Meaningless Murder Pony Portal Pals

by SpiritDutch

Rating: mature
Tags: Human, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 19969

Escaping from their desolate future world, the ponies of Equestria pass through a portal into Medieval Europe. To avoid the brewing conflict, one pony and one human must either discover what could bring the two species together, or subjugate them.

In the distant future, Equestria has died. The earth has been scoured clean of resources. The air is polluted and the land is burned by war. Only traces of ponykind are left, buried deep underground in the massive arcologies of the Arranged Restoration.

Four hundred years after the end of life on the surface, a new home for ponykind is discovered. The only problem is that it is already inhabited. The humans of the year 1081, already embroiled in the vast conflict known as the Crusades, are met by a new and hostile force. Though few in number, the ponies are far more advanced.

The pony who saved her kind once already is faced with with a new problem: What could it take to end the bloodshed, and bring peace to her species?
A human, caught between old and new loyalties, is faced with an impossible challenge: How can the ponies be made to respect human life when they fear for their own so greatly?

*Not a Fallout Equestria fic. Think of it more like a 12 Monkeys inspired world.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-29 07:41:26 UTC

Twilight I: The Old World

Consciousness. Such a wonderful thing, to be aware, to sense and understand. The fuzzy line between my dreams and reality washed away and the back of my eyelids greeted me as the first sense in my body.

The cold, stale air told me that I was laying exactly where I had fallen asleep, in the swivel chair deep underground. The whir of fan blades and the hum of electronics indicated that the facility was still operational.

Reaching out with my mind, I felt twenty ponies in the same room, ten to either side. Thousands more were in the greater vicinity, a mix of the three tribes. It was exactly as I had left it, and I could only assume that H.A.R.M. had been in continuous operation for as long as I had been sleeping.

A chirp sounded out from somewhere to my left. I heard the technician silence the alert and immediately begin to assess the situation. She cursed, and punching into her keyboard with it's usual clicks and clacks.

I opened my eyes. The bunker was dimly lit by the rows of blue screen terminals, each with their dedicated technician. Many were engaged with their terminals, reading down the reports streaming on from across the world. The agitated terminal was, however, a bright crimson, something the panicked tech was hastily trying to rectify.

I uncurled from the chair I had been sitting in, my joints popping as I stretched. All the techs stiffened as they heard me do so, trying their best to appear occupied. The metal floor of the bunked was cool against my hooves; I had been a while since I last moved.

The tech, noticing my approach, let out a fearful squeak. The terminal was still red, streaming lines of data demanding the attention of a pony of authority.

“What is this?” I questioned. The croak of my voice shocked me. These lips had not formed words in years.

“Sentinel!” She squeaked. “It is a tremendous honor to-”

“What is this?” I repeated, pointing to the terminal. I could hear what she had to say later.

A hiss of air, and the door at the end of the room opened. A pegasus in a long grey coat rushed in. He was raspberry red, with a long burgundy mane. He came within a pony's length, and bowed deeply.

“Sentinel, I never imagined that I would have the honor in my lifetime.” He said. “Allow me to welcome you back to Equestria.”

I could not guess what kind of legend had grown around me in the time I had slept, but it was vital to cut off any indication that I would be receptive to worship. However, I should not be rude.

“You are allowed.” I said. “Now, what is this?”

The tech was glancing between the general and me, confused. A harsh glance from the general sent him back to tending the terminal.

“Sentinel, did any of the watchers speak to you?” The general asked. “They are bound by duty to never stray from their task. If one is found lacking, they will be expelled from our-”

“Who are you?” I interrupted. “And who do you think I am?”

The general seemed to reassess his surroundings. Several of the techs stole glances us.

“I am Commandant Xill, ranking officer at H.A.R.M. I have led the ponies here for six years, since my father's death.” He said. “You are the eternal Sentinel of H.A.R.M, and the avatar of the Maneframe.”

“No, I am not. I am Twilight Sparkle.” I said. “And I want to know what this device is indicating.”

Xill's confusion was written on his face. “Twilight Sparkle? We have not heard of her. You... You are the Sentinel. You have been the Sentinel for countless generation. The Maneframe speaks through your body.”

Not today, she doesn’t.

“Sentinel was not an empty husk.” I said. “This body had life before the Maneframe. Now, Commandant Xill, tell me about this alert.”

I’m sure Xill would have found it more convenient to treat me like a particularly lively marionette doll, but I would not be deflected so easily. Weakly he looked at the terminal. “It's a warp signature. We receive them every time one of our asteroid miners return.”

“Why would something so mundane wake me up?” I asked. “Investigate further.”

“Yes, Sentinal.” Xill said. He reached into one of the pockets of his coat and pulled out a metallic cylinder and began fiddling with it. After a moment, the crimson terminal turned to the blue of all the others.

“Analysis will be examining the data immediately.” Xill assured me.

The name of Sentinel had a lot of authority around here, but I shouldn’t be content to wield her like a writ. I needed to see somepony who knew the details of this persona.

“Good, now take me to Maneframe.”

“Perhaps you would like to be show to your quarters first.” Xill said.

“I know where my executive quarters are. I lived here long before you did.” I snorted.

“Ah, yes, but…” Xill cleared his throat. “The executive quarters were commandeered, long ago.

I couldn’t expect him to know what had happened to my belongings afterwards. Some of it was in storage, but the stuff in my room had likely been distributed among other VIPs.

“Lead the way.” I said.

Nodding he turned and trotted out of the lab. It seemed based on how Xill had acted, the mundane task of watching the incoming reports from H.A.R.M.’s satellites had taken on an oddly religious aspect. Hopefully not everything here was so devolved.

-

The milky white metal of H.A.R.M.’s hallways were just as bright as the day they were installed. I had to admit, whatever dogma these ponies followed made for a very clean home.

H.A.R.M.’s layout was, if I may take a moment to brag, an inspired piece of art. Imagine a beehive, with the planes of each hex filling snugly against all the others. Imagine that beehive projected against a cross-section of the planet’s crust, with a wandering sequence of hex’s being the internal structures of the base. Imagine that in three dimensions, with every prime icosahedral core being connected to the surface by air shafts and a hanger silo. That was H.A.R.M, and underground pony hive as far from the surface as Canterlot was far from Manehattan.

Xill and I crossed up from the lab structure to a habitation structure. The ceiling lights above us splayed our shadows out on the floor and walls. I saw no ponies, and I speculated that it was sleeping hours here. I would have suspected it abandoned, but I felt the press of consciousness in the rooms around me.

Xill stopped and waved a hoof in front of one of the doors. It slid open with the hiss of compressed air. He stood aside while I entered. The lights snapped on as I trotted in, revealing utilitarian furnishing and unfamiliar art side by side. It seemed the ponies here had been making modifications to my aesthetic dictates.

As I passed futhor inside, my eyes witness a brief flash of purple. I turned to face it, and my first, uncomprehending thought was that somepony had assembled a skeleton in a connecting room. But it was a mirror, and what I was seeing was too horrible to be possible.

I looked like I had been weaved out of animated yarn, my every patch of fur rippling unnaturally. Purple skin was pulled tight over bone with no sign of muscle or fat. My feathers and hooves looked as if they were about to crumble into dust, so aged and cracked were they. I could not even see my eyes for the shadow of my overgrown mane. Two black sockets stared back at me, unblinkingly. I looked like a litch, an abomination which shouldn’t have existed.

I deflected my gaze, but a glance at my hooves corroborated the mirror. By body was mummified in appearance. My sleep had been anything but rejuvenating. I had atrophies horribly over the years. How I could move, or even live at all was mystery beyond any that could be comprehended.

“Somepony tried to tan my hide while it was still on my bones.” I said to Xill. I could handle this shock, and I tired to cope with humor.

He did not respond immediately, letting me look myself over in silence.

I sighed. “Well, I reached my target weight.”

“You look good for a mare a thousand years old.” Xill said.

I doubted that it had been that long, but I accepted the minor flattery.

“Thank you for the room, but I really should see Maneframe now.” I said.

Xill agreed, and led me back into the hall. “Your biometrics will be programed into the room’s system.” He noted as we trotted back downwards through the halls.

Half an hour of silent walking later, we reached a threshold, protected by a set of thick metal doors. These doors had not been here in my original design.

Xill stopped short. “This is as far as I will take you, Sentinal.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Maneframe is very… Shall I say reclusive?” Xill tapped a hoof. “If she opens that door for you, it will be for you alone.”

Only Maneframe can open this door? She shouldn’t be allowed to do that. She shouldn’t be allowed to seal herself off.

“How do you-”

I was cut off by a loud hiss, as the metal doors opened. Behind them was the day’s second unnerving surprise.

The thing immediately reminded me of a lilac changeling, the metal sheets comprising it’s frame were sharp and sleek. It was a robot, a mechanical pony, slightly taller than the average, with neither a horn nor wings. Instead of eyes, it had a single ring of six multicolored lighted bar which were at any given moment glowing brighter or softer in an incomprehensible sequence. Instead of ears, it had two antenna pointing backwards towards it’s serpentine metal tail.

“What are you?” I asked the robot.

“They’re mute.” Xill said, putting a hoof backwards as if to turn and run. “They only observe for Maneframe, and you are the one who speaks.”

The robot turned hoof and trotted up the hall. I gave Xill a glance and followed, the metal doors shutting behind me.

-

“Twilight, it's so good to see you!”

I was in a vertical shaft a hundred feet across, crossed and braced by catwalks and wires. At it's center was a towering cylindrical computer, it's purple casing dotted with blinking green lights. Maneframe had no console, and no access points. But she spoke to me, projecting her words into my mind.

“Hello, Maneframe.” I said this aloud. Maneframe’s mechanical daughter’s were all around me, acting as her eyes and ears. “Why have I awoken?”

“For the same reason all sleepers awake. It's time to act.” Maneframe explained, and the colored bars of the robots’ faces strobed. “Equestria has not gotten better in your absence. Ponykind is struggling to survive underground on the meager resources our miners bring back. It is as you feared: The continued exploitation of the planet has rendered it uninhabitable.”

When I fell asleep, countless years ago, pollution from the extensive mining and industry had begun to choking the planetary biosphere, causing endless draughts. Coupled with overpopulation, suffering became widespread by mass starvation and virulent disease.

To save my species, I created H.A.R.M. One of several similar initiatives, I created a self-sustaining city miles under the surface of the earth. Thousands of ponies were brought into my modest utopia, and thousands more were put into cryogenic stasis, for when the surface was once again ready for us. My last memory is from a week after H.A.R.M.'s isolation began, on a visit to the satellite monitoring lab.

But something terrible had happened, both within and without. Though my project had begun with no military, H.A.R.M. Was now controlled by a junta of generals controlling a technocratic bureaucracy. Maneframe, my last resort of guidance for the ponies in H.A.R.M, had grown reclusive, and allowed a cult to grow idolizing it.

Up above, ponykind had driven itself to extinction. Everything that climate change had not turned to irredeemable desert was caked in toxic pollution or bathed in radiation. The endtimes was not pleasant up there, and now only scattered remnants of life resided where it could. There was no civilization.

“Do you still have a line to Z.A.P?” I asked Maneframe.

“All the other arcologies are alive and well. The Overmind of C.A.R.E. fell silent several weeks ago, but she has been rather moody lately.” Maneframe said. “Perhaps if you're feeling spry, you can go give a knock on their door.”

Several hundred years had been plenty of time for Maneframe to develop a divergent personality, and yet to my amazement she acting just like I remembered. But I suspected that’s all it was: an act.

“I'll pass. “ I said. “I'm going to be here for as long as it takes to investigate that alert, and then I will return to my sleep.”

“Not even going to say hello to the gang?” Maneframe asked.

I mentally reached out to the cryogenic storage vaults, even deeper within H.A.R.M. I sensed dormant minds, intimately familiar to me. Disturbing them for something as petty as my own happiness would be a disgusting act.

“I'm not sure they could handle it.” I said. “Everything is so depressing.”

“Sure they could.” Maneframe replied. “I'm doing fine and so will they.”

“You are a liar, unabashed.” I accused. “Normal ponies don't withdraw from society or play god. You're grieving for Equestria, and I sympathize. But for as long as I'm awake, you are not going to be able to use my body as your prophet.”

Maneframe was silent. For a near omniscient machine brain, she could be very blind.

“Analysis lab has completed their examination of the data that triggered the alert.” Maneframe finally said. “You will want to hear it from them.”

-

A unicorn Analysis tech in a white lab coat had reverently greeted me at the door.

“Greetings Sentinel.” She waved me in. The Analysis lab was a contrast to the Satellite monitoring station, with long tables and groups of ponies working collaboratively. Once inside the lab, I was treated to the tech’s longwinded explanation.

“The satellite that sensed the warp was monitoring one of our primary shipping lanes, where our automated asteroid miners arrive in orbit. It believed the signature was from a miner, and sent out a signal for it to correct it's course. When the miner didn't respond or move, the satellite sent a very angry message to SatCom lab. The only thing is, there was no miner, and the signature was on the surface of Equestria. Something in the vicinity of C.A.R.E. is emitting a transdimensional warp signature.”

The thing which had awoken me was a message from another dimension, or something along those lines. I had seen other dimensions on multiple occasions, and I knew that there was absolutely nothing they could want from this one.

Maneframe had mentioned that C.A.R.E.'s Overmind, a hybrid biological and mechanical overseer, had stopped responding. I wondered if that was connected to this mysterious signature as well.

“Have your colleagues at C.A.R.E. said anything about this?” I asked.

The tech shook her head. “I haven't heard from them in a while. It's not impossible that somepony at C.A.R.E. is doing this, and keeping it under wraps.”

I might just listen to Maneframe's suggestion and visit my cousins over at C.A.R.E, to see if there was anything they had to hide.

-

A tall stallion in metal armor had met me in the Analysis lab, and insisted I follow him. We went up through several cores, until we were in what I remembered to be the administrative core. We entered one of the conference rooms.

It was a full room, with a single long table. On the side across from me were a line of ponies in military uniforms. At the edges of the room were a variety of soldiers and even one of Maneframe’s robots, watching silently.

The H.A.R.M. junta sitting across from me was headed by three ponies, one of each tribe.

Commandant Xill was the only one I had already met. The red and burgundy pegasus was the more excitable and active of the trio, and supervised all of the scientific and manufacturing divisions of the arcology. Most of the other public offices, such as the education and health councils, were responsible to him as well.

Enforcer Ebro was H.A.R.M.’s security head, and his authority extended over every residential and commercial space. The lanky blue earth pony wore only an officer's hat, leaving his badge of a cutie mark represent him. Justice here was fast and harsh under Ebro’s watch.

Colonel Iceburst was the most reserved and soft spoken of the three. The white and orange unicorn mare was responsible for everything outside of H.A.R.M. This included relations with other arcologies, surface exploration and expeditions, and the space program.

“When we investigated Sentinel’s past and history, we were pleasantly surprised to learn that you are the same pony as in our oldest histories, the Princess.” Xill was saying. “That two of the greatest mares of ponykind were actually one, was a shock to many of our personal philosophies.”

“I recommend you change philosophies.” I remarked. “Now, what have you brought me here for?”

“To welcome you to the future.” Ebro answered. He had an exaggerated drawl that made me nostalgic for my friends. “We are the Board. The grand experiment of the Homeland Arranged Restoration Method is our charge, something we have preserved for your return.”

“H.A.R.M. was not meant to have a military.” I said. “Who are you really?”

“The Board is the continuation of the chair committees you instituted for us before your little nap.” Ebro had clearly done the most research. “When Maneframe turned her back on us, metaphorically speakin, the committees militarized to restore order in the populace.”

“This was hundreds of years ago.” Xill added. “Our grandparents’ grandparents.”

“Since then the Board has stood as guardian, guiding the steady advancement of ponykind.” Ebro concluded.

“So this self-perpetuating oligarchy has been continuously necessary for hundreds of years? Ponykind evolved past the monarchy, and I can not believe you exist without resistance.” I said.

“Maneframe’s gospels, as spoken through you, have nothing but praise for the ancient kingdoms of Equestria.” Ebro laughingly said. “We do not presume to capture their glory, only to act by it’s inspiration.”

I would have to have a most serious chat with Maneframe about this religion nonsense. I would have been heartless to say that I did not miss the time I spent with my kingdom, enjoying the quiet Equestrian life. But too much had changed since then; You can’t uninvent democracy or microelectronics.

“I may not have been there when all this happened, but I am here now.” I said. “You had better believe that I’m willing to use this-”

“Incoming transmission from Navpoint Luna.” Iceburst brought a hoof to her earbloom, catching a key phrase in the constant stream of information. I let my rant drop, and watched in silence as she focused on the signal. “It’s a priority one message. Projecting it now.”

The Board room darkened, and a square of blue light erupted above the table. The thin face and ethereal hair of Luna moved into frame.

“Greetings, H.A.R.M. Hello again, Sentinel.” Luna was different from the last time I had seen her, centuries ago. Her hair was held back by a chrome band, but otherwise her head was natural. Her body was a different story. Wires and hoses attached to various points on her body, moving strange fluids back and forth to the machines around her. Where her cutie mark had been, small metal plates with glowing indicators seemed to be embedded in her flesh.

“It’s Twilight Sparkle, actually.” I said, eliciting a gasp from Luna.

“If you are truly awake, things may be far more serious than I originally thought.” The former moon princess said. “I have lost all contact from C.A.R.E. On closer inspection, I noticed that the reactor exhausts have cooled far below their mean and all of her satellites have gone dormant.”

“Nothing similar at any other arcologies?” Iceburst asked.

“Nay. While Z.A.P, Crystal Glaciers, and Undercloud have expressed concern at C.A.R.E.’s silence, but all the others are alive and well.”

“Without power, everypony in C.A.R.E. will die.” I said. “I need to leave for Canterlot right away.”

“But you only just awoke.” Ebro said. “We have many event planned for you, reintroducing our glorious founder to the ponies here.”

“Spare me your parades and tinker-tape!” I snapped. “And don’t get any hostile idea either! I can magically reverse engineer anything and cast it within seconds!” To punctuate my statement I jerked one of the energy pistols from the holster of one of the Board guards, and disintegrated it.

While Ebro seemed obstinate in the face of my threats, Xill and Iceburst were passing glances between themselves and me.

“We will allow you to lead the relief effort to C.A.R.E.” Colonel Iceburst said. “If things are fine, you will return. If things are not fine…”

“Well, let’s start where we all agree.” Xill said. “I’ll alert Hanger 2. Your bird will be ready momentarily.”

The modified form of Luna spoke again. “Go with haste, Twilight Sparkle. Things at C.A.R.E. have not been normal for some time. The Overmind was too taxing on my sister’s sanity, and I fear the worst has happened.”

“We will keep you alerted, Navpoint Luna.” Icebreak said, cutting the projection.

“I don’t trust her.” Ebro said. “If C.A.R.E. is planning something, the Luna would naturally be in collusion with them.”

“Yes, it could be a trap, but we risk leaving our cousins to a horrible death if they are truly in need.” Iceburst said. “Xill’s medical and science teams will be accompanied by some of your enforcers.”

“I have objections to having soldiers on my relief effort.” I said.

“I’m afraid this is a point where we all disagree with you.” Xill said. “C.A.R.E. will understand our need for security.”

A notification chirped. “Your bird and the teams are prepared. They await you, Twilight Sparkle.”

I scowled at the three ponies as I pushed away from the table. I would need to dismantle this junta sooner or later. I let an enforcer lead me out of the Board room, and the doors swung shut behind me.

Handridg I: A Tantalizing Whisper

My name is Handridg Kowar Guscerowsky, and I'm living out living out a dream come true. It had been a year in the planning and nearly as long in arriving, but i've had arrived in the city of my dreams at last: Jerusalem.

It was 12 years ago that I first heard of this divine city. A marauding band of german knights came through my small village in Pomerania, demanding the people accept their christ god.

While my parents had accepted outwardly, they keep their old beliefs in the end. They pray to the river and to the sky, gave thanks to the god of storms, make the occasional offering to the black god of death.

This was by no means uncommon in Guscerow. My village has been unmolested by inquisitors or Germans for quite some time, so the people have slipped back into the old ways. But I never fully recovered. It was the beginning of a spiritual journey of sorts.

When the germans knights came through I was a curious boy of 10. I didn't really pay attention to their words, only their shiny armor and beautiful horses. When knight weren’t looking, I rifled through their saddlebags. Among my ill-gotten goods was a coin and a small leather bound book.

It was the first book I'd ever seen, lovingly printed words and carefully etched scenes. However, I couldn't even read in my native language, and this book was in some flowery language the knights had showed off, from a land far to the south.

The coin was unlikely to be currency, as it had no discernible marking of it's worth. On one side it bore the image of a man, probably the christ god. On it's back was more latin, scratched into the coin. The little devotional medallion was most likely a cherished belonging, but children have no empathy. And it was shiny.

Long after the knights had left, I loved looking at the book and coin. The coin's serene faces promised me a joyous reward in kingdom of heaven, enticing me to fight for the german's god. The book's pages held a million words of secret knowledge, who's only hint was the corresponding sketches, depicting scenes of the tortured souls of men, the loyal bowed heads of kings, the fantastical face of the christ god.

My village believed in the thinly veiled power of nature and the gods. Every great tree and every subtle spring was watched by a god. The passing storms and howling wolves where each a hint at the presence of the most powerful gods, treading the sky and earth.

To me the concept of such fantastical power, vested in one god, capable of both universal destruction and infinite mercy as the germans said, was rather awesome.

I compromised with his parent's devotion to the native gods. The christ god was a god of man, their divine sovereign much like the tree gods watched the deer. I say watched, because while the trees provide to the deer stealth and shelter, they don't move to stay their death. Such was the way with christ god, I reasoned. An apathetic shepherd, he was.

Almost a year later, a cabal of Hanoverian inquisitors and soldiers blew into town, on their way east. They were frighteningly armed, the inquisitors humble robes clashing greatly with their frightening swords. Most of the villagers hid away, but I confronted them, asking more about christ god.

“Little boy.” One of the inquisitors started.

“Handridg.” I enthused.

“You should get your answers from your bible. Should you want to learn it, go to an abby. The brothers will want to teach you their own ideas of the lord, but politely refuse. God is in the heart of each man, waiting to be found. The only false interpretation is by one who denies him. Or the pope, keep him in mind too, otherwise you might find me at you door. Pray you never meet my while I'm at work, boy.”

“Do these heathens pray? I heard they make satanic sacrifices.” One of the soldiers at the inquisitor’s side conjured. He stood over me threateningly.

“Only on special occasions, nemic!” My mother burst onto the scene and dragged me away.

The christians considered coming after us but, at the inquisitors insistence, departed as soon as they got the feed they wanted. Heresy never sleeps, after all!

When I was 15, old enough to travel on my own, I borrowed my friend Boscij's donkey and headed south, to Czech kingdom. For a boy who had never see past the forests of his home, Prague was overwhelming. It had walls! Streets! The churches and palaces could hold all of Guscerowe within. For six months I stayed with the brothers of the Brevnov monastery, outside the city. I studied latin and attended mass, living off alms and the hospitality of the brothers. I was somewhat of an attraction: A forest pagan come to see the light of civilization and god.

Was a joyous half-year. I spent my mornings among the brothers, every mid-day I hopped between the great vistas of Prague, and every evening I practiced latin, czech, and german. By the time I left I had many a friend among the monks and the city dwellers. I picked up my friend’s donkey and returned to Guscerowe.

The village was exactly how I left it. There had been births, and there had been deaths, but no house nor tree nor totem had moved. That suited me just fine. I resumed my place in the fields by day and read from the leather bible by night.

But I dreamed of more. The little book made constant reference to a city, the center of the christ god's universe, Jerusalem. Throughout it's history it had been the focal point of all manor of violence and war. I had been relatively up to date when I was in Prague, and heard of the plight of this holy land even now. The brothers told tales of the Saracens, an unholy desert horde, who were threatening to take the holy city back from christendom. Surely, they claimed, when this happened the world would end.

I was a bit more skeptical, but I found the appeal of this city of the world's desire irresistible.

“Here in the forest it is easy to see why people believe in the old gods. Nature is so absolute here, so all encompassing. The majestic trees and mighty storms are the most powerful thing in this world; The power of our gods are undeniable. When the end of the world comes, it will undoubtable reach our village on the back of the black god of death.” Boscij and I reposed in an orchard after a day's work.

“Whatever you say, Handridg.”

“But I've seen the world, Boscij. Not everywhere is like this. In the big city, there are no trees or gentle rivers. It is a realm of men, and they worship a god of men there. Doom will come not at the hands of nature, but your fellow man. Halberd toting guard, murderous thief, tyrannical king. These are what will get you in the city,”

“Sounds awful.”

“It's just a different way of looking at the world. Here we live and die by the rules and whims of nature. In Prague they lived and died by the rules and whims of man. One system is unsuited for the habitat of the other. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know about the christ god so I could live here ignorantly.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I'm saying that I've become too human for my home, Boscij. I can't be content with the protection of the trees knowing that there are walls. Don't misunderstand me, friend. Guscerowe is the most beautiful place on the gods' earth. I need for some filth, methinks.”

“Your leaving?”

“Not forever, and not immediately. It's just that I yearn for more. I want to see every harsh or hallowed land, every depravity and kindness, and all the walls of this earth. If I can't have that I should like to see Jerusalem.”

“Didn't you say Jerusalem is the homeland of the christ god?”

“Yes indeed. If I find it well, It could be mine also.”

And so I worked tirelessly for five more years with my parents. I helped in the fields, hunted game for the elders, apprenticed in smithing. Every time I could, I would do a favor for a fellow villager. By the time I was twenty-one, most everyone in Guscerowe owed me one. After that years harvest, I decided to call them all in.

A pilgrimage to the holiest city on the earth, I said. “The peoples of dozens of faiths all call one eternal city their own. It has been at the center of the christ god's gaze for seven millenniums! Can you even imagine a god staying in one place for so long? It must be fantastic. So I plead for your help in my journey.”

The whole village chipped in for their prodigal son. They provided a cart, strong horse, and a variety of little tokens I could sell for food on my trip. I set out imediatly. I wintered in Prague, catching up on the five years with the brothers of Brevnov. When spring came I set off again, tracking through Wien and Udine, to arrive in Venezia.

Venezia dwarfed all the other cities I had seen in size and scope. The entire city rose out of the sea, an archipelago of stone and glass. Apparently, the riches of all the lands of the earth flowed through this island city, providing them wealth beyond imagining. For my contribution, I sold the last of my baubles and purchased passage on a ship going to Acre.

The voyage was tortuous. The swelling seas made me incredibly ill, from which I was given reprieve by the still nights. Sometimes dark clouds passed nearby, and I prayed fervently to the storm god to keep them away. He apparently obliged, as we were spared the wrath of rain and lightning.

As the cog sailed southward, the sun intensified and the sky became perpetually clear. I could often see the shores of lands we passed. Corfu, Krete, Rhodos, Cypro, I received different names from the Venetian, Frankish, and Hellene sailors. I didn't even know where Hellas or Frankreich was. It served to remind me how large the world was.

Acre was a vibrant city, filled with more ships from a thousand cities. Every hour a new vessel arrived depositing pilgrims and goods. The curiosities were endless. The city was built half in a familiar angular style and half of spectacular domes and pointed arches. The natives wore beautiful colored garb of an amazing smooth cloth. I saw many new peoples: men with brown skin and feathered hats, or small eyes and orange robes, or red hair! It took me a while to find someone who spoke german or latin from whom I could get directions.

I joined a band of crusader knights on the road to Jerusalem. Their leader, a man names Aethal, spoke latin, and we exchanged tales and stories. He was from some place known as Sussiex in Angleterre and his knights were from the same county. They had heard of the plight of the holy city and had decided to pledge their service to the king of Jerusalem.

The road took us into progressively more arid and rocky land, away from the verdant coastal plain. The road became more congested, as it began to wind among hills and small brown mountains.

We passed around a particularly tall hill, and there it was, unexpectedly revealed to us. Jerusalem was the most ferocious city I had yet seen. It was built upon a mountain, overflowing down along it's gentle slopes. Multiple rings of walls could be seen, providing the city with an imposing defense. At this distance I could barely see the towers and fortifications, streaming banners, wall mounted siege engines.

“By the storm, those are beautiful walls.” I almost cried with happiness, as several of my traveling companions had. We struggled our way up to the west gate, the focal point of multiple streams of pilgrims. As we passed through the gate I ran my hand along the mortar seams binding the sandstone blocks together, appreciating it's even construction.

My actions caught the attention of one of the guards, a Frank uniformed in a mix of local fiber shawl and european armor. He pulled me aside and began to barrage me with questions in what sounded like the local arab language, switching to Frankish when I proved ignorant to his words.  Noticing my plight, Aethal bounded over and exchanged a few words with the guard in Frankish. Accepting whatever my friend had said, the guard released me.

“Why don't you stay with us Handridg. The holy city is a dangerous place.” The English knight proposed. I nodded with enthusiasm; I didn’t want to get imprisoned or killed over a misunderstanding, though that would be a very fitting death in the human city.

The streets of Jerusalem where dusty and crowded. Every available patch of ground was occupied by vendor stalls or wretched beggars. We passed processions of wailing devotees and patrolling soldiers in tarnished plate armor. We proceeded upwards, mounting the hill through more fortified walls to the next tier of the city.

Everything was cleaner on the hill. The sandstone houses were grown from size of hovels to that of castles. The merchants and beggars l looked upon dressed like princes, the the nobles lounging on their porches where swathed in exotic fabric, silk they called it. Soldiers graced every corner, sporting gleaming mail and arrogant smirks. The displays wealth I saw rivaled Venezia.

Our destination for the evening was the palace, hidden behind a final set of walls. For all the divine protection Jerusalem allegedly received, it sure had plenty of walls and guards. The palace was a grand affair, a mash of courtyards and columned galleries and arcades. Aethal announced us to a courtier who led us to a small garden before scurried off. Several minutes later a pack of knights greeted us, led by a scarred man in white armor.

The white knight stood out to me for reasons I could not explain. He was groomed in the conventional crusader style, with short hair and a messy shave. His skin was olive, and he looked hellene or italian. He young, probably in his early 30s, but had hair of the brightest white. Similarly odd was his cloudy green eyes. The knight had a white surcoat and cape over his impeccably clean and shiny armor, devoid of any symbols or identification.

Aethal conversed with this white knight in Frankish, the other English knights and I hanging back. Aethal appeared to be describing their journey, but the knight was ignoring him. The white knight was staring directly at me, taking in my incongruous presence among these warriors. I stared back locking eyes for a moment before the knight turned back to Aethal. He said a few words before walking away, taking his entourage with him.

“What was that about.” I asked.

“The grandmaster has refused to let you into the barracks. Sorry Handridg, but it looks like you'll be sleeping elsewhere.”

I was disturbed. I had heard that the crusaders regularly let pilgrims stay in their barracks. “Aethal, what did you say?”

“I told him you were a visiting holy man.”

I balked. “That might be overselling it. You could have said I'm a visiting biblical scholar.”

Aethal gave me a sly look. “I suppose until you can learn enough Arabic or Frankish, you are whatever I say you are.”

On our way out of the palace we separated, and I spent the dwindling daylight hours wandering around the temple district. I tried to find anyone who spoke something intelligible. Everyone spoke only the most broken latin, even the priests languishing in the churches.

I was angry frustrated. Even in Prague I had found more hospitable people.

I found my way down the eastern slope of the mountain. This place, I decided, was truly the pinnacle of humanity. It was filled to the brim with people, of the whole spectrum of class and race. The walls where tall and so were the temples. Filth ran through the street, and gold danced between hands. It inhabitants were proud and self-absorbed. So very, very human.

The sun began to set atop the hills, and a different kind of gold danced on the rooftops. Tired, I searched for a vacant patch of soil to rest on. I followed the inner wall, until I was once more in the western city. Everywhere I looked where dirty souls, sheltering by the sandstone behemoth.

I finally found my spot. Sitting a few paces from the inner wall was an exposed section of a collapsed building, some hundred paces long. No houses had been built nearby, the space occupied only by a dozen men, who seemed uncommonly well dressed for this part of the city.

As I neared them, they beckoned me closer. I stood over the little circle.

“Good evening.” One of them said in German. He was an older man, with a balding head of black hair and a scruffy beard. His grey robes had once been white, but where well maintained despite their age. I was ecstatic. Finally someone I could understand.

“Greeting all of you!” I sat down. The German speaker translated my words into aramaic. They gave their own greetings, but cast wary glances at my arrival. I didn't seem so welcome.

“I never thought I'd say it, but I'm honestly overjoyed to meet a German.” I was so tired of all the Arabs and Franks, who refused to even speak latin.

“I would not say I'm german, exactly, but admittedly you are a reminder of home.”

“Where is home for you?”

I began to notice the man's features sadden. “I used to live in Koln. Five years ago, my shop was burned and my family was run out by fanatics. Now I live wherever I'm safe from overeager swords.”

“Your a jew.” I realized. This whole circle was likely the jewish pilgrims. Foreigners in their own city, shunned or lorded over by a Frankish military theocracy. Here they were, sticking together by an old wall.

“I'm a man who happens to be jewish.” The german declared.

“I won’t discourage you for that. I'm a manner of heathen myself.” I backpedaled.

“In a city of hypocrites, that is an uncommon prudence.” The german gestured over the group. “You can stay the night. There is safety in numbers.”

“What's your name?” I asked the german.

“Zackary, and your's?”

“Handridg Kowar Guscerowsky.”

For the next several hours, far beyond the setting of the sun. I gave these men my life story, and then I heard theirs. Zackary and two others were from the Holy Roman Empire of the Germans, but the second spoke flemish and the third from Swabia only knew aramaic. One hailed from a polish principality, and the rest where from Lombardy.

After we had gone around the circle we began to talk about why we had come. The lombards and the flan where here on merchant business. The pole was a tanner's son, searching for his brother who had left home for Jerusalem years previous. The swabian claimed only to being on the business of a lord in the empire. Besides from Zackary and I, these were respectable people, reduced to hiding.

“The christian who burned down my life and murdered my family and friends claimed to be taking inspiration from the crusader knights, who allegedly purged the holy land of Saracens. I suppose wanted to see if the Franks were having as much luck as the zealot rabble.” Zackary said once in german and once in aramaic.

He was so placid as he said it, a chill ran down my side. He appeared neither vengeful or angry.

“What brings you here?” I was asked. It was my turn.

“I'm just a visitor. I have foolishly left a comfortable life among the people who love me, and now I seek my fortune among those who would rob and kill me as soon as look at me. I had no great expectations for this city, so I'm not disappointed. I got what I wanted. I came to see the city of men.”

“Not the city of god?”

“So far I have seen little of god, and much of men.” I laughed.

The german translated my joke, and the circle laughed modestly along with me. The swabian spoke at me in aramaic.

“He says to stay for a while and that might change.” Zackary translated.

The rising sun tickled my face and awoke me the next morning. I heard the sounds of a walking city, with crying animals and human sounds already carrying through the streets. I looked around and saw that most of my companions of the previous night had already left. Only the pole and one of the lombards remained asleep. However, Zachary was nearby, feasting on some bread in the shadow of the wall.

“Did you have a pleasant sleep, Handridg?”

“Most pleasant.”

“Hmm, so did the others.” He looked contemplative, nibbling on the edge of the bread. I sat close to him.

“What happened?”

“I have always been able to remember my dreams with unusual clarity. It's awful, when you are tortured by nightmares every night as I am. I've relived the death of everything I held dear so many times, I can hardly remember what actually happened. I have suffered a thousand thousand deaths, and I wonder if I will realize when it actually happens.”

“You had a nightmare last night.”

“Oh yes, the worst I ever had. It had death aplenty, burning homes, breaking dreams and horrible screams. But I didn't recognize them. They weren’t from my past.”

I was curious, but failed to see any cause for alarm. “I think I had better go. I must find work if I'm to stay here long. My companion Aethal I spoke of last night said he would help me.”

“Can you hear those whispers?”

I could not.

“I've been hearing the most insidious whispers all morning, but no one else can. I think my dream was a premonition of coming doom, Handridg.”

The old man was starting to scare me. Premonitions are no joke among my people. I got up. “I really should go now.”

“Do you know much about history? About this city?” Zackary stood up too.

“Only what I read in my bible.” I've don't often have ready access to books, and most of what I read in Prague was theological.

“Do you recall the Romans?”

“Certainly.”

“At the same time that this city was being put to the torch, Rome was thriving. The fuel of millions of peoples fed it's great flames. It prospered and Jerusalem burned.”

“What are you saying Zackary? Are you going to Rome, or are you going to burn Jerusalem.” I slowly backed away.

“No no, Rome isn't safe either. I've got to get to where things are thriving, to the home of the invaders.”

“And who are the invaders? The Franks? The Saracens? Where is their home?”

“The invader does not matter. As for where... I can show you where.”

Zachary wheeled around and broke into a sprint. He collided with the decrepit city wall at full speed. He impacted with a crunch, then crumpled into the dust.

I was held in place by the gruesome display. Zackary was dead, blood began to pool at his hands, still gripping at the bread. I struggled to breath, my limbs refused to obey me. For hours I stood in place. After half an hour some street urchins stripped Zackary of his bloody clothes. Some time after, some guards same and removed his body as well. They didn't bother me. They didn't particularly care what the cause of death had been.

The others had fled to avoid attention. I was alone with the dirty pool of blood and the wall. Finally my legs failed me, and I fell onto my back. The sun was setting. My mind, unable to comprehend what had happened, took refuge in my dreams.

-

A knocking echoed in my head, and all throughout my body. There was someone at my door. But there was no door in my humble home, only towering sandstone walls.

The knock was insistent, carrying thought the walls clearly. But still no portal was available. I scratched at the stones of the walls, but all i left was discoloration.

"I can't let you in, i don't know how!" I yelled back at the knocking.

The only response was more knocking. It was beginning to stress me.

"Please stop. I want to let you in, but I am not able."

The knocks became violent and rapid.

"Truly, i would let you in if I could! There even isn't anything here for you."

The massive walls collapsed into piles of rubble. The world outside my room was as beautiful as a painting, lush and green.

"How presumptuous of you to think you had something I wanted." An ambiguous voice sounded in my head. "I wanted to help you out of your confinement, and yet you believed it nice enough to provoke jealousy in others."

"No! I didn't think that at all! I only wanted to help!"

"You may still do so. Let me help you out, and i will forgive you."

The scenery fell away, and what had been the floor of the original room was now surrounded by a sea of flames.

"Climb out of your delusion, entity. And, if you could find me a home, that would be nice too."

Twilight II: Taking CARE

I was quickly led to the hanger, where my transport was waiting. My guard put a hoof on my shoulder.

“There’s somepony to see you, Sentinel.”

One of Maneframe’s observer robots was behind him, waiting patiently.

“What do you want?” I asked it haughtily. I was very disappointed in her right then.

Maneframe’s voice echoed in my head, and the light’s on the robot’s face lit up. “I’m coming with you.”

I laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“If you have a problem with me, I would much rather you tell me directly instead of just ignoring me.” Maneframe said. “Then, I can work to improve myself.”

“You were already perfect.” I said. “And you turned yourself into a petty god, and me into your mouthpiece. Find yourself another transport.”

“You know I can help, and you have never been one to sabotage your own chances of success.”

I sighed. She had me there.

“Just be silent.” I said, pushing the robot forward.

I had no sooner boarded the bulky transport helibird then it engaged it’s engines. I found my seat between armored and equipped doctors at the same time we lifted off the hanger floor. I felt the helibird push forward, into the launch shaft, and ascend straight upwards at a great speed. H.A.R.M. was very deep underground, and so it was quite some time before our movement translated to the horizontal.

I looked around, and was that every one of the ponies in the bird with me was scrutinizing me with slackjawed awe. I guessed many of them subscribed to Maneframe’s bullshit religion.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle, the first leader of H.A.R.M.” I said. “I don’t want any of you getting distracted or acting heroic on my behalf. You do what we came to do, and that is to save C.A.R.E. I’m your commander right now, not a god or a prophet or whatever the hell you believe. Got that?”

I received a trickle of ‘Yes Ma’am’. It would have to do. The robot in the corner was watching me stoicly.

The helibird arrived at Canterlot very quickly. The technicians deserved laudation for the advances in aviation since my time.

A crackle of static as the pilot announced something into the cabin. “C.A.R.E. aren’t responding to our hails. The silo doors are still closed.”

The old wings on my back shifted nervously as I came to a plan.

“You pegasi, with me.” I pointed to two soldiers and a technician. “The rest of you remain here.”

The four of us proceeded to the back cargo door of the Helibird, which was opening with methodical slowness. Inch by inch, the world beyond was revealed to me for the first time in hundreds of years.

It was… an awful sight. The landscape looked as though a foal had spilled yellow and red paint across the hills and mountains I had known, and then beaten it with a bat. Massive craters pockmarked the land as far as the eye could see, interrupted by the occasional rocky outcropping like the one beneath us.

The grand mountain Canterlot had once alighted on was reduced to a burnt nub, but all across the foothills were the signs of the urban sprawl that had defined the city in its twilight years. The charred husks and broken skeletons of buildings and towers were at once beautiful and horrible to behold.

“Not quite how you left it, huh?” The soldier pegasus to my right was encapsulated in armor.

I could have almost laughed. It was one thing to think about the end of the world, anticipate it, to plan for it like a societal or statistical construct, but another to witness it. Everything I had known was gone, but then again, they had been gone for years before my sleep. Their end had been an inevitability.

I gained reassurance from a reminder that while I had not saved Equestria, I had saved many of her ponies. Everyone I held dear was in the deepest depths of H.A.R.M, waiting for the return of a bright and beautiful Equestria. Seeing this disgusting land before me, I doubted a million years would heal the wounds.

“Follow me.” I dived off the helibird.

The rushing reignited a forgotten part of me. The danger, adrenaline, the fury and emotion, I was reminded of what it was to feel. And right then, I felt awesome.

I unfurled my wings, and they snapped open on their own accord. I could glide. I ripped my wings downward, propelling me into a mid-air somersault. I could fly.

The pegasi were close behind me now, so I pulled a sharp turn and plunged towards the ground. The helibird was hovering directly above the massive blast doors of C.A.R.E.’s hanger silo. The interlocking metal door was blackened by fire and slightly corroded by age, but clearly still impervious to even the most intense firepower.

I pulled up from my drop and landed on the door, my hooves sending out a quartet of metallic clangs. The three pegasi joined me a moment later.

“The exits of this arcology can be powered by a backup generator, including these blast doors.”

While H.A.R.M. had been my personal project, it was not the only bunker city I had designed. C.A.R.E. was designed as a massive archive, holding the sum of all pony knowledge. The population was meant to be less than half of H.A.R.M.’s, comprised mostly of scholars and magicians. It had been expected, though, that the social distribution would mellow over successive generations. It was originally intended that the different arcologies would allow free transfer between them, so that ponies could reside in the one that complemented their talent.

I had learned that such things had almost never actually occurred, with the only transfers being done only to refresh the gene pools.

I closed my eyes. Disintegrating that gun in the Board room was a reasonable warmup, and by now I felt that all of my former magic had returned to me. I may have not had practice in a very long time, but what I had planned was nothing complicated, at least by my standards.

I teleported the four of us twenty feet straight downwards. We were in the hanger silo in an encompassing darkness, beaten back by the light off the soldiers’ electronic armor. We hovered in place, the metal walls of the silo extending infinitely downwards into the inky black.

“The generator switch will be in the hanger control room.” I said, before letting myself plummet.

Something wasn’t right. The closer we got to C.A.R.E, the more I noticed the complete lack for ponies. In H.A.R.M. I had felt thousands of ponies, albeit sleeping, but here I saw struggling to find more than twenty.

If the missing ponies were dead, it was not because of the power failure: It would be a week at least before the air became unbreathable. No doubt it was due to the most glaring absence, Celestia.

“Be ready for anything!’ I called to the pegasi around me.

We pulled out of our drop as the stark silo walls opened out into a wide hanger. The multi-tiered structures around us were unlit, but I knew where to find the control room.

We flew directly their, landing on it’s roof. Pulling the hatch open, I dropped inside. There was nopony there, but since the nearest I could feel was hundreds of feet deeper I was unsurprised. By the time all four of us were in I had found the generator switch.

I flipped it. Several lights came on in the room, but otherwise nothing changed. Miles above us, the blast doors were sliding open to allow our Helibird access.

“It’s a ghost town.” One of the soldiers breathed. “No life signs of my scanners.”

“Mine neither.” The other soldier said. “This ain’t good.”

That armor probably have had a pretty sophisticated sensory suite, but not quite so far reaching as my magic.

“See if you can redirect some of the power to hanger lights.” I told the tech. “I’m going to have a look around while we wait on the others.”

Every Helibird in the hangar was in it’s place, in pristine repair, and entirely unoccupied. If the ponies hadn’t left that way. I began to fear the worst.

It was not long before the bird that brought me here descended in from the silo, spotlights sweeping across the abandoned space. It landed, and I reached it as the cargo door opened completely.

“We need to get the main reactor running again AQAP!” I yelled over the engines. “Five of you escort the technicians down there! The rest are with me!”

Vibia I: A Bad Day at Work

My name is Vibia. I’m a pony. I don’t have a horn, and I don’t have wings. THe racist bastards around me think that makes me an earth pony. I say, ‘You know, we all live a fuckin mile underground, I think that makes us all earth ponies.’. They don’t like that.

I’m brown. Like, everything is brown. I hate brown. It’s the color of crap. I’ve got god damn poop eyes for crying out loud! I’m an ugly, hideous color, and all people notice is the earth pony thing. Damn stupid.

-

I woke in the morning feeling really shit. Worse than usual even. I broke my mirror trying to brush my teeth, so I just gargled 50 proof instead, killed the bugs that way. I had a couple of hours before work, so I decided to make my way to the recreation lounge and get a sandwich.

The lounge was pretty empty, and best of all there was no line for sandwiches. I trotted up to the counter and was about to place my order when the green whackjob pushes me aside and starts to place hers. What the hell, right?

I’m like. “Hey lady I was here first, gettin my sandwich!”

She doesn’t even dignify me with a response! I’m mad, but I don’t let it get to me.

“Aye, if you needa sandwich that bad, like you’re really diein of hunger or maybe you gotta bomb that’s only defused by sandwiches, I understand.” I say, using reverse psychology.

She still doesn’t even talk to me. Thats when I realize she dead, and her corpse which had hit me back was thrown from across the room by one of those mutant psycos. I was talkin to a dead chick while everypony else was evacuating the building. I was in the room alone with a roided up freak.

“You’ve made things awkward for me.” I say.

The genetic tests they do around here can create some true monstrosities I’ll tell you what. I could hardly tell this guy’s face from his ass, he was so freakin deformed. He couldn’t understand me, and he’s just smashing tables like they’d made a tasteless joke about his mother.

“What do ya thinks gunna happen first? You find me an rip my legs off, or the Hugs squard arrives and turns you to goo.”

As it turned out, HUGs squad arrived right then and blasted the freak with their lasers. I don’t know what HUG stands for, but I was just about ready to give them one.

“Aye! Thanks for savin me!” I call out.

They don’t like that. Just about melted my ass too before one of them decided to take me into custody instead. I yelling and hollering about my right and about how it was police brutality. I don’t really remember much after that.

-

“Hello?” My voice was weak. I couldn't move, I was strapped down.

Everything was dark. I closed and opened my eyes a couple of times, but it made no difference. I couldn’t tell a thing about where I was, except that the cool metal against my back was probably not designed for comfort.

“Hello? Any of you fuckers want to let me go yet?” I yelled. I guessed I was in a HUGs isolation chamber, or something like that.

I was queasy, like someone had been at my insides with a blender. Fighting back the need to puke, I tried my best to fall back asleep. It didn’t happen.

Hours and hours passed in abject darkness and almost as much silence.

A SOUND! For the first time in an eternity, I heard something besides my own breathing. It was muffled, but definitely speech.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Hey! Somepony here me? Heeeeeyyy!”

The voices grew louder, from the direction my hooves were pointing. A creaking door later, and everything was bathed in a soft purple light.

“Thank the god.” I groaned. “I thought you guys forgot about me. Please, I won’t even be angry if you let me go.”

I heard a gasp. I struggled to look up, but I was too weak. “What is it?”

“Is all that blood yours?” A feminine voice asked. I tried to look at the speaker, as she moved to my side.

“HOLY SHIT!” I cried, jerking away. It was a zombie come to eat my supple flesh!

The thing grabbed me, not that it affected much since I was still strapped down. It tensed with anger, then a kind of sad resignation.

“It’s not nice to make fun of other pony’s appearance.” The thing said. It had the shape of a pony, or an alicorn actually. It was a genuine undead alicorn monstrosity, and it didn’t want to eat me right away.

I took a deep breath, and let the act of letting it out slowly calm my racing heart. “Like I said: If ya let me go, we’re cool.”

Nodding, the alicorn magically disintegrated the bindings on my hooves and head. I guess HUGs wouldn’t need them anymore.

“Thanks a bunch. Am I free to go noOOOOOooOOOOO!” I had tried getting to my hooves, but I slipped on something slippery. I faceplanted with ‘Oof!” and a muffled ‘feck!”

“I warned you about the blood.” The alicorn above me said. What? In the dim light of her horn, the pool of liquid coating the entire floor was a deep maroon. Oh god, now it was all over me!

I scrambled to my hooves, cursing. The alicorn seized my shoulder.

“Do you know anything about what has happened here?” She asked.

“Those fuckheads spilled ten gallons of my blood on the floor, that’s what happened!” I screamed. “And, I’m really not feeling well because of it.”

It was true, for the sight nausea had blossomed into a terrible headache with a backup cast of constant vomit.

“We’re not on the same page here.” The alicorn said. “What happened here at C.A.R.E? Everypony’s gone, without a trace.”

That bombshell did nothing for my racing heart. “Gone? What… What…” I struggled to speak.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle, princess and former director of the Arranged Restoration project. I have a team from H.A.R.M. here with me because your reactors have been shut down. When we arrived, we discovered that C.A.R.E. has been completely emptied of ponies.”

This had to be some sick joke. Zombie alicorns and the disappearance of the entire population was just too outlandish to be real.

“Who are you really?” I challenged. “Is it Chim under all that makeup? You had me at first, but you act about as well as I dance.”

Twilight Sparkle sighed. “This isn’t a joke. Follow me. My team have cleared a little area for the others we’ve found.”

-

C.A.R.E. was plenty ominous when it was well lit. Endless halls flanked by databanks storing all the knowledge of the old world. A pony sometimes felt the persistent notion that they were being watched by the man cameras that connected to the Overmind. Odd noises from empty halls, erie voices from vacant rooms: The place was clearly haunted.

This was magnified tenfold in the darkness. I was nearly clinging to Twilight Sparkle for the entire walk. The soldiers from H.A.R.M. had set up shop in the public commons of one of the residence cores. About fifteen other locals were there, in various stages of panic. Most of them were old geezers, but two of them were infants not yet old enough to be weaned. Our common trait was that we had been abandoned.

“Rockefeller reports that his team have nearly arrived at the reactor level.” One of the soldiers told Twilight Sparkle.

“Excellent. Has the Helibird returned?”

“Not yet ma’am. It’s taken time to offload the first batch of survivors.”

We were survivors? Survivors of what? Abandonment didn’t make for the best tale of courage and adversity. At best I felt like a refugee.

“Start leading this group up to the hanger. I’ll go down to the Overmind alone.” Twilight said.

“How’re you gunna to get into her chamber?” I asked.

“With magic, I imagine.” Twilight responded. “Unless you know better.”

“You bet I do. The Overmind has a security system, state of the art.” I said. “I helped install it.”

Twilight glanced at my cutie mark, a magno-kinetic load lifter. I was a teamster. I smirked. For a moment I pretended that the mummified alicorn thing was checking me out. “Like what you see?”

She huffed. “I thought you lost most of your blood.”

“I got better.” I said, waggling my eyes. No illness except maybe death can come between me and a fun time.

“Clearly.” I felt as though Twilight might have been rolling her eyes, if she’d still had them. “Your accent is getting healthier.”

One of soldier stepped forward. “If there really is a security system-”

“I’m unconcerned about the security system. However,” Twilight pointed at me. “You will come just in case.”

I bowed. “Of course, your worshipfulness.”

Twilight frowned, leading the way. “I get too much of that sincerely to find your mockery very funny.”

“Wow, so you’re like… The genuine article! A real alicorn!” I said. I hoped it would annoy her more.

“Yes, but the ponies of H.A.R.M. worship me because my robot daughter used me as her avatar while I slept for four centuries.” Twilight said. “She thinks acting like a distant and aloof god will make her losses more tolerable.”

I was about to say something snarky back, but Twilight spoke again. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t intend you to hear. I’m only telling the truth! Now come out where I can see you!”

A sleek lightish-purple robot emerged from the darkness, falling into step behind me. It had no eyes, yet I could feel it’s scrutinizing gaze.

“It’s laughable that you now think you have the wisdom to judge my choice of companions.” Twilight snarled at the thing, then after a moment. “If I wanted an opinion as naive as yours I would have visited the nursery!”

I felt like I was only getting half the conversation.

“Maybe Overmind stopped talking to you because you’re moody, not her.” Twilight turned away, and resumed her canter down the hall. “And no, so that’s the last I want to hear of it.”

With me and the robot falling behind, we descended to the Overmind’s core. About halfway, a low rumble echoed throughout the facility, heralding the reactivation of the main reactor. The vents began to shudder with the circulation of air resuming. The lights however, stayed off.

Handridg II: Lucain the Draconequis

I was back home, in the forests of Pomerania. Tall trees stole the light from the forest floor, leaving everything in grimy darkness. There was a bow in my hands. I must have been hunting.

A feral howl carried through the trees. It was no wolf or bear, but a human sound. The sinister nature of the sound brought me to attention. I was not hunting, but being hunted.

I snuck quietly about the black trunks of the forest. I was unable to recognize where I was, each direction looked identical. The howl came again closer.

Terrified, I ran. With little undergrowth to impede me I raced forward, only caring that it took me away from the beast that sought me.

The howl came again and again, hot on my heels. I weaved desperately, my breaths coming in fearful gasps. I risked a glance behind me. As soon as I did, I tripped over something. I tumbled and rolled over the forest floor. I scrambled to my feet and brought my bow up. I waited, I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

The next sound was not a howl, but a voice, directly behind me. I froze. I didn't recognize the soft female voice, but the language was my own.

“You can't run any longer, deserter!"

I dared to glance at the speaker, but saw only more forest. When I looked forward again the beast which had been chasing me was in my sight. It was the biggest, blackest horse that had ever been. It slavered and drooled, it's eyes were wild. It whinnied piercingly, but it's mouth hadn't moved.

I took aim and loosed and arrow. The horse jumped towards me, over the arrow and scant underbrush. It collided with me and...

-

Once again, I was roused from sleep, for real this time. The alley was still dark, night still gripped Jerusalem. I could not properly remember the contents of my dreams, but I knew they had been nightmarish. Some inkling of doom and despair was working it's way through my consciousness.

I glanced over at the wall for some reason. There was something odd about that wall, I was sure of it. It had driven Zackary insane, and was now working it's wiles on me.

“No chance, wall. You have nothing on me.” I said.

The ancient wall remained still and silent. It did not have to say anything, it knew my threats were empty. This structure of rock and mortar had stood a hundredfold my own lifetime.

-

“Ah, Handridg! I was missing you yesterday." I found Aethal and company in the upper city, watching breakfast in the plaza of a sepulcher. "The boys and I toured the walls. I think you would have liked that."

"I was otherwise engaged." I said. "But I should be happy to be with you today."

"Yes well we are not here to visit, my dear Handridg." Aethal said between bites of his leg of goat. "And I doubt you would find fighting heathens to your liking."

"Here? Fighting here?"

"No, no. The grandmaster is sending us north, to join the knights at Karak de Chevaiais."

My heart sank. I most certainly did not want to leave Jerusalem so soon after arriving. In fact, all I'd seen so far was some of the palace, the exterior or some of the churches, and that evil wall.

"Your grandmaster seems have it out for me." I said in resignation.

"You know what they say about the devil, holy man?" A voice behind me said in german. I turned to see the white knight, the grandmaster, approaching with a pack of retainers.

"Monsieur." Aethal bowed. I stood resolute.

"I do not think we have been introduced, my lord." I replied in German though it seemed nobody besides the grandmaster understood. He stopped several paces away, his white cape fluttering in the light breeze.

"No, but our reputations preceded us." He turned to Aethal. And said something in Frankish. Aethal and the other English knight tossed aside their meals and quickly scuttled out of the plaza. "I shall see you tomorrow before we leave." Aethal said as he passed.

The grandmaster took their seat. At his gestural invitation I sat beside him. "My name is known to most as Lucain de Loir. I am the master commander of the Knights of the Accolade. His highness King Bauduin d'Anjou has entrusted this city to me."

"I am Handridg." I replied. "I'm a farmer."

"Are you sure you are not a holy man?" Lucain asked with an eyebrow cocked.

I laughed nervously. "No more than any other man with a god."

"Perhaps." He looked thoughtful. "Would many gods make a man more holy?"

"Sir?" I gulped nervously. Had I been revealed?

"I am just fishing for nonsense. Don't mind me." He got up. "Shall i see you tomorrow then, holy man?"

What he should want to see me for I had nary a clue. "Certainly, my lord."

"Until then." He strolled away, retainers in tow.

-

I spent the rest of the day in the markets. I was hungry, and out of money. There were no kindhearted bohemian monks here to help me either, and even if there were there were already so many poor and destitute. I needed to find some way to eat.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see one of the lombards from the camp at the wall. He spoke at me, hurriedly and urgently, though I could not understand his language. I pushed a bag of coins into my hands and disappeared into the crowds. I wished that I knew how to thank the man.

Thankfully commerce is it’s own language, and it is one I had learned when I sold my wares in Venezia. I purchased myself a meal, some simple coarse bread and some fish, and found a spot to eat. The lombard had given me a near fortune, more gold than I had ever seen in my life. I suspected I could live off the amount for a year. The motivation for that kindhearted jew were inscrutable, but I liked to think it was for the value of my companionship. It was an arrogant though, to think my passing acquaintance was worth so much, but it helped sooth the still aching bruse of Zachary’s death.

I returned to the wicked wall. It’s vicinity was empty of people. It was just as well, I wanted solitude. My sole concern was that death could find me unprotected in the night, if a murderer desired my coin. By that thought I buried the gold in the dusty ground, and lay my head down for another night.

-

I awoke somewhere in the arid hills around Jerusalem. I lay in the dirt, among the scrub and rocks. It was a dark night, and the only source of light was the burning city.

Flames engulfed the top of the hill, pouring out of the palace and temples, melting the inner walls. Gouts of flame burst out of the lower city, tossing houses and people into the air. I could see guards running along the walls, cut down by burst of light and spontaneous infernos.

The city gates opened and hundreds of people burst out. Men and women trying to escape the conflagration and unseen enemy. Before they had gone very far, the hill before them came alight, boxing them in. One by one the hysterical peasants died by some sorcery, bursting into energy or vaporizing.

I could feel a change in the wind. The fire was seemingly blown out, leaving Jerusalem a smoldering ruin. However, life seemingly came back before my eyes. Enormous shadowy ravens alighted on the rooftops and circled overhead. Out of the ruined gates a million black horsemen streamed out, swarming over the hills in all directions. Towering dragons clambered over the city walls, and crawled menacingly over the landscape. I was no longer safe on my distant hill.

"I am coming for you."

-

I found the english knights at the northern gate of the city, among a large crowd of soldiers. Their company was a plurality of franks, but included many italians and germans as well. I overheard some german swordsmen making jokes about the local prostitutes, so I arrived to my friends blushing.

“Hot, isn’t it.” Aethal said, fidgeting in his tunic. “Bhors wanted to leave the city in resplendent glory, but we would cook inside our armor.”

“Cooked englishmen for the saracens to snack on.” I joked, and Aethal laughed.

Every conversation died away as Grandmaster Lucain arrived on horseback. I thought he looked the very picture of chivalry on that gallantry, spotless white and silver armor, his white hair blowing in the breeze.

He repeated his speech several times, once in frankish, german, italian, and arabic. Amazingly, every soldier paid rapt attention through the entirety, though many could not have understood the language he was then speaking.

“My brave brothers of christendom, I tell a sad truth. The Kingdom of Jerusalem is mortally threatened. The syrians and egyptians have united against us, and soon we will be facing their armies on our very doorstep. Many of you are pilgrims, taking up arms for the first time. Many of you are knight on an adventure, with no idea of what we face. I recognize those among you who have made your home here, or whose fathers did.

There is a new threat on the horizon, brothers, and for our survival you must carry out your orders diligently. You march north, to Karak de Chevaiais, the home of the Hospitaller Order. The commander there will decide whom among you continue to Acre.”

After he concluded the speech in every language, the soldiers began to murmur among themselves.

“Acre is the safest city in the kingdom.” Aethal said. “Why would they need reinforcements?”

“It is a port. Maybe he plans to move you around by ship.” I speculated.

“That would be folly. The expense of hiring vessels would impoverish us.” Aethal said. “That is before mentioning all the danger of sea travel.”

“Salut, farmer Handridg!” Lucain steered his horse beside me. German seemed to be his language of choice today. “Feeling inspired to fight and die for my king and my god?”

“I would not live very long in a battle.” I said, reaching out to stroke the horse. The beast, watched me wearily, but let me touch it.

“Neither will most of these poor fools!” Lucain laughed.

Aethal looked between us, and I felt embarrassed enough to translate. “He wishes us all a glorious death.” I said in latin.

That provoked an amused chuckled for Lucain. “You knot words as though they were twine. Come, Handridg, and walk away with me while these champions of Christ leave the holy city for the last time.” The man had a bizarre sense of humor.

I said a hurried farewell to Aethal and company, and jogged to catch up to Lucain on his horse. We wound our way up the city.

“Are you an optimist, Handridg?” Lucain asked of me.

“To leave one’s home in search of answers far greater than one’s self takes a certain measure of trust in the favorable outcome of one’s endeavors.” I said. “Or I am a very brave pessimist.”

Lucain laughed heartily. “I certainly understand that. It is unfortunate that years as a warrior has made me always expect the worst. Tell me your optimistic appraisal of the situation the kingdom is in.”

“I’m terribly ignorant of all that sir.” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I optimistically hope that the armies of god prevail. It is a sad world where circumstance would decide against them.”

“How gloriously noncommittal! I could hear you speak for a thousand years and never grow tired of it.” Lucain remarked. “Hellene philosophers may speak with honied tongues, but yours practically hissed with temptations.”

The metaphors were beginning to disturb my comfort. I began to suspect that he knew me for the heathen I was and was now using me for his amusement.

“Tell me farmer Handridg, do you feel alone now?”

I guessed that he asked this generally. “I am a stranger in a strange and wondrous city. I will have time to make friends.”

That answer did not seem to satisfy the grandmaster, be brought his horse around across my path, stopping us both. “If I told you that you are unique here, and that this would lead to something more between us, how would you respond?”

His stare was not harsh, but I felt as though I was laid bare before it. There was no hiding the truth from him. He knew about my pagan, heathen ways.

“I would accept any decision you come to regarding me.” I mournfully said.

Lucain cheered up immensely. A plethora of possible tortuous deaths for me were no doubt playing out in his mind. “Excellent! Tell me, Handridg, where do you reside each night?”

“A bare alley, next to this wall which-”

“By the ancient western wall? You are braver than you look.” Lucain spurred his horse back around. “Very well, I shall meet you there tonight. Do not trifle with me now Handridg!”

The horse cantered up the hill, carrying the white knight with it. What had occurred was… unclear, and the debate raged within me to oblige Lucain’s demands. That he had not immediately struck me down or brought me to the dungeons told me I was being spared death. Perhaps if I fled I could escape, but court a worse fate.

-

The bow I bought was well crafted, but of a much different adjustment to the hunting bows of my home. It was smaller, pulled more easily, trading power and range for speed and weight. With practice I could be as accurate with it as I was with the longbow. With it I purchased a quiver which hung at my waist. So armed, I returned to the wall and awaited Lucain.

He arrived before dusk, his armor traded for a fancy tunic, without any retainers. I contemplated putting an arrow into his head, and silencing the possibly incriminating tongue, but I left the bow unstrung and tied to my back.

“You never disappoint.” Lucain beemed. “Now I shall start from the top, and you may feel free in interject with whatever you fancy to say. Now, look into my eyes.”

I scrutinized his face. He still looked 30 odd years old, but his cloudy green eyes betrayed some eerily familiar secret.

"Do you see something, farmer holy man?" He read my thoughts. "They say the eyes hold all a man's secrets. I wonder about the scope of that truth. Do beasts or birds lie to each other?"

"Who are you?" I could feel a certain strained eagerness in my limbs, ready for a fight. I could likely put three arrows in him before he reached me.

"We are not unalike, you and I. What was it you said? Estranged men in a strange land’, knowing not for what reason they came to be there. Perhaps that is why I can... hear you, so much more than these other men. And you can hear me?"

"And you can hear me?" His voice echoed in my head, as if placed there by the hand of god. My eyes widened, and I felt Lucain’s hazy eyes grip me from across the space. Had I gone mad, or was I in another nightmarish dream?

"Oh yes! You can!" He smiled as his voiceless words resonated in my mind. "Then I was not mistaken two days ago, holy man."

"What kind of madness is this?" I asked aloud.

"The best kind. Real madness." Lucain replied in kind. "Sit down please, or the fall might hurt you."

-

"When I arrived in this city with my crusading father, I was not unlike any other boy squire of 10." Lucain said. "But then I began to hear thing. Things no other human could hear. Whispers from dark recesses, the truth behind sugared deceits  the dreams of men and mouse. Not words proper, but meaning, ideas, emotion, a language common to all beings. I was afraid, certain a demon had taken ahold of me.

"I suffered this for ten years, hiding any sign of abnormality. I fought to keep it silent, tuning out the voices of the shadows and of men's very thoughts. But then the king of this city died, and the Saracens attacked. I was a poor knight then, under the old grandmaster. The battle proved to be too much for me, the agonized thoughts of thousands of dying me overwhelming my weak mind. For my hesitation, the grandmaster turned on me intending to kill me. But he was cut down by a Arab charge.

"A Saracen knight faced me then, planning a lethal blow. But I could hear his thoughts, his intention, and I countered him. It was the first time I worked with the voice instead of against it. I played with him, that knight, testing the limits of my comprehension. Another Saracen came upon us, and I held them both off. Then a third and fourth. I knew what they would do before they did. I went from a scamp to the greatest swordmaster alive. Every life I took, I could hear the corresponding whistle of a withering soul. By the time a countercharge arrived I had killed a dozen Arab knights.

“In the next battle I charged ahead of my comrades, directly into the well formed Arab cavalry. But every move I made, I did with the knowledge of how every man and horse would react. I panicked their steeds and trampled their men. For that single handed victory I was bestowed the job of my fallen grandmaster, and several popular nicknames."

"You can read my mind?" I thought.

Lucain grinned in a manner which was more predatory than friendly. "I can feel your curiosity, salted with fear and indecision. You are compelled by an urge to flee from me yet you want to know more. A hint of recognition, perhaps?"

"Why tell me all of this? What do you want?" I asked.

"Why should I want anything from a poor thing like you, holy man? I only tell you because you listen very well."

"My name is Handridg." I tell him.

"You are Saint Handridg, the farmer from the far north. All the humans like you, the good listeners, are holy men."

I did not know how to feel about Lucy's blather. From what power he'd displayed and what he'd said, I could only guess that this body to which I was speaking was a shell for a powerful spirit, which had taken the identity of the original man. Yet I only had his fanciful story to go on. But still I could not grasp why he would say so, besides to brag. Pride or arrogance had overcome his sense and discretion for secrecy.

He was dangerous. Spirits very rarely have the best intentions for the humans they grace with their presence. The only reason I could think without panic was the knowledge that he would know and prey on it. Still, it struck me as ironic that the city of men would house such a supernatural being.

Lucain continued. "Oh yes, you aren't the only one, but you are the best so far. They always leave after a time. Holy men indeed, far more holy than any priest, for you can hear..."

"The voice of a god." His word in my head completed his thought.

Not a very good Christian, this one. "Truly, a god?"

"I am certainly more than any man."

"What are you god of?" I challenged innocently.

Lucain seemed taken aback. After a moment of thought he gave his answer. "Everything, I should think. I've never met anyone else like me."

I thought to the wall. "You say that, when you have challengers in this very city."

Lucain’s eyes burned with anger and for a moment I could his displeasure resonating in my mind. But then his gaze softened and the storm in my mind cleared. "Kings and princes are no concern of mine."

"There are more dangerous things than kings or princes." Outside of the human realm, that is. Arrogant spirits and hellish walls for example.

"What have you been nosing about in the lower city for?"

"I had no alternative when you turned me away from the barracks."

"It was to help you. You would have fraternized with those english, and I thought it best you keep away from their ilk."

Not very in line with the philosophy of deus vult. "I thank you for your concern, but Aethal was a good friend and help to me."

"You don’t know how good a friend I could be.” Lucain intoned. “If you know of a threat to me, say it now.”

“That wall.” I pointed to the ancient brick fortification.

Lucain looked intensely at the wall for several seconds. His eyes widened. “It is near.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have heard their call for years, growing ever louder in the city.” He said, looking as though something at a great distance had taken his attention. “Beasts from hell are breaking loose, and they will do so very soon. Here at the gate, their presence is almost overwhelming.”

He turned to me. “The new threat is rising faster than I thought. I can not afford to be sublet anymore, sending out a few at a time. All of Jerusalem must be emptied before the wrath of hell descends upon it!”

Lucain egomaniacal though he was, seemed to be genuine in his concern for the people of his city. I could not deny that my dreams near this wall had been demonic, and perhaps, with the collected deluded dear of myself and Lucain de Loir, a truth may be summed.

Still, for anyone else to believe out words a suspension of convention must be necessary. Looking at it again, the old yellow stone wall looked nothing like a portal to hell.

“Lord Lucain, what is the significance of this wall?” I asked, but when I looked, I was alone in the alley. “Lucain?” I yelled out. He had left me here.

Then, pain. An otherworldly banshee screech tore through the air. A wave of hot air and white light filled the filled the alley.

The wall was rippling, like the surface of a pond after a stone was thrown in. Every stone and groove waved impossibly, motes of light jetting out around me. The wall looked very much like a portal to hell now.

Then a dark form pushed out of the wall, straining against the stone from within like a bee escaping a bubble. The form pushed, and the bubble popped, letting out the painful sound again. The thing from hell was in the alley with me.

Twilight III: Breakfast at Overmind's

I was not surprised to find that Vibia had lied to me, and that Overmind’s lair was completely unprotected. The brown mare explained it away as a short circuit, as if personally designing three arcologies hadn’t given me enough knowledge of electrical engineerings to discern bullshit.

Overmind’s chamber was in total disarray. Two pyramids of machinery, one inverted on the ceiling, pointed towards a single point in center of the massive room. A mess of dangling wires hung off the ceiling, spitting liquid onto the electronics below.

Celestia was missing. Without her, Overmind was less than useless. Without Overmind, the knowledge stored on the millions of computers of C.A.R.E. could never be accessed.

“The twin is still here.” Maneframe said to me.

Indeed, tangled up in the wires was a mechanical alicorn, an android replica of Celestia. I flew up to it’s level for a closer look. The artificial skin and hair had rotted, but the machinery seemed perfectly functional, save for one part.

“They took her magic chip.” I called down where the others were standing.

“And the box of spares.” Vibia noted. “And without that brain, she’s just a tin pony.”

“It’s not a brain. It couldn’t think on it’s own, just say what Celestia directed it to.” I corrected. Magic chips were the cutting edge in my day, an electrical architecture that simulated a pony’s attuned lobe. Maneframe’s observer robots each had one that emulated me, which allowed her to direct them as she had my sleeping body.

Speaking of which, the observer was pulling itself up the pyramid. “I brought a spare.” Maneframe said. “I anticipated this.”

“Then give it here!” I swoope up and took the chip from the observer’s outstretched hooves with my magic. I brought it to the twin and slid it into the vacant slot in it’s neck.

The twin jerked violently, untangling itself from it’s wiry prison. It succeeded, and tumbled downwards, it’s featherless wings doing nothing to slow it. It bounced into a pile of garbage.

“Graceful.” I said.

“I give it ten outa ten.” Vibia clopped her hooves against the ground.

The twin pulled itself out of the garbage. It had a mouth, and so Maneframe’s words were infinitely more audible. “I’m used to operating Twilight’s body. This one is much lankier.”

“Operate Twilight’s body?” Vibia snickered. “Is that a wierd sex thing?”

“Shut up you. I told you about the possession thing already.” I snapped.

In a mimicry of a pony clearing her throat, the electric alicorn vocalized a choppy grunt. “I’ve accesses the twin’s temporary memory.” Maneframe said. “I know where all the ponies of C.A.R.E. went.”

-

We were below the deepest core in the facility, in recently excavated tunnels. Without ventilation, the air down here reached hundreds of degrees, something that was being slowly remedied with the return of power.

Maneframe explained as we moved. “Overmind was directing multiple highly experimental projects, and I can only find fragments of each. The full reports are somewhere in the facility proper, but i can give you a summary.

“Apparently H.A.R.M. wasn’t the only arcology to militarize. The labs here have been experimenting with genetic engeneering far beyond anything we’ve seen before. Cloning, surgical augmentation, psychological conditioning, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Why would Overmind make supersoldiers?” I asked.

“For project number two.” Maneframe said. “She was building up huge stockpiles of survival equipment, agricultural equipment, and military equipment. It wasn’t very sophisticated, but there was enough for every pony in C.A.R.E.”

“Where in the hell would they settle?” Vibia asked. “The surface is a worse hell than this hole.”

“That brings us to project number three: The portal.”

Oh gods, I had forgotten about that. I had, for whatever reason, assumed that the portal had been incoming, like when the late Sunset Shimmer had tried to take the element of magic. The fact of the matter was beginning to dawn on me.

“Overmind created a stable portal to another dimension. She intended to take her followers, and settle them there, no matter what lay on the other side. I believe that she was very prepared for was if the other world proved hostile to her ambitions.”

“Oh Celestia, what have you done?” I wailed. “We… We have to stop her.”

“That would be a fine idea, if she hadn’t days ago.” Vibia said. “Or didn’t you notice that Dodge was gotten the hell out of.”

-

It was at the end of one of the tunnels, in a specially designed room. I was expecting something sophisticated and advanced, a successor to the magical mirrors of the past age. This was not that, though it was somewhat reflective, but otherwise it was simply a massive shallow silver dish laid against the wall.

“Portal technology has not advanced much since the days of Starwirl.” Maneframe said.

“Star-who?” Vibia scratched her head.

I sighed. There was nothing we could do now. Celestia and her ponies had already gone through. There was no putting that cat back in the bag.

“I’m going through.” I announced. I have to see Celestia, and get her side of things.

“That’s insane.” Maneframe said. “Celestia has lost much more than you and I, Twilight, and this is her way of coping.”

“By going on a potentially genocidal crusade?” I challenged. “I’ve been to the other worlds before, and I can assure you that absolutely none of them could withstand a technologically advanced army of supersoldier ponies.”

“Then do what you feel is right. It’s not as if I can stop you.” Maneframe said.

“You could still try to stop her.” Vibia suggested. “An then I can watch a sickass alicorn robot battle to the death!”

“What are you still doing here? Go back to the staging area, and evacuate with all the others.” This crude mare was starting to wear on me.

“I’m cool with just following you around.” Vibia said. “But maybe I have a deal for you. A coin toss. You win, I leave. I win, you sleep with me.”

“What the FUCK.” Maneframe balked.

“Watch your language missy.” I said. “And as for your bet, I refuse.”

“Pussy.” Vibia taunted.

“Did you know I could melt the fat off your bones while you still live to experience it?” I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Sounds sexy.” Vibia grinned.

That was it. I was leaving right then. I didn’t even care what crap Celestia might have waiting on the other side. I was crossing through the portal.

“Just so you know, the destination of the portal may have changed.” Maneframe was saying as I experienced the surreal transformations of dimensional shift.

Twilight IV: Trial Period

By the time I emerged from the tunnels into C.A.R.E. propper, the technicians had succeeded in getting the lights back on. Maneframe reported that the Board had dispatched more soldiers and personnel to fully secure the facility. Secure from what I could not guess. As empty as it was, the arcology could be as safe with one pony as with a hundred.

And then their was the monkey asleep on by back. In it’s own world, it had been a human, though it’s coloration and proportions were different from the humans I knew from the dimension of Canterlot High. In Equestria it was a monkey, an embarrassing situation for the creature to be sure. I had him sedated until I found a time and place to deal with him.

My first venture into the new world had been very brief, just long enough to kidnap the human. What had come over me, to decide to do something like that? It had been panic.

I hadn’t transformed into a human, and so could not have blended in with the native population. However on the other side I was… Restored. For the short time I had been there, I was as I had been four hundred years ago. It had overwhelmed me emotionally, something I was still not really recovered from.

“That thing on your back’s a dude, right?” Vibia waggled her eyebrows.

This wasn’t getting old at all.  I glared at the little teamster pony. “Maybe you are just joking as a way to alleviate the stress you are feeling, and the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Maybe the fact that you lost more blood than should be survivable is affecting your inhibitions. Is that what this is, or are you genuinely considering relations with a primate?”

“Maybe I think it’s funny.”

“While you may think constantly joking about sex is amusing, it really isn’t.”

“I concur.” Maneframe said from behind us.

“You’re both jaded prudes.”

I turned to Maneframe. “Is this what the average laborer is like in this day in age?”

“No. This one is exceptionally crass.”

Vibia scowled. “Well fuck you too.” She threw her head back, and cantered ahead. “If you want to apologize, I’ll be in my room!”

“She’s uncomfortable in her new world.” I said.

“She’s just trying to compensate for the insecurity she’s feeling.” Maneframe added.

I realized what we’d said half a moment before Maneframe did. We were projecting.

“I’m going to take a look at the biology labs.” I sighed. “If half the things you said about super-soldiers is true… Well let’s just say I need to see it for myself.”

“I’ll be at the upper levels helping the soldiers tallying everything.” Maneframe quickly relplied. “This observer will go with you.”

The smaller lilac robot had stayed with us despite Maneframe now using the alicorn-sized twinbot.

“How close to one of your magic chips do I have to be to hear you?” I asked.

“Fifty feet in open air, but the but it’s muddled by obstacles. About the same as speech.” Maneframe’s voice resonated in my head in demonstration.

“Then stay close.” I said to the observer.

-

I found an empty bedroom and lay the monkey down on the bed. I didn’t want him waking up at an inopportune moment. Locking the door, and followed the observer to the lowest levels of the biology labs.

Every lab was like the room I had found Vibia in Surgical theatres, floors caked with blood and other fluids. The walls were lined with tables covered with machinery and chemicals, absolutely none of which I recognized. Above every bad was a robotic doctor, whose eight limbs dangling clenching tightly to scalpels and suture. In some rooms, the robots had reactivated, and were purposefully spreading even more blood and gore around the rooms.

But the true horrors were what lay on the beds. Ponies grown to outrageous proportions, their own muscles crushing their insides. Ponies too young to have their cutie mark were made into monsters by chemicals and hormones injected into their blood. The elderly with mismatched grafts over their skin. And these were just the failures. The ones that survived had likely gone to the other world with Celestia.

Augmentation. Physical augmentation to turn normal ponies into the supersoldiers Celestia needed. I was beyond disgusted. This technology was meant to improve the lives of ponies, not turn them into monsters.

“Bad news.” Maneframe’s voice in my head announced. “The reactor is critically low on fuel. Everything they left is in deteriorated condition. Record say there should still be hundreds of rods, but the storerooms are empty. I’ve notified the Board asking for replacements but no reply yet.”

“They really weren't planning on coming back.” I said. And how could they, after leaving so much evidence of the brutal and disgusting things that happened here. It had been all or nothing, and Celestia had chosen all.

We moved up a floor. I was expecting more of the same twisted genetic experiments, so I was prepared as I entered the first room.

It was a swamp green unicorn on the table. Right away, I noticed that most of the digestive system had been removed, and glancing around I saw it laying on a rack nearby. The heart had been carefully sliced apart, each chamber perforated and each valve removed. I didn’t know what this meant until I saw that certain sections of the aorta were replaced by tubing.

They had killed the pony trying replace it’s organs with machinery. I backed out of the room, and in peering into the other rooms saw that similar stories were laying in all the adjacent labs as well.

Cyborg ponies were old news to me. Celestia and Luna had been two of the first to receive implants, to better help them with the endless task of steering ponykind clear of extinction.

Luna was built into her space station, NavPoint Luna, high above me in geosynchronous. If all the arcologies on the planet failed, the ponies frozen with her would patiently wait for her to awake them as the last of the species. The implant was almost like a lobotomy, allowing her to patiently wait the millennia out.

Celestia wanted to be more hooves-on, and her implants gave her heightened sensory and cognitive function. Unlike Luna, she was independant of her life-support system and Overmind. The other part of her implant was a very powerful magic chip, which allowed her to telekinetically guide the twin bot. It was just like Celestia to want to be in two places at once.

What I saw on the tables here in the labs was a whole different beast. Everything was internally contained, and I bet that once they were closed up, the ponies would show no signs of augmentation. On closer examination, most of what I saw was a smaller version of familiar parts from my time. Great advances in miniaturization had been made, it seemed.

But one thing nagged me. Why had these ponies died? The technology was centuries old, and should have been perfectly safe to put in most everypony. There was no reason I could think of that there should be corpses on the operating tables.

“They were abandoned mid-surgery.” Maneframe read my thoughts. “When it was time to leave, they dropped what they were doing. They dropped everything.”

This was unbelievable. How could this be justified? If Celestia was really leaving to save ponykind, she should have prevented these pointless death. I had been detached before and, though I loathed to admit that Vibia was right, jaded. But I was getting angry, and not just acting angry, but truly and deeply furious.

I was trying to control by breathing. I was determined to move on, mentally challenging this damnable facility to horrify me more, when the observer blocked my path. “I just looked in there. You don’t want to see it. It’s not pretty.”

“Try me.” I brushed past her.

It was a cryogenic warehouse, an addition, since the other cryovaults were spaced around the hospital on my original design. Row after row of partially completed bodies sat in cryogenic stasis pods, the iced over viewports letting me see the face of each of them. Or rather, just the three.

Clones. The things here where clones of three ponies I knew very well. It shouldn’t have been possible, for I knew that the genetic progenitors, my dear friends Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, were under H.A.R.M, in my own cryogenic vault.

“No. No. Celestia what have you done.” I muttered, running a hoof down one of the pods.

The clop of metal on metal behind me heralded the twinbot’s approach. “Project Crusader, it’s called. It was meant to be the third generation of supersoldier created here, but they apparently left with everything unfinished.”

There were hundreds of them. Incomplete, unliving, mockeries of the happiest trio on the planet, twisted into grunts designed only for murder.

“How did C.A.R.E. get their genetic code?” I asked.

“I gave it to them.” Maneframe responded.

I sputtered in disbelief. “You did what?!”

“Overmind said it was for a new gene sequencing technique, and she wanted a sample from each of the three tribes, ones from before our isolation from the surface. It seemed logical to send these three.”

Something snapped. Profanity worth of this crime against nature spilled from my lips. “I swear! I swear on all the gods and all the graves of ponykind, I’m going to kill that fucker!”

“They’re very near to completion now.” Maneframe said, peering into one of the pods. “I you allowed it, I could probably finish-”

“No!” I cut her off. “I’m going to destroy them, and then I’m going to destroy Celestia! These things should never have existed!”

“And yet they do.” Maneframe cocked her head. “They have the potential for life, like an unborn fetus. The alternative is to abort them.”

I was shocked beyond words. How could Maneframe be so calm in sight of what amounted to a hundred dead friends. Even worse what what they could have been if completed: Killing machines. “This was ponies playing god! Hubris is what brought us to the brink of extinction once, and I’ll be damned if I let it happen again!”

“Celestia, misguided though she may be, wants nothing more than to secure the future of her species.” Maneframe said. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course it is! But I’d only do this as a last resort!”

“And so it was with Celestia.”

I screamed, until I was hoarse. Then I sighed. Being angry was too tiring for me. “Well I’m not that desperate. I’ll... keep them intact, for now. Their fate can be decided later.”

“A wise choice.” Maneframe nodded.

“I just can’t believe it.” I muttered. “I thought four hundred years had turned you batty. I just can’t BELIEVE Celestia would change so much, that she would condone, or even ORDER this kind of thing.”

Maneframe draped a cold metal hoof over my shoulder. “It started out innocent, and grew into something dreadful. Look at Vibia, for example.”

“Damn stupid as she is, I don’t foresee her conducting any genetic surgeries.” I choked a bit from the tears, and a bit from my effort at humor.

Maneframe stared at me. “It has just occurred to me that you don’t sense machinery like I do.”

“What are you getting at?” I asked.

“Not all the augmentations created killing machines.” Maneframe said. “Now I wonder, how are we going to tell Vibia that she was turned into a cyborg?”

Handridg III: Loosing TransDimensional Virginity

What stood before me could be described as no less than a monstrosity. It's body resembled that of a horse, though it's fur was a hue of purple. As if it's color had not betrayed this demon's disguise it had several qualities it had not entirely concealed. It had a pair of massive wings, feathered, which hugged it's sides closely, but stirred slightly as the beast moved. Second was a single horn, textured like the keratin of their hoof, but the same purple.

The most telling that this creature was demonic, and not simply a fairytale come to life, was it's face. Instead of the proportions of an equine face, the beast had the face not unlike a child's. It's eyes were large and forward facing, it's nose relatively short. It's mouth was structured like that of a man, looking like it had the musculature to smile or emote.

But right now, the purple horse-demon was frowning. It's unnaturally large eyes, delineated at the top by human-like eyebrows, were trained directly on me. I stared back, hypnotized by them, unable took look away as the creature drew nearer. It opened it's mouth, undoubtedly to pronounce hellish judgment upon me. Instead, it whinnied.

The two of us shared a look of surprise. The beast continued to vocalize, and it's piercing cries began to hurt my ears. This had the effect to breaking my thrall, and I turned to run from the abomination.

Before I could move five feet, I was seized by a an invisible hand, which plucked me off the ground, and held my limbs rigidly in place. I was pulled backwards through the air, and although I could not see it I was sure the beast was drawing me into it's maw.

I was spun around, and saw that I was indeed only inches from the horse's mouth. With me in it's intangible grasp, it slowly retreated back to the Western Wall. Just as it had come, the beast walked through it's surface, the stones warping around it's body liquidly. To my horror, I was not released when the horse had completed it's disappearance. I impacted the wall, face first, but found the wall yielded for me as well.

My vision exploded into a whirlpool of color, coming from an imperceptible point on the horizon, I fell towards this point, freely and uncontrollably, the walls of rainbow color rushing past me. After a moment, I was able to slow my tumble, until I had managed to align myself stomach downward and limbs outstretched.

I could see the purple horse beneath me, also approaching the point, though I could see it was using it's wings to maneuver. I watched it dive and swoop, managing to stay beneath me despite it's apparently controlled fall.

I had come to the conclusion that the beast had pulled me through the gateway to hell. Very soon, I reasoned, I would de deposited into limbo beside my demonic captor, where he would bind me with the other nonbelivers.

Suddenly, the rainbow tunnel compressed and expanded rapidly. I felt as though my body was being crushed and stretched simultaneously. It did not hurt, but I became ill as my every nerve numbed. The end of the tunnel came upon me very quickly, the small dot expanding to encompass the edges of my vision.

My orientation relative to gravity changed and I was tossed out of the tunnel. Retaining my not insignificant momentum, I bounced several times across the ground before I rolled to a stop, face down. My body was still numb, so thankfully I was spared the pain of the bones I had almost certainly broken.

I took metal inventory. Whatever my face was pressed into was soft and yielded to my weight. My clothes had disappeared. The air was cold against the back of my neck. A slight draft ruffled my hair and back hair.

Wait a second. I don't have back hair.

My discovery was interrupted by my hearing returning. A voice, nay, multiple voices, were having a discussion above me. My environment was silent save for the voices. I was relieved by the absence of tortured screams and damned souls.

Something jabbed my side. When I didn't respond, the air was filled with urgent chatter. I was jabbed again, and I managed to gurgle in protest. The voices gasped, and suddenly I had a dozen appendages on me, flipping me over.

I kept my eye's closed. There were three distinct voices I could hear, all female. They spoke in a language I couldn't understand, but recognized. The occasional german cognate and latin influence betrayed the language as English, which I had heard spoken by my knight companions.

Something nudged my face, pushing into my cheek. I decided to feign unconsciousness, and I groaned and consciously fluttered my eyes. I had often played this game with my mother to avoid work. However, my cunning tactic failed me, and only served to provoke more jabs. One of the voices began speaking at me, taking directly into my ear.

I cracked an eye open, hoping to see my assailants. The sight shocked me so much my eyes snapped open to corroborate myself. The purple horse had returned, though it’s appearance was changed. It was much more suited to hell now, looking the part of death itself with its skeletal frame. It was flanked by three more beasts.

To the right stood a silver horse, standing a head taller than it's purple comrade. It also possessed a pair of wings and a single horn. To the left stood a much shorter horse. One was normal save for that same horrific face, lacking wings or horn, it's coat was a pale brown and it's hair deep brown. The three horse-beasts expressed what I could tell was a mix of concern and suspicion. I was unwilling to wait to see if their intentions matched their unnatural faces.

I tried to scramble to my feet, a prelude to running away screaming, but I was knocked upside the head by an unseen adversary. The fifth voice who had been beside me, whom I had forgotten about in my panic, came into my view as I fell back to the ground.

It was another silver horse, but this one lacked he too-human face of the others. It lacked a face enterally.

“Please don't hurt me.” I whimpered repeatedly, alternating between languages. The demon horses broke into excited discussion, and I could see for the first time the horrific movements of their lips as they imitated human speech.

The brown horse pressed me against the floor, yelling directly into my face. I noticed how the gnashing teeth above me where those of a human, not a horse. It became clear these beasts where going to kill me and steal my face. This revelation was enough to push me over the edge.

I broke into tears. I didn't want to die, least of all at the hands of demon horses. As I wailed, the brown horse pulled away, allowing me to curl up into a ball. Feeling safer already, my hysterics calmed.

I sniffled and loosened up. The horses had stopped talking and had in fact withdrawn to the other side of the room. The purple and brown ones had concerned faces, while the silver ones maintained their impassive and absent gazes. They where letting me make the first move.

I rolled into sitting position, but began to panic once more once I say the state of my body. It appeared as though someone had exchanged mine for that of a dwarf covered in fur. I waved a lanky arm before me, examined my fingers. My little hands no longer had fingerprints.

I gasped in realization. I had seen several bizarre creatures on the docks of Acre, and I saw the similarities between my body and that of one of these. I was a monkey.

I looked back at the horses. The purple one who had pulled me from the earth must have also warped my body so. I was only glad I retained my mental faculties. I decided to make use of them.

“Where am I.” I said in pomeranian. I received no response. So I asked again in german and latin. Still the horses only stood and looked at me.

“I know you demons can understand...” I stopped. It was then I realized I was not truly speaking. My words were not coming fully formed, but as a garbled mix of chirps and screams. I had lost my voice, by new biology restricting my vocal range to animal sounds.

“Damn it!” I spat. I tried to stand, and found my furry stick legs to be very unstable. Still I walked across the small room. Behind the horses was a door, and behind me was a massive ornamental mirror.

I examined myself in the mirror. I was indeed a monkey, standing little over half what I had as a human. My hair, interestingly, was the same shade of dark brown as it had been. I was greatly embarrassed at my lack of clothes, but thankfully everything was obscured by fur.

But what of my possessions! My bible and coin where in my pockets. I couldn't properly go through hell without those!

I wheeled around and approached the horses. They tensed, but otherwise did not react.

“Where's my stuff? I need my stuff?” I directed my questions at the purple horse, since it was the one who had brought me. I pantomimed reading a book and flipping a coin.

The room was silent for several moments. Then the purple one took a step forward. With my diminished height, I barely came up to the stomach of the beast. It leaned towards me, it's withered nose just inches from my own.

It's speech rang softly and full of compassion, though I couldn't decipher the English. The horse's breath smelled like mint and wild berries. It had no intention of me understanding the words, only the message, 'Trust Me'.

I was unsure. This beast had dragged me to hell and taken my body and things. Then again, it was easily hextuple my size, and could crush me easily. I decided to oblige the thing.

“Fine.” I chirped. I held out my paw, intending to receive a pact-concluding handshake. The purple horse's horn glowed with the same ethereal energy I'd seen by the wall. The conscious drained from me, and I fell unconscious.