Harpflank And Sweets Can Never Die!
Author's Note
This was an April Fools 2014 prank, where I took over Arcanium's account and published this story under his name. More details here: http://www.fimfiction.net/blog/305232/new-story-that-you-probably-didnt-see-also-april-fools-stuff-and-blakes-7
The joke was more 'this is written in the style of Blueshift not Arcanium', and in itself is a coherent story that I'm rather proud of.
Harpflank And Sweets Can Never Die!
Metropony City! Mighty skyscrapers towering over the millions of ponies going about their lives on the streets below! Working, playing or just taking in the weather, Metropony bustles as only the big city can. But! All is not well in this equine metropolis! Below the streets lies a threat - a threat to the happiness and friendship of good ponies everywhere! And the name of that threat is rampant socialist government policies!
Yes, socialism. Filthy Rich sneered inwardly as he steeled himself for the task that lay ahead. He had once been living a comfortable, humble existence on just fifty thousand bits a month as a medical insurance broker, but after Pobama came to power and forced in free healthcare, that life came tumbling down.
He spat on the ground at the memory. No, he was not Filthy Rich any more. Filthy Poor was his new name, thanks to the government. Around him Metropony City bustled with the busy hum of ponies doing their daily business, business which no longer included sending him half their pay cheques in return for an insurance policy with an unfeasibly large excess. He owed them nothing. They owed him everything.
He looked across to his once-colleagues, Golden Scale and Don Dinero. Like him they had been brought low. Golden Scale lost everything when Pobama stopped subsidising Equestrian Oil. And Don Dinero's gas business had been crippled when selfish Pobama lifted the ban on environmentally-friendly magic generators. The government said they had to look for more 'pony friendly' ways of making money. And so Filthy Rich did.
"Okay," he shouted, lifting up his magical shotgun and letting slip two blasts into the ceiling. "Everybody stay calm and no-one gets hurt! We just want all your money!" They were in a bank. The smell of wealth was almost overpowering to him, he was dizzy with the anticipation. His co-conspirators bought their weapons to bear on the terrified customers.
"This ain't our fault!" Golden Scale yelled. "It's the government's!"
There were a few nods of agreement amongst the hostages. Any pony worth their salt knows how terrible the government can be. One little filly however had not got the memo. "No!" she squeaked in anger. "You can't rob a bank! That's illegal! Harpflank and Sweets will stop you!"
"Hah!" Filthy Rich struck his hoof out to smack the small pony on the head. "Harpflank and Sweets? Those do-gooders? Don't make me laugh! I've not heard about them for ages, they're probably dead or something!"
"NO! HARPFLANK AND SWEETS CAN NEVER DIE!" Everyone looked up at once at the cry from above, as the mysterious crime-fighting duo of Harpflank and Sweets swung in, covered head to hoof in identity-concealing spandex, Harpflank hoisting her deadly harp and Sweets preparing a round of delicious gob-stoppers to throw. "TIME TO GIVE UP, YOU CRIMINALS!"
They were met with a hail of bullets, and dissolved into pink mist.
***
"Anyway, so then Tarrant runs into the room, and he's got it all wrong because he's an idiot, and he sees Hayvon and is all 'Blake sold us out!'" And then Blake enters the room, and Hayvon is all 'Blake! Have you betrayed us? Have you betrayed meeee?' and then-"
Bon-Bon sat in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to concentrate on the bleeping of the various machines she was hooked up to rather than the incessant droning of Lyra in the bed next to her. If she had to pay for her healthcare, she would have got a private room, but thanks to Pobama and his free healthcare, she had to share one. "Lyra," she hissed. "Shut up."
Lyra paused for a moment. Then she opened her mouth again. "So all these alarms are going off right, and Blake is all 'Tarrant doesn't understand, I set all this up!' But Hayvon completely misunderstands and thinks she means sets up betraying them so she shoots Blake and there's blood everywhere, and I mean, this is a family TV show and-"
"Right." Bon-Bon painfully moved her neck to the side to allow her to stare at Lyra. "When I asked you what the previous worst experience in your life was, I was expecting to hear a story about, I don't know, the previous worst experience in your life that happened to you. Not a television show for fillies."
"Blake's 7 is serious business!" Lyra rolled over on her bandage-covered side to glower at Bon-Bon.
"Right. Sorry." Bon-Bon wrinkled her nose. "But really, Lyra, what's the worst thing that's happened to you?"
"Okay." Lyra took a breath. "So, Blake staggers forwards and falls into Hayvon's arms, crying out 'Haaaayvon!" and then evil Federations guards storm the base, and shoot all the other main characters dead, and Hayvon's there holding Blake in her hooves and she realises that Blake hadn't betrayed them and she had just killed her best friend, and then she's the last one alive and surrounded by guards who all raise their guns, and then it's silent apart from all the alarms going off and then Hayvon slowly raises her gun and smiles-"
Lyra trailed off. Bon-Bon groaned. "And then what?"
"Nothing!" Lyra yelped. "It just faded to black! That was it! That was the last episode of Blake's 7! They didn't make any more! I waited and I waited, Bon-Bon, but they never did, and I never knew how Hayvon escaped, if she even did! What a way to end a tv show, I was only small, it was the worst moment of my life, I-"
She was interrupted by the flatlining of Bon-Bon's heart monitor.
"Bon-Bon!" she squeaked in alarm, painfully jerking upright to stare across at her friend. She was met with the guilty gaze of Bon-Bon, who had crawled half-out of her bed and was holding the monitor plug in her mouth.
"Yeah, well," Bon-Bon scowled. "I thought I'd just unplug my life-support if you were going to carry on like that, but I guess it turns out I'm better now. Bad luck me."
“Ladies, please!” The two looked up as Nurse Redheart, M.A.R.E’s official medic sauntered into view, pushing a trolley laden with various clipboards, a bowl of fruit, and a gigantic syringe.
“No syringe!” Lyra squeaked in panic. “We’re cured of being shot through with holes, promise!” She looked towards Bon-Bon for confirmation. Bon-Bon just shrugged.
“Our super-suits are laser-proof, radiation-proof and bomb proof,” Bon-Bon sighed. “Someone, somewhere forgot to make them bullet proof.”
“Well, this will cheer you both up!” Nurse Redheart rummaged in her trolley, and to Lyra’s horror pulled out the giant syringe. Then realising her mistake, she pulled out a small pink envelope. “Everyone at M.A.R.E has been worried about you two since your uh, accident! We can’t have our best crime-fighting operatives out of action for too long!”
Lyra snatched at the envelope with her magic and tore it open. Inside was a glossy card, the front of which had a picture of a cheese grater, some flour and an egg. Above it was written: ‘IT’S GRATE YOU ARE BATTER’. “Hahaha,” Lyra broke down in tears, failing to hold back the laughter. “It’s like, a cheese grater! That’s amazing!” The card flew onto the ground in her convulsions and Bon-Bon painfully scooped it up.
“I think Lyra’s sense of humour got mortally wounded in the ‘incident’” she grumbled to Nurse Redheart. “If indeed it ever existed at all.” She thumbed open the card and read aloud. “Dear Harpflank and Sweets, it is good you are not dead, also you are not getting any sick pay so get back to work quickly, love everyone at M.A.R.E.” She threw the card in the direction of Lyra’s bed. “They all signed it, even Carrot Top. At least I assume that big ‘X’ is her signature.”
Lyra’s eyes bulged as she saw the card again. “O-oh heck and the egg and flour is like, batter, and it says ‘batter’ instead of ‘better’…” She collapsed again in fits of giggles.
“Seriously.” Bon-Bon gestured at Lyra. “Nurse Redheart, did something fall out of her? Like, her brain?”
Nurse Redheart just smiled that professional smile nurses use when they inwardly want to stab their patients with an abnormally large syringe. “Nope! And it’s good news, Bon-Bon, both of you are now fine and fit for duty again, with one or two very minor snags.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Bon-Bon gave a stretch and painfully limped out of bed. Her legs started to buckle, but she ignored the pain and remained upright. “I can’t wait to get back to fighting supercriminals again. You’ve done a great job, nurse. I just wish I could go into incredible financial debt to you as a result.”
“I know,” Nurse Redheart sighed. “Ever since Pobama signed in that free healthcare bill we’ve all been suffering. They had to close the hospital’s money-filled swimming pool, you know!”
“That’s awful. Look, let me cut you a cheque for fifty thousand bits, it can be our little secret.” Bon-Bon scrabbled for a piece of paper, before noticing that Lyra had not only gone deadly silent, but was staring at her. “What?” she hissed. “What’s wrong now?”
“Did uh…” Lyra squinted at Bon-Bon. “Did uh, that always used to be there?”
Bon-Bon followed Lyra’s stare, turning round to look at her flank. “Did what – oh my Celestia!” Sitting proudly on her rear was the perfectly proportioned cutie mark of a yellow harp. She whipped the covered off a surprised Lyra, to reveal the image of three wrapped sweets on her friend.
“Yes…” Nurse Redheart looked sheepish. “As I said, a few minor snags. I mean, it was touch and go for a few mi-“
“You swapped our cutie marks?” Bon-Bon started to twitch, eyes bulging as she barely restrained herself from leaping towards Nurse Redheart and using the giant syringe in ways mortal pony had never conceived before. “How – what – why…”
“Hey, c’mon…” Lyra sunk into her sheets. “She said it was touch and go…”
“But…. But…” Bon-Bon continued to stare in disbelief. “We just got shot! How… how does that result in cutie mark translocation?”
Nurse Redheart shrugged. “Look, long and short of it is, I’m not actually a doctor, I’m just a nurse. You get what you pay for. Or rather, don’t. Have a nice day!” She flashed a smile, and then pleasantly trotted out the door.
Lyra gazed at Bon-Bon and then down at her own flank. “Wait. Hang on. This is really bad, isn’t it?”
Bon-Bon just sighed.
***
The descent to M.A.R.E’s underground headquarters was arduous.
It had been decided at some point to build it deep underground. This had many advantages for a top secretly public-facing defence organisation. Unfortunately due to the sprawling metropolis that was Metropony City, the base had to be built very deep indeed so as not to interfere with the many foundations and underground rail networks that stretched across the depths of the city.
The slow grind of the lift as it travelled downwards was accentuated by the horrendous screeching that was Lyra, diligently trying (and failing) to play the small harp she had brought with her. Bon-Bon gently smacked her face against the side of the lift as it rumbled on, trying to block out the cacophony from her ears.
“Lyra,” she hissed at last through gritted teeth. “Give it a rest will you.” She instantly regretted this as Lyra’s face fell and her bottom lip wobbled.
“Sorry,” Lyra squeaked, winging her hooves slightly. “I just, y’know, thought if I practised, the music might come. I mean, it’s just a cutie mark, right? What am I without my music? Nothing!” She slumped into the corner of the lift.
“Hey, that’s not…” Bon-Bon trailed off. “Well, look on the bright side, that means you get to do whatever it is I do with sweets.” Bon-Bon didn’t really do much with sweets; this was in fact a bit of a bitter pill to swallow.
Lyra sniffled. “Have I really lost it, Bon-Bon? Am I all washed up? Was all that stuff I went through in the past for nothing?” She pushed the harp towards Bon-Bon. “Here, you have a go.”
Bon-Bon hesitantly reached out to the harp, and plucked a few notes. It didn’t sound much better. “There, see?” She smiled. “It’s clearly not your cutie mark!”
“You’re just saying that!” Lyra wrapped a hoof around her eyes in despair. “You just need to practise, or else you’re wasting my cutie mark, and that’s even worse!”
Bon-Bon rolled her eyes. “Lyra, I don’t think-” She was cut off as the lift suddenly thumped to a halt and the doors opened, revealing the high-tech expanse of M.A.R.E headquarters.
The chrome and glass interior stretched for what seemed like miles, with huge steel pylons holding up the hangar-like interior. There was the constant buzz of activity as technicians moved various complex-looking pieces of equipment, both newly invented or captured from the bevvy of super-villains that continually threatened the city. Strung up somewhere in the ceiling was one such piece, the head of the late King Sombra’s personal Crystal Pony mech, the Crystal Emperor, its dead eyes staring down at the goings on below in a sort of frozen despair. When it was salvaged, the idea was that the tech team would dismantle it and use any discoveries to improve M.A.R.E’s own arsenal. Either they had never got around to it or they just liked seeing it up there.
At the lobby of the base, a small trestle table had been set up, with a large cake placed upon it. Or at least the remains of a large cake, all the nicely iced pieces had already been eaten. Badly blown up and half-deflated balloons lazily drifted around it, and a big banner had been erected that proudly said ‘THANKS FOR NOT BEING DEAD, HARPFLANKS AND SWEETS’. A polite round of applause broke out as Lyra and Bon-Bon stepped from the lift.
“Bon-Bon! Lyra!” Commander Derpy gave a quick salute and then returned to her slice of cake. “It’s good to see you up and about after that little… accident thing! Don’t worry, Vinyl Scratch tells me that making the super-suits bulletproof is next on the list!”
“It totally is!” Vinyl nodded. “Well, it’s on the list, somewhere! We’ve just been really busy with all the leftover S.O.M.B.R.A tech that’s still rolling in! Those guys made some crazy stuff.”
“Yeah, but I wish you’d take that big head down,” Octavia mumbled, looking up at the huge, broken crystal mech head that towered over them. She was picking at her slice of cake, clearly eager to get back to whatever it was she actually did at M.A.R.E. Bon-Bon was never quite sure what that was. Derpy did the commanding stuff, Vinyl Scratch did the clever whizzy techy stuff, and Octavia did the… mashing keyboard stuff. Computers. Whatever.
“Also I’m here!” Carrot Top piped up from behind the cake, icing oozing from her mouth. Carrot Top was not one of the leading figures of Equestria’s top crime-fighting organisation, but she did always turn up for cake.
“This is lovely, it really is,” Bon-Bon mumbled without much enthusiasm as she watched Carrot Top hoover up the remains of the icing, leaving a slightly damp spongy mess on the table. “I’d like to get debriefed as quickly as possible, Commander Derpy, and back into the field, I’m sure there’s lots of…”
“Nonsense!” Derpy beamed. “You know, apart from petty crime, it’s been real quiet since you two shut down S.O.M.B.R.A. King Sombra’s dead, his number two is in custody and the rest of his terrorist organisation has fled or gone to ground.
“And there’s no more Crystal Ponies,” Vinyl reached for another slice of cake, and then paused as her hoof came away covered in a suspiciously damp slice. “We’ve had agents scanning the whole of Equestria for any more of those mechs, not a trace. They’ve all been destroyed. Gives us time to do some actual work, eh babe?” She gave Octavia a playful nudge.
“Don’t call me babe,” was all Octavia could mumble. She prodded her slice of cake again as if it was about to move.
“I don’t like it.” Lyra gave her harp a slight hug, and then pushed it away from her as if a traitorous lover. “I’m used to a constant barrage of super villains trying to control the city. First we beat Luna, then Discord, and then King Sombra. Where’s the next one? It’s not right!”
“Pobama!” Bon-Bon hissed, shaking a hoof.
“Nah,” Lyra shook her head. “You can’t pin this one on him. It’s the end of an era, that’s all I’m saying. What’ll M.A.R.E do if no more crazed maniacs with more firepower than sense turn up?”
“Ah, the tale of the twilight, when the great battles were over and the great miracles long since performed.”
All heads turned towards Vinyl Scratch in confusion. “What?” Vinyl shrugged. “It’s a comic thing! You know, Supermare? Whatever Happened to the Mare of Tomorrow? Did no-one ever read that? It’s a quote, I’m doing a thing!”
“Oh.” Lyra’s face brightened. “Hey Scratch, did you ever watch Blake’s 7?”
“Huh? No, I’m not gay.”
“Oh,” Lyra’s face fell.
“Anyway,” Derpy pushed the remains of the cake towards Carrot Top, who began to hoover it into her mouth. Her eyes both somehow focussed on each of Bon-Bon and Lyra’s cutie marks. “I think we need to get down to business.”
***
At some point, someone had decided that the best way to build a secure meeting room was to cover all the walls in glass so that anyone could peer in. Lyra swung back on her chair as she half-listened to Commander Derpy reeling off various boring projects M.A.R.E was undertaking whilst there was a lack of super villain activity. Watching what was going on outside was far more interesting. Several low-grade technicians were carefully manuvering deactivated Lunatron robots across the floor. In their ‘off’ state they didn’t look that dangerous at all, just large blocky pony-sized robots, crudely built in a likeness of the Princess of the Night herself. At many times in the past Lyra had found herself on the wrong end of one of their lasers, but with the threat of Nightmare Moon now over, they were being collected in the basement and reprogrammed to serve M.A.R.E.
Lyra was suspicious of such endeavours. To her, ‘we’re going to develop an exciting new robot task force’ was code for ‘soon you’ll all be out of a job’.
As Lyra stared at the large vidscreen mounted on the back wall, she wondered whether Commander Derpy would let her run some Blake’s 7 video nights so she could teach everyone else the error of their ways. Of course she would have to get hold of Blake’s 7 videos first. She had never seen any for sale, but was sure there would be a large and healthy market for such things. Dimly she was aware of a stuttering Octavia trying to explain to Derpy why she couldn’t install Google Ultron on all of M.A.R.E’s computers. Finally after a lot of pressure she relented, and for some reason just buried her head in her hooves.
“And now, S.O.M.B.R.A’s second in command,” Derpy turned to the video screen which flickered into life, showing the contents of one of the many containment cells far below in the base’s underbelly. Rook, the chief underling of King Sombra, and head operative of what was Equestria’s most feared terrorist organisation sat brooding, his chromed face reflecting off the camera.
Lyra sat bolt upright in her chair. “He’s got a metal head!” she pointed out, rather needlessly. “Did you uh, find out if it was a mask or not. Because Bon-Bon said it was a mask, but when he speaks his lips move, so it totally couldn’t be a mask…”
Derpy shrugged. “Does it matter? We’ve been pumping him for information, but he’s not giving it up easily. We know there’s no more Crystal Pony mechs left, but we’re sure there’s still at least a dozen or so Terror Tanks dotted about in hiding. It won’t do him much good, because for all intents and purposes the S.O.M.B.R.A organisation is broken, we think he’s just playing for time. We do know more about him though. He used to be a weapons dealer from Scotland, started small with peashooters and catapults, and moved his way up to death rays and mecha. He-“
“Scottish?!” Lyra thumped the table excitedly. “Of course! Everyone knows the Scots are naturally evil! I knew there was something fishy about S.O.M.B.R.A, apart from, y’know, wanting to take over the world with giant crystal robots and stuff.”
“Lyra!” Bon-Bon hissed, smacking her friend around the head. “You can’t say that, it’s racist! Besides, King Sombra wasn’t Scottish, was he?”
Lyra rubbed her head ruefully. “S’not racist if it’s true,” she mumbled under her breath. And then, a bit louder: “What if he dyed his mane? It might have been ginger!”
“I’m sorry,” Bon-Bon gave a defeatist shrug to the rest of the group. “We think Lyra’s brain fell out during her ‘accident’.”
“Ah yes.” Derpy switched off the vidscreen and sat back down. “We need to talk about that too, your ah, cutie mark ‘situation.’”
Bon-Bon winced. Lyra looked as if she was about to cry again. She knew what was coming.
“Lyra,” Derpy said softly, leaning forwards. “Am I to believe your musical ability is impaired? Have we lost control of H.A.A.R.P?”
There was silence in the room as all eyes swivelled towards Lyra. Lyra’s eyes started to turn puffy and red. H.A.A.R.P. was the computer mainframe that sat at the heart of M.A.R.E. headquarters, a stunningly complex marvel of computer engineering which controlled every aspect of the base, from security to the prices on the vending machines. To make sure it was extra secure, Octavia had programmed the core systems to respond soley to a complex series of notes that only Lyra’s musical ability was prodigious enough to play.
“Mpf,” was all Lyra could manage, pointing at her cutie mark. “I uh….” She started to stutter, wiping her eyes slightly as if she wasn’t crying at all. “I could make sweets, I guess…”
“I see…” Derpy turned to Octavia. “Octavia, could you do some sort of computer thing and reset H.A.A.R.P.?”
Octavia grimly shook her head. “No ma’am, sorry. The core system is built so that it can only be accessed by a precise harmonic frequency that only Lyra can produce. I made sure of it myself, as you asked for it. As long as we don’t need to reset the system for any reason it shouldn’t be a problem, but it means until we can sort it out, we’ve lost the primary-“
Derpy raised a hoof. Octavia stopped.
“I mean,” Octavia cleared her throat. “No I can’t do a computer thing, but it doesn’t matter in the short run as long as we don’t need to change any settings.”
Derpy raised a hoof.
“Okay,” Octavia continued. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter in the short term.”
“Better,” Derpy smiled. “Bon-Bon, looks like you’re the new musical maestro if you’ve got all of Lyra’s talent.” She paused to let Lyra wail out again. “I want you down in the H.A.A.R.P control room playing that harp like your life depended on it. As it does.”
Lyra turned to glare at Bon-Bon through reddened, bitter eyes.
Bad Night 1
“Again!”
“No!” Bon-Bon threw her hooves into the air in a fit of pique. She had been sitting in the H.A.A.R.P. chamber for what seemed like half the night, with only Lyra’s harp and an increasingly grumpy Lyra for company. “I’m sorry Lyra; it’s not happening, okay? You get it?”
“Fine, yeah, waste my special skills!” Lyra scowled back. “It’s not like everyone’s relying on you or anything, Bon-Bon! It’s not like you’re squandering my abilities! It’s not like-“
“You do it then!” Bon-Bon pushed the harp in Lyra’s face. “If you think you’re so smart!”
“Well, maybe I will!” Lyra half-yelled at her friend, face reddening as her horn glowed with magic. The harp made a pained ‘sploing’ noise, and one of the springs broke. Without another word, she turned on her hoof and stormed out.
“Fine!” Bon-Bon shouted after her, screwing her face in distaste as she looked over the broken harp. As she calmed down, she poked her head out of the door. “Lyra? Hey, I’m sorry. Lyra?”
But Lyra was gone.
Bon-Bon knew she should go after her friend.
But she also knew she had work to do.
Bad Night 2
“Yes, it’s deserted all right.”
Trixie kept close to the walls as she crept into the underground hanger. As a M.A.R.E agent, she expected a certain degree of danger and excitement with each mission, but she didn’t like to push her luck. Tonight though, she had struck gold. Before her was what remained of a S.O.M.B.R.A base, completely deserted apart from row upon row of brand new Terror Tanks. Some of them even had that little plastic coating still on the windows.
“Okay,” Octavia’s voice hissed into her headset from M.A.R.E HQ. “Get what you need and get out, we’ll send a full team in later to secure the place!”
“Trixie knows what she is doing!” Trixie muttered back, heading deeper into the base. There was something strange on one of the walls, something that caught her attention. One of the monitor screens was still active, its grainy display showing a large, white circle.
She stood in front of the screen for a few moments, eyes adjusting. Then she realised what it was. It wasn’t a circle. It was the moon. “Base, come in!” she hissed into her microphone. “I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but- ” She was cut off by the heavy tread of a hoof behind her.
She wheeled, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “But – but I thought you were – “
“Yeah,” the figure smiled. “Ever been had?”
A shot rang out.
A moment later, a hoof gently picked up Trixie’s headset and smashed it into the floor.
Bad Night 3
Nurse Redheart sat slumped in her chair in the infirmary, a half empty bottle of whisky laying before her on the desk. She sipped it as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.
“No, no, I get it,” she grumbled into the receiver. “I just want to say, thank you. For the money. Celestia knows I need it now. It was just, such an odd request, and from you, of all ponies. Cutie Mark transplantation isn’t the sort of thing that’s done on the books, if you know what I mean, I just don’t get…” She paused as the voice interrupted. “No, no, of course not. I won’t tell anyone it was you.”
She took another sip of the whisky. It tasted funny.
Nurse Redheart toppled to the floor, taking half the contents of her desk with her. A particularly memorable snowglobe dashed itself to pieces next to her head, but it didn’t matter anymore.
“No,” the voice on the line said. “No, you won’t.”
Bad Night 4
“What is it?”
Starry Night shook the box in his hooves. “I don’t know. No-one ever sends mail here anymore, but it’s an internal one! Hoof-delivered!”
At one point, when the crazed Princess Luna had been terrorizing Metropony City with her army of Lunatrons, the M.A.R.E observatory had been a veritable hive of activity. There was always something going on, some new plot that needed a super-powered telescope pointed at it. Now though, it was just Starry Night and Comet, whiling away their time waiting for their pensions to kick in and playing cards. With all the bad guys gone, soon, they felt, that would be the fate of the whole M.A.R.E organisation; they were just getting the practice in first.
“Open it then!” Comet snatched at the box, but Starry Night kept it out of the way of his subordinate.
“I’m in charge!” he turned his nose up, angled the box away from Comet, and carefully tore the wrapping off. “Ooh!” he exclaimed.
“What is it?” Comet peered round Starry Night’s shoulder. “Oh! Sweets! Hey, give me one!” She lunged a hoof into the packet greedily.
And then the observatory was no more.
Bad Night 5
Octavia paused beneath the gigantic head of the Crystal Emperor as it hung suspended in M.A.R.E headquarters. She knew she needed to get back to work, all hell was about to break loose. But there was something about that sad, lonely robot head that had once held Equestria to ransom in a grip of terror, which now hung disembowelled at the mercy of its enemies, a gutted remain of the technological marvel it once was. Its master dead and gone. Alone.
She blinked back a tear. No, she wasn’t going to cry. Not for that.
She hurried off in the direction of the Comms centre. Commander Derpy would want to know about Trixie.
Bad Night 6
Rook sat in his cell. He did not sleep. Some of the guards swore he never slept, though perhaps he did, under his mask. If it even was a mask. M.A.R.E knew they had won. They knew they had killed King Sombra. They knew that had broken the S.O.M.B.R.A organisation. They knew nothing.
They had no idea about the queen.
The thing that could have been a mask cracked into a silver smile. All things came to those who waited.
And he had waited so very long.
Bad Night 7
Far, far above the sleeping Metropony City, the moon hung, bright and clear, its dusty, pitted surface laying undisturbed and serene.
For the moment.
Whatever Happened To The Mares Of Tomorrow?
“At first, we thought it was crystal.”
Lyra shivered as she listened to Derpy, looking up at what remained of the M.A.R.E observatory. The entire building, from the foundations to the top of the telescope was encased in a strange orange transparent substance. Around them, various M.A.R.E. technicians were drilling into it. The substance came away easily in crumbling shards, but that was no condolence to the bodies of Starry Night and Comet, which lay on the ground covered in black bags.
“But it’s not, is it?” Lyra queried. She knew the answer.
“No.” Derpy wrinkled her nose. “It’s some sort of sugar-based substance. I thought maybe now you have a, uh, confectionary cutie mark, Har- uh, Sweetflanks, you could…”
Lyra sighed. “It doesn’t work that way.” She trotted up to the glass-like structure anyway, and gave it an experimental lick. It was sweet. Obviously. She turned back to Derpy. “So we’ve got a new super villain in town? Do we know who they are yet?”
Derpy shook her head grimly. “No. And…” She drew closer. “And I don’t think it’s a new super villain. We found this inside.” She produced a crumpled, torn packet. “It was detonated from here. This is internal M.A.R.E mail. No-one in the public knows this is a M.A.R.E base. And we lost some agents last night, Lyra. Some haven’t reported back, some… we found. It’s an inside job.”
“An…” Lyra furrowed her brow. “An inside job? I can’t believe that for a moment.” She licked her lips again. No, there was something. Something familiar. “Irn Bru!” she yelped out. “It tastes of Irn Bru, Derpy! That’s a Scottish sweet! It’s made in Scotland! From girders!” She grabbed Derpy by the hooves, shaking her violently. “It’s just like I said, it’s the Scottish, they’re behind it all! We’ve got to check everyone who works at M.A.R.E! Search the lockers for bagpipes! Look for deep-fat fryers! Check to see if any dresses aren’t secretly kilts! We’ve gotta-”
Derpy slapped her across the face. Lyra stopped, her face a mask of surprise before toppling backwards to land in a heap on the floor.
“I uh, got a bit carried away, yeah.” Lyra slowly rose, rubbing her chin.
“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” Derpy replied, but she didn’t smile. “Go home. Have a rest. I’m recalling all agents to M.A.R.E headquarters, we’ll get this sorted out, they won’t get away with it. Hopefully Bon-Bon will have got H.A.A.R.P working by now.” Derpy walked off to talk to some of the technicians, leaving Lyra alone.
To Lyra, it seemed that whoever it was had already gotten away with it. She looked at the shards of candied building that loomed above her. Who could possibly create such confectionary carnage like that if not a demented Scotspony? And how was Bon-Bon getting on?
An unwanted thought crept into Lyra’s head. She pushed it away. She was tired, she hadn’t slept all night. A quick rest would make everything better.
***
“If I cannot triumph, then you shall all die; this I command!” The rich, booming voice of King Sombra echoed from within the Crystal Emperor as the mighty mech hovered above Metropony City, its horn glowing with a strange black light.
It was the last stand of S.O.M.B.R.A, exactly as Lyra remembered from all those months ago. The city below lay in chaos, the scattered remnants of Crystal Pony mechs covering the streets. They had taken one last desperate gamble after their sun sphere had failed, and the dice had come up snake eyes. M.A.R.E had won. They had fought back and beaten the enemy on equal terms, which is why what was happening felt to Lyra so unfair.
“He’s going to do it!” she urgently screeched into the communication system of her mech. Only her and Bon-Bon were still standing, their mighty pony-shaped pastel war machines perched broken, battered, but triumphant amongst the debris. “He’s going to use his black hole power unit to blow the whole of Metropony City to kingdom come, out of sheer spite!
“Not if I can help it!” Bon-Bon’s mech started to speed up, bounding over buildings, not caring if a chunk of rubble smashed off from the impact of one of her mighty hooves.
“I don’t – oh!” Lyra suddenly understood, tugging at her control harness to force her mech to follow Bon-Bon. It unsteadily moved, gears grinding away in agony as she ran. Above her, the Crystal Emperor hovered like a vast, predatory bird, summoning up all its dark energy for one final, desperate bid.
“Are you sure about this, I mean, oooh!” Lyra winced as Bon-Bon didn’t stop, swerving her mech-suit to the side as fifty feet of robot pony collided with the wall of the paint factory, spraying rubble and glass everywhere. That was nothing compared to the effect a black hole would have on the city though. She wasn’t sure exactly what that would be, but it couldn’t be anything nice.
Lyra followed through the hole Bon-Bon had made, diving after her friend into the huge vat of mirrorlon paint that had been destined to supply the world’s supply of funfair mirrors. “You sure about this?” She radioed to Bon-Bon as she clambered out. “I mean uh, I’m not sure that’s how science works?”
“A black hole sucks in light, so it’s gotta be full of light,” came the frankly unconvincing reply. “I can’t see why it couldn’t work. At the very least, there’s nothing to lose.”
Lyra paused at her controls for a moment. Leaping both their shiny mechs into the path of the black hole ray would at least make any ending less painful. “Fine then. Together.” She smiled.
“Together.”
She remembered King Sombra’s cry of triumph as his deadly beam descended onto the city, remembered the blind, sprawling fear she felt as she leapt her mech into the path of the beam, bolstered only by the sheer confidence of Bon-Bon. She remembered Sombra’s victory turn into a yell of sheer terror as the beam reflected back onto his own mech. She remembered his last words, a vow of revenge from beyond the grave.
She remembered sitting atop the head of her battered mech with Bon-Bon, leaning against her friend as she drank the last of a very nice vintage that she had saved for a special occasion. She remembered looking out across the remains of the smoking city, and cracking a wry joke.
What she did not remember was how Bon-Bon had hugged her, stood up, smiled, and said, “Thanks Lyra. I’m just popping off now to betray your trust and murder all your friends!”
Lyra awoke in a sweat, bed sheets wrapped around her. Somehow she had fallen out of bed and onto the floor. She raced to the sink to gulp down mouthful after mouthful of water. No, that wasn’t how it happened, of course not. Just a bad dream.
Of course it wasn’t Bon-Bon. Not clever, smart, brave, wonderful Bon-Bon. Someone else was behind this. Someone else equally clever and smart and resourceful. Outside, the sun was going down. She had slept all afternoon. Perhaps back at base Derpy had managed to uncover who the traitor really was.
She glanced at the newspaper. The headline was some terrible story about how Pobama was trying to take all the guns away. Her eyes were caught by a smaller advert, tucked in the bottom corner. Yes, that was where she needed to go. This was fate.
Without another look back at the mess that was her room, Lyra flung on a coat at random to protect against the evening chill, and headed out.
She had to go to the theatre.
***
The door to the cell slid open. Rook looked up.
She was there. His queen. Behind her, he could see the guards. They looked like they were asleep. He knew better. “Is it time?” he asked, a slight quaver in his voice. “Is it finally time?”
“It is the time of the twilight," his mistress murmured. "When the great battles were over and the great miracles long since performed. The tale of how their enemies conspired against them, and of that final war."
"My queen?" Rook tilted his head to the side in puzzlement.
"Oh, nothing." Queen Sombra gave a strangely sad smile. "You should read more. You have your orders." She turned and swept out of the empty cell without another word.
Rook nodded to himself. This was going to be a good night.
***
The moon rose gracefully above Metropony City, its soft light rippling over the quiet streets and houses. The dusty surface of the moon glowed with cold life. Calm, still, unmoving.
Somewhere from down below, a signal was sent.
The dusty skin of the moon exploded in a flurry of rubble as something rose from beneath the surface. A pair of eyes, each three feet across blazed into life. A large crystalline hoof pulled itself up. Then another. And another.
All around, from crater to crevasse, the army of the Crystal Ponies awoke from their long slumber. The S.O.M.B.R.A pilots inside had no need to make any last minute adjustments, they had been watching and waiting and preparing for this moment for so very long. A dozen silently reared from the dusty surface. Then two dozen. Then more.
M.A.R.E had been right. There were no Crystal Ponies left in Equestria.
They wouldn’t be right for much longer.
***
If there was one thing Dewdrop Dazzle liked most about acting in the theatre, it was the moment she got to get off stage, pick up her cheque and go home. Sure, there was the regular hassle of the stage door, where actors were expected to sign a few autographs for the fillies and pretend to be interested by some pseudo-intellectual discussion from self-appointed critics, but she was used to that.
What she wasn’t used to was being accosted the moment she opened the door by a maniacal-looking green pony in a strange jacket, who grabbed and half-wrestled her to the ground.
“GAUDA PRIME!” Lyra screamed into Dewdrop’s face, eyes staring wildly. “HOW DID YOU ESCAPE GAUDA PRIME?” She started to shake Dewdrop hard. “I’VE GOT TO KNOW!”
“What?” Dewdrop struggled under her attacker momentarily, but she was pinned down hard. “What in Celestia’s name is a Gauda Prime?”
Lyra gave a hurt twitch. “Wha – you know! Gauda Prime!” She let go of Dewdrop and backed away slightly, a small amount of embarrassed self-awareness returning to her. “Y-you killed Blake and everyone else died and you were surrounded by guards and they were about to shoot and then you smiled and then it just faded to black and it was the end of the episode and they never made any more, and you just can’t end a television show like that, and… and…” Her bottom lip started to wobble. She was six years old all over again.
“Oh. What?” Dewdrop frowned. “You’re talking about Blake’s 7? That was years ago, and uh, it’s just a television show, you know? No need to get all worked up, it’s not real!”
“I know that!” Lyra snapped back, a bit too quickly. She rubbed her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s just… it’s important, you know? Stuff like that’s important, and I’ve been through quite a bit lately and I’ve been thinking about it more and more, and I just needed to know…” She trailed off. “It’s dumb. Sorry. You probably get asked that a lot.”
“Oh yeah, constantly.” The real answer was ‘never’, but this slightly crazed pony didn’t need to hear that right now. Dewdrop sat down on the theatre step, patting on the stone beside her for Lyra to sit down. “I mean, they never made another series, so I dunno.” She shrugged. “I always thought Hayvon would have karate-chopped her way out of it. That’s why I did that smile at the end, I was thinking of how I was about to chop them all.” She made a few chopping motions with her hoof to demonstrate.
Lyra sat down heavily, and stared up at the night sky for a few moments. Then she frowned. “But there were loads of guards, you couldn’t have karate chopped them all!”
“Well, maybe I’d have done some judo kicks too.” Dewdrop rolled her eyes. “I’m not a writer, I just did what the script said. I mean, Blake was definitely dead, because of all the blood. She put that in her contract, Autumn Mist did. She said she’d only appear again if she was definitely killed off forever, so she could go and follow her dreams to become a real, classical actor. You never saw blood on anyone else, so they could have said they were just stunned.” She tapped her nose. “That’s how television works, you see. Actor availability.”
“Oh. I always thought there was some sort of plan.” Lyra grimaced, looking at Dewdrop and then away, into the dark streets with their flickering neon signs. “And did she become a real, classical actor?”
Dewdrop shrugged. “I dunno. I did see a video starring her in the bargain bin called ‘Attack of the Unconvincing Rubber Space-Turnip, so yeah, I guess if they had made another series and thrown money at her, she’d have come crawling back.”
“But Blake was dead!” Lyra screeched, scandalised. “There was blood and everything!”
Dewdrop sighed. “It’s television, dear. The rules of reality shelve themselves when there’s thirteen fifty-minute episodes to make a year and money involved. Maybe it was fake blood and all a trick. Maybe she just got better. Maybe it was a clone. M-“
“Blake was cloned in season 2 episode 3!” Lyra gasped in wonder, her eyes shining. “S-so there was a plan all along!”
“Yeah, no. Uh…” Dewdrop shook her head. “Okay, see, as of the end of the show, they’re all dead apart from Hayvon, right? And Hayvon’s probably about to die. That’s how it ends. But if they wanted to make another series, then suddenly that’s not how it happens at all. It’s just… television. You see?”
Lyra nodded, trying to process this inrush of information. “So… could Travis still be aliv-“
“Whoa!” Dewdrop held up a hoof. “Gotta stop you there. Nope. Just gotta stop you.” She trailed off as a glint from above caught her eye. “Huh. Moon’s bright tonight.”
Lyra followed her gaze upwards. The moon was very bright. Too bright. And there were small specks breaking away from it, dancing in the night sky like fireflies. Getting bigger and closer. “Oh no,” she breathed. “Oh no.”
Lyra ran.
***
“THERE’S DOZENS OF THEM, COMING FROM THE MOON!” Octavia swung around in her chair, wild-eyed at Derpy. The M.A.R.E command centre almost froze at that point, all eyes on the blips that seemed to multiply faster and faster on the vidscreens.
“Show me satellite coverage.” Derpy carefully put down the muffin she had been saving all day and watched. The screen fizzed into life to show the inky blackness of space. Then a flare of rocket exhausts and the form of a huge crystalline mecha descending towards it. Then the screen went dead.
“Everyone to action stations. Full alert!” Derpy smacked a button, and immediately the base was deafened by the sound of a thousand klaxons blaring at once. “Those aren’t Pobama or the Scottish. They’re S.O.M.B.R.A Crystal Ponies! They’ve been hiding there all the time. But why?!” She thumped the desk. The muffin flew off into Carrot Top’s waiting mouth. “Show me the prisoner!”
The screens flickered onto the view of the prison cell where once Rook had sat. It was empty, the door hanging open.
“Maximum security!” Derpy started to march around the command room. “Seal all bulkheads; we’ve got to buy ourselves some time! Octavia, if Bon-Bon hasn’t got H.A.A.R.P running, I want you to do what you can with the defence systems. We’re low on agents, high on technical staff. I want everyone with a gun. Carrot Top, do whatever it is that you do. Vinyl, I want those Lunatron robots in the basement up and running and working for us as soon as possible. We need the edge.”
Derpy sighed as she watched the blips on the radar multiply and descend. What they really needed was Harpflank and Sweets.
***
“Come on, come on!” Lyra half-screamed at the lift as it slowly rumbled down into the underbelly of M.A.R.E headquarters. She was late, she should be there already preparing to defend Metropony City, she should be at Bon-Bon’s side.
Another grim thought snatched at her. If she had been at Bon-Bon’s side, maybe this would never have happened.
She took a minute to compose herself in the mirror that lined the lift’s walls, doing her best to slick her mane back into some sort of presentable fashion. She winced at the rather tasteless coat she had pulled from the floor before leaving for the night. It was black faux-pvc with metal studs, and had probably been fashionable when roller-disco was cool. “How long have I been walking about in this?” she groaned inwardly. Still though, if there was a fight about to happen, it was better protection than nothing.
Suddenly the lights in the lift dimmed a low, pulsing red and the emergency signal began to blare out. “It’s started!” she squeaked to herself, smacking the wall in frustration. “C’mon you pile of junk!”
There was a thump above her. And then another thump. And the groaning of metal on metal. Lyra’s face paled. Someone had ordered the emergency shutters closed to entirely seal the base off from the surface. This was all well and good, only the lift was descending from the surface.
Descending on a very thin metal wire.
With a sharp ‘sproing’ the first shutter fully closed, severing the wire that held the lift up. Lyra was immediately flung into the air as it lurched violently, hurtling downwards at terminal velocity. “Oh come on!” Lyra screamed to the heavens, peeling herself from the ceiling and battering at the sealed doors.
The wind was whistling all around her ears. With a pre-emptive wince, Lyra jammed her horn into the crack of the door, pushing with all her might until it juddered open. With a final gulp at the rapidly approaching ground, Lyra leapt out of the doors, rolling away from the lift as it smashed into the floor in a mighty explosion.
She clutched her aching head, laying sprawled in the pot plant that had broken her fall. “Ugh. That shouldn’t have worked,” she groaned, unsteadily getting to her hooves and starting to run again. There wasn’t much time.
***
The mammoth forms of the Crystal Ponies flocked around Metropony City like shining locusts. Buildings exploded in showers of rubble as their mighty hooves slammed into the ground, scattering screaming, fleeing ponies everywhere.
All around the city, civilians hid in their houses, waiting for Harpflank and Sweets to come and save them. But this time, there was no sign of M.A.R.E.
The S.O.M.B.R.A pilots inside the Crystal Ponies ignored Metropony City, for the most part. Wanton destruction and robbery could come later. First, there was a job to do. The unicorn models hit the ground first, their vast crystal tails swinging back and forth, demolishing anything in their way until all that was left was rubble. Then the heads locked down, and their mighty horns began to spin, spearing the ground and drilling deep. If M.A.R.E thought it was safe in its underground base, it was wrong.
***
Rook marched with purpose through the under-basement of M.A.R.E headquarters, his heart swelling with pride as he heard the sirens wail urgently. Every so often he would stop at a terminal and activate a specific failsafe. The Lunatron robots stood deactivated in neat rows in the basement, like a crude high-tech parody of a clay army.
“Stop right there!”
Rook paused momentarily as two M.A.R.E guards stepped out of the shadows, weapons raised. In the red flashing half-light, they looked more afraid than menacing. Sometimes, Rook mused, you just knew when your number was up.
“O-okay, just stand there and we’ll have no trouble!” the first guard stuttered, moving forwards, her blaster wavering slightly. “I don’t know what you were trying to do here, but it’s too late.”
“Yes, yes it is,” Rook smiled, tilting his head to the legion of Lunatrons that stood silently in their storage bay. “Kill them all.”
As one, the lights on the Lunatrons blazed into life, stiff metal limbs bringing weapons to bear on the hapless guards.
Rook walked away without a second glance as the dum-dum of ballistic weaponry filled the air behind him. Then the Lunatrons began to move through the M.A.R.E complex, slowly making their way upwards.
***
“The Crystal Ponies have penetrated armoured shutter eighteen!” Octavia gazed wide-eyed at the display, which showed a flashing representation of the base defences, layer upon layer of brightly coloured lights that signified the barriers that protected them from the world above. One by one they were going dim. “Seventeen!”
Derpy swallowed hard. The incessant noise of the klaxons and the strobing red emergency lights was starting to drive her nuts. Everyone who could carry a gun was armed, even the humble cleaners. There was nothing they could do though. Nothing but wait.
“Lunatrons activated!” Vinyl swung around in her chair in panic. “They’re active ma’am!”
Derpy wiped her brow. “Well, that’ll give us some additional fi-“
“No, no, you don’t understand!” Vinyl leapt to her hooves, clutching her rifle to her chest. “I-I didn’t activate them! Someone else did! They’re uh, making their way up from the basement!”
Derpy breathed hard. In the distance, she could hear the dull thudding of gunfire. It seemed to be getting closer. “Everyone, cover all exits!” she snapped, before leaning over Octavia’s shoulder. “Octavia, if there’s anything you can do, do it now. H.A.A.R.P. can control them, right? That’s one of the things it’s for!”
Octavia typed wildly into her console, flooding the screen with line upon line of incomprehensible text. “Yeah, but it’s still not active! Without Bon-Bon to play the release frequencies, we can’t control it, I….” She yelped and started typing even more furiously. “I-it’s being hacked, ma’am. Someone’s hacking H.A.A.R.P, from inside the base!”
Derpy stared in dumb bemusement at the screen. There were all sorts of things scrolling down it. She didn’t understand even one of them. “Can’t you do an uh… thing? You know. A computer thing?”
“I’m trying, I… oh!” Octavia tapped another few keys and threw her hooves up in frustration. At once, all of the screens gave a final ‘bloop’ and went dead. “That’s it,” she whispered, voice shaking as she started to hyperventilate. “The whole defence grid’s offline. And if Bon-Bon can’t work out how to play the musical lock, then we can’t get it back!”
Above them came the sounds of rending metal as the Crystal Ponies began to tear through the now powerless bulkheads at speed. Below them came the unstoppable marching noise of the Lunatrons and the screaming of the unfortunate M.A.R.E personnel who got in their way.
With an almighty crash, the ceiling exploded, the tip of a whirring crystal horn stabbing through and sending jagged chunks of metal everywhere. “Run!” Derpy screamed over the cacophony. “We’ll regroup on level 5!”
***
Lyra slumped through the corridors, stopping every so often to clutch at her head. The fall had obviously done more damage than she had thought. Everything was spinning, not helped by the constant whining of the alarms and the strobing lights that filled the base. She wanted to lie down, to sleep, but knew that any such rest would be fatal.
Every so often, the sound of running firefights filled her ears, but she was in no position to help anyone. She clutched the shotgun she had taken from a fallen guard, quickly ducking into an alcove to avoid being spotted by a Lunatron that rumbled past, its twin Gatling guns firing away at anyone unlucky enough to be present.
“Celestia’s beard,” she muttered to herself, slapping a hoof across her cheeks to keep herself alert. When the coast was clear she started down the corridor again, sweat dripping down her forehead as she steeled herself. Finally, with a gulp, she reached the H.A.A.R.P chamber and threw open the door.
“Bon-Bon?”
With a terrible sinking feeling, she realised it was empty.
“No no no!” Lyra started to thump her head into the wall in frustration, her hooves shaking heavily. It wasn’t fair, not like this. She stopped, panting again. There had to be another explanation. Bon-Bon wouldn’t abandon her duty. Someone else must have overridden the H.A.A.R.P protocols. Someone else must have been in such a position of trust to know exactly the right moment to bring M.A.R.E to its knees. Not Bon-Bon. Anyone but Bon-Bon.
“Level 5! Level 5! We make our stand on level 5!”
Derpy’s voice crackled urgently over the loudspeakers, before being cut off with a hiss. Lyra gripped her weapon tighter, and ran out of the door. One way or another, she would see this through.
***
Carrot Top scampered through the base like a rabbit in hunting season, darting over ruined sparking equipment and the fallen bodies of her comrades. She was sure she should be helping somehow, but all her body wanted to do was run and cry and run some more.
It was because of this that she nearly ran slap-bang into Bon-Bon.
And the two armed Lunatrons that flanked her.
“Oh, Carrot Top!” Bon-Bon smiled a wide smile at her. “Don’t worry; these two are under my control.”
“I uh…” Carrot Top stared between Bon-Bon and the Lunatrons, eyes quivering with fear. She skidded backwards on her hindquarters, turned, and ran back the way she came.
“What, no!” Bon-Bon yelled back at the fleeing Carrot Top. “I finally got the right frequencies, but it only works on a localised level! We can do this, honest, but we’ve got to get to the- ”. It was too late. Carrot Top had rounded a corner and scampered off. She looked up at the two Lunatrons. “What are you waiting for? Get after her!”
***
Derpy stood on level 5 in the middle of a worryingly small group of M.A.R.E personnel. Less and less were filtering in, and she could hear the crackle of Lunatron gunfire getting ever closer.
“Don’t be scared,” she announced over the droning sirens. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. It’s –“
“They’re here!” A side-door burst open and Vinyl Scratch half-flew down the stairwell. Her glasses were broken and her right forehoof badly scorched. “S.O.M.B.R.A has broken through above; they’re starting to pour down! It’s a real mess up there, Tavi and I got split up, but she’s gonna try and make it down the air ducts!”
“Right. Right. Well.. barricade the door.” Derpy pointed towards the open door. “If anyone has a bright idea, now would be the time to speak up.”
“We find the traitor,” a voice mumbled from behind.
Derpy spun round to be greeted by the sight of a bedraggled Lyra, clutching a shotgun to her chest as if her life depended on it. “What the – what are you wearing?” she frowned.
Lyra looked down woozily at her studded jacket. “Oh. Yeah. Well, roller disco is coming back in a big way, and I’m just getting a head start, you know?” She hefted her gun, looking around the room in concern. “Is… is this really everyone?”
“Not yet,” Vinyl shook her head. “There’s still more of us out there, I hope!” she finished hefting a large cabinet across the entrance to the stairwell. It wouldn’t hold a determined assault force for long, and there were so many more ways in.
“Lyra! Lyra!” Carrot Top screamed at the top of her lungs as she hurtled down a nearby corridor, almost barrelling into the green pony. “I mean, Harpflank! I mean uh, Harps! I mean Lyra!” She shrunk meekly back, twitching from side to side in a fluster. “It’s her! She’s the traitor, Lyra!”
“What? What are you talking about?” That same sinking feeling started in Lyra’s stomach again. She did her best to ignore it. “Spit it out, Carrot Top!”
Carrot Top gulped hard. “It's Bon-Bon!” She whimpered. “She sold us out, Lyra! All of us! Even you!” Her eyes widened and she let out a moan, skittering behind Derpy for protection.
Silence hit the room as all eyes turned to follow Carrot Top’s terrified gaze. Bon-Bon stood in one of the doorways, flanked by two large, imposing Lunatrons.
Lyra’s mouth dropped open. Her stomach finally fell into one yawning pit. “Is it true?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Lyra, it’s me, Bon-Bon!” Bon-Bon waved a hoof up in a calming gesture as she stepped forwards, but Lyra lifted her gun in one panicked motion.
“Stand still!” Lyra wiped the sweat that was pouring down her brow. The thrumming of the alarms was too much for her. She could feel her heart pounding way too fast in her chest, her legs were about to give way at any moment. “Have… have you betrayed us?” Her voice quavered, breaking into a whisper. “Have you betrayed me?”
“Carrot doesn’t understand!” Bon-Bon snapped back. She took another step forwards.
Lyra’s gun wavered uncertainly. “Neither do I!” She felt six years old again, frightened and defenceless, the world dropping out from beneath her hooves.
Bon-Bon shook her head quickly. “No! I’ve got control of H.A.A.R.P!” She pointed back towards the two Lunatrons. “They obey me! I set all this up!”
“Yes! Yes you did!” As Bon-Bon stepped forwards again, Lyra brought her gun up and with the barest flicker of magic from her horn, pulled the trigger. The shot cracked like a whip across the stunned room, and Bon-Bon gasped in shock at the bloody stain that spread across her chest.
“Lyra…” She took another step forwards.
Lyra pulled the trigger again, almost as in a dream. The shot echoed in her head, mixing with the klaxons into an almost strange silence. There was blood. A lot of blood. “I…”
Bon-Bon pulled herself forwards and then slumped into Lyra’s outstretched hooves, looking up at her friend in a mixture of disbelief, shock and pity. “Lyra…” she hissed through clenched teeth. There was just a hint of annoyance.
And then she was gone.
Everyone was silent. No-one could speak or even move as the scene played out in front of them. That couldn’t have just happened. Bon-Bon’s Lunatrons stood uselessly, waiting for orders they would never receive.
Lyra held the heavy form of Bon-Bon, sudden realisation flooding over her. She was so limp in her hooves. There was blood staining her coat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She didn’t care as she heard the gunfire intensify. She didn’t move as the marching of boots on steel got closer. She took no notice of the commotion as wave after wave of the enemy poured into the room. Because Bon-Bon was dead.
“Drop your weapons.” The order was barked out sharply at the remaining M.A.R.E agents. From below, the Lunatrons rumbled up the stairs and into the room, weapons swinging to bear. From above, black-suited S.O.M.B.R.A agents marched down to surround the survivors, guns ready for action.
Rook was there, standing at the forefront, smiling at Derpy with that terrible metal smile of his. And besides him, a familiar looking fully armoured figure.
“King Sombra!” Derpy gasped, the grip on her own weapon loosening, as around her M.A.R.E surrendered to the enemy. “ But… but you died! We all saw you!”
“Oh yes, he died. You saw to that, didn’t you?” The figure lifted off its battle helmet, to reveal a shock of fiery-orange mane.
“But…” Vinyl blinked, rubbing her eyes in bewilderment. “You! Why?”
“Because,” Octavia sneered as she held her battle helmet in her hooves, surveying the trembling remains of M.A.R.E, and the grief-stricken form of Lyra. “My name isn’t Octavia. It’s McTavia. Of the clan Sombra. King Sombra was my father, and you killed him!” Her eyes narrowed in hatred. “It was hell hiding amongst you, having to dye my magnificent ginger mane to remain undetected, unable to deep-fry any food for fear of discovery. But thank you, M.A.R.E. Thank you for defeating Luna and Discord, giving S.O.M.B.R.A free reign. Thank you for kindly entrusting me with all your secrets and handing over your base to me.”
Lyra could hear Octavia talking. She could see it was almost over. The alarms carried on sounding, piercing through her mind. She didn’t care. She held onto her friend for as long as she could, until her weakened hooves let Bon-Bon drop onto the floor. That was all that mattered now. Because Bon-Bon was dead.
“But why!” Derpy cried. “What can possibly be worth all this?”
A feverish fire glowed in Octavia’s eyes. “Scottish independence!” she hissed. “And keeping the Bit as currency! With M.A.R.E destroyed and S.O.M.B.R.A in control, Pobama and his socialist lapdogs will have no option but to grant our every wish!”
“You’re mad, babe!” Vinyl stepped forwards. “This is crazy talk, they’re not gonna let you keep the Bit in a currency union if you go independent; you’ve gotta devolve that to-“
She was cut off as Octavia fired, collapsing in a heap like a puppet with the strings cut. “Don’t call me babe,” Octavia muttered, turning in one swift motion and walking away. “Dispose of them,” she called back dismissively. “I’ve got work to do.”
Lyra continued to stare at Bon-Bon’s face. She looked so peaceful and serene. Lyra just stood there, the thumping of her heart filling her ears until it was all she could hear. Out of the corner of her eye she was dimly aware of Derpy reaching for her gun and receiving a laser blast for her trouble. Of Carrot Top screaming her lungs out before she was shot in the back. Of the last stand of M.A.R.E as they went down one by one to SO.M.B.R.A.
Then, there was only one left.
She looked at Bon-Bon one last time, lifting her head to see the S.O.M.B.R.A agents and Lunatron robots that surrounded her, their guns at the ready. She slowly turned around in a full circle, the flickering red alarm lights still flashing their eerie shadows across the room, noting that she was completely surrounded.
Suddenly, everything seemed so peaceful.
She stood with care over the body of her friend in one final stance of defiance. She lifted her weapon. The enemy lifted theirs.
Lyra smiled.
Fade to black.
