon is no longer a threat,” a mare’s voice stated. The crowd parted, to reveal a lavender unicorn carrying a clipboard, purple mane with a hot pink streak through it.

“Ambassador Sparkle!” gasped the doctor, before hastily bobbing a quick bow of respect. “I assume this is private business, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“It is,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

The doctor stepped out of the room, past Twilight, and shut the door behind him. The other ponies and M looked at her, and Glitter Flake asked what they were all thinking.

“Do we have to go as well?”

“No,” Twilight shook her head. “You’ve all been involved, it’s only fair that you hear this from me,” she said. Twilight looked at me. “So. You’re Duke Cooper. And you’re still human, which is odd. Didn’t you get the potion I sent you a few days before your accident? Did Rainbow Dash deliver it okay? Did it not work? It was from the vault, I was sure it would work, but...”

“Potion?” I frowned, then rememebered. “Oh! That! Yes! I got it!”

“You got potion from Twilight Sparkle?” Dice asked, stunned. “Where? When?”

“By mail,” I said. “Rainbow Dash dropped it off. A single autoinjector of potion.”

“Where is it?” Dice asked. “Wait, vault! That means it was an experimental formula! You have an experimental formula!?”

“Had,” I said. “It was in the back pocket of my pants.”

“Your- oh,” Duke nodded slowly in understanding. “So that’s how the thin glass shards got in your ass.”

“You lost it, huh?” Twilight asked, and I nodded slowly, ashamed. She sighed.

“Well, that was the last of it’s kind,” she said. “Apart from the last dose, which nopony’s allowed to touch. If you want to get ponified, you’ll have to do it the normal way.”

I nodded in shame. “Yes, Twilight.”

Twilight shook her head, and smiled. “Anyway. I owe you a debt of gratitude, in a sense.”

“A debt?” I asked. “For what?”

“For putting Lexicon to rest,” she sighed. “Lexicon used to be one of the developers of the serum, alongside myself; volunteered to be one of the first test subjects, even. It didn’t take quite so well, and it gave him a broken body.” Twilight clicked her tongue. “Broke his mind, too, it seems. Or perhaps that was later. As evil as he might have become, once upon a time, he was a good soul, and we were friends. Friendship never truly dies, after all.”

“I’m guessing we broke him pretty good, then,” I said.

“Yes,” Twilight nodded. “I never would have thought it, but you did manage to destroy pretty much all of him and his infernal machine with that explosion. How you four survived is beyond me, and how you did it with one missile is also amazing; I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s simply because humans are truly astounding creatures, always full of surprises. It’s a shame you can’t survive in Equestria.”

“It’s not the form,” M pointed out, looking at Shield, who looked back, smiling. “It’s the soul inside it that makes the person.”

“True.” Twilight nodded. “I’ve always liked how humans are so persistent and creative. Anyway. Lexicon’s body was destroyed, and we’ve found no trace of his brain, so we’re assuming he was vaporized. With the destruction of his brain, Lexicon’s truly dead; unlike yourself, no amount of luck would get him out of it.”

“Unless he was running that body through a proxy,” I guessed, but Twilight shook her head.

“There was magic involved, that machine was relying pretty heavily on it. He had to be there, you can’t transmit magic through a proxy.”

“Well,” I sighed, wincing as a rib shifted. “What now?”

“Now?” Twilight grimaced. “You lie there and recover, while I arrest Illuminating Shield and Chocolate Cake.”

“What?!” everyone said, simultaneously.

“Illuminating Shield and Chocolate Cake are wanted by the Crown of Equestria and six different human governments for their involvement in the Ponification for the Earth’s Rebirth terrorist organization,” Twilight said, reciting the charges from memory. “I know they helped in bringing Lexicon to justice, and so I’ve given them a few day’s grace to “escape” my attention, but...”

“They stuck around for me, to be here for me when I woke up,” I protested. “Right?”

“Uh, actually,” Shield said, “I’m only hanging around because Magdalene w- oof!” A chocolate-brown elbow jabbed Shield in the ribs, and he backtracked. “I mean, yeah, that’s right.”

“See?” I gestured. “That’s true friendship.”

Twilight frowned. “As much as I’d like friendship to be an excuse to pardon the crimes they’ve committed, I can’t take it. They’ll get a softer sentence, given the circumstances, but...”

The door to the room crashed open, kicked by a sturdy hoof. On the other side, a teal unicorn stood with a gasmask strapped to her face; a steel-grey mane poked out from under it, and a bandaged leg was held off the ground slightly as a tubular weapon was brandished. A pair of eyes glittered behind the gasmask’s lenses, and I held my breath.

Without a word, the mare fired the weapon at Twilight, who screamed and crushed the projectile with her magic as she stopped it; as she did, the gas and smoke in the grenade rushed out, blinding her and those next to her.

The room was rapidly filled with smoke, and panic reigned. In the midst of all the mayhem, I heard three words: “One day, Magdalene.”

The sound of running hooves filled the air, and the smoke began to clear; screaming outside in the hallways heralded their escape, and the room cleared to show we were two pegasi short. Twilight looked around, and sighed, smiling.

“Oh no,” she said, unconvincingly. “They’ve escaped my clutches, what a bother. I suppose I had better go catch them.” Twilight walked over to the door slowly, and looked back at me. “I hope you get better soon, Duke Cooper. Thank you, once again, for putting Lexicon to rest. From me, Null Point, and Carpenter.”

“My pleasure?” I hazarded. It seemed to fly, and Twilight nodded, before setting off in (very slow) pursuit of the two PER ponies. I briefly wondered where they’d run to from here, and if I’d see them again. Judging from the look in M’s eyes... if I hung around her, I probably would.

Everyone relaxed, a little coughing still going on, and I sagged a little in my bed, listening to the soft beep of my heartbeat monitor.

“So,” I said brightly, breaking the silence. “Did I tell you guys about that time I killed a cyberdragon?”

======

Six days ago

Plumes of smoke still filled the air, high in the sky, marking the path of hundreds of pieces of debris from the broken machine dragon.

One plume was longer than the rest, because it wasn’t a piece of rubble.

It was an escape pod. Barely bigger than a backpack, it had it’s own rocket thrusters, and sitting in the top like a warhead, a dome of fluid, containing a small, wrinkled thing covered in wires. Lexicon.

The escape pod screamed down towards suburbia, and with a wham, hit the dirt in a once-pristine-now-abandoned home’s front yard, not far from a tree. Smoking and pinging away as it cooled, it stayed there for a time, as the dome went from the opaque it had gone when the internal gel absorbed the impact, to the translucent it would go when it finally decided it was safe to move. When it did, the pod hissed like something out of a sci-fi alien invasion movie, and the pod separated.

To one side, the rocket engine fell. To the other, the jar rolled, righting itself with spindly little legs. A vocalizer clicked, and the brain sighed.

“Fuck.”

[That is not appropriate language,] a voice chided. The brain’s dome turned to see a humanoid shape standing under a tree. Two red lights glared at the brain from under a wide-brimmed hat, the wearer concealed by a long, brown duster and clutching a small holoprojector in his gloved hand. But he was not the speaker, no. Lexicon knew his type, they didn’t speak.

The holographic eyeball being emitted by the holoprojector, on the other hand... it stared back at the jar-brain, flickering as the feed was disrupted ever so slightly by static.

“I think it’s appropriate,” Lexicon sighed. “The Ascension Project is in ruins, it’ll take years to recover. If ever. My cover’s blown. Infrastructure’s flattened.”

[We know,] the eyeball said. [What data did you save?]

“Everything,” Lexicon said. “It’s all backed up on one of the drop servers, number six-one-six.”

[Good,] the eyeball said. Lexicon went on.

“It’s not the data that’s the problem, or even the subjects or resources. It’s just a matter of building up the infrastructure once more...”

[The syndicate is not interested in your excuses, Lexicon,] the eyeball said. [It is only interested in whether you are useful any more.]

“No...!” Lexicon’s brain pod started moving as swiftly as it could, running for the gate. With two lopes, the messenger picked up the brain jar with a free hand, holding it up to the eyeball.

[The syndicate has decreed that you are no longer useful,] the eyeball said. [As such, you are hereby ordered to self-terminate.]

“You bastard!” Lexicon’s vocalizer spat. “Fuck you, fuck the horse you rode in on! I am not going to self-terminate! The syndicate wants me dead, the least they can do is have the decency to do it themselves!”

[I will remind you that your cortical processor is still bound by The Laws,] the eyeball said. [This is a direct order from the syndicate. This order overrides the third law of self-preservation. By disobeying this order, you are opposing the syndicate. Do make myself clear?]

“Hnngh,” Lexicon grunted, his brain shuddering in it’s jar. The vocalizer suddenly began to emit a horrible, ear-rattling screech, and the brain jerked violently; the slightly green nutriment gel it lived in suddenly began to fill with clouds of red that flowed out of the now inert brain. The vocalizer clicked, and went silent, and the lights at the base of the jar flickered out.

The messenger dropped the jar, and reached into a pocket, pulling out a small, square charge with a console. A button was pressed, and the parcel began to beep softly. The courier didn’t move, watching the jar, as the explosion blossomed. What was left of the tree groaned and collapsed over the crater where once a brain in a jar and a robot had once stood.

High above, a satellite watched the tree burn and crumble, and an eyeball nodded to itself in satisfaction.

All the loose ends were tied up. Lexicon was a valuable asset, and his data was revolutionary, but the Syndicate’s goals came first, and Lexicon’s time was up.

The eyeball looked at a monitor, seeing the data that Lexicon had saved; true to his word, it was every last bit of the data they’d wanted.

Everything was running according to schedule. Equestria would fall, and man would take his place as the dominant power of both worlds.

Mark his words.

Alternate Ending - Going Pony

The Conversion Bureau - Mirror Match

A story set in the Conversion Bureau universe, by Silvertie

Chapter 14-b - Going Pony

This ending varies from the “official” one, starting at this point.

======

As a unicorn, flight is not something that comes naturally to me. Some flightless ponies even go to extraordinary lengths to achieve flight.

They're mad. Flying is essentially falling with style at great altitude, and falling is terrifying at any altitude. More so when you're high up enough to see the clouds below.

The metal plates we were standing on had been our saving grace. Shielding us from the raw fury of the explosion, they acted like a catapult, and we were thrown high into the sky.

And here we were; so far above the earth, we could see it curve into the horizon, the city below us no more than a speck. Peaceful. You know, if we weren’t about to die horribly.

A large shape flashed by -- the Valkyrie. Like missiles, three shapes leapt off the deck, pursuing us down to the earth, racing gravity.

The first shape to reach us was a pegasus. A special one, as he didn't have a wing on his back, his neck craned forward as he accelerated his dive.

"Shield!" I shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving my girl," he grunted. "I'm a pegasus, but flying ain't all I can do!"

As we approached the cloud layer, I realized Shield’s game. He couldn’t fly. But he could still touch the clouds.

No such luck for the rest of us; we plunged through the clouds unimpeded, and the other two pegasi were revealed for who they were; Chocolate Cake and Chord Thorn.

“We got us a problem,” Thorn yelled over the wind. “There’s two of you, and only one o’ me.”

“Him,” Duke said, without hesitating. “Take Dice.”

“Fuck off,” I said. “Take Duke!”

“Dice," Duke shouted, looking at me. "Don't worry about me!" Duke had a glint in his eyes, the kindof glint people said I had when I knew something they didn't. "I've got a plan!"

======

A second whump of wings, and Thorn yanked Dice up into the sky. I watched them go, then began to pat myself down, feeling in my pockets. I was looking for a thin, cylyndrical auto-injector...

I yanked it out of my pocket, and grinned when I saw the purple fluid within slosh about, sparks of magic drifting through it lazily. I shoved the stopper between my teeth, and ripped the cover off, exposing a thin, metal needle.

I gritted my teeth, pushed up my sleeve, and lamenting that it had to be a needle, injected it.

======

The world was gray. I was faintly aware of a burning sensation in my veins, and more aware that I seemed to no longer be falling. Nothing I could do about being upside down, though.

“Hello!” a regal mare’s voice boomed around me. “With you in a moment, just... no! OH COME ON, HE DIDN’T - THAT WASN’T A VALID KILL! HE’S NOT EVEN ANTAG!”

The sound of a headset being smashed was heard, and a few steps on invisible tiles, very close by. A door opened in space not far from me, part of reality folding inwards impossibly to accommodate the alicorn on the other side.

Luna, the Regent of the Moon. Her irritated scowl was broken as she looked as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“Uh,” I rubbed my head, and waved. “Hi.”

“This is strange,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“I, uh,” I shrugged. “I used some potion that Twilight sent me.”

“Hmm... oh yes,” Luna nodded, smiling. “I remember now! She sent me a letter saying someone would drop by for a custom conversion! So!” Luna stepped out of the hole in reality, walking forward on an invisible floor, the area around her hooves glowing with magic. “What form do you desire? We can do a pony of your choice... gender swap if that’s what you want... we can do a diamond dog body... perhaps a seapony? Would you like to be a seapony?”

“No, I want to fly,” I said quickly, gesturing. “I need to be able to fly.”

“Hm?” Luna looked down, noticing my situation for the first time, and grimaced. “How did- you humans are ridiculous. You’re six seconds from impact and you want to be ponified enough to fly.”

“Can it be done?”

“Does an Ursa Hibernate in the Everfree?”

“...uh...”

“That is a yes, human.”

“Right.”

“So, you need to fly. Become a gryphon, perhaps?”

“Please. My ego’s big enough as it is.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides. If I became one of those overgrown chickens, I might as well just forget it and let myself die. Bunch of stuck up douchenozzles, the lot of ‘em. They think they’re all hot shit, and I’m pretty sure they ain’t.”

“Pegasus it is, then.” Luna’s horn began to glow. “The transformation will take two seconds, and you will have four to pull up; rely on your reflexes.” She coughed, and grimaced as she put together her plan. “This will hurt. A lot. Don’t mind the blood.”

======

I exploded.

This is not a figurative statement. People were picking bits of Duke Cooper’s genetic material out of everything for a couple of miles around my area of ponification.

It was a transformation not unlike a chestburster’s birth; or, if you’re more of a videogame buff, a telefrag. The essence that was “me” briefly blacked out, before suddenly being surrounded by pulsing red. Red that was ripped away from me in a violent, heatless, soundless explosion, exposing the new me to the rushing air, cold wind playing over exposed nerves and screaming at me.

A radiant glow of magic surrounded me, holding some of the flesh close so that I could grow, arms and legs forming in rapid succession. A second finished ticking by. My bones were reconfigured and shoved into me, giving me a complete skeleton. Muscles stripped, rebuilt and installed. Skin wrapped over me, reformed and reprogrammed to be pony. Hair and feathers sprouted rapidly, wings extended and finished in a heartbeat.

Two seconds.

I streaked towards the earth, my new form’s birth heralded by a small cloud of blood and gibs in the air above me, my new pine-green coat streaked with blood that had once been my own. Orange mane blew in the wind, the speed-grown mass getting in my eyes.

Instinct. I was falling to my death. Pegasi didn’t fall to deaths. They soared, they flew. My wings flicked out, and caught the air.

Three seconds.

I strained, pulling myself up. I was hit with a rain of blood as my velocity slowed, allowing my former remains to catch up with me. I strained harder, wary of going into a flat-fall.

Four seconds.

The roof of the building below was coming up fast; I could see my reflection in the glass below, a bloodied pegasus trying to pull up out of a free-fall. I clenched my teeth, and strained harder, gaining a few degrees.

Five seconds.

I could see everything of myself in my reflection, blood and all. My hooves hit the roof, corrugated iron making a loud thunka-thunka-thunking as the tips of my hooves clipped the uneven surface, blood raining down around me.

I kept flying, tucking in my legs; my knees brushed against the roof as I gained a few degrees, then-

Nothing.

I looked down, and saw that I was out of roof. Below me, an empty street, slowly dropping away. I looked behind me, and saw bits of meat bouncing off the roof where I would have hit if I hadn’t gone pony, red smears on glass. The rocket launcher smashed through the roof with a tear of steel.

I looked back to my front, and beat my wings, grinning. Ahead of me, the sun was setting on the horizon. I looked up, and saw the Valkyrie dropping out of the sky, pegasi flying ahead of it to see me not far from the splat of red they were making a beeline for. I waved, and angled up to meet them.

All’s well that ends well, huh?