Cyber-Buck: A tale of dystopian Equestria

Chapter One:
The call.
"You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays everypony’s crazy." :Cyberpunk 2020.

The colossal buildings towered above the streets and walkways of New Ponyville. Had not the suns light been blocked by the dense cloud cover over head, the buildings alone could have shrouded the entire city into darkness. The skies roiled in a massive sea of black and gray, high above the towers and spires that jutted from the world’s surface. To most that lived within the stately metropolis, the imposing maze felt like living in the discarded bones of a massive creature made of steel and concrete, only punctuated by the oppressive gloom above. However despite the opaque vale that concealed the city to the heavens beyond, the blackened expanse had failed to condemn the city to eternal night. Instead its streets were kept alight in a wash of neon and florescence, from the cityscapes trappings and contrivances.
Darting through traffic on his motorcycle, engine roaring with the fierceness of a dragon, Bright-eyes paid no notice to the gaudy displays. Living in New Ponyville all his life, he had become far too aware of the cities tainted nature; of the corruption lying just beneath the luminous signs and chrome pillars. He knew all to well that the city, though seemingly insurmountable, was falling apart from the inside. With its citizens being constantly terrorized by vicious gangs, corporate in fighting and corrupt security forces, Bright-eyes would not allow himself to be awed by the city’s fabricated grandeur. He however could not begrudge the other citizens for choosing to be taken in by in the city’s bounteous distractions.
Bright-eyes thought it was easier for them. To submit to the diversions of glittering lights and advertisements that promised comfort to all who paid their prices, was simpler then coming to grips with the fact that they might be robbed for their last bit as they walked out their door. Though comfort was not all that was promised; everything had a price in New Ponyville. Nourishment, technology and ‘companionship’ in one form or another was all sold in the vast sprawl of New Ponyville’s markets.
The stores, shops and stalls that lined the city streets boasted a wide variety of goods and ‘premium services’ for everypony, but only supplied them for those who could afford their exorbitant prices. Living beneath the dreary skies of New Ponyville was bad enough, but the exploitation, delinquency and corruption that consumed the city slowly began to eat away at your spirit. This was the true face of New Ponyville, the bleak reality of the darkness above, and below.
Things were what they were, and they would not be easily changed, but it was for this reason Bright-eyes was what he was. He was not going to stand by and watch as good pony folk were exploited and victimized in his city. And so he rode his bike, with its black and white paint, pair of blue and red lights mounted in front and letters that read N.P.V.P.D in large gold print on its sides, boldly announcing him as a proud member of the New Ponyville police department.
He loved his bike, but there was one particular aspect of it he enjoyed more than any other. Though it was loud and imposing, while riding it he would be seen as a pony that demanded to be treated with respect. He was after all a pony that worked for the safety and protection of others, and despite his young appearance, was somepony to be reckoned with.
The wind blew heavily as Bright-eyes sped off down the crowded city streets. The force of the breeze buffeted against the opaque black visor of his helmet, while the intense whooshing of air had nearly drowned out the sounds of the city around him. He would glance only periodically at the mélange of consumers and venders that flanked the cross sections he stopped at. Tech stores, restaurants and clothing shops in particular lined the downtown aria. Several of them were adorned with extravagant neon lights and holographic signs that told of upcoming sales and new products that were a ‘must have’.
As he rode, he caught passing glimpses of a series of billboards that lined the street facing building sides. They beheld images of gorgeous mares with an overabundance of cybernetic implants. All of which were seamlessly integrated into their bodies, with no visible lines of where their coats ended and the metal began. One such billboard, Bright-eyes couldn’t help but be distracted by, was of an absolutely stunning bleach white holographic earth pony mare, making kissy faces and posing in random clips with the model’s seductive voice playing in a loop.
“Synth coat. Love the skin you’re in and don’t want to change? Now you don’t have to. New colors now available, exclusively from all Tiaracorp registered venders. Soft, silky and luxurious. Your implants will be our little secret.”
Between the wind, lights and the saucy billboard it took him a while to notice that his headset was ringing. Pulling over to the nearest curb Bright-eyes removed his helmet, being extra careful to take it off properly, in order for his horn to clear the hole that accommodated unicorn officers. Bright-eyes tapped his earpiece with a hoof, listening to the channel clear of static as the tinny voice of his departments dispatch mare spoke.
“This is dispatch calling all available officers. We’ve got a 225 in progress on 221 Trotting way. Repeat we have a 225 on 221 Trotting way.”
Bright-eyes instantly recalled the code for assault with a deadly weapon and immediately responded.
“This is officer Bright-eyes.” He recited in a clear crisp tone. “Roger that 225 on 221 Trotting way. I’m on route now. E.T.A about four minutes maybe less.”
He looked around at the street signs to get his bearings while trying to remember where Trotting way was relative to his location.
“Roger that. Officers are currently on root now. Approximated time of arrival two min-… Wait cancel that!” A pregnant pause came over the headset briefly. “We’ve got confirmation. The 225 has escalated to 187. Repeat 187 at 221 Trotting way. Please exercise caution.”
Bright-eyes repeated the update of homicide and prepared to take off, but paused when his thoughts picked apart her words. Something nagged at the back of his mind. What she had said seemed odd somehow. It was a small thing at first, but the more he thought about it, the more strongly he felt that something wasn’t right.
“No pony would stay on the phone while they were being murdered.” He reasoned. “And even if they did protocol dictates you can’t officially confirm murder just by sounds over the phone. Beyond that she said that nopony was on the scene yet... So who confirmed it?”
Bright-eyes conscious mind didn’t know why he let this one inconsistency bother him so much, but one thing he learned many years ago was that if something didn’t sound right it probably wasn’t. It wasn’t that he distrusted the dispatch mare; he just trusted his instincts more, and his gut told him this smelled all wrong.
While letting his mind analyze her words more closely, Bright-eyes tried to remember all he could about the aria. Low income apartments, little law enforcement presence and therefor no small amount of dubious characters doing or selling all manner of disreputable things. Then Bright-eyes mind hitched on one possible scenario. He didn’t hear anything in her words that would indicate or justify his reasons for thinking of it, but it did unsettlingly fit the bill, and if he was right it would be far worse than just a random murder. He shook his head violently, trying to clear away those thoughts.
“Easy B-e.” He whispered to himself. “You don’t need that right now. Besides it’s not your job to deal with that anymore.”
He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind, not wanting to jinx himself, and make the job anymore of a problem than it already was.
“It’s probably nothing, just a home invasion or something stupid that got out of hoof.”
Those thoughts however died, as he heard the dispatcher’s metallic voice return. Her voice was much louder this time, and the frantic shrieking she projected into his ear instead of the calm monotone she usually employed, told Bright-eyes that it was anything but a routine homicide.
“EMERGANCY ALL AVAILABLE UNITS! Confirmed multiple 187s and a 217 in progress at 221 Trotting way. Repeat all available units 187 and 217 at 221 Trotting way! Suspect is a light green unicorn mare with reports of cybernetic implants. Approach with extreme caution! Suspect is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous! ”
“Shit! No wonder there’s confirmation.” He cursed.
There was no question in his mind now. If the info was correct, then there would be at least a dozen or more ponies calling in, demanding that somepony come to deal with it. Not to mention the ‘Luna be damned spit jockeys’ as was Bright-eyes common referential for any pony working for the local media, would be all over the scene trying to get footage of the action, and absolutely drooling over every graphic detail.
With all the speed he could muster, Bright-eyes flung his helmet back on, placed his forelegs into the hoof cuffs of his motorcycle, arched his hoof to rev the engine, and sped off with his sirens blaring. His actions were so reflexive that he didn’t even have time to respond to the call of 217; assault with intent to murder.
Bright-eyes mind was bitterly focused as he weaved in and out through the traffic of motor carts and wagons. He let the roaring of his engine fuel his adrenaline, making him warm and filling him with energy. The street lights traced lines across his vision as he sped on down the busy city streets. He knew how the other police ponies were going to respond to the call. They would think it was just some cybercriminal causing mayhem, but Bright-eyes knew better. He had seen situations like this dozens of times before. He knew what to expect the moment he arrived; horrifying carnage and vehement butchery.
No matter how many times the calls came in, and no matter how many bodies they carted through the morgue afterwards, the same actions were always taken by his fellow officers. They would draw their weapons and try to talk down the suspect. It was protocol, but their training was going to get them killed. They were going to walk straight into a slaughter. Then no pony would be able to stop the madness. He had to get there fast.
As he rode a series of three quick chirps from Bright-eyes head set rang in his ear. It was slightly different than the bland triple chime of the dispatcher’s ring tone. Looking down, he glanced at the computer inlayed into the section of his bike between the hoof cuffs. Including a digital readout of his bike’s R.P.Ms and fuel levels, it held an array of channels and settings for different communications systems all linked into the department’s radios; all except one. It had no return call number or address. The only method for determining who this mysterious caller was came from the cryptic, flashing, bright green words ‘unknown caller’. However Bright-eyes expected this call. This caller was in fact well known to him.
Removing his right foreleg from the circular cup like receptacle that acted as a steering mechanism, he quickly pressed the answer call button on his radio. Returning his hoof back into its proper place, Bright-eyes narrowly weaved in between two wagons, which had come to a sudden stop in front of him. With New Ponyville’s traffic being severely congested even on the best of days, to have the inability to steer for even a second was a huge risk.
He greeted his caller with a business like minuteness to his words, which belied their familiarity with one another. He didn’t take the time be cordial with her at first. Not until he had become as informed of the situation as he knew she was. However she quickly degenerated his business like candor into pointless bickering in seconds.
“Keystrokes that you?” He asked.
“No! This is your singing telegram I hope it finds you well. You’re invited to a party because we think you’re really swell. Yes it’s me! Who would you expect it to be?”
“Sorry.” Bright-eyes apologized, hearing the sharp bite of frustration in her voice. “Sounds like you’ve had a bad night. What’s wrong? One of your screens black out again?”
“My screens are in great condition I’ll have you know.” She said, sounding mildly annoyed. She then corrected, speaking so quietly he almost didn’t hear. “I did spill a drink on my keyboard though.”
Bright-eyes smiled, wondering if she was aware that he had picked up her nearly inaudible admission.
“Hmm? I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked in a haughtily mocking tone. “I don’t think I hear you right. You did what to your keyboard now? I hope you didn’t ruin the one I got you for your birthday.”
“Anyway!” She said, cutting off any more of his sarcastic remarks. “Enough with the chatter. It’s not important and doesn’t matter. You’ve probably already got the news. You must hurry there’s no time to lose!”
“Key?” Bright-eyes asked grimly. “It’s what I’m thinking isn’t it? Please tell me I’m being paranoid again, and it’s just a robbery gone wrong or something!”
An uneasy silence fell over the head set. “Your first instinct was right… You’d best prepare for a fight.”
Bright-eyes let out a sigh filled with disquieted angst, as a slight tingle of dread tickled his back. His stomach felt uneasy, as he let his head drop slightly, giving himself a moment to mentally prepare for the probable blood bath he was about to trot into. All he could do was try to make it through alive, get any civilians to safety and come out in one piece. He knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as that though. It never was.
Weaving in and out of traffic, Bright-eyes tried to navigate the busy city streets while Keystrokes called out directions, but every time he tried to focus on the road his mind called forth images of previous cases. One such case, early on in his first year, he remembered as being ‘particularly disturbing’. He had responded to a call not too dissimilar from this one. Assault with intent to murder and a few ponies confirmed dead at the scene. At the time he thought it was exciting. He always wanted to take on a real killer. Like doing that would make him a real cop, and that maybe he would get higher profile cases if he took the perp down.
He cursed himself for his ignorance and naiveté back then. Wishing he had known then what he knew now. He wasn’t ready to handle that kind of case. He wasn’t ready to experience the evils that one pony could do to another. What he saw that night could never be unseen.
Walls painted with blood, patches of fur and flesh strewn about the room, and the flayed remains of an entire family were cut into sections and stacked into a pile on their living room floor. There were bodies of a mother a father and even foals in amongst the gore. The memory of dismembered hoofs, heads and bloodied entrails twisted his stomach into knots. It looked like an unhallowed sacrificial offering to some warped or blasphemous god.
All of these sights horrified Bright-eyes to his core, but none more so than the cold unfeeling eyes of the pony that committed these horrible acts. No, not unfeeling; quite the opposite in fact. There was defiantly some vivacious quality to her stair as she stood atop the pile of gore leering at him, but it held an uncharacteristic air of vacant detachment, missing from the eyes of the more traditional brand of psychopaths. This mixture of self-absence and demonic hate, along with her blood covered face haunted him in his nightmares even to this day, but her grotesque visage was nearly interchangeable with all the other cases like it he had since been called on to deal with.
She glared at him with a look of manic glee, as if she had no remorse for the heinous actions she had committed. If he didn’t know any better, the look of joy and crazed focus in those eyes would have told him that she thought that this was ‘the best night ever’, but Bright-eyes knew there were no such thoughts running through her mind. No intelligence was left in her; she was hollowed out, and all that remained was the frenzied stair, and the unmistakable need to kill.
He never wanted to see that kind of nightmare again. To haft to face down that kind of insanity was his greatest personal fear. A fear he shared with nopony; except for Keystrokes. Most ponies knew the dangers, and took all possible precautions to avoid these kinds of events. Nevertheless, no matter the steps taken to avoid it, or how low the odds were, it just kept happening, and it was for the longest time his job to clean up the mess. And though it sickened him to think that he would haft to revisit this horror, Bright-eyes knew that he was the only one who could put an end to it.
“You’re going to miss the turn!” Keystrokes yelled in his ear.
Bright-eyes skillfully leaned hard to the right, causing his tires to let out a shrill screech as he turned. The quick angle adjustment forced him to cutoff some random (now very furious) red Pegasus in a motor wagon. With his thoughts about the past taking up his concentration he had almost missed the turn off that would take him strait to Trotting way.
“Honestly won’t you ever learn? I swear if it wasn’t for me… well… I don’t know where you’d be.”
Bright-eyes mouthed her words, silently mocking her. She was always chastising him over one thing or another, and it had gotten to a point where her whining had become more like white noise. Still even after years of working with her he couldn’t tune her out, no matter how hard he tried; and he tried a lot. This time however he felt differently. He was grateful that her nagging pulled him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t risk going back there, not now anyway. He needed to be sharp and concentrate on the here and now. His enemy wasn’t going to give him the chance to think, and if he wanted to get out alive he would haft to be quick, clever and focused on surviving.

Bright-eyes pulled up to Trotting way in record time. He estimated four minutes but beat it by one. Still two minutes too late as he saw the fight with the perpetrator had spilled out into the streets. The scene was as violent as he imagined. The remaining police ponies had been unlucky in their attempts to apprehend the suspect, and had tragically gotten innocent civilian ponies involved.
Trails of blood ran from inside a nearby apartment building out into the street. The body of a dark blue unicorn with vanilla blond mane lay face down blocking the threshold of the door way. The flickering yellowish lighting from the street lamps, each competing with one another, sent forked shadows dancing across the pavement illuminating the brutalized ruins of nearly a dozen bodies. Police and civilian corpses lie in haphazard heaps next to the remains of a news crew that had failed to reconvene to the relative safety of their wagon, before being cut down and chopped into crouton sized chunks of pony flesh.
Bright-eyes surveyed the carnage, and with morbid accuracy he determined that at least four of the pony corpses belonged to the news crew, three were random civilians and of the six police ponies called to the scene, at some indeterminate point between the call and Bright-eyes arrival their numbers were whittled down by half. There was no telling how many more were dead inside, but Bright-eyes wasn’t going to go find out; partially to spare the images of the massacre from taking refuge in his dreams.
“Celestia damn it!”
He cursed himself for his tardiness. Removing his helmet while hoping off of his motorcycle, Bright-eyes caught a better idea of what the light green unicorn cyborg was capable of, as she completely butchered one of his fellow officers.
The cyborg bucked one of the officers in the chest as he approached her from behind. Back peddling away as quickly as he could, the officer tried to put as much space between each other as possible, but the impact caused him to trip over his own back hoofs and fumble onto his rear; she was no him in an instant. With the officer reeling from her kick, she spun around and lunged out with her foreleg. Adorned with a shiny blade, that extended ten inches from the cleft of her hoof, she pierced clean through his neck; the tip of the blade protruding out the other side. The other police ponies watched in horror as she wrenched it from his throat, eliciting a chocked gargling noise as he grabbed at his neck; blood pouring out of his mouth. He smeared the crimson liquid as his hooves clawed at his throat; the dark red contrasting with his fur’s natural green hue. With a dancers grace she spun around him, placed a hoof against the back of his head and slammed it into the ground with a resounding gory crack. The officer’s skull split open, leaking torrents of blood from both wounds.
“That was overkill.” Bright-eyes thought to himself.
The unicorn then retracted the blade into her hoof and began to stomp and buck her victim furiously, all the while shouting in unintelligible grunts, hisses and howls. There was no point to her unceasing brutality. The cop’s life had ended the instant his head became acquainted with the ground, but she didn’t stop. She continued to mash the body under her hooves, shattering ribs and breaking legs. Spurts of blood gushed from the pony’s lifeless form, painting her body with red ribbons of colored fluid. The two remaining officers had stopped trying to reason with her entirely well before this point, electing instead to discharge as many shots as they could in hopes of dropping the crazed mare.
Due to their fear, they were hard pressed to strike any part of her accurately. With their aim sporadically sending bullets in all directions, they failed to strike even the few exposed areas her body possessed. Bright-eyes knew better then to throw himself in the mix. Often times the lines between friend and foe blurred, and all look alike in the chaos of a firefight. He would do nopony any good if he got shot being careless. Instead he watched and waited, quietly observing how best to deal with his enemy. Like a shadow in the dark he stood amidst the carnage, completely undetected by both police and mad unicorn.
Bright-eyes noticed quickly, that even their lucky hits weren’t doing any good, and it didn’t take him long to see why. Her body was almost completely incased in a patchy metal armor, with little more than an inch or two of her own hide still visible in places. Her right eye was replaced with a dull gray optic implant, much of her skull and back was swapped out for metal plating, allowing for only a small amount of her mane and coat to be visible in places. Compounding that, all four of her legs, even the section of flank that once held her cutie mark, had been removed entirely for glistening new blood stained ones, that somehow managed to have modified sections where a combat knife and what looked like rotating saw blade unfolded from her hooves.
However her coverings and weapons were the least of his worries. It was not only the disjointed aegis that incased this pony that made her so fierce, it was merely the precursor of her inevitable slip into insanity. In truth it was her state of mind that was the most terrifying aspect about her; that alone made Bright-eyes reluctant to engage her.
This unicorn exhibited all the signs that she was no longer in control of her actions. She showed no mercy, and used her weapons with impunity and a vicious fervor that made it apparent that whoever she may have been once, that pony was long gone now. She had lost herself to the implants, becoming a whirling dervish of death and destruction. She had gone Cyber-psycho.
Bright-eyes was more familiar with her kind then the other officers, and saw an advantage being outside. As far as he could tell the cyberneticaly altered unicorn was only dangerous at close quarters, and didn’t look like she possessed any ranged weapons. His side arm however was not going to be much use against her. It was obvious that standard low caliber bullets that the officers were using weren’t able to penetrate her hide, as every successful hit just glanced or ricocheted off her metal body parts. Knowing he wouldn’t last long against the physically modified pony in a hoof to hoof brawl, Bright-eyes looked around for any way to get off the street. He had to find higher ground. If he could get up and out of her line of sight he might have a chance to end this pony’s savage frenzy. Saving the other officers lives would be a bonus.
After a few seconds of surveying the scene Keystrokes chimed in, directing him to his salvation witch came in the form of a fire escape just down an alleyway full of dumpsters and refuse behind him. It was so shrouded in shadow that he would have missed it had she not called his attention to its existence. Bright-eye’s horn glowed with a translucent green aura as he wrapped a telekinetic field around a sizeable case that he stored on the back of his bike. Liberating it from its fastenings he levitated it with him as he galloped down the grungy alley. Sparing no time he channeled his inner rodeo show pony opting to jump over the hurdles of garbage and waste in his way rather than running around them.
Skidding to a stop Bright-eyes came just beneath the fire escape. Placing his case beside him he tried to pull the ladder down with his magic. His attempts yielded no results aside from causing the ladder to wobble stiffly. He trotted a few steps away in order to see what was keeping it in place. A small rusty looking silver box clung to the ladder with a metal loop connecting it to the frame of the fire escape.
“Locked. Damn!”
Not wanting to be discouraged so easily, Bright-eyes looked around for something he could use as a boost. He didn’t haft to search long however, as just beside the ladder was a set of dumpsters lining the wall. Leaping on to the closest one, he vaulted off its lid in an attempted to grab the end of the fire escape’s ladder. The ladder was locked in place annoyingly high up, so it was little wonder that his jump failed to grant him the height he needed. This was not the first time in his life that he had cursed himself for being born a unicorn instead of a Pegasus, but such thoughts were for different reasons than height constraints. Thinking fast he levitated his case off the ground and positioned in front of himself, trying to use its flat surface as a spring board. This tactic didn’t work as well as he had hoped, as it gave only a slight resistance to his kickoff. The force of which caused the case to fall out of his telekinetic grip and hit the ground with a loud thump.
With his momentum dying he saw a slim chance to reach. Abandoning all standard techniques Bright-eyes managed to catch the lowest rung of the ladder’s steps in his mouth. With a loud mettle clang ringing in his ears and his jaw screaming in pain Bright-eyes hung from the ladder, dangling helplessly and swinging slightly, like a sad pony piñata.
“Tell me the truth. Did you chip a tooth?” Keystrokes voice taunted Bright-eyes over his ear piece.
“Er reerry hert yerr.” Bright-eyes mumbled with the foul, rust coated metal step clenched between his teeth. He wondered how she could be so cavalier when other ponies were depending on him. It was better that thought taking up his attention, then dwelling on what kind of pestilence encrusted horror he just bit down onto… And that taste.
Before his dental strength could give out, Bright-eyes quickly hooked his forelegs around the bottom step and tried to pull himself up. His levitation was criminally weak and nowhere near strong enough to lift him up by itself, forcing him to let his back end dangle as he tried to climb the ladder.
As Bright-eyes held on, he could still hear the fight going on out in the street. From what little of the auditory bedlam he could make out, he could guess that the fight was going poorly for the other officers. The sounds of screaming, metal scraping against asphalt, the squelch of blood and crack of breaking bones painted a gruesome picture in his mind, as he struggled to hold on to the ladder. With the sounds competing with his other senses for dominance Bright-eyes found it nearly impossible to concentrate. He could feel himself slipping.
“You mother fucking monster. Leave him alone he’s already dead!”
The voice of one of the officer ponies broke through the noise, as she cursed out the psycho. The shrill sounds of her words were heavy with sadness, anger and fear. The wet crunch of the psycho’s metal limbs repeatedly smashing into the other officer’s corps returned to the forefront of Bright-eyes perceptions. He couldn’t fall. Not now. He couldn’t risk losing any more time. Regaining his determination and focus Bright-eyes hoisted himself up, and step by step began to climb the ladder.
Once one of his back legs managed to find perches on the lowest step he scrambled up the ladder to the first tier of metal walkways. Casting another telekinetic field around his case Bright-eyes dashed up the stairs, lifting it up with him while he climbed. As he zigzagged up the stairs he couldn’t help but glance at the perplexed looking ponies through the windows while he ascended. Some were no doubt wondering what he was doing out there, while others hid so as to not get involved with the events outside.
In no time at all he had reached the roof, and proceeded to find a view point. After having found a nice spot on the front left corner of the roof, Bright-eyes put down his large case, and popped the locks with his magic. Inside the box was a large black rifle in three pieces, four if you counted the scope, with a gratuitous amount of bullets, clips and speed loaders lining its roof. He levitated each section, and in seconds he had a fully assembled Phillydelphian bolt action single shot sly shooter sniper rifle.
“If this doesn’t drop her nothing will.”
His lips slowly curled into a devious grin as he beheld his gun, as a foal would after thinking of a malicious prank. Leering over the edge of the roof, he eyed the relative positions of everypony on the street below.
“That is if I can manage to get a clean shot.”
Despite his words Bright-eyes wasn’t too worried. He knew where his destiny laid. His cutie mark told him that long ago. With the image of a crosshair blatantly adorning his flank, there was little debate as to what his special talent was.
Levitating the scope from its slot he thought on it for a moment, only before putting it back into its proper place.
“Choosing to use your own eyes? Why is that not a surprise?”
Quickly shifting glances left and right, Bright-eyes looked around, trying to find what Keystrokes was viewing him from. He noticed a swiveling street camera that was bolted onto the adjacent building. The city had built several of such cameras spread all across New Ponyville, with the intention of catching delinquents or speeding wagons. However this particular camera wasn’t looking at the street, but instead focused straight at him.
“It’s bad enough that you eavesdrop on me constantly, but hacking a camera to spy on me. Now that’s just uncouth.” He chuckled while positioning himself on his haunches, rifle but resting against his shoulder.
Bright-eyes saw the mashed remnants of the dead officer’s body. It was now an unrecognizable barely pony shaped lump of bloody flesh. The other two officers had finally lost their nerve and began backing up to retreat. The insane unicorn turned, and began to search for a new target for her rage. The youngest officer, a golden yellow earth pony mare, with a poufy candy pink mane, had somehow lost her gun, and had become disoriented in her panic-stricken attempt to flee. She bounded left and right not certain where to go. It was her frantic motions that drew the psycho’s attention towards her. Bright-eyes perched his rifle against the ledge, and carefully lined up his shot. His horn glowed with a pale green light as he focused his eyes, looking for a weak spot.
Normally ponies wouldn’t use rifles. Most would stick to using mouth held pistols with bit grip attachments; like the officers below. But Bright-eyes preferred the arched handle model of hand guns and rifles to bit guns any day. Being a unicorn his magic allowed him to use manual trigger guns that were meant for dogs and griffins. The better ammo capacity, penetration and overall control made fights so much easier. Not to mention he didn’t haft to deal with the recoil hurting his jaw after every shot. The ladder took care of that all by itself.
Bright-eyes watched as the youngest officer pony slowly crawled backwards, attempting to flee. The psycho had her fill of pounding the dead officer into paste. She wanted a live specimen and began to advance on fleeing mare. An intense look of crazed joy that Bright-eyes had come to understand as ubiquitous to such ponies had consumed the unicorns face, contorting it into a deranged toothy sneer. The young mare backed up as far as she could go, until her rear bumped against the large brick wall of the apartment building from which the psycho had come from.
With the psycho blocking her way forward, she could do nothing but cower as she approached. Bright-eyes focused his aim to the back of the psycho’s head. He saw his opportunity. He needed to shoot now.
A series of familiar dull chimes suddenly rang into Bright-eyes ears, startling him, effectively breaking his concentration. The start caused the rifle to twitch slightly, forcing him to miss. The loud crack of his firearm echoed all around him. The ponies on the ground (with exception of the psycho) looked around in a panic; no doubt wondering who and where the shooter was.
“You’ve got to be bucking kidding me right now.” Bright-eyes grunted as he taped his ear piece, reloaded his rifle and tried to regain focus. “You had better have a damn good reason for calling me right now.” He barked.
“Watch your tone officer!” Commanded an authoritative mare; her voice latent with a mixture of agitation and condescension. “You’re on thin ice with me as it is Bright light. Don’t press your luck right now.”
Bright-eyes expected that it wasn’t Keystrokes calling him, but what he didn’t expect was the voice he heard, shouting at him in a volume that mirrored the fabled royal Canterlot voice. Recognizing it as the current chief of the New Ponyville police Shield Flash, he adopted a more professional if not slightly indignant tone.
“Sorry boss mam, but I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. Now if you don’t mind, I need to put you on hold for a sec while I give somepony a 35 caliber lobotomy.”
“That’s what I’m calling about. You’re not needed there anymore. I’m ordering you to stand down.”
Bright-eyes paused for a moment while he processed what he had just heard. Tapping his earpiece in disbelief, thinking it just glitched out on him he repeated her previous statement.
“I’m… I’m sorry I must not have heard you correctly. Did you-- Did you just tell me to stand down?”
“Affirmative.” Shield flash responded.
“You do know what’s going on right now, don’t you? Let me enlighten you just in case you haven’t heard.” Bright-eyes let a sharp furious tone enter his voice, which he didn’t notice until he was nearly yelling at her. “There’s an overzealous veggie chopper down here that’s just torn through at least half a city block, and plans to do the same to anypony else she comes across, including our own officers. I’ve got a clear shot right now, but from what I’ve just heard you want me to sit back and watch them get puréed?”
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. I’m telling you to stand down and let someone else have this one.”
At this Bright-eyes was utterly aghast. It was unlike her, and made no sense as to why she would tell him to hold off just to stroke the ego of somepony else.
“What?! Since when do you play favorites? Who wants this? Siren?”
Siren Blare an overzealous earth pony, whose father had connections with some of the more hoity-toity types in Canterlot had been complaining for months that he couldn’t get higher profile cases; which caused no end of headaches for Bright-eyes, as well as most of the other officers. There was once a plan in place to shove a sock in his mouth, duct tape it shut and throw him into the mare’s bathroom, just to get him to shut up. But it never panned out; mostly because nopony wanted to pay the seven bits for a roll of the good silver reflective stuff.
“He couldn’t hit the broad side of a-”
“It’s not Siren!” She reassured him. Bright-eyes felt relieved at that statement.
“Well if it’s not Siren than who the hell is so damn import--” Suddenly something clicked in his mind. Bright-eyes caught a word out of place that she had let slip. “Hold up! Someone… Not somepony?” He heard her curse faintly, but before she could say anything to deny it he belted out.
“Who did you sublet this case to if it wasn’t one of our own?”
“It’s none of your business! I gave you an order and I expect you to obey it!”
“I think it is my business!” He yelled back. This time not trying to hide his anger, he let loose with all the furry he could muster. “And what about the ponies down there, is it their business? What am I supposed to do? Just say okee dokee lokee and pack it in?”
“Yes!”
Shield flash took in a deep breath and continued with a slower and more even tone.
“Look I’m sorry to ask you to do this, but you can’t do anything for them right now.”
“To Tartarus I can’t!” Bright-eyes screamed.
“Bright-eyes I’m serious the dogs are on their way, if their fast enough--”
“Wait! DOGS!? Since when do we take orders from corporate sec-?”
“Since I say so!” She interrupted. “And since I’m your boss YOU WILL stand down now and let the security forces do their jobs. You’re done there!”
Bright-eyes seethed, as an uneasy silence fell over the headset. This was beyond intolerable. He was being put on the back burner for a bunch of mangy animals. Not even mentioning what by extension her actions were doing to the other officers. With the minor pause Bright-eyes weighed the situation in his mind. He could just put his gun down and wait for the dogs to rip her apart. It’s not like they weren’t capable or willing to cause some damage. The few he ever spoke to seemed all battle lust and bravado. But then there was still the matter of the ponies down below. They couldn’t wait.
Shield flash must have construed Bright-eyes silence as a statement outright defiance, as she broke the com silence.
“THAT’S AN ORDER OFICER BRIGHT-EYES! You’re to pass this case over to-”
Bright-eyes nickered while rolling his eyes. Tapping his ear piece, he switched the channel, cutting her off in mid-sentence.
“Key you heard that right?” He knew this wasn’t going to end well. Shield flash didn’t like being ignored.
“I did indeed. Tell me what you need.”
“Make her eat static until I’m done K!” He said through gritted teeth, his voice more bitter and angry than ever. He figured that a com malfunction would be an acceptable excuse for disobedience. It would be easier to explain how the random static sounded like a countermand of her previous orders, than living with himself if he followed through with them.
“I don’t like to interfere with police channels you know.” Keystrokes protested. “But I’ll do it if you say so.”
“Thanks Key. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to fly?”
“Stick a cupcake in my eye.” Bright-eyes grinned childishly, as he finished her silly rhyme.
Switching his headset back, Bright-eyes listened to his boss rant on as Keystrokes went to work quickly degrading her words into the unintelligible buzzing and crackling of white noise.
“Thanks Key.” He whispered to himself, while reasserting his focus on the psycho.
The psycho had cornered the young officer. She was taunting her with quick darting motions with the knife in her left hoof, and sweeping waves of the saw blade in her right. As she drew nearer the mare’s partner, a grey earth pony stallion hesitated to move. He looked like he was on the verge of either dashing at the psycho blindly, or running away in terror. He stood nearly motionless just taking in events as they came. Bright-eyes assumed he would make a move the moment he needed to, but wasn’t going to chance him taking the ladder option.
Closing his eyes, Bright-eyes exhaled slowly and focused his thoughts on how the next few seconds were going to play out. Regaining his composure he drew in a breath of air, held it and zeroed in on the base of the psychos skull. He saw his target clearly as he timed his shot. The psycho lifted her hoof and prepared to strike. Staring down the notch of his rifle Bright-eyes released his breath in time with the shot. The loud crack of his rifle reverberated all around him once more.
His heart leaped in his chest as he realized the trajectory of the bullet was slightly off. It had lodged itself into the wall, just behind the officer’s head.
“Shit!” he thought. “I missed.”
He had missed just a centimeter off, but was enough to leave the psycho completely unharmed. He couldn’t reload fast enough. The rifle he used was powerful enough to plow its way through an engine block, but that power came at a price. In order for it to hit with such force, it was made with a chamber only big enough for one bullet; a crippling design flaw to say the least. Bright-eyes watched time slow to a crawl as the psycho plunged her knife into the officer.
Bright-eyes slowly reopened his eyes as a cold sweat rolled down his forehead. He saw the young officer cowering before the psycho, unharmed but terrified. Those images his thoughts conjured up ate at him.
“If I miss, her blood will be on my hooves.”
He pushed those thoughts to the side, but they didn’t leave. His horn glowing with radiant green light, Bright-eyes focused solely on his target, as his doubts quietly whispered at the back of his mind. While eyeing the base of the psycho pony’s skull, something caught his eye. A small section of exposed skin barely the width of a bit was visible just a few centimeters from the center of her skull. Its pale furlessness stood out like a beacon in the night, against the silvery sheen of her implants. It was almost as if it was taunting him to strike it. The childish grin returned to his lips. Normally Bright-eyes wouldn’t rise to being baited like this; normally.