‘Psst Rainbow, wake up.’

The bright blue pegasus’ ears twitched involuntarily at having heard the sound of their owner’s name. Her mind however had no intention of obeying the command to become conscious. Instead she tried defiantly to role onto her side, away from the demanding voice, but was immediately stopped by something jabbing her in the ribs. Feeling a tightened strap around her middle, she realised that she must be wearing her saddlebags. A second pressure around her forehead suggested she had on her flying goggles as well, meaning the fluffy mass she was nestled in was probably a cloud and not her bed as she had at first assumed. Resisting the efforts of both the bruised pain in her side and her brain’s gradual activation, as it attempted to work out her situation, she grabbed a bundle of cloud and buried her head beneath it.

‘C’mon Rainbow, get up.’

The voice was now half-recognisable, showing regrettably that its incessant attempts to wake her were having some effect. Realising the speaker was not going to let up she surrendered, excavating herself from below the cloud pillow and tentatively opening her eyes. To her surprise she was not immediately assaulted by the late morning sun, as was the norm, or even the intense light of the afternoon, which was also a frequent waking occurrence and would explain the nagging she was receiving. To the confusion of her not yet entirely lucid thoughts she was presented with a view of fading stars and a descending crescent moon, both departing in preparation for the dawn. Below her and stretching out in all directions were rolling fields of cloud, stained grey by the gradually retreating dark, but also dotted by patches of colour. Her keen eyes focused on these out of place patches and found that they were pegasus. All were in the midst of raising themselves from the swirling blanket and stretching, much like she was now doing, having been effectively awoken. They were decked in matching blue flight suits, goggles and saddlebags, all marked with gold sun insignia. This observation finally made her mind click: her squadron. Now turning she was met by the blank lens covered eyes of Misty Fly, the source of the persistent voice, wearing a similar blue suit to the others, but with additional lightning bolt markings.

‘You good?’ Misty brought a hoof through the well-coiffed strands of her striped mane as she asked the question.

‘All good’ lied Rainbow, bringing the goggles down from her forehead and smoothing out her own lightning streaked uniform as she said so. She had remembered exactly where she was and why she was there, sparking the return of reservations lost in sleep.

Misty nodded, turning her back to her leadpony and pointing to the saddlebags on her back. ‘Checks’ she said simply.

Rainbow approached the wingpony, first checking the bags’ straps and release cords before opening them to review the contents. In each lay a cluster of large, tightly corked and wax sealed vials of clear liquid, all well-padded to prevent them breaking upon one another during flight. The bottles looked much like the mess of alchemical equipment and supplies which resided in Twilight’s lab beneath Golden Oak Library, a thought which only escalated the doubts playing on her mind. Wincing with the effort of internal suppression, she tapped Misty on the shoulder and let the other mare make a reciprocal review of kit. Similar activity was going on amongst the rest of the pegasus present. Waiting for Misty’s verdict, she looked to the far distance, across the thick mat of clouds, and saw Spitfire and Silver Lightning finishing their own checks amongst their unit. They both in turn saw her, giving determined grins and waves. Before attempting a false smile in reply she received a pat from her partner, thankfully allowing her to look away. Her force had now assembled itself into two rows, the first made up of leaders and the second of wingponies, all waiting on the command to proceed: her command. At that moment the first of the sun’s rays broke over the horizon.

‘Dive!’ she yelled mechanically on cue, vainly trying and failing to impart confident resolve to her words.

Hooves struck the clouds, turning them from a smooth canvas to a perforated mass of holes, and everypony dropped into a dive. They dropped into the relative gloom of the world below, which was only now receiving the first light of day through the punctures they had kicked, having been denied the brightness of the night sky. In her element, Rainbow rode the high of the freefall, feeling the wind rushing past her face and letting the ground charge up to meet her. Misty raced her in the dissent, each daring the other to pull up first. Be it because of her insatiable competitiveness, intrinsic carelessness, total lack of concern for her own well-being or a combination of all three, Rainbow was the last to extend her wings. Waiting to the final possible moment, she pulled out of the dive, so narrowly escaping a crash that she felt the tickle of ferns brushing against her stomach. She now rose back into formation, basking in the adrenaline-fuelled afterglow of the stunt.

The familiar squat outlines of the edge of Ponyville loomed on the near horizon. In response to this sight a strange new sensation gripped her frame. For the first time in her life she actually wanted to fly slowly, so as to delay the inevitable, her wings refusing to make full beats through the air. Quickly however she was receiving a concerned look from Misty as the wingpony began to pull ahead. She sighed quietly and again increased her speed. On the horizon, just beyond the town, a formation of pegasus mirroring her own, were speeding toward the settlement. Seconds before the two units surging towards one another crossed into the outskirts of Ponyville, a third group burst through the clouds above the town, diving vertically onto their target. A roar of ‘Celestia’ went up amongst the ranks, breaking out into what had been the silence of early dawn. Yelling the battle cry with the rest, Rainbow’s forehooves went to the cords at her sides in order to release her saddlebags’ contents. As she did so however a familiar grass-thatched cottage, surrounded by trees whose branches were hung heavy with a great many birdhouses and feeders, placed by the shy pink-maned pegasus who lived there, came into view and caused her to hesitate. Her comrades meanwhile had no reservations, releasing the cargo in their bags to fall upon the buildings below. A series of crashing sounds rang forth, as the glass canisters struck their mark, immediately followed by plumes of flame as their liquid contents hit the air. Explosions erupted across Ponyville, along with torrents of fire leaping up toward the sky.

Before Rainbow’s eyes a trio of pegasus came screaming out of the air to dive bomb the cream-walled bakery which was Sugarcube Corner. In an instant the confection was burnt, the white frosting which ringed its roof instantly being scorched black. As something ignited inside, the whole building spontaneously exploded and the sudden blast of light shot images into her mind. She was no longer in Ponyville but flapping across a crevasse of distant memory, her five best friends trotting across a dilapidated rope bridge at her side. Her lips began to move forming words which emerged as sounds entirely beyond her control: ‘See, I’d never leave my friends hanging.’ Her other self’s conviction as she said those words was in complete opposition to objections she could feel painfully gnawing at her heart. Mist curled up from the chasm below and obscured her sight, but as it did so it changed, gaining the acrid scent of smoke. She shook her head, attempting to clear the fog from both her vision and mind, as she exited the noxious plume emanating from the burning husk of the bakery.

A second prominent explosion rose up from Carousel Boutique as its roof collapsed, throwing a torrent of clothing and fabric into the surrounding streets. Out of the dust rose a large ream of cloth, carried by an updraft of superheated air, which hung fluttering for a moment like a banner. The clouded sky behind this impromptu flag became a vast painted ceiling and she was now in the Canterlot Palace throne room, stepping onto a royal bodyguard flanked carpet. Each pair of guards she passed bowed their heads on each side of her, creating a ripple through their number, until she reached the Solar Princess’ seated form at the end of the crimson surface. Her lips again moved of their own accord and once more a determined voice came forth, this time amplified by the vaulted space. ‘I hereby swear absolute allegiance to our radiant sovereign Princess Celestia and the Solar Empire, which flourishes only under her caring gaze. In this I pledge my life to the defence of the realm from all enemies, both within and without. Should I ever falter in this duty or my loyalty ever waver, let me be cast from her light and into the lifeless abyss of the shadow beyond.’ As she found herself completing the oath, the royal alicorn before her gave an accepting bow of her crowned head. Following this signal, an armour-clad stallion stepped forth from the left side of the solar throne. He passed the rainbow pegasus her prize: a neatly folded flight suit, with a gold badge lying on top. In her mind’s eye she snatched the trophy, but in grasping the much desired object her inner self thought it felt somehow weightless and at the same time lacked lustre, in spite of its brilliantly polished surface. The sun’s rays cascading through the hall’s windows reflected off the winged lightning bolt symbol, clutched possessively in her hooves, and were reflected into her eyes, whiting out all vision.

Back in reality Misty made a series of hoof signals, questioning whether there was something wrong with Rainbow’s rig. Instinctively she replied honestly, shaking her head, and immediately regretted it, now lacking any excuse not to act. ‘They’re just traitors’ she told herself, repeating the phrase several times in an attempt to give it greater impact. In spite of her best efforts tears began to well in her eyes, forming small pools in the bottom of her goggles, as she loyally forced herself to pull on the cords. ‘Just don’t look down’ she thought, even as her eyes began to descend. ‘Don’t look down!’ she repeated, her inner self now shouting its order, but in spite of these protests she could not help it. Behind her a trail of vials fell to earth, creating a line of violent detonations which merged with others, now criss-crossing the streets like open wounds. The last few bottles dropped from her sides in a group, falling like a cluster of apples during harvest time on AJ’s farm. Instead of a bucket however, what waited to receive them were the outstretched arms of a particularly large oak tree, seeming entirely out of place amongst the Ponyville cottages around it. A balcony, through whose window she had often burst unannounced, stood prominent from the trunk and was first to be hit, its supports failing under the impact, causing it to plummet to the cobbles below. Within seconds the whole of Golden Oak Library was aflame, fires hungrily devouring the ancient tree and all its contents. Gazing down at the increasingly blackened skeleton, a fitting harbinger of what this act had unleashed, she knew that this was the end. The box had been opened, with no way to close its lid, meanwhile all bridges back had collapsed, like the tree was now doing, leaving no way back and no retreat from what had been released. ‘Goodbye Twilight’ thought Rainbow, as she turned back toward Canterlot, followed by a uniform formation of loyal pegasus.

Dinky was alone. She did not like being alone, but mommy had told her to be a ‘brave filly’ and she liked making mommy proud. ‘I just have to go get my friend,’ mommy had said, ‘so just wait here and be extra super quiet till I get back. Okay?’ Mommy had then left her hiding in a bush, whilst she went back into town. The bush was not very comfortable: the branches were scratchy and the ground beneath it was damp, but mommy had also left her a muffin and that made everything better.1 While she had tucked into the blueberry-stuffed treat, mommy had walked off to find her friend, which was weird now she thought about it because mommy really liked flying. That had been a long time ago and Dinky was now a bit bored of sitting in the dark. She did not like the dark either, but mommy had also told her that this was like hide and seek, so she resisted the urge to make a magical light. At the same time she was trying really hard not to let her horn give off any sparks, but this was tough because she was pretty excited. This was the latest she had ever stayed up. In fact she had been surprised when mommy had woken her up and said they had to go somewhere, because normally when she wanted to stay up mommy would tell her that sleep was very important.

Dinky pulled her dark blue cloak more closely around her shoulders to stave off the cold. The warm fabric helped but at the same time it made her feel sleepy, bringing a massive yawn to her face. She quickly shook her head, wanting to be awake when mommy came back. Shuffling forward, she peaked out of the undergrowth to look back at town, hoping to see mommy and her friend, even though she did not know who this friend was, but there was nopony around. The sky was filled with dark grey clouds, masking the night sky from her view. This made Dinky feel a bit sad because she loved seeing the stars and the moon. It was like they were hiding from her, just like she was hiding from… well she was not sure what she was hiding from actually. As she strained her eyes searching for a gap in the clouds, a large number of holes suddenly appeared across the sky and a swarm of flapping shapes whizzed through them. She could not help but let out a small surprised squeak, immediately covering her mouth with her forehooves as she remembered that she was supposed to be staying quiet. On realising that the flapping shapes were pegasus she calmed down a bit. Maybe mommy was amongst them. However none of them seemed to be flying in her direction and mommy had walked into town anyway, not flown. Dinky watched the winged-ponies form into two groups, both flying towards each other from opposite directions. A third group of pegasus appeared, diving out of the clouds like the first two had, making it look like the three groups were going to make a massive t-shape above town. It was like the air show mommy had taken her to a while ago in Cloudsdale, where she had seen the Wonderbolts perform. Because she could not walk around on clouds like pegasus could, mommy had flown her around on her back all day, which was loads of fun. Back then she had been slightly sad that she did not have wings, but mommy had promised to always be around to give her rides.

Dinky waited expectantly for the three groups to come together and make their t-shape over town, although she was confused why they were performing their stunt at night, but before this could happen, a series of flashes erupted below them. Another squeak escaped her mouth at the unexpected lightshow, along with a small flash of silver sparks which leapt from her horn. A few seconds later a stream of loud bangs struck her ears, causing them to fall flat against the sides of her head and her whole body to jump back in alarm. Now cowering from the noise beneath the safety of her cloak, her eyes grew into saucers as the whole horizon became a seething mass of orange, punctuated by white-hot bursts. At the same time the hillsides surrounding the firestorm were lit up by bright flares, revealing the shadowy outlines of figures stood upon them, and shining orbs trailed across the sky in a multitude of colours, to shower down into the mess of dancing flames. ‘Mommy?’ the pale filly’s question briefly hung uncertainly in the air, before being swiftly snuffed out by the distant crescendo of explosions. ‘Mommy?’ her voice cracked slightly as she cried out, repeating the question, fear slipping into her voice as the last of the town’s buildings vanished in amongst the swirling smoke and fire. ‘Mommy!’

‘Cease firing!’ The order was echoed several times around the straight ranks of gold-clad ponies. A last few bolts of magic arced across the sky, to land in Ponyville along with the final payloads dropped by pegasus overhead. By now the town was mostly aflame, the dancing orange light banishing the last vestiges of night lingering in the dawn. A white unicorn strode out before the assembled troops, barking her second order: ‘forward!’ Immediately the entire armoured multitude moved forth in perfect harmony, nopony out of sync, making the earth shake beneath their rhythmic hoof-falls. Before this regimented mass marched the unicorn, resplendent in the ornate armour of an officer, with the addition of excessive blue plumage on her helmet. Carefully chosen sapphires, which in her opinion were tonally perfect in the outfit and acted as a wonderful counterpoint to the purple of her mane, gleamed on the suit’s pauldrons. These both identified her rank and marked her out as one of the royal bodyguard. She was amongst the elite and most trusted of Celestia’s agents and the gaudy shine of her armour, inlayed with crystal accents, made sure that everypony knew it.

‘All clear Rarity’ came a voice from above.

The unicorn sighed in frustration. Everypony that was except the Wonderbolts who, following Rainbow’s example, seemed entirely incapable of using the correct address of ‘ma’am’ which befitted her title of Field Marshall. Rarity decided to let the act of misconduct go uncontested, largely because the formation of pegasus was rapidly moving out of ear shot, but woe betide any of her own soldiers should they make the mistake of descending to such informality.

The columns descended the hillside in silence, the disgusting smell of burnt flesh and singed hair rising to assault their advancing nostrils. As soon as they entered the crippled and failing body, which but an hour before had been a quietly slumbering town, they dispersed into pre-determined groups in order to scour it for the traitors obviously hidden within. Rarity led her force to the centre of Ponyville, on route passing Carousel Boutique. The building’s roof had collapsed and now all that remained was a twisted ribcage of timber, with flames gradually consuming its insides. She heard the crunch of glass beneath her bladed shoes, the shop’s windows having been shattered by explosions within and their shards thrown outwards, and she chose to briefly pause. At her hooves lay a debris field of silk, ribbons and dresses, all lightly smouldering and looking like the spilled guts of a savagely butchered creature. Bright colours and patterns steadily faded into grey ash, reducing years of organised labour to mere black stains on the ground. Anger at once shot through her. All of this was their fault and they would pay. With this thought and a fresh glare adorning her face, she set off again. The lesser commanders that flanked her, perfectly anticipated her movements and fell in to line at her side, followed by the rest of her personal cohort. All those who could not instinctively follow in this manner had already been culled from their number.

The expanse of flagstones which made up Ponyville’s central square, stretching out before the town hall, was now a mass of hectic activity. Crowds of ponies were being quickly led in from surrounding streets, searched and then corralled at its centre, having been ejected from their homes whilst the soldiers methodically ransacked each dwelling. The wretched prisoners themselves stood silently in neat rows, all covered in a mix of cuts, bruises and burns. Rarity allowed herself a satisfied smile, but she did not let it stretch too far, after all her forces were the best because she kept them on the tips of their hooves. For all its speed the operation was proceeding in a well ordered fashion, meeting her very exacting standards. The town’s main hall, which also served as the centre of local government, amazingly was still standing, in spite of several direct hits. Its spire however was leaning crazily to one side, making the now crooked structure seem as if it could collapse at any time. This was a dreadful shame as, apart from her own boutique, the hall was one of the few things which brought a level of class to this hovel of a hamlet. The thought of her ruined shop brought fresh rage to the front of her mind, extinguishing the small grin she had permitted and replacing it with a scowl as hard as marble.

‘Ma’am,’ a pale green stallion said as he approached and brought his right hoof up in a salute, ‘we have detained the mayor.’ He could not quite disguise a faint stutter in his voice as he said this, presumably an unsure response to her look of anger.

She nodded in reply: ‘lead the way.’

Out of the main doors and down the front steps of the town hall, a bedraggled brown earth mare, limped, encouraged by prods from the spiked hooves of a pair of gold armour-encased stallions at her back. A set of spectacles balanced pointlessly on her nose, their rims now holding only a few lingering shards of the lens they once contained, whilst the tattered remnants of a suit collar remained around her neck. Rarity and her party approached, led by the victorious green officer who had taken the prize.

Recognition appeared in the mayor’s blue eyes and she spoke: ‘Rarity… why… why have you done this?’

‘You have nopony to blame but yourself dear’ came the unicorn’s blunt reply. ‘Now where are the traitors hiding?’

‘But we declared Ponyville’s neutrality’ the mayor responded, not answering the question, to the annoyance of her interrogator.

‘What you did was refuse entry to the forces of Princess Celestia, whilst blatantly harbouring vile schismatics’ said Rarity, throwing out the accusation to nods of agreement from her soldiers.

‘We’ve “harboured” nopony!’ replied the mayor, now becoming angry. ‘We refuse to take either side in this…’

‘And in doing so you’ve chosen betrayal’ interrupted Rarity, in a patronising sigh. ‘In not standing with your sovereign you have chosen to stand against her.’

‘Our refusal to turn away any injured pony, whatever their ideology, does not represent treachery!’ the earth mare shouted, falling into exasperation as the unicorn wanted.

‘Injured hmmm… so I assume they’re in the hospital yes?’ said Rarity, a self-satisfied and slightly sinister smile on her lips. ‘Thank you dear, now take her away.’

The mayor again opened her mouth to make protest, but received a viscous jab in the ribs from one of the guards, silencing her. The interrogation successfully conducted, Rarity turned to the adjutant on her right. ‘Commander, you will oversee the conclusion of the operation here, whilst I’ll personally take a small force to pacify Ponyville General’ she ordered, instantly receiving a reply of ‘yes ma’am’ from the soldier.

Back into the fire-scarred streets the column marched, looking like spectres as they moved through the fog of smoke and weaving between piles of wreckage. They swam against a tide of prisoners being escorted in the opposite direction, whilst on either side unyielding buildings had their doors bucked from their hinges, as soldiers entered to the sound of fearful cries from within. Ash was beginning to settle in heaps, making a soft carpet for their steps. Rarity however was far more concerned by the threat of dirt dulling her armour’s shine, resulting in her neurotically brushing herself down at every opportunity. Looking for a reflective surface to survey herself in, she noticed a small hoof hanging limply out of a pile of rubble, blood pooling out from amongst the mix of snapped timber and cracked brickwork. Her reaction was to step carefully around the ghastly sight, making sure not to mar her hooves with the crimson ichor. All at once they had crossed again through the town’s outskirts and before them lay the imposing structure of Ponyville’s hospital, another building remarkably unharmed by explosions. The only obvious damage had been done to the sign which stood before the entrance, having been blasted by a nearby detonation, leaving the four heart symbols which decorated it peppered with shrapnel. Beside this a trio of medical ponies defiantly blocked the path, two of whom she recognised from previous visits as Doctor Stable and Nurse Redheart.

‘What do you want here?’ asked the doctor, as he stepped boldly forward to face the approaching force.

‘Hello again doctor, it’s been a while’ Rarity replied pleasantly ‘you look well.’

‘What do you want?’ he repeated.

‘Well straight to the point then’ she sighed to her fellow unicorn. ‘We are aware that there are a number of rebels being treated on these premises. You will direct us to them.’

‘I am under oath to help anypony in need and everypony here is under my care’ the caramel stallion answered, maintaining his defensive stance. ‘I cannot let you jeopardise their treatment or my integrity.’

Rarity sighed again: ‘Doctor I’m a busy mare and we’re going to search the place anyway, whether you like it or not…’

‘No’ he interrupted, to her annoyance.

She waved her hoof and five soldiers stepped forward, igniting their horns and flexing their forehooves. ‘This is your last warning.’
In response Stable merely called magic to his own horn, sending a bolt towards the nearest of his attackers. The shot however missed its target, the well-trained stallion skilfully dodging, as his compatriots charged. The melee, ultimately merely an exercise in futility, was over quickly, restraining magic enveloping the doctor, as bladed hooves fell upon him. A last blow impacted against his face with a jarring crack, as the bone beneath failed. Magic fetters left the doctor and he collapsed, jaw hanging uselessly open, limp and broken. Redheart and the third pony, another nurse mare with a blue coat and cyan mane who Rarity did not recognise, rushed forward to their fallen comrade, before being restrained by the armoured stallions.

‘You will direct me to where the dissenters are or I will personally have this place torn apart to find them, followed by you’ she levelled the threat at the unknown nurse, whose name tag read “Tenderheart”.

Faced with this brutally impregnable will and thinking of the many fresh patients in town who would need the hospitals care, the medical mare yielded. ‘Third floor, room 48’ she sighed, regretting every word.

‘Thank you darling. Now you four with me and the rest of you create a perimeter, no one in or out’ Rarity said, turning from the nurse to her troops. Salutes and ‘yes ma’am’s followed, as the white unicorn magically pushed open the building’s front doors. As she entered she was immediately engulfed by the scent particular of hospitals, that specific antiseptic smell which somehow always manages to seem too clean and therefore lifeless. At the same time the place was colourless: all white hallways, white curtains and white furniture. All this conspired to make the place inevitably drip a foreboding sense of death. Although she admired the attention to tonal detail and cleanliness, Rarity still found the wards distasteful, not to mention entirely lacking in the internal decorations which the imposing external architecture seemed to promise. She chose to pass quickly through the sterile corridors of identical doors, soon reaching the third floor and the target room. On her approach however, frantic movements could be heard within, forcing her to rush forward, followed by the four armoured stallions accompanying her. Her hooves battered the door off its hinges and she was presented by a small three bed room, with a single occupant laid out on one of them. Noticing an open window, she cursed that she had not thought about disguising the recognisable sound of their marching hooves, assuming that somepony had heard them coming and made an escape. ‘Search the room’ she ordered, as she moved towards the one occupied bed and set her helmet to one side. In it lay a pale-yellow coated earth mare, with a chaotically curly orange mane, matching the colour of three carrots which made up her cutie mark. Treated injuries presented themselves to her gaze, most prominent being a long line of stitching running the length of the pony’s side, along with a copiously bandaged foreleg. Rarity thought that she recognised the mare, but had to look at a chart at the foot of the bed to give her a name, also noting that the patient was overdue a fresh dose of painkillers.

‘Golden Harvest?’ she questioned emotionlessly, as if this were a normal introduction.

The mare gave a nod, obvious fear playing behind her emerald eyes.

‘So what brings you to Ponyville General this fine morning?’ the purple-maned unicorn continued, applying a synthetic pleasantness to her voice.

‘Well… I had a bit of an accident in the… garden yesterday and…’

‘You poor thing,’ interrupted Rarity, again looking at the bed’s notes, ‘but however did you manage to get a “third-degree burn, probably of magical origin” whilst gardening dear?’

The earth mare immediately fell into terrified silence, her eyes darting about as if a legitimate excuse lay somewhere amongst the room’s medical paraphernalia. Rarity just studied her now uncomfortably squirming subject, becoming increasingly aware of how satisfying this was. She had always enjoyed taking charge, so the pleasure of rank and command was no surprise, but never before had she had the opportunity to be in such total control of another’s very existence. The mix of absolute power and successful manipulation was quite potent, providing pleasurable sensations akin to a rush. One of her soldiers approached, breaking her from her thoughts, holding a piece of dark blue fabric and a small silver item, stating: ‘we found this cloak in one of the cupboards and this badge by the window ma’am. Probably fell off as somepony left in a hurry.’ She took the shiny insignia, turning it over in her hooves. What it depicted was a skull, with a single feathered wing extending from the back of its cranium.

‘I assume the cloak is yours,’ Rarity began, resuming the interrogation, ‘but who does this badge belong to?’

‘I have no idea’ came the all too rapid reply, the question wrenching the mare from her futile quest for a better answer to the first.

Rarity sighed. ‘Now look, as it stands I already can’t abide you rebellious types, but by lying you stand to truly test my patience’ she said coldly, with the exited feeling building within her.

‘I really don’t know’ in a frightened and yet determined tone was all that this tacit threat elicited.

‘Well I didn’t want to have to undo these fine doctors’ handiwork, but you’ve forced my hoof.’ The unicorn gave a shrug and then continued: ‘I think it’s time that dressing was changed.’ All at once the bed and its occupant were enveloped in a light blue aura and a set of restraints, kept for particularly unruly patients, came to life, snaking onto Golden Harvest’s hooves, which were kept from moving by the magic. Once the ties and buckles were tightly fastened the blue glow subsided, leaving the ginger mare defencelessly splayed out and held in place. The four stallion soldiers moved on cue to surround the bed, removing any chance of escape, even if the restraints broke, and Rarity set to work, first gently unwinding the bandages on the mare’s leg. What was revealed was a large circular burn, a recognisable magical fire or lightning impact, surrounded by black scabs and remnants of fur, with a yellow-green viscous centre, criss-crossed by a network of red lines. The wound looked obviously tender, only in the first stages of healing. She now telekinetically moved a trolley of medical equipment, which she had seen on entering the room, to her side, briefly perusing its contents before selecting a set of stitching needles. For some reason she found herself wanting for air, having been holding her breath in anticipation, causing her to inhale deeply as she readied one of the pointed objects. The needle descended into the centre of the wound, its wielder feeling an inner surge as it pierced the surface of raw flesh. A cry split the expectant silence which had developed, as first clear plasma and then blood trickled from around the point of impact. Rarity however was disappointed, both with insignificant red stream and the response to it. Loosing herself in the moment, she hovered the rest of the needles in a swarm and brought them down all over the burn area, this time forcing each one a good inch into what had been the patient’s healing flesh. Now a full blown scream shot out, echoing down the corridor, to the thrilled satisfaction of the white unicorn. Remembering that this activity was meant to be serving an actual purpose, Rarity added: ‘still don’t know who your compatriot is?’

‘Buck you’ was Golden Harvest’s response, coming through tightly gritted teeth, resisting the pain.

Her torturer therefore returned her gaze to the cart of equipment, seeking inspiration. All manner of knives and blades were available to her but none sung out to be used. She looked back at her subject, whose face was now contorted by efforts to control the agony racking her body. As the earth mare squirmed in discomfort, one of her hooves fell into the path of sunlight beginning to come in through the window, causing a flash as it reflected of the metal soles of her shoes. This sparked a thought and she turned back to the trolley, foregoing the intricate saws and scalpels in favour of a weighty looking surgical hammer, its head being a blunt square, tapering to a point. The instrument was in total opposition to those she normally wielded, in its formless simplicity, but this gave it an alien allure.

Pain: it was all that Golden Harvest felt, boring into her and rippling throughout her body, causing it to convulse against her will. There was a dull scream, but it seemed distant. Had she herself screamed? Everything was drowned by the terrible burning, meaning she could not tell. ‘Stop moving’ she thought. ‘The more you move, the more this hurts.’ Her body was grudgingly forced to obey her mind, ceasing most of its squirming and knocking the pain back to a sharp throb. The questioning voice of her tormentor came through the parting seas and entered her ears. ‘Tell her nothing, you’re still in control.’ Her mouth acted as instructed, producing only blunt defiance. Some satisfaction burst amidst the pain and settled itself to bolster her heart, giving a small feeling of warmth.

Quiet: now that her ears were no longer submerged in the fire, a strange almost silence permeated the orange mare’s ears. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘What’s she planning?’ ‘Is it over?’ The sound of metal moving against metal provided no answer, as the face of her torturer blocked her vision. An immaculate white face, hair pampered to the point of shinning, glared down at her. In the purity of its visage there was an absolute hardness, as if it were made of snow covered stone, leaving the viewer no room for manoeuvre in its gaze. ‘She’s not going to stop until you tell her something’ came her inner voice again. Crack! Again the sound of metal on metal, but this time it rang out as two objects smashed against each other. A second impact, then a third and then a splintering noise, as a fresh pain shot into her right leg. Instinctively she turned her head and was faced by a hammer floating above the mangled mess of bent steel and shattered nail, which had been her hoof. The appendage had been slightly stunned by the shock, so it was as if she were viewing that of another pony, as the hammer flipped over and moved to the her hoof’s pad, claws attempting to catch behind its shoe. The tool gripped its target and its handle began to lever downwards. It felt as if her whole toe was being pulled off, wrenching her back into the reality of whose leg she was looking at, as the hammer forcefully dragged the shoe’s bent pins from their secured positions, scraping every nerve they passed in their movement. Small gouts of blood came forth with each wrench from the instrument, quickly spilling a deep red stain across the bed’s sheets. Crying out, she looked away; not wanting to see anymore, and fell back into the blue eyes of the unicorn still leant over her. The aqueous orbs were coldly studying each spasm of pain her face made, visibly gleaming at what they saw. ‘She’s enjoying this.’ In a final movement, accompanied by a ripping noise, the metal tacks were torn from her pad, bringing small clumps of flesh with them and she blacked out, overcome by agony.

Rarity puffed in an annoyed pout. Although she was still having fun, the mare’s continued insolence was becoming an annoyance. She continued to look over her increasingly destroyed subject, still considering her own intriguing feelings about the situation. ‘Is it the power?’ she thought, already well aware of the pleasure she felt at being in command and being obeyed. ‘Or something else?’ Normally her life was one of careful creation, but this was the exact opposite, making it most stimulating. ‘Wake her up’ she ordered aloud, returning her attention to the cart of tools.

Light: a stinging brightness attacked Golden Harvest’s senses as she was roughly brought back into consciousness. All at once the pains lost in the darkness returned: the punctures in her burnt leg and the ruined mess of her forehoof, with the minor addition of bruised swellings across her cheeks, all struck her. ‘There’s no way out of this, it’s not going to stop’ repeated her mind, accelerating the death of her own resistance. Fighting this rising feeling of defeat she turned her neck, all the time fighting the discomfort of mere movement, looking to the stallions which flanked the bed. Emerald eyes searched one blank expression after another, finding only merciless voids. Desperation rising, she jerked her head to the other side in order to view the other pair of guards. Again hollowness in the first soldier’s face, but in the second there was more. The emptiness of his countenance seemed only skin-deep, as if it were façade which did not quite reach his yellow eyes. ‘Please make it stop’ her thoughts appealed to him through her irises. The mask slipped for a moment, revealing concern and guilt lying beneath the apathetic exterior. ‘You have to help me’ her mind continued, projecting the plea through the wall of her own agony. His mouth opened to form words, but a female voice beat them to it. The unicorn was speaking again, probably asking more questions. The orange mare ignored her, continuing to beg through her stare: ‘please!’ A hoof hit her bruised face, slapping it to attention.

‘Answer my question!’ the marble face shouted down at her, all its calmness subsumed by growing anger, which caused blood vessels to bulge like serpents in the seas of its eyes.

Doubt: it had been gradually creeping up on the earth mare and now had pounced on the pain racked mess of her brain. ‘Maybe this will stop if you tell her something’ came a quiet thought, stalking into the light. The idea of giving in and possible survival struck her senseless, so she did not hear what the face was now saying, but it levitated a pair of tweezers before her eyes as it did so. As quickly as it had appeared, the small implement moved to her left side and out of view. ‘You have to tell her or…’ The words in her head were cut off by the sensation of metal points probing the sealed wound which snaked along her side. A deceptively calm voice said something about regretting ‘having to ruin such fine stitching’, just before she felt a pinch and then it was as if all the skin on her side was being stretched away from the underlying flesh. She did not scream this time, trying to maintain any kind of composure, but in spite of this, tears began to roll down her cheeks. The pulling feeling continued and it felt like her pelt was being strained to the point of tearing, as the tweezers again came into view, dragging a strand of blood-coated surgical thread with them. ‘Say something!’ shouted her mind. She looked to her one possible saviour, reuniting with his eyes for a mere second, but just as they met his silver face turned away, abandoning her to her fate. ‘No one’s coming, there’s no way out.’ Pain again engulfed her frame as the strand sliced open the holes it was stitched through, ripping a ragged edge through her skin. ‘Say something!’ The strand kept coming, dripping with crimson rivulets, as she felt a tear opening up, cutting down to reveal the upper musculature of her side to the air. ‘Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!’

‘Ditzy Doo!’ The howled name rushed out in abject surrender, echoing from the ward and into the hospital’s halls.

‘See wasn’t that easy’ Rarity said with mock sweetness, looking over the broken frame which now occupied the bed in place of the pony which had done before. ‘Now because I’m feeling generous and you’ve been so helpful, I’m willing to take the pain away.’ With that she telekinetically raised a syringe of anaesthetic from the trolley of equipment. The yellow earth mare nodded frantically and shut her eyes in anticipation of the needle, meaning she did not see Rarity nod to the soldiers either side of the bed and turn away. As she levitated her plumed helmet back on and exited into the hallway, the white unicorn heard a series of heavy hoof impacts, followed by a wet cracking noise, then finally a muffled gurgling. She paused in order to allow her loyal servants to return to her side, using pieces of bed sheet to clean the blood and clumps of ginger mane from their shoes as they did so. ‘It would seem they’re scraping the proverbial barrel for recruits,’ she smirked, ‘if they’re willing to accept a wall-eyed retard into their ranks.’ The remark was received with mechanical laughter from three of her cohort.

The fourth however, a yellow-eyed stallion with a silver coat, did not join them, instead his insecure voice came forth in a question: ‘pardon me ma’am, but was what we just did in there really necessary?’

Rarity froze in place, shocked in part by the question, but more by its source. Gleaming Cavalier for some time now had been her favourite adjutant amongst her force, an unwavering and unquestioning sentinel always at her side. For this reason alone did he not face her immediate wrath as she turned to face him, although the other soldiers expected it, taking a step away from what they thought was a doomed pony. ‘Of course it was “necessary”’ she fumed, ‘and you of all ponies should know better than to question me.’

‘I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just…’

‘Permit me to remind you of why we are here’ she interrupted authoritatively. ‘We are here to crush the rebellion which threatens the realm, before it has the chance to infect all of Equestria. Like good surgeons we must systematically expunge this contagion, amputating infected limbs if required, in order to save the patient placed in our care.’ The Field Marshall returned to striding forward, as she preached: ‘unlike our adversaries, who are driven only by their own festering ambition, we are the agents of Celestia’s benevolent will, charged with the burden of protecting the harmony of her empire. As the bearers of her light we are granted the power and heavy responsibility to exterminate all threats, by any means “necessary”.’ The quintet exited the stale antiseptic atmosphere of the hospital and Rarity again looked to Cavalier. ‘Do not waver, look to your oath and remember our duty is to the greater good.’ The reproached soldier looked to his hooves, avoiding his commander’s absolute gaze, as she concluded her speech, whilst the sun rose ever higher into the sky, showering the smouldering corpse of Ponyville with its light.

Author's Note

References:
1) Bubbles by anonymous