Convergence

Chapters

Stranger in a Strange Land
Chapter One: House of Mirrors
The World Through A Funhouse Mirror
A Sword Day, A Red Day
Hammer, Anvil, and Gnat
Into The Mirror
Reflection, part 1 - Plus Ca Change
Reflection, part 2 - DisQordant
Awakening
Conversation
Deliberation
Convocation
Constants and Variables
Ruinous Rebirth
Eyes Unseen
The Approaching Storm
Calm Before The Storm
The Gainax Ending
BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: The Clouds Burst
BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Eighteen and Nineteen
BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Convergence Retribution
BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Liberation
BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Battle Of Wight
BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: :P

Stranger in a Strange Land

Convergence

Based on an idea by Doctor Fluffy and Jed R, “The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum” written by redskin122004 and various others, and “The Avatar of Albion” written by Jed R.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
and
TheIdiot.

Editors
redskin122004,
RoyalPsycho,
The Void.

Prologue: Through the Looking Glass

"I'm the only one left who remembers the Infinite Earths. You see, I know the truth. I remember all that happened, and I'm not going to forget. World's live, worlds died. Nothing will ever be the same. But those were great days for me… I had a good friend in the goods old days, really. He was the Anti-Monitor. He was going to give me a world to rule. Now he's gone, too. But that's okay with me. You see, I like to remember the past because those were better times than now. I mean, I'd rather live in the past than today, wouldn't you? I mean, nothing's ever certain anymore. Nothing's ever predictable like it used to be. These days… y-you just never know who's going to die… and who's going to live."

Roger Hayden aka Psycho Pirate, "Crisis on Infinite Earths #12" page 42

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually - from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff."

The Tenth Doctor, Blink

…and the POWER's words gave life forth to new worlds. Some of those worlds were born of fire, and a some of water, some were born of peace and some of war, some of life and some of death. And in each, the Light and the Dark did war, for they had become as ubiquitous as the day and the night. In some worlds, war did spread like a canker upon the land: in some, the Light triumphed, blazing with fire and glory and burning the scourge of the Darkness away. In others, the Dark swallowed all and the Light was utterly extinguished. Like a great game across the worlds, this conflict did repeat, over and over, a thousand chess pieces moving and falling to be replaced by different pieces.

There are tales, rumours distant and obscure, that sometimes - only sometimes - pieces might get misplaced...

Extract from the Twelfth Book of Merlin, "The Eternal Chess Game"

***

There are many stories in the world - stories that fill the hearts of men with dread or with hope, with anger or with pride. Sometimes, such stories get repeated - because they must, because the lessons they have to teach us are important. Sometimes, though, these stories get changed - so that they may teach us new lessons.

For each story is a world to itself. Each story represents the hopes and dreams and fears of whole nations, whole cultures, whole species. Stories hold far more importance than you might ever assign them.

One such story is the tale of a world attacked by a Tyrant - a world besieged, millions dead, or else enslaved to the will of this creature, a being that wears the face and flesh of a once-benevolent ruler but is, in fact, something else entirely. It tells the tale of a man, a human dumped into the small town of Ponyville on an average day. These events would lead to a domino effect that would cast another world into a struggle he and his kind have lived with for many years. In this war there are many different sides, and at the end of this story, no one will come out the same.

Another story seems, at first glance, similar - the tale of a world all-but destroyed by a Tyrant, billions dead or enslaved, and one man, destined to lead the fight against evil. It is a tale of a human sent to Equestria in a desperate, final bid to end a conflict that had claimed all but one nation of his home - what he will do instead is return hope to his people.

As you can tell, both tales have their similarities; the two warrior men that have suffered horrific losses were sent to two different Equestrias that, by all means, are exactly the same, each thinking that they've been sent back in time before the war. Both of these men ask these unspoiled Equestrias for aid, to save worlds that are suffering at the hooves of two Tyrants, so similar… and yet, so different.

Marcus Renee is a human, a man who has lost kith and kin to the conflict that is burning his world. Despite this, he fights on, knowing that there is yet a chance to halt the spread of evil, so long as good men and good ponies fight against it. It is a lesson he has learned well from the sacrifices of friends and comrades.

David Elliot is a human, but he is also the incarnation of a nation's vengeance, the bearer of an ancient magical power that has already saved his island home and may yet hold the key to saving humanity… provided he can survive the ravages of that power and stand true against the monster that seeks to end his world.

These stories are separate - they were never destined to meet. These worlds have their own allotted times and these men their own allotted destinies, and it was never ordained that these destinies should become intertwined.

Time, though, is not so straightforward as that, and perhaps in the myriad different possibilities in creation, there is a world where these two times and places have met…

***

London, January 25th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

David Elliot, the Avatar of Albion as he was better known, grimaced slightly at the twinge of pain that ran through his side. He pulled a piece of shrapnel out of his ribs, the enhanced healing that Albion's power granted him were already closing the wound. He laughed at the irony for at so many respects, he was stronger, faster and harder than he had been. Yet the power that gave him these edges was also killing him, slowly but surely. He was sure True Grit would have had something to say but… no.

True Grit!" Elliot said, rushing to his friend's side. The Unicorn was bleeding badly, and he was burnt from Shining Armour's spell. "Hang on!"

"Did..." Grit coughed weakly, eyes opening to look at Elliot. "Did we win?"

"Yeah," Elliot said softly, as he tried to staunch Grit's wound. "Yeah, we won. Hold on mate."

"Yay for us," True Grit smiled. His eyes closed and he slumped where he lay, the life leaving him suddenly. Elliot's eyes widened, and he tried harder to staunch the wound.

"No... no, stay with me mate!" he said, starting to massage the heart in the hope of bringing his friend back. He was the Avatar of Albion, for God's sake. He should be able to save this one damn pony. just this one, just this once. "Breathe mate, come on!"

True Grit did not draw a breath.

No, that wasn't a good train of thought at all. He had lost enough good people, and he was going to lose more before the end. No sense dwelling on those he had failed to save. If he did that, he might never move again for dwelling.

There'd been a pony that had said something once to a small gray unicorn mare: "Everyone's hurtin, you, me, the Avatar himself. We ain't got time for that - fight now, hurt later."

Best to think of it that way, then.

"Elliot," the voice of Hell Blazer called out, bringing Elliot's attention back to the here and now. "You nearly done?"

Elliot moved his arm, testing the movement of the side. The pain was still there, sort of, but the twinges were definitely dying down.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm done. What's the situation?"

"Pinkie Pie and Shining Armour's deaths don't seem to have slowed them down," the Earth Pony said softly. "If anything, I think they're more pissed off than they were."

"Typical," Elliot sighed. He unsheathed his lucky dagger - the one that had killed Rainbow Dash, 'speed killer' emblazoned into its hilt - and walked to the exit of the small "command centre" (a fancy name for a hastily appropriated corner shop).

As he stepped outside, a soldier fell across the doorway, a spear lodged in his chest. Snarling, Elliot drew his hand-cannon and fired at the offending Pegasus, knocking it from the sky. More fire drove the attacking Pegasi back, but that wasn't good enough for Elliot. He charged after them, dagger spinning. Behind him, Hell Blazer and Lyra charged, Lyra's horn flashing with offensive spells.

They turned a corner, only to find themselves facing what must have been forty or fifty Earth Ponies.

"Bollocks," Hell Blazer swore. "Might be an idea to retreat?"

Elliot didn't answer, only taking time to reload his hand-cannon, a massive revolver looted from some rich hunter who hadn't been in a position to keep it on hand. Hell Blazer sighed.

"Should have guessed," he said tiredly. "You want the twenty on the left or the twenty on the right?"

Elliot charged, firing as he went. Lyra stayed put, firing her spells off. Hell Blazer started muttering a series of ancient attack spells, fire forming and shooting off at his words.

The first pony went down with a bullet lodged in his skull. Vaulting over the falling corpse, Elliot stabbed a second pony in the spinal column, before kicking out, sending another sprawling into his comrades. Firing his cannon again, Elliot took out three more ponies, before holstering the weapon and drawing his other dagger. He lashed out, taking down a handful at a time with sliced throats and stabs to the heart. He span around, stabbing another pony in the neck, before pushing the corpse off of his dagger and kicking it into two more ponies. Before the stunned ponies could stand, he stabbed them in their throats, pinning them to the ground. Leaving his daggers in their necks for the moment, he drew his hand-cannon and his shotgun, switching the latter to semi-automatic fire: he span around, firing indiscriminately, taking out pony after pony...

"David!" a small voice called out. Elliot span, to find himself facing off against a Unicorn, who fired a spell at him. Elliot blocked the spell with his arm, but the kinetic force drove him to the ground.

The Unicorn gave a feral grin, and moved to send another spell at Elliot -

But then the spell impacted Lyra, who was suddenly stood between them. She yelled in pain as the energy enveloped her, and then she fell to the ground, eyes closed as she fell unconscious from the pain. Angrily, Elliot fired the last round from his hand-cannon at the pony, blowing the top of his skull out, before grabbing Lyra and sprinting down the street. Around twenty of the Earth Pony squadron were still active, but they were being pinned down by a combination of Hell Blazer's continued fire spells and several soldiers firing their weapons in a suppressive pattern. Fortunately, these ponies were Royal Guard trained, not human soldier converts, and so their tactics were piss poor by comparison.

"Hell Blazer!" Elliot yelled. "Back to base, now!"

"Right!" the pony said, calling out instructions to the soldiers. With a final blast of hellfire, the yellow Earth Pony ran after his friend.

In the base, Elliot was examining Lyra's wounds. They didn't seem to be serious on the outside, but as far as Elliot was concerned, that was a bad sign - it just meant that her injuries were bad on the inside. Magic tended to be like that.

"Where's the Doctor?!" he bellowed at Hell Blazer as the pony entered the room.

"In a different part of the city," his friend replied, eyes fixed on the injured Lyra. "Oh ponyfeathers... this a magic injury?!"

"Yeah," Elliot said, not commenting on the pony oath Hell Blazer used.

"Horse shit!" Hell Blazer swore, hitting the wall with his hoof. "Horse shit and motherbucking bastarding fucking wankers!"

"Can you help her?!" Elliot asked, ignoring the outburst.

"No idea," Hell Blazer said honestly, looking frustrated and upset. "Maybe if I..."

There was an explosion outside, and the sound of hurried yelling and panicked orders. From the sounds of it, things were getting desperate.

"They're getting closer," Elliot said quietly. "Shit."

"That's a word," Hell Blazer said angrily. "These bastards are tougher than I thought."

Elliot knew that if they moved, the sheer number of ponies out there might overwhelm them all - even the Avatar of Albion couldn't kill an entire army. Then again, if they waited here without trying to escape, they'd be trapped and killed anyway. There seemed to be no way out...

Except...

"Hell Blazer," Elliot said quietly. "You know that plan you had?"

Hell Blazer looked at Elliot, eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"We've tried everything, up to begging and praying and hoping the problem goes away," his friend said. "You ready?"

Hell Blazer didn't reply, instead grabbing a vial of salt from his coat pocket. He immediately ushered Elliot into the centre of the room.

"Here," he said. He drew a small circle around his friend. "Remember - once you get there, get to Canterlot, kill Solamina any way you can."

"Gotcha," Elliot said. "I'll do my best."

"I've got faith in ya mate," Hell Blazer mumbled as he began drawing more symbols in salt.

"You don't, but it's nice to say," Elliot smiled. He looked up at the ceiling. "I'm ready."

Hell Blazer mumbled a few words, and then there was a flash of light.

***

As David Elliot was being sent across time and space, his form going through the dimensions like a train to various stations, the portal that was made was guiding his form through the bleed for an intended target that would grant him aid.

However, its end location was hijacked; the residue of magic and manipulations of a certain sort (the same sort that sent a certain Marine to Equestria, switching his place with that of a Pegasus daredevil, though she would appear somewhat earlier) caused the portal to lock onto the trail that was left from this separate event.

"...Oh?" Something asked, as Elliot shot through the vast expanse of color. There was a flash of light turquoise which flew past him, and suddenly, he felt a jarring change of direction.

He couldn't say how, as he wasn't entirely sure where his body was, but he felt something wrong.

There was an inarticulate feeling of something being quizzical. For a moment, he smelled seawater, and he was tumbling, tumbling….

"This throws off so much in the transference balance experiment," a voice said.

"Well, isn't this what experiments are for?" another asked. "Discovery? He's so wonderfully unexpected! I wouldn't expect it, and I think he'll be a wonderful surprise!"

"I don't know, I think there's a few that might know him," another voice said.

"Not too many," said another. "I do hope he'll be fine…"

"Ah hope so," said yet another. "Ah don't envy his responsibility. Five, maybe six worlds in the balance…"

"He'll hold up," said another. "He'll thrive. I believe it. And I believe the humans in this world will accept what he can bring."

"I still worry about him…" said the third one.

"He'll be fine, Ky," said the sixth. "Unless-"

"Don't tempt fate, Gen," said the third. "We shouldn't worry with this one of him."

This was not the intention either of the being/beings who had made the portal, or the being who had or finally intended to hijack it to send David Elliot somewhere else, and had run afoul of a few other entities with yet their own plan. Still, the latter would have said, this way there were… possibilities.

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - ‘Spectrum’ Earth
10 hours, 57 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

The man blinked slowly, his eyes opening slowly. He squinted as a headache shot through his skull, only exacerbated by the light coming from the sky.

That's how it was supposed to go.

Perhaps, given time, he would have checked his arms and armament, the SPAS-style VK-12 shotgun and sniper rifle strapped to his back, modified hand-cannon in holster, twin daggers in their back-sheaths, bandolier across his chest and ammunition kept squarely in there. Then he might have checked his clothes: a coat that would have been thrown out before the war, lined with grim trophies sewn into the inside, as well as a t-shirt, neckerchief and trousers, topped off with hard-worn riding boots. He would have seen that he was all here... had he been inclined to check.

Unfortunately, that train of thought derailed, or simply stopped to refuel, as he was struck by a question. Where the hell was here?!

He could hear automatic gunfire off in the distance, combined with the strange sounds of spells. Tall, unfamiliar buildings lined the streets, practically stripped to the concrete and stone beneath. The lettering on the buildings and advertisements appeared to be English - mostly English, anyway. There were ads in languages from countries the Barrier had destroyed a long time ago, but they were in the minority. And there were cars, too - of course, he'd never known much about cars, but most of them looked American.

Still, it was hard to make a -

A shell flew through the air, impacting the top few floors of a building, sending rubble careening down to the street below.

Judgment. It was hard to make a judgment. Where the hell was this? And then, almost unbidden - When the hell was this?

Where had that thought come from?

"I'm going to kill Hell Blazer," David Elliot sighed, sitting against a car and unlimbering his shotgun, setting it to semiauto. The recoil was a pain in semi auto, but he preferred it for the volumes of buckshot he could unleash. 'If I get back, that is…'

He ignored the unfortunate thought that occurred to him. Was it that hard to ask to get transported to Equestria, through time and space? Probably, but it was a last-ditch effort, he expected this to work! Not get sent to a human city in God-knew-where...

He headed off down one street, because what else was there to do? Besides, if he kept going, he'd surely meet someone that he could talk to. He was hearing artillery, after all, along with missiles. That meant people. Military people. People he could ask for directions.

The tired man looked around the city: it was thoroughly decayed and quite a mess. He was just getting sort of relaxed when suddenly, he saw them.

There was no mistaking them. The almost dreamlike glazed-over eyes, the posture… Convies. Well, that just raised more questions than it answered. Convies? In this city?! These must have been some bad-off Convies, though, since they looked nigh-on-zombified, eyes fixed on nothing he could see. What was going on here?

‘There'll be a time and a place for those questions, and now is not it,’ Elliot thought sternly, focusing. He steeled himself.

He would have loved to have found human troops. At least, whoever they were, they would probably trust him. But, since these were the only sentient beings (though given their apparent... listlessness, that was somewhat doubtful) in the vicinity that he could see, it seemed prudent to listen. Convie wankers usually had something to say.

He could hear snippets of conversation between them. One word, though, caught his attention above them all: Boston.

No, no. That couldn't be. Boston had been gone for years and years, he'd seen it on TV. Everyone had seen that before the war. He'd even known a few people from Boston. There'd been this one cop from there, a man with a peg-leg and an old friend of that crazy Afrikaner doctor, Kraber… guy had been called Django Miller. Boston was dead, and those few people were all that remained.

One Convie turned his snout in Elliot's direction. Shit!

"There's a human following us!" one Pegasus hissed.

"Hmm?" a mare Unicorn drooped her head around lazily: she seemed a bit off. "Should we get him?" she asked her comrades, her tone suggesting she might have been a bit… 'special'.

"Yeah! Let's get the monkey and make him perfect!" an Earth Pony Stallion said, his tone curiously listless. It was like he was focused on some other thing, his eyes fixed on something and yet… they all had a weird expression on their faces; what was it? A smile or something? Did Convies usually have more expressions that than that? They were always a bit vacuous - docile was the word he kept hearing - but these guys were practically… empty.

Welp, he wasn't getting anything useful out of them by just standing here. Besides, these wouldn't be much of a challenge. Still, he had to leave one alive to answer his questions…

He sighted in the shotgun and fired, the Unicorn Convie's face exploding like an overripe melon.

"Get him!" the Pegasus shouted, unmindful of her potion-brother's death. Another Unicorn's horn glowed with the telltale spark of TK, as a vial of potion shot through the air right at Elliot. He just smirked, as he fired the shotgun again, the buckshot punching through that Convie as well. The potion splashed him, and he sighed, before frowning slightly.

"Ha!" one of the Convies yelled, before frowning itself. The potion seemed to bubble on Elliot's skin for a moment, and then it began steaming, before disappearing, a slight hissing sound almost like a tiny, whispered scream escaping from it.

"Cute trick," Elliot said, looking up at them with a smirk and rolling his shoulders. "Got any more?"

"B-but that ain't right!" the one remaining Unicorn whispered, practically gibbering, backing away in fear, the others following her, seeing that the potion did nothing.

"Well, I'm not just any human," Elliot said, looking down at them. "So. Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough."

‘I need one of them alive,’ he thought to himself. ‘These ones might be a bit thicker than the usual, but they'll still be able to explain where I am.’

Taking charge, the Earth Pony attacked, charging straight at him. Rush charges weren't unheard of, especially among recent Converted or those who were in the Militia, but this seemed a bit off; wouldn't they at least say something? And that smiling…

A buckshot later, the stallion's body fell before him with most of its head blown off like the others. Elliot didn't even need to get his daggers out. Somehow, he felt almost sad about that. Another one, a Pegasus, leapt up and tried to dive bomb him, which would have worked better had he been any good at flying. Grinning, Elliot quickly lowered the shotgun, whipped out one of his daggers and stabbed it in the eye as it reached him, before retracting the weapon, grabbing the corpse and throwing it at two more of the Convies who were trying to rush him.

"That it?" he asked, spinning the dagger in his hand. He put the shotgun away, and upholstered his hand-cannon.

One of the two Convies, another Unicorn, managed to get up, despite the fact that he was limping from a sprained leg. His comrade was less lucky, apparently having taken the full force of the thrown corpse to the head and neck area, resulting in a neck twisted in an altogether unpleasant looking direction.

The Unicorn charged at Elliot, who span his dagger in anticipation. He let the Convie reach him, deciding to have some fun with this one. The Unicorn's poorly-aimed hoof attacks were useless, and he didn't seem able to do much more than cause small sparks to flare from his horn. Elliot sidestepped the blows, before slashing the Convie across the back. The former human fell to the floor, and Elliot stood over his prone body, allowing himself a small smile before he stabbed the pony in the back of the throat. There was a soft gurgling, and then the poor thing expired.

"That was for Lyra Heartstrings," Elliot said quietly, his voice a hiss of anger. "You little wank-stain."

"You... you... bully!" one of the two survivors, a Pegasus mare, cried out.

"So rude," Elliot sighed with a slight smirk. "But then, guess that's my fault." He narrowed his eyes at the survivors. "Tell me. Where am I?

"G… get back!" the Pegasus shouted, her and the 'special' Unicorn mare backing up in fear from the human that had killed everypony else. He could see confusion in her eyes, as though she was trying to work out what he was, what kind of human could do what he had done. "Y-you're a… a monster! A horrible meany pants!"

Elliot was still unsure as to whether the fact that they didn't swear was disturbing or not. General opinion in the BDF was that it seemed to vacillate. Sometimes it was funny enough to ease the pain, other times it was disturbing, or other times it was just so disturbing it went right around to be funny again. He'd never seen the humour, though. It was just another sign of what five billion of his kind had lost forever. They couldn't even talk how they wanted, poor bastards...

"I'll ask again," he said, his eyes glaring daggers at the two. "Where am I?"

Before either of them could respond (and to his surprise), the Unicorn mare's horn lit up and there was a loud snap. The Pegasus fell to the ground with her neck having been broken by the Convie's magic. Elliot blinked in surprise, and aimed his hand-cannon at her with a scowl.

"You're in Boston, a city in the United States of America; east coast," the mare answered, her tone now… surprising different than before, despite her eyes blankly out of focus. "Before you ask, this body has been dead for the past 20 minutes; nopony thought to check, but Newfoals are so lifeless I guess I just blended in."

"I don't believe you," Elliot said sharply. "Where are we?"

"I just told you, we're in Boston," the mare said, speaking slowly now, as though to an idiot. "The American City."

"Try again, you Convie pile of horse-shite," he said, his trigger finger itching. "Or I'll introduce you to my friend 'hot lead'."

"I swear, we're in Boston!" the mare protested.

"Boston burned when the Sanctified Republic of Gilead threw its children to the fire," Elliot said, his mouth hardening into a thin line. Blurry images of burning bodies, praying fanatics with tattoos inscribed all over their bodies, holding bloodied knives and screaming to the heavens, filled his head. His scowl intensified. "I saw the fucking coverage. This place is gone. Now: last chance before I shoot you in the fucking head!"

"Oh like that would do you any good!" she shouted, "I already told you that this body has been dead for the past twenty minutes; its soul - what was left of it - has already left, and with luck it's reforming. I swear, next you'll be asking for Celestia," she added in an undertone.

That was different. Elliot blinked again.

"…Celestia?" he repeated.

"Um… yes?" the Convie - or Newfoal, as it referred to itself - replied, confused.

"Not Solamina?"

"Um… who?"

"Astra Solamina Maxima, the Sun Resplendent, Empress of the Equestrian Empire?" Elliot was beyond confused. How was this possible? There wasn't such a thing as a Convie that didn't know that name: by all accounts from Exodite ponies and the Doctor's sorties, the Solaminan Church was built on Converted faith. For one to not know her name... was impossible.

"…I have no idea what you're talking about," she stated bluntly.

"Fucking fucking fuck me…" Elliot muttered, eye twitching. He knew what was coming next, what she was about to say, but he had to ask. "What human year is this?"

"It's 2023."

"… fuck. FUCKING HELL, JOHN!" he yelled, and ignoring the hand-cannon, he fired the shotgun into her neck, severing her head and dropping it to the ground. There wasn't even a reaction as the mare died silently, blood spurting from her neck.

2023?! Boston?! Shit, he was in the past! Oh, God, what… what was he supposed to do?! It wasn't like he could stop the Barrier by himself, it wasn't like he could save every human...

'Hang on,' he thought to himself, 'something's not right here.'

The war hadn't started yet in 2023. There shouldn't have been Converted here, or if there were they shouldn't have been attacking anyone. There's never been many official reports after America had become Gilead - media coverage had been lax, to employ severe understatement - but no pony from the Exodus had ever mentioned the war happening in other lands. PER and HLF remnants shooting each other, sure. Gilead burning, obviously. Mini-wars of dwindling land and resources, everywhere.

Convies? No. Not yet. Not possible.

"I see you have a dilemma," a voice cut through the air. Elliot turned sharply, gun out, to see a well dressed man in a sky blue suit approach; his hair was a silvery color (yet it was graying), he was supporting himself with a cane. He had an ornate tie-pin that looked like a star shaped spell matrix with a book in its center and his eyes... they held a look of profound guilt, despite the curiosity in his voice.

"You ruined my puppet, and you are immune to the potion," he said, tilting his head and examining the man up and down. "Tell me, who are you and where are you from?"

"I'm from Britain," Elliot said, warily. No reason to make things worse.

"Britain? How curious," the man states, Elliot could feel that there something off about him; something dark. "You… you are an unexpected variable; you have something. Something different, and - what's this? There's magic about you! Glad to see that some humans have stopped believing that vicious, damnable lie… Shame that one of the few that didn't believe is, how does he say? 'Bosbefok'? Strange fellow he is..." he trailed off

That sounded familiar. That was it - Kraber! A friend of Bright Wonder and Heliotrope, part of the Dead Men, lived in Leith… that was one of his favorite words.

"But it's still progress," the man finished his ramblings.

"...What are you talking about?!" Elliot yelled.

"Why that the runes would protect them!" he answered, a strange glee apparently coming out from nowhere. "Runes always have a tell, and you…" He waved his hand over Elliot's body. Something above Elliot glowed a bright gold, and yet the force around the strange man's hand was a midnight blue. "Whatever you are, there are no runes apparent - this is some kind of mystical bonding, a convergence that…" He trailed off again, the words dying in his throat for some reason.

"I have no damn idea what you're talking about!" Elliot yelled. "Who are you?!"

"My name… well, it is rude of me not introducing myself to you first." He gave a light chuckle over it, apparently it was some kind of inside joke for him. "You may call me Suxen Lleps." He gave a mock bow before Elliot, like he was a high class gentleman. The action was incredibly incongruous in this urban battlefield, but David didn't comment.

"Look. I mean no disrespect, but I'm off to find a human military force," he said, raising an eyebrow slightly. "They'll… I'll contact them and they'll... explain. Wherever this is, it looks like they need help. And I'll happily offer it to you."

"Hmm, what was your name? I told you mine," Suxen huffed. "The least you could do is tell me yours."

"Elliot. David Elliot," Elliot said.

"Well, Mr. Elliot; come walk with me - it's only fair that I show you around," he stated, a hand offered to the British man. "I'm sure the UN Forces would enjoy someone of your caliber and… skills to their group."

Elliot frowned. Faster than light, he had a hand-cannon out and and pointed directly at this 'Suxen's' face.

"I'm not a man with whom to piss around," he said bluntly. "You betray me, I end you."

Suxen looked at Elliot. There was… an unnerving feeling about this; Elliot could feel that there was something definitely off about him. The man gave a hollow chuckle despite the gun being pointed at his face.

"I'm sorry Mr. Elliot, I seem to have mislead you into thinking that I'm afraid of you and you wonderfully unique magic." He reached out and his left hand glowed, and a blade appeared with it - it was forged of crystal, elegant and balanced. "Now, we could point weapons at each other, use our magic, do this and that… but that wouldn't get you anywhere or solve any of our inquires… now would it?" A moment later, Suxen's sword disappeared. "If you wish, you may strike me down as I stand; having not even done any physical harm to you."

He stood still and outstretched both of his arms in a gesture of openness. Elliot frowned. His hand tensed around his gun, before he lowered it. A moment later, it was back in the holster.

"I don't kill the unarmed unnecessarily," he said. "And frankly I'm not in the mood for fighting a randomer. All the same - if you lead me somewhere I don't like, I'll have to reassess my opinion."

"A fair bargain. But first, I'd like to shake hands." Suxen once again reaches out to the man.

Elliot scowled, but reached out and grasped his hand nonetheless.

Suddenly… suddenly Elliot felt sick. He felt really sick. The constant pain caused by the guilt of not preventing that damn bag's rise to power! Running away and hiding instead of standing up and fighting, the constant nightmares, the glimpances of worlds that run on a duality of either being like the world he knew or the world he was in now, the constant whispers and memories of the dead haunting him, discovering that unwelcome foreigner in Luna's realm… it all simply -

"I've seen enough," Suxen's voice cut through Elliot's train of thought… and then, then it all stopped. Despite how long the moment was, it passed - all the things he felt were gone and thus there was nothing… except a confusion.

"What… what the fucking hell was that?!" Elliot yelled, stepping back, a hand going to his head as he shook the confusion away. "What did you do?!"

"I shook your hand Mr. Elliot," Suxen answered, examining his left hand. "It seems your magic and my magic met, and brought our beings to each other - you felt what I feel… and I saw what you've seen." He looked at Elliot with an expression of sympathy. "I am so sorry for your world; it's as broken as this one and as Equestria is, if not worse. I'm sorry for what happened to your friends, to Sam, to John, to True Grit, to Ditzy and to Lyra… and many others I take it… so many others," he muttered. "You can save some of them, here. It won't be your versions of them, but it'll be something."

"I…" Elliot said, swallowing. "You…"

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"Thanks," he muttered. "But don't think I trust you. Too many people have pretty words to your face and knives at your back." He paused. "And if you've really read my mind, you'd know that."

"And if you read mine, you've felt all that I've felt. I guess if it's any consolation Mr. Elliot, we both share one particular thing." Suxen stated, starting to walk down the street towards the sounds of battle.

"And what's that?" Elliot asked, not moving. He frowned - there were thoughts in his mind, memories not his own - a bag? But they were shrouded, hidden, confused - or maybe his mind hadn't processed it yet.

"We're both… how would you say it?" He paused, trying to recall the phrase. "'Dead men walking?' Is that it?"

"You should see some people I know," Elliot said, a slight smirk on his face. He started following the man: there was nothing else to lose. "Although I guess you could definitely say it sucks to be us."

"Me, you, Lyra Heartstrings, John Constantine, Marcus Renee, Errant Flight. Stephan Bauer, that… Kraber fellow, Yon-Soo Park, True Grit… the list could go on," Suxen said offhandedly. "You'll probably meet some of those individuals soon enough."

"Fun times," Elliot said with a smirk. He recognised a few of the names of course, even ones of people and ponies he didn't know, but he couldn't say from where. "Could've been worse. Could have ended up five metres from Solamina's face. Might've been fun, but probably not so much in the long run."

"If she's anything like Celestia has become, no it wouldn't," Suxen remarked. "If anything, you're lucky you're here. It'd take a miracle to last against her."

"How many would it take to win?" Elliot asked.

"An insane amount," Suxen said. "Thankfully, things are falling into motion. Plots within plots, wheels within wheels, the machinery of fate is turning."

"What does that mean?" Elliot asked, irritated.

"That things are happening," Suxen said simply. "It's simply one thing after another, so many stories and efforts coming together. Hard for some people to keep track of, and I don't blame them," he said, looking off into no direction Elliot could place.

"Might've been better if we'd found some way of..." Elliot muttered, but he didn't finish the thought. "Ah well. Might've beens are redundant anyway."

"Well, you'd be surprised all things considered Mr. Elliot," Suxen said. "In fact I believe in this world there is a familiar face to someone you know, I think… what his name? Doctor Whoovers was it?"

"Hooves," Elliot corrected idly, and then he frowned. "He's in Equestria, it's 2023 you said. The Exodus hasn't started yet."

"Oh… right." Suxen frowned, and his right ear then started to bleed. "You think I don't know that?" he whispered harshly to his right, head whipping around yet there wasn't anyone there that Elliot could see. "No I'm not going to tell him! It wouldn't do any good being blunt right now. He's already shocked enough as is."

"Tell me what?" Elliot asked, narrowing his eyes.

"See what you've done? He's suspicious!" Suxen whispered harshly back to the nothing before turning back to Elliot. "Sorry about that, unfortunately due to a spell matrix I've created I can… communicate with the dead."

Elliot blinked. "O... kay, then. I... suppose... that's..."

He stop speaking. There wasn't really anything he could say to that. Between pastel ponies and all the other things he had encountered, his sense of things being impossible had lessened, but there were still (rare) days that could get him. He almost missed it.

"It's a pain to endure, not fun or pleasant - it's why there are rules against such things I believe… or, at least I understand why there are rules now." Suxen continued, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a q-tip to lean out his right ear.

"I'll take your word for it," Elliot said, nodding slowly. He frowned as an idea occurred to him. "Don't suppose... do you happen to..." He stopped. "Nah, silly question."

"Oh come now, there are no such things as silly questions - only silly answers from silly ponies," Suxen responded almost automatically… like it was an old reflex of some kind.

"Or silly people," Elliot added with a shrug. "Alright. D'you know where Merlin is?"

"Uhh... who?"

"That'll be a no then," Elliot sighed. "Bollocks."

"What is he? Some kind of Arch Mage?" Suxen asked.

"No," Elliot snapped, blinking. "No. Not an Arch Mage." He frowned slightly. "Sorry. Bad term."

"My apologies," Suxen said. "Then who is he?"

"That'd take a lot of explaining, and we seem to be in an impossible war zone," Elliot said with a sign. He looked around the cityscape, frowning at it. "None of this makes sense. I mean, apart from you," he said with a nod at Suxen, "the Convies shouldn't be here. The PER and HLF fought, sure, but Solamina... I suppose she was still Celestia at that point... didn't start her campaigns until the Barrier stopped."

Suxen's body language grew uncomfortable, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You know, it's a sad thing Mr. Elliot. A really sad thing that this happens, that these horrible things come to pass."

Elliot didn't reply for a long moment. He looked around, wondering what was going on... and what might happen when he met any humans still here.

"You said UN?" he asked. "So not Gilead?"

"No… no I'm afraid not Mr. Elliot." He sighed heavily. "You see, there is a truth present; a sad bitter truth that is here, and one that I… I can't tell you right now. All I can offer you is a means for assistance."

"Anything but Gilead," Elliot laughed, though it was a laugh without humour. "Surprised anyone sane is still holding up - can't quite remember when America burned but it has to be soon."

"No, I'm afraid not… it never is." Suxen muttered, before stopping - a hand going to his forehead while his teeth were clenched.

Elliot saw this, also noticing that the strange man's nose was now bleeding. He stopped, asking "Are you alright?"

"N-no, no I'm not," he groaned, dabbing his nose with a handkerchief. "It seems our time is over; I have lead you to where you should be, a-and now I must go - though I have a present to give."

Suxen reached into his pocket and took out a ring, the metal silver and its gem a blue cobalt. He tossed the ring to Elliot, the British man looking at it with a confused frown.

"Why?" Elliot asked.

"Because… because its a contact, should you ever need assistance it will grant you it." He wheezed, a silver necklace with a cobalt gem appearing around his neck - the gem having been cut into the same design as his tie pin. "You will soon meet other military forces… it's best that they don't meet me and learn of two strange beings at this time."

"What? What do you mean?" Elliot asked, frowning. "You've barely explained anything, you've just been cryptic - what's going on here?"

"Much… many things, Sir Elliot." Suxen replied, a pained expression on his face. "There are many things in motion thrown off by your presence. I -" He was stopped by a coughing hit, his necklace lighting up. "It is best that they have you rather than me… for this body is flawed. Also, remember… the bag that you have been shown unintentionally, it is nothing like you have seen befor-"

He dropped to his knees in a coughing fit before disappearing in a flash of blue like a Unicorn's teleportation, leaving Elliot standing there, strange ring in hand.

"Well," Elliot said. "That's just typical."

What had that been? Some sort of magic burnout, like his? No... maybe something different. In any case - there wasn't much to be done about it. He pocketed the ring and sighed, before whipping out his hand-cannon and 'speed killer'. It was probably best to be prepared for another Convie attack...

He frowned and scratched the place where the potion-bottle the Convie had thrown had splashed him. In all the talk he had forgotten it, but the sudden silence and thinking about the possibility of attack had brought it back to the forefront of his attention. There was a slight itch on the skin, like an after image of pain. He looked at his hand, and was surprised to find a thin film of something had come off, like getting PVA glue on your hand.

"Huh," he said idly, frowning at the stuff. "Upgrades?"

He shook his head. It wasn't important right now. He sighed.

Time to go meet these 'soldiers'.

***

Somewhere...

"Um, are you sure about this?"

"What? Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well look, I'm all for different ideas - really, I mean you've seen some of mine..."

"Yes, and? This is just another one."

"You don't think it might be a little... too far?"

"'Too far'? We are talking about worlds with pastel ponies and humans destroying one another. I hardly think traditional means of deciding 'too far' really count anymore."

"But what can this world offer him? If he'd gone where he was meant to go..."

"If he'd gone where he was meant to go we'd have the same story, now wouldn't we? Consider this a diversion."

"But what can they offer him?"

"I don't know. I suppose we'll discover that in due course. Besides, it's as much about what he can offer them."

"What's your take on this?"

"Who, me? I'm rather new here. I just think it looks like fun. Hope you don't mind that Kraber is around. No matter what, he just finds his way into everything."

“He does a bit - still, at least he’s interesting.”

"This looks like lots of fun. I really like it. And what with the branching timelines, we don't need to worry about breaking anything all that much."

"Unless we do... but you can fix it."

"It'll make for quite a tale, either way."

"Well, yes, there is that..."

"C'mon, that's half the reason we do this. And admit it - the possibilities are intriguing."

"... yes. That's true."

"Right, then. What is there to worry about? Just sit back and watch..."

***

Author's Note

The PROLOGUE to the crossover with Avatar of Albion that you've all been waiting f.... Wait, really? You didn't know? Well, here's hoping it's a pleasant surprise.

Chapter One: House of Mirrors

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy
redskin122004
TheIdiot
Jed R

Editors
RoyalPsycho
The Void

"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it."
Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

"Two hundred million zombies. Who can even visualize that type of number, let alone combat it?... For the first time in history, we faced an enemy that was actively waging total war. They had no limits of endurance. They would never negotiate, never surrender. They would fight until the very end because, unlike us, every single one of them, every second of every day, was devoted to consuming all life on Earth. That's the enemy that waited for us beyond the Rockies. That's the kind of war we had to fight."
General Travis D'Ambrosia, World War Z

"Humanity has been caged. We will break the bars.”
Item description for the Exodus Vest, Destiny

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth
11 hours and 24 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

Elliot might have been lost, but at least now he had an objective: find this Knight person, whoever he might have been. He seemed like someone Elliot might get along with (human with a claymore? Not bad). Unfortunately, it was a fool's errand to guess just where the Knight could be: Boston was a big city (seriously, how did Americans make cities this big? It was like walking through a city built by giants!) and he had no idea just where to look.

He decided, after some consideration, to follow the gunfire. That was a safe bet - probably. If anything was safe.

He couldn't help but think about this place, this city that should never have been. And, for all he'd thought to himself about not getting distracted, it was nigh-impossible not to be. Another world… another time. If this was the past, how had it changed so much? And if it wasn't... he had once talked with the Doctor about parallel worlds. The old pony wasn't as effusive as he used to be, but he was still intelligent, and the subject had come up once or twice.

If this was a parallel world, what had changed? Where was the point of divergence? Had ponies come to help here? He shuddered to think of a world where they hadn't. Something, he couldn't tell what, made him certain that if there hadn't been ponies like Lyra, or Errant Flight or True Grit, he wouldn't have become anything good...

'Where had that thought come from?' he wondered.

Or maybe it was something to do with Equestria? The potion was different, it's effects more noticeable even on him... what had caused that?

He had a horrible feeling he didn't want to know. And an even more horrible feeling that very soon, he might just find out.

"Alright then," he said aloud, tightening his grip on the pistol slightly. "When I meet it, I'll kill it."

Saying it made him feel… slightly better.

As he followed the sound, and the stink of smokeless powder, it was hard not to ask questions, but he forced himself to remain focused. He couldn't get distracted by anything...

... except...

... this...

... didn't make any sense.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Just... fuck.

Fuck not being distracted. This entire place made no sense. None at all. Boston had never been attacked by Convies. The Convies had never been so utterly mindless. Okay, maybe that wasn't quite the word. You could see that sort of thing as funny, but these Convies had no regard for their safety, as long as he was dead or potioned. Then there was the potion, the thin film that it had left on his face. He absent-mindedly scratched at his face again, frowning. The itch had long since subsided, but that still left the fact that it had itched at all. He had never been so much as tickled by the potion. Upgraded or not, that was a genuine concern...

He frowned. He could see a few tattered flags flying from windows and on poles, and they had caught his attention. The old Star-Spangled Banner was flying, and that also made no sense.

"Gilead..." he muttered. The name brought up old memories...

***

London, March 20th, 2023 - 'Avatar' Earth

Every soldier in the barracks was watching the TV with a mixture of expressions - some were shocked, some angry, and some were disgusted.

"Christ," one of the soldiers muttered, and David Elliot couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

The TV was showing grainy, blurred footage of people in robes, holding daggers and waving their arms around, for all the world as if they were ancient shamans. Men, women and children supplicated themselves before any religious symbols they could find as they huddled in terror and fear. Blood ran in the streets. Flagellants marching in the streets, stripped to the waist and whipping themselves with spiked whips or barbed chains, and though the images barely had any sound, you could still make out expressions filled with fear and righteous anger. Crowds of people towed massive crosses made of wood, metal, plastic - whatever was available - through the streets. Many of them had people nailed to them, moaning and screaming in pain. At the head of the sick procession was a man. He too was stripped down to the waist, his body covered in brand marks and scars that had been cut in the shape of Christian symbols. His head was shaved and the manic look in his eyes was obvious when the camera zoomed in on his face.

He was shouting something at the crowd. What he was saying was illegible as the crowd drowned him out but occasionally snippets of what he was saying, such as "God's chosen kingdom" and "His wrath demands blood" were heard over the cacophony of screams and cries.

The worst part, though, was the sacrificing.

Children in red hooded robes were sent along a path made of flowers, weeping women and men lining the road as they went, and crosses - many still with bodies attached - and the Barrier, that fucking pink monstrosity that was consuming the world, rolling along regardless. The children marched without fear - no one knew if they had been told what they were about to do, or if they had been told lies to make them go, but on they went, single file, one by one marching into the pink wall... and never coming out again.

"These reports are not confirmed by any remaining United States authorities," the voice of the newscaster, a tired looking blonde woman, said, her voice sounding shaky as she spoke, "but the... the so-called 'Sanctified Republic of Gilead' is gaining ever more support as US citizens either flee the Barrier's influence or else go through Conversion. Their unofficial spokesman, one Patrick Goleman, has released this video."

The grainy image of a hooded man appeared, standing in front of an ornate, bloodied cross superimposed over the image of the planet Earth - or it looked like the planet Earth, until you realised that the only landmass represented was America itself.

"People of the world, have no doubt in your minds: there is but one path to salvation, and it is through the sacrifice of Gilead. Gilead is the truth," he said at once, his voice tinged with fanaticism and fervour. "Gilead is the way, the true kingdom of Heaven, passed onto us by the blessed Founding Fathers - and we shall be the ones to fulfill our forefathers' dreams. We will drown the Barrier in blood and sacrifice, and when the faithful stand blessed before the gates of Heaven The Lord shall smite those who dared threaten His kingdom..."

The newsreader returned, looking sick. "The government has issued a statement decrying the actions of Goleman and the Sanctified Republic, but due to all flights being cancelled there is no further action expected at this time. The government urges you to remember, ladies and gentlemen, that conversion is not at this time warranted as a safe medical procedure, and that they are doing all they can to..."

"Turn that shit off," somebody said, and the TV died as someone hit the off switch.

"Fuck me," one of the other soldiers added, sounding vaguely ill. "What's happened to the Yanks?"

"They've gone bloody insane, that's what," Sam Lake muttered, running his hand through his cropped blonde hair. "World ends and all they can do is scream about it."

"They're afraid," David said quietly. "Everyone is. Even the extreme HLF are - you can tell."

"Fear's a monster," another soldier said. "Turns you into a freakin' psycho. Ain't nothin' a bloke won't do if he's scared for his life."

"Still," Sam said, "I don't get how they think that... that..."

David didn't need his friend to finish the sentence. What was happening in America - in Gilead, he corrected bitterly - was horrible. Yet another reason he and Sam had joined the army in the first place - right now, anything keeping order was better than that brand of anarchy.

"Come on," he said to his friend. "We've got stuff to do."

"I hear that," Sam said quietly. "Here, Dave, do me a favour."

"What?" David asked.

"If I ever get that loopy, fucking do me in and save some bugger else the trouble," his friend said. David grinned.

"Nah," he said. "Reckon you and I are seeing this bugger out to the finish, one way or another."

***

Gilead had been all that was left in America when the great nation burned beneath the Barrier. Any Americans you asked tended to get... tight-lipped about the subject. But the old USA flag flying meant that somewhere, someone in this place still recognised the authority of the USA as a government.

"Huh," he muttered to himself. "Alright then."

He chalked it up as another mystery. He was starting to compile a mental list that was, if he dared to say so himself, pretty impressive.

Who was the mysterious "Suxen Lleps"? The name was, if the sound was anything to go by, the reverse of "Nexus Spell" (or Nesk-cus Spill, but that would have been a stupider name than Suxen), but apart from being more of a pony name than a human name it didn't answer anything, and in fact raised more questions.
This was Boston in 2023, but the Convies had already started invading and this place looked like it had been through more of the wars than rioting HLF and PER - or for that matter, Gilead extremists - would allow for. What was happening?
Speaking of the Convies - between their general idiocy, lack of anything resembling tactics, and the fact that the potion had been... different, he was starting to suspect something was up with them. The potion had perhaps been altered, but who would alter the potion to create stupider soldiers, unless there was some benefit to that?

His mind added a 3.5: if that was the case, what was the benefit? There couldn't be a military application to such stupidity, unless it were a way to numb their conscience. Even then, nine times out of ten, a man with a brain and a conscience was a better fighter than a man without either. What then?

He sighed. There were many questions, and a lot of possibilities for answers (from parallel universe to insane nightmare) but nothing definite.

'That’s what this Knight fella is for, I guess,' he thought to himself. Oh well - at least he was getting some exercise, and it could have easily been worse -

Suddenly, he felt something strike his cheek, dragging his attention back to the here and now. He blinked, and dabbed a hand on his cheek, looking at the purple liquid that had struck him with a frown.

"Score!" he heard a voice yell from above him enthusiastically.

Elliot looked up, to see two Pegasi staring at him from a shattered window, one in Royal Guard armor and one that looked like a Convie. He grinned as the potion dissipated, the same odd hissing screaming sound he had heard before emerging from the liquid as it bubbled and boiled. Before the Pegasi could do more than look horrified, he aimed his hand-cannon up at them and shot clean through the Convie's head. The Guard took this as an opportunity to flee, and Elliot sighed.

"Great," he muttered. "Now they'll know I'm around."

He smirked. Not that they would know what he was, he supposed. He was a whole seven years too early, and that was if he was even in the same world, which he was honestly starting to doubt.

'Two things you appreciate more as you get older,' he thought with a smirk. 'Alcohol and confusion to the enemy.'

The smirk vanished as he heard gunfire, this time closer to where he was. He frowned: it sounded almost like it was right up ahead.

With a sigh he started jogging towards the sound: this would be... interesting.

***

The Heart of the World, Canterlot Archives, 'Avatar' Equestria, January 23rd, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030 AD).

A regal Alicorn sat in her chamber, eyes closed, waiting for... something. She wore armour, golden and shining, and lying near her side was a glaive, in reach should she find a need for it.

She had, for the entirety of the day, felt a great presence trying to reach out, and she had retired to this chamber to meditate and seek contact. The Heart of the World was a mighty tool for this sort of work: it amplified the currents of the multiversal energies that made up creation itself, and allowed those who had the knowledge and the patience to ride those currents and seek other intelligences - both the like and the unlike.

After what felt like hours sitting in this position, she found contact.

“Greetings,” she heard a voice speak through the meditation. “You must be the Celestia of your world.”

Solamina opened her eyes, and found herself sitting opposite her mirror image. The only noticeable difference between the two was the existence of a small bag hung around her counterpart's neck.

"Good evening," she said amiably.

"Good evening," her counterpart replied with a smile. "I am Queen Celestia. You are?"

"Empress Astra Solamina Maxima," Solamina replied, "though as we are equals, merely 'Solamina' will suffice."

"And I am merely Celestia," her counterpart returned cordially, though there was a slight flare of something behind her eyes at the word ‘equals’. "I take it you were seeking to contact me."

"I felt a presence and followed it," Solamina said, frowning slightly. "If not you, then..."

"Then something else that was sent to my world, weakening the gap and allowing you to sense me," Queen Celestia finished. "Interesting - that implies a crossover: almost as though something has come to my world."

Solamina frowned slightly, thinking through the possibilities. "It may be a human."

"Oh, you're dealing with those, too?" Celestia said idly. "Annoying things, aren't they?"

Solamina found herself smiling slightly. "Oh, incredibly - I take it you speak from experience."

"Ongoing experience," Celestia said, frowning slightly. "They're annoyingly persistent, despite my attempts to persuade them otherwise."

"Conversion via potion?" Solamina asked with a knowing smile.

"Why yes," Celestia replied, smiling slightly herself, though there was something slightly off about it. "Curious - I thought that solution rather... unique."

"As did I, once," Solamina replied. She gestured to the room. "But having spent much time in the Heart... well, I've learned that nothing is 'unique'. However, our mutual problem may also be a mutual advantage..."

"In what respect?" Celestia asked evenly, her face unreadable.

"Why, think on it this way," Solamina said. "You and I have similar goals - and unless I miss my mark, likely similar ambition. You will not stop at one universe, and nor will I. So tell me - what would you say to the prospect of combining forces?"

"An alliance?" Celestia asked.

"Indeed," Solamina said, smiling at the possibilities. "No doubt there is much we could learn from one another - together, we could crush not just your humans, nor mine, but all that oppose us. It would be wise."

Celestia seemed to consider this for a long moment, her eyes staring off into space.

"No," she said after a moment, smiling again. "I think not."

Solamina frowned. "I see."

"No, I don't think you do," Celestia said, and now her smile became a vicious grin. Solamina stared at her, the bag around her counterpart's neck pulsing like a heart as darkness slowly cover her. "I came here in answer to your search. In the spirit of us being ‘equals, I will give you fair warning: your world is prey. My prey.”

Solamina narrowed her eyes. “Do you think me so weak?”

“Yes,” Queen Celestia said simply. “I will destroy the humans that threaten my harmony, and then I will come for you. Do not think I will not conquer your pitiful Equestria, 'Empress Solamina'. I have already made preparations to war with one of my alternates. Dealing with you will be no different."

Solamina smiled in turn, cold and calculating. She half considered asking this other her, but then dismissed that notion - there would be no point.

"Choosing war may prove to be a mistake on your part," she said quietly. "You would be wise to not underestimate me."

"I doubt that I have," Celestia said, her eyes gaining a yellow tint as she gave her a deranged smile, and then she vanished, her voice echoing slightly as she did so. "But we shall see."

"Indeed," Solamina said quietly to the empty room. "We shall."

***

She opened her eyes, and found herself alone in the chamber. She frowned slightly - the Heart was a strange place, and strange things happened within it, even when one went in prepared and did not activate the worst of its powers. She had no way to know if what she had experienced was real... but it mattered not: even implicit threat from one who might be near her level was enough. Scowling, Solamina exited the Heart chamber.

"Milady?" one of her trusted Eclipse Guard asked, eyes wide.

"Get Commander Twilight Sparkle here at once," Solamina demanded. "We have work to do!"

"Yes milady!" the Guard said. Another Guard was still stood nearby.

"My little pony," Solamina said, "have a message despatched to all corners of the Empire: we are pulling back from the British isles. There is a new threat coming, one that will require our more immediate attention attention."

"I shall leave at once, milady," the Guard said, bowing low. Solamina breathed out, and then suddenly, now that she was alone, she smiled.

'Come to me, Queen Celestia,' she thought to herself, unable to stop a small chuckle escaping her lips. 'Come to die upon my blade. Your false light is nothing before my power. There is no light, no matter how bright, no matter how bold, that can outshine the Sun resplendent!'

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth
11 hours and 33 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

A few minutes after he had started jogging, Elliot found himself near a battle. A squad of humans and ponies ('oh thank God, there are actually ponies fighting with humans!') were fighting against a group of Convies. These Convies had the same listless, almost brain dead look about them, and the humans were having little trouble with them, but Elliot was surprised to see that none of the humans were wearing any kind of hazmat suit that he was familiar with, though they were wearing somewhat more bulky body armour and there was definitely something... different about them, like a tingling that he could barely perceive. Also, the ponies had guns hooked up to some kind of headset. Looked very technical, the kind of thing that'd sell for a lot in Britain nowadays. Were these ponies... were they elites of some kind, getting this stuff?

As he watched, one of them, a man without a helmet on, was hit by a potion and started changing.

Elliot felt sick. The change looked different. Unlike the shedding of the old flesh the potion he knew, this seemed to be a wholly different beast, bones fusing and the flesh sprouting fur. And - whoa! That wasn't a tingle he was feeling. As part of his gifts, he could sense magic, but it wasn't easily described. It was like… like smelling someone lit on fire. There was a sense of something blazing, a flare of magic so bright and quick he was left almost dizzy, and… and…

It was horrifying, but Elliot couldn't look away.

Before it could finish, one of the man's comrades quickly shot him. The transformation stopped halfway - another difference - it would have finished if it was the normal potion, dead or not.

Shaking himself from his momentary stupor, Elliot scowled. He took out his pistol and fired, killing two of the Convies. They turned, milling in confusion at two sources of attack, and quickly the remaining humans took out the last few Convies with a hail of bullets. One particular man - if the insignia were to be believed, of the rank of first lieutenant, with some slight burns apparent on his person - took an exhale of breath from the hectic battle.

"This day just keeps getting and better," he muttered, loudly enough to hear. "And that," he added, pointing at the half-transformed corpse, "is why you keep your fucking headgear on, assholes!"

He turned to look at Elliot, his pale grey eyes looking the man up and down. He turned to his fellow troops and started barking orders.

"Jentson, take Carmichael and Snart and go check out that alleyway ahead." He then turned to the ponies - a Unicorn mare, an Earth Pony mare, and a Pegasus stallion. "Sharp Horn, you take Steel Forge and Air Blitz - I want to know if they're any PER hiding around here. We have to make sure these bastards don't get any further in the city, keeping them at the airport is top priority right now."

His tone gave a sense of his experience, like he had been doing this for a while. Both humans and ponies responded with the usual military acknowledgements, before going off, leaving Elliot and the First Lieutenant alone. The man approached Elliot slowly, looking him up and down.

"Well now, who're you and why are you carrying a hand-cannon?" he asked.

"Major David Elliot, BDF," Elliot replied smartly. Best to make a good first impression. "As for the hand-cannon..." He looked down at the heavy revolver with a smirk. "Small but punch-packing," he said. "Why, you have an objection?

"I think it may be the fact that you could turn out to be some HLF crazy, but seeing how you haven't done anything really stupid yet I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," the soldier answered. "Name's First Lieutenant Winston, UN/PHL Task Force. So," he added, a slightly mocking tone in his voice, "any reason why you're in Boston, Mr. Elliot? Sightseeing a touch?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Elliot smirked. He frowned slightly. "Can't say I've heard of the PHL..."

"Well I can't say I heard of any BDF, unless its Beef Dried Food." Winston chuckled a bit at his own joke, though he stopped quickly at Elliot’s nonplussed expression. "Anyway, seriously, Elliot. Where are you from and what's your deal in Boston?"

"I'm from the arse end of Yorkshire if you want specifics," Elliot replied with a shrug, "though I spent a few years shooting Convies all over the shop, really. As for why I'm here..."

He opened his jacket, letting the lining show. Five manes waved slightly in the breeze.

"I think between these and the fellas I had a 'chat' with here," he continued, indicating the deceased ponies he shot, "my 'deal' is pretty obvious. I’m here to help."

"Uh huh, I see," Winston responded, taking in the sight of five manes that Elliot had on display. "Well then, you should know that here; we call them Newfoals, Zombies, and Merry-Go-Round toys - I ain't ever heard 'em called Convies before."

"Whatever you call them, you look like you need help," Elliot said, smirking slightly.

"We had it in hand," Winston said. "Besides, why would you help me and my unit? I got ponies with me."

"I haven't got a problem with all ponies," Elliot said, narrowing his eyes. "Just some. And these ones..." He closed his coat. "These ones deserved everything I gave them."

"Hmm, so…" Winston said slowly. "What was his name?"

"Uh, who?" Elliot asked, confused.

"His name, what was the name of your buddy? Did you make it quick, or did someone else get him first?" Winston asked. In his experience, everyone had lost someone to the potion, and a guy like Elliot just screamed having shot someone he knew personally.

Elliot scowled. "His name was Sam Lake. And yeah, I made it quick. Don't see how that's altogether relevant."

“And I don’t see why I should trust some guy who comes out of nowhere,” Winston retorted. “But hey, if you’re not against all ponies you might be handy. Just don’t get in our way.”

"Sir!" Elliot and Winston turned to see both the groups the Lieutenant had sent out return. The speaker was a human male, a name-patch on his suit reading 'Carmicheal' "We've got a big number of Newfoals coming in, the damn potion cloud must've converted more than HQ thought."

"How big is 'big'?" Elliot asked unconsciously, forgetting himself for a moment.

The six looked at Elliot, having just noticed the British guy in his battered civilian wear. Before any of them could comment, Winston sighed.

"Is it a Disco or a Heavy count?" he asked.

"Around that, eighty at most." Carmichael replied.

"Son of a taint," Winston muttered. "Well that's just dandy."

"Huh," Elliot said. He flexed a muscle, rolling his neck slightly. "Not so bad."

"Not so bad?" the First Lieutenant repeated, eyeing Elliot - were he and Kraber best buddies or something?

"I've dealt with worse and with less resources," Elliot commented - and that much was true, though admittedly he hadn't exactly chosen those fights.

"Good for you, pal," Winston scowled. "I am not going to stick around to get a potion to the eye just because we wanted to do something stupid like hold the line. You want to come, that's fine by me, just keep up."

"Alright," Elliot said, feeling a bit put off by his retreat order but shrugging anyway. "I can do that."

Killing Convies was kind of his thing - these things might not be 'normal' Convies, but they were Convies. But they were running... it galled him to do so (his mind considered every inch of ground invaluable), but they knew more of what was happening than he did, and he guessed didn't have a chance of getting anywhere without them.

"Alright," Winston said. He turned to his squad. "Get ready, boys and mares. We doing a light run soon."

"Light he says," Steel snorted, causing the others to chuckle.

"Headquarters, this is Patrol one-three on Cypher Street. I got eighty plus Novembers heading to my location. I also have one civilian with me," Winston reported on his radio.

"Roger Patrol One-three, Patrol One is on the corner of Broadway and G Street. They have heavy armor."

"Headquarters, this is Crown Flight. Lieutenant Winston, is that you?"

Elliot turn to see Winston stiffen up. "Y-your Majesty, sir!"

'Wills?' Elliot thought, raising an eyebrow. 'What the bloody hell is he doing here?'

"None of that now. I am over the Reserve Channel now, low on ammo, but I can thin the herd for you. Get going, I will do what I can before I am forced to break off."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Winston barked out.

"Godspeed."

"This is Mueller of Patrol One! We turning around now! Heading toward D Streets, so get your asses going now!"

"This is Patrol One-Four, heading towards your location."

"Patrol Two-Two, finished cleaning house and on the way."

Elliot frowned slightly at the string of radio responses - it almost sounded like everyone had nothing better to do but come help them. He couldn't help but envy that kind of… well, luxury.

"Come on!" Winston shouted as he ran down the street. "Get your lazy asses into gear."

"Try to keep up, civvie!" Steel gave a laugh as they ran past C street. Elliot clucked his tongue in irritation, and tried to remind himself that as of yet, he hadn't given these people and ponies much reason to trust him.

'Going to have to fix that,' he thought.

He watched them from the rear: the group was too strange for him. The Unicorn remained in the middle, her horn glowing but never releasing whatever spell she had. The Pegasus was flying just over their heads, constantly spinning around and watching the area around them. The strangest thing was the Earth pony - she was up at the front of the group, chatting with Winston. These things in isolation weren't over-strange - the Resistance fought alongside the BDF as a matter of course - but their equipment was… well, good. He'd rarely seen a P220, the sole Pony-specific gun, in action, but he figured that whatever these guys had was far more advanced. Plus most Pegasi worked with ERAF squadrons as a matter of course.

'Questions, questions, questions,' he thought to himself. 'My entire life is becoming all about questions. Gimme something to bloody kill, I'm starting to get sick of not knowing what the fuck is going on.'

The sound of a helicopter distracted his attention, and he looked up to see a SeaKing flying overhead. It looked to have been heavily modified: it carried several missile pods on its side, along with several lighter guns onboard.

"Fancy," he murmured, nodding slightly in appreciation. Seeing a nicely modified military chopper was oddly refreshing. Most military hardware he knew of was as worn out as everything else.

"Got them in my sights." he heard Wills say. "Firing."

He heard King William's SeaKing unleash its remaining payload, the sounds of gunfire and missiles cutting off whatever cry of attack the Convies were making.

"Be advised, Patrol One-Three. I got a couple of runners after you. I did all I could, take care of yourselves. Whatever it is, there is a lot more than eighty now."

"How many?" Elliot asked out loud so that Winston could hear him. The man scowled at him then repeated the question.

"Try more than two hundred. Bastards started coming out of the alleyways and sewers the moment I tried thinning them out. Good luck, Winston."

"Fucking roaches. Roger. Book it!" Winston shouted as they neared D St. "Move, move!"

Elliot ran past the Unicorn as she stopped, turning around and unleashed her spell. Elliot blinked as the car he was passing slowly floated off the ground before it was chucked back down the street. He turn to see several Convies quickly gaining ground on them before they were crushed by the flying vehicle. The Unicorn gave a weak grin before collapsing.

"God damn it, Sharp Horn." One man ran back and lifted the Unicorn mare onto his shoulder and rushed back to the group. "Always with the fucking heroics."

"It worked."

"For all of ten seconds," Elliot growled, scowling as he saw a veritable tide of Convies rushing around the corner, each and every one of them smiling as they zeroed on them. "Well… fuck. That is a mite more than two hundred."

"Run, you idiot!" Winston shouted at him, standing on the corner of the street. "I don't care what you think, you are not badass enough for that!"

Elliot smirked slightly, and held out his arm. A moment later it began glowing - only for Elliot to get picked up by the Pegasus.

"What the bloody hell!?" he yelled.

"Come on 'hero', lets go!" he grunted, trying to lift him, and flying back as quickly as he could.

"Watch out!" Elliot saw a Royal Guard hefted a spear and threw it at him, instinctively drawing one of his daggers and batting it aside.

"Thanks, but I got the bastard."

"What do you-" he started, stopping as the yolk he was wearing activated, SMGs springing out and spinning backwards. He looked to his face, seeing his visor light up, a small vicious grin on his face as the guns fired. The guard barely had time to blink at the fact that he was still alive before he was ripped apart by the gunfire.

"Join us!" a Convie cried out as he dove from above, attempting to tackle them out of the sky. He barely avoided the dive, Elliot drawing out his hand-cannon and blew the newfoal apart. He turned the corner, seeing the rest of the group just ahead of them.

"Ok, seriously," Elliot growled. "Enough of this shit. Let me down, I am not an aviator!"

"Fine! Hey Steel, catch!"

"Wait what-BOLLOCKS!" Elliot yelled as he was chucked down, landing on the mare's back.

"Got you!"

"Gah! Enough running!" Elliot shouted as he rolled off. "You wanna see how 'badass' I am? I'll fucking show you!"

He held out his hand as the horde of Convies charged, each and every one of them charging right at him. In his hand, a giant blade materialised.

Ornately decorated, the great two handed blade extended six full feet, as long as Elliot himself. Though he held it in one hand, it did not overbalance, for the blade was impossibly light, cutting through the air with a faint ringing sound. This was Excalibur, blade of Arthur, and his weapon against those who would threaten his home. With it, he felt almost invincible.

"Fuck!" he heard one of the soldiers yell from behind him. "Where the hell did that come from?!"

"That a rune or something?" another asked.

"Does he look like he'd have runes?" a third voice commented.

"Could be another prototype. I'd kill to have the rune that does that!" another whistled.

"Oh shut up, you assholes!" Winston shouted as he paused, taking aim and headshotting a nearby Earth Pony that stumbled out of an alleyway. "Keep running, let the idiot play hero!"

"I," Elliot said quietly, not caring that the man couldn't hear him, "am not playing anything."

The Convies hadn't even paused: definitely more than two hundred of them - it was a bigger number than he'd generally taken on outside of Cornwall (and he'd been rather more... ostentatious that time), but he was sick of running and he was definitely sick of the condescending attitudes from the soldiers he'd been with.

The Convies still kept running at him. Good for them: they'd get to die first. He brought the blade to bear, pointing it right at them, and he started glowing.

"Servants of the fucking Tyrant!" he yelled, his voice amplified slightly. "Prepare for fucking death!"

And suddenly, with a howl of rage, he brought Excalibur down, slamming the blade into the ground and unleashing a wall of magical energy at the things. The crazed ponies crashed against it, their forms faltering and falling to their ground piling on top of each other in a horrific display - it was as though they were all literally running into a brick wall, and yet like the proverbial lemmings they kept coming. One Convie - or Newfoal? - against the wall looked to be crushed, as his mates piled against him, trying to break the shield, by… by running at it?! There was a crack, and something seemed to ooze from his brain, and yet he headbutted it again and again, till part of the shield was coated in grayish-pink viscera...

Jesus, what had this potion done to them?!

He raised Excalibur and the wall subsided, but amazingly, they kept coming.

"Ok, so they don't know when to quit," he muttered. He stepped forward, and began swinging.

The first swing took out three at once, decapitating them. One of them, a Unicorn, tried some spell and Elliot saw a flicker of energy appear around Excalibur, gutter, and die. Grinning, Elliot lashed out, and that Convie died. He jumped back, dodging a tackle from another, and rewarded the thing with a stab forward that impaled the thing.

And they kept coming.

Growling, he swept Excalibur in an arc, cutting three down. He reversed the swing and cut four more down. One of them, an Earth Pony stallion, lost both his legs to the swing, but was still trying to move toward him. Another pony, this one a Unicorn mare, was sliced across the face, splitting her jaw open. She kept coming, and he dodged her, kicking out and sending her flying even as he spotted another pony on his blade. He glanced backward, to see her trying to crawl toward him even as her life's blood leaked out.

He ignored the pitiful sight, instead swinging Excalibur once more in a downward arc, smashing it into the ground again. Another wave of energy exploded from the impact, and more of the crazed ponies were knocked away...

And they kept coming.

"Oh for the love of God, what does it take to make you stop?!" Elliot screamed. He stabbed Excalibur into the ground, causing yet another explosion of energy that scattered the crazed ponies like bowling pins. This only bought him moments before more of them came - he was forced to step back slightly, dodging more tackles. He cursed and swung Excalibur again, cutting through five... ten... twenty...

And. They. Kept. Coming.

What were these things? They were, he realised as he brought his blade swinging in another arc, stupid to the point of not having self-preservation in the slightest. It was as though they didn't care about living or dying at all. The Converted normally were pretty single minded, but depending on their training they were decent fighters: they understood tactics. Hell, he'd once or twice encountered Convies who'd been soldiers before, and they'd been dangerous.

But these... these were dangerous in a different way. Convies were smart. These... Newfoal things were... were...

‘Relentless’, the thought came, unbidden. ‘If they aren't dead, they'll still fight to kill you. That makes them more dangerous in some ways - they'll keep coming until they can't, and even then they'd probably try.’

This was insanity. This was beyond insanity. No Converted he had ever met had been so thoroughly single minded, so utterly unheeding of basic military protocol. These things... they were insane. There was nothing in them except dedication to his destruction, no matter how many of them he killed. Any he didn't kill outright kept on coming... and the faces... good God, that smile might never leave his nightmares, the same damn smile repeated over and over and over...

'How many died so far?' Elliot thought as he swung his sword again, his free hand lashing out and unleashing a shockwave that blasted two into a wall. He watched as they fell apart with every swing, or burst open like balloons as he hacked, and yet the others just kept grinning, even as their former comrades drenched them in their own blood and guts. 'I… I actually lost track.'

This wasn't war. This wasn't combat against an enemy dedicated to your destruction. This was mindless slaughter, nothing but a meat grinder. He had seen horrors, but they had almost made sense - a power hungry Empress and fanatically loyal servants. But these things... God, they were almost like some unholy combination of unthinking machines and... children, not knowing...

... or not allowed to know...

... any better than to do what they were doing.

"Join-us-join-us-see-the-light-stop-the-fighting-you-can't-win..."

Their voices just blended together, and Elliot gritted his teeth at the noise.

"Shut up!" he yelled, decapitating three more.

"You-will-lose-You-will-fall-Join-the-HERD-JOIN-US-IN-THE-LIGHT!"

"SHUT IT!" he screamed, and he let loose a shockwave that scattered half a dozen across the street.

"NOTHING-IS-BETTER-THAN-THE-QUEEN-HELP-US-STOP-THE-HUMANS-NOTHING-IS-BETTER-THAN-BEING-A-PONY-JOIN-THE-HERD!"

He could take no more. Bringing Excalibur down in another arc and jumping backward enough to give himself some space, he held the blade forward and aimed it right at them.

"TAKE YOUR FUCKING HERD," he screamed, "AND STUFF IT UP YOUR BLOODY RECTUM TIL IT EXPLODES OUT YOUR COLLECTIVE FUCKING MOUTHS, YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARDS!"

And with that, he brought the blade down again, smashing more of them aside in a great flash of light that actually cracked the ground. Bodies simply cease to be, breaking apart from the concussive force of the wall, blood spraying everywhere, guts splattering on everything. He paused for breath, coughing slightly from using so much magic, and looked up, eyes widening.

'Relentless,' he thought as he saw them, many getting up, more seemingly coming up the street to cover the loss of Convies. Almost as if he did nothing, and the cycle had just started right back over all over again. 'Absolutely relentless.'

Then he felt it, the same tingle he has been getting whenever they splashed him with potion. It was then he realized that all of them stopped, all of them smiling at him, as one being. None of them blinked, none of them seem to breath, just stopped and waiting. Almost as one, they all looked up, causing him to look up as well.

"Well… shit." He stared at the pink cloud as it fell onto him, blinding him. The same tingling sensation increased tenfold. "That - ah, crap, crap, crap, crap... this fucking itches, you little..."

He began scratching, the same filmy substance coming off his skin again, and he blinked as the stuff got in his eyes and they began watering. He wasn't sure if he didn't care anymore or he was just so furious he'd gone full circle, but there was just no reasoning with these stupid, stupid Convies.

"'Kay then," he said quietly, "fuck this."

He closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment, and suddenly he began glowing, the energy shining from him - and then it shot out, dissipating the mist of pink... stuff, clearing it from his skin and eyes, and leaving him standing in front of a very confused looking bunch of ponies.

"But..." one of them said, looking utterly bewildered.

He rolled his shoulders, frowning at them all.

"Next?!" he called out.

"Wh-what do we do?" one of them asked.

"Maybe we should capture him!" another said, and others began to cheer at his words. "Take him to Miss Sparkle for study! He clearly looks tired! We can just jump on him till he stops!"

Elliot sighed. He didn't want to do this - God knew it'd probably not be good for his long term health - but they'd left him no choice but to use his final show stopper.

"Alright fine!" he said. “Time to end this!"

He raised Excalibur up, and closed his eyes, feeling the power begin to course through him...

... and then a loud whistling distracted him, followed by a bang and a wash of heat. He opened his eyes, the power abating, and he saw the splattered remains of the first few dozen Convies, apparently killed by some sort of RPG.

"...Well goddamn." Elliot looked down to see Sharp Horn, her face stuck between being awestruck and annoyed, grabbed his leg while her horn flared brightly. "That was impressive. Kind of stupid for going it alone, but still impressive."

"Betrayer!" they shouted as one. The Unicorn's only response was to stick out her tongue.

"See ya!"

Elliot felt himself being squeezed into a small ball, before being stretched back out a split second later. He barely had time to catch himself onto the nearest object. He looked up when he felt cool metal touch his hand.

'Its.. its a bloody tank.' Elliot stared at the tank before him, recognizing the model instantly. A Leopard 2A7: these things were impossible to see - any that had somehow been transported to Britain had been destroyed years ago. Blinking, he looked up to see an elder soldier manning a grenade machine gun, smiling down at him.

"Nice show." He looked back up, "Alright, Mueller, Jungs, Feuer!"

The world exploded into noise, the tank unleashed not only the round it held, but a rocket from the secondary weapon it had, a Panzerfaust 3. His hearing was all but gone, and he turned around to see several humvees along with over two dozens soldiers.

M2 Brownings, M240s, Rheinmetall MG3s, GMG launchers, MG2019s, L1A1s, and that was just on the humvees. Every soldier had just as varied personal weapons, all of them automatics or even some grenade launchers. Several ponies dotted the line, each with a saddle or yolk with barrels on them, each one differ from the others, almost personalized.

He turn back down the street, seeing the large wave of Convies simply broke apart, some ran towards them, others tried to fly over, few even tried to use some shield spells.

All for nothing.

The human/pony forces, whoever they were, simply cut them apart. Their bullets punched through the Convies, either exploding them or tearing them apart like wet tissue paper.

'If there's any bright side to wherever, whenever I am… it's that at least they have this much to spare,' Elliot thought. It was almost terrifying, seeing the contemptuous ease with which they ripped the Convies apart, one grenade rendering a Convie to pink mist while the surrounding Convies were blown back from the force.

It was definitely more terrifying seeing the scale they were forced to fight at, though. The Convies swarmed at them, like a tsunami of colors every shade of the rainbow, climbing over the dead bodies of their compatriots, trampling the merely wounded.

And yet it wasn't enough. The tide kept coming, slowly, ever so slowly.

"Fall back!" the elder called out, "We will get the rest of them."

"Wait, what?!" Elliot turn back around, barely able to hear him as he saw the soldier duck back inside the tank.

"Come on!" Winston grabbed him, pulling him back with the group as they fell back. Elliot turned as the tank surged forward, spells slammed into it and spears simply bounced off the armor.

"What is he doing?!" Elliot yelled, shocked. "That thing's gonna get torn up by concussives without support!"

He'd seen it before - tanks might be strong, but they were always vulnerable to earth-crackers from powerful spell casters. Its why tanks were no longer considered viable anymore in the fight against the Convies, they were simply too large of a target to be used.

He look back to Winston, who could only grin at him. "Well, I think we will surprise you, Mr. One-man-army."

He was dragged back, watching as the tank began to glow a deep blood-red, still surging forward into the tide of bodies. He watched as Pegasi tried to pry open the hatch, Earth ponies bucking at the trends, Unicorns blasting away at the armor.

And yet it continued forward.

Then he heard it.

Laughter.

He turned back to Winston, shaking his head as the apparent driver began to speak.

"Come into my parlor, little flies. I welcome you with open hands! Come and gather all around!" the man laughed.

The bodies of the Convies had all but covered the tank, few were trying to make to the retreating line, but a majority of them focused on the armor vehicle.

A deep blood-red light burst forth, shown between the swarming bodies, he felt his senses explode as he felt the magic in the area tripled.

"My, how you all shine brightly like diamonds," he said before an explosion ripped the swarm apart.

The shockwave nearly knocked him over, stunned at what happen. He stood still even as the blood and body parts dropped from the sky, soon followed by the bodies.

"He… he killed himself?" Elliot said in stunned shock.

"Hardly." Winston muttered, staring at the smoking crater. "The guy likes to blow his tank up a lot."

Elliot turn and stared at him, his mouth opening to point out the smoking crater where the tank use to be until he heard the same laughter.

"Aw, is the fun over?" Elliot turn as he heard the familiar rumble of a tank, slowly crawling out of crater it formed.

"But… but how?"

"Magic." Winston chuckled, pointing his gun at a twitching Convie and squeezing the trigger. "Come on, keep up."

Elliot could only stare as the group slowly moved forward, killing whatever Convies that had managed to survive. He sighed as he moved forward, swinging his sword and lobbing off the head of a struggling Convie.

"These people are insane," he said quietly to himself. "Damn if they're not effective, though."

Still. Much as it was a necessity to clear the Convies out from a battlefield, there was something that he had been wondering: what was with these Convies?

He looked around, Excalibur dissolving into nothingness now that he no longer needed it. Might as well switch to the old Vollmer. He closed his eyes: he had seen slaughter. Hell, he had caused plenty of slaughter, especially as Albion... but this was beyond the limits of his experience. Never had Convies been so fanatical, and never had so many just rushed him like this.

"What is this?" he muttered to himself.

A rustling caught his attention, and he frowned. An Earth Pony whose front legs had been severed was desperately trying to push himself toward Elliot, that smile - albeit strained - still on his face. Elliot glared at this thing, this Newfoal, suddenly filled with resolve. He marched towards the pony, before kneeling down and grabbing his head.

He had freed the chains of Hell Blazer. He could shatter the bonds on this thing. It was just a matter of mental magic, wasn't it?

"Get off! Don't touch me, you bucking human!" the Newfoal-thing yelled, shaking its head and trying desperately to throw him off.

"Hey!" someone yelled. "What're you doing?! That's dangerous, we don't-"

He ignored whoever was warning him, instead closing his eyes and gripping tighter. He let the power of Albion fill him just enough that pushing into this thing's mind would be possible, and then...

***

... he was somewhere else. Somewhen else.

Elliot blinked as he found himself inside of a closed shop full of mirrors, all of them covered in dust and broken in some regards. The light was low and it was quiet… too quiet. The floorboards under the soles of his feet creaked, and he could hear the sounds of fighting outside.

"A mental plane of some kind," he murmured, surprised at how jaded he felt about it. He'd heard about it - even been here before after meditating - but rarely had it been like this. "Wonderful."

This raised many questions, but the obvious thing to adjust to was that this was nothing like what Elliot was expecting - something at least cleaner and more than simply just mirrors, maybe one painting of the Tyrant at least?

There was a weak whispery sound from the back half of the store, in one of the back rooms.

Summoning Excalibur - or a mental plane representation of the blade at least - Elliot started to move towards the back half of the store - it being separated by a mere tattered curtain - to get some answers and possibly free this poor soul from the potion's conditioning.

He saw the typical backroom you would expect in a store. It looked like it had survived a simultaneous storm and earthquake, the cans and all the other various wares all over the floor. The shelves had collapsed, and were also rotting, and the lightbulbs above flickered in and out.

'I don't get it, why is this place so… dirty?' he thought, going past an old stool and a piece of rope attached to the ceiling without much thought or attention to either.

The sound… it was getting louder, a pounding like hitting a hammer on a solid wall - he must have been getting closer. He wandered through the room, turned a corner, and saw it.

There was a man in a chained up mirror, its frame a black that felt… it wasn't empty. There was something behind the black, staring at the man. As if every spot was an eye. As if the very shadows were holding him in somehow, enveloping him, eating him up…

The man pounded relentlessly on the mirror, tears straining on his face while shouting, and yet there wasn't any sound coming from it. What was… what was this?

Raising his sword, Elliot brought it down to slice the chains, but the minute they were sliced in half, more sprang from nowhere, grabbing the mirror and restraining it once again.

"What the hell?" Elliot said, eyes widening. "What is this?"

He span around, a noise clanging from somewhere behind him.

"Hello?" he asked. "Hello?"

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" a voice demanded.

Elliot turned around, to see Twilight Sparkle - a much younger looking Twilight Sparkle - emerge from the darkness. Her eyes looked like they belonged to the kind of child that might decide to 'play doctor' with scissors and scalpels, not at all like the worn eyes the Commander had been described as having.

"Well?" she demanded, impatiently.

"Twilight Sparkle," Elliot frowned. "I might ask the same of you."

"You aren't sporting any of those pesky runes, and you're clearly human," this Sparkle frowned. "What are you?"

Elliot gripped Excalibur. "The man who's going to kill you. But apart from that, I'm a man who is very confused, very angry, and very happy to start causing you a lot of pain right now unless you answer the question."

It was then that Twilight let off a harsh, cruel, cold laugh that sent a chill down Elliot's spine.

"Silly human, you think just because you're an anomaly you're strong enough to beat me?" the mare asked. "I'm not even technically here."

Elliot grinned. His hand twitched to his coat, and he opened it up, showing off the manes of the five ponies he had killed during his time as the Avatar.

"We might be in the mental plane," he said, "but you know these are representations of the real deal."

"That is wrong," she said lightly, "The Elements are not slain, I know that for a fact… you're delusional, even more than that ridiculous human Marcus Renee."

For a moment, Elliot saw a jar headed american man with close-cropped blond hair and lightly glowing tattoos on his figure within his mind.

"You both are ants that think they can stop my glory," she said darkly.

"This ant can punch above his weight," Elliot smirked, ignoring the vision. "There's some pretty weird shit going on in this world, but don't be fooled. I killed the Elements of Order."

He concentrated, and projected an image of the death of Rarity, then the death of Fluttershy, and then the image of Applejack's demise, and then Rainbow Dash's, and finally Pinkie Pie's. The figure of Twilight Sparkle narrowed her eyes at this.

"Elements of Order," she repeated, deep in thought, before it slowly came to her, a sinister twisted grin appearing on her face. "I think I get it now, oh… how interesting. How very interesting… I look forward to binding your soul to my will…. monkey."

"I would like to see you try, monster," Elliot scowled. "But I think I'll love cutting your head off more."

He brought Excalibur up and lashed out, chopping through her neck… and yet it was bloodless.

"Interesting," said her head from the floor. "But foolish. Did you forget we're in the mental plane? That's a mere annoyance."

"Nice trick," Elliot scowled. "Won't work forever though. I'll be happy to prove you wrong soon enough."

"If you say so…" the Unicore mare said, and then she disappeared, fading back into the floor. "But I am not the one who blindly threw myself into the head of a broken mind."

Elliot cursed and, weighing his options, decided to press on. He marched into the darkness, throwing one last glance at the strange mirror. There was definitely something off about all of this.

He walked through a door into a corridor - the corridor was long, and so dark that he couldn't see the other end of it.

"This is great," Elliot said quietly. "Just great."

He walked into the corridor, keeping on his guard. At first, it seemed almost normal - picture frames were on the walls, with pictures of flowers and other things, happy and almost normal. Then they started getting different - mouths, gaping, then eyes, staring, then bones and skulls, equine and human alike. The corridor started getting shabbier and shabbier, until the eyes started following him, bloodshot and with tears in their eyes.

It didn't help that the entire corridor was filled with murmuring and whispering, deep in the background of the room, so quiet that he almost couldn't hear it.

...you-can't-escape-it-was-good-that-we-killed-them-ssshhhh-you-don't-know-what-you're-walking-into-it-was-good-that-we-saved-them…

He ignored the whispering and carried on regardless, but the corridor didn't seem to have an end.

"Come on," he said quietly. "I know you're out here. Face me!"

...you-can't-defeat-us-it-was-good-that-we-saved-them-you-will-be-happier-ssssshhhhhh-you-know-we're-right-stop-fighting-the-inevitable…

"Stop that damnable whispering too!" Elliot muttered. It was similar to the deranged chanting of those Newfoal things, but much, much more insidious, feeling like it was creeping into his ear.

Eventually he came to a door - it was wooden, old and rotted, and it opened with an audible creak.

...we-know-who-you-are…

And he had entered a realm of impossibility.

It was a street in a city, in the cool, blue light of twilight (the irony not escaping him). The city was barely lit, the odd light flickering in windows and doorways.

This city was a nightmare.

The buildings were ruined and broken, like jagged metal teeth reaching toward the sky. There were bodies hanging from lamp posts, pony and human alike. He could see members of Grey Squadron, True Grit, Jan Lockett and her squad, Redmond, Lyra… Hell Blazer and Sam. He could hear the chimes of Big Ben, and in the distance there was the sound of battle. Air raid sirens were wailing futilely.

"You left us to die," a monotone voice called out. He looked up, and saw one of Jan Lockett's squad speaking, cold blue lips moving, eyes staring at nothing.

"Why did you abandon us?" another voice spoke, and Elliot saw Lyra, her eyes boring into him.

"You abandoned us," a third voice spoke, Jan Lockett herself, hanging by her ankles from a sign, a neat hole in her forehead from a bullet.

"Why?" was all Sam asked from his lamp post, frowning quizzically.

Elliot ignored the bodies and kept walking, Excalibur gripped tightly in his hand.

...we-know-who-you-are-you-cannot-hide-from-us…

"Who's hiding?" he called out, trying to project a confidence he did not feel. "I'm right here. You're the one hiding behind faces ripped from my mind."

This was not Solaminan magic, methods or tactics. This was… this was a war machine seemingly dedicated to causing as much suffering as possible. This was nothing he had ever encountered before. But he was determined not to be afraid. He was not afraid.

"You were hiding before, too!" he yelled, now feeling braver. "Hiding behind the face of Sparkle! Why don't you stop that and show yourself? Or are you afraid?"

Silence was all Elliot got. Until -

"You have no idea what you have unleashed," a voice said coldly, a sibilant whisper on the air. "Your world will burn next because of you."

"Show yourself!" Elliot yelled, raising Excalibur into a guard stance.

For a moment, there was silence in the street. Wind whistled through the buildings, and the corpses, still staring at Elliot, swayed on their gibbets.

There was something wrong. The shadows at the end of the street were darker than they should have been, darker than they had any right to be. He scowled, sensing something was up.

And suddenly, there it was.

A figure emerged from the blackness, seemingly made of shadow itself. He couldn't tell what it was meant to be, as its shape kept fluctuating - sometimes it looked like an Alicorn, and other times it looked more like… a centaur? Did such things exist?

'Seriously, you literally use King Arthur's sword Excalibur and you're wondering about fucking centaurs,' he thought to himself, almost amused except for the fact that he was more terrified than he thought he could still be.

Suddenly he found himself thrown backwards, Excalibur flying from his grip. The thing had unleashed some sort of attack, and it threw him across the street, skidding on the floor until he came to a dead stop. He raised a hand to shield himself, futilely, from the figure as it approached him.

"You are nothing to me," the figure spoke, its voice quiet but echoing as it marched inexorably toward him. "I do not know where you have come from, though I know you are not from this world, but it matters not either way. You are an insect. I am eternal, unstoppable. I AM THE REGENT SUN!"

This last shout blew Elliot back further, until he slammed into a wall. He coughed and retched in pain as the thing approached him, and he knew that this thing wouldn't stop until it had killed him - what was this? Was this Solamina? No, it couldn't be - there was nothing familiar about this evil, and Elliot - as the Avatar - had broken her magic before. This was different, manifested differently… but, he could sense, just as dangerous in its own way.

The thing kept marching toward him, and he braced himself for more pain.

And then, to his surprise, Excalibur appeared - it flew from where it had landed, discarded, and positioned itself before him, pointed slightly toward the figure.

"You will not pass, creature of the Darkness," a voice spoke, and Elliot's eyes widened in shock as a figure appeared, clad from head to toe in pure white, ancient armour that gleamed like a sun. The light seemed to be literally radiating from this Knight as he stood between Elliot and the dark figure, and the silhouette stopped, as if considering its next move. "You will not touch this one. You will be driven back."

"And who are you to think you can drive me back?" the dark figure spoke.

The Knight gave no answer, merely holding Excalibur up. The light from the Knight and the shadows that swirled around the silhouetted figure seemed almost to duel one another, flickering this way and that.

It didn't even seem to mind, like the Knight was nothing more than something to amuse itself with. "Well, well. Are you not interesting to see. Tell me, little knight, what are you?"

"The one that'll leave you dead and bleeding in the dirt!" Elliot yelled, only to gasp as the being turned towards him, his very mind assaulted by thousands, nay millions of voices, screaming as one.

"Quiet boy, the adults are speaking."

And yet, just as suddenly as the assault started, it stopped, leaving Elliot gasping. He looked up to see the Knight still standing between him and the shadowy figure.

"I told you," the Knight said. "You will not touch this one, servant of evil. I will not allow it."

“Allow? Allow? And who are you to disallow me anything?"

"We are one, this one and I," the Knight replied. "Together, we are justice! Together, we are vengeance! We are the Avatar of Albion!"

"Well... Little Avatar... you make for one of the very few humans that have managed to amuse me. Come then! Show me your might!"

And as the light and the dark clashed and David's sight failed him, a voice rang out into his mind.

Wake up David Elliot.

***

Elliot jumped backwards, pushing himself away from the thing... this thing that was definitelynot a Convie. It was like it, but different - something lived at the heart of it, an evil entirely unlike the Conversion he knew. He knew that now. Whatever that figure in the depths of this thing's mind had been… it was not anything he had encountered before. He didn't know what had happened, what had broken the connection, and he didn't think he wanted to know. He was just glad it had been broken. He coughed, ignoring the flecks of blood on his hand.

"What in God's name did you just do?!" he heard a voice ask in surprise, but he ignored it. The Convie - the Newfoal - sputtered for a moment, eyes wide and mouth frothing, before expiring.

Elliot looked around and suddenly realised that he was not alone - two men were aiming guns at him, backed up by at least three ponies, including the largest Earth Pony he had ever seen, a stallion nearly twice the size of the average mare. One of them, a man in advanced-looking armour, carrying a big gun, with a bushy beard and furious eyes, grinned mirthlessly as he aimed the gun right at Elliot's face.

"Elliot?" the bearded man asked, mystified. "The fok are you doing here?"

***

Author's Note

...Yup. Kraber's finally here.
If you'd seen my previous creative output, this would be really inevitable.

The World Through A Funhouse Mirror

Chapter Two: The World Through A Funhouse Mirror

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy
TheIdiot
Jed R

Editors
RoyalPsycho
The Void

This chapter also contains direct segments used in the chapter Knell from The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum. But it's okay since we're co-authors and helped write Spectrum. Trust us on this.

"Indeed in nothing is the power of the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all those who still oppose him. Yet so little faith do we find now in the world beyond Lothlórien, unless maybe in Rivendell, that we dare not by our own trust endanger our land."

- Haldir of Lorien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

Simmons: D'you ever wonder why we're here?
Grif: It's one of life's great mysteries, isn't it? Why are we here? I mean, are we the product of some... cosmic coincidence? Or is there really a God, watching everything, you know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night.
Simmons: ...What? I mean why are we out here, in this canyon?
Grif: Oh. Uhhhhh. Yeah.

- Simmons and Grif, Red vs Blue, series 1, episode 1: Why are we here?.

When you're going through hell, keep going.
- Winston Churchill

***

London, January 25th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

The first five minutes after David had disappeared were torturous for Hell Blazer. The yellow Converted found himself pacing, mixed with a little bit of glancing at Lyra and keeping her stable as best he could (the odd healing spell - they were keeping her alive, but not much else). He didn't know if David would succeed - he didn't even know where in Equestria he would end up - but he did have faith, no matter what David thought. He had faith in David to pull something out of his arse.

Still, he didn't think he'd live to see it. Outside, Jan Lockett and her soldiers were holding off Royal Guard who had begun an assault on their position - the same Guard he, Elliot and Lyra had engaged and the same Guard that had injured the latter. Hell Blazer practiced summoning and dissipating fireballs. He got the feeling he'd need one.

A few moments passed, and the sound of shooting abated from outside. He tensed - did that mean that they had killed Lockett and her team, or…?

He was almost scared out of his skin when Lockett entered the small room, looking surprised, her mask pulled off, exposing scarred skin. It was all he could do to not instinctively chuck a fireball at her.

"You ain't gonna believe this, sir," she said softly. "The bloody Guard…"

"What about them?" Hell Blazer asked, frowning in confusion.

Lockett paused for a moment before replying. "They've gone!"

***

Under escort of Stabsunteroffizier Viktor Kraber. Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth
12 hours and 14 minutes after the disappearance of Marcus Renee

Elliot's weapons were taken from him in short order and he was placed under guard. If the troops he had fought alongside before were strange (and impressively equipped), then these were even more so. There was a weapon on the giant Earth Pony's back that made the experimental P220 look like a nerf gun. The bearded man who had spoken was carrying a big heavy MG2019, but Elliot wasn't sure, it had been a long time since the days when guns like that had been a common sight. Elliot's old Vollmer VK-12 was about the most advanced weapon he had, and he had access to the best. He knew some people who had Thompsons and BARs, Brens and AK-47s, M16s and the occasional standard issue L85 that had survived the six years of conflict: the latter were considered pretty damn lucky.

Elliot knew the man's voice and face, he realised with a frown. It brought up memories of a time before he had become the Avatar…

***

There had been a PER man clutching his balls, his face a pulped ruin. A scowling Afrikaner with a spiked helmet with several more spikes attached, like a chariacture of a pickelhaube, dripping blood, had been standing nearby, an old revolver in one hand, his knuckles battered. Blood dripped from the old pickelhaube, and there was a lead pipe that impaled a Convie's neck, pinning him to a wall. Yet another PER man had taken a cheap beer bottle to the face. Another one looked to have been beaten with his own severed leg.

"He 'eadbutted me in the balls!" the last surviving PER man had screamed.

"Not bad," Elliot had smirked. He had been assigned to duty in Plymouth briefly - only a Sergeant, and yet still already on his way to being well-known, more for recklessness and daring tactics than anything else. "I've seen less efficient ways of dealing with these bastards."

"Who gives a fok about 'efficient'?" the man had said, chuckling. "I'm just having too much fun for regrets." He had held out a hand. "Viktor Kraber."

"David Elliot," Elliot had replied.

***

This Kraber, however, remembered the two men meeting... a little bit differently.

Of all the people he had expected to see, besides his children, his wife, his cousin Richard, thanks to Celly being in an inevitably more-sadistic-than-usual mood, David Elliot had not been one.

They'd met after some mission, one of the first after Kraber was transferred to the Bundeswehr, right after he and Aegis had been on leave. It had been cold and miserable, right in the middle of New York, just after Kraber had run into Angus Reid again, inquired about poor Dominique from Taskforce Paris, and he and Aegis had found themselves in some bar with a couple of Brits. It had been a little while before Verity had gotten ponified too...

***

"Damn, you guys can really put it away!" John Constantine had laughed, as Kraber downed a mug full of bourbon.

"Oh, that's nothing," Kraber had laughed, "You should see Aegis on a good day!"

"Not sure if I'd want to," David Elliot had smirked, while his friend Sam had slumped onto the bar, passed out. "But fuck it, I'll race you to ten pints."

And after that race (Kraber had won), somehow they'd ended up singing 'Going out in Style', muddying the words until they collapsed against the floor and Kraber had to ride Aegis out the building.

***

The David Elliot currently walking behind them frowned as he considered this familiar yet unfamiliar man. His hands weren't bound, but he understood well enough that he was a prisoner of this group of people and ponies. Wherever they were taking him, he hoped it would be somewhere where he could get some answers about... all of this.

The man and the pony were talking, but they were speaking so quietly that Elliot couldn't hear a word of it. He caught the odd word - mainly a whole load of "fok" - but most of it was too quiet to hear, and his Afrikaner accent was broader than the English Channel.

"Hey," he said. "How much farther?"

"Shut up," one of the other soldiers said. "Fuckin' HLF bastard."

"You think he's HLF?" another one asked. "You heard what Winston said - fuckin' magic sword from nowhere, man. That ain't HLF."

"Well what the fuck is he then?" the first soldier said.

"Annoyed at being referred to like he isn't here," Elliot muttered.

"I said shut up!" the first soldier snapped.

"Why don't you all shut the fok up?" Kraber snapped at them all. "You," he said, pointing at Elliot, "can keep quiet until we reach the base, and then they'll ask whatever they want and you can answer them. I got the feeling we should be nice. The rest of you," he added, pointing at the soldiers, "can shut the fok up because you're fokking getting on my nerves. Even if I have no idea what the fok he's going on about, he's still a friend."

"I barely even know you," Elliot pointed out, frowning at him. "I don't even know why you'd be here."

"...Not helpin' your case, Dave," said the giant Earth Pony.

"Well, 'course I'm here. Where else would I be?" Kraber asked.

To that, Elliot had no answer.

"Besides, maybe you just don't know this me," Kraber said.

A tense silence fell, the muttering of the giant Earth Pony and Kraber aside. Elliot frowned at that.

'This me', he said, he thought to himself. So. That's interesting.

Parallel universes then. That idea kept popping up. Maybe...

'Maybe... maybe this is a world with the Tyrant attacking early, while the Barrier's still expanding,' he thought to himself. 'Might explain a few things. Doesn't explain the difference in the potion, or that... thing. Or maybe this is the past, and I just never knew about any of this...'

Nah. That couldn't be right. Besides, somehow, he felt as if he was just trying to convince himself.

"I'm in another world, aren't I?" Elliot asked, sounding (and feeling) exasperated. "Just no way of getting around it."

"Another world with my friend," the giant Earth Pony said thoughtfully. "Am I in it?"

"I think I'd remember a pony as big as you," Elliot said.

"...Am I in it?" Kraber asked.

"Oh, here he goes," sighed one soldier. "He's just gotta be everywhere, doesn't h-"

"Yeah, you are," Elliot said.

"Wha - goddammit," the soldier sighed.

"Though, you look a lot older where I'm from - though I suppose that makes sense."

"Where are you from, though?" the huge Earth Pony asked.

"The British Isles," he replied. "Actually this small little patch of nowhere in Yorkshire, though I was in London when I left..."

"Bullshit," one of the soldiers muttered.

"Well, what're they like?" the giant pony asked, ignoring the comment.

"A hell of a lot worse than here," Elliot said, desperately hoping that wherever they were, whatever happened, his friends back home were alright. "They're the last places left in the world the Barrier hasn't eaten up -"

"Definitely sounds like you're from another world," said the huge Earth Pony. "I don't know about half the stuff you're saying."

"What? You're accepting it? Just like that?" Elliot asked.

One of the soldier was scowling. "Yeah, he could be a-"

"What?" Kraber asked. "He could be a what, pulling a magical sword out of nowhere?"

"Eh, when you hear some of the stories this one tells, you'd believe anything," the huge Earth Pony said, pointing one hoof up at this strange, younger Kraber. "Tell him about that time you dropped a helicopter on that Newfoal that could resurrect the dead!"

"Oh, that was not kwaai," Kraber said. "Then I had to set her on fokkin' fire… then all my limbs got broken… It was like the second worst pain I've ever felt. Think I might have gotten paralyzed for a second."

"... you know what, I can see how you might be accepting," Elliot said, smirking slightly and shaking his head. "Think I might want to hear that one later…"

"You sure? It's a long, long story," the huge Earth Pony said.

Elliot just kept smiling. After a moment, he began chuckling slightly, and within a few more moments he was laughing aloud.

"What the fuck is funny?" the soldier from earlier asked.

"You mean apart from my entire life?" Elliot asked, still laughing. "God. Nothing. Nothing at all. Lay on, Macduff and co. Take me to your leader. I might as well confuse more people than myself before the day's out."

"Which one of us is Macduff?" Kraber pondered aloud.

***

Kraber had eventually escorted Elliot to what was the base of operations for their unit. It was, as Elliot might have come to expect from these people, full of advanced-looking tech and generally felt more like a base than a repurposed old corner shop.

Lucky bastards, he found himself thinking with a mirthless smile. He counted half a dozen weapons that he knew were all but non-existent in his world, and there were at least three he didn't know at all. The most recognisable gun he saw was an Andra FD-99 someone was holding, and even that looked modified.

They had taken his weapons from the soldier who had confiscated them and put them in a box somewhere - he still didn't like it, but he hadn't had a choice. Now he was sat in a room, waiting for someone to come and speak with him. Eventually, a wiry blonde man with a little more muscle than he looked like he should have entered the room, wearing fatigues with a rank insignia that looked like that of a Lieutenant.

"So, my name is Lieutenant Kellman," the man said idly, looking at a clipboard and frowning slightly at whatever he was reading. "I think we'll start this simple. Your name please?"

"Major David Elliot, BDF," Elliot replied, as sharply as he could. Might as well start professional.

"Uh huh," Kellman said, nodding slowly. "And what's the BDF?"

"Stands for British Defence Force," Elliot explained. "Bit of a misnomer really - it's a loose coalition of troops from everywhere, but BDF was what was chosen to gather everyone under one authority so that all the different troops from armies could work together, and you have no idea what I'm on about, do you?"

"... no," Kellman admitted with a strained smile. "Alright then - where do you come from?"

"Britain," Elliot replied.

"More recently?" Kellman asked.

"Funny you should mention time," Elliot smiled slightly. "It's 2023, yeah? Well, you're not gonna believe this, but I come from 2030. Was just in London, in fact."

Kellman paused slightly, and frowned in disbelief. "Time travel I could almost accept - we know Doctor Whooves, after all. But Britain fell years ago."

"What?" Elliot said, his eyes widening in surprise. "But… but the Barrier hasn't even burned through America yet..."

"Well it started at CERN," Kellman said with a slight shrug, looking irritated. "Europe was always the first in line to go."

"No," Elliot said, holding up a hand, "it started on Portal Island, in the Pacific."

Kellman sighed, now clearly irritated. "What the fuck are you talking about?! Besides, having a portal randomly appear in the ocean would have all kinds of bizarre climatological effects. What about, I don't know tsunamis?"

"Do I look like a geography student or a bloody climatologist?" Elliot said, raising an eyebrow. "We always assumed it was just magic. Because, you know, magic. Pastel ponies were a bigger deal than an island smaller than diddly squit appearing, and that was before the Barrier started expanding." He paused. "What the fuck happened here?"

"Here?" Kellman asked. "As in, this city?"

"As in this planet," Elliot clarified.

"Shit happened," a new voice said. The owner of the voice was a stern looking man with a German accent, wearing some sort of armour that reminded Elliot vaguely of some of the designs for the Iron Clad program back in the old days, albeit made from what looked like ceramics and hardened plastics, rather than the Paladin I prototypes which were all steel and the Paladin II steel/titanium alloy.

Behind him came Kraber and his Earth Pony compatriot - the former giving Elliot a slightly ironic wave that he returned with a sardonic smile - and a maroon pony mare with a cutie mark of three smiling flowers. It was the armoured man that caught Elliot's eye the most though. He looked almost like a...

"Hello," Elliot said, smirking. "I guess you're the 'Knight' I heard about."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's me. Major Stephan Bauer. You know Kraber and Aegis, and this is Cheerilee."

"Why are they here?" Kellman asked.

"Cause he knows me, and I know him," Kraber said. "Or at least, we know a version of each other."

"Though, from what Kraber tells me," the armoured man said, "last time he met you he couldn't do that sort of thing."

"Major David Elliot," Elliot said. "So - shit happened? What kind of shit?"

"You don't know?" Bauer asked, frowning.

"Indulge the poor crazy British man," Elliot said with a slightly sarcastic tone, spreading his arms wide.

"Fine," Bauer said. "Celestia somehow managed to join a portal to CERN. She spent a year provoking humanity, trying to make an excuse for war, bring tensions up to make us more desperate. Then, she expanded the Barrier across Earth… Britain was one of the first places to go. It's just landed in the Americas, and we're in the process of evacuating. Haven't got much time left…"

Elliot took a moment to process all that he had just heard.

"Well... fuck." He blinked, feeling suddenly, irrationally angry. "Fuck this. Fucking FUCK THIS! Are you telling me that I travel the space between dimensions, end up seven years in the past on a parallel Earth, and there's still a Celestia that went mad out to fucking annihilate the human race?! Are you FUCKING kidding me?! What the fuck is it with Equestria?! How the fuck do you even fucking function?! Is this some predetermined crap, that you fucking just come and wreck people's shit in every possible version of reality?! Why in God's name can't I come somewhere NICE?!"

He paused, taking a breath, before slumping in his seat. Everyone looked somewhat shocked at his outburst.

"...Present company excluded, I guess. Sod's law is a bitch," he said after a moment. He smiled sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed by his outburst. "So who are you ponies, anyway? Equestrian Resistance?"

"Don't be stupid," Kellman said with a frown. "They're with the PHL."

"PHL?" Elliot asked blankly.

"Oh, everyone's heard of the fucking PHL," Kellman said exasperatedly, "where the fuck have you..."

"I think," Elliot cut him off, "that it's been well established that I'm not 'everyone' - so what are they?"

It was Cheerilee who answered, her voice calm and collected. "Ponies for Human Life - founded by Lyra Heartstrings and now one of the biggest forces fighting against Celestia."

Elliot's eyebrows raised in surprise at that. "Lyra? Huh."

"What?" Bauer asked.

"Nothing, just..." Elliot said, trailing slightly. "I knew her."

Lyra unconscious. Lyra dying, her life's breath shallow as the damage from the spell took its toll. Him, too slow.

Again.

"Is she around?" he asked quietly.

"Fuck me, where the hell have you been?" Kellman yelled.

"Lyra's dead," Cheerilee explained shortly, drowning in confusion. "Celestia had her executed. It's rather well known..."

"Oh," Elliot said blankly, nodding slowly. "Oh, I see."

"Easy on him, he's not from this world," Aegis said quietly.

"That is bullshit," Kellman said, and even Bauer nodded slightly at that.

"Really? You're being skeptical now?" Kraber asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, really."

It's hard to pronounce the absence of a question mark or punctuation. Kraber managed, if only because the sarcasm managed to drown them out.

Bauer nodded at that. "Okay, fair point, Stabsunteroffizier." He turned back to Elliot. "I'm not going to say that nothing surprises me anymore, but we're getting there. So - according to the report, you have certain... abilities. What's the story?"

"What do you mean?" Elliot asked.

"I mean, how did you get them? We checked you - no runes. Nothing on your weapons to explain it, nothing in your clothes, no tattoos. So how can you do magic?" Major Bauer asked.

"Wait, that's where your magic comes from?" Elliot asked. "We considered using runics back home - if we got the bloody Iron Clad project to work, bloody no time or resources to make the things…"

"Well, we had to work the hard way for most of this," Major Bauer said, cutting him off. "Doesn't answer my question."

"It's internal," Elliot explained.

"What, like internalised runes? How would that work?" Cheerilee asked.

"No, not internalised runes - the magic is internal," Elliot clarified. "It's a power I am… blessed with. Or cursed with. Depends on your point of view."

"What do you mean?" Cheerilee asked.

"It's not important," Elliot said with a shrug.

"So this internalised magic - it gives you immunity to the potion, it lets you use spells and summon a big sword, and you don't even need any tattoos or armour to make it work," said Major Bauer, sounding like he disapproved. "Is that an accurate summary?"

"It is," Elliot replied with a nod. "Though not a complete one - there's other stuff I can do that I haven't needed to here yet."

Bauer frowned, looking as though this concerned him even more.

"If it's so useful, why haven't you shared it with others?" Kellman asked, frowning. "Seems like it might be good for others to have."

"I sort of did share it, but it's unique magic - I can't just copy it to others," Elliot explained, thinking of Sir Eric. "For one thing, I didn't make it happen and the man who did is… not here. For another, there's… well. There's side effects you wouldn't want."

"Does it… does it cause tumors?" Cheerilee asked, concerned.

"What? No. Magic doesn't do that," Elliot said, confused. "Not even pony magic -"

He was interrupted by a whoop of joy from Kraber. "I FOKKING CALLED IT! Damn, I haven't felt this good since I found out Grunkle Stan had a twin!"

"Focus, Kraber," Cheerilee said.

"It makes perfect fokkin' sense, though!" Kraber said. "Think about it - Why would Celestia tell us the truth? She doesn't give a fok about us, so that makes a great ultimatum. If human weapons can't do kak to the barrier, then the only thing that might is magic!" He was shaking with excitement, then his face fell. "But if she hobbles us, cripples years of advancement, by telling us we'd melt, that's scary enough that most scientists would be too scared to test it. So then, so many fokking kwaai projects get canceled, I don't get my fokking MG2023 and neither does anyone else, probable billions die, including Lyra because the PHL were so… fokking... slow to experi..." Kraber was shaking in anger as his voice trailed off and the realization of just how badly he and all humanity had been conned set into his mind. "Fok that fokking mank genaaide bergbok, I'll rip off haar kop en piss vlam gonorree in haar skedel…"

"...Translation?" Cheerilee asked.

"No," Aegis and Elliot said. Both remembered, in different contexts, Kraber telling them that South Africans swore to put the fear of God in people, and his usual profane slips into Afrikaans were enough to make Aegis wish his foals (who were on the 501, somewhere in upstate New York or Vermont) never learned the language. Elliot, meanwhile, had heard the slips into Afrikaans mainly when Kraber had been dealing with PER during his tour in Plymouth. It had been... violent, and Kraber had usually referred to himself as "disassembling" them - which wasn't entirely inaccurate.

"I want some magic like yours," Kraber said, "or maybe the ability to explode newfoals with my mind again-"

"That'd take too long to explain," Aegis interrupted. "Just go with it."

"It was hilarious, though!" Kraber laughed. "I'd always dreamed of having superpowers, and then, suddenly, I had head-explody!"

"You... wouldn't want what I've got," Elliot said, looking slightly bemused at Kraber's amusement, and Aegis rearing up slightly, crossing and uncrossing his hooves in an almost universal sign for "Don't ask."

"Why not?" Kraber asked. "Shooting spells, giant sword, never having to worry about the fokkin' potion..."

"Because I'm dying," Elliot said bluntly. "Magic burnout."

"What?" Cheerilee said, frowning. "What's magic burnout?"

"Overload of magic to my system," Elliot said shortly, feeling surprisingly clinical about the whole thing, considering. "Magic isn't inherently harmful to humans, but the human body isn't designed to internally channel magic all that much, especially not an unaugmented body like mine. We didn't realise until I fell into a coma wiping out an entire army of Convies and Guard at Cornwall."

"What happened there?" Cheerilee asked, looking confused.

"Sparkle and an army landed on a beach," Elliot said with a shrug. "I… stopped them."

"An entire army?" Kellman said with a raised eyebrow. "How?"

Elliot smirked slightly. "By… possibly starting a self-generated hurricane. Not sure, can't really remember much about it. I think about twenty ponies plus Sparkle survived that one, though I think a few of them promptly got decapitated or otherwise effed up by this crazy fella who charged out to help me when I collapsed."

"...You created a hurricane," Aegis said, sounding vaguely awestruck. "The things we could do with that…"

"Yeah, like, for example, cause your entire cellular structure to begin degrading," Elliot said with a sarcastic grin. "Kinda like mine is."

"...Ouch. Still, if your world's that much more desperate than ours, I think it'd be worth it if you won," Kraber said.

"I keep telling myself that," Elliot said with a smirk. He coughed slightly, frowning at his hand when a fleck of blood appeared. "I don't even know how long I have left."

"The candle that burns brighter burns fastest," Aegis said.

"The candle that doesn't light the room you lit it for ain't worth the wax," Elliot retorted with a mirthless smirk. "I could fart rainbows and it wouldn't matter if I died before I fulfill the reason I was given this power."

"...I'll talk to PHL medical. I'll see what we can do," Kraber added. "Might not be much, and I might not be your Kraber, but there's probably something." He paused. "I had this idea once, of implanting alicornal tissue into people, but it never seemed like a good idea. Might help with your burnout. Which reminds me, now that we know magic isn't harmful, can I have that MG2023 now?"

"Yes," Cheerilee sighed, looking visibly resigned.

Elliot looked between the two of them, bemused. "And that is?"

"It's a big fokkin' machinegun with an underbarrel tesla weapon," Kraber said gleefully. "Lightning arcs to whatever the bullets hit, so…" he smiled. "Oh, this'll be so much fokkin' fun to use on newfoals, I can pop them like balloons!" a light cackle escaped from him. "Also, uh… I wanted to modify that revolver."

"What the fuck," Kellman muttered. "You can fucking make hurricanes? Who the hell are you?!"

"I told you," Elliot said. "I'm a Major in the BDF."

"There's more to it," Bauer said with a frown, leaning forward slightly and narrowing his eyes at Elliot. "You used spells, summoned a magical sword, but don't have any runes. What are you?"

"Where I'm from?" Elliot said. "I'm my people's last hope. Here? Fucked if I know."

"I mean, what the fuck are you?" Bauer said again, sounding frustrated for the first time in the conversation.

Elliot smiled. "Albion. Avatar of."

Kellman snorted. "And what does that mean?"

"I am the vengeance of a nation," Elliot replied evenly. "All of Britain's latent magic, maybe even all of the world's if you want to be generous, it's all burning through me. When I want it to - or need it to - it becomes my weapon. The sword I use isn't just any old thing. It's Excalibur, blade of Arthur, now mine to bear against the Tyrant."

"That's…" Kellman said, shaking his head, but Elliot leaned forward, sudden purpose in his eyes.

"Now I have a question," he said.

"We're asking the questions," Kellman frowned.

"Yeah well, here's a big one," Elliot said quietly. "Your Celestia."

Cheerilee scowled. "She's not 'our' Celestia."

"This Celestia, then!" Elliot said, frustrated. "How powerful is she? More powerful than when she was Princess Celestia? I need to know!"

"Well, good luck," Kellman said sullenly. "No one's ever seen her in action and lived."

Elliot sat back in his seat, putting a hand over his eyes tiredly. "I see."

Bauer narrowed his eyes at him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm going to fight her," Elliot replied simply.

Kellman let out a short barking laugh. "What? You? On your own?"

"Yes," Elliot said, unironically. "Me. On my own, if I have to anyway. Someone has to."

"And what, praytell, makes you think she won't atomise you on the spot?" Kellman said, looking altogether amused by Elliot's words. "Fancy swords and internal magic don't make you the equal of an Alicorn."

"No, they don't, but that's not all I have," Elliot said. "Besides - my destiny is to face the Sun Tyrant in battle. I guess…"

He trailed off.

"What?" Cheerilee asked.

Elliot shrugged. "I guess no one ever specified which Sun Tyrant."

There was a long moment's pause.

"Everyone outside," Bauer said. "Mr. Elliot - Major Elliot. I'll ask you to wait here."

"Not like I've got a choice," Elliot shrugged.

With that, Bauer motioned and everyone exited, leaving Elliot alone with his thoughts.

'They probably think I'm crazy. Except Kraber of course - they might listen to him, or they might not. Doesn't matter either way.'

Depressingly, he could see no way any of this would help him return home. Despite their obvious technological advancement, they apparently had less knowledge of magic - or at least, human magic - than he did, and he was the first to admit that he didn't really know a damn thing other than it existed and that Hell Blazer was able to chuck fireballs around once in a while (as well as the spell he had used to send Elliot here in the first place). If these guys didn't know about these things... well.

"Either way," he said aloud to himself, "I've got to get out of here."

***

London, January 25th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Hell Blazer stood on a street corner, staring out at the ruined city. Behind him he could hear the whirring of helicopter blades as a medical evac copter lifted off into the air, Lyra Heartstrings - stabilised by specialist magic healers - was airlifted away.

The city of London had been under attack for nearly a week. Everyone and everypony fighting in the city had expected this attack to be the one that drove the BDF and Resistance to their knees, to wipe the city from the map. Despite the loss of some good ponies though (Goddammit Grit) they had managed to hold the city. There was talk of sending teams into the underground to flush out stragglers, and in general the fighting had been hard, but they had held.

They shouldn't have been able to.

"So," Errant Flight said from behind Hell Blazer. "Why did they leave?"

Hell Blazer sighed and turned to his friend. The Pegasus was in the red flight shirt of Red Squadron, the team he had led after the annihilation of Grey Squadron. The Squadron had arrived a short while ago, the lack of Guards in the area leaving them surprisingly unhindered. Most of them were somewhere else now, coordinating with other troops.

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"Could it have been David?" Errant asked, raising an eyebrow. "Could he have done something that made them retreat?"

"Could've been," Hell Blazer nodded, turning back to the city and looking up at the broken skyline. "But we don't know whether he succeeded in doing anything, or whether he just scared her into pulling her troops back. He could have killed her… or he could have been wiped the fuck out."

"Which do you think happened?" Errant asked.

Hell Blazer didn't reply, frowning slightly. "Dunno. I get the feeling there's something more to it than we realise."

Errant moved to stand next to him, eyes full of skepticism.

"Yeah, I know, sounds poncy," Hell Blazer added, grinning slightly. His grin faded. "But I just think there's more to it than we know. Like… I dunno."

"I don't get it," Errant admitted, "but there's a lot about this human magic business that always confused me." He sighed. "What do you reckon happens now?"

"Sod me if I know," Hell Blazer smirked. "That's up to Anderson, Blueblood and Sato. Here's hoping they don't make a pigs ear out of this opportunity."

Both of them knew exactly how that would go.

***

PHL/UN Taskforce Forward Base. Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

12 hours and 42 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee.

"So," Kellman said, glancing at the clipboard in his hands, "we're pretty much all agreed that this guy is a loon, right?"

The group exchanged glances. Stephan looked thoughtful, a hand stroking his chin. Cheerilee looked thoughtful as well, though she had taken to pacing slightly. The only reason she had come here - travelling via Doctor Whooves' TARDIS - was the report of the magically-augmented human. The Doctor had been almost insistent, which she had thought was odd. She resolved to ask him about it when next she saw him.

"I mean," the Lieutenant added, "nothing he says makes sense. Internalised magic? We've never heard of anything like that. It's ridiculous."

"This entire war is ridiculous on paper," Stephan said wryly, looking up at the man. "But it still happened. I think we should consider the possibility of him telling the truth."

"I believe him," Aegis said, surprising everyone. The big pony talked even less than Big Macintosh from Ponyville, so to hear him this insistent came as something of a shock.

"Why are you two here?" Kellman sighed irritably.

"Cause I know a version of Elliot," Kraber said. The appearance of his old pub buddy had evidently sobered him up quick - he'd been in an incredibly angry mood, working off a bad hangover. "And Aegis is a bit of a calming influence. And I did bring him in..."

"Fair enough," Stephan said, waving a hand. "So. Why do you-"

Kraber cocked his head, body language marking him as standing with Aegis.

"-two believe him?"

"Sure. What he says is ridiculous," Aegis said. "But Stephan's right. The war's ridiculous… and think about just one thing. We're all focused on asking what really happened, but we're not asking: 'Why would he say any of this?' I… I can't explain it, but I feel like-"

"It's too specific, too ridiculous for him to really be lying," Kraber said. "And what would the point of lying be here?"

"There's the question of some of his practices," Kellman said with a frown. He glanced at his clipboard. "According to First Lieutenant Winston, he has a collection of pony manes sewn into his jacket. Not a practice anyone wanting to be in our 'good books' would be honest about."

"Sir?" Kraber said, looking at Bauer. "All due respect."

"Bit late for that."

"I know. But… hear me out. At least this once. What's the point of a lie like this, right here and now? When I lied my way into the PHL, I pretended to be a Scottish bergie with no family or ID, hired myself as a merc for Yael Ze'ev, and lived in Aegis' house and read bedtime stories to his foals. I tried to make myself look unremarkable and believable," Kraber said. "...Unless you count that I cosplayed a character from Evolve, but that's beside the point. Till I got fokkin' woedend, anyway."

"Aren't you mad at him for that?" Kellman asked.

"Eh," Aegis shrugged. "He apologized, he didn't hurt anyone, and the foals loved him. And yet, our old pub-buddy from New York decides to summon magic out of nowhere in plain view, summon a magic sword, and show everyone how it's done. I'm pretty sure my friend here-" he pointed to Kraber. "-Had the better infiltration method."

"So he's a moron," Kellman said. "Still..."

"Moron or not - and I'd err on the side of 'not' - he has magic we didn't know existed," Cheerilee pointed out. "We need to approach this carefully."

"Agreed," Stephan said. "And we will."

"What's your order, sir?" Kellman asked.

"Keep him under observation," Stephan said. "He can stay in that room for now, I doubt he'll do anything too stupid."

"You can't honestly say you trust him," Kellman protested. "Sir."

"Not in the slightest," Stephan replied with a slight smile. "But there's too many questions and too many inconsistencies. An HLF man doesn't have magic. A PER man doesn't have pony manes, even as a disguise. No one we know has 'internalised magic'." He frowned. "We'll get him sent somewhere in due course as necessary, let someone with more time on their hands decide what to do with him."

"Ah… one question, though," Kraber said. "I actually know another version of this guy. We're pub buddies."

"...What?" Stephan asked.

"I could get the other version of him on the line," Kraber offered. "It'd be really funny, and we might learn a lot."

Stephan sighed. "Try it. God knows, it might clear something up. At the very least, it might break my headache."

***

13 hours and 11 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee.

"Howzit?" Kraber asked, stepping into the interrogation room, Aegis at his side. "I got a call, and it's for you."

Elliot just looked confused at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Just go with it," Aegis said, as Kraber passed Elliot the phone.

"...Kay?" Elliot asked, picking up the phone. "Who is this?"

"David Elliot," said the voice on the other end, somewhat unnerved. He sounded British as well, and-

Wait…

"But… that's my name too," Elliot said.

"Oh God," the other Elliot said. He sounded younger, and slightly hung over. Just as Elliot himself realized that he was talking to himself, the other him spoke again. "Viktor, what the hell is this, some kind of stupid bloody prank call?!"

"He claims to be you," Kraber said, momentarily picking up the phone and turning it to speaker. "Looks just like you too, 'cept a bit older and - if the reports I got were right - carrying a big fokkin' sword..."

"Bloody Mildred Kraber," the... the other Elliot... said angrily. "I am not in the sodding mood for this." He paused. "Did fuckin' Constantine put you up to this? Again?!"

"Nope," Kraber said, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, we were planning to do this next week anyway. I was told I'm supposed to laugh at my nightmares, anyway. Make them easier to deal with."

"No, 'course not, 'cos this crap smells like an Errant Flight job..." the younger Elliot growled. "I'm gonna kill that little flying shitbag… Also, why the hell do your nightmares have that?"

"It'd take too long to explain," Aegis said. "Like, fifteen chapters. Maybe sixteen."

Kraber sighed. "Hang on a minute."

He frowned, and pressed a few buttons on his phone. He held the thing up and there was a small click of a camera phone. Kraber pressed a few more buttons, and then the next thing Elliot knew, the other him was swearing.

"Fucking hell," the man said quietly. "I look fucking terrible."

Elliot couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, mate!"

"Shut the hell up," the other Elliot said conversationally. "Viktor, what in the name of all that's good and holy in the world is going on?"

"When I know, I'll tell ya," Kraber said grimly. "Personally, my bet is on 'other universe'. Gotta go. Technically shouldn't be on the phone, it's a fokkin' warzone here."

"Right," the other Elliot said. "I'm going to sleep - maybe if I'm lucky this is all a fucking dream."

"Sorry, chommie," Kraber sighed. "I've been hoping for that for years, and my dreams are kak anyway. We're not that lucky."

"Damn, you too, huh?" the other Elliot asked, and hung up.

The call disconnected and Kraber put his phone away. He sighed.

"What the hell," Elliot murmured.

"I just called David Elliot," Kraber said. "...Our world's David Elliot."

"And what did that even prove?" Elliot asked.

"Mostly, it was funny," Kraber said with a grin. "But on a more serious note - it proves that you're definitely from another world."

"Whoop de doo," Elliot said, smirking. "Question is, is that gonna get me out of here any time soon?"

Kraber's grin faded. "I... dunno. Sorry. Unless there's an emergency."

Elliot sighed and sat back. "Yay "

"Look on the bright side. You'll probably get out if things get really heavy," Aegis suggested.

"Things are heavy where I come from," Elliot said sourly. "I left my friends to die. I left them because I was going to Equestria to fight Astra Solamina and kill her. That was the plan. Every second I'm here, people who are counting on me are dying. They'll probably try and make another Avatar, and God only knows how that'll go..." His voice trailed off, with the clear implication that he wasn't positive about the possible result, and slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit all!"

"Don't worry too much," Aegis said.

"Why?!" Elliot asked. "I don't know what's happening, I'm in another damn timeline, I-"

"I think he was actually going to suggest that you stay calm, because he doesn't want you to panic and be unable to function," Kraber interrupted.

"Yeah," Aegis said. "That, and Elliot? You're with the PHL!" he reared up and waved out his forehooves, creating an impression of vastness.

"I can see that," Elliot said drily.

"Major Bauer once said it'd be harder to bottle a waterfall than to stop PHL R&D's creativity," Aegis said. "There's a good chance they can work to make something to get to your friends. And while you wait around, we could lend you some weaponry to take back."

"One man's worth of guns won't be enough," Elliot sighed, "and that's assuming I can get back."

"I wonder if we could ask the Doctor for help…" Kraber mused. Though privately, he doubted what Elliot said. He did have that huge arms cache on the 501 (which, if he had any luck, was probably in New York or Pennsylvania) with the bola rifles, Kalashnikovs, Rainmaker grenades, and Thunderclap, the one that he shared with Johnny C, Fiddlesticks, and Hauser.

"The Doctor?" Elliot repeated. He frowned, thinking of the old pony he knew now. "What does he look like right now? He hasn't regenerated yet, has he?"

"He actually looks kind of like David Tennant," Aegis said.

Elliot frowned. "So... not an older pony, wandering around with leather coat and bandolier?"

"Nope," Aegis sighed. "Sounds like the War Doctor, though."

Elliot thought back to the moment the Doctor had changed. "He said 'Doctor, no more - for Ditzy.'"

"Well fok," Kraber said. "Now I know it's gotten heavy over there."

Elliot covered his eyes with his hand, suddenly feeling very drained.

"Grit and Ditzy, Lyra and Hell Blazer and Sam," he murmured to himself, though loud enough to be heard. "One hundred forty million. Now fourteen. Not enough, never enough. How many more damn friends do I have to lose?"

"I know the feeling," Kraber said, suddenly looking older, a hand on Elliot's shoulder. "I've lost too many good friends in the past few years. Least my old da's still around."

"Remember that time the PER tried to threaten him?" Aegis asked, smiling.

"Ah, Paul Kraber, never change, you old sonovabitch," Kraber smiled affectionately. "It was a good thing he considers Vektor CR21s to be kitchen utensils, or it might have been really terrible."

"For you?" Elliot asked.

"No, the PER," Kraber said. "Well into his fifties, and the man's still a better knife-thrower than me."

Elliot smiled slightly. "It's nice to see some things are still worth smiling about."

"Bright Wonder told me to hang on to that sort of thing," Aegis said. "Otherwise, you get consumed."

"It's working for me too," Kraber said. "Haven't been a happy man in a while. This way, I'm at least content."

Elliot's smile faded as his two new friends spoke. He could feel something... odd. Like a tingling in the air, making it feel almost electrified.

"You alright?" Aegis asked, looking at him with a slight frown.

"Yeah," Elliot replied softly, frowning in concentration, "but... there's a thing."

Aegis cocked his head. "Hmmm?"

"Magic thing," Elliot clarified, still frowning. "'Great disturbance in the Force' thing."

"Well, the voices of newfoals sure as fok aren't silenced," Kraber said. "The people they were… they're still in there. And they don't stop screaming."

Elliot glanced up at him. "Preaching to the choir - I've been in one of those bastards' heads."

"I have too," Kraber said. "Least I ended up exploding it."

Elliot tried to smirk, but the smile wouldn't come. The feeling was strong...

Suddenly, Bauer burst in alongside Kellman, both looking panicked and harried.

"Kraber, Aegis," the Major said. "Get to your posts, now."

"What is it?" Aegis asked.

"Massive portal event - something's coming," he replied with a scowl. "I intend to be ready for it."

"I'm coming with you," Elliot said, standing up.

Bauer raised an eyebrow at him, folding his arms and saying nothing.

Elliot sighed. "Major - I realise I'm an unknown quantity, and that makes you suspicious as all hell. It's what any good officer would be in your shoes, and Lord knows I'd be suspicious if someone like you appeared in my world. But I can feel something - something big… and believe me, I think you need all the help you can get."

"I'll vouch for him, Sir," Kraber said. "Dock me for a promotion. Demote me if need be. But I trust him."

"You and me both," Aegis agreed. "Sir."

"Sir," Kellman began, looking less than happy about this idea.

"You're not Bundeswehr, this is between me, Aegis, and the Major," Kraber cut the man off.

"Please," Elliot added. "I don't know what's out there, but it's big."

Bauer looked thoughtful for a moment, before sighing.

"Alright," he said. "If this goes fucking pear-shaped and it's your fault, Kraber, you're answering for it."

“Thanks for that distinction,” Aegis said.

Major Bauer raised an eyebrow.

“Well, of course it'll go pear-shaped,” Aegis explained. “Only question is how.”

***

Elliot's weapons - including, to his relief, 'speed-killer', his favourite dagger - were returned to him in short order. While he looked hopelessly under-equipped next to the soldiers he was with, he didn't feel it. There was a tingle on the air, almost like the fallout of a bomb before the bomb landed... something big was coming, and he felt... ready. Like it was destiny.

There was a massive assortment of troops surrounding him, all armed to the teeth, guns of every type at their disposal. Again, he was struck by just how well equipped everyone was.

‘Give the Dead Men this they'd throw a fit and probably call it a new Life Day,’ he mused with a wry grin.

Bauer was muttering orders to various troops, who were moving off into covering positions inside buildings.

"Any sign of what it is?" someone asked quietly from near him.

"We don't even know what we're looking for," whispered one Polish man with a rifle that looked like an ACR.

"I think we'll know it when we see it, Petrikov," said a German with an immaculate G36.

"Whoa," said a blue pegasus pony with a mark of an oversaturated raincloud. "I got an update. From King William. It says he can see -"

"SOLDIERS OF THIS HISTORIC CITY! STAY YOUR WEAPONS! WE HAVE COME BEARING NEWS OF YOUR MISSING MILITARY COMMANDER!"

"...Princess Luna," said the pony, eyes widening at the sudden cry. There was a pause. "Discord's with her."

"I've some questions to ask, then, Tempest," Kraber said, almost zen, his grip on his gun tightening.

Elliot frowned, closing his eyes slightly.

"That must have been it," Aegis said. "That tingle of yours. Here's hoping this is good news."

The British man opened his eyes, scowling. "It wasn't her."

"... pardon?"

"The feeling I had - it wasn't her, and it wasn't Discord - whatever the fuck a Discord is," Elliot clarified.

"Say what?" one soldier asked. "The fuck are you, a Jedi?"

"He's the guy with the magic sword who cut through a hundred Newfoals earlier," Kraber said. "Magic Jedi voodoo is kinda his thing."

"And there's more out there than one Alicorn Princess," Elliot added with a frown.

"...This could be very bad," said the Polish man with the MSBS.

Elliot held out a hand, and suddenly Excalibur, ornate and glimmering, was there, glowing with a cold light, causing several people to stare at the weapon with a mixture of awe and confusion.

"Yes," Elliot said. "It could be."

"What are you sensing?" Bauer asked, frowning at him. It was a marvel they'd accepted it so well, but Elliot had the feeling that these people had simply grown used to the absurdity of their world.

"I don't know," Elliot said, "but it's big - and it isn't either of your current guests."

"Can you tell if there's any ill-intent?" the other Major asked.

Elliot glanced at him. "I don't know what Luna is doing in your world, but in mine, she's dead. Her being here now is... wrong."

"Doesn't answer my question," Bauer pointed out.

"Of course it doesn't," Elliot replied with a slight smirk. "I'm not a Jedi, I'm just able to sense their magic. They could be feeling homicidal, stoned, horny..."

"Bad mental image," Kraber muttered.

"... and it'd make no difference to me," the British man finished.

Stephan looked thoughtful. "Right then, Major Elliot. I guess you'll be coming with me."

"... what?"

"We have an Alicorn Princess to greet," Stephan said with a humourless smile. It looked more like a grimace. Like he was only making it because he didn't know what else to do. "And I don't want to keep royalty waiting."

"If I might make a suggestion, Majors?" Aegis asked. "Be careful."

"I'll be fine," Stephan said, his smile becoming slightly warmer. "I've an Ace up my sleeve."

With that, the masked and armed for of Trixie Lulamoon. The Blue Spy, flickered into view next to him. She winked at the assembled group, and Elliot frowned at the sheer incongruity of it all. Trixie Lulamoon? The bloody caravan pony-smuggler?

‘Constants and variables,’ he thought.

"No, I mean don't go postal, Sir." Aegis said as Trixie disappeared. "We don't know what this is or why she's here."

"Understood," Stephan said. "Everyone? Prepare for battle."

"Right," Kraber saluted, rushing into a nearby building to find cover for a new machinegun nest.

Elliot sighed, keeping his grip on Excalibur tight. "Ready when you are, Major Bauer."

"Right then, Major Elliot," Stephan replied, gesturing to Trixie, who vanished again. "Shall we?"

And with that, he set off, Elliot - and, presumably, Trixie - following.

This would be... interesting.

***

Ruling Council Chambers, Scotland, January 28th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

In a room somewhere in Scotland, two humans, one Unicorn stallion and an Earth Pony mare sat listening to another pony, a Unicorn mare, speak. One of the humans was a Japanese man in a smart, if slightly ratty from age, suit. Another was a hard-looking military man with cropped dark hair and a beard. The stallion was alabaster, with blonde hair and purple and black armour on. The Earth Pony mare was maroon, with a cutie mark of three smiling flowers and a tired, if still cheerful, expression. The final pony had blonde hair and hard eyes, and wore a smart suit-jacket, as though she were overcompensating for her position being less than what she wanted.

"The reports aren't one hundred percent confirmed across the board," this mare - Dinky Doo, Prince Blueblood's adjutant - said to the assembled Council Members. "We can't confirm complete retreat of Solaminan forces from all fronts. What we can confirm is that London and Plymouth both report a total absence of Solaminan forces. They've retreated from their two biggest fronts."

"Why?" the military man - General Paul Anderson, the designated commander of the BDF - said with a scowl, his voice filled with a noticeable Australian twang. "Why would they pull back from London? Or Plymouth? We were tied up at Plymouth right proper and they knew it, and London was their proverbial hammer blow. Even losing Shining Armour and Pinkie Pie shouldn't've taken the wind outta their sails that easily."

"The reports say that Hell Blazer, acting on authority from Major David Elliot, sent Elliot through a portal, ostensibly to Equestria, with the intention that he would assassinate Solamina," Dinky noted, speaking smartly and efficiently. She had been in this job a long time, and she was very good at it. "It's possible something came of that."

"There is more to this than we know," the civilian representative, Mr Hiroto Sato, said quietly. "We cannot count on Elliot's success without proof. That would be most unwise if we should be proven wrong."

"We have a monitor on all Resistance radio transmissions coming from the Empire," Dinky reported. "If anything reaches their ears, we'll know soon after. From what I can tell, they've been as confused as us"

"Which leaves us the question of what we do in the meantime," Prince Blueblood, official head of the Equestrian government in exile, sighed. "Without Elliot, we just lost our primary hard hitter on the 'magic weapons' scale."

"We lost our only hard hitter," Cheerilee, the Equestrian Resistance civilian representative, sighed. She wasn't technically part of the Council (having relinquished her post to Blueblood upon his defection and agreement), but her voice held a lot of influence. "I'm not demeaning anyone's work, but Elliot was a class of his own."

"There's something to take from all this," Anderson said quietly, a slight smile on his face. "We just got given a reprieve. Now might be the time to dust off some old blueprints."

Sato and Blueblood both looked at Anderson with slight frowns on their faces.

"What did you have in mind?" Blueblood asked.

Cheerilee frowned, knowing more of what Anderson meant than Blueblood. "You don't mean the..."

"You just said it yourself," the Australian said. "We lost our only hard hitter. The only one. That's ridiculous. We're short, but..."

"But the Iron Clads were never proven effective for the resource cost," Cheerilee countered.

"Then we make them effective for the resource cost," Anderson countered. "I'm sick of relying on one man. Sick of being careful.”

Sato gaped as Anderson continued.

“Careful might have kept us surviving, but it’s sure as hell not going to keep us afloat forever. Careful got us here - no Albion, no backup plan. And if he's gone for good, careful will get us reduced to throwing rocks. Well, to hell with careful - if this is the end of the human race, let's do something awesome before we go!"

Sato raised an eyebrow, somewhat nonplussed by this. Cheerilee and Blueblood exchanged glances.

"Well," the Prince finally said. "I guess we can't argue with that." He frowned. "What's an 'Iron Clad'?"

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth
14+ hours since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

"I beg of your ears to hear our pleas, we know of your suspicion of our arrival, but we truly mean no harm!"

Elliot watched as Bauer and Trixie had a hushed conversation. For the moment, the British man was content to have his hand cannon out, Excalibur returned to... wherever he got it from. Hell Blazer had never been overly clear on that.

Bauer was certainly taking no chances. He had sent his troops to various covering positions around the area, presumably so they could open fire on the two figures on command. They were currently a few storeys up, looking at their targets from the window.

Luna looked exactly like he had heard her described by ponies before: blue, regal and yet smaller than Celestia. He had only seen her on television a couple of times.

Discord... well, he couldn't help but think 'what the fuck is that thing' when he saw him, but he restrained himself.

"Right," Bauer said, walking up to him: Trixie had disappeared, but Elliot wasn't concerned: Lulamoon was on their side: the same could not be safely said of Luna and Discord.

"What's the plan?" Elliot asked.

"We're going to meet them," Bauer replied gravely.

"You think that's wise?" Elliot asked.

“Sir?” Kraber's voice crackled in Bauer's earpiece. “Permission to speak?”

“Permission granted.”

“This is a terrible fokking idea.”

"There's far more to this than meets the eye," Bauer said tiredly. "They'd have already attacked if they were going to."

“Uh huh,” Elliot said. “And you know that how?”

“We've heard a lot about Discord - far as we know, he could have levelled the whole place if he felt like it,” Bauer explained. “But he hasn't, has he? Neither's Luna. Ergo, there's more to this than meets the eye.”

"If you say so," Elliot murmured. "Far be it from me to disagree, but regardless of how dense your Convies seem to be, these things aren't Convies. They'll know there's more than one way to skin a cat. This could be a trap."

"If they want to skin me, then good luck to them," Bauer said with a tired smile. "Command's ready to drop missiles on my transponder the minute they need to."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "That's... convenient."

"Not something you're used to?" Bauer asked.

"It's hard enough making bullets for guns without making rockets, plus I'm pretty sure we can't get access to most of the satellites anymore," Elliot said with a wry grin. "We make do."

Bauer smirked. "Come on, if you can keep up."

And with that, he leapt out of the window. Elliot raised an eyebrow.

"Alright then," he said, closing his eyes. A moment later, there was a rush of golden energy and he was stood near a destroyed car, the Major stepping off of the ruined vehicle, having landed on it. He threw Elliot a look.

"Magic," Elliot grinned.

"No shit," an irate female voice growled from near him. He frowned, looking around: there was no sign of… well, anything.

“Huh,” he said. “Neat trick.”

"Like I said," Bauer grinned. "Ace in the hole. Come on."

He walked onward, hands on his rifle and a machete at one side of him.

"If you wanna get that big sword of yours out, now's the time," Bauer said quietly to Elliot.

Elliot shrugged, before holstering his hand cannon and bringing out his shotgun. "Save the big guns for the big show. Don't wanna bring my hand out just yet."

"Suit yourself," Bauer said.

A few moments later, they had reached the two figures. Elliot folded his arms, raising an eyebrow at the two.

The Alicorn looked at the armoured man first, smiling slightly.

"You are... Major Stephan Bauer," she said to him. She glanced at Elliot. "And this is... one of your men?"

"And how would you know that, Miss...?" Bauer said, his expression not changing. Elliot didn't bother correcting the Alicorn, taking his cue from the German officer. The Discord thing (seriously, why when he had heard the name had nopony ever thought to mention how ugly the thing was?) was looking at him, but he ignored it. If the thing could sense something off about him, Elliot was content to let him wonder.

"Because Commander Marcus Renee told me himself," the Alicorn replied with a beaming smile, "He was quite joyful in his explanation of your person."

Faster than Luna could react, Bauer pulled out his machete, which transformed into a magical Claymore. As he pulled it out, it sliced through another car, carved through the door just before it rested under Luna's throat. She only blinked a few times before she actually realised just how fast it had all happened. Elliot raised an eyebrow, impressed by the speed of the draw and the precision of the swing. He could probably have pulled it off himself, but likely only if he was using Excalibur, with all the magical enhancement that entailed.

"Wha - what is the meaning of this?!" Luna gasped, stilling herself, watching the car door fall off with glowing bits of heated metal dripping off it.

'Well - damn,' Elliot thought, staring at the destroyed door. 'Thing's a bloody lightsaber.'

He never seen a sword like the one Bauer was holding. He was fairly sure it was just a regular machete with some magical properties to strengthen it, rather than completely changing its entire structure. It appeared to be based (from what little he'd learned of swords - mostly from over-eager Knights of Albion) along the lines of being a German forged two handed sword, just a tad bigger than the norm. It probably weighed a lot less as well, given that most of the sword was magical in nature.

"Funny," Bauer said with a voice that froze its tone for the Princess. "That's what I just wanted to ask."

He adjusted his sword a bit, and some of her hair seem to burn off.

Elliot watched with some concern as Luna raised a brow, looking the armoured man up and down, then glancing to the strange creature - ‘Discord, Dave, the name is Discord’ - for assistance in the rapidly deteriorating situation. Elliot frowned and shifted his stance, ready to bring his own weapon up in an instant, as he watched this Discord-creature roll his eyes and raise his claw… only for several blades to appear around his head, chest, and groin area.

A moment later, Trixie slowly melted into view, a look of annoyance on her face as Discord ignored the blades in favour of looking directly at her.

"Well…" the Draconequus said. "Was wondering when you'd drop the invisible act."

Trixie blew a few strands of her mane out of her face. "Well, how about a new act? Let's call it… how many blades does it take to make Discord tell us what we want to know?"

"Hmmm, kinky," Discord mused out loud. "But I can make these toys change on a whim, you know. Sad but true."

"And I have several teams ready to put a bullet in your skull several times over," Bauer growled as he held the blade closer to Luna's neck. "And if that doesn't work, a good amount of heavy ordnance can take care of the rest. I doubt you can survive such a thing, supposed god or not."

"He sounds serious," Elliot commented drily. "I'd do as he asks."

Discord only looked amused. "Well, then, lets see what you got."

Stephan brought up his free hand firmly, watching Discord follow with his eyes and waved his hand once. Luna flinched at Discord's howl of surprise and pain, before the roar of a weapon firing reached her ears. Discord blinked several times before reaching up and clutching the remaining of his blue horn, the missing piece tumbling to the ground and rolling away out of his sight.

"Right, you win." Discord raised his arms, his claws falling off his paws and scurrying underneath a parked car, causing Luna to look at him, almost in disappointment. "What? It hurt and that means they have runic magic on those bullets. I rather remain whole, thank you very much."

Elliot chuckled.

Stephan returned his attention back at Luna. "You still didn't introduce yourself. You seem to know about me, but yet, you haven't said anything about yourself or…" He threw a look at Discord. "Your companion."

“Well you didn’t introduce Captain Shabby there,” Discord pointed out, pointing at Elliot. Elliot smirked.

“Elliot,” he said simply. “David Elliot. I’m with him.”

"My name is Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria, Caretaker of the Moon and Night skies," Luna said, ignoring Discord’s interruption. She slowly moved a hoof to the Draconequus, who was still looking at his horn with loss. "And this is Discord, God of Chaos and Disharmony, Lord of Chance and Change."

"Wrong," Discord piped up, causing Luna to falter. Elliot sniggered.

‘Like watching a bloody double act,’ he thought to himself.

"What?" Luna asked the Draconequus, nonplussed.

"I said you are wrong." Discord repeated, ignoring the blades, snipers, and machine-gunners focused on him. "Disharmony was something you and Celestia labeled me."

"Really, now? You found that this was the moment to go to that?" Luna asked, raising an eyebrow. "What about the other names?!"

"I approve of them."

Bauer cleared his throat, patience wearing thin. "That's nice and all, but can we now focus on if I and my men have to kill you or not? We've had a long five years, we're not exactly in a trusting mood here." He looked at Luna, then at Discord and back. "Okay, how about… You tell me what happened to Marcus. And I mean all of it. Don't leave out any details, or I get a lot less patient and understanding."

"Ah, of course we should..." Luna trailed off, her eyes slowly widening, a frown slowly deepening in her face. "Oh no."

She suddenly stared to the south, eyes focused on something only she could see. Discord was looking in the same direction, his face angry, but his eyes full of fear.

Elliot's eyes widened too as the feeling he had been having for several minutes - the sense of something powerful coming - suddenly crystallised.

"That's…" he whispered. "Oh crap."

"...Okay, I bite. What is going on now?" Bauer asked, frowning at them all.

"Major, and… whoever you are... it is imperative that your men leave this area," Luna whispered, completely ignoring the blade as she stepped away, her wings flaring open.

Bauer lowered his blade, frowning slightly. "I'm not going to leave until you tell me why you are here and where the fuck is Renee is!"

"There is no time, leave!" Luna yelled, this time in a voice so loud that Stephan felt like he'd been blown back.

"Why? What in the hell is going on?" Bauer yelled, his patience clearly at an end.

"Her," Elliot said, speaking before Luna could, the man already putting his shotgun away. He had a look of cold resignation on his face. "She's coming."

Bauer's eyes shot wide open. "You mean -"

And then a voice on his radio started screaming. "Major! Fall back! I repeat fall back! Confirmation of the Tyrant -"

Behind Discord and Luna, an explosive force of air rippled the atmosphere. The surviving glass windows of the various buildings shattered instantly, and the shockwave weakened several buildings' walls. Vehicles closest to the central point of the magical disturbance were lifted and thrown into the buildings like toys.

Elliot didn't see what happened to Bauer and Trixie, too wrapped up in his own survival - he was blasted backward from where he had been standing, his shotgun flying off of him and even his hand cannon being lost in the confusion. His daggers stayed sheathed, but he could already tell they would be useless. This was not a fight he could win with any ordinary weapon, and judging from the power he was sensing, it was not a fight he would be able to win with anything fancier either.

He allowed the magic to fill him, surrounding his body and slowing his descent to a vicious roll that cracked ribs. He grimaced, before using the magic to heal himself, feeling a wave of relief as the pain subsided. He had been blasted a clean thirty or more metres from where Luna and Discord had been, and he looked up to see what had happened.

Incredibly, they were both still there. Luna had a vicious scowl on her face, mane flowing behind her, which made her defensive stance seem all the more threatening. Discord had a look of annoyance, claws popping back upon his paws and his shattered horn growing back. Various trinkets appeared on his body, an unusual bracer appearing on his arm, an amulet the other, a trio of chibi looking dolls hanging around his neck, and finally a large scroll on his back.

"Talk about gameface," Elliot muttered, rolling his shoulders back slightly as he watched the arrival of… her.

He had never seen Solamina in the flesh, for which he was extremely thankful. Still, if he ever did, he expected her to have the same level of power, the same aura of absolute confidence and surety of purpose. It was definitely intimidating.

He watched as the Tyrant stepped out, the Elements of Harmony right behind her. There was a smile on her face as she took note of the several humans in the area, before speaking, her voice quiet and calm.

"Hello Luna, Discord. Come to join my Perfect Harmony? Or do I have to destroy you both?"

Author's Note

IIIIIIIIIIT'S....
UPDORT TIME, HUMPADUMPS!

A Sword Day, A Red Day

Chapter Three: A Sword Day, A Red Day.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
TheIdiot.

Editors
redskin122004,
The Void,
RoyalPsycho
ProudToBe (Special thanks for changing up Stephan's dialogue.)

This chapter also contains direct segments used in the chapters Strike and For Whom The Bell Tolls, from The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum.

***

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
Frank Herbert, Dune.

"Arise! Arise, riders of Theoden! Spears shall be shaken! Shields shall be splintered! A sword day! A red day! Ere the Sun rises!"
Theoden, King of Rohan, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.

***

Scottish Archives, January 30th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Rupert Giles took his glasses off and cleaned them, before rubbing his forehead with his hands, trying not to feel slightly overwhelmed. In front of him on a screen was General Anderson and Prince Blueblood of the Governing Council, both of them looking surprisingly pleased with themselves.

"You want me to what?" he asked again, trying to wrap his head around their request.

"The Iron Clad program," Anderson said, looking mildly irritated at having to repeat himself. "It's being reopened. I want you to see to it personally."

The Iron Clad program… he remembered that one. It was a theoretical program that had been commissioned in the early days of the war by the Council to create power-armoured, genetically, hormonally and magically enhanced super-soldiers - this had been shortly after the reveal of Earth magic, and the government wanted to explore all the defensive options available. Though the Archive research groups involved had managed to reach the prototype stage in terms of some of the technology they had to hand, they had never progressed further with it.

"I don't understand," Giles said, frowning. "The Iron Clad program only produced three prototype Paladin armours, and we never began the augmentation procedures on any subjects. We don't even know if it will work!"

"Then you'll just have to make it work, Mr Giles," Anderson said.

"In addition to that," Prince Blueblood added, looking deadly serious, "we want more aggressive research into other offensive and defensive capabilities we can muster and employ. Anything we can get, am I clear?"

By that, Giles knew they meant all the various things the Archives could muster. Magical assaults, experimental weaponry (a lot of which would not be workable for anyone but the Iron Clads), the GG3…

"This is going to take considerably more resources than I have previously been allocated," he pointed out, taking his glasses off and cleaning them.

"We understand that," Anderson said. "But we've been given a unique opportunity. This lull might not last forever, but for however long it lasts, I want us to be building anything we can to combat Solamina's armies when they come back."

Ah yes, the "lull" - the common word going around describing the pulling back of every Solaminan army unit in Britain. Giles didn't know what to make of it, but he knew he didn't like it. There was something behind it, something… more.

"You'll have all the resources you require," Blueblood added. "We're raiding the emergency stockpiles on this one - we want to give Solamina a nasty surprise when she comes back."

"I'll do what I can," Giles said, sighing. "I should have preliminary reports within the next two weeks."

"Good," Anderson said. "We're relying on you, Giles. Your team just became the top R&D department in Britain for weapons."

"Hooray," Giles said idly. "No pressure."

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

There was a pause - the briefest of things - before hell was unleashed. Elliot had been in battles with hundreds of soldiers under his command. He had fought through streets, had held lines, and had been in London at the height of the battle. In all that time, he had only rarely been so deafened as he was now by gunfire. It sounded like the crack of thunder going off in his ear, a thousand times over. He was fortunate to be able to find cover from the deluge.

And the Tyrant… just weathered everything.

She stood, an impassive expression on her face as this firestorm rained down on her. All around her was a golden shield of magic, spherical and impervious to anything hitting it. Bauer and Trixie had been blown backwards and Discord and Luna had vanished.

He knew very well that this was not his Tyrant - this was Celestia: she had a different name, and a different history. The presence of the Elements with her was just another hint that this world and his were very different places. A small part of his mind said that this wasn't his fight, that he should leave this to those who knew this Tyrant better.

Bollocks to that, he thought. No idea how I got here, but I'm not here to cower like a baby.

He frowned as the hail of fire slowly wilted, the firing troops surrounding the area apparently realising that they'd just wasted their ammo. He stood up, looking around, before seeing his hand-cannon lying near him. He grinned, and quickly picked it up, checking it for damage.

He looked up, and raised an eyebrow. Bauer had charged the Tyrant from somewhere, the man's sword clanging on the shield as he struck again and again. He seemed to realise the predicament he was in, a half second before Celestia reacted: her horn glowed for a single spell, impacting against the armoured man's chest. Elliot was about to curse at the man's death… but then he blinked in surprise as the spell splashed harmlessly across Bauer's chest, not even a single twitch of the arms to indicate pain.

'Is that what Clad armour was supposed to be like?' he thought idly, considering the similarities from his abstract perspective. 'Pity we could never get the resources together to make it work…'

"Do not believe I am a one trick pony!" Celestia yelled, loud enough to be heard across the area. "Your smug attitude will be your downfall. Now, begone from my sight and lay on the ground like a good human!"

She flared her wings out and brought them down in one great maneuver, a gust of what must have been magically enhanced wind flew out, throwing Bauer backwards into a car. That done, Celestia looked around, speaking loudly enough to be heard.

"Now then, humans of this city, I come for two beings that believe to be my sworn enemy and younger sister. I wish to take them away before they give you false hope in this 'war'. Try to see it from my view. You wander in the dark, lashing out at anything that is different or befriend anyone that would hurt you."

'Hypocrite,' Elliot growled. He made sure the hand-cannon was loaded and cocked, and then he started walking toward her.

She didn't pay attention to him as she continued. "I only wish to help you help become better. To become more than what you have. To finally walk down the street without fear. I bring Harmony to you all. I only desire one thing… Your absolute trust in me to guide you to a better life."

As she spoke, Elliot reached a decent range and brought up his gun, before firing. Suddenly, the only sound in the entire area was the sound of the heavy-frame revolver firing. The Tyrant looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He grinned as he imagined what it must be like from her perspective - Bauer looked impressive, walking around in battle-armour like a - well, a knight. Elliot was well aware that he didn't look nearly that impressive. If anything, he looked more like he'd walked out of a pub brawl by comparison.

'All that is gold does not glitter,' he thought, grinning harder.

The final round lanced out, impacting uselessly on the shield. Elliot heard the click of the hammer landing on an empty chamber, and calmly holstered the handgun. The Tyrant paused, clearly uncertain how to react, and the Elements behind her were equally silent, apparently waiting for her cue.

"Hi," Elliot said quietly, waving at her with a slightly sheepish grin. "Sorry, needed to get your attention. Thought wasting ammo would work for sheer audacity, and to be fair it's not like they don't have better guns here anyway for me to replace this old thing with if I want."

The Tyrant laughed, a cold, cruel sound. "And who are you, little man?"

"I'm the Avatar of Albion," Elliot replied simply, subtly moving one hand out away from his body.

"And what does that ridiculous title mean?" Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It means I'm the vengeance of a nation," Elliot replied quietly. "I came here to kill somepony called Astra Solamina Maxima - but you know what? After everything I've heard about you, I've decided. You'll do just as well."

The Tyrant grinned, and then she laughed again, longer and harder.

"Oh, that is amusing," she said. Her horn glowed, and she dipped her head slightly. "It's almost a shame to kill you -"

Before she could finish, a bullet sheared through one of her ears, grazing past the Elements and making them jump. Elliot blinked, raising an eyebrow.

'Some jammy bastard just shot her ear off,' he thought, feeling oddly detached from the sheer impossibility of that happening in his experience - he didn't know of a gun that could do it where he was from. 'Ok. That's a thing now. I should probably adjust to that.'

Celestia's face turned red, raw anger filling her face at the impudence of the humans in daring to strike her.

Elliot took this as his cue. He closed his eyes, and the power came, just as Celestia's horn glowed.

***

"It ends," Celestia called out, feeling out the trail left behind by the bullet that had blasted her ear off. While Earth appeared to be all but non-magical, that was wrong. Magic was everywhere, even on this dirtied world. It was nowhere near the same amount as Equus, but it was still there. Not that she was going to tell the humans that, after all, it was the entire reason she kept them out of the barrier. Following a trail of nullified magic was as simple as following a dirt line for her. Her horn flared before launching a single devastating spell at the building that was the source of the bullet. "NOW!"

Her spell lashed out, and there was a golden flash - but it wasn't from her. Her powerful spell impacted something that had come between her and her target, said something being blown backward a good twenty metres through the air, before stopping in the sky, and floating gently to the ground.

It was the human - the one she hadn’t known, the raggedly dressed one… except he wasn’t so ragged now. He wore silver armour, ornate and styled like ancient knightly armour, quite unlike the ceramic armour that the Knight of Germania had worn. His hair was longer, blowing in the wind. In his left hand he held, quite balanced, a massive Zweihander sword, glimmering and ornate, the silver blade shining with a cold light. The chestplate of his armour was scored where her spell had impacted it, but other than that he seemed to have shrugged the blow off.

What was more impressive - not to mention annoying - was that he was radiating magic. It was of a kind unknown to her, and the feeling of not knowing was… mildly aggravating. Still, her rage dissipated as she suddenly felt a wave of amusement float over her.

'A human with magic is like a monkey with a typewriter. He's more likely to cover it in his own faeces than do anything useful with it.' She smirked. 'This should make an… amusing distraction.

He strode toward her, his expression oddly calm and full of purpose.

"Sun Tyrant!" he called out. "Prepare to meet thine end!"

Celestia grinned. 'Ah - ye olde Equestrian speak, or something like it. Makes me nostalgic for Luna.'

She fired off a spell at him designed to stop him in his tracks. To her surprise, though, he simply batted it away with his sword, the thing moving faster than it had any real right to. She fired a stronger spell, and with some apparent effort he blocked it. A third spell yielded the same results. She growled and flapped her wings, intending to blow him back, but he simply braced himself, held out a hand and withstood the gust, a soft golden bubble of magic protecting him.

'Alright, fine,' she thought. 'Maybe not wiping his faeces on the typewriter just yet. Clearly this one just needs a special touch.'

Now she was interested: she thought of this human as a treat, a fight that would provide her with more fun than a normal human was capable of. She gathered a spell, and fired at the ground in front of him, blasting debris into his face. He held up a hand to shield his face, only for her to throw another spell right at him, blasting him backward through a building.

'Better,' she thought. "Now," she added aloud. "Where was I?"

*Slap.*

She stepped backward, raising an eyebrow. large black sphere hovering in air, with a claw reaching out through it, a rolled up newspaper in claw. It had smacked her across the face, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to irritate.

"What is -" she began, but the claw whacked her again, this time with a little more force as it caused her to stagger somewhat away from the floating hole.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," a new voice said. "What are we going to do with you?"

Celestia looked up to see the grinning face of Discord, as the Draconequus looked down on her, floating above her head. His claw arm was resting behind his back and a knowing smile was on his face.

"I mean really," he continued. "Acting like a spoiled foal is really unbecoming of you. Especially because even that bratty little filly from Ponyville never committed genocide when things didn't go her way, although to be fair that was more because she couldn't. Case study for 'why you don't give little brats super-powerful magic', I guess."

"Discord," Celestia growled, narrowing her eyes at him. "You have the gall to compare me to a filly?"

"Crazy Whorse," he replied with a smirk. "I'll compare you to far worse things if you give me half a minute and a crayon."

Her eye twitched. 'Today exists only to irritate me…’

“Unfortunately, I only intend to give you death,” she said, as calmly as she could.

“Ah, and here I was hoping for a red bicycle,” he said with a faux-unhappy tone. Just then, a red bicycle landed amongst the Elements of Harmony, shocking them - Fluttershy jumped into the air with an ‘eep!’

Celestia’s eye twitched again. Just like the humans - It's so disorderly! No wonder Discord allied with them…why?! WHY CAN'T THEY ALL JUST OBEY AND LISTEN?!’

No. She had to keep calm… it was unbecoming for a princess - no, a Queen to have outbursts like that, even mentally. This… this was nothing.

Of course that wasn't going to last long.

***

Five minutes earlier, somewhere else.

Discord released Luna and looked down at the explosions as they all-but eradicated the area the two of them - and the Tyrant - had been standing in moments ago.

"Still want to take our chances in making them angry?" he asked the Diarch. She shook her head, eyes wide and transfixed by the destruction.

"No," she replied softly. "I believe they made their statement quite clear that they were in charge of our talks the entire time."

To Discord's consternation, if not exactly surprise, there was a sudden appearance of a golden shield of magic, protecting Queen Celestia and the Elements she had brought with her from the deluge of firepower. He raised an eyebrow. They had apparently weathered everything - more powerful than he had been hoping for, but that shouldn't have been surprising.

"Well now," he said, smiling. "Isn't that interesting? Today's becoming a day for surprises."

"What do you mean?" Luna asked, looking at him with a confused expression.

"I mean not only is there that rather intriguing case of the fellow with internalised magic under his admittedly plain exterior, the one that Marcus didn't mention," Discord said, "but there's definite traces of chaos magic within that shield. Faint, but definitely there."

"A… wait, chaos magic?" Luna said, torn between the first of his statements and the second.

Before they could continue the conversation, they saw an armoured human charge out, a blade in hand as he struck at the Tyrant's shield.

"Should we help? It would cement our image to the humans and their allies," Luna said, watching as the human hacked away at her shield with little progress.

"No, humans are a suspicious bunch. I should know, I ran into scores of them in my travels. They would hold us at an arm's length, with hundreds of gun barrels held in our faces until they were completely sure of our intentions. Us showing up with information on Marcus and the Tyrant innocently showing up a few minutes later…" Discord shook his head as the human was thrown back, tumbling into a vehicle at bone breaking speeds. "They would label us as threats, keep us away from anything important, and probably keep us restrained till it was too late. It's nice to assume that in wartime someone would trust us, but the humans are a paranoid lot."

"Then wh -" she began, but then the crack of a human weapon distracted her. She raised an eyebrow, as she saw the shabbily dressed human who had accompanied Bauer march across the ruined area, firing a large pistol at her shield to no effect. "What in the name of all that is sacred is he doing? He'll be obliterated!"

Discord narrowed his eyes at the man. "You know, somehow I don't think he will."

He watched as the two figures, the man and the Alicorn, exchanged words, before something - a human weapon - impacted the Tyrant's ear, shearing it off.

"Ouch," he murmured. Celestia was suitably irritated, her horn glowing as she prepared to obliterate the shooters…

And then it happened: there was an explosion of entirely unfamiliar magic, the kind that he had sensed before from the man, and suddenly there was an armoured warrior in place of the shabbily dressed man, a massive Zweihander in his grip. Despite how heavy the armour was, it moved like cloth on the man, not restricting him at all, and the sword - easily as long as him - seemed light as a feather in his grip.

"Oh," Discord said, grinning as he watched the warrior advance on Celestia, "now… that's definitely a thing."

"What is that?" Luna asked.

"No idea yet," Discord said with a grin. "Gimme five minutes, and watch for Twilight - take her down the minute she appears."

And suddenly, he vanished, only to reappear moments later.

"I thought you said five minutes," she pointed out.

"I did," he replied. "I'm only a clone. Real me's going to go do a thing."

"What 'thing'?"

"Just a thing," he shrugged. "Anyway, plan. Right now, we have so little information about the Tyrant and her plans that I actually think we’re into minus numbers on that…”

“Less of the hyperbole, thank you,” Luna said shortly.

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” the Discord clone grinned. “Anyway - I need you to go out on a teeny, tiny information stealing spree."

"Is this truly the time to be playing around?! Lives are at stake!" Luna yelled, watching the human below as he withstood another attack, only for the Discord clone to grip her by the jaw and force her to look at him.

"I'd truly love to be in a happy mood. I really would. I'd love to laugh as someone kicked one of the Elements so hard they went into slow motion, but it just… hasn't been the time for that, and something's up. The real me thinks it was too easy for the crazy queen to show up in person, in the middle of a city with dangerous weapons at the human's fingertips," Disclone muttered to her. "Anyway, when the time comes, track down Sparkle and rummage through her mind a bit. Don't be gentle- she doesn't deserve that mercy, and it's not like you'll be damaging anything that the Bag hasn't already."

"What do you mean?" Luna asked. "Twilight -”

"- is not in control at the moment," Disclone finished. "I have memories of being inside her mind. Trust me on this."

Luna sighed. "Fine. What is your plan now?"

"The boss just got an opening," Disclone said with a smirk. "Suffice to say, I think he's gonna use it."

***

Stephan had not been idle. He had no idea how Elliot had become an armoured warrior, but the man had taken the hit meant for his team in the building and Stephan wasn't going to waste this chance. He was already jogging out of what was about to become the centre of a blast zone, Trixie by his side.

"Alicia, Daniel, get out of the building now!" he yelled into his radio.

"Already moving," Alicia replied. "What the hell was the thing that stopped that blast? One of ours?"

"As if we know," Trixie muttered.

"It'd take too long to explain, talk later," Stephan said. "Right now, pull back as far as possible. We're gonna drop missiles on the Tyrant, see if she's still smirking then."

"Gotcha," she said.

Stephan switched his radio to HQ's channel. "HQ, it's Bauer. I need that strike - distance from my position is about… fifty, maybe fifty five metres due south and extending. Wait til I'm at least eighty clear then launch. Cruisers should do the trick."

"Roger that Major," a voice replied. "Estimate two minutes to impact from current position."

"That's not a lot of time," Trixie commented, frowning.

Stephan swore. He hoped that would be enough time for everyone. "Two minutes to impact, everybody move!"

"What about Elliot?" Trixie asked. "He - whatever the hell he is - is still back there!"

"He's on his own," Stephan said with a frown. He found himself hoping that Elliot - or the armoured figure he had become - could get clear. If he couldn't… well. It was a shame, he was a good man, but this was not the kind of war where you could hesitate for one good man.

"Good luck, du verrückter idiot," he said. "You're going to need it."

***

Celestia threw a glance over her shoulder. "Twilight. Leave."

The Element of Magic bowed, and a moment later she and her friends were running, dashing off down a side-alley and away from Celestia and Discord.

"You know, that might not be the best idea you've ever had," Discord said with a smirk. "And that's really saying something."

"Quiet," Celestia said, scowling at him. "It was a very poor decision on your part to come here, Discord. Did you believe I would not notice you coming to this world? Even you are not so stupid as to believe such a foal of me."

"Frankly, I don't care." Discord stated as he walked up to her shield, examining it with some interest. "I find your power play to be overrated at best. All this talk about perfection and what not is ill-suited to you. It's simply trading one annoying goddess for another, and to be honest… I like the old Celestia more."

"Says the being that enslaved the minds of thousand and caused anarchy across Equus," Celestia pointed out, narrowing her eyes at him.

Discord blew a raspberry at her, scoffing at her accusations.

"You believed your own hype about me? Huh, shouldn't be too surprised at that. Feeding yourself your own manure can't be healthy." Discord raised a single small hammer, a frown on his face. "I didn't enslave anything, I discorded a dozen or so ponies, and most of a village, but they were so… annoying! 'Ah! It's the monster! Ah! It's going to eat us! Ah! Eating all the cheese!' Bah! They went back to normal after I left, and there were ponies in Manehattan that didn't even notice! Besides, I wanted you off your throne and making you look incompetent would have served that purpose. Either way, I don't really care about that."

"Oh, and what do you want?" Celestia asked.

"To do this," he said, smacking the shield with his hammer and grinning. A moment later, cracks spread across the shield. "Not bad, eh? Might be an idea if you don't use my magic next time."

Celestia's eyes widened. "You little…"

"Tyrant!" a different voice yelled.

A moment later, a great, armoured, silver blur struck the shield, and the Avatar of Albion was back, growling as he smashed into the shield, breaking it apart with his sword.

Discord raised an eyebrow. "Not what I was expecting, but ok."

***

'Son of a taint,' First Lieutenant Winston thought, his 'magic' eye peering over towards the scene of what appeared to be the Solar Tyrant herself, fighting that Elliot character from before. The man was now clad in some kind of shiny knight get up, and he was fighting the Tyrant along with some kind of Frankenstein looking creature.

Now, the part cajun may not have been a genius in academic terms, however he had enough common sense to know that nothing in the PHL could have created something like what Elliot was doing now - the closest they had was Commander Renee's runes, or Bauer's Armor and fancy sword; that was it.

Whatever this Elliot is, he could not have been from around these parts, or even this planet planet - it just didn't match up with anything Winston knew about.

"Sir," a voice cut through his thoughts, Winston looking to see two of his unit members - Corporal Leonard Snart and Sharp Horn - approach him.

"Do you think we should go help?" Sharp Horn asked, her voice unsure considering the reports of two figures that should either be dead or stoned. "This may be the chance to take out the Solar Tyrant for good."

"That's not some good thinking," the First Lieutenant said plainly. "There's too much going on down there that we don't know, hell we'd probably get wasted before we get a single shot in."

"But -" Corporal Snart was going to interject, but he was interrupted.

"Why would the Tyrant come here?" Winston asked. "Why would she come here of all times? It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to do that - it's like Commander Renee jumping into a portal to her throne room without a second thought or a plan in mind; it'd just get him killed before he could even do his deed."

"Well, what are we supposed to do then?" Sharp Horn inquired.

"Best thing… hmmm," Winston began to contemplate until his radio crackled to life.

"The Elements of Harmony have been sighted! Repeat! The Elements of Harmony have been sighted! All units report in!"

"I think we have our answer," Winston observed, he then turned to his two subordinates "Get the others, we need to go hunting. Now."

Both Sharp Horn and Snart saluted before going off - the First Lieutenant refocusing on the fight in the distance while picking up his radio.

"Save Pinkie for me!" Kraber's voice crackled over the radio.

"Just don't go postal, Kraber…" Major Bauer said.

There was a brief pause. You could practically hear Kraber raising an eyebrow.

"He's not going to listen, is he?" Major Bauer sighed.

"Have you met me?" Kraber asked.

"Hey now Kraber, don't get the party without my team - I wanna have some… words with that Applejack horse," Winston said, his attention still on the battle between titans.

***

The Avatar of Albion was angry. Queen Celestia was dodging his attacks, though barely, looking at him with a face halfway between amusement and irritation.

"Thou craven, cowardly wretch!" he screamed at her, swinging Excalibur down in a particularly brutal arc and nearly slicing her face off. "Face me like a -"

A spell from Celestia smashed into his face, sending him somersaulting head over heels. Deftly, he used his hand to backflip and move back into an attack stance, but she dodged his charge, taking off into the air.

"She's not gonna sit still, you know!" Discord yelled at the Avatar, somewhere between annoyed at being interrupted and impressed by this human's tenacity. He had mostly been watching for the last few moments - this 'Avatar' was interesting. There was power, there was skill, but mostly he seemed to be relying on his sword.

"Good," the Avatar called back, "because nor will I!"

He bent his legs slightly, before launching into the sky, his blade swinging as he deflected another attack from the Queen, grunting in exertion.

“Huh,” Discord commented from the ground. “He can fly.”

"What in the name of Harmony are you?" Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow. "What is this magic of yours?"

"It is vengeance!" the Avatar yelled. "The vengeance of -"

"Oh, spare me," Celestia cut him off, sending another spell at him that bore him to the ground, where he smashed with a heavy crash. She looked up - only to be punched in the face by a bright red boxing glove that was floating in mid-air. Another launched a vicious cross at her jaw, and she pushed back through the air to dodge it.

"Still here," Discord said, waving a claw and grinning. He looked down at the Avatar, who had gotten to his feet with a scowl on his face. "Hey, knight boy, thanks for the distraction."

In response, the Avatar launched a spell upward, a massive bolt of golden energy that rammed into the Tyrant and threw her further up the in air - right through a giant target Discord had set up. Somewhere, a bell rang.

"And ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!" Discord said, suddenly standing next to the armoured man. "What'll your prize be, son?"

"The head of the Tyrant on a plate," the Avatar responded with a growl.

"Man. Downer," Discord muttered, though he took note of the projectile spell. If he used a few more like that, maybe we'd be getting somewhere - or if she’d stay still long enough for him to hit her.

The Avatar ignored the Draconequus, his eyes fixed on the sky.

"Come down, Tyrant!" he bellowed. "Face death with some honour, at least!"

A bolt of fiery light smashed into the ground near him, knocking him off his feet and blowing Discord away, though the Draconequus soon steadied himself. Celestia landed, her face a mask of cold fury.

"I think you pissed her off!" he commented to the Avatar. He snapped his claws and his body was suddenly surrounded by… rockets. Big red rockets, each marked with a message: "To my dear tyrannical Celly, love from Dissy. Hope this hurts."

"Hey Celly! Present for ya!" he yelled, snapping his claw again.

The rockets shot towards her, too many and too quickly for her to shoot them down, and they impacted with large, bright explosions. He knew it would do little but slow her down, but hopefully it would do something. He snapped his claw again, this time appearing near the Avatar, who had gotten to his feet again, scowling even more than before.

"Gotta say," the Draconequus said, "you're not doing so badly."

"This Tyrant," the man replied shortly, "is irritating."

"You should try having a debate with her, instead," Discord said blithely. "Watching her get all riled up is…"

A bolt of light smashed into the Avatar, throwing him backward through another building. Discord leaned slightly to see where he'd gone, and raised an eyebrow.

"… pretty funny," he finished. He looked back at Celestia. "Do you mind? I was having a conversation."

"I don't care," Celestia growled. "I will burn you - utterly obliterate you!"

"Really?" Discord asked. He sensed something, and grinned. "Bet you won't."

"Why, you little…" Celestia began, but then Discord vanished - right before several dozen missiles impacted, obliterating the area where Celestia was standing.

***

The Avatar groaned as he pulled himself from out of the rubble. The blast that had hit him had thrown him through several buildings, and wherever he was now, he couldn't see the Tyrant at all…

"Blasted Tyrant," he murmured. There were so many struggles he'd undergone in Britain. Hordes of Convies, PER infiltrators, just barely keeping the isles afloat… he had fought Crystal Golems and armies, Element bearers had fallen to his blade but this… this was something else. The Tyrant was relentless in her assault and no matter what he threw at her she returned it with even more fury than before. And that was before one took into account everything else…

'Am I good enough for this? he thought to himself. Am I strong enough to meet this challenge?'

He shook his head, clearing these thoughts from his mind and steeling his will for the fight.

'It does not matter what there is here. There could be fifty Tyrants, a thousand Avatars each stronger than me, and ten thousand guns with the power to slay them all, and it would make no difference to me. As long as there are enemies before me, my duty is clear. I will fight.'

He grabbed Excalibur and brought it into a guard stance, before closing his eyes, trying to sense where his enemy was.

A moment later, the barrage hit.

The shockwave of the missile impact threw him off balance slightly, but the Avatar had been blasted far enough away that it hadn't had much effect beyond that. Still, the sheer amount of ordnance was impressive.

He could still sense the Tyrant though. The missiles, mighty as they were, hadn't done a thing except anger her. He closed his eyes, following the sense of the magic. He found it a moment later.

"Right then," he said. "Let us see if she finds Excalibur so easy to shrug off."

***

The minute the corrupted Elements of Harmony had moved, Luna had seen, and she had followed. It had taken a simple illusion to convince them to split off, and now she was confronting them face to face, her magic holding them in place.

"Elements of Harmony," she said as she reached them. "I have need of your services."

"Luna." Twilight growled, seeing Rainbow Dash in her magical grip as she tried to free herself. "You traitor! Let us go!"

"Nay, I shall hold onto you for the time being, Twilight Sparkle," Luna only tilted her head, her ears swivelling as she listened to them struggle.

"Where are the humans, Luna?" Twilight demanded, glaring daggers at her. Luna only smiled, chuckling softly at her question.

"There are no humans, a mere illusion spell I created after seeing the impressive display outside." Luna walked over to a nearby pillar, the damage it 'sustained' melting away to reveal a perfectly undamaged piece of masonry. "See? They certainly know how to make war…"

"What do you want with us?" Rainbow grunted as she flailed a bit before falling still, giving Luna an annoyed look.

"To be perfectly frank, I only desire one of you," Luna stated calmly as she walked away, Twilight floating away from the rest of the group. "The rest of you I have no concerns with."

"Well little missy, we have a bit of a problem with ya taking Twilight without her say so," Applejack growled, her teeth clenching tightly against one another. Luna only smiled at this, looking back to her with a knowing smile.

"Perhaps you should be more concerned with your own survival," she said offhandedly, slowly melting into the darkness.

"You would kill us?" Fluttershy whimpered, only to see it hardly had any effect on the Alicorn.

“If it became necessary,” she said simply.

"Just how corrupted have you become because of humanity?!" she shouted, attempting to give Luna the Stare. Luna herself just rolled her eyes in response, dignifying that sentence more than it deserved.

"In this case, you should not fear me," Luna's horn flared for a moment in the darkness, "The humans will not be so forgiving."

"When are they ever going to be forgiving?" said Twilight angrily through gritted teeth.

"Perhaps this time, it might bring you good fortune if you ask?" Luna said, before she threw the other mares out the glass windows. "Ask nicely! Oh, and by the way… on the way here, I met this interesting human with a rifle. Granted, he was most displeased with my appearance, but he was still following me with some gusto."

"I'll stare him down!" Fluttershy yelled.

"I doubt that will work," Luna said, as she faded into the darkness. "Say hello to Mr. Kraber."

"Un sekai nerahma safah!" someone yelled, and Fluttershy looked down to see a small coffee can rolling along the floor, a smiley face painted on it.

The floor exploded.

"SHOWTIME, MOTHERFOKKERS!"

***

The combined forces of forces of Stabsunteroffizier Viktor Kraber and First Lieutenant C. Winston conducted battle against the Elements of Harmony (well, except their leader Twilight Sparkle - lord knew where she was) and out of all the humans and ponies there the two who had it out for two of the Elements the most were Kraber and Winston.

For Kraber, it was Pinkamena Diane Pie - he'd invited the fokking mank genaaide bergbok to plan a party for his kids and she'd returned it by zombifying not just his family, but a lot of the kids of his hometown. It had been near his birthday, too.

For Winston, it was Applejack - reason wasn't too personal like Kraber's vendetta against the barrier of laughter, but it was the fact that Winston and Applejack had similarities to them; what with their unique speakings, a dislike of fancy northern folks, and folks assuming that them being country types makes them dumber than a sack of bricks… yet they also both are stubborn to an extent, rash, headstrong and (as the First Lieutenant had been told once) a great deal of connect to their respective families.

Now, one might have assumed that Winston's vendetta was about the fact that he and Applejack shared similarities… and one would have been right if it wasn't for the fact that Winston despised Applejack's apparent hypocrisy (Element of Honesty his ass) and also her more recent could behaviour to her own kin; that's when it went personal for the part cajun.

And of course, Kraber didn't like Applejack either. Not for any personal reasons, but about a year ago, he'd befriended her cousin and hadn't liked what he'd heard.

To make matters simple, Kraber despised Pinkie Pie for ruining his life and Winston hated Applejack for being a hypocritic of the highest caliber and not respecting her family.

Would they get any satisfaction during this hunt?

"You monster!" screamed one newfoal. "Do you enjoy hurting other-"

Kraber shredded the newfoal with his shotgun. "Yes."

Aegis raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"What? You wanted me to give some complex psychological answer? He trotted right into that!" Kraber protested. "Besides, I'm kak at psychology?"

"Hey now Kraber," Winston began, "you may wanna save your ammo for that Pink horse, newfoals are a waste." As he spoke, he threw throwing a knife and pinned a Pegasus to the wall by its wing before it was shot by Staff Sergeant Jenston.

"Nah. I got plenty of ammo. What do you think the LMG's for?" Kraber asked. "Lookin' forward to a good ol' hosedown like with dad and his old Galil."

The First Lieutenant just rolled his eyes at Kraber, before focusing on tracking down one of the Elements - Fluttershy was both a difficult horse and yet an easy one, reports say that she couldn't fly worth a damn, and yet there was that insane look of her's. Rainbow Dash would be a hard sell, hopefully Air Blitz would be able to find her first and ground her. Rarity… well, shoot, he didn't know anything about her so… best to just shoot her horn or somethin'. Applejack was going to be a special case and he'd have to make sure to have a 'heart to heart' with her, one country bumpkin to another someone would call it… except he was from Louisiana and all - idjits.

The two units continued forth, Steel Forge, Aegis and Anvil at the forefront while Air Blitz and Sundiver hovered nearby - Sharp Horn and Verdant Tract where behind them; Kraber and Winston trailing with their respective human soldiers behind besides them/behind them and attending to their flanks.

Sylvia Garcia clutched her battered G36, aiming it in every direction he could imagine to hide any imperial forces. "Hey, Bossman," she called out to Kraber. "Any idea what signs to look for?" You could tell he was looking forward to using the bola launcher he'd attached underbarrel. Johnny C had inspired him back during the siege of Defiance, it seemed.

"I think we'll know when we find it," Kraber said, ignoring what most commanders would consider insubordination. He'd been - and still was, to some degree - that way once.

Staff Sergeant Jenston took point with Petrikov, the former's FN P90 Submachine gun let out a few rounds in a quick burst - taking out a newfoal Unicorn that attempted to gallop into hiding.

"Where are the damn Elements?" Jentson wondered, as Petrikov dwelled on a nearby corpse. "If Discord is the 'Spirit of Chaos' then wouldn't the Queen want to use them on him immediately?"

"Well, I wouldn't know," Petrikov drawled. "But from what I hear, the Elements ain't exactly… work ready. From what I can tell, the fancy necklaces're disagreeing with some of the stuff their mannequins have been used for."

Jentson looked at him, confused.

"Sounds about right," Kraber agreed.

Jentson just looked at both of them, still confused.

"What? We're fokkin weapons testers!" Kraber explained. "We might not understand it, but we hang out with people that do."

"Never been in the mood to argue," Aegis said. "The thing that pink bitch did to you… that can't count as laughter."

"That's a good a point," Corporal Snart agreed, his own experimental weapon - the 'cryoprojector' aka the 'cold gun' they called it - hummed slightly as its magicks charged up for a blast. "Fluttershy's whole staring trick isn't kind at all, have you heard about what happened in the last evacuation of the UK?"

"I heard that Commander Renee was there, helped get the Royal Family and Lyra out on the last flight." First Class Private Carmichael chimed in. "I take it wasn't good?"

"She looked at Royal Marines, forced them to drop their weapons and drink the potion just by staring at them," Snart expanded. "Rumor has it that the Commander would have torn himself apart had Lyra not intervened."

"Well then, that just means they're all hypocrites that don't deserve what they're holdin'," Winston intervened, his eyes looking ahead as the two units walked on.

"Sir, maybe we should try to… take the Elements from them," Sharp Horn suggested, looking back to her commander and to Kraber, "If we do then we could figure out what happened to Commander Renee and find some way to use them on Twilight Sparkle and the others."

"Horn, that isn't a good idea," Air Blitz reprimanded, hovering overhead. "Even then, before we had no idea on how the Elements worked; the closest were fables in a book - Luna knows what Celestia has done to them and frankly, I don't want to know what she's done to their bearers."

"Got a plan?" Garcia asked.

"Find em. Kill em. Cut a head off the war machine," Kraber said. "The Major was non-specific as to how many have to get bliksemed."

"And by that you mean how many get put down?" Winston asked dryly, looking to Kraber at the side of his eye.

"Ja. Here's a funny thing, though," Kraber said. "I remember some of the stories about something Rarity did before the war. Aegis, how many did Heliotrope say they sent after her?"

"Enough you'd think they were trying to kill off a crystal empire holdout," Aegis said.

"She tried to run away right?" Iron Forge asked, "She and Sparkle's dragon right? Did a… what was it called?"

"They tried to elope, if that's what your train of thought is," Carmichael interjected.

"That ain't the point," Aegis said. "Thing is, with all the stuff that came after Rarity, she's valuable to the Empire. If we kill, I don't know, Pinkie Pie-" (He tried not to see the smile on Kraber's face) "-Then I don't know what happens. I don't think Element Bearers are common, though."

"How about this then, we find the Elements, Kraber kills the Pink horse like he's always wanted; we capture the Flutter horse, Rarity and… the hyprocrite - if the other two give us trouble, we kill them too." Winston suggested with a scowl on his face

Kraber held up a hand. "Ssssh."

He stared down the reflex sight of his massive LMG. The average pony couldn't rightly understand why the 'L' stood for 'Light'.

"Got you now, jou fokkin kontgesig…" he smiled.

"Wait. Don't do it yet," Aegis whispered. "If we attack them on the street, that means Rainbow or Fluttershy can fly away. We need to box them in first."

"You kidding? Flutershy can't fly worth a bit, everypony knows that." Tempest whispered to Aegis, "Though we should be careful about Rainbow Dash…"

"She's right," Air Blitz whispered, silently landing next to Sharp Horn and Anvil, "we don't want to screw this up."

"But I'm with Aegis," Kraber said. "I don't want to take the chance."

"Fine," Winston began, "Kraber, since you like being loud you lead your boys and girls in to push them back-"

"Is this a pincer movement?" Aegis asked.

"Yes, now as I was saying-"

"I like the sound of that," Kraber smiled, wishing he could do something dramatic with the MG2023 he'd taken from the PHL armory while listening to Elliot.

"Will you idjits let me finish?" the First Lieutenant scowled. "Kraber, you take your troops in front - be as loud as possible and force them back; my men and mares will go around and cut them off, if you kill the Pink horse then I'll buy you a bottle; you kill the hypocrite, then I'll smash a bottle in your face, clear?"

"Ohhhhhhh shit," Tempest hissed over the comms.

"What? What's-"

"It's Princess Luna," Tempest hissed. "She does not look happy with the Elements. Looks like she's chasing them, and-"

Can you provide a distraction? I can help with your 'pincer movement'

Winston, Kraber, and their respective units all looked alarmed; Jenston and Petrikov trying to find the source of the voice… though Winston's eye was scanning all across ahead of them.

"I think that's Princess Luna," Kraber said. "Voice sounds familiar. Alright - looks like she's forcing them into that department store."

"How do you even know what her voice sounds like?" Petrikov asked.

"It's a long story," Aegis said. "Like… 13 chapters long?"

"More like 17," Kraber disagreed.

“Maybe even 24,” Aegis added.

"Whatever," Winston snapped. "Kraber, you do your thing with your unit; we'll come around and ambush them… just remember, try to take three of them alive for questioning - for kicks let's try Horn's idea, if you kill one make sure to steal their jewelry… might be able to be used if we bring it to Cadence or the Doctor. Ready?" he asked, bringing his gun up.

"Absofokkinlutely," Kraber said, a smile on his face.

"Alright! Everyone and pony, get your feet in gear!" Winston ordered, the groups splitting off with Winston's unit heading right and into the store while Kraber and his unit proceeded directly into the store and through its front door all the while tall, lanky Afrikaner had a big grin on his face.

"SHOWTIME, MOTHERFOKKERS!"

***

"Hm, I thought so." Luna shrugged as she moved deeper into the darkness, ignoring the sounds of gunfire while she floated Twilight behind her. "Now then Twilight Sparkle, you shall tell me everything you know about your dear Tyrant."

Much as Luna had grown to like Twilight, and as intrusive a violation as the spell she was planning on, it made sense. Twilight would be the one the Princess had trusted the most. Twilight would be the one that would have been brought to the cause first, as the Tyrant's most eager researcher.

Twilight would know the most. And something told Luna that her mind would be the most palatable.

"Don't call her that!" Twilight shouted in rage, kicking out her legs uselessly. "She is Queen Celestia of Equestria, the rightful ruler of Equus and Earth, Saviour of ponykind and all species!"

"Hm, how shall we put this?" Luna mused to herself before looking to the floating mare. "Tell me, how would you like it if a species declared itself better than your own and began wiping you out down to the last child?"

"But there is no species better than us Ponies!"

"So you could never see the irony of the situation?" she sighed. "I see it was foolish of me to engage in this pointless conversation with you. Very well, let's get this over with."

Luna's eyes and horns flashed with blinding light in preparation of a spell.

"Torturing me will get you nothing," Twilight hissed as she continued her struggles, but her statement caused Luna to give a hollow chuckle.

"My vicious little creature of hate," Luna chuckled softly, a vindictive smile on her face. "You truly forgot who I am."

"What?!"

"My name is Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria, Princess of the Night, Caretaker of the Moon and Stars," Luna proudly proclaimed, before leaning in close to Twilight, a vicious smile on her face. "Defender of Nightmares. Or in this case for you, Bringer of Nightmares, and I never said anything about torture, you abomination."

Luna's horn flared once before the spell impacted Twilight's skull. Twilight's will to remain awake was no match for the thousand year old Alicorn's might, falling asleep within seconds of contact.
"I just want to see what's inside…"

Luna dropped the mare on a nearby bed display, looking around to ensure the area was secured enough to perform the Mind Delve spell. It was the only way she could bypass the mental barriers without killing any pony immediately from trying. It was a reason why there wasn't many spells to begin with, as any attempts made ended badly for the user and target. And there were strange, disturbing tales about what happened to ponies that were subjected to it by inexperienced unicorns, tales where the moral boiled down to "It does more harm than good." Still, Luna was an alicorn, so she would probably be fine.

Before entering Twilight's mind, she set up a shield spell, which would last about an hour, barring any unforeseen attacks. The humans she'd seen, particularly the one with the very large gun, seemed to have kept the twisted elements at bay.

***

Discord hung in mid-air, his arms folded as he waited for Queen Celestia to arrive. He looked at a non-existent watch on his arm and raised an eyebrow.

"Discord!" a demented sounding voice yelled.

"Ah, right on cue," he said. He held out a hand, and in it materialised a baseball bat, the words Ashley Bat printed on it in bold letters, with smaller writing underneath in handwritten script saying 'happy purifications, from the Batter'. A moment later, a streak of white light shot toward him, fiery and full of the promise of death.

"Purification in progress," he murmured, and he swung the bat right as she was about to connect with him, sending her flying off into a nearby building with a loud crash and a scattering of rubble and debris, the bat breaking in two from the effort. He looked at it with a sad smile. "Home run. Thanks, Batter."

A moment later, she burst from the ruins.

"I will tear you apart," she growled.

"All talk and no plot," he replied. He tilted his head, angling as if to look at her rear. "Correction - there’s lots of plot. Too much cake, Celly?"

Yelling, she barreled into him again, and forced him through a building, before throwing him to the ground in a heap with another spell.

"Ok, don't mention the cake," he said quietly, dragging himself from the ground. "Alright, Celly, enough games."

"Really?" she said, landing near him. "This from you, the king of games?"

"Ahem," Discord said, raising a clawed finger and pointing upward. "I am a Lord, not a King. Judging from your ample figure, being an actual monarch would be bad for my general fitness. Is that the cake aga -"

He found himself blasted backward again, smashing into a building.

So I lied about not mentioning the cake, he thought to himself. So sue me. It's a good berserk button. The angrier she gets, the more strength she burns. She's like a child throwing around a flail, there's only so long before she gets tired or hurts herself.

Celestia's eye twitched as she moved near him. "Why won't you die?"

"I don't feel like letting you get the drop on me again," Discord replied.

"Aga - oh," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I understand now. Your final attack in the Crystal mines… you hid yourself in my student's mind."

"Not quite. But does it matter what I did?" Discord asked, smiling evilly at her. "I prefer to live in the moment. And at the moment…"

Before he could finish speaking, a giant mallet appeared from nowhere behind Celestia, smashing her into the ground before pounding at her repeatedly.

"…at the moment, I'm enjoying beating you down," he finished with a snigger. "It's remarkably therapeutic. I'd do it more often, but I do intend to kill you, so I suppose I won't get the -"

The mallet evaporated in a flash of magical energy, Celestia obliterating it.

"… chance," he finished, trailing off. "On the other hand…"

"Tell me something," Celestia asked, scowling at him. "The human with that strange magic - is he one of your experiments?"

"Knight boy, you mean?" Discord asked. "No, I'm honestly as surprised as you are. Which is nice, really. Not often you get to say something surprises you when you can do this."

He snapped another finger, and there was a gleam in the sky. Celestia looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"What in the name of all that is…"

A moment later, a giant grand piano landed on her head, another Discord tapping away at the thing.

"You ruined the middle C," he yelled over at the Discord who was grinning at the scene.

"Sorry!" Discord replied.

A moment later, the piano (and the playing Discord, another clone) was obliterated by a flash of energy. Celestia barreled out, slamming into Discord, and threw him through another building in a flash of power. He barreled back out almost as fast, punching her in the jaw with his tail as he went, before front flipping and landing further away from her, before spinning and preparing to unleash another attack.

"STOP! PLAYING! GAMES!" Celestia screamed. She turned, her horn glowing, but she was struck in the face by a small object. Frowning, she looked down at it - only to find herself staring at a small ball.

"What?" she said, raising an eyebrow. She looked up, only to find a bat smacking her in the face. She shook her head, and another smack threw her upward into the sky.

"Another home run!" Discord yelled. "Enjoying this now!"

Celestia snapped her head down to look at him, and a spell flashed, a bolt of fiery energy streaking toward him and narrowly missing him as he pushed himself back from the explosion. He scowled.

"Why won't you die?" he asked, snapping his claw. A curved sword appeared in his lion paw, and he spun it, before snapping his paw finger, another sword appearing in his griffon claw. He flipped backward, spinning both the blades and smirking.

"Swords are no use here," Celestia grinned, landing nearby and flapping her wings.

"I think we know an armoured human or two who'd disagree, but I digress," Discord said, grinning. He aimed one of the swords at her - and suddenly a bolt of fiery energy lashed out, slamming into her and throwing her through a building.

"You pick up a lot when you go about the multiverse," he said with a grin. "I got that move from a bad tempered pirate. Come on Celestia, pull out your big guns! You've been handed plenty of smaller ones, just drop them down and say 'Won't be needing th-'"

He was blasted back by a sudden blast of energy, slammed through another building, and then found another bolt of magic bearing down on him, smashing him through three metres of concrete and then leaving him groaning in pain.

"… ok," he murmured. "Those were big guns."

He pulled himself out of the crater he'd been left in, and scowled at Celestia, who was stood nearby.

"Do you ever get bored of your childish antics?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not… really," he said, groaning. He held up a clawed finger. "Gimme a minute."

"No," she said. Her horn flared and another spell blasted him through another building. "You might not get bored of this ridiculousness, Discord, but I do. I've been patient enough. It's time for you to lie down and die!"

"Really?" Discord laughed, and suddenly an old, bearded stallion with an autoshotgun in his assault saddle and a green mohawk stood atop a building.

"MUCKLE DAIRMED HORSE GOAD, AIR YE BE KEEPIN ME WEE NAMBLIES?!" he screamed, shotgun discharging an almost literal torrent of pellets in Celestia's direction.

"Like that would do anything?" she laughed, as the pellets quite literally bounced off her. "Your tricks, your visual gags… you're getting desperate, Discord. I will always win out. Always-"

"Says the mare that turned her little utopia into a cesspool on par with the worst of 20th century humanity's dictatorships," Discord said. "And by the way? The old stallion up there wasn't aiming at you."

"TOAD YA AH APPRECIATED TH VALUE AY POINT BLANK ANNIHILATION!" the old stallion laughed.

"Seeya, Henderson!" Discord laughed. "Hey, before we split, one question. How high would you say this ranks on your scale?"

"Two."

"That is impressive," Discord said. With that, his body dissolved into a thick, sticky substance, that-

"Gum?!" Celestia laughed. "You expect to hold me with-"

"A COURSE AH DINNAE!" the old stallion yelled. "STILL, AH THINK AH SHOOD C4 MAHSELF!"

And everything exploded. Smoke drifted everywhere.

“Ah, everypony loves a pun,” Discord said with a smile.

The smoke cleared, and Celestia was suddenly standing less than four feet from him, and his smile disappeared.

“In that case,” she said, grinning maliciously as her horn glowed, “prepare for your punishment.”

***

Stephan scowled as he took stock of the troops he had with him. There were about two and a half dozen troops running around, all of whom had pulled back from the missile blast zone. There was no count on how many had been lost - units like Kraber's and Winston's were still out there. He saw Trixie helping organise another squad, and smiled slightly.

"Kellman!" he called to the Lieutenant, who had come out with the forces and was organising them into something resembling order. "What's the situation?!"

"We have troops pulling back from the fighting," Kellman replied, looking harried. "From all accounts, the Tyrant is still active out there."

"Fuck!" Stephan swore. This was bad - if the missiles hadn't done anything, then…

"Look out!" someone yelled. Suddenly, a mismatched figure landed amongst them, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet. A moment later… she arrived, glowing slightly, her eyes full of the promise of excruciating death - if you were lucky.

Immediately the half dozen troops opened fire on her, but she raised a shield and ignored their bullets, and none of them could bring anything heavy enough to kill her to bear before she retaliated by throwing a spell out, knocking a half dozen men to the ground and obliterating several in a fiery conflagration. Some of them, apropos of nothing, simply split in half, their blood spilling across the ground. The rest cowered, not sure how to react to this.

"Stay out of my way," she advised them. "I will get to you presently."

A single gunshot rang out. Incredibly, Kellman was aiming a pistol at her, scowling as he fired the thing to no effect. She laughed.

"Stupid fool," she said, her horn flaring up.

Her spell lashed out, but before Kellman could be obliterated, Stephan had pushed him out of the way, taking the blast himself. He was thrown backward, but the armour took the worst of it. Still, it had hurt.

"Stephan!" he heard Trixie call out.

"Retreat!" he managed to call out, pulling himself to his feet. "Everyone retreat!"

"Cute," Celestia said as the human and pony fighters followed the order, watching them go with a slight smile. "But at the very least, I do love a moving target…"

Her horn glowed again, but Stephan had already launched himself at her with a yell, slamming into her side before bringing his sword to bear. She dodged him with an arched eyebrow, and sent a quick spell into him, knocking him to the ground.

"What is it with humans with swords today?" she mused aloud. "Is it 'sword day' or something? Should I be keeping an eye out for more of you? Or is it just that you ran out of every other weapon you had to fail against me?"

"Fuck you," Stephan growled, before lashing out. Celestia dodged back, but her mane was caught by the blade, several locks of hair falling away. She growled.

"Impudent wretch!" she snapped. "I will -"

There was a flash of light, and suddenly Stephan found himself, along with his surviving troops, in Fenway Park, far away from the battle. Dozens of medical personnel surrounded them, looking confused.

"Bauer!" his radio crackled. "Report on the Tyrant! Bauer!"

He sighed as he replied. "HQ, the bitch is still going. Throw everything we have at her!"

"What do you think we've been doing?!" the woman on the other end yelled. "Sorry, Major. Why are you in Fenway Park?"

"I'm guessing Discord teleported us here," Stephan said wearily. "Doesn't matter. We're still going after her. If she gets beyond…"

He imagined the woman on the other end of the radio doing the same as him and trying not to imagine what'd happen. Maybe she could get brought down (maybe!) after taking enough damage, but at this moment, Boston was perhaps the largest repository of shield disrupting weaponry, or PHL newtech in general.

If that couldn't stop her, he'd be surprised if anything could.

"Contact the evac personnel," he said. "Increase the evac radius, get everyone out of the state if possible."

***

"You only delayed their inevitable end, you know," Celestia said to Discord, who was glaring at her, a single claw outstretched, having teleported away the entire complement of human and pony fighters before the Tyrant could cause further harm to them.

"Maybe," he said, grimacing in pain, "but I'm not done with you yet."

"Look at you," she said with a sigh. "You're injured and bleeding, and you still think you have a chance. It's almost funny."

"I promise you this," Discord retorted, grinning. "By the end of this, you won't be the one laughing. You will die in a puddle of your own blood, with a human looking for enough of your skull to piss in."

Before Celestia could reply to this remark, there was a flash of golden energy. A moment later, a blade lashed out, its wielder appearing near Celestia with a look of calm fury upon his face. The first blow missed, barely, and a reverse swing was blocked a golden shield of magic.

"Hello Tyrant," the Avatar of Albion said, grinning viciously. "Had you perhaps forgotten me?"

"Little, insignificant man," Celestia growled. "Go away!"

Her horn glowed, but he deflected the spell with a sharp movement of his sword. Growling, she flapped, forcing him off balance for a moment as she took to the sky, and her horn glowed again, this time firing a larger spell at him. He was blown back and rolled away from the explosion, landing a few metres away on the ground, his armour taking the brunt of the damage, and with a snarl of effort he pushed himself off of the ground.

"Did you really think bringing a sword was enough to take me down?" Celestia asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is it just something your species DOES?!"

"Swords are cool," Discord said from where he was standing. "Who am I to go against his taste?"

The Avatar raised the blade, only for there to be a flash of light. A moment later, he found himself behind the Tyrant. Wasting no time, he brought his blade down and fired the bolt of energy he had been massing within the blade at her back, throwing her forward and into the ground where she impacted with a loud crack of breaking concrete.

There was a burst of orange, and the Tyrant disappeared from the crater the two of them made.

The Avatar looked around, and saw Discord giving him a wave.

"She'll attack in a few more seconds. Still, thought you might appreciate the hand," he said with a wink, then a grimace as he felt some pain lance through him.

"My thanks, Lord Discord," the Avatar said shortly. "Tell me, the man Bauer - does he live?"

"I got him and most of his troops out of here," the Lord of Chaos said with a smirk. "Leaving me the privilege of killing this one."

"Tis good Bauer lives. He is a good man. I trust you do not object to my giving thee 'a hand'," the Avatar smirked. "But fighting the Tyrant is my destiny, and I would not be kept from it. Perhaps fighting together against the mad mare, we may have better luck."

Without waiting for a reply from the Draconequus, he raised Excalibur to the sky, the blade flashing with power, and he brought it down, pointing it at the Tyrant just as she pulled herself up. The blast blew her back into a building, and Discord clapped.

"Well, you're not bad," he complimented. "Could maybe do without the whole 'dost mother know thou wearest her drapes' dialogue, but…"

He was interrupted by a large white explosion of energy as Celestia blasted apart the ground, flapping her wings once and flying into the air.

"You… little… insects!" she screamed. "I'm going to take great pleasure in tearing you apart!"

The Avatar snorted, bringing his blade back into a guard stance. "If thou thinkest I will fall so easily, Tyrant, then come at me!"

Her reply was a blast that threw him backward into another building, through it, and into another. Discord raised an eyebrow.

"Overkill?" he asked.

Celestia's response was another spell lancing toward him. He snapped his claw and appeared above the area, watching the explosion with a scowl.

"Overkill it is then," he said, snapping his fingers again. A giant anvil appeared over Celestia's head, and promptly dropped, but she noticed it and sheared it in two before it could impact her. A quick spell lashed out, smacking Discord in the shoulder and stunning him, and then suddenly she was in front of him, grinning. He gulped.

"Hello," she said softly. "Goodbye."

Her horn glowed again and a blast of magic threw Discord into the sky until he became nothing but a small gleam not unlike a star.

"Finally," she muttered.

A golden flash of energy appeared behind her, and she turned in time to have a spell lance from Excalibur into her face, blasting her through the air. She spread her wings and brought herself to a dead stop, and growled as she saw the Avatar pointing his blade at her in challenge, a small smile on his face. There was no sign he was any worse for wear other than the cut already healing on his face and the scuffed nature of his armour. A moment later there was a glow and the armour restored itself.

"Might it be an idea for thou to try something less survivable, Tyrant?" he said. "That trick appears to not…"

Another spell smashed into him, and he blocked another with his blade, barely managing to keep himself from being knocked backward again. Grimacing, he dodged the next blow, before pushing off of the ground and leaping toward the Queen, bringing his blade up for an overhand strike just as she raised a shield…

Smash.

The golden shield spell shattered as he brought the blade down on top of it, a shockwave lashing out across the ruined streets of the city. Celestia dodged backward, but the tip of the blade managed to nick her shoulder, and she staggered slightly as she did so.

Landing heavily, he immediately capitalised on his hit by spinning in a low cutting motion, but she jumped up, dodging and forcing him to brace against the wind from her wings, and he was forced to bring Excalibur up to block another spell.

The Queen flapped again, landing a short way away from the Avatar, her horn glowing orange and a growl forming in her throat. The wound on her shoulder was healing, but only very, very slowly - clearly, Excalibur had more bite than she had thought. The Avatar raised an eyebrow, sensing the power building in her, and closed his eyes, raising his sword into a high Ox-guard and waiting.

"I am done humouring you, little man," she hissed, spreading her wings and taking off into the sky. "Ashes of Solaris!"

There was a flash of light and a wave of impossibly hot, dry air that lashed out, melting the ground and ossifying anything it touched… a moment later, Celestia was left alone, floating above the battleground and scowling down at where he stood. For a brief second, she thought that it must have managed to finally kill this insect.

But no.

He was stood where he had been standing, a bubble of energy dissipating all around him. His armour was scorched and blackened, smoke rising off of it, and when he looked up she saw a glow as his face was healed of scorched and blistered flesh, becoming once again whole and undamaged. He was breathing heavily, and as she watched he reached behind him and tore off the tattered remains of his cloak, throwing it away from him. He coughed onto his gauntleted hand and scowled at whatever he saw, before looking up at her.

"Is that it?" he asked, spreading his arms wide. "Where is your vaunted power, Tyrant?"

If he expected a growl of concern, frustration, or even an attempt of mockery, he would be disappointed. Instead, perhaps even more disturbingly, he got something else entirely.

Laughter.

"My power?" she asked with a large smile. "I only just started to show you my power!"

***

Hammer, Anvil, and Gnat

Chapter Four: The Hammer, The Anvil and The Gnat.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R

Editors:
TheIdiot.
redskin122004,
The Void,
RoyalPsycho,
ProudToBe.

This chapter also contains direct segments used in the chapters Strike, For Whom The Bell Tolls and Trust, from The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum But it’s okay, we have permission from one of the writers. Who is also one of the writers here.

***

"Death will find you soon enough. War is not about glory. War is about victory!"
Ultramarines Apothecary Pythol, Warhammer 40,000: Ultramarines.

And who by fire, who by water,
Who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
Who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
Who in your merry merry month of May,
Who by very slow decay,
And who shall I say is calling?
Leonard Cohen, Who By Fire.

"Cry 'Havoc' and let slip the dogs of war!"
William Shakespeare: Julius Caesar.

***

Scottish Archives, February 5th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Screaming. Fire. Death. Explosions. Blood - always blood, everywhere, nothing to stop the tide as it washed everything away…

Pain…

Operative Lyra Heartstrings slowly opened her eyes, feeling altogether tired and drained, as though someone or somepony had attached a wire to her and literally sucked all the energy out of her. She frowned slightly, trying to remember what had happened that might have caused this feeling of lethargy. Slowly, though, memory returned to her: the fighting in London, and…

"Elliot!" she cried out, before wincing in pain as fresh agony shot through her.

"Don't try to move too much, ma'am," a voice said. Lyra turned her head slightly, to see an electric blue Unicorn mare smiling down at her. She wore a black combat vest, with a red cross on one sleeve and a green cross on the other. "I'm Dr. Tender Care. I've been assigned to your case."

"My… case?" Lyra said weakly. Her eyes widened as more memories came flooding back. "Elliot, did he -?!"

"Yes, your case," Tender Care interrupted, moving a hoof to comfort Lyra. The mare turned to a white mare with a red mane who was standing a little way behind her, wearing a uniform shirt with the same pair of coloured crosses as Care. "Small Mercy, would you kindly go and inform command that Operative Heartstrings is awake and in the process of recovering?"

"Of course," she replied. "Would you like me to get some of the supplementary nano-injections for Miss Heartstrings as well?"

"That would likely be wise," Care said with a smile. "Every four hours I think until we're sure the replication hardware is in place."

"Agreed." With that, the mare left Lyra with Tender Care.

Care turned back to Lyra with a soft smile. "I've been assigned to monitor your condition while your body adapts to the implants."

"Im… plants…?" Lyra repeated, frowning. She didn't understand what she was being told, her mind still feeling far too fuzzy to be able to make sense of any of it. Her limbs felt funny, too… cold…

"Ah, of course, they wouldn't have had chance to tell you yet, would they?" Tender Care said with a knowing nod. "It's going to take a long time to explain, Operative Heartstrings, and you should rest more first."

"No!" Lyra said, surprisingly forcefully. "What… what happened? Please, I need…"

Suddenly, she felt woozy, and her head slammed back onto the pillow, her eyes fluttering slightly. She felt incredibly light-headed.

"Try to rest, Operative Heartstrings," Tender Care said soothingly. "It'll all be cleared up in no time."

With that, she turned away, and Lyra, feeling exhausted for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, fell back to sleep, her mind filled with visions of fire and death…

***

Tender Care approached the two ponies waiting outside the room with a slightly grim expression. It had been a busy day: there were many soldiers here from the battle in London, and many others were present as well. The Archives hadn't been this busy… well, ever.

Off in a nearby room, a Dead Man named Viktor Kraber had been hospitalized as well, suffering from a splitting headache with no discernible cause. He'd barely been able to function. In better days, perhaps they'd have been able to look to him or he'd have been able to treat himself, but there were more important things at hand. Elsewhere, others reported similar headaches or nausea - though few were as badly affected as Kraber had been - and there were others going through surgery for severed limbs and injuries inflicted from hooves, spells and spears.

"Prognosis, doc?" the trench-coated Hell Blazer asked, looking at Tender Care with a slightly worried expression. Standing next to him was the old, tired looking form of the Doctor, his battered leather jacket, scarf and bandolier a stark contrast to Blazer's better kept (if ill-fitting) trench coat.

"The damage to her nervous system, circulatory system, and the organs and muscles around her abdomen were all extremely extensive," Care replied quietly. "I had to call in half a dozen experts to help purge some of the excess magic, and we still needed to implant her body with about eighty five percent of the experimental tech - right now, she's more machine than mare."

"But she will live," the Doctor said, lowering his head slightly to affix Care with a piercing gaze.

"She will," Care confirmed. "Your help was invaluable, Doctor."

"It is good to be able to save someone," the Doctor said with a slight shrug. "Or somepony. I have failed too often in this war. We're fortunate I was still here - I had begun preparations to seek Elliot out…"

"What do the implants do from a combat perspective?" Hell Blazer asked as the older pony trailed off. "Will she fight again?"

"Actually, if the implants do what they're supposed to, she should fight even more effectively than before," Tender Care said with a slightly surprised expression. "I don't know much about nanotechnology - that would be your field, Doctor." The old pony inclined his head as she continued. "But apparently when her internals are damaged the implants release and replicate clouds of nanobots that, theoretically, heal most damage. The muscle augmentations make her stronger, too."

"Damn," Hell Blazer said, smirking. "Well, that's good news at least."

"Indeed," the Doctor said quietly. "We are fortunate. But it isn't over, yet."

"No," Tender Care said, sighing. "Doctor Hooves…"

"Please, just Doctor," the Doctor said, holding up a hoof.

"Doctor then," Tender Care said. "I'd like to know what the progress on the Iron Clad project is - I understand they called you in for that."

"Ah," the Doctor said, his smile widening slightly. "That is an interesting case…"

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

First Lieutenant C. Winston panted slightly as he got back to his feet, his eyes focused entirely on the mare before him.

Her coat was orange, her mane blonde - she had a pair of green eyes and a trio of red apples on her flank… there were two things that one could identify her out if all else failed: a golden necklace with a jewel in its center that looks like an apple, and an old stetson on her head.

There would be no mistaking it; this was Applejack, the Element of Honesty and among the biggest liars and hypocrites that Earth (or Equestria, it all depends on who you ask) would ever know.

The pincer movement had worked: thanks to Kraber's unit causing a distraction and driving the Elements back, they were able to catch them off guard and trap them. The highlight was Winston being able to tackle Applejack away from her friends and drive her to a secluded place so that they could… 'chat'.

It was a fierce fight, Winston's training - boxing and rather brutal moves - against Applejack's own farming experience and strength; they had beaten each other up rather badly to be honest. Winston's body was hurting in parts - he'd definitely be sporting some bruises after this, though nothing that can't be healed up, naturally or magically. Applejack was probably hurting in some places too, she was panting like he was… but thankfully, the First Lieutenant had managed to wear her down.

"Now then, Miss Applejack," Winston panted, tightening his fists as he began to push himself to walk over to her. "I think it's high time you come with me and… have a chat with folks that really wanna meet with you."

Applejack scowled at him, her eyes narrowed.

"You… are out of… your mind… Carl," she panted, trying to stand despite the pains, "if you're… thinkin' that Ah'm… gonna go with you."

"Hey now, I told you the name's First Lieutenant Winston," he scowled with a glare, "and you've got a lot of lies to answer for."

Before she could reply, there was a loud, inhuman screaming from somewhere near them. Winston turned to see what it was, frowning.

Whatever it was, it couldn't mean anything good.

***

Somewhere, a midnight blue Alicorn was seeing the most terrible things that a world could have to offer anyone. Somewhere deep within her, something broke.

Luna blinked a she found herself back into the real world, utter confusion on her face as she looked down to see Twilight glaring at her. Luna's eyes widen in shock when she realized that the creature managed to counter her spell. Her horn glowed, ready to strike the small unicorn down with a single spell.

"Kill me… please kill me," a small voice spoke.

Luna hesitated; right now, she didn't see Twilight the vicious murderer. She saw Twilight the victim, trapped inside her mind.

That hesitation cost her when Twilight's horn glowed and she smirked, vanishing from sight. Luna stood a for a long moment, hearing the sounds of battle die off as one by one, the Elements escaped thanks to Twilight.

Luna stared at the spot where the unicorn had been lying not a few minutes ago. Her cheeks caked with tears, shaking as the haunted images slowly began to consume her mind, her heartbeat a loud roar in her ears.

"What do you mean?" Luna asked. "Twilight-

"-is not in control at the moment," Disclone finished. "I have memories of being inside her mind. Trust me on this."

Now she knew.

Now she knew everything/i].

She looked up, eyes widening in rage. Everything she had seen, every abomination she had witnessed, replayed through her mind again and again and again and again until…

"….aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

It burst.

***

"How the hell did you survive that?" Jentson asked as Kraber picked himself up off the floor.

"After awhile you learn not to question it," Aegis said. "Personally, I think it's na-"

"Don't say it," Tempest sighed, "For the love of all that's holy, please don't say nanomachines."

"But we've been waiting to do that for awhile!" Kraber protested.

"Can you do this at a time where we don't have Princess Luna at gunpoint?!"

"WHAT?!" Aegis yelled. "For the love of God, nobody shoot her! Especially not, you, Viktor."

"Why would I do that?" Kraber asked, wincing as he pulled himself to his feet. Fok. I think I broke something. He felt like he'd taken an antivehicle round or two to the back, but he'd gotten worse. Compared to falling from the Fillydelphia, or that time Reaper beat the kak out of him, or that time he'd fallen out a three-story building, this wasn't much. "Lunar Phase, Nebula, Moonshine, even Cady would be pissed."

"Cadence?" Tempest asked.

Kraber shrugged. "I was actually thinking Caduceus from back in Portland, but that works too."

"You could be really angry and in the throes of a mental breakdown," Aegis suggested.

"And this is different from normal me how?" Kraber joked.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or not. Being around an Alicorn, even one that he'd heard nothing but praise for, it was hard for him to handle himself.

But then, if he couldn't handle himself, Aegis was there.

"This day just gets better and better," Aegis said, lifting Kraber up with his neck till he could get back on his feet.

"When I am done with all this," Kraber said, MG2019 aimed at the shaking princess, "I am going to do so much cocaine. I'm just going to fake something on my medical dossier so it says cocaine is vitamins to me."

"Like hotel soap?" Tempest asked.

"No you won't," Aegis said.

"Yeah, you're right, I'll just take PCP again," Kraber said.

"You have a serious problem," Petrikov sighed.

"A problem," Kraber said. "Really."

It needs to be said here, they were still scared and unnerved. Magic was dangerous, everyone knew that, even if Kraber and now Aegis didn't believe it was toxic to humans. Alicorns, however, they were brimming with magic. Young unicorns were prone to unpredictable magic surges, especially when they were suffering panic attacks.

A distraught Alicorn, though, that was worrisome as hell.

"We should probably follow her," Kraber said after a moment.

Aegis threw him a glance that quite clearly said 'you're mad'. At which point Kraber threw him back a glance that just asked 'and this is news how?'

"Someone has to," Kraber said. "I say we keep at whatever distance we like from her. I just want to know what the fok's goin' on."

"Kraber," the voice of Winston said over the radio. "You there?"

"Ja," Kraber replied. "Loud n' clear."

"That… Applejack horse… got teleported out by Sparkle… what's going on over there?" the First Lieutenant demanded, with a grunt of pain.

"From what I can tell, all hell is breaking loose in hell," Kraber said. "Luna's gone right bosbefok, and the Elements are running scared. And there's this really weird feeling I'm getting, it's like the opposite of bad luck-"

"Is it the feeling that things are actually turning out well for us?" Aegis asked.

Kraber paused. "Son of a fok, it is!"

"Ah hell," Winston said dryly. "I take it you're gonna do something stupid and go after her?"

"We're observing, not shooting her," Aegis said.

"That… isn't what I’d call a good idea, but it's your choice, I guess," Winston said, sounding pained - he must have been banged up.

"She seems like she's on our side," Aegis said. "Or at least, she doesn't seem like she's happy with the Empire. So that means we don't rule her out and blow her to hell."

"Like I said, your choice, no matter how much of a dumbass choice it is," Winston said. "I'm gonna try to get back to Fenway Park, gather as many survivors from various units I can find to reinforce the portal area that got capture. Do me a favor though, Kraber."

"If this involves being sober afterwards, I don't want to hear about it."

"Don't worry, you'll like this one," Winston said. "If you get chance - give that Bitch of a Tyrant Horse my regards. With all hell’s worth of prejudice."

"I'll make sure she gets the message," Kraber said.

"'Preciated," Winston said.

***

Grunting with effort as he blocked another spell, the Avatar of Albion considered his options.

Though the 'Ashes of Solaris' spell she had used was clearly the most powerful spell in her arsenal (so far, he added grimly in his head), there was little in this Tyrant's arsenal that was not powerful to some degree or another. He had always expected fighting the Tyrant to be a difficult task, but he had been rather hoping for it to not be this insane. Every blow he took was strong - there was no strike that was not the hammer: true, there was little to no subtlety, but there was no letting up, either. She just kept coming, and he was hard pressed to find his opening. She was like a flail with a colossal ball at the end, except the flail never stopped. It wasn't necessarily unrelenting, but it felt as if he would be smashed to the ground with every interval between spells.

You're not strong enough yet, a small part of him thought. There's more to gain, more power to tap, more knowledge to seek. That you're so outmatched is proof of that.

Well, what else would he have done? And it wasn't as if he would ever get the chance to gain that knowledge or power if the Tyrant tore him apart now. Still, he mused, at least he had given her enough of a fight to warrant her attention, even if it was only because she had driven off the creature Discord for the moment.

"Why. Won't. You. DIE?!" she screamed at him, firing spell after spell. Rocks and chunks of destroyed masonry were grabbed by her telekinetic grip, before being lobbed at him, forcing him to deflect them with Excalibur, dodge them as fast as he could, or else simply take the impacts, grunting with pain as he did so.

"I will not die until I have fulfilled my task," he replied, growling at her. "And my task is your death!"

He leapt above another spell, and pushed himself at her through the air, bringing his blade in a powerful arc, only for her to dodge above him, hitting him with another spell and sending him crashing to the ground. He groaned, looking directly above him at the Alicorn as she floated above him, a grin on her face.

"Ready to lay down and die, yet?" she asked.

He ignored her, instead focusing on something flying down from above her. He smiled, before vanishing in a flash of golden light.

She frowned down at the empty space, about one second before a satellite landed on top of her, Discord standing on top of it, smirking.

"Howdy," he said to the Avatar, who was standing nearby, scowling at the satellite. "Don't worry. It's an old Soviet satellite, nothing important."

"We have but moments," the armoured figure said quietly, coughing as he spoke.

"Of course we have 'but moments'," Discord said with a smirk, though he noted the coughing with interest. "Still better than a butt moment like her royal large flankness."

"Joking and terrible puns aside," the Avatar said, moving his blade into a low-guard as the satellite exploded. Celestia flapped her wings and floated before them, scowling down at them.

"Discord," she said with a growl. "I suppose it was too much to hope I'd killed you."

"No body, no kill," Discord replied with a smirk. "I'm tougher than you think, Madam le Grande Posterior."

"And I am losing patience with you," Celestia replied with narrowed eyes. "So I think it is best if you…"

She was interrupted by a sudden scream in the distance, loud and getting louder, and deafening enough that even the Avatar was forced to cover his ears.

"Looks like Lulu found something she didn't quite agree with." Discord said off handedly, watching as the sky began to darken, as if the sun was setting at a rapid pace. Except that couldn't be… the sun hadn't moved. There was a dark blot expanding over the city, and the shadows were lengthening all around.

"What did you-?!" Celestia eyes shifting to Discord with anger.

"Me? I just told Lulu to rip Twilight's mind apart, find out whatever secrets you may have told her." Discord said nonchalantly, looking at his claw with little interest. "Looks like she found something alright."

The Avatar was looking up at the sky. "What in the name of all that is holy…?"

And suddenly, as if in answer to his unfinished question, a dark-coloured Alicorn slammed into the ground, her face full of a seething, unbridled rage as she glared at Celestia, her eyes narrow, cat-like slits. She wore midnight blue armour, and her coat was black as the night itself.

"Hello Nightmare Moon," Discord greeted her with a jovial tone.

"Nightmare Moon…?" the Avatar repeated, eyes wide. He had heard the name.

The Alicorn ignored his comment, instead looking to the Draconequus.

"Discord," she said sharply.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked.

"Shut up, sit down, make any jokes and I'll make the next thousand years in stone look like paradise," she growled. "This whorse is mine. I'll kill her alone!"

Celestia grinned. "Well, if you think you can, Little Moon…"

Nightmare Moon growled, but the Avatar suddenly lay a hand on her shoulder, frowning.

"No," he said softly. "This is not the way forward - you cannot -"

Nightmare Moon flared her wings, her face twisted with rage. The Avatar staggered back a step, just in time for her to charge straight at Celestia, her horn flaring to life. The Avatar growled as the two Alicorns quickly disappeared.

"She will be destroyed," he said simply. "The Tyrant hides more than she lets be seen. Clever. She puts on the facade of a brute, to make us underestimate her as a ravenous monster."

"Insightful for a newbie," Discord commented with a raised eyebrow. "You know, Marcus never mentioned you. I'd have thought he would."

"I am not from here, and I know nothing of any 'Marcus'," the Avatar replied. "And I doubt greatly that he would know of me, either. But be assured - I am new to this world, Discord the Chaos Lord, but not to the evils of Tyrant Suns. She may not be Solamina, but she is still a Tyrant. They are clever beasts, and nothing they do is the product of coincidence. This Tyrant is bold, and maybe her power grants her that confidence, but there is another design to it."

The Draconequus frowned. "Such as?"

"I know not," the Avatar replied with a shrug. "But I know that it will take all three of us to defeat her here."

"Nah, I think Lulu -" Discord began, but then his face fell suddenly. "Oh."

"What?" the Avatar asked, frowning.

"You’re right, she had another design," Discord said, frowning. "Oh. I just realized. Celly's going to try to… oh no."

"Repeating ‘oh’ does not grant sudden clarity to your meaning, Lord Discord."

"I kept thinking to myself that it was good that Celly was getting angry, good that she’d be off balance… I never thought…" Discord said, before facepalming. "Having Luna investigate the Elements may not have been a good idea. Nightmare Moon is going to be focused on one thing and one thing only. Killing that which has angered her. She won't be thinking straight - and I should’ve known that!"

"If she is so enraged, that means her anger will be her enemy’s greatest advantage," the Avatar said quietly. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," Discord said, slapping himself in the face. "Knew I shouldn’t have underestimated that bitch."

The Avatar nodded. "We have to bring Princess Luna under control. Wilt thou aid me?"

Discord smirked. "Why the heck do you think I'm here?"

The Avatar grinned in return. "Good! Let us follow the Alicorns - we must aid thine ally before she is overwhelmed."

"Or before the two of them obliterate half the city," Discord added.

The Avatar grimaced. "That as well."

***

"Report! What the fuck's going on in Boston?! None of the satellites can penetrate that cloud of magic, and the instruments are going nuts!"

"Would 'all hell has broken loose' work?" Stephan asked.

"God damn it, Major! Get your fucking head on straight and give me a Goddamn answer!"

"Well, you tell me how two insane alicorns beating each other to a bloody pulp, an unknown human with magic, and a draconequus running around with no information on his location does NOT qualify as 'all hell has broken loose?!'"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Fair enough."

Stephan stroked the base of his nose with two fingers, sorting out the data in his head. "Look, I can't tell you more than you already have. We both know about the same amount and it all comes out to jack shit, and what I have here is that some shitstorm just broke loose, and if the last reports are true, and Nightmare Moon just appeared…"

"Wait, Nightmare Moon!? Who the fucking hell is Nightmare Moon?!" From how Stephan was hearing the man speak he might as well have be having close to a mental breakdown from the amount of screaming and shouting over the radio from other sources.

"An ancient enemy of the ponies, sir. Turns out it was Luna all along; guess the Tyrant forgot to mention that with the information trade when she first greeted us. Apparently the Unicorns can feel her presence. Some even went totally crazy and talking about the end of the world the moment she appeared. Hell, some of my best pony soldiers pissed themselves at the sight of her. These are the same ponies that stood their ground against a horde of Newfoals and slaughtered them like it was a day in the park." Stephan shook his head. "If that is true, then we have more problems than just the Tyrant."

"What about that other stuff? The armoured loon with the sword, that Discord thing? "

"No word yet," Stephan said. "We have to assume they're still in there."

"Great, more unknowns." There was a pause. "Alright, what's your plan?"

Stephan sighed. "I want every available unit outside the dark cloud of magic to take position around it. Everyone else find cover and stick to a defensive position. Codename, Night Dome. Make sure they got enough firepower to keep Nightmare inside the perimeter. Shoot to kill for Celestia."

"Why not both? Or the armoured guy?"

Stephan sighed heavily, "Something big is going on, and I want Luna, or Nightmare Moon, whatever we call her now, and her friend Discord alive for some answers, because from what I've seen, they're not here to harm us. However, if neither of them are going to cooperate -"

"Understood. And our mysterious magical human friend?"

"He's a wildcard, and if anything I want answers from him just as much," Stephan said with a frown. "Still, he seems to be an ally. He's proven willing to help anyone that'll fight a tyrant, so we're going to give him hospitality afterwards. We don't dissect things that could help us."

"If you say so, Major. Either way, we'll take care of everything. Anything else?"

"Huh, I didn't know it would be that easy… anyway, I need to go back. There are still some of my men inside and I won't let them take on this fight alone." Stephan could feel Trixie's glare digging against the back of his skull. He gave another sigh, bracing himself for Trixie's yelling time.

"I guess ordering you to stand down will amount to jack shit, right?"

Stephan smiled sadly. "You can still try."

"Okay, do what you have to do. HQ out."

Stephan took a deep breath, coughing and straightening his back before turning around to look at Trixie and face her undoubtable ire, which was in some respects far more terrifying than some of the other things he was going to fight today.

Suddenly, there was a distant crack, almost like thunder, and he mentally reconsidered. Almost far more terrifying.

***

Nightmare Moon screamed as she blasted another spell at Celestia, fully intent on blowing her apart. Her sister's foul double did nothing but smirk.

There were many emotions raging through Luna's mind. She had witnessed the testing of the ponification potion in Twilight Sparkle's mind: the sight of hundreds, thousands of people being put through unendurable, horrific torture… there were no words. There were no ways to articulate the horror and rage… except to scream in fury, and destroy the one who had caused it.

She blasted another spell off at Celestia, screeching in fury as she did so. Today, she would end this Tyrant Sun!

***

"I have no idea what the fok is going on," Kraber sighed.

"Eh, we've had less info to go on before," Aegis said. "Remember the Fillydelphia?"

Damn near everyone had heard about that. The two of them had been very willing to talk about it, and from what they'd said, it had sounded near nightmarish.

"I still can't believe you survived that," Tempest said.

"Eh, I'd been through worse," Kraber shrugged.

"…You fell out a zep."

"Ah, but I didn't break everything but my right arm."

"Reh, good point."

"Sarge?" asked one of the men under Kraber's command, a Pole named Petrikov. "What's the plan?"

"We find Nightmare Moon," Kraber said.

"And kill her?" asked another soldier, Garcia. Kraber had essentially been given the dregs of the PHL when he'd gotten back to Boston - apparently, being stuck on a stolen steam locomotive barreling through New Hampshire had left Bauer considering him AWOL. Either Garcia was just that angry at the moment, or she knew Kraber too well - it was hard to say.

"No. We attack Celestia," Kraber said. "Chop her to fokkin bits with everything we have, the biggest fokkin' guns we can muster. Luna-"

"Technically Nightmare Moon," Aegis interrupted.

"-Thanks, Aegis, didn't look like she was in a very Solar Empire-praising mood. So we follow her. Anything that tries to beat the Tyrant to a bloody paste's a chommie of mine," Kraber said.

"What if it's a trick?" Garcia asked.

"Stephan think she's trustworthy," Kraber said. "Orders are orders, and we're long overdue for a miracle."

"What about your pub buddy? The magical one?" Garcia asked.

"Unless it turns out he's the herald of some force trying to exterminate all ponies from the multiverse," Kraber said dryly, "I think we can trust him. Now move out, men - we've got a world to save!"

***

Stephan jogged as fast as he could, his breathing measured but starting to get heavier. The sound of explosions and destruction further in the city were simple enough to follow, but they were far enough away that it would take him a while yet to reach them. He had yet to come across any friendlies, and there was a lot of interference on his radio, preventing him from trying to contact any of the friendlies still in the city.

Suddenly he heard a sound - a familiar sound. A moment later, a blue box appeared in front of him, the words "Police Public Call Box" emblazoned atop it. The TARDIS - and by extension, Doctor Whooves - had arrived.

Stephan frowned as something occurred to him. The TARDIS didn't look like that anymore…

"Isn't that…?" he said to himself, but then the door opened - and somepony who was not Doctor Whooves stuck his head out.

He was older, his coat reddish-brown and his mane greying. He had a beard of the same aged colour, and he wore a battered brown leather coat over an equally battered bandolier, a single silver object held inside.

"Major Stephan Bauer," the pony said, looking at him with a grave expression, his voice tired and raspy. "I would explain, but we have little time. I must get you to the fighting."

"Who the fuck are you?" Stephan asked, scowling.

"I was once very similar to a pony you know as Doctor Whooves," the old pony replied with a tired smile. "Now, however, I fear war has made me something else once again." He ducked his head inside the TARDIS, then popped it out again, frowning. "I would get in, double quick. There is a lot to do, and I have something of a schedule to keep."

"What does that mean?" Stephan asked.

The pony sighed. "We don't even have time to explain why I don't have time to explain. Hurry!"

Stephan ran inside, frowning briefly at the unfamiliar interior of the ship, and then the old pony flipped a switch and the rotor in the glass column began moving.

"I don't understand," Stephan said, turning to the old pony. "Are you from the future?"

"I am from a future," the old pony said. "I have come from the year 2030 - in David Elliot's world. Technically, being here is a cheat on my part, but following the energy traces was always bound to lead to slip-ups."

"You're from Elliot's world?!" Stephan yelled. "What is he? What's-"

"Questions must wait!" the pony snapped. "I'm concentrating!"

***

Chick Pea, a blue Earth Pony stallion in the PHL, frowned as he heard the smashing of buildings like heavy ordnance was going off. He and his team were trying to pull out, but it wasn't going as well as he would have liked. His sergeant, a short-haired human man named Gates, was yelling and gesturing for his team to move. They probably wouldn't have long.

The numbers of newfoals that they'd been fighting seemed to be thinning - ever so slightly - but ammo was low, and they were cut off from headquarters. Newfoals on both sides, trampling the corpses of their fallen compatriots, rushing for the humans. And worse, the city seemed to be exploding around them.

He tried to think positively: he might survive. Hell, he and his compatriots might even die. Still better than surviving and being taken back.

"Sir!" he yelled to the man. "Those crashes are getting closer!"

"I heard them!" Gates yelled back. "Crowe, Fulton, get moving!"

Chick Pea looked back in the direction of the crashes. He could tell that they'd get here before the soldiers would have a chance to pull out. He tensed…

… and suddenly, a dark haired, armoured man with a giant sword and a creature that looked suspiciously like Discord appeared right in front of him in a flash. The creature - yup, that was Discord - immediately turned and floated up into the sky, hovering about five feet off the ground and staring directly at the source of the noise, which was getting closer.

"I'd say we have about a minute," he said.

"Understood," the armoured man said. "Canst thou move these soldiers?"

Discord turned and threw a glance at the squad - Chick Pea's squad was only one of a few teams in the area. The Draconequus frowned.

"Not likely," he said after a moment, frowning. "Lots of them, and they're all moving too much. Hard to get a lock on all of them. Even if I did, it'd take a lot of effort - I'm not a limitless store of magic you know. This is taking a lot out of me…" he seemed winded for a second.

"Damnation," the armoured figure growled. He looked down at Chick Pea. "Who is your commander, little pony?"

"Hey!" Gates yelled, jogging up to the two of them with a scowl on his face. "What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?!"

"I am the Avatar of Albion, and this is Discord, the Lord of Chaos," the armoured man replied bluntly. "Dost thou have a problem?"

"Yeah, I do!" Gates yelled. "Who the fuck are you?!"

Before the Avatar could reply, there was a nearby crash, and suddenly two flying, winged figures could be seen - one, a midnight black Alicorn in blue armour, and the other… the other was the Tyrant. Chick Pea squeaked - that was Queen Celestia, fighting Nightmare Moon.

"Shit," he swore softly. He was vaguely aware of a sudden building pool of liquid at his hooves, but he didn't care.

"Explanations will come if we all survive. I am here to help," the armoured man said. "We can settle out exactly in what way later. Right now, there are more pressing matters." He turned to the Draconequus. "Discord? Can you slow their arrival?"

"Maybe," the Draconequus said. "But Luna won't be happy with the interference from me."

"Then I will rely on you to retrieve the Princess, while I give the Tyrant my regards," the armoured man growled.

He brought his sword up, aimed it at the two Alicorns, seemed to be counting for a moment, and then suddenly the blade glowed and a flash of light shot out, streaking toward the two until it blasted the Tyrant clean through a building. The other Alicorn streaked after her, and Discord snapped his clawed fingers, vanishing in a flash. The armoured man turned to look at Gates, who was gawping slightly.

"Thou should move thine men promptly," he said. "This area will soon become a battleground thou canst not survive. The Tyrant is deadly, and we three shall have to fight hard to match her."

"Fuck," Gates swore. "Yeah, yeah… Chick Pea, let's get moving!"

Chick Pea didn't need telling twice, immediately turning tail and moving out as fast as he could without looking like he was running.

He decided against that a moment later, and just started galloping down the street towards somewhere safer.

***

A few moments passed, and the Avatar was suddenly alone in the street, looking at the desolation left in the wake of this war.

"Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose," he murmured, before looking back in the direction of the loud crashes. He waited for a moment, coughing into his gauntlets hand. He ignored the blood in his hand. The pain was there, but for the moment he was negating it.

He would deal afterward with whatever consequences this fight would leave him. He only hoped he'd still be alive to explain himself.

***

Luna didn't care that her opponent had been struck by a bolt of the armoured human's magic. She didn't care much for the human in general beyond his usefulness in giving her this opening - but she was more than happy to use it, pounding the false Celestia with every spell she could think of now that she was, for the moment, off balance.

"Die!" she yelled as she threw more spells. "Die! Die! DIE!"

A final, massive spell shot out of her horn and blasted Celestia into the ground, where she made a massive crater. Luna took a breath, before preparing to finish this mockery of her sister once and for all with a final, apocalyptic attack. Her horn glowed…

… and in a flash of light, she was in a completely different area, Discord letting go of her as he stepped back, his head turning in the direction the battle had flown after the Avatar's intervention.

"Foals!" Luna screamed. "I had her!"

"No," Discord replied. "You didn't. Amusing as watching you fly into tragic rage is, if you were thinking clearly you'd see she was bluffing you. You were angry, and that would make you easy to play. Celestia knows stimulus, and could try and play the events as if you were hers. And thus our plan, and by extension humanity's best chance, dies an ignominious death in Boston."

"What is thy plan?" the armoured human asked.

"To bring the aid of an unsullied Equus to humanity's aid, and destroy the… abomination... that has subsumed this version of my sister," Luna explained, still angry. "I could have had her!"

"Really though, you couldn’t," Discord said.

Luna snorted and said nothing else.

"How did you get involved with this conflict in the first place?" the Avatar asked with a slight frown.

"It would take too long to explain right now," Discord said with a sigh. "But everything's about how humans see us today. She ruins that, humanity's doomed." He glared at Luna. "Which, with your help, she nearly did."

Luna glowered at him.

"This Tyrant," the voice of the armoured human said grimly, "is a canny enemy. I am not surprised that she had some plan with which to doom you. Make no mistake, you were playing into her hands. Well. Hooves."

Luna scowled at this interloper. "And what do you know of her?!"

"I know the ways of Tyrants," the Avatar said, frowning at her. "And I know it will take more than one of us to beat her." His gaze flicked in the direction of the mad queen, and all three of them could sense that she had returned to full power. "We must be swift. Here is our plan…"

"Why should we listen to you?!" Luna said scathingly. "I know not what you are, but…"

"Because I have fought the forces of Tyrants and led men in battle against them for years," the Avatar cut her off, scowling at her in turn. "And because between the three of us, I am the only one who seems to have a plan beyond 'let us hit the Tyrant more and harder'."

Discord shrugged. "Got me there. I'm not a 'plan' type."

Luna cursed. Though she had led ponies in battle before, her recent actions, the things she had seen… well, it left her feeling somewhat lacking in plans. She could not argue this man's logic, despite how much she wished to.

"Very well then," she said quietly. "Speak."

The Avatar nodded, before looking at both of them. "Our ploy is this: first, we must draw her back to this field. We must lessen the collateral damage here, and make sure that no matter what, she and her armies do not leave this city. The presence of all three of us should do so alone if she displays any sense."

"Celly's crazy, but she isn't stupid," Discord agreed. "She has to realise we're the big threat."

"Then she might wish to avoid us," Luna pointed out.

"She is intelligent, but she is no coward," the Avatar said. "But in the event that she does not return, I shall use a powerful attack and some choice mockery to gain her attention. She may survive the strike with no fear, but she will not withstand mockery well."

"She is surprisingly thin-skinned," Discord noted. "Might be an inferiority complex of Tirek’s."

"What then?" Luna asked, ignoring the last comment.

The Avatar grinned. "Then we shall enact a classic: the Hammer and Anvil." He paused. "I am the Anvil. Princess, you are the Hammer. When she attacks me, I can - for the moment, at least - withstand most things she throws, but you must be swift in your strike. Aim to cripple her wings. Once you strike, if she is not crippled, that is our goal from that point. Once she is down, she will not prove so able to dodge the bite of Excalibur."

He hefted the blade as if to emphasise his point, a small grin on his face.

"So," Discord asked, folding his arms, "what do I do in this grand plan of yours?"

"You are something special: the Gnat," the Avatar said with a wry grin.

Discord raised an eyebrow. "Not the most flattering title I've had over the years."

"But a vital role - you must act if she is not crippled by the Hammer," the Avatar explained. "You will keep her off balance, and keep her here: this battle must stay in this place now. We have seen the destruction she can wreak. This world's warriors may be well equipped, but they are not yet prepared to face her."

"So I run interference and keep her in one place?" Discord summarised. The Avatar nodded, and Discord shrugged. "I've had worse jobs, and I can think of more than a few ways to keep her here."

"This may fail miserably," Luna pointed out.

"At which point we shall improvise," the Avatar replied as he held out his sword, wary of the quiet that settled in the area. "But it is better to have a plan that may fail than to simply engage in aimless conflict with no thought for the consequence. Prepare."

Luna nodded, melting into the shadows. Discord snapped a claw and disappeared in a flash, leaving the Avatar alone. He steeled himself, knowing that whatever happened now might decide this fight, one way or another.

"Tyrant!" he bellowed, aiming his blade in the direction the Tyrant had been blasted and sending a bolt of magic in her direction. "If thou art not a coward, come face thine death! Unless thou art willing to admit that a mere human has proven thy better!"

***

Celestia groaned slightly as she flew above the crater she had landed in. While Luna's attacks had done little to injure her, they had still been strong attacks, and she felt somewhat sore in several places. She frowned as she sensed the presence of Luna nearby, alongside the human magic-wielder and Discord.

"A trap?" she wondered aloud.

Suddenly, a bolt of magic lashed through the buildings. She dodged it, raising an eyebrow - there was no way they had thought that such a pitiful attack would reach her, let alone harm her.

"Tyrant!" she heard a voice yell. She turned to look back in the direction the voice was coming from, frowning as she realised that it was the human magic-wielder who was speaking. "If thou art not a coward, come face thine death! Unless thou art willing to admit that a mere human has proven thy better!"

There was a brief pause as Celestia registered the words he had just said. Some rational part of her knew he was baiting her, pushing buttons The rest of her, though, didn't care.

That… impudent… little… wretch. How dare he. How dare he. She snorted, rage building in her face. No human… no pitiful little monkey can best me! I will teach them humility, right before I TEAR THEM ALL APART!

With a snort of rage, she bolted off in the direction of the cry.

***

"That's done it," the Avatar said with a slight smile. "Right then."

He raised his sword into a high guard, bracing himself. A streak of golden light appeared in the distance, blasting its way through a building, shattering masonry and glass and heading straight for him. For a moment he wondered if this was a good idea.

'Of course it isn't,' he said to himself. 'But we'll do it anyway.'

The streak got closer to him, and he scowled, gritting his teeth for the inevitable impact.

And then a streak of blue light lashed out from his right, striking the living bolt of fiery light as it approached the Avatar and driving it into the ground to his left. He blinked, grinning as Princess Luna flew up, her horn glowing.

"A fine hit!" he called to her. She smirked.

There was a growl, and he turned to look as the Tyrant crawled out of the crater she had been blasted into.

Her eyes fixed on the Avatar. "You little inse -!"

She was cut off by something like two hundred and fifteen thousand fish falling on her from directly above her (give or take one or two). Discord was grinning from atop a salmon-coloured cloud.

"How's this?!" he called.

"Good!" the Avatar yelled, raising his sword. "But it will not hold her for lo-!"

A bolt of light shot up, obliterated the fish and annihilated Discord's cloud, blasting it into an expanding pale ring of steam. Discord dodged, scowling. A second bolt lashed out, and Luna was forced to raise a shield as it blew her backwards through the air. A third bolt of light was narrowly deflected by the Avatar's sword, though he was knocked off balance by the impact.

And then she emerged, her face twisted by hatred and her horn glowing. Discord floated away from her, scowling down at her as he held his arms at the ready to unleash more chaos. Luna landed next to the Avatar, her horn glowing. The Avatar himself pointed his blade at the Tyrant in challenge. The Tyrant herself growled, looking at each of them in turn with nothing but pure, unadulterated malice in her eyes.

"I am going to enjoy watching all of you die," she hissed. "I don't even care about how happy you'd be as my perfect little ponies, it'll be far more satisfying to see you all as red smears on the ground for how you've dared to inconvenience me!"

"Then by all means, Celestia the Tyrant Sun," the Avatar replied, bringing his sword to a high guard, "come at me."

***

Things were not going well for Corporal Quint Bouchard, U.S Marines. He'd thought the Fillydelphia had been his limit. Fighting PER and HLF all at once, while trying not to kill HLF who were supposedly on your side, while bombarded by an Imperial zep… well, suffice it to say, it had been a massacre.

And yet, right now, it was best not to imagine what he would have done or what he would have given to be back there at the Battle of the Fillydelphia.

Major Bauer, as the highest-ranking and most experienced PHL member, had sent out an order to retrieve every PHL weapon possible, including the ones that had been mothballed due to excess magic radiation. He'd been offered extra pay and rations, so he'd figured "Why not, what the hell?" and come out with a ton of mods for his Evangelizer. Well, technically an Evangelizer was an M25, but Evangelisto Morricone had gotten the name stuck in all their heads when he modded one with stasis grenades to literally drop pegasi from the sky.

"Change of plans!" Major Bauer yelled, stepping out from nearby. "The Doc here needs to move us around - we're forcing the Tyrant into a trap."

"Major," Quint said, breathless, realizing that both Aegis and Viktor Kraber were standing in behind of the man that currently held the PHL in his hands. "How the hell did you two get here?"

"TARDIS," Aegis said, shrugging as if that explained everything. "This other Doctor-"

Quint's eyes went wide as he stared into the TARDIS, realizing that the stallion inside had a red coat, an old patched leather coat, and a cutie mark of a broken hourglass. "How…"

"The three of us," Kraber said, "Are only slightly less in the dark than you. Well, I've got some fokkin' idea of what happened."

"Course you do," Quint sighed, "You're crazy."

"But I'm crazy pointed in the right direction!" Kraber said, practically beaming. "Come on, then - we haven't a fokkin moment to lose!"

With that, Quint and his scattered command funneled into the strange TARDIS, looking down at the unfamiliar Doctor. Quint had seen the TARDIS, once before. Or at least, he'd seen it on TV, and the interior of the Doctor's seemed to be more or less the same. He decided he was better off not questioning that.

But this one was… strange. It was cold and mechanical, as opposed to the organic aesthetic he'd expected. There were pillars that looked like the wooden poles one found at old docks poked through the floor at seemingly random intervals.

"Thanks," Quint breathed.

"Wait, aren't you from Elliot's world?" Kraber asked the older pony.

"Mentioned me, did he?" the old pony asked offhandedly as he pulled a lever.

"Yeah," Kraber said, frowning. "Hey, did -"

Before Kraber could finish what he was saying, he was interrupted.

"Here," Major Bauer said, passing a large .50 rifle to Kraber.

"The fok's this?"

"It's the DSR.50 rifle we were planning to use to kill the Tyrant," Bauer said, holding it by the barrel. Making very sure to keep his fingers off the trigger as he held it and slung it over his back, Kraber turned towards one of the walls. If gun safety was ever important, it was now.

"Not dad's old Mauser," Kraber said, inspecting the bolt. "But I'm not complaining."

"The 20mm was too heavy for us to carry," Bauer explained.

"I still say it would have helped. So," Kraber said, turning to the Doctor. "You just in the area?"

"Nothing so clean," the old pony replied absently. "Let's just say I'm running under a set of instructions from your Doctor."

"He never mentioned you," Bauer pointed out, frowning.

"That's because from your perspective, I haven't met him yet," the Doctor said with a smirk. "Time is not so linear as you might believe: it is more…"

"Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey?" Kraber asked. The Doctor scowled.

"Kindly don't talk like a child," he said. "We're working."

"He really is John Hurt," Aegis said with a wry grin.

The Doctor frowned, turning to Aegis with an incredulous look. "Who?"

***

Celestia’s horn flared again, and Luna found herself spinning out of control, before slamming into… a trampoline. She blew a stray bit of mane out of her face, and looked, to see Discord winking at her, before he snapped his claw - and suddenly, he was above Celestia’s head. Before she could react or even register his presence, he had summoned a giant polo mallet and slammed it into her skull, before bringing it down on top of her with a mighty crack. She pelted toward the ground, just in time for him to be waiting for her with another swing of his mallet, sending her back up, where the Avatar was waiting to shoulder her into a building. There was a great smashing of masonry, and for a moment all was still.

Discord flashed into existence next to the Avatar.

"Other side of the building," the armoured figure instructed him, and in a flash he was gone. The Avatar let out a breath.

Suddenly, a spell slammed into his back, throwing him through the building. Celestia floated down slowly from above where he had been, a cruel smirk on her face.

"MONSTER!" a scream came from below her, and she darted backwards, just as a spell shot through the space she had inhabited. She darted forwards, dodging another spell, and then raised a shield as Luna shot past her, firing more and more destructive spells as she went.

The Lunar Princess snorted as she faced the Solar Tyrant, their horns both glowing.

"What’s the matter, Little Moon?" Celestia asked coyly. "Don’t have the heart?"

"No," Luna said in reply. "Just waiting."

"For what?" Celestia asked, frowning slightly. "Some miracle? I’m afraid there’s none coming for y-"

And then a pumpkin smashed into her head, covering her face. At that precise moment, Luna threw a spell clean at her, which smashed into her and threw her into another building.

"For that," Luna said. She looked up at Discord, who winked, before flashing out of existence again.

The Avatar floated out of the wrecked building behind her, a cut above his eyebrow already fading in a flash of golden light. Discord flashed into existence next to them, his arms folded.

"She’s not dead yet," Luna commented.

"Of course she isn’t," the Avatar said quietly.

"Why is it never that easy?" Discord sighed.

"Because life chooses to test us," the Avatar said grimly. "And there’s no such thing as an easy test worth its salt."

"That… doesn’t help," Discord said.

"I know," the Avatar grinned. "But take heart - there must be some limit she will reach soon."

"We hope," Discord muttered, before flashing out of existence again, presumably to make sure Celestia was contained.

"Do you think we can win this?" Luna asked. "She seems… tough."

The Avatar raised an eyebrow at her choice of words, and she shrugged, before floating higher. He began floating down towards the ground, hoping to cover their bases - only for a spell to shoot past him, narrowly missing him. A blur of white fur slammed into him and knocked him ten feet backwards, and he was forced to fly upwards to dodge another spell that sheared the building behind him in two down the middle.

"Oh, stop dodging!" the Tyrant yelled with a mad grin on her face. "I promise you, the sweet release of obliteration is mercy compared to what I could d-!"

A hail of small, green, round objects started smashing into her, moving at what must have been the speed of sound, smacking into her like giant hailstones. She growled, raising a shield, as Discord - carrying what might have been a minigun, save for its ammunition - floated back into position.

"You were saying?!" he called over to her. "I can’t hear you over the sound of my balls smacking into your face!"

He grinned as the balls kept slamming into her shield. The Avatar raised Excalibur in a two-handed grip and aimed it at her, a flash of energy also slamming into the shield, but it held against it.

"Your jokes seem to fall a little flat, Discord!" she chuckled. "Surely you can do better?!"

"If you insist," the Draconequus said with narrowed eyes, before reaching a hand over and flicking what might have been a toggle on his minigun. The balls stopped, and then suddenly started again, only this time they were slightly larger, and black… and hissing. Celestia frowned in confusion for a moment, before suddenly there was a flashing of light as dozens of the balls exploded at once, and more exploded seconds later, until the sky surrounding the Tyrant was nothing but a blaze of explosions.

The Avatar grimaced, before raising Excalibur. They weren’t done yet.

From within the hail of explosions, a spell flashed out, blowing the minigun away. Discord blinked in shock, before a second spell slammed into him, smashing him through what was left of the building behind him. The Avatar grimaced as another spell shot towards him, and he brought Excalibur to block it, the spell smashing into the blade. He was blown backwards, but managed to control his velocity, before growling and charging straight at her. He swung his weapon, but she dodged beneath him, throwing another spell that threw him into the air.

Even as he flew upwards, however, the blue form of Luna flew past him, barrelling into the Tyrant and throwing her towards the ground.

"Come on!" the Lunar Diarch screamed. Her horn flashed, and another spell followed the Tyrant, slamming into her and blasting the masonry around her to ash and rubble.

"What are you two waiting for?!" she yelled to Discord and the Avatar, who shared a glance as she flew towards her prey.

"Well," Discord said with a shrug, "you heard the lady."

***

It was at this point that Quint probably would have sold his soul to be back at the Battle of the Fillydelphia. Still, his sister had said, when warning him about the super-newfoals advancing through Quebec, "When you're going through hell, keep going."

So that was what he was gonna do.

Keep going.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked.

"Hit the Tyrant with everything you have," the Major said, as the doors opened and everyone but him and the Doctor rushed out. The doors closed behind them.

"Any explanation yet, sarge?!" Garcia yelled, struggling to make herself heard over the roar of battle all around.

"Explain later, shoot the kontgesigs now!" Kraber yelled. "And make sure I can get a clear shot at the fokkin' Tyrant! We didn't make enough of the damn alicorn-killers!" He sighed. "What I wouldn't give for an M2 and a belt of these… Aegis will keep his Thunderclap concentrated on her shield , which might weaken it just a bit."

"If the shield starts to wobble, hit it with everything you have!" Aegis added.

"Sounds doable," Quint said. "I think she's c-"

The top half of a building exploded, crashing to the ground just in front of them.

"Jesus Christ," Quint breathed.

There was a massive hole in the building, though. Something was making its way out, cracks spreading outwards.

And then the Tyrant exploded outwards, flying up.

"She's too fokkin fast!" Kraber yelled. "Can't get a clear shot with the DSR!"

Every human or pony in the squad opened fire, with Tempest flying upwards at speeds that would do Rainbow Dash proud, firing off the light machineguns in her assault yoke in the general direction of the Tyrant, making sure to avoid the .338 rounds from Kraber's LMG.

"Keep clear, Tempest!" Kraber yelled, and a burst of electricity lanced out from his MG2023, and for a moment, Celestia's shield was destabilized, and some of the bullets from Tempest, from Garcia, from the LMG Aegis had mounted alongside his thunderclap… all of them hit.

But the wounds healed near-instantly. The Tyrant Sun didn't even seem to notice. That said, Quint's Evangelizer did seem to vaguely irritate her-

One of her hind legs dragging slightly through the air, a slight wobble in her flight path…

"Stasis grenade!" Quint yelled, as if he suddenly held the fate of the world in his hands. "Of course! Stabsunteroffizier, I have an idea. You ever played Evolve?"

"That game where you chase a giant monster?" Kraber asked, a smile.

"You damn right," Aegis said. "What I wouldn't give for a mobile arena…"

He and Kraber looked at Quint's Evangelizer.

"Sonovabitch," they said at once.

"I think I have a plan," Kraber said with a smile. "Tempest? Get up in the air. Look for the destruction and point us in that direction. When you're going to drop them, give us a signal. We'll try and surround her. Aegis, keep that Thunderclap charged. Anyone else, if you have a BFG, anything explosive, train it on Celestia. I'll get in contact with Elliot, Luna, or Discord, make sure they can take advantage of the lull."

"How the hell are you going to do that?"

"Ask politely?" Kraber said.

***

"We're here!" the old pony - somehow Stephan still had trouble thinking of him as 'the Doctor' - yelled. "You need to get out there now!"

Stephan nodded without replying, his machete already drawn and transforming into a claymore again as he moved for the TARDIS' doors. The old pony was already flipping levers.

And then Stephan stepped outside into a war zone.

"Scheiße," he swore, eyes widening at the destruction. The entire area was nothing but the skeletons of buildings and grey and brown rubble, and in the centre of it all was a melee the likes of which Stephan had rarely seen. Behind him he heard the TARDIS dematerialise.

The Tyrant was in the centre of a storm of luminous blue spells being thrown from the horn of Princess Luna, and it was all she could do to shield from them while she dodged the swings of the armoured figure Elliot had transformed into, the man not managing to hit the Tyrant, but the Tyrant not able to keep away from the man before Luna's attacks. Above this fray was Discord, watching the swirling fight like a hawk.

As Stephan watched, a hail of what looked like swordfish appeared all around the Lord of Chaos: just as the Tyrant sent a spell that blasted the armoured figure back toward Stephan's position and created a shockwave that threw Luna away from her, the Draconequus made a gesture and the swordfish flew straight at the Tyrant, who disintegrated them with a flash of magic but was not prepared for Luna's return, heralded by a massive spell that blasted her into the ground.

"Major Bauer," a familiar voice said, and Stephan turned to see the armoured figure standing near him, wiping blood from his mouth. "'Tis good to see thee alive, though thine wisdom in coming here is… questionable, at best."

"That you, Elliot?" Bauer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In point of fact, it is," the figure replied, "though in this form I am more commonly called ‘The Avatar’."

"The Avatar of Albion, you said," Stephan remembered.

"Aye," the Avatar said. He paused, scowling at the fray. "The Tyrant is proving tougher than I thought. I had expected the power of myself, the creature Discord and the Night Princess to be sufficient, but…"

As he spoke, Celestia flew up from her landing place in the crater, her horn flaring and a spell lashing out at Discord, who blocked it with a sudden hole in reality, a similar hole appearing behind the Tyrant and disgorging the same spell, throwing her back into the ground. Luna threw more spells, and as Stephan watched, the Avatar threw his own barrage at the Tyrant, his sword glowing and shooting arcing beams of light.

Undeterred, the Tyrant burst out again, barreling into Luna and bearing her upward. The Avatar scowled.

"Discord!" he yelled.

"Containment, I know!" the Draconequus yelled, sounding harried. "On it!"

He snapped a claw and vanished, and the Avatar began jogging back toward the fray. Stephan followed him.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked.

"The plan was to cripple the Tyrant before eliminating her with a more powerful strike," the Avatar said with a frown. "But crippling her is proving more troublesome than I would have liked. She does not stay still long enough, and nothing we do can keep her."

"Might be able to help with that," a new, familiar voice said on Stephan's radio.

"Kraber?!" Stephan said in disbelief. "Where the hell are you? Where'd the Doctor drop you?!"

"Me and Aegis are near the fight!" the Afrikaner replied. "Near enough that we got a few shots off, not that we did much fokkin' good - what's that bliksem made of?!"

"Canst thou weapons deal damage to the Alicorn?" the Avatar asked before Bauer could say anything.

"… Elliot? That you?" Kraber asked, sounding bemused.

"Yes, Viktor Kraber, tis I," the Avatar replied. "Answer my question, friend. Canst thou weapons deal damage to the Tyrant? I know such weapons are available to thine fellows."

"Well of fokkin' course I brought a gun that can hurt Alicorns. I'm bosbefok, not fokking stupid," Kraber said.

"It's a DSR.50 - anti-Alicorn weapon," Stephan clarified.

The Avatar grinned. "Make all haste, friend. 'Bosbefok' or not, we shall need everything." He turned to Stephan, suddenly frowning. "Apologies - he is thine soldier."

"Do as he says, Kraber," Stephan said with a wry grin. "He might be insane, but I think he's right."

"Gotcha. Be there ASAP."

The Avatar raised an eyebrow. "I have been called many things. Insane is not one of them."

"You're fighting the Tyrant with a sword," Stephan pointed out.

The Avatar clanged his sword against Stephan's claymore with a raised eyebrow. There was a spark of energy discharge. Stephan grinned.

"Ok, maybe we're both insane," he said. "Anyway - when the Tyrant reappears, we should -"

"At this point, if I may interrupt our size-comparison humour," Kraber interrupted with a chuckle, "may I respectfully request permission to shoot that fokking bitch with every bullet I have? Besides, you're thinking of it wrong. Both of you."

"What dost thou mean?" the Avatar asked.

"At this point, bosbefok is a survival trait," Kraber said.

Stephan frowned as he saw the form of Discord crashing to the ground, making another crater. The Avatar turned to look at the impact, a scowl on his face.

"It's gonna be hard getting her to stand still," Stephan commented. "Anti-Alicorn ammo doesn't do jack if it misses."

"Wait. Got an idea," Kraber interrupted. "Does anyone have a Thunderclap, a PEPS or stasis explosives? Quint nailed her with the Evangelizer and slowed her for a second or three, so I'm thinking we need to hit her with a lot."

"Might not help, but it's something," Aegis cut in. "It'll probably just piss her off."

"She's already fokkin’ woedend!" Kraber added.

"I'll send pegasi to get them from HQ," Stephan said. "It's at least worth a shot."

"We must cripple her first," the Avatar said, turning back to Stephan. "But the task has proven arduous…"

Stephan blinked, an idea forming in his head. He tapped his radio.

"Cheerilee," he said, "can you hear me?"

There was a momentary pause before he got a reply. "Stephan? What's going on down there? We're getting a fragmentary read on you at best."

"There's no time," Stephan said. "Is the Doctor there?"

"The Doctor?" Cheerilee repeated. "Yes, but he's…"

"Get him to my location, stat," Stephan said quickly. "I'll need his help -"

"Actually, sir," Kraber's voice cut in, "you won't. Pony John Hurt just got back -"

"Would you not call me that?" said another British-accented voice, one very familiar to the Avatar.

"It's not my fault you look like John Hurt," Kraber said. "And I've got an idea - we could ask him to ferry people all over the battlefield -"

"I'm not sure I appreciate her being used that way," the Pony John Hurt said, "but the world could very well end right now. Can't complain that much."

"It is you," the Avatar said, eyes wide and a grin on his face. "How went the battle in London?"

"We'll have time to go into that later," the Doctor said. "Suffice to say… they're worried about you. Trying to pick a new Avatar."

The Avatar scowled. "Blast it. Let them know I'm alive as soon as I can."

Stephan grinned. "Him being near is even better. Get him back here ASAP."

"He's already on his way," Kraber replied.

"When he gets here, we’ll have a fighting chance," Stephan said with a grin.

"Whatever your plan is," the Avatar said, his gaze once more turned on the fight - Luna and Celestia were grappling in mid-air, their horns flashing as they dueled, "attend to it quickly, my friend. I must aid my compatriots."

"I was planning on 'bombard her with stasis and PEPS weaponry,'" Kraber said. "Then we hit her with everything we have. Then Elliot goes in and slices her to fokkin' pieces. Then I use the DSR." He paused. "Okay, so I know we can't have a 20mm, but couldn't we have made m-"

Ignoring that, the Avatar moved his sword to his left hand and charged in the direction of the fight, just as Luna was blasted away - he leapt, the force of the jump carrying him into the air and allowing him to impact the Tyrant and throw her into the skeleton of a building, the armoured figure impacting a few moments later.

A moment later, the wheezing, groaning sound of a TARDIS materialising sounded behind Stephan, and he turned with a grin to see the old pony there.

"I believe you wanted my aid?" he asked tiredly.

"As a matter of fact," Stephan said, grinning, "I do."

***

The Avatar slammed into the ground, wincing as he impacted and rolled.

"Damnation!" he swore, looking up at the Tyrant. A moment later, Luna landed near him, and Discord continued to float near their heads.

"I am starting to get sick of this bitch," Luna swore, scowling.

"You and me both," Discord added, rolling his neck with an audible popping sound. "Hey, knight boy, if you have any plans, now's the time."

"I have one," the Avatar replied with a grimace. "I can try and summon enough power to strike her down properly. All I will need is time."

"Time?" Discord said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't know if you noticed, but…"

"Are you debating which of you gets to die next?" the Tyrant interrupted.

"You'll have your time," Luna snarled. "This whorse is going to die!"

A moment later she shot off, her horn glowing as she fired off spell after spell. Discord shrugged and chased after her, his claw snapping as he summoned a variety of rather esoteric looking brass flying machines with red lights like little eyes shining in their chassis'.

The Avatar smirked. That one might be insane, but it is a useful insanity.

He looked to Excalibur, frowning in concentration.

Blade of Arthur, thou hast served me well and righteously, he thought softly. Now I ask that you grant me strength enough for this. The Tyrant Sun must die, and she must die now. Thou art the blade of a king, and that king was the hope of his kind as I am the hope of mine. Let me shoulder that burden well. Lend me strength.

The blade began glowing, softly at first but then brighter, the intensity only growing as the Avatar moved it to a two handed grip, before holding it in a high guard over his head, his eyes closing for a moment.

For True Grit, for Lyra Heartstrings, for John Constantine, and for all those who have suffered at the hands of the Tyrant Sun.

He opened his eyes as the power began building up. Up in the sky he saw her, the Tyrant Sun, once more grappling with Luna. He grinned viciously. Now is your time to die, demon.

And then she looked right at him.

His eyes widened in surprise as her horn flashed, batting Luna away like nothing and then blasting Discord to the ground. She began hurtling at him at breakneck speeds, and he grimaced - he had only moments.

"NOW!" Kraber yelled, and suddenly the world became explosions. A pegasus, somehow carrying a huge cart behind her, flew over the Tyrant sun, the cart detaching and dropping onto her head, a massive blue-white corona enveloping the Tyrant.

Pink, blue, and red pulses, almost blinding, suddenly eclipsed her. The Avatar squinted, watching in awe as human weapons and unicorn magic unleashed their all on the Tyrant. Nearby unicorns From what he could see, her movement had been slowed to a crawl, an almost comical expression of slowly dawning realization written on her face.

It was interspersed with bullets as well - the Avatar could see Kraber standing just off to the side, firing a huge Kalashnikov from somewhere with an odd device reminiscent of a grenade launcher mounted underneath, spitting out waves of something somewhere on the spectrum from red to pink to white, exploding against the Tyrant.

Neither he, nor the Tyrant, had noticed the blue box appearing above the battle, however…

***

Stephan held his claymore in a two handed grip as the old pony worked the controls of his machine, flipping levers. He'd had to endure some minor complaining about 'the TARDIS is not a taxi service', but once he had explained his plan the Doctor seemed eager to help. Well, slightly less crotchety about helping, anyway.

"The moment we materialise, jump," he said. "I cannot guarantee you will hit her otherwise!"

"I understand," Stephan said quietly. "Wish me luck, Doc."

"I wish you success," the old pony replied with a wry grin. "And don't call me 'Doc'."

There was a slow groaning, and suddenly a loud thump reverberated through the room, and the old pony flipped another lever.

"Now!" he yelled.

Stephan immediately threw the door open, looked outside, and then, praying this would work, jumped.

He was almost ten storeys up, and there she was, hurtling past him. The entire world felt almost like it was running in slow motion - he brought the blade up, his stomach feeling like there was no gravity in the world. Her neck was outstretched, right there, right there...

And suddenly her eyes flicked to him. She flapped her wings, trying to dodge, and his blade swept out in a desperate flail as he tried to hit her. There was the sound of flesh tearing, a scream of agony, and then he was past her, aiming at the nearby window of one of the ruined buildings…

Flash.

He smashed through the window, and landed in… a pile of pillows. He groaned - the impact had still been hard, but the fall hadn't been fatal.

"W-what?" he murmured, looking around at the veritable cloud of fluffy white feathers that had exploded outwards.

Discord was standing near him, looking battered as all hell, but smiling.

"Happy landings?" he asked.

***

From the outside, it looked like this.

The box had materialised above where Celestia's path was, and out from it had leapt the armoured form of Stephan Bauer. Though his initial aim had apparently been a vertical decapitation blow, he had switched to a horizontal lash the moment the Tyrant had noticed him, the entire thing happening almost too quickly to see. Though he had failed to kill her - the speed of events too quick and his enemy too fast and too clever - he had hit her.

A white wing impacted the ground with a dull thud, completely unnoticed due to the rather more impressive spectacle of the Tyrant herself smashing into the ground with a mighty crash. The Avatar, watching the entire thing, could only marvel at this stroke of events.

Stephan Bauer, you may have just won your war, he thought with a grin. The energy he was mustering was almost ready, and now she was grounded, the Tyrant Sun would not be an issue. She could still run, probably, but she'd be easier to track.

There was a sudden explosion of energy less than thirty metres from the Avatar's position, and the Tyrant appeared, grounded, but furious. Making matters worse was the fact that the humans and ponies under Kraber's command appeared to have run out of whatever they were using to slow her down.

'Oh,' the Avatar thought. 'This… might be an issue.'

She began stalking toward him, her horn glowing with power as she gave him a look promising death. Luna had yet to reappear and Discord was also absent, and so the Avatar was facing her alone. He estimated that she would attack in seconds - and he needed more time to gather his energy to guarantee her defeat.

"Hey, kontgesig!" a voice suddenly called out. "Dodge this!"

A single gunshot cracked, and there was a massive spurt of blood from the Tyrant's leg, which was almost severed by the blow itself. She stumbled, before collapsing, her horn's power dissipating as she looked up at the Avatar with wide, surprised eyes. She was trying to knit it back together, but something was disrupting the power.

In that second, another bullet - no, two bullets, only one man would be that intent on firing that much at her - slammed into her barrel, blood blossoming outwards.

And now he knew his time had come. A machinegun roared, bullets punching into her barrel, first bruising the flesh under fur, then letting blood out in a veritable torrent.

"Come on, JOU FOKKIN KONTGESIG!" Kraber screamed. "IS THE FOKKEN VARKNAAIER THAT TELLS PEOPLE TO ZOMBIFY CHILDREN REALLY SUCH A FOKKIN MOEGOE?!"

"You… you humans!" the Tyrant screamed, as if that last word was the worst offense she could manage, staggering under the fire. "You un-equestrians, you dirty apes! YOU'RE DISGUSTING!"

"I think they prefer revolting," Aegis said, and lightning lanced out from a nearby building, arcs of electricity jumping all across the Tyrant Sun's body. "Get her now, Elliot!"

"For vengeance!" the Avatar called out, bringing the sword Excalibur down in a massive arc and aiming it right at her.

A golden burst of energy, more powerful than any he had previously employed, burst from the blade and streaked towards the immobile Tyrant Sun, tearing the ground up as it did so. For a single moment, he saw her face morph from rage to pure shock at the power unleashed at her, nearly at point blank range. Seconds later it smashed into her, and she was borne backwards with it, smashing through a building and out through the other side into another street with a mighty crash. Whatever energy was left exploded, destroying the surrounding area with the Tyrant in the center of the destruction. The force of the explosion shattered stone and concrete closest to the blast, while vehicles were tossed aside as if they were toys. The Avatar raised his sword as the wind carrying debris and dust rushed towards him, nearly knocking him down by the force alone. Through the haze, a golden light rose from the epicenter towards the heavens, parting the magical night sky of Luna's.

The Avatar slowly lowered Excalibur, breathing out slightly, a triumphant smile on his face.

"That…" he said slowly, "was for Lyra Heartstrings, True Grit, Sam Lake, all the lives that thou hast ended… and for me. Definitely for me."

He staggered slightly, but refused to let go of himself yet. She wasn't dead until he saw her corpse.

"Sir knight!" a voice called. He looked up, to see a battered and bruised Luna descending. "Is it done?"

"The Tyrant is down," the Avatar replied, "but I would hesitate to count her defeated yet."

"A wise policy," the voice of Discord sounded, as he and Stephan appeared in a flash of light. The armoured man looked battered and bruised, but not as badly off as he could have been given the circumstances.

"If you're going to finish her off," Stephan said, "I'm coming too. We owe that bitch."

"I would have it no other way," the Avatar said with a grin.

"We're coming too!" a familiar voice added, as Aegis and Kraber jogged up to the group, Kraber looking battered but elated and Aegis wearing a triumphant smile.

"I'm not fokking missing this," Kraber added with a grin.

The Avatar nodded, before turning in the direction the Tyrant had been blasted.

"Let us finish this."

***

She lay in the dirt before him, coughing slightly, blood leaking from one side of her mouth. She looked up at him as he marched toward her, and smiled. She was covered in wounds, most inflicted by the final attack, but many the result of the long battle.

The Avatar marched ahead of the rest of the group, the blade still shining in his hand, the bloodstains on the blade not dimming that damnable radiant metal. The others were hanging back, whether out of fear of her or fear of him she could not tell. Maybe neither. Maybe both.

"Fok," Kraber said, looking at her with wide eyes and an even wider smile on his face. "We really did a number on her!"

"Took enough time and energy," Stephan commented.

“Fools," she murmured weakly as they approached. "Do you think you have won a victory here?"

The Avatar scowled at her, staying ahead of the others.

"Save your last breath, Tyrant," he snapped, eyes narrowed in hatred. "Thou hast no words that can sway me from my course."

For a long moment, she stared at the ground and ignored them while taking deep heaving breaths. She took a deep breath and let out a single bark of laughter. "Ha!"

"Have I amused you?" the Avatar asked.

"You… you have no idea…" the Tyrant chuckled. "You… you have only delayed… the inevitable… and I… I don’t need to ‘sway’ you, foolish knight, for I have already won. And you will beg at my feet before the end."

"That," the Avatar promised, "is something you will never live to see, Sun Tyrant. You die here."

"My dear Knight," the Tyrant said, taking a deep breath as she smiled up at him, "I have only just begun to fight here. You humans, always with your weapons and tricks. I was content to let the barrier do the work for me, but you stopped that… and so now I have to personally intervene."

"Yeah, that went real fokkin' well, didn't it?" Kraber commented.

"Ah yes, the mad Afrikaner pyschopath, Viktor Kraber." Celestia turn to him, smiling. "The one who got himself classified a cognitohazard. What joys your soul will bring me when it is screaming for release."

"You are in no position for threats," Stephan growled, turning his head at the sound of numerous troops beginning to arrive. "You are surrounded, weak, and crippled. And we're not taking prisoners."

"Even if we were," Aegis added, "I think one of us might – what’s the old saying? ‘Lose our grip on the stairs’. With extreme fucking prejudice."

As he said this, troops began to file out, coming from across the city, slowly surrounding the broken Alicorn, their weapons raised. The Avatar looked around to see so many people; humans, ponies, griffons, and even Diamond Dogs. An impressive sight to behold, especially with their current weapons on hand.

"We’ve won, bitch," Kraber said simply.

"Whatever insanity has gripped you, Celestia the Tyrant Sun," the Avatar added, aiming his blade at her with a grin, "you are about to die. There are no words, no mockeries, to save you from that."

"Oh… but there, little Knight, I fear you are mistaken," she replied slowly. The Tyrant sat down as best she can, ignoring the weapons trained on her. "Really, all this effort for a simple golem, an…" She looked to the Avatar in the eyes, a vicious smile on her face. "Avatar."

The Avatar stopped dead, eyes widening. Behind him, the others had their own reactions, most looking surprised and shocked.

"What the fok?" Kraber murmured. "What the fokking hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"Well, Discord?" the Tyrant asked, turning to the battered, slowly healing Draconequus. "Should I tell them, or should you?"

"What are you talking about?" Discord scowled, grabbing her mane and staring her down. "I will break that little mind of yours before… you… no. That…"

"Discord?" Luna took a step forward, only to nearly back track as Discord punched the Tyrant in the face with enough force to crater the ground from the impact. "Discord?!"

"A LIE!? We've been fighting a lie?!" Discord roared, stomping on the down body with anger, pulled away by the combine efforts of the Avatar and Luna. "You conniving BITCH! You can't even face us yourself!"

"Lord Discord!" the Avatar snapped. "Explain this creature's words and calm thyself!"

"No need, I will explain myself," the Tyrant said with a chuckle. "This is a clone of me, created by the magic of the mirror pool."

She was grinning now, despite the bruises and other injuries Discord had added to her somewhat impressive collection. The Avatar growled at her words, and none of the others looked any happier.

"This body… is only an Avatar itself," she continued, breathing heavily. "A puppet controlled by me the same way I control my sun. Equestria is filled with wonders you will never live to see, humans. Wonders my… wayward subjects… forsook to help you in your hopeless cause."

"’Wayward’, huh?" Aegis asked with a toneless voice. "I’ll show you fucking wayward –"

"Be calm," the Avatar said grimly. "She is trying to provoke you."

"We’re way past ‘provoked’," Aegis said. "This bitch -"

"Let it go, bru," Kraber said quietly.

"Discord told me of a certain Mirror Pool he created when he was younger, before he fell in line for the cause," Celestia said quietly, still grinning wickedly at them all. She looked from one to the other. "You really didn't believe that I would show up by myself, did you? You truly believe I would show up in a city… without my armies at my back? How stupid you must really be." She rotated to face Kraber. "Viktor Kraber… I wonder how your children are. Oh, wait. They are my subjects now… is that correct?"

"…Don't you… fokking dare… speak about my CHILDREN!" Kraber yelled, shaking.

The Tyrant smiled at Kraber's outburst. "Don't worry. I assure you, they're doing just fine in the Canterlot Academy. I could help you to visit them. You daughter would be so happy to see her daddy again…. but she thinks you'd be a better father with hooves. Possibly fur? You indeed know, like how you would have with those costumes you bought for their birthday-"

"Don't… don't you…" Kraber trembled, the MG2019 shaking in his hands. "WHEN I MEET THE REAL YOU, I'M GONNA RIP OFF HER HORN AND PISS IN HER SKULL! AND-"

"Easy!" Aegis yelled. "For the love of God, calm down! She's trying to use you!" He paused. "Goddamn. She tried using us both. Goddamn this… bitch."

"My plan would have succeeded, if it wasn't for that interloper," the Queen gurgled. She cackled slightly, blood bubbling up. The Avatar scowled at her, and she pushed herself to stand up, her horn crackling with what little power was left in this battered and broken flesh marionette.

"How does it feel, to have wasted so much power, so much rage, on nought but a child's toy?" she asked, now frothing slightly at the mouth. "Tell me, how does that feel, to be denied the vengeance you wax lyrical about?!"

The Avatar said nothing until he had moved to stand before her, about three feet from her face. He raised the sword slightly in his hand.

"This is thee, though, is it not?" he asked quietly, his voice ice that almost froze the heart of everyone around him. "Thine mind, projected into this body. Thou feels what it feels. Thou seest what it sees. Thou shalt remember this battle as if thou had stood here thineself, or there would be no point to it."

She cackled. "I will remember your face when I told you the truth. I will remember your fire, and I will laugh when I crush it beneath me."

"Then remember this, Tyrant," he said, snarling. "And know it is but a taste of that which I shall unleash upon thee when we meet next!"

And with that, he jumped forward, bringing the blade to bear. The first blow was blocked by a weak shield, rebounding, but he spun around with the momentum of the rebound and hacked at her other side, driving her to the ground as she struggled to keep her shield up. He followed this with first one, then another, then a third overhand blow, each one hammering away at the shield and then he pulled back, before stabbing forward with the blade, cracking the shield and shattering the magic into a million pieces before driving the blade into her chest.

"Thou… cowardly… WRETCH!" the Avatar yelled. "Thou sits behind a barrier and watches thine enemies fall, and thou canst not even face them with dignity! Thou art the basest creature in existence, and I will destroy you for your evils!"

Incredibly, she still smiled, even as she coughed out her last breaths.

"I am coming… you have finally gain my attention… Prepare for my… arrival. The end of Humanity comes…" She gave him a bright smile, even with the blows against her face. "And you will all be… happy… little… ponies."

"Shut up… you… you perversion of my sister!" Luna yelled. "You're a joke, Tyrant Sun! If you win, you have billions of starving zombies, all telling you you're so brilliant you couldn't so even be failing them and starving them, so then, you lose as you sit on a throne over automatons too stupid to know what's been done to them, giggling about your insipid pyrrhic victory. And when you lose to us, you won't be remembered as a savior. Your cause… nay, everything about you will be hijacked so you serve no purpose but to be an abomination. Everything about you will be dragged through the muck! You'll be the punchline of hundreds of stories where you serve no other purpose than to be viciously deconstructed, for everything from magic to science beating you, where your empire built on the backs and perversions of our dead friends and family crumbles into the abyss. You will lose, no matter what!"

"Do you think I care about them, when I can get so… much more." Celestia gasped, her face twisting into a deranged smile. "The multiverse… is so vast. So many out there, believing they are strong. But when I come… they will be nothing… against me. Nothing… can stop me."

The Avatar growled, and then he roared.

"No. No!" he yelled. "You will not achieve victory here! Mankind will not fall! When you come, you will come to DIE! I WILL TEAR YOUR BLACKENED HEART OUT, DEMON-SPAWN!"

He released the hilt, letting the ornate sword jut from between her ribs, and bringing his left gauntleted fist to bear, he punched her in the face.

"Your evils will end!"

One blow. Two. The skull began to give and the flesh tore, leaving bruises, and any semblance of resistance left the Alicorn's body. Three blows. Four. Five.

"And if it takes every iota of strength I possess, even if it kills me, I. Will. Crush. Your. Skull. In. My. HANDS!"

Her eye ruptured, spewing blood and other liquids. A fourth blow, and the gauntleted fist smashed through the bone, pulverising brain matter.

"Just… like… THIS!"

Bringing his right fist up, he punched the other side of the now dead Tyrant's head, embedding his right hand alongside the left, and with a yell of effort, he pulled, spreading his arms wide and causing the skull to explode outward, showering the surrounding ground with the remains of the clone's skull, brain, flesh and teeth.

The headless corpse slumped to the ground, and the Avatar staggered back slightly, eyes wide. Spitting on the corpse, he grabbed Excalibur and pulled it out of her, before embedding the blade in the ground, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily.

"Never seen anything like it," Aegis breathed. "Viktor, please don't tell me you have."

"No, no, this is still kind of a new one…" Kraber whispered.

The Avatar ignored them both, still panting.

"Elliot?" Stephan asked, frowning. "Avatar? Are you… alright?"

The Avatar took another breath, before turning to look at Stephan and the others.

"This one is dead," he said quietly. "'Twas a hard fight, but a well fought one, friends. We should be… proud…"

"Now if you'll excuse me," Kraber said, finding a large enough piece of the tyrant's skull on the ground, "I have go take a piss."

"Viktor, no," Aegis groaned.

"What?" Kraber asked. "I told her I was gonna do i-"

Before he could finish, Elliot's armour dissipated into nothing, revealing the leather coated form of a man, pale and sweating. He coughed, his hand releasing Excalibur as it, too, dissolved, and he collapsed to his knees, blood splattering over his hand as he retched red-streaked vomit.

"Fok!" Kraber yelled, racing forward. "Elliot!"

The Avatar didn't answer, and a moment later he fell forward, Kraber catching him.

Discord came up to, eyebrows raised at the sight of the unconscious man. He turned to look at Luna, then at Stephan.

"Ok," the Draconequus said. "Where'd this guy come from?"

"If I had to make a guess," Aegis said, "A parallel Britain where something pretty similar to what happened in this world happened, with Arthurian magic and everything."

"It makes perfect sense," Kraber nodded sagely. "He's probably imbued with all the magic of Britain. Fok. Think I might have broke something. Verdant, Sharp Horn? Need you to lift him u-"

"There is no need," Princess Luna said. "I can do so. But…" she looked at the two unicorns that had been about to obey Kraber's order. "It has been a long battle. I will not complain of your help."

Discord blinked, still processing Aegis and Kraber's comments.

"Ok," he said softly. "WHAT?!"

***

Into The Mirror

Chapter Five: Into the Mirror.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R

Editors:
TheIdiot.
redskin122004,
The Void,
RoyalPsycho

This chapter also contains direct segments used in the chapter Trust from The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum. Don't worry though - the butterfly's wings are flapping as hard as they can…

***

Einstein: "Every wormhole system has millions of exits - each to a distinct time and place. Travel from A to B - now attempt to travel back. You could arrive at point A immediately after you left, or a cycle later, or a cycle earlier, or 10 or 10,000 or… millions of permutations."
John: The secret… is understanding time.
Einstein: Not so much understanding as accounting for. Unskilled wanderings create… unrealized realities.
John Crichton and Einstein, Farscape: Unrealized Reality.

"Every single decision we make creates a parallel existence."
The Tenth Doctor, Doctor Who: Doomsday.

***

Scottish Archives, February 10th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Strapped into a harness and tensed slightly, Eric Smith closed his eyes as the first injections pierced his flesh, wincing as the liquid began pouring through his body. At the same time, an older man with a large, leather bound tome in one hand, wearing a suit and spindly glasses, held up a hand and began chanting.

"Strength of body, strength of will, strength of arms, strength of conviction…"

It was supposed to be the implementation of spells that would augment his mind and body, in the same way the hormone therapies were doing so in the injections he was receiving. To his mind though, this was more than simply a process of magic and science.

This was a culmination.

He had been blessed by the Avatar of Albion a long time ago, but the Avatar was missing in action, presumed to have gone to Equestria to battle Astra Solamina. In his absence, Eric believed… no, he knew that it was his duty, and the duty of his knights, to step up and defend the people of Britain, however they could.

That was why he was here.

"Strength of body, strength of will, strength of arms, strength of conviction…"

My convictions have never wavered, Eric thought to himself. And neither my will. I will not fail. When the Avatar returns, we will stand by his side.

"Sir Eric?"

He opened his eyes, blinking and frowning. When he had closed his eyes he had been strapped into a harness. Now he found himself in a bed. He sat up, blinking once.

"What is this?" he asked. "Where am I?"

"Ahem," a voice said. He turned, to see a green female pony doctor looking at him, smiling softly. "I'm Dr. Well Being, chief of the Iron Clad program's medical section. You've been under for five hours."

"Five hours?" Eric asked, eyes wide. "I cannot be asleep for five hours, I have -!"

"I'm happy to report," Being said, cutting him off, "that the procedure was a complete success."

Eric frowned, before standing up. He was in a simple hospital gown, but he felt… different. He had never been particularly skinny - he prided himself on having been muscular - but he felt different. He looked up at a nearby mirror in the hospital room, tore off the gown, and his eyes widened.

He was bulkier - his muscles slightly larger and far more defined - and he felt stronger, too.

"You will find it takes some time to get used to the upper limits of your body's augmentations," Well Being said idly. "But I think you'll find them satisfactory. We estimate that, judging by your body mass additions, muscle mass alterations and the effectiveness of the spells that we wove into your system, you can expect a one hundred forty nine percent increase to your maximum strength and endurance - that's only a percentage point off the absolute projected maximum, and far better than a lot of projected augmentees…"

Eric let her words wash over him, as he thought but one thing.

I am a knight of Albion. I am an angel of death. I will be mankind's sword and shield in the darkness…

***

Fenway Park, Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

The gruff, old-looking pony ran the glowing tip of his buzzing silver device up and down the prone form of David Elliot, clucking his tongue every so often. The man had been moved to a medical facility, and this pony - the Doctor, apparently, though he looked nothing like the Doctor Whooves any of the humans knew - and was being looked over.

He had coughed up blood before collapsing, and the Doctor was talking about "magical burnout", the same thing that the man had mentioned before, but none of them knew what it meant.

Kraber and Aegis were leaning against a wall in the hospital room, drinking straight from a bottle of bourbon, passing it between each other.

Stephan Bauer sat near the Doctor, frowning slightly at him. The Major had ordered Trixie and Lieutenant Kellman to see to organising a casualty list - it hadn't been as terrible as it could have been, all things considered. There had been collateral from the destroyed buildings, but Celestia - the Celestia clone - had been primarily focused on the Avatar, Discord and Luna for most of the fight. Several troops had been killed when the Tyrant arrived near their position, but Stephan was frankly grateful that he hadn't lost more.

"So," Stephan said, wincing slightly in pain from his injuries. "What exactly brings you here?"

"If by 'here' you mean this city," the Doctor said, "I followed Elliot's time trace - it led here."

"Seems a long way to come," Stephan said. "So… where are you from?"

"The same place as him," the Doctor replied.

"Which is where, exactly?" Stephan asked.

"That would be a long story," the Doctor said slowly. "I'd rather explain it in front of the other Luna and Discord. That way, I won't have to go over it twice. Which reminds me. Where are they?"

"They're elsewhere in the medical area getting looking over," Stephan said. "I'm gonna have a hell of a time explaining them to top brass."

"I imagine they aren't the only thing you'll have trouble explaining," the Doctor said wryly, gesturing at Elliot.

"Yeah," Stephan said with a slight smile. "There seems to be… a few strange things going on."

"Quite so," the Doctor said. "I believe at some point one gets used to strange things. Or at least that's what I'm often told."

"Do you believe it?" Stephan asked.

"Oh good heavens, no," the Doctor said, grinning. "But if one got used to strange things, then why would one bother doing anything at all?"

***

Scottish Archives, February 12th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Stood in the centre of the training room, surrounded by target dummies and other training devices, Lyra Heartstrings waited. She closed her eyes, and breathed in.

The first attack was a spear that shot out and nearly hit her, but a slight adjustment of her stance fixed that, and she barely had to move to dodge another projectile. A series of arrows lashed out from somewhere, but her horn glowed and a shield raised.

Lyra breathed out, then back in.

A training dummy moved near her, simulating a charging enemy. She spun around and bucked it, before her horn glowed, grabbing a dagger and lashing out at another that was moving near her. She sheathed the dagger again, before tensing her augmented legs, three circular metal implants installed in each leg the only sign of the far more extensive surgeries she had undergone. She pushed, and bounded five feet in the air, spinning and dodging more arrows and other projectiles as she did so, before landing, her horn glowing and destroying several of the projectile weapons.

Lyra breathed out, then back in.

She bucked another training dummy, ducked another projectile, idly raised a shield, scowled, turned the shield into a shockwave and threw it back at the dummy that had thrown the projectile and dodged another spear that lashed past her flank before incinerating another dummy…

"Oi!" a voice called, and she breathed out, then back in, before restoring herself to her natural rhythm.

"Hell Blazer," she said with a quiet nod at the yellow pony. He was in his shirtsleeves, his customary trench coat and tie absent. "How are you?"

"Not so bad," he said. "See you've recovered."

"I'll say," she said without mirth. She jogged on the spot for a moment. "These implants… they're not bad."

"I guess not," Hell Blazer said, smiling slightly. His smile faded. "There's still been no word."

Lyra scowled at these words and turned away from him.

"No word, no rumours, no reason for the buildup they're having now that we know of at all," she said snappishly. "David can't have just vanished off the face of the map."

"We don't know if he might have tried assassinating her and failed," Hell Blazer said quietly. "That's the theory that the Council seem convinced by."

"But you're not," Lyra said.

"Not even a little," Hell Blazer said, smirking again, a slightly sour thing. "There's more to this shit than we're getting, I fucking guarantee it."

"We can only hope the Doctor finds some trace of him," Lyra said quietly. "No word from him either, though."

"He's a resourceful old bastard," Hell Blazer said sagely. "He'll be fine."

There was a long pause.

"The Council will start demanding you summon another Avatar," Lyra pointed out, not looking at him. It was a… sore point.

"Let me handle them," Hell Blazer said. "Focus on training."

"Oh, don't worry," Lyra said, smiling mirthlessly. "I have that covered."

***

Fenway Park, Boston, November 16th 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Standing in front of a projector showing the image of several of the most powerful men left in the world, Stephan Bauer managed to be what he considered impressively calm. The responsibilities he now shouldered… well, they dwarfed even his time as commander of all EU forces. In his hand he clutched a scroll, the parting gift from the clone - a warning of her imminent return. Near him stood Doctor Whooves, a brown Earth Pony with a brown mane and blue eyes, a collar and tie around his neck.

"Stephan, is this information correct?" the prematurely aged US President Jack Davis started, a copy of his report in his hand.

"Yes sir, she showed her hand today, and even with what we got, we are sorely outclassed by the sheer power she could bring. She is going to place everything she has right down our throat," Stephan said, throwing the scroll down. "If today's battle against that monster was anything to note, we're not going to make it long enough to face off against her and her armies at the same time."

President Davis closed his eyes, rubbing his nose as he felt a familiar headache coming on. "Was there anything we did that left a mark on that beast?"

Stephan raised an eyebrow with a smirk, pulled his machete out and slammed it into the table, then pulled out a crystal round set it down. "A few things actually. The crystal rounds worked like a charm, even hurt Discord himself. My machete also managed to severe her wing."

"At least that is something to note, anything you recommend once she comes bearing down on us?" Brigadier General Philippe Delon asked, his uniform covered with dozens of medals, a smoking pipe held in his hand.

"I need the best snipers we can get our hands on, load them up with as many crystal rounds we can and have them take the shot." Stephan rubbed his chin, a frown on his face. "Maybe a heavy machine gun or autocannon with the crystals rounds placed onto the TARDIS just in case we can't get the shot."

The Doctor scowled at Stephan from his place behind him, but said nothing as he busied himself with his notes.

"So be it, I'll start moving what I can to Boston," Davis sighed, resting back in his chair. "I hope you don't mind me asking Stephan, but you seem to be trying to avoid the Elephant in the room, or in this case, three Elephants."

"I must agree with President Davis on this, Major Bauer. You have been avoiding it. Although, given what I saw in the report… it's beyond my expectations," said Japan's Minister of Defense, a man named Itsunori Onodera.

Stephan rubbed the back of his neck.

"Which Elephant do you want me to start with, sir?" he asked honestly.

"Start with Discord and Luna," Davis suggested. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but they're within our comprehension."

"Truth be told, sir, I'm still trying to wrap my head around them being here, let alone Elephant number three," Stephan said with a wry grin. "They come from a different Equestria. It appears that when our little piece of Elements tried to attack Colonel Renee, it sent him away instead of turning him to stone." Stephan gave a small grimace as he stood, the bandages on his body a testament of how much he'd gone through the past hour. "Discord claimed that a past version of him placed the suggestion in our Twilight's mind, or a piece of his soul. I don't know, but that's… I have no idea how that's supposed to work."

"You can sit, Stephan. You don't need to stand up for us after all you gone through," Davis said, a look of concern on his face as he took note of his stance.

"I'm going to have to turn that offer down, sir. If I sit, there is very little chance of me getting back up." Stephan gave a small, painful chuckle. "Back to the main point, Renee's alive. In Equestria, I might add. Runes are good, but not that good."

"What about the magic degenerating his body?" Delon asked.

Stephan winced. "You're not going to like it, but… non-issue. Celestia lied to us, which means…" he sighed. "I owe Stabsunteroffizier Kraber a lot of whiskey. We had a bet."

"Magic was never harmful?" President Davis asked.

Stephan nodded. "As Kraber so aptly put it, she did this to hobble us."

"So… we've been lied to, enslaved, killed by the thousands and millions, and this entire time we could have slowly infiltrated the barrier with little health risk to our people?" Brigadier General Delon asked with growing rage, gripping his smoke pipe tightly in his hand. "Is that… what you are telling me? That we could have conducted our own tests and avoided this… this travesty altogether?"

Stephan said nothing to this, his eyes never leaving the field. He gave a sigh before nodding his head. "Yes sir. It appears to be that way."

None of the men on the screen said anything, Brigadier General Delon snarled as he stood up, grabbed his PDA and threw it at the far wall, with a crash as the screen shattered. The general walked about in the background, cursing up a storm before he threw himself back into his seat. Stephan couldn't blame him; he'd been in touch with far more suffering than any of them. President Davis and Minister Itsunori just sat motionless, their eyes closed, countless regrets passing over their faces. Davis shook his head before looking to Stephan once more.

"God… dammit. So… what do they want from us?"

"It's not what they want from us," Cheerilee answered as she walked through the door, nodding to the various leaders on the screen. "It's what they can do for us."

"And that is?" President Davis asked.

"You're not going to believe this," Stephan said. "I hardly believe it myself. All they want is to help."

"You are seriously telling me," Delon said, slipping back into his familiar old rage, "that an Alicorn princess and a chaos god, from another Equestria, are here to help. Both of whom should be dead or stone by now."

"They even said that their Equestria has its own Elements of Harmony, and it's own Celestia, but Marcus advised against sending her because he figured that we wouldn't react well," Stephan continued. "Hell, Kraber's proof enough of that."

"We'll address all of this in a moment," General Delon said, frowning somewhat - clearly none of this was sitting well with him at all, not that anyone could blame him for that. "I for one am interested in this 'Avatar of Albion'. My understanding is that he stood toe to toe with the clone, correct?"

"Yes sir," Stephan said quietly. "He's… going to be more difficult to account for."

"Then I suggest you start from the top, Major," Davis said with a wry grin.

"Well, for starters, he's a pub-buddy of Kraber's from another universe," Stephan said. "In 2030."

"Another universe?" Davis asked. "I suppose that's not so much of a stretch, but it seems a little… out there."

"Every single decision we make creates an alternative reality," the Doctor pointed out. "Even in this very conversation. It's not so difficult to imagine a world where something like him could exist."

"Is he from the future?" General Delon asked.

"From what I can tell, it's not our future," Stephan said. "He's from another world where something eerily similar happened. Another Celestia, another Barrier, another PER, another HLF, and ponification potion."

The various highly-placed military and political figures on videoconference looked more confused than anything.

"Britain's the only human civilization left, far as he knows," Stephan explained. "They're reduced to fourteen million-"

"I feel as if this is a warning," Onodera interrupted, looking thoughtful.

"I said it wasn't our future," Stephan pointed out, frowning at him.

"True," Onodera agreed with a nod. "But it is a warning - a warning of what might happen if we should fail. Did he at all describe the situation?"

"Incredibly poor, sir. They're in a much worse state - minimal resources, outdated weaponry… but they also have magic," Stephan said, folding his arms. "As evidenced by our friend, one BDF Major David Elliot. He ended up imbuing himself with the inherent magic of the British Isles, from what I understand…"

***

Fenway Park, Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"So this is his machine?" Doctor Whooves asked, looking over the blue box. It reminded him so much of his own, beloved old Police Box, though it was more worn and battered than his had been (before the disaster that had been the attempt to save Lyra). Somewhere nearby, Derpy, Dinky and Sparkler were watching, leaving the Doctor alone with Stephan and Trixie as he had requested.

"It is," Stephan said. He looked down at the Doctor. "You believe this stuff then?"

"Other me, easy," the Doctor replied, turning away from the box with a sigh. "Met too many."

"And this 'Avatar'?" Stephan added.

"Magic isn't my area of expertise," the Doctor admitted with a frown, "though I have picked up a lot in the last few years. This 'Elliot'…" He smiled, shaking his head. "Man's just, by being alive, wrecked any idea of magic being inherently dangerous to the human form."

"There is this 'burnout' to consider," Stephan pointed out.

"That's a different matter," the Doctor said, "and one we'll need to address. It sounds almost like his body is overtaxed. No, our conventional thinking up until this point has been that if you did something like that, you'd melt the human in a matter of minutes - their cells would simply disintegrate."

"And his aren't?" Trixie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If they are - any scans by me pending," the Doctor said with a raised eyebrow, "then they're doing so at a much slower rate than our thinking up to this point would have had it - and he's channeling a lot of power to be able to stand up to Celestia."

Stephan nodded. "I think a few words might be needed once he wakes up."

"And a few words with this counterpart of mine," the Doctor added.

***

Elsewhere in Fenway, Discord and Luna were sat, having been looked over. Discord winced slightly at the pain in his body - he had been more badly battered than he liked letting on.

"So," he said conversationally to Luna, who was sat with her eyes closed. "That went… well."

"The Tyrant sent but a clone, and we destroyed it," Luna replied. "If it is anything like her…"

"No doubt she's worse," Discord said with a sigh. "I should have guessed something was up. Celly was never that stupid. Underestimating your opponents - worst thing you can do in war."

"Indeed," Luna replied, frowning at him. "And almost as cardinal a sin is underestimating your allies."

Discord nodded, looking at her. "You mean knight-boy."

"There was something about his magic that seemed entirely alien to me," Luna said quietly. "Something… off."

"Impressive stuff," Discord agreed. "Could have done without him fighting like she was going to be honourable about it all, but once he got the picture, I have to say, he didn't do so badly."

"Marcus never once even mentioned him," Luna pointed out quietly. "Not even once. If this man were part of their forces…"

"He isn't," Discord said quietly. "'A parallel Britain,' that huge Earth Pony said. This Elliot, whoever he is, is from another world."

"Yet another?" Luna asked, frowning. "That scarcely seems possible."

"So we might have said about a lot of things," Discord reminded Luna. He frowned. "There's a more troubling point though." Luna raised an eyebrow in question, prompting Discord to continue. "He said 'I know the ways of Tyrants.' And the oversized Earth Pony said something about his world probably having something similar to this one going on."

"Another world, another Bag?" Luna asked quietly.

Discord shook his head, not wanting to countenance the idea. "We can't guarantee that - infinite realities spawn infinite possibilities. For all we know, his war is entirely different. Or exactly the same." He paused. "But it would be interesting to know where he's from - maybe even see if they can lend us allies for the battle against this Tyrant."

"Is that likely?" Luna asked. "This world is at the brink."

"And maybe theirs is better off," Discord suggested. "Or worse off. But not knowing doesn't tell us anything."

"What are you suggesting?" Luna asked with narrowed eyes.

Before Discord could reply, they were interrupted by the arrival of Stephan, who approached the two with a grim expression.

"Major," Luna said with a smile. "It is good to see you."

"If you could both come with me," Stephan said. "We need to go pick up Mr Elliot."

The two of them followed him out of their area. Discord walked near to Luna, and to her surprise, his mouth disappeared from where it was and began floating near her ear. She scowled.

"One thing bothers me though," Discord's mouth said in a soft voice. "How'd that pony know?"

"He and his friend said it was guesswork," Luna said irritably.

"I don't believe that, and I don't think they do either," Discord countered. "There's more to this than we know yet…"

***

"So just to confirm," Kraber said with a wince, "I am alive, right?"

He and Aegis were sat on makeshift hospital beds in the middle of Fenway park, near where Elliot was lying unconscious. Nearby sat the old John Hurt pony (who still didn't like the term), working on a small gadget of some kind.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” the old pony said distractedly.

“....And he says that to the person who’s tried to commit suicide more times than I can count,” Aegis said. “Great, Mr. John Hurt Pony.”

“They’re superficial,” the older stallion said. “Anyone could see you’ll live through the day. And would you stop calling me that!”

“Right,” Kraber said. “But in the past 96 hours, I’ve been shot, I’ve been thrown off a moving train - which hurt like hell - and I had to fight my way back on and shovel coal for the locomotive. I’ve only gotten six hours of sleep, maybe, and I’ve been thrown down three stories onto my back. After getting in a fight with a teleporting mank genaaide bergbok. I am fokking sat.”

He leaned against the wall.

“Eish, that hurts too…”

“Come on, lean against me, then,” Aegis said.

Kraber slid down to the floor, his back against Aegis’ barrel. “You’re right, this does feel better…”

“We still need some sleep, though,” Aegis yawned.

The old stallion raised an eyebrow, throwing the two a glance. "You gentlemen are… interesting."

“I’m interesting?” Aegis asked.

“Huh. Usually it’s ‘sociopathic,’ ‘dangerously insane,’ ‘Good at making shrimp and grits,’ or ‘Oh Christ it’s him, run!’” Kraber added.

"Perhaps I am used to sociopaths," the stallion shrugged. "Elliot is amongst the more moderate individuals I know, and he wears the manes of important victims in his coat."

“I used to know people that did that with cutie marks,” Kraber said. “They’re dead now. And not a single fok was given.” He sighed. “Trophy-taking, huh? I don’t really care for that anymore. Unless it’s a gun, some bit of tech or magic, but that’s a rare opportunity.”

“How bad is it over where Elliot’s from?” Aegis asked. “I got the Cliff’s Notes version, but he wasn’t exactly in a position for an in-depth interview-”

“Hold on, that gives me an idea,” Kraber said, texting on his iPhone. “True… Quill… Have you heard about Boston? We’re not newfoals so we won, but there’s a hell of a story…

“Anyway, what can you tell us about it?” Aegis asked.

"What is there to tell?" the old stallion asked. "The world we come from is suffering a war similar to this one - and in some ways, one might argue our situation is worse."

“What’s day-to-day life there, I mean?” Aegis pressed.

“Not much of a life,” the old stallion said. "Civilians work in what foundries we have to make guns and ammunition. Soldiers guard cities and towns and patrol roads. Scientists and magical experts research new means of defence. It is survival." He paused. "But would you believe… it is not totally bleak? I have always been impressed by the indomitable human spirit. The world is near total extinction - and yet, dozens of new religions have been founded, worshipping everything from Britain itself to the spirit of Mother Earth. And…"

He trailed off, his eyes crinkling slightly at some memory.

“You’ve lost a lot,” Kraber said, almost wistful, clearly remembering some terrible event from the last four years. “I don’t just mean that world. You lost someone close.”

"Everyone has," the stallion said softly. "Elliot lost his friend Sam. I lost… but do you know something strange?"

“Probably plenty of things,” Kraber said, and he gave the Doctor a strange contemplative look, hands running through his beard.

"Our world is still full of joy, too," the stallion said softly. "There is still song there. Still laughter. In the dying of the light, the flame of humanity still shines brightly." He threw Kraber a look. "And would you believe, your counterpart is amongst those who keep it alive?"

“Yes,” Kraber said bluntly.

The stallion chuckled. "Now how did I know you'd say that. You're quite alike in a lot of ways you know - though I fear his penchant for oversized weaponry is less sated than your own."

“Considering what I think it’s like there, I’m not surprised,” Kraber said with a smirk. “I get the feeling he’s lucky to have gotten that Bren gun.”

The old Doctor frowned. "How did you know he had a Bren?"

“I have no idea,” Kraber said.

“It would take too long to explain, and both of us would be shit at it anyway,” Aegis said.

Before they could say anything else, Stephan arrived, motioning to the two of them to stand up. Wincing, Kraber did so.

"Sir," he said with a nod. "What's the call?"

"The call is, we're going to go speak with our new friend the Doctor about himself and Elliot," Stephan said slowly. He looked at Elliot's prone form. "Any change?"

"He stopped coughing blood up," Aegis commented drily. "That might be good."

Stephen smiled humorlessly. "It just might be."

He turned to look over at the old Doctor. "Doctor? We're moving out."

"Have your men take Elliot to my TARDIS," the old pony replied distractedly, still fixated on his piece of junk. "And then provide me with the co-ordinates."

"How do we get in?" Stephan asked.

The old pony sighed, before giving him a small ankh-like item from inside one of his battered jacket's pockets.

"TARDIS key," he said softly. "It should allow you access." He gave Stephan a stern look. "Do not touch anything. The controls are currently set in isomorphic mode, but that does not mean you should be meddling with it."

"What are you even doing?" Stephan asked.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you would not understand."

Stephan scowled for a moment, and then chuckled slightly. "You really are the Doctor, aren't you?"

"Despite all evidence to the contrary," the old pony replied humorlessly.

Stephan sighed, before turning and heading off, leaving the older Doctor alone. As he strode in the direction of the old pony's Police Box, he passed Doctor Whooves, who had followed him a little slowly. The other stallion was staring at the older Doctor with wide eyes, but Stephan ignored it. It was probably just surprise at what his other self looked like or something.

***

"Dad, are you ok?" Sparkler asked concernedly, frowning as the Doctor stopped dead, his eyes widening in shock.

He couldn't believe it. Well, he could: Stephan had spoken of him, had described his features in detail. But nothing could prepare him for the the pony he saw - just as Stephan had described him. Not the face Doctor Whooves wore, a young face, a young, so full-of-hope body. It was somepony else entirely: a familiar battered leather coat, patchy and broken. A bandolier slung over one shoulder underneath it, a small silver sonic screwdriver nestled inside the loops. A red and cream patterned scarf, practical and worn.

It was a pony body, but apart from that, the face was that of his greatest shame, even now that he had come to terms with that face and what he thought it had done. It was the face that had led battle-TARDIS' into the heart of storms and the fire of battle. It was a face that had seen even more than the lined, aged appearance would admit to.

It was a face he had never wanted to wear again. So why was he?

"Dad…?" Dinky asked, looking up at him in concern.

The Doctor scowled, not looking at her. This… this, he had to deal with.

"Wait here," he said softly. "I'll be back in a moment. I need to talk to this stallion about something."

He trotted off toward the older pony, his family looking over at him in concern.

"What's wrong with him, mom?" Dinky asked her mother, who was looking on in silence, grim comprehension on her face.

"It would take a long time to explain," she replied.

***

The old pony was sat quietly by himself, still tinkering with his small device, when a shadow fell over him. He sighed, already knowing who it was, and didn't look up.

"How could you?" an accusatory voice asked. "How in all that's sacred to us could you?"

He looked up, and found himself confronted with a face, quite literally, from his past. The Doctor - more specifically, Doctor Whooves, his alternative self in this reality. He sighed.

"I assume you are referring to the fact that this form is based upon…" he began.

"You know what I'm referring to!" the other him snapped. "How could you become him?! How could you choose to do that again?!"

"It was done because there was no better choice," the older Doctor said tiredly. "As you would know, had you lived it."

"There is always a choice," the younger Doctor hissed. "Always. Any choice was better than becoming…"

"Ditzy Doo died," the older Doctor cut him off.

There was a pause, the younger Doctor's mouth hanging open as his eyes widened, looking for all the world as though he had been struck.

"…what?" he finally said.

"In Manchester," the older Doctor said tiredly, "there was an attack by a Super-Zeppelin…"

"A what?" Whooves asked.

"Thirty eight hundred foot airship," the older Doctor clarified. "This one was called the Harmonious Order. One of Ditzy's more impressive achievements was to achieve leadership of Grey Squadron, elite air skirmishers with the skill to rival the Wonderbolts." The older pony smiled slightly. "She would not be swayed from it."

"You let your wife…?" the young Doctor said, but the older one held up a hoof.

"There is something you should always remember when dealing with ponies and humans from my world of origin. It is not your world, and you are not me," he said, speaking sternly. "There is no doubt much that you would find different, no doubt disconcertingly so."

The younger Doctor scowled. "And Derpy was one such thing?"

"Her name was Ditzy," the older Doctor said with a scowl of his own. "I never liked that nickname." The Doctor said nothing as his older counterpart continued. "I never married Ditzy. Nor were we so inclined - she was my friend. My dearest friend in all of Equestria, closer to me than any one of the friends I made after her." He paused, his expression turning sour. "That was enough."

"She died in the battle," the younger Doctor guessed, his tone sombre. "And you…"

"I chose this," the older Doctor said, frowning. "I chose this life, this face, this form, because I had failed. I had failed more profoundly than I have ever failed before - I allowed the human race to die. I allowed Ditzy, and countless other soldiers of the remaining Resistance and BDF forces, to die. I will fail no more."

Those last two words caused the younger Doctor to flinch. "Still… choosing his face…"

"Is as much an aesthetic as a necessity," the older pony said gravely, frowning up at him. "You are as much a warrior as I am - the only difference is that you have not - yet - reached the moment where you accept it."

"No," the younger Doctor said, frowning, his voice rising slightly. "No, I'm nothing like you!"

This shout got the attention of the other members of the Whooves clan, who started moving closer.

"Really?" the older Doctor asked, ignoring them as his voice turned lower and quieter. "Then you do not help the humans? You do not help them build weapons? You do not go on missions, taking men and women and ponies into battle, launching raids or transporting ponies to and from Equestria?"

"I…"

"Do not think to throw stones at me from your glass house, Doctor," the older pony snapped. "And if that is all you have come to do, you may leave. Some of us have work to do."

"Hey!" the voice of Sparkler yelled, and both Doctors turned to see her scowling at the older one. "You don't talk to my Dad like that, whoever you are!"

"Yeah!" Dinky added. "You old meanie! What did my Dad ever do to you?!"

The older Doctor looked stricken, his eyes wide with shock and horror, and Doctor Whooves suddenly found himself feeling sympathy for him. As much as he hated to admit it, he understood… stars only knew what he would do if Derpy, or one of the girls, was taken from him the way this Doctor's Ditzy had been.

He understood… and seeing him now, he remember that this him, this one version, had been born from loss and pain as much as fire and war.

"I…" the older Doctor choked out, his eyes wavering and beginning to water when faced with such unadulterated vitriol.

"You don't know my Dad, pal," Sparkler continued, scowling, "so don't you start throwing stones when you're blind as a -"

"Sparkler, don't," Whooves said, cutting her off. She looked up at him, confused. "Just don't. It's alright… he was right. I shouldn't have said what I did to him."

He locked eyes with Derpy, who had remained silent. Alone of his family, he had explained to her who the self he was still somewhat ashamed of had been. Alone of all his family. She knew what this pony represented.

"Your family is special," the older Doctor said, and the younger one turned to look at him. The older pony looked tired and defeated. "More special than you know. Treasure them, Doctor."

"I will," Doctor Whooves said quietly. "I will."

The old Doctor said nothing, and slowly returned to his tinkering, looking away from the ponies who were still glaring at him, though their glares softened. The other Doctor said nothing, before turning away and leaving the older pony to his work, his family following.

"Who was he, Dad?" Sparkler asked her father, frowning. "Somepony you know?"

"Somepony I know very well," the Doctor replied softly. "A long time ago, we were very close. I thought I remembered him… but I forgot. I forgot why."

"Why what?" Sparkler asked.

"Why he is who he is," the Doctor replied. "Why he made the choices he did." He closed his eyes. "And as much as I hated hearing it… he was right. I've made similar choices, and hidden under this… veneer of pacifism, this veneer of the scientist. I'm as much involved as he is. He's just… more honest, I guess. I'm a warrior. Not a healer."

"You're a good pony," Derpy said softly, putting a hoof on his shoulder. "You always were. This war… it asks a lot of us all. But you're a good pony, and you try to do the right thing. And I think… I think he's the same."

"Yeah," the Doctor said with a slight smile, before looking back at the old pony, still alone. "I guess he just… needs somepony to remind him. I have you. He…"

He trailed off, and suddenly he was hugging Derpy.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," he said quietly. "I just don't."

That was a lie and they both knew it. What he'd do was right there, the face of one possible future, just sitting on the bench, tinkering with technology, utterly broken.

"You aren't going to lose me," was all she said in return. Slowly, his family surrounded him, hugging both of them. Together, the Whooves clan basked in their love for one another.

Nearby, an old pony's eyes flicked up to them for a moment before returning to the task at hoof. He had seen love, and he had briefly felt it… but for him, no more. Not until the task was done.

A single tear, unnoticed, leaked from his left eye, dripping onto his jacket. He ignored it, before putting the little gadget away and striding off.

"Doctor," he said to Doctor Whooves, who turned to look at him. "I shall meet you at the appointed co-ordinates."

"Right," Whooves said softly. "Thank you."

"Don't," the older pony said quietly. "I haven't ended the war yet."

He strode off.

***

Scottish Archives, February 12th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Deep in the archives, a redheaded young woman with pale skin and blonde streaks was filing a series of important documents. She wore a blouse, skirt and lab coat, as well as glasses, and she looked tired and flustered. As she filed, she took a small packet of paracetamol from her pocket and swallowed one, taking a drink from a hip flask. She shuddered slightly before returning to work.

"Miss Gleeson?" a voice asked quietly from behind her.

The redhead closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Yes, Mr Giles?"

"I'm afraid we need to have a conversation," the kindly voice said politely. "It's of some urgency."

Dawn Gleeson turned around slowly, raising her head to meet Giles' expression. It was grim but not angry. The older man was always genial and polite, even when he had serious topics to discuss - it was, in a way, like dealing with Celestia… or how Celestia used to be.

It was strange: her presence in this world had always been something of a mistake. Once upon a time, she had been a pony named Sunset Shimmer. She had been… troubled. Well, technically, she had been ambitious and impatient. Even though she had been Princess Celestia's favoured student in her time, she had wanted more, and left her teachings, eventually finding her way to another world.

There had been barely any magic upon her arrival but that hadn't stopped her. She stuck to her old ways. Despite being a star pupil in Canterlot she had been a troubling student at the same time. Intimidation, blackmail, rumourmongering and more had been her usual means of passing the time and eliminating rivals to her academic achievements. Whilst landing in another world had stripped her of magic she found her skills in turning ponies - or people - against one another was not diminished.

When Equestria had made contact with this Earth, she had been surprised, maybe worried, but to her surprise nothing had come of it. She hadn't transformed back into her old form, and none of the (admittedly few) ponies she had met were able to cotton onto her.

Then, of course, the Barrier had expanded. She had been in America… and she had seen Gilead. It had been… nasty. Luckily for her, she had run into a group of people fleeing for Britain and joined them. From there, she had been able to watch the burning of the world, while she worked crappy jobs in Britain trying to make a life for herself, fully expecting that said life would end…

And then it didn't.

Her work in the Archives had been an interesting thing: when the Watcher's Council had revealed the existence of Earth's magic, there had been a call for anyone who knew anything to report to a local government office to help. Sunset, by this time living under the name Dawn Gleeson, hadn't wanted to be involved… but the world had burned. Selfishness can only carry somepony - someone - so far.

And so here she was. Her knowledge of Equestrian magic - disguised as study of esoteric magic - was enough to allow the Council to work in some additional training regimens, and though the runes the humans used on the Paladin designs were different to Equestrian runes (though they were similar to some ancient runes that had come from Zebrafrica and some of the ancient Mongeldian and Horsian Empires) she could still help with them.

Still - there had always been an undercurrent in her work here, a sense that her secret wasn't safe. A sense that she had to tread a fine line between knowing and not knowing.

"I think," Mr Giles said, bringing her back to the present, "that the time has come to stop keeping secrets from one another."

"I don't know what you mean, Mr Giles," Sunset said.

"Come now, Miss Sunset Shimmer," Giles said, smiling slightly. "We always knew your secret. Ever since you first arrived on Earth the Watcher's Council knew you were here. We kept track of you for some time, making certain you arrived in Britain safely. It was something of a surprise when you came to work with us, but a welcome one." His smile faded. "However…"

"You knew?" Sunset said, cutting him off. "You knew and you never said anything?"

"Of course we knew," Giles said. "You're not as impressive with regards to remaining incognito as you wish to be."

Sunset scowled. "Then why did you let me stay? Why didn't you stick me in a cryotube like the GG3?"

"You aren't a threat like the GG3, Miss Shimmer," Giles said. "And you did good work."

"Then what do you want?" Sunset asked.

"Simple," Giles said, and his smile faded slightly. He held out a small piece of paper. Sunset took it and looked at it, her eyes widening.

"You cannot be serious," she said quietly, looking back up at him. "I'm not a soldier."

"The Ruling Council were made aware of your origins, and they feel a frontline role would be beneficial," Giles said tiredly. "It isn't as though we'd be sending you unprepared, though."

"No, you're just planning on sticking me in Paladin I armour," Sunset said, dropping the paper. It was a message slip ordering Dawn Gleeson to report to Iron Clad orientation as soon as possible. 'Orientation' was a fancy word for 'surgeries': the main surgeries were performed while you were unconscious, but it was still a surgical procedure. "I'm not Iron Clad material."

"The Ruling Council agreed in principle," Giles said, smiling tightly. "But we know who you are, Miss Shimmer. Former pupil of Celestia. Quite powerful…"

"And most of that power isn't nearly as accessible in this body," Sunset growled.

"Yet," Giles retorted. "And let us be honest - more of it is accessible than you've ever let on."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're very good at playing the 'bumbling Englishman' card, but you're not nearly as dense as you let on."

"Oh, I know," Giles replied with a grin. "I've also got more pull than you think. If you cooperate, I can have them spare you the orientation and get you a job as a support mage rather than a front-liner Clad. You'll still need armour, but we've been working on some stuff for the line troops that isn't Paladin armour. Some of the nanotechnology the Doctor brought, for example - we used the technology for Operative Heartstrings' operations, but we've been adapting it for specialised battle-armour - nothing we can mass produce yet, of course, especially with the Doctor having gone in search of Elliot, but still effective in its own right. As a… specialist, I can probably convince the Council that you're worth the expense in materials."

"But you can't convince them to let me stay here away from the fighting," Sunset said, raising an eyebrow.

"Afraid not. Don't be too disheartened, though, Miss Shimmer," Giles said, trying to lighten the mood. "You'll be with our Iron Clads on the front. You helped develop the Iron Clad project and the Paladin armour. Consider this an opportunity to test your work out first hand, so to speak."

Sunset only growled again.

***

The TARDIS, en route to New York, November 16th 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"You know," Discord said with a frown as he looked around the stark interior of the old Doctor's TARDIS, "I’m sure there are better ways of getting where we're going."

"I’m certain you're right," the Doctor replied amiably. "And yet here we are."

The Lord of Chaos was sat on a chair, frowning slightly. Nearby, Luna was apparently meditating. Stephan was sitting down, letting Trixie use a medical kit the Doctor had provided on him, wincing every so often.

Kraber was stood near Elliot, who was laid out on a gurney the old Doctor had found for them. The man looked peaceful, his jacket slung over his body like a blanket. He twitched slightly, as though he was having some sort of dream, but his features remained calm.

"How long do you reckon he'll be like this?" Kraber asked the Doctor.

"Hard to say," the old pony replied, looking at Elliot with a soft expression of worry. It was clear he considered the man a friend. "He has been in comas like this before, but none of those comas have been after exertion this prolonged and severe."

"He said something about creating a hurricane once," Aegis said. "Did he go into a coma after that?"

"That was when we realised he was suffering from magical burnout," the Doctor said. He sighed. "It was… unfortunate. I should have done more, but any experimental technologies to enhance fighting ability are not a match for the power he could obtain. Still," he added, "I have been able to do some good, at least."

"Oh?" Stephan asked, arms crossed. "How d'you mean?"

The Doctor shook his head. "When we arrive at our destination, that will be the time for storytelling. Right now, I'm driving."

He flicked another switch, frowning slightly. He threw a glance at Discord and Luna, before spinning a wheel.

"Sidera Somniata," he said aloud, flipping another switch.

There was no response from anyone in the control room, barring an odd look from Stephan and a frown from Trixie, and the Doctor nodded.

"Interesting," he said slowly.

"What is?" Trixie asked with a scowl.

"I'll explain later," the old pony said airily, waving a hoof. Trixie frowned, before throwing Stephan a look. He shrugged.

***

Kraber was supposed to be in bed back in Fenway, recuperating after the battle, but he'd managed to put it off a bit. Besides, he'd evidently found himself privy to a lot of sensitive information, so nobody was sure what to do with him between now and a stint in the hospital. He glanced over at Luna and Discord, who were having a quiet conversation away from the others, standing by an old hatstand with a blue scarf and a frock coat hung on it. He knew eavesdropping was beneath him… but what they were saying had caught his ear, and he might not get a chance later, once this TARDIS (which really did remind him of John Hurt's…) landed.

"You should have told me," the Moon Diarch hissed.

"About what?"

"Do not play stupid with me. The Elements. When I went into Twilight Sparkle's mind… you knew what I would see!"

"Yes, I did."

"Then you should have told me!"

"Would you have believed me?"

"She was being tortured, Discord. Tortured in her own mind. Are they all like that?"

"Well, obviously." The lord of Chaos clucked his tongue. "As if any of them would willingly go along with that sort of insanity."

Kraber frowned. What he was hearing didn't make sense.

"Twilight Sparkle was…" Luna continued, and Kraber continued straining to hear. "She was in so much pain, Discord. She had done so much… been forced to do so much…"

"That's what we're fighting," Discord said. "The homunculi are one of the Tyrant's nastier creations - I wouldn't be surprised if the tortures Twilight's going through weren't even the worst of the bunch…"

"Can ought be done for them?" Luna asked.

"Maybe," Discord said, shrugging. "I honestly don't know. They might just want to die."

"Viktor?" a new voice said, much closer to Kraber. He turned to look at Aegis, who was frowning at him.

"Hm?" Kraber said. "Oh, sorry. Was just… listening."

Aegis threw a glance at Luna and Discord, who had glanced at them and were moving off. "What were they talking about?"

Kraber didn't answer. In truth, he didn't know how to answer. Then a thought struck him.

"Princess Luna? I have a question, actually," he said to her.

"Hmmm?" Princess Luna asked, turning and frowning at him, as though only noticing he was there for the first time.

"I saw Rarity as near as try to kill herself," Kraber said, frowning as he remembered that moment. During the fighting, Rarity had literally stood stock still, as though frozen with indecision, and if it hadn't been for Fluttershy, she'd have been killed. "There was rubble about to collapse on her, but it was like her body wouldn't let her move. That sounds like what I heard you say about wanting to die…"

"Eavesdropping is quite rude," Discord said, folding his mismatched arms. "But… wait. She tried to kill herself?"

Aegis nodded. "Like my friend said. There was rubble about to crush her, and it was like she just… couldn't move. Like her legs were stuck or something. Fluttershy saved her though."

"They've all reached that point?" Luna asked quietly.

"They know what they've been forced to do," Discord said, looking mournful. "And they all believe they need to die for it. Not just Twilight - all of them."

"The homunculi, the Tyrant's cruelty…" Princess Luna looked at the floor, downcast. "Truly, it knows no bounds."

"What are you talking about?" Aegis asked, Kraber nodding along in agreement.

"The Elements of Harmony are fundamentally good mares," Princess Luna said, and Kraber stared at her, eyes narrowed.

"Are you tuning me kak?!" he yelled.

"Pinkie Pie ponified his children," Aegis said, making an admirable effort at staying calm, "And his wife, and most of their friends."

"It wasn't her fault," Luna said, backpedaling a little. It was understandable that would make this human and his enormous pony friend (was he the result of one of Celestia's dalliances?) angry, if something that horrible had happened…

"No." Luna said, causing them to look to her. "The Elements are enslaved within their minds, forced to watch as mental homunculi control their every action as if they were mere puppets."

"Nooit!" Kraber sneered at her, slamming his hand on the wall as he glared at Luna. "I don't believe you for a fokking second. I lost my children to those fokking bitches, and you just wave it off as not their-!?"

Screaming. Bones cracking. Wings, stripped of skin, bursting from bodies that were twisting and malforming, eyes exploding, all while she was forced to watch…

"KILL ME! PLEASE! I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!"

Kraber gasped, staggering backwards and only being saved from collapsing by Aegis. He gave his friend a grateful look, before turning back to look at Luna and Discord.

His mind was reeling from… something. Memories, maybe? The Elements… Twilight Sparkle, screaming for death…

And the testing of the potion. On humans. Children, the elderly, men, women… thousands of them.

But how did these memories get there?

"The fok was that?" Kraber asked, trying very hard not to throw up.

"I think I'm gonna be sick…" Aegis groaned.

"You got that too, huh?" Kraber asked. Aegis' expression was about all the answer Kraber needed.

"That…?" Luna said, before staring disapprovingly at Discord, who had his arms behind his head, whistling vaguely.

"What?" Discord asked. "He eavesdropped - meant he wanted to see what was going on. I just sent him the abridged version."

"Was that… was that real?" Kraber asked.

"Oh yes," Discord said, nodding. "Very real, I'm afraid."

Kraber nodded, then slumped to the floor. "Well, fok. That means that it wasn't Pinkie's fault when she did… that."

He was silent for a moment.

"I need to think about some things," he sighed.

"Warframe and some booze?" Aegis suggested.

"Good call," Kraber said. "Good call."

***

The Mindscape, nowhere.

Elliot sat in the middle of a field, eyes closed, meditating, gathering strength. The field wasn't real, of course, and he wasn't sitting, but the metaphor worked.

He had heard of Mindscapes before, but never been in one. It was a place that demanded his attention, and so, despite the emptiness, he sat and waited.

What are you waiting for? something seemed to ask him.

"I don't know," he said aloud. "But I imagine I will."

The mindscape around him seemed to vibrate, turning an infinity of colors. Elliot had a strong suggestion that something else was keenly aware he was misplaced.

This is not where you were meant to be.

"No," Elliot said, and he let his mind wander, remembering the battle, the fire, the power of the Tyrant he had fought. "But I'm convinced I'm where I need to be. I can help these people - and maybe they can help me."

What is done cannot be undone, the voice said. From here, things must change. We must move faster.

"I understand and accept," Elliot said softly.

And then there was a flash of light.

***

John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Cheerilee Cherry watched with wide eyes as the old Police Box form of the TARDIS materialised slowly into view, landing with a loud 'thunk'. Behind her, two pony guards tensed, weapons ready, neither of them entirely comfortable with this situation - there were a lot of variables.

The double doors opened, and a moment later, Stephan Bauer, Viktor Kraber and Aegis marched out, Kraber limping and wincing and Stephan looking not-much-better, Trixie supporting him slightly. Cheerilee sighed in relief.

"Thank goodness you're all alright," she said. "When we heard the Tyrant was on the ground, it made us all fear the worst."

"Yeah, us too," Kraber commented with a slightly snarky tone. "Might need a little help with this."

From out of the TARDIS stepped two figures Cheerilee had never thought to see in this place. One was the mismatched form of Discord - her eyes widened in horror at the sight of him. The other was - and she couldn't believe this - Princess Luna.

"So it's true," she said quietly. "You - you're both…"

"We are here," Luna said with a slight bow, "and there is much we need to discuss, Cheerilee. But first, I think this one needs medical attention."

From out of the TARDIS came an older Earth Pony, pushing a gurney with a man on it. The man was sweating and pale, but he had stopped twitching for the moment. The old pony looked up at Cheerilee and nodded.

"Greetings," he said softly. "I trust your Doctor has arrived prior to us?"

"Yes," Cheerilee said. "He's waiting through in the conference room."

"I must attend to Elliot first," the old pony said. "But I am sure you have much to discuss with Lord Discord and Princess Luna."

Cheerilee nodded slowly, throwing the two a look. "Yeah. You're right about that." She paused. "I'll have our Doctor meet you."

The old pony nodded. "That would be acceptable."

Cheerilee gestured to one of her guards, and the pony - throwing the old pony a frown, clearly not trusting him an inch - started pushing the gurney off toward the direction of the medical facility. The old Doctor headed off after him, Kraber and Aegis following, leaving Stephan, Luna and Discord with Cheerilee and her remaining guard.

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

When Doctor Whooves arrived, his older-looking counterpart was still scanning Elliot, clucking his tongue every so often. Kraber was lying down, the Doctor having convinced him to sleep, having provided him with an odd-looking pill. Near him, Aegis was napping, having practically passed out on the floor. The older Doctor seemed content to let them sleep.

Whooves still felt uncomfortable being around this version of himself, but he had to remind himself that this version of him was a parallel one, not a future one - his own destiny was not this stallion.

Not yet, anyway.

Whooves threw that thought away as he cleared his throat. The old face wasn't his future, and all the deities of the cosmos willing, it never would be.

"Hello," he said. His counterpart glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," he said drily. He passed Whooves the sonic. "Take a gander at these readings, will you?"

Whooves frowned and took the screwdriver, frowning at the readings the sonic was giving off. This was not something he was experienced in, but if he had to gather anything from these readings, he might almost say…

"REM?" he asked. "He's in a REM state?"

"It does look that way," the older Doctor commented, smiling. "And a highly active REM state at that. He's dreaming of something."

"But what?" Whooves asked, looking down at the man with a slight frown. Considering the amount of magic he had reportedly displayed, he was surprisingly… normal looking. No glows, no obvious cellular degeneration (though the sonic had displayed something about his cells being overloaded and deteriorating), and no obvious mutation.

"As to that, I have no idea," the older Doctor said honestly.

"But he's from your world," Whooves pointed out with a frown.

The older Doctor shrugged. "Magic, as I'm sure you'll agree, is not our strong point."

Whooves raised an eyebrow. "Good point, though I'd like to think I'd learned something…"

The older Doctor turned back to the unconscious David Elliot, and sighed. "It is fortunate he's survived. I'm… happy. Elliot is…"

"He's a friend," Whooves supplied.

"He was the first man to see this face," the older Doctor said softly. "He witnessed my regeneration. It was he who witnessed my vow."

"Doctor, no more," Whooves said softly. "Right?"

The older Doctor said nothing, still looking at Elliot, but his expression was eloquent enough: sadness and regret, guilt and self-loathing, all beneath a thin mask of tiredness and stoicism. To see that face again was… haunting, and Whooves was forced to shake his head slightly to push away the horrors of another conflict, one so long in his past, and yet… never forgotten.

"Have you fought?" he asked, not even sure why he was. His counterpart turned his head slightly toward him, eyes flicking to meet Whooves' own.

"Yes," he said.

"What campaigns?" Whooves asked softly.

"You wouldn't know the names or the details," his counterpart pointed out.

"But you could tell me," Whooves replied.

The older Doctor turned away from him. "Sixteen acts of sabotage against Solamina's Iron Wall. Four acts of terrorism in Manehatten, three more in Las Pegasus. One hundred and six altercations between myself and Solaminan Royal Guard. I was also present in London, at Hull, and I served a tour in Plymouth." He paused. "There are a lot of bodies on the path behind me."

"Is… that all you've done?" Whooves asked. "Just fought?"

"I was responsible for the Exodus before my regeneration. I also opened the Blue Channel, a specific method for Exodites to flee Equestria to Britain," the older Doctor said after a moment, sounding faintly dismissive. "I also saved Lyra, or helped to."

"What happened to her?" Whooves asked.

"Magical injury," his counterpart replied. "I helped the BDF and Resistance repair the damage."

"What kind of damage?" Whooves asked softly. The death of his Lyra was still a sore point, and - death of his counterpart to Derpy (Ditzy, he reminded himself, his was called Ditzy) notwithstanding - some small part of him (childishly) resented that this other him could achieve something where he had not.

"Massive internal injuries," the older Doctor said slowly, frowning as he returned to Elliot, still scanning. "I brought complicated nanotechnological remedies to bear on the problem - brute force repair algorithms and augmentation primarily. Lyra is… alive. She is heavily supported by advanced mechanical augmentation, but she is alive." He paused. "I also left the nanotechnology for the humans to study."

"Risky," Whooves commented.

"Of course," the older Doctor replied. "They are at war. A war they cannot win by force of arms. Risks… are acceptable."

There was a pause as Whooves considered his counterpart's words.

"What about you?" the older Doctor asked. "What have you done while helping the humans of this world?"

Whooves sighed. "Mainly research work, some odd bits and bobs here, a bit of subtle sabotage or transportation there, that one time I had to extract Trixie from the middle of a tricky situation and - yeah, stuff like that." He paused. "I've killed before. I smashed a prison to free Derpy, for one, but that’s one of very few occasions. I try not to if I can help it."

The older Doctor sighed, a wry smile on his face.

"Then perhaps," he said softly, "you have been luckier than I have. Britain… my Britain… doesn’t have the luxury of that choice." He put his sonic screwdriver away, frowning slightly. "Now, I should go speak with your Cheerilee and Major Bauer. No doubt they have questions."

Whooves nodded. "They'll be in the conference room. Follow me."

***

Conference room, New York PHL/UN Base, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Once they were in the conference room, Cheerilee turned to look at Luna and Discord, her face calm and yet stern. Stephan folded his arms, looking impassive - he was willing to trust these two, given the fact that they (and Elliot) had killed the clone and saved a lot of his people's lives, but that didn't mean he'd throw caution out of the window. Next to him, Trixie was frowning suspiciously.

"So," Cheerilee said without further preamble, "who are you and why are you here?"

Luna and Discord exchanged glances, but it was Luna who spoke. From a saddlebag she had been carrying, she pulled a set of scrolls, before laying them out on the table in front of Cheerilee, Stephan and Trixie, who all stared at the papers with near-identical frowns on their faces.

"And what are these?" Cheerilee asked.

"Treaties," Luna replied simply, looking at Cheerilee with interest as the mare's rune glowed.

"These are…" Cheerilee's breath hitched a bit, her eyes trained at the bottom on the scroll. "This is Marcus' signature."

"Let me see that," Stephan asked as he gently grabbed the scroll from her grasp and looked it over. He frowned at it. "How can you be sure?"

"He does this thing with his 'u' and 's' in his name, and connects the two without leaving the paper he signs off on," Cheerilee answered, gaining a look from the entire table. She smiled sheepishly. "I've seen his signature thousands of times, plus I'm a teacher, I have to make sure my students are doing their own homework instead of paying for others to do it. And if he was a Newfoal, his signature would change drastically if he had to use a horn or his mouth. This was done by his hand."

"This says its from the Minotaur Republic?" Stephan said quietly, looking over to see the others grabbing various scrolls.

"Griffon Kingdom… from Queen Hedwig?" Cheerilee asked. "Where did you get this?"

"There's one from the Zebra Tribal Council," Trixie said, amazed. "I never thought I'd see anything from them ever again."

"Even the Diamond Dogs, too?" Stephan said. "Didn't even know they had a government."

"Its more like a large group with a canine pack mentality," Trixie explained as she pulled out another scroll. She opened it and her jaw dropped, eyes focused on the name at the bottom. "The Changeling Hive, from Queen Chrysalis herself."

"These are… these are all declarations of war?!" Stephan stared at Luna and Discord in shock.

Discord only nodded, uncharacteristically serious.

"Half of them are dead in your world," Luna said quietly. "But where we come from, they are very much alive. Celestia - my sister, not that… abomination - knows of your plight very well."

"How?" Cheerilee demanded, her eyes focused on the alicorn. "Marcus would have tried to kill her the moment he saw her."

"He did try," Luna said quietly, looking away from them. "He attempted to kill the Elements as well. An accident occurred between Celestia and Marcus, in an attempt to calm the situation before it escalated further. My sister knows of Marcus' plight thanks to that accident. It haunts her even now, possibly for the rest of her life."

No one said anything before Luna gathered the scrolls and placed them back into the saddle and set it before Stephan. "Know this, you are no longer alone in your fight. Equestria, our Equestria, will join you."

There was a long moment's pause as the PHL troops tried to run this through their heads. Stephan threw Cheerilee a look, and she frowned slightly, as though not believing it.

"Why?" she asked. "Why would you risk everything to help us? This isn't your war."

"It is our war," Discord put in. "More than you realise. The Tyrant and her puppet-master won't stop here, and she won't stop with this humanity. Our world, then another, then another, ad infinitum until the end of time…"

"She is a threat to everything, and if she is not stopped now, by us, then nothing ever will," Luna added. "We must stop her." She paused. "Even if she were not a threat… your people need our help."

Cheerilee turned to Stephan, who shrugged.

"Can't deny her logic," he said softly. He turned back to the two of them. "But you said 'the Tyrant and her puppet master' - what do you mean?"

Discord whistled through his mismatched teeth. "A long time ago, there was a being called 'Tirek' - he's a very old enemy of mine, and before you ask, it was well before the time of even Celestia and Luna. Tirek is controlling her, or more accurately manipulating her to do this. As far as I know, the Celestia of old is gone, buried beneath this new Tyrant in her place."

"So the same is happening to the Elements as well?" Cheerilee asked, looking at Luna, who seemed to be shifting uncomfortably. "They are being controlled by this 'Tirek'?"

"No," Luna said, causing them to look to her. "They are enslaved within their minds, forced to watch as mental homunculi control their every action as if they were mere puppets."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Stephan asked, frowning in confusion..

"It means they're being tortured, Major," Discord put in. "Tortured beyond anything you can imagine. Lulu here saw into Twilight Sparkle's mind, and the resultant homicidal rage - well, you saw for yourself."

Stephan frowned, as did Trixie.

"Still hard to believe," the Blue Spy said.

Luna sighed. "Then see for yourself."

Luna's horn glowed before an image of Twilight appeared in the center of the table. Cheerilee gasped and covered her mouth with her hoof, Trixie looked away with her eyes closed, while Stephan reached over and pulled her into his lap to hug her.

Twilight sat within a dead tree-stump, roots digging into her corpse-like body as she looked at all of them with eyes filled with tears. Her coat was blotchy and patched and her mane frayed and tinged with grey. As they watched, she began to shout at them.

"KILL ME! PLEASE! I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE! KILL ME SO I DON'T HAVE TO WATCH MYSELF HURT ANYONE AND BE MADE TO ENJOY IT! KILL ME TO END THIS NIGHTMARE! KILL THE ELEMENTS OF HARMONY!"

And then she disappeared, leaving only the haunted face of Luna.

"Mein Gott," Stephan said softly. "Das ist verrückt."

"I heartily agree," a new voice spoke.

As one, everyone and everypony turned to look at the grim-set face of the older Doctor Hooves, stood with his young counterpart, who was staring at the spot Luna's projection had been with wide, horrified eyes.

"What are you doing here, Doctor?" Cheerilee asked the younger Whooves.

"He… my counterpart wanted to speak with you," Whooves said quietly, still apparently shaken by what he had witnessed - they all were.

"Indeed," the older Doctor said softly, looking at Luna with a keen eye. "Princess, you have witnessed horrific things for one your age. I am sorry."

"I am older than I look," the Princess replied with a slight smile.

"And yet, not as old as you could be," the old Doctor replied. He turned to Cheerilee and Stephan. "Major Bauer. And Cheerilee - apologies if I do not know your rank…"

"Lieutenant Colonel," the mare said softly. "And you're Doctor Whooves?"

"The Doctor will suffice," the old pony said with a tight smile. "'Doctor Hooves' is a rather tired old name, and… well, it isn't me, anymore. We’re not quite the same pony, after all. If you have to call me anything other than Doctor, 'Clock Smith' will suffice."

"Alright, 'Clock Smith'," Cheerilee said, frowning. She noted the broken hourglass cutie mark on his flank with interest - there was something off about him, but she couldn't tell what. "I believe you can shed some light on Mr Elliot?"

"Some," 'Clock Smith' said with a slight smile. "Not as much as you would like, perhaps. But some."

"That would be good," Luna said softly, frowning at him. "Myself and Discord know little of him."

"I'd be quite surprised if you knew anything about him," Clock Smith said with a raised eyebrow.

"We know he packs a mean punch, though not as well as the clone knows it," Discord said, with a wry, humourless smile.

Clock Smith chuckled, though it lacked mirth. "Yes, there is that." He paused. "Myself and Elliot come from a world facing a remarkably similar problem to yours, as you know."

"Under attack by a Tyrant called - what was it? Solemna?" Stephan asked, folding his arms.

"Astra Solamina Maxima," Clock Smith corrected, frowning. "The name Princess Celestia took when she declared herself Empress. Old high Equestrian, I believe."

"Old high Equestrian?" Luna repeated with a frown. "I'm not familiar with it."

"Of course not," Clock Smith said with a slight smile. "Different Equestrias. You also do not know the name 'Sidera Somniata,' I take it?"

Luna shook her head, and the older Doctor nodded.

"Then there are many more differences between your Equestria and mine than meets the eye," he said. He sighed, looking troubled. "For two years prior to her declaration of Empire, Celestia stood back and watched the human race be obliterated by the Barrier that extended from Portal Island. When the Barrier stopped…"

"'Stopped'?" Discord repeated. "What stopped it?"

"Earth magic," the old pony explained. "right when we thought the Barrier was about to consume Britain along with everywhere else, a barrier of Earth magic appeared and stopped it."

"The same thing that happened here just recently," Stephan said, "but we had to have Zecora coax Earth's magic into doing that, and it isn't going to hold forever."

"The Earth myself and Elliot are from is a little more magically advanced, then," the old pony observed dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Our Barrier has held for six years, and has never shown any sign of abating."

"Apparently so," Cheerilee said. "But according to Elliot, the weapons your world has are considerably less advanced, and you have far less material to work with."

"That is true," Clock Smith said. "There were only ever a set number of weapons brought to Britain, and many were lost or confiscated. There are… unfortunately few resources to hand for the purpose of making weapons."

There was a long pause as everyone and everypony in the room took this into consideration.

"Perhaps you should explain what is going on in your world in more depth," Luna said, frowning at him. "Myself and Discord are only familiar with the Equestria attacking this Earth, and not with any others."

"While you're doing that," Discord said, "I might have a look at this 'Elliot' guy - see what I can gather."

He snapped a claw and disappeared. The older Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Does he do that often?" he asked Luna.

The Moon Diarch sighed. "More often than you might think."

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

The airport was full of the wounded, amputees with new limbs being measured and grafted on, the ones with shrapnel inside their bodies. Normally, the good medical staff would have had to use the new thaumic treatments sparingly and rely on human medicine for injuries that it could barely handle, but today, something had changed.

Today, people and ponies alike were waking up in… yes, really. Stable condition.

"I'll heal her, that's what I'll do," a pegasus medic muttered, fluttering down an aisle between several beds. "I'll just encourage so much growth that she's a goddamn mass of tumors that can't move."

But even with this new miracle, or possibly earth shattering terror, the revelation that magic wasn't harmful, everyone was talking about the new guy. The one that had fought Queen Celestia on his own, channeled magic none of them had thought possible, and, most importantly, won.

The PHL hadn't taken the time to release a statement to the men that had been in that city. It was still trying to pull itself together, after a week of the most intense fighting any of them had yet seen. But rumors were still circulating…

Kraber could hear them outside the door. His ribs were knitting themselves back together, thanks to the healing and setting spells that were being beamed into his ribs.

He had the stuffed animals he'd carried with him all this way. With the exception of Ambassador Nikai The Second, who was still with Dancing Day. His eyes had dark circles under them, he was trembling, his skin was almost gray, his eyes darted from side to side, his hair was lank and greasy… he looked almost dead. He was dimly aware that something should hurt like hell. Thankfully, nothing major had broken, but Kraber was in the bed more for rest than anything.

Besides, assuming that the Luna and Discord who had helped against the Tyrant's clone were from some sort of 'good' Equestria (which just reminded him of Star Trek - 'We are trapped in a savage parallel universe from which we must escape within four hours, or I will face a death sentence at Mr. Spock's hands…'), then he knew Major Bauer, Lieutenant Trixie, Colonel (emphatically not 'commander') Renee, and Cheerilee wouldn't want him to be involved with the negotiations, and they certainly wouldn't want him going there.

He chuckled idly at the thought. He and Aegis would be the first to admit it – Kraber would have a psychotic break as soon as he got there. Only an idiot would have thought he should go there.

His mind wandered as he sat, playing Warframe next to Aegis, thinking about what he had overheard about the Elements in that hushed conversation between Luna and Discord. They were… what? prisoners in their own minds? Was that possible? A part of him - the part of him that wanted to kill them slowly and painfully, especially Pinkie (fokking mank genaaide bergbok) Pie - wanted to dismiss that idea… but it made sense. Too much fokking sense.

I'd liked her when I talked to her over the phone. What was the real her like? What the FOK was she going through?! Nobody deserved that….

Wait…

Suddenly, so many things about Maud and that bizarre fokking note in the PHL archives made sense. We're not so different, are we? he wondered.

He decided he hated the queen more than ever – that fokkin teef saw some of the most trusted ponies in her empire just as assets, and made them into monsters just to ensure loyalty. Worse, from what Luna and Discord had said, she did it the most sadistic fokking way possible. 'Tortured in her own mind…'

"Shouldn't you be asleep by now?" Aegis asked. They were playing Warframe, and Kraber was playing Mesa, having armed himself with a Brakk and Boltor Prime.

Aegis, however, was using Rhino. How fitting. He's also armed himself with the Twin Gremlins and a Karak. The one from the game, not the common frankengun that Kraber's had the misfortune of using.

"I'm not sure I want to at this point," Kraber said, stifling a yawn.

"Hey, you said you'd sleep when you have time," Aegis replied. "And here we are…" he cast one foreleg out, pointing to nothing in particular with his hoof. "We have time!"

"I know, I know," Kraber said. "It's just… the kak we've seen…"

He shot one Infested ancient in the face.

"You wanna talk about it?" Aegis asked.

"No, but I think we probably should," Kraber said, his voice surprisingly soft. "Those… experiments."

“Those were b… fucking terrifying,” Aegis said. “I can’t believe the stuff that they made Twilight do, the torment she must have gone through… She must have been gone since at least the Crystal War, before any of her friends. She probably had it the worst of anypony.”

“Poor mare,” Kraber said. “Poor mare…” he sighed. “But then, we know where Gestalt came from, it’s not that much of a surprise, is i…”

He trailed off, his eyes wide.

"What?" Aegis asked.

"She was experimenting on people," Kraber repeated. "People that… couldn't have all come from after the Manifestation," he finished. "Son of a bitch."

"Wait. So you're saying that Celestia kidnapped people before the War, which means… which means… Birch…" Aegis continued, similarly aghast.

"MOTHER FOKKER!" they both yelled.

"Oh, the shit we two know, huh?" Kraber laughed afterwards, though it was a hollow thing.

"Aren't you two a little loud for him?" Discord asked, suddenly appearing in the room in a flash of light. He was, of course, referring to Elliot, lying soundly on a hospital bed next to them, a wide variety of medical instruments taking various readings on him.

"He's in a coma, he'll probably be kwaai," Kraber said, throwing Discord an annoyed glance.

"Right," Discord said, looking dubious. "Oh, hey! Warframe! I actually visited somewhere like that!"

"Did it have the Brakk?" Kraber asked. "Huge shotgun revolver, lots of tubes, looks really ugly?"

"I don't think so," Discord said.

"Fok!" Kraber said. "Always wanted one."

"So what're you here for?" Aegis asked.

"You two are just no fun, you know that?" Discord pouted.

"Eh, I've seen weirder," Kraber said matter-of-factly.

"Trust me, he has," Aegis said.

"So… of everyone here, you seem to know the most about the other patient," Discord said.

"Well, yes and no," Aegis said. "I mean, Elliot… this world's Elliot… did nearly outdrink us. But I've never met this one."

"Then who…" Discord looked at Kraber. "You. of course. How did you know?"

"I… I've had dreams and hallucinations before," Kraber said. "Horrible fokkin' nightmares. Other times I just see other places. And sometimes, he's in them."

"That's… interesting," Discord said. "Mind if I poke your brain? I need to-"

"NO!" Aegis yelled. It was impossible to miss the looks of panic on Aegis and Kraber's faces as they frantically waved their arms (and hooves) at Discord in halting gestures.

"What… why not?" Discord asked.

"A newfoal went into my mind once and exploded," Kraber said. "Also, I'm pretty sure that I'm somehow connected to an eldritch abomination. I don't think you want any of that."

Discord pondered this. Kraber's mind was already distinctly unhealthy, that was plain for anyone to see. His gaze travelled back to Elliot.

"Confused about him?" Kraber guessed.

"...I’ll investigate that later, but you might say that," Discord replied. "This entire situation was already complicated. It didn't need to be more complicated."

"How much more complicated could it be?" Kraber asked. "Celestia bad, Elements… bad-ish."

"How about 'Celestia bad, this guy good, his Celestia goodness-knows-what, his world goodness-knows-what,' and oh yes, 'his Celestia coming here too'?" Discord asked, raising an eyebrow. "There's an awful lot of things that could go wrong with this."

Kraber's face paled (if it were even possible). "Fok me."

"Another Tyrant…" Aegis added, frowning contemplatively. "That… yeah, that's shit. Really shit.

"Super-duper-ultra-mega shit," Kraber finished. "With an added amount of 'steek my my gat met 'n bebloede groot chainsaw, sal dit minder pynlik."

"I see you understand the potential seriousness," Discord said sagely, consulting a translation book that had appeared in his claw, half moon spectacles suddenly resting on his nose. He looked back at Elliot, hold his griffon claw out as he performed a magical scan. "Now, that's interesting."

"What is?" Kraber asked.

"There's an energy field… a sort of low level residue of a spell half-finished," Discord said slowly, his face lighting up. "Which I might be able to use to trace back to his world - if I just…"

His face lit up with a grin, and he looked up at Kraber and Aegis.

"Back in five," he said, winking. And then he vanished into thin air.

Aegis threw Kraber a look, and the Afrikaner shook his head.

"Why do I have a fokking bad feeling about this?" he asked rhetorically.

***

The Space Between.

Discord was flying through the dimension, as he had before, but this time it was as if he was riding on a rope, clutching on for dear life as it dragged him onward and onwards, ever closer to his destination…

***

Canterlot Palace, February 14th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030).

And suddenly, horribly, he found himself in the familiar space of the throne room of Canterlot.

It was exactly like Celestia's throne room had been before, with the same ornate (and boring) decorations and the same marble floor. The only exception what that there were many, many more guards than he had seen there before, even in his memories of Queen Celestia's home. An armoured Twilight Sparkle was stood near the throne, and upon it was sat a wide eyed Celestia, dressed in golden armour, a glaive sitting by her side. She did not seem to radiate the same sheer aura of power as Queen Celestia's clone had, and the expression of shock on her face seemed to dent any sense that she was confident, but looking around at the poses and stances of everypony here, there was no doubt as to who was in command of this throne room.

"Discord," she breathed upon catching sight of him, looking shocked. She stood, the glaive flying to her side, and she pointed it at him in challenge. "What are you doing here, Chaos-thing?!"

***

Reflection, part 1 - Plus Ca Change

Chapter Six: Reflection, part 1 - Plus Ca Change.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
redskin122004,
Jed R,

Editors
The Void,
TheIdiot,
RoyalPsycho.

***

"See, here I'm now sitting by myself, uh, er, talking to myself. That's, that's chaos theory."

Dr Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Park

"There is no greater danger than underestimating your opponent."
Lao Tzu.

***

Scottish Archives, February 14th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Sir Eric Smith stood at attention in front of Rupert Giles. The tired looking man, already in his late sixties, looked like he had aged half a decade since he had last spoken to Eric. Eric himself was dressed in simple military fatigues - whereas the rest of the potential Iron Clads had already been given their Paladin armour to begin training, they had told Eric that they had something special in mind for him.

"Sir Eric," he said, speaking softly and respectfully. "I've asked you here to discuss a request I have for you."

"Anything, sir," Eric said immediately.

"Don't be so eager to agree," Rupert cautioned him. "We're asking that you test a rather experimental piece of gear for us. We've managed to get enough titanium and circuitry for the task, thanks to some government stocks we recovered."

"Titanium, sir?" Eric asked, frowning slightly.

"Tell me, Eric," Rupert said, looking up at him. "The Paladin armour that the rest of the Iron Clads are equipped with - what do you know about it?"

"It's made of steel, bulky but lightweight thanks to the powered elements and enchantments woven into it, reasonably strong but with a lot of minor setbacks, most prominently the weaknesses to EMP and sonic attack, as well as having no special defence against magical assault," Eric rattled off at once. "Generally advanced stuff though - increases wearer's strength by one hundred fifty percent - standard Iron Clads get a boost of up to three hundred percent."

"All true," Giles said. "Well, we've been working on an upgraded Paladin armour design, codenamed the Mark II. Steel/titanium alloy - if we're to use it in any kind of numbers, we can't afford pure titanium. But the design offers increased mobility, less bulks, a few of the weaknesses are removed and…"

He trailed off, smiling slightly.

"And?" Eric asked.

Giles took his glasses off, his smile widening. "The maximum potential increase to your strength, speed and endurance with Paladin II is somewhere in the region of four hundred percent - Paladin II brings two hundred and fifty percent of that. I think that sounds like you might find it useful."

Eric's eyes widened. "It… it sounds magnificent."

"Indeed," Giles said. "However, we need a test-wearer for our prototype before the Council is willing to put the Mark II into production on any scale. We have the parts, we just need the signature."

"I agree," Eric said at once. "It will be fitting to wear such armour into battle."

"Good," Giles said. "I'll draw up the paperwork and get the armour signed off on."

***

Canterlot Palace, February 14th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - 'Solaminan' Equestria.

Faced with an armoured Alicorn that he was reasonably certain was a Tyrant Sun similar to one whose clone had been quite capable of fighting him to a standstill, aiming a glaive at him and clearly none-too-happy, Discord, Lord of Chaos, was understandably a little... put out, especially since this wasn't what he had initially been intending.

He blinked, cursing under his breath. He'd had quite enough Celestia - especially evil Celestia - for one lifetime, and would have rather preferred to have backup (and/or some kind of warning at least!) before finding himself in front of this one now.

Still, a brief visual analysis of her showed that there was no bag. This Celestia - nuts or not - was apparently running entirely under her own steam and not getting a boost from Tirek, which meant that maybe this would not be such a problem - he didn't know what kind of power she had, but with any luck she wouldn't be rocking the same boost as Tirek's pet Celly.

I hope, he added to himself.

"Celestia!" he said loudly."It's so good to see you!"

'Celestia' blinked as Discord appeared besides her, wrapping his arm around her and giving her a quick squeeze.

"Commander Sparkle," she said slowly, speaking in a neutral tone, "take the Guard contingent and leave. Now."

The armoured Twilight nodded slowly and walked out, motioning to the Guards as she went. A moment later, the room was empty.

Discord ignored this - he didn't sense anything too off about Twilight, either, but then again, he was dealing with an entire set of unknowns. He didn't like unknowns. They were… unknownsy.

"How have you been?" he asked her with a grin. "It's been ages since I've seen you! Perhaps we should sit down for tea, some delicious cake, and maybe a bit of a rigorous debate about chaos and harmony like the good old days."

"The 'good old days' where you slaughtered half the population of the planet, you mean?," 'Celestia' said icily. “Forgive me if I do not view those times so rosily.”

Discord raised an eyebrow at that. "Well… no, but to be fair, that wasn't me, me, per se."

Slaughtered half the planet? Now, that was an interesting claim. He couldn't be sure how accurate it was, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was in a tricky situation. Fortunately he knew what to do.

“Is that so,” she said, still glaring.

“I’d explain, but it’d probably be too complex for you, Celly dearie,” Discord said airily.

"Somehow, I doubt that,” she said grimly. “And you will address me as ‘Empress Solamina’.”

That's my luck for you.

"I will be sure to do just that," he said with a small smile. "Anyway, as much as I love talking to you I should probably go."

"Discord," she said quietly, narrowing her eyes at him. "I do not believe for one moment you came here just to 'go'."

"Really? Cause I left already." Discord said with smile, pulling out a small knife. Solamina's horn glowed with intent, only to falter as he stabbed himself in the skull, vanishing into a puff of smoke.

***

Equestria, February 14th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - 'Solaminan' Equus.

Miles away, in a distant wasteland, Discord frowned as he brushed himself off, scowling at the clones' cowardice.

"At least give me a few more minutes, sheesh," he muttered. "He didn't tell me these clones were rather wonky. No matter, time to go, I really don't want to be… ah come on."

Discord rolled aside, barely avoiding the pencil-thin lance of magic aimed at him, narrowly avoiding being speared by it.

"Celestia!” he greeted, trying to sound casual. “Or… Whatever your name is."

"Astra Solamina Maxima," a regal voice said coldly. She floated down and landed near him, her glaive at her side. "The sun resplendent and supreme."

"You know, that... is a really stupid name," he said glibly. “And a lot longer than ‘Celestia’.”

He kept a close eye on her, observing her. To all intents and purposes, she looked like a slightly-more-pompous version of his Celestia. He didn’t feel anything off, and there was no bag of Tirek. No bag meant no exterior power boost which begged the question of why this Celestia became a tyrant. Other him maybe?

"Tell me," she asked, ignoring his jibe. "Do you think there is anywhere you can run that I cannot find you?"

"I dunno, Tahiti?" he shrugged. "Something like that. I haven't really tried yet so gimme a few..."

"Do not try running again," she said coldly, her voice soft and dangerous. "You will find very quickly that you cannot run from me."

"I somehow doubt that," Discord said with a smile. He kept an eye on her, trying to sense for any fluctuations in her magical aura that might indicate an attack.

Solamina ignored him, twirling her glaive into a guard stance, and Discord grinned in bemusement. Just like that Elliot guy - thinks I'm gonna stand still and be hit by a big stick.

"Your business here, Discord," she said imperiously. "I would know it."

"Hm… Nah. Blah blah blah. I have nothing to say to you, I have no desire to talk to you, and I am leaving." Discord pulled out a sword of his own, a Musketeer-style moustache appearing on his face as a bright pink surcoat appeared over his body, a floppy-brimmed hat with a feather completing the image. "If you would try to stop me, engarde!"

He darted forward and lashed out, but Solamina blocked the hasty blow with ease with her glaive, a raised eyebrow on her face, before she sliced through Discord's sword with one strike.

"You were saying?" she asked, smirking slightly.

Discord stared at his ruined weapon before tossing it aside. "Oh… well… that's a shame. Ah well, plenty more where that came from."

"You're from her world," she said to him, bringing the glaive to his throat. He looked down at it, the tip almost touching his flesh, then back at her, frowning in distaste. "I can smell the difference. The stench of the apostate."

"I don't know what you mean,” the Draconequus said glibly. “I shower every year or so."

With a sudden, sharp motion, Discord threw a small ball to the ground, smoke filling the area as dozens of Discord's fled the area, flying off in different directions. Each of them blew apart from a vicious flurry of the same thin destructive spells from Solamina's horn. She smirked at the lone Discord still standing in the area, his eyes wide at the lightning-fast destruction of his clones.

"No," she said simply. "No tricks. No games. Explain yourself."

"Hmm… No," he said grinning. "But I've got a question for you. Do you think I am really here? Really?"

Discord smiled a bit, causing Solamina to look at him in confusion before feeling the impact of a clawed fist burst from the ground straight into her chin. She swung the glaive in an attempt to slice it off only for it fall apart before the blade could touch it and pulled back into the ground.

"I find it really hard to track something if they are using a clone and stick in the same area," the Draconequus commented.

"Enough of this," she growled. Her horn glowed... and suddenly, light seemed to bend around it. A spell shot out, blasting the clone into nothingness.

A moment later, Discord reappeared, a frown on his face - her attacks had already surprised him.

I… never sensed a thing, he thought. How is she able to hide her magical aura from -?

Another spell smashed into him, throwing him backwards. He grimaced in pain at the impact.

Shoot, he thought. Need to be more alert. If I can’t sense those strikes, I need to make extra sure she doesn’t hit me with ‘em.

One thing was certain though - this Solamina definitely had a power boost. He hadn't sensed it before, but now she was drawing on it, and it made her every bit as deadly as the Tyrant he had faced - more so, since this was not a clone.

That explains the Tyranty phase for this one then, he thought to himself. Whatever this power boost is, it might be having the same effect Tirek’s Bag had on Queen Celestia.

“You look a little worried, Discord,” she said idly.

“Well, I’m worried for you,” he said. "Just… tell you what, let me go get something from another world that could face you. Bit of a fairer fight, maybe."

"No," she said simply. "You will not run."

"And who's gonna stop me, you? The mare with the silly bit of tortured Latin for a name?" Discord scoffed. "Actually, that's not fair. I met Tortured Latin once, he was insane but you are worse. At least he had a good taste in decor."

She grinned at that, almost as though she could sense his thoughts. "You mock to make yourself seem brave, but I know the truth. You are afraid because, despite your feigned stupidity, you are no fool."

“Why thank you,” Discord said, grinning wryly.

“But you were unwise to come here,” Solamina continued. “You seem to think I am as I was of old - but I am not. I am more.”

“Hi more, I'm Discord." Discord said with a slight smirk, though it faded quickly. "If you're so powerful, why aren't I dead yet?"

Solamina chuckled. "Because I allow you to live."

"Like I never heard that before," he said with an attempt at a smug grin. "By the way, you should really watch your surroundings."

She scowled. "What is that supposed to mean -"

Solamina's voice was cut off as Discord dove back down into the ground as if was water, just as a meteorite slammed into the area, devastating the surrounding area as it threw up dust and debris.

Discord pulled himself out of the ground, on the other side of the world looking to the horizon. "I got… ten seconds."

"Five, actually," a voice said from behind him, sounding darkly amused. "Close though."

Discord turned. "Ah shoot."

She was behind him, looking somewhat ruffled. She was panting slightly, her eyes narrowed, but disconcertingly, there was a slight smirk still on her features.

Definitely harder to rattle than my Tyrant, he thought to himself.

“So,” she said quietly, spinning her glaive idly. “With our opening gambits in place, shall we play this game properly now?”

Discord tensed. This might be even harder than I thought.

***

Scottish Archives, February 14th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

"Alright," John Idle said, smirking slightly. "Wake 'em up."

Three teenagers were strapped into Hannibal Lecter-style harnesses, gags over their mouths and all of them securely strapped into straitjackets. The first was a redheaded girl with a streak of blonde through her hair - the ginger was almost too bright, and the streak of blonde too yellow. The second was a slightly shorter girl with purple hair streaked with teal. The third was slightly taller than the second, with turquoise hair streaked with a duller shade of blue. All three wore metal collars with a single light installed at the front. The most distinctive thing about each of them was the metal and gem pendants fused to each of their skins at the collar.

John, clad in his Paladin armour and itching for a fight, cracked his knuckles beneath the gauntlets of his armour. As he watched, one of his colleagues - a scientist in a labcoat - injected a stimulant first into the redhead, then the purple haired one, then the one with turquoise hair. Their sedation was heavy - for good reason - and John was not eager to wake them up. In fact, he was not eager to have anything to do with them. Still, it wasn't as though he was given much of a choice - orders were orders.

"Ok, Doc, get the fuck out," Idle said, grinning slightly. "Me and the lads have this."

The scientist immediately left, throwing Idle a glance as he did so. Everyone knew Idle's story - he had gone into Gloucester after the incident these three girls had caused. The "Gloucestershire Incident" had been referred to by some contemporary reports as "the single most vile non-pony related atrocity that had been committed since the war began": the town of Gloucester had been invaded by these three individuals, and whatever they had done, it had resulted in almost the entire town going mad. Anyone who had tried to stop them went as mad as the townsfolk, and it had taken a long distance sniper firing the most powerful tranquiliser they had to finally take them down.

Idle had been part of the initial response team post-incident… and it had not been a pleasant experience. He had already had a less-than-stellar reputation before then: he was abrasive, condescending, and his past as a hard line HLF member meant that he was unwilling to work with ponies (though he had, reluctantly, done so; beggars couldn't be choosers). His disdain for them, though, paled in comparison to his hatred for the GG3.

Now… they were going to use these three as weapons.

The first one to wake up was the turquoise haired one. She blinked, before looking at him. She took a breath, and then apparently only just realised that she was gagged. There were some muffled noises coming from her, but John quickly pulled out his modified Desert Eagle and aimed it right at her head.

"They say these can't hurt you," he said with a grin. "I really wanna test that. Please - give me an excuse. I really want you to give me an excuse."

She stopped making noise. A moment later, the other two woke up, and they both immediately saw the gun in his hand and - wisely - made no noises whatsoever. After a moment, he put the gun away and grinned.

"Right then, ladies and whores," he said. "Oh, sorry, there aren't any ladies here."

The three of them looked a combination of angry and afraid - the redhead showed the least fear, but every so often her eyes glanced at the holstered pistol.

"My name is John Idle, and I am your handler," he said, looking at the three of them with a slightly sadistic grin. "What that means is that your lives are in my hands. Unfortunately, I have not been given permission to terminate you unless you actively try something."

The turquoise haired girl made a noise, and he immediately drew the pistol and aimed it at her face.

"By 'something', I mean anything I don't like, and by 'terminate', I mean FUCKING BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT AND THEN STAMP ON WHAT'S LEFT OF THEM!" he yelled. "Is that clear?!"

The girl shut up, eyes wide with terror.

"I'm so glad," John said, putting the pistol away. "So. It has come to the attention of the Council, in their infinite wisdom, that you three might actually have some uses beyond eye candy and target practice. Don't believe it m'self but fuck it, I have orders. So this is what's gonna happen. We are gonna find out what use you can be. Then, you are gonna be put to use. I will accompany you in everything - all engagements, training sessions, and visits to the lavatory. Everything. You bitches will never, ever, ever get so much as a microsecond of time where my eye is not firmly trained on you and my pistol is not loaded in my holster ready to blow your heads off. Am I clear?"

The redhead and purple haired girl both nodded, and the turquoise haired girl mumbled. Idle looked at her, and then grinned viciously.

"Let me be clear as to how much power you have here," he said. He walked over to the turquoise haired girl and slapped her across the face. "I'm authorised to do that. I'm authorised to spit in your face. I'm authorised to kick you, punch you, shave hair, break fingers, parade you around naked in front of any leering bastard or sick bitch I can get in that finds you vaguely attractive, have you subjected to every single torture and humiliation I can think of, so long as none of it impacts your usefulness. And that includes the collars around your necks."

The three of them looked at their necks, only now realising that they wore collars. They looked confused, but Idle just grinned.

"That," he said, "is a shock collar. It is designed at a single command from my armour to send a shock through your system. Starts at ten volts. Ends somewhere in the region of seventy thousand. We didn't know how many volts it would take, so they've been quite liberal. Any time I like, I'm authorised to do this."

He pressed a button on his gauntlet. A moment later the turquoise haired girl yelped in pain as volts shot through her body from the collar.

"Some people would say this is unconscionable," Idle said. "That it's a horrible crime, that I'm a bastard that enjoys this."

They all looked up at him.

"You know what?" Idle said with a vicious smile. "They're right. And I don't give a flying shit what they think. Is that all clear?"

All three nodded, tears in the turquoise-haired one's eyes.

"So glad," Idle said, still grinning maliciously. "Now, chances are you're gonna be made to fight for the BDF - that's the noises I've been hearing. And in return for this service, none of you are gonna die. Well, no, I should say 'none of you will be killed by me'. I can't guarantee the Solaminan Empire won't try to eviscerate you, incinerate you, or obliterate you, but they're not my problem. They're your problem."

He looked at all three of them with an eager grin on his face.

"Any questions?" he asked. "No? Good."

***

Equestria, February 14th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - 'Solaminan' Equus.

Well, if I’ve got myself into this mess, might as well start seeing what she’s made of.

Discord began proceedings with ‘Solamina’ (seriously, that is a stupidname) by flashing behind her, bringing his claw up and throwing a few testers - spells not unlike the blunter spells thrown by her counterpart’s clone in Boston. Nothing particularly worth his time or effort, but easily enough to ruin the average pony’s day.

As he expected, the mare brought her glaive around, faster than he had anticipated, and blocked the spells with casual moves. He noted the glaive didn’t seem to be even remotely dented.

Magic? he thought, frowning slightly. Is it the source of her power, or is it just a really well enhanced weapon? He clucked his tongue unconsciously. Best to wait it out.

“So,” he said, landing as she turned to face him, unruffled. “Shall we duel?”

“I find it hard to believe you even know how to duel,” she said with a snort.

“Of course I know how to duel,” he said with a smirk. “I’m crazy, not stupid. It’s easy.”

He clicked his claw, and suddenly he was in an elegant white outfit, a fencing rapier in one hand and a fencing mask over his face.

“First,” he said, “we bow!”

He bowed, and behind him a giant crossbow shot an arrow at Solamina, whose wings spread as she leapt into the air to dodge the shot, one of her eyebrows quirking slightly.

“A crossbow?” she asked blandly.

“A crossbow!” he replied, grinning.

“That pun,” she said, her horn glowing, “is terrible.”

A spell shot out, needle thin, and he dodged sideways, snorting. “As if you’re a comedy critic.”

“No, I’m an Empress,” she said, and suddenly she darted forward, smashing into him and throwing him backwards. He landed heavily in the dirt, grunting from pain.

“Crap,” he swore. “Crap, crappity crap crap crap.”

“Language, Dragon Horse,” the Empress said, leisurely trotting towards him. “I must say, you were less of a potty mouth in my world.”

“You're criticising my language?” he said incredulously. “You’ve committed genocide on your Earth, and you're criticising my language?!”

She paused. “You've been talking to humans. So there was a crossover, as I sensed.”

Discord cursed inwardly. Shouldn't have said that. Should have been cleverer.

“I can talk to whoever I want,” he said. “You're not my mom.”

He snapped a claw, and suddenly, he was sat inside a giant, sleek, silvery machine shaped vaguely like a human. Solamina raised an eyebrow as the machine moved to be in front of her, before several compartments opened on it, revealing… missiles?

A hail of the projectiles suddenly shot out towards her, and her eyebrows shot up as her horn glowed, raising a shield as the projectiles exploded all around her. Smoke filled the air, as the explosions formed in the shape of Discord himself, standing in a heroic pose. Discord chuckled at that - a little vanity was surely acceptable in this situation, after all.

Suddenly, a bolt of golden light shot out, smashing through the machine. Discord snapped his claw, vanishing into thin air as the machine exploded. Appearing a few metres above his exploding mech, Discord growled.

“I liked that thing!” he yelled.

Growling slightly from irritation, Solamina glided until she was floating in front of him. The soot from the fireworks was fading from her, a soft glow surrounding her body. And then she was pristine, and a slight smirk appeared on her face.

“I don’t care,” she said simply.

“You know,” he said, frowning at her, “I was sure that would work.”

“I believe you,” she said, her smirk widening.

“Alright,” Discord said, snapping a claw. A blue surcoat and flamboyant hat appeared on his body, and a fencing sword in his hand. He brandished it. “That's it. Now we duel!”

“Indeed,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Discord grinned, and suddenly in his other hand there was a flintlock pistol, which fired at her.

She blocked the shot, but there was a sudden explosion and she was thrown backwards. She stopped in mid free fall, wings snapping outwards, and she glowered up at him. He was smiling.

“How'd you like that?!” he asked.

“I stand by my earlier statement,” she said bluntly. “You don't know how to duel.”

“Maybe I just don't want to duel,” he said. She's barely fazed. I'm losing my touch. Let's hope that's all I lose today. “Not wanting to is a bit different to not knowing how. Saying that, these guys might know.”

He snapped a claw, and disappeared.

“Madam!” a voice asked from below Solamina, and she looked down, to see three figures dressed similarly to how Discord had been waiting for her. An eyebrow quirking, she landed in front of them. All three were humans, stood in duelling stances with fencing swords.

“Greetings!” one said. “I am Aramis! This is Porthos and Athos, my brothers in arms -!”

Solamina brought her glaive up and charged, and before the three men could so much as move she had cut them all down. They disappeared in flashes of light.

“Where now, Discord?” Solamina asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Perhaps you should be more concerned with your own safety,” a rich, cultured voice said from behind her.

Solamina turned, to face a man with a glowing red blade of light, wearing a black tunic and a long brown cape. He was grey haired and bearded, and he had a haughty expression on his face, as though he considered Solamina beneath him somehow. Behind him were a pair of tall, skeletal figures, metallic and skull-faced, armed with crackling quarterstaves.

“And who are you?” she asked idly, bringing her glaive up to a guard stance.

“Count Dooku of Serenno,” the man replied serenely. “I believe you were seeking a duel, my lady.”

Before Solamina could react, he charged at her, bringing his blade up and launching an attack. Solamina, sighing, brought her glaive up to block, and then blocked another strike.

“Interesting,” he said. “Is your weapon made of Mandalorian Iron? Or perhaps Cortosis?”

“Neither,” she said idly. She shoved him backwards and stabbed forward, only for him to parry the blow and riposte, forcing her to block the strike.

She smiled. “An interesting style you have.”

“Thank you,” the Count replied.

“However,” Solamina continued, her smile turning vicious, “it will not be enough.”

She shoved him backwards again, and lashed out with a sweeping strike that he was forced to leap over - though it was surprising a man of that age could leap that high. She stabbed again, and this time he did not have time to riposte before she was hacking downward, forcing him to block, then hacking at one side and then another, forcing him to move his blade fast to keep up with her. With a growl, he leapt backwards, motioning his machines forward, and Solamina brought her glaive up to block the two things as they attacked, their staves crackling as they made contact with her weapon.

With a growl, she twirled the glaive and hacked one of the things in half, before decapitating the other. The top half of the first machine was sparking, but its arms were still trying to claw at her, and she stomped on it to finish it off. The decapitated machine was simply standing there, and she narrowed her eyes at it, before raising an eyebrow as it began moving again. SHe blocked the two strikes it threw with perfunctory moves, before stabbing it through the chest and channeling a small amount of power through her weapon, blasting the thing into pieces.

Before she could turn to look at him properly, she was already turning aside a blow from Dooku, who brought his blade inches from her mane, and actually burned a few hairs off. She raised an eyebrow, before suddenly spinning, back legs sweeping him from his feet. In a flash, she had spun again, and her glaive hacked through his middle, embedding itself in his chest. His wide eyes stared off into nothingness. She removed the glaive, and bowed her head slightly in respect to her fallen foe.

“You know,” Discord’s voice said from behind her, “the ‘apostate’, as you called her, would have killed him in a second with a big flashy spell.”

She turned to glare at Discord, who had his arms folded, a smirk on his mismatched features.

I could literally just summon five of him, and they might actually get the best of her, he thought to himself. Or five Darth Vaders. Or five Anakin Skywalkers. Or if I was feeling cruel, five Starkillers.

“I have no doubt she could,” Solamina said. “But do not mistake my lack of ‘flashiness’ for weakness.”

"Oh come on - where's the flashy spells and monologues," commented Discord with a fake groan. "The booms, the bangs, the speeches. It's just not the same. You don't have her… flare."

“‘Booms, bangs and speeches’ are the work of the unsubtle, the uncouth and the foolhardy,” Solamina snorted. “And I am none of those things.”

“What you also aren’t is that scary,” Discord said with a chuckle. “Fighting like that, if you ever got into a real fight you’d be done in five minutes.”

“It is a pity for you, then, that you have yet to provide me a ‘real’ fight,” Solamina smiled wickedly.

Discord raised an eyebrow. Oh, it is on.

He snapped a claw, and suddenly they were surrounded by what might have been a hundred vaguely human figures - they were all silver and sleek, save for brass helmets (or possibly their heads) that were brassy and metallic. They were all armed with various weapons - staves, mauls, that sort of thing, all with a similar mechanical theme.

Discord himself was dressed in a bright pink spandex suit, a visor over his eyes. He smirked.

Not thematic, having a Power Ranger fighting with Cogs, but who cares about themes?

“Cogs!” he yelled. “Attack!”

The things charged, swinging their weapons at Solamina. With a grin, she launched through them, and her glaive suddenly became a blur of motion, swinging through the Cogs before they could even react. A good half dozen simply exploded, disappearing all around her in sparks and flashes. She parried one blow, then another, dodged a kick, then swept two off of their feet and kicked another to pieces with a strong backhoof. She grinned, blocking more blows, before lashing out again, spinning her glaive and decapitating a good dozen of the metallic things.

She turned to face Discord, who came at her with a high pitched battlecry. She blocked both his strikes with ease, before lashing out, hitting him in the chest with the butt of her glaive. To her surprise, he fell backwards with an exaggerated cry of pain, sparks flying from his spandex suit.

She spun her glaive again and aimed it at him, a smile quirking at the edge of her mouth.

“Next?”

He got to his feet, a grimace on his features. He motioned for the Cogs to keep attacking, and she effortlessly blocked their strikes, before killing three more with a single sweep and sending a thin spell through another two, one after another. She turned, only to have to narrowly dodge one of Discord’s strike, before she grimaced and hit him over the head.

“Enough of this,” she said. Her horn glowed, and suddenly a shockwave lashed out, obliterating the remaining metallic figures and blasting Discord off of his feet, throwing him backwards until he hit a rock. His spandex outfit simply disappeared, and he grimaced in pain.

“You want a fight?” Solamina asked, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “You want to see what I can really do?”

“Is this a trick question?” Discord asked, still dazed. Why do I get the feeling I’m about to regret that jibe…?

Before Discord could finish that thought, his vision... shifted.

She still stood before him, a faint light emerging from her, pale and sickly and luminescent, but all around her, caressing her, covering her, clutching at her, was a shadow - at once formless and yet with a form, solid and liquid and smoke, and yet it seemed to have eyes despite being pure blackness. Long ropy tendrils of the darkness, slick and oily in appearance were folding over the Alicorn's body. Wherever they touched they seemed to leave an impression of themselves, like a stain on this Celestia's pristine coat.

Suddenly, almost as if they had realised Discord was watching them, several of the tendrils detached from Celestia and began to wriggle and writhe in Discord's direction.

"Ew," Discord muttered, trying to be glib despite the... unnerving nature of what it was seeing. "You should have that looked at. I hear that's bad for -"

He disappeared in a flash as a thin spell obliterated the little rock he had been leaning against.

"You will face me, Discord," Solamina intoned, her voice low and deep, her voice leaving a slight echo that hissed and whispered and twisted in the air.

Discord pulled his head out of the ground, scowling at her, though he found looking at her... difficult. The shadow still writhed around her form, and that blackness felt like the abyss was staring back at him, daring him to jump in and surrender to that pristine nothingness...

He shook his head clear of the thought and scowled.

"Why should I?" he asked. "You decided to pull the God Mode on."

She said nothing, but there was a smirk on her face, and the blackness still writhed, tendrils reaching out.

Discord stepped back, almost unconsciously. What was this? He could sense… something, but it was nothing like he had ever encountered before. Tirek's power, he knew about - it was familiar and nasty, like the stench of the smelliest, foulest pair of old socks right at the bottom of the wardrobe. This… this was different. As he kept trying to ignore the shadow writhing over her form, the tendrils beckoning him closer as they waved in non-existent wind. Ignore the staring thing, ignore it, don't look, just don't…

“Do you not want your real fight?” she asked, grinning.

Discord gulped. I guess now’s the time to say ‘spoke too soon’...

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

When the older Doctor returned to Elliot's room, he had his sonic screwdriver out and was scanning as he did so, eyes frowning slightly as he trotted in and ignoring Aegis and Kraber, who frowned at him, both confused by his behaviour - the look on his face made him look like he'd never been here before, and was surprised to find Elliot there.

"You ok, Doc?" Aegis asked.

The Doctor looked at him as though he'd grown two heads. He didn't respond, instead trotting up to Elliot. A brief scan later, he was frowning.

"This is not good," he said simply, speaking softly to himself. He turned to Aegis and Kraber, frowning thoughtfully. "Tell me, has this man performed any sort of strenuous magical effort in the past twenty four hours?"

"Uh, you know he has, Doc," Aegis said with a frown. "He fought -"

"Wait," the older Doctor said, holding up a hoof. "Do you… know me?"

"Yes?" Aegis said, looking at Kraber, who just shrugged.

"Ah," the Doctor said, frowning. "I believe I might be early."

"Yes, I really think you are," a figure from behind him said. The older Doctor turned, and found himself facing the younger Doctor Whooves.

"Ah," the older Doctor said again. "How early?"

"Easier to show you," Whooves said with a slight grimace. "Contact."

"Contact," the older Doctor repeated at once, nodding.

The two of them closed their eyes, and then there seemed almost to be some sort of unseen conversation between the two, each one nodding as if listening to something. A moment later, the older Doctor nodded, and opened his eyes.

"I see," he said, frowning as he adjusted to the mental conversation. "I should probably be going then."

"Probably," Whooves said. "Before you do though - I'm sorry for our first meeting. It was unbecoming of me."

"I will… bear that in mind," the older Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. "Right then."

And with that, he walked out. Aegis threw Kraber a look.

"Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey?" Kraber guessed with a shrug.

"Again with the talking like children," the voice of the older Doctor said, and he entered the room again, this time with his coat off and slung across his back. "Must you do that?"

"What's wrong with 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey'?" Whooves asked, looking genuinely confused.

"The fact that you actually need to ask that question astounds me," the older Doctor replied in an exasperated tone.

"Ok, so are you ok, Doc?" Aegis asked, repeating his earlier question.

"Better than I was when you last asked me that," the older Doctor said, smiling mirthlessly. "I'm more surprised that you two are."

"We've been through much worse," Kraber said, wincing a little.

"No doubt," the Doctor said drily. He sighed, before scanning Elliot again. "No improvement since I've been gone, then."

"But no deterioration," Whooves added, his own sonic out and buzzing slightly.

"For that, we must be grateful," the older Doctor said. He threw his counterpart a glance. "By the way - apology accepted. Really, I should probably have expected our meeting to go something like that."

"Thanks," Whooves said with a smile.

"So you two are done explaining things to Cheerilee then?" Kraber asked, looking between the two with as little confusion as he could muster.

"Pretty much," Whooves said. "Did Discord come through here?"

"Ja," Kraber said. "Then he left again - said something about following a residue back to Elliot's world…?"

The older Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I would be fascinated to see if that worked. It might shorten my own trip back considerably…"

Before he could say anything else, Elliot suddenly spasmed. Kraber was up in a shot, holding him down as he grimaced and shuddered, pain wracking his features. The Doctors both had their screwdrivers out, trying to see exactly what was happening.

***

The Mindscape, nowhere.

Elliot found himself in a street, familiar and yet… strange. It was Hull - Victoria Square to be exact, the pockmarked and bullet-hole covered statue of the old Queen still standing in the middle of the square, unbroken. The sun was setting, orange playing across the sky, but the sunset was fast. Too fast for a natural sunset. There was something… off about it, something malicious in the creeping shadows of dusk. As if it was hungry, trying to consume the daylight...

He heard whispering coming from… somewhere, and frowned slightly, before turning his head, trying to find the source of it.

"Who's out there?!" he called.

There was no reply. Though he knew he was dreaming, and dreams often made no sense, he could feel that there was something more to this than met the eye. It was like there was some sort of foreign presence in his mind, an invasion that he could feel abstractly, even if he couldn't see or touch it yet.

"I said, who is out there?" he called out again.

...what-are-you?-What-do-you-want?-What-are-you-here-to-do...?

Elliot scowled. "Again with the whispering. A guy could get sick of that, you know."

It was clearer now - this was some sort of intrusion into the Mindscape. He tensed, and unconsciously held out a hand, summoning the astral form of Excalibur. Here, in the Mindscape, he had the power to access the Avatar's strength to a certain extent without necessarily hurting himself. He had the horrible feeling he would need it.

...you-are-a-threat-you-are-an-enemy-you-must-be-destroyed…

"If you think you can, I'm right here!" he yelled. "Come at me!"

The shadows seemed to creep closer as the sun set, and he could have sworn there were ghastly figures moving in the dusk beyond the range of human sight. He held up Excalibur, and it blazed with light, illuminating his immediate area. He climbed the steps of Victoria Square's statue, standing at the base of the statue as the shadows closed in.

The sun set, and then all around him was empty pitch blackness.

I am sorry for this, a calm, soft and regretful voice seemed to say from everywhere and nowhere, speaking quietly and yet resonating throughout the space, dead on the air and right behind him all at once. You've suffered enough in your own world that such an end as this seems almost unfair - maybe even cruel. But you are a threat to the Queen, and all threats must be silenced.

The shadows seemed to almost be fighting with the edges of the light surrounding Elliot. He growled.

"I'm not so easy to put down," he said, and he held Excalibur up. Suddenly, the blade flared with a deeper inner light that pushed outward against the shadows.

Not to be deterred, the unknown force pushed back against the light, shoving it until the shadows were almost right in his face: they were definitely solid, like a mass pushing against him. He growled, and pushed outward again, and again the shadows pushed back towards him.

...why-do-you-fight-it-is-inevitable-surrender…

Elliot gritted his teeth. "Never. You tell your thrice-damned Queen - I'll never surrender! Not to her, not to Solamina, not to anyone! If she wants me, she can come for me herself!"

He pushed a third time, and this time the light flared so brightly that the entire world seemed to be washed away by the sheer brightness of it. Elliot found himself standing in a featureless white void, alone…

And then there was a flash of light.

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Elliot's spasms faded and his face returned to the peaceful, neutral sleeping expression it had borne before.

"What the hell is that all about?" Kraber wondered aloud.

"I don't know," the older Doctor said, frowning at the readings on his sonic. "For a moment, it seemed like there was another brain pattern interrupting his own."

"Strange," Whooves said with a frown. "I've not seen readings like this before."

"Whatever it is, it seems to be gone now," the older Doctor said. "So his inbuilt defences might have kicked in."

"This is fokking weird," Kraber pointed out, frowning in concern. "Is that kinda thing likely to happen to anyone else?"

The older Doctor gave him a look. "We should hope not."

"Viktor?" Aegis asked. "Should we tell them about the…"

"The what?" Kraber asked.

"You know, that dream?" Aegis asked. "The one with Elliot in it?"

"Now's good a time as any," Kraber said. "Eish, no. Not that kind of dream. The plot-relevant kind of dream."

"What are you two talking about?" the older Doctor asked.

"Right," Kraber said. "Awhile back, I was pretty close to a psychotic break. And I kept getting these… visions. One of them had him leading a charge on Canterlot. Another, well… It seemed like he'd gone a bit too far in going after the Empire. Your Empire. Your version of it."

The two Doctors listened intently, the older stallion glancing at his younger compatriot with a slight raised eyebrow.

"I really hope he's from the first one," Aegis added. "Because if Discord went to the second one, we might have a new problem on our hands."

***

Equestria, February 14th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - 'Solaminan' Equus.

Discord floated away from Solamina, who watched impassively as he repositioned himself. The great dark mass was moving. It broiled and churned like the waves of the sea in a storm, following Solamina as she too took up position. Discord could feel something deep inside the darkness, a malign intelligence that seemed to be studying him, stripping him of his skin and flesh and gazing deep into his being even as he tried to do the same.

"Seriously?" he said, shaking his head slightly again. "Is this what it's like for ponies that try to fight me? Cheap tricks and copouts? You know what?! No! You and that Tyrant can suck donkey butt! That's cheating!"

"This from the reality breaker," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"I bend reality," Discord corrected. "Get it right!"

"My apologies," Solamina said insincerely. "If it makes you feel better, this will be over soon."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Discord asked rhetorically, glaring at her. And why do I get the horrible feeling you aren't bluffing?

“As I said, you aren’t stupid,” she said with a slow smile. “You know death when you face it.”

"Careful now, that kind of confidence could can lead to a lot of embarrassment,” Discord warned her, though his tone belied the confidence in his words. “For all you know, I’ve still got tricks up my sleeve." Discord held himself back, frowning as she smirked at him. "Though that probably explains why your humans are still walking around."

"The humans are at my mercy, and I will crush them as I choose," she replied with a shrug. "They do not require my... personal attentions. You, though..." she continued, still smirking. "I know you require a... special touch. I know your tricks. And while you have learned new tricks, they remain entirely predictable. As do you."

"Really?" Discord chuckled as he snapped his claw, various items appearing on his body. "Well, the multiverse tends to say otherwise."

"I know of the multiverse and the wonders it holds," she said with a smile. "And I know more of it than you seem to think. I also know how to dispel your chaos magics."

"Oh? Go ahead." Discord held out his arms, watching as a wave of dispelling magic poured over him. Solamina frowned as the items remained, and then, to Discord's disconcertion, she smiled again.

"Now that isintriguing," she murmured.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Discord replied. He levelled his bracer at her, a small gun popping out and into his grip. "Is it my turn?"

Solamina blinked as Discord squeezed the trigger, and a giant bullet flew out, tearing up the ground as it flew towards her. Sighing, she swung her glaive, cutting it into two with ease. What she wasn't ready for was the thrown dagger that Discord threw after he fired to cut her cheek. She dodged quickly, avoiding the blade with only a cut.

"Drat." Discord flew into the air, snapping his claw at the miss. "Really should've thrown that earlier - WHOA!"

Discord spilt his body in half, barely avoiding the blade trying to cut him into two. Solamina spun her weapon faster than thought, faster than sight, and it was all he could do to dodge the blows.

"I get the feeling that you don't get to do this often these days." Discord commented, only to cut apart from a swing. His body puffed into smoke. Another clone. "Hey! Those clones are actually alright!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, a soft glow enveloping her wound and making it vanish into nothing, her fur once more unmarked. And then, unsettlingly, she smiled again, wider this time.

"Amusing," she said. "Truly. I do hope my apostate counterpart has as much spirit. It has been quite an experience to bleed again. How I've missed having fights like this!"

"Trust me, you two will get along like that house I set on fire," Discord said, rubbing his claw. "Or you two might just kill each other. Hey, I got an idea, how about you two meet! Share tales, backstab each other, try to take over each other's little toys. It will be fun!"

"I am prepared to face the apostate," Solamina said slowly, the smile not wavering.

"Apostate… what a strange word to use," Discord commented.

"It is what she is," Solamina replied. "The apostate. The heretic. The false God, threatening the true Sun Resplendent!"

"So you would be?" Discord asked as he avoided another spell.

"I am a God," Solamina said evenly, still smiling at him. The shadow around her writhed and squirmed, still seeming to stare at Discord.

"Gods don't bleed," Discord retorted, ignoring it. "I should know, I've met a few."

She laughed at that. "Perhaps I should allow you to keep living in delusion a while longer. I've not laughed this much in years."

"Yeah, yeah." Discord waved off her laughter. He pulled out one of his Deadpool dolls and threw it at her. Solamina caught it in her telekinetic grip, raising an eyebrow as it changed into a human. She gave a grin as she twisted its neck and threw it aside.

"Oh pitiful," she commented. Her eyes widened slightly at a sword strike suddenly being aimed at her head. She scowled as she eviscerated the human with her glaive. "What manner of monster is this?"

"Deadpool," Discord commented, as he threw another doll out to her, frowning at the blue suit doll left before putting that away. "Meet his buddy."

"Yet more games? How tiresome," the Empress said with a slight scowl. Her horn glowed as she crushed the human with a telekinetic attack as it got back up, barely avoiding a swipe of ruby claws and attempted to cut this one down as well, but the creature was far quicker than necessarily possible. The cat like human creature was speeding around her, darting in and out and deftly avoiding her strikes. It darted forward, managing to cut her armour and scar her cheek, and she scowled.

"I'm growing tired of this," she commented. "It's not nearly as fun as it was five minutes ago."

Her horn glowed, and then suddenly a narrow beam of light pierced the cat-like creature, stopping it in its tracks before exploding it from the inside out in a blast of light. She smirked, flapping her wing to regain balance before landing on the ground, looking around the field and trying to get a sense for where Discord had disappeared to. She closed her eyes, and a moment later she grinned.

"You are right behind me," she said quietly. She turned and swung her glaive down, only for him to dodge and step back. "With four of your 'clones' stood at diagonal points further away in an effort to confuse me. Of course, they are somewhat different to you in their energy, and so that trick has, alas, expired in its usefulness."

The clones appeared and disappeared in puffs of smoke as her horn glowed, beams of power eradicating all four in narrow, focused attacks.

"Actually impressive," she said with a grin. "But your arsenal is going to run dry eventually, little chaos creature."

"Hm, it's not like I have a entire pocket filled with weapons…" Discord hovered overhead, then smiled. "Oh wait, I do!"

Whether they actually do anything is a different question.

Solamina rushed up at him, prepared to end the battle, then blinked as he held a zipper that appeared from nowhere and pulled it open. She got a hammer to the eye for her troubles, then found herself buried underneath an avalanche of them.

"Hahahaha!" Discord laughed as the hammer pile grew, knowing it wouldn't slow her down for long, but he needed to get his kicks in.

"You know," her voice said from behind him, and he turned to see her floating behind him, her armour dented and battered and a cut above one eye that was already healing, "laughing like that gives you hiccoughs. I'm honestly surprised that you've never had them before."

As she spoke, her armour glowed, the damage disappearing and the armour gleaming like new. She smirked.

"Welp. I guess the fun is over." Discord rolled his shoulders, frowning at this apparent power. Only a very few beings could do something like this, and they were basically Gods. Whatever Solamina was, it was a perversion of it. She was close, but not quite on their level. Plus the amount of power she was pouring out was unheard of: only one other being he knew could do something similar and he was defeated by his mother.

"A pity," Solamina said with a soft smile. "I have so few worthy opponents. When they're gone, I always miss them."

"My mother could whoop you in her heyday," Discord ducked from the swinging of her weapon, managing to get a quick hits on her body which she ignored in favor in back hoofing him and sending him spinning away. "Then again, her fights tended to move the entire planet against her enemies."

"'Mother'?" Solamina repeated, raising an eyebrow. "In all the years you terrorised us, you never spoke of your origins. I find it curious you should do so now."

"I thought you knew the multiverse?" Discord said with a smirk. "Different rules, different beginnings. This is the centerpiece when going someplace else."

She narrowed her eyes, and then suddenly she smiled, a smile of recognition that made Discord feel entirely… unhappy.

"Of course," she said softly. "You aren't one of the Questioners, nor the child of Starswirl, nor Starswirl himself - you are the child of Faust." She chuckled. "Oh, well, now I know why you seem so weak. You're so much younger."

"I am not young," Discord snapped. "And I resent being called 'weak'. I am perfectly powerful. Just not against you and your... black... squiggly… thing."

"The child of Faust," she repeated, as though she hadn't heard him. "Which makes your Celestia one who did not fight the Unification War as I knew it, nor did she face the Discordant Legion - she, too, is of that lineage: younger, too. Well... that is something useful to know. Thank you."

Discord frowned - giving her information she apparently found useful was not exactly what he had planned on doing today, but then this entire sojourn was an accident, so he counted himself lucky it hadn't killed him yet. He flew back, frowning as he stared at her and trying to ignore the fact that he'd let slip something that she could use.

"So you've got a different history to my Celestia, big deal," he said. "You're still her. You still have the same hangups."

"What an assumption you make," she said with a smile.

"Better an assumption than just an ass," he retorted.

"Such eloquence from the lord of lies and deceit," Solamina said mockingly. "Speak again, oh Dragon Horse, and show me your intelligence."

"Well, if I'm showing my wit, you're showing all your nice tricks," he said in return, still backing off.

"Oh? What makes you think I have shown you my true power?" Solamina asked with a grin.

"Hm, you know I'm not so sure anymore," Discord said, rubbing his chin with a mocking tone, disguising his concern. He didn't know how powerful she really was, even now. He hadn't sensed her power before she'd started throwing it around, and attacks that he knew would have given the Queen's Clone pause - had given the clone pause - seemed to do nothing but amuse, scratch and irritate her. Maybe this was a sign of how powerful the Queen herself would be.

Maybe it's worse, he thought idly, and then he shook his head No, he would not think like that - her being as powerful as the Tyrant he knew was bad enough. Being worse… well, that was just ridiculous.

"Seriously, though," he said to her, tensing slightly as though preparing for a blow. "I can tell you've been holding back. You've been giving glimpses of what you can do, but you are not taking me seriously."

"This from the apparent lord not only of Chaos but of snark, quips and one-liners?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "If I was somepony else, and you were better at hiding your fear, I might think you thought this fight a joke."

"Yes, but that's me," Discord said with a shrug. "I'm allowed to not take things seriously. Part of the job description - 'God of Chaos, anarchy, and not taking things seriously. And also cheese'." He frowned. "Seriously, though. I'm having trouble just keeping you away from me, and that is…"

Utterly terrifying.

"... pretty impressive."

"Why thank you," she said with a sarcastic smirk. "And may I take the opportunity to congratulate you on amusing me so much."

"Why, thank you, I aim to please," he said, smirking, though he felt anything but amused. "Tell you something though - you might be strong, but I've seen powers that trumps yours in ways that you can't even dream."

He expected that to at least goad her, but to his surprise, she simply smiled.

"My power is sufficient enough to put you in your place," she said, "and when I am through with this world, I have eternity to study the Heart and learn all the secrets it can teach me."

"The what?" Discord asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It matters not," she shrugged, before smiling again. "But I'm curious now... can it be you came here without knowing what you faced?" she asked, now laughing even harder than before, the shadow clawing all around her seeming to grow in size, its grip on her tightening. "Oh tell me it is so. That would make this even better. You spoke of my power - do you know what you face? Do you know what we are? Do you understand yet?!"

"Eh…" Discord held his head, glaring at her. "I see you've definitely been holding back on me. I should try harder I suppose… Ugh…"

He stepped back, the nagging headachey sensation from earlier returning with ten times the force.

"I'm sorry," she asked, her voice tinged with dark power, "but were you saying something?"

"I have faced darkness before… I can….argh!" Discord groan as his eyes slowly began to lose focus.

"Ah, but you have never faced me, little chaos welp," she said, landing near him and smiling as the dark shadow that enveloped her form grew and grew, swallowing the light and leaving her as a single silhouette of light in the blackness. Worse still was the magical energy building around her, getting stronger and stronger with every passing moment. "This power is beyond any you have faced. Against this power, there are no tricks that can work, no quips that can mock, no defences, no recourses, no hope, and no victory. Against this power, you are nothing."

Discord frowned slightly. This was... off. He had thought the magical energy he had sensed was powerful before, but this was...

No. This is insane, and this is me thinking that. No one is that powerful. Nothing is. Unless…

"Nothing, huh? We'll see about that," he said, smirking to cover his sudden unease, before holding up a claw and snapping. Suddenly, a thousand giant red rockets, every one of them with the words 'Acme Anti Alicorn Assault Aero-projectile', appeared all around her... only to dissipate into black smoke without so much as a gesture from her as she kept walking towards him. Frowning, Discord snapped his claw again, and this time a battalion of B2 super-battle droids appeared, aiming laser rifles at her... only to, once again, dissipate, Solamina not even moving.

Growling, Discord decided for a blunter (and honestly, far more boring, but at least it got the point across) attack - he threw a ball of concussive destructive force right at her, strong enough to even give a God pause... and the shadow swallowed it whole, not even flinching.

"Oh, come on," he muttered. "This is ridiculous..."

And suddenly a shadowy tendril lashed out. Panicking slightly, he raised a claw and a shield appeared, blocking the tendril for a moment, but the shield broke as soon as it appeared and he was forced back. Another tendril lashed out, and again he tried to raise a shield. Again, he was driven back.

"There is nothing," the voice of Solamina, seemingly coming from all around him, said. "Nothing in all existence... no power, no force, no light... that can defeat darkness!"

"Well, you have… to have light to have darkness… you know-grk!" Discord realized he said the wrong thing as the pressure on his head increased.

Suddenly one of the tentacles that had been attached to Solamina lashed out and grabbed his wrist. Discord cringed as a bizarre and terrible sensation rippled up his arm with the shadow's touch. It was like pain and revulsion at the same time, as if the shadow's very presence were violating him.

Another grabbed his other wrist, and he was dragged to his feet, facing her. Another pair grabbed his legs, making sure he couldn't kick out. And then... first he was slammed into the ground, fast enough to break bones and bruise the flesh. Groaning, he found himself thrown into a rock formation, the tentacles not releasing their grip as they smashed him into the ground again. Finally, he was smashed into the side of a mountain, the grip not releasing, and there she was...

She was a fiery, blinding form at the heart of the shadow, and he felt as much as saw her gaze upon him, boring into him.

"Look at… at this beaut," Discord choked out, laughing as he was held against the mountain. "I am… in… a right… mess."

"Always talking. Never understanding."

"Maybe I don't want to…" he gasped as he felt agony through his entire body.

"Then consider it my final gift to you. You get to know who I am."

"I know enough of who you are!" he yelled. "You're a crazy Alicorn with delusions of grandeur, and you're hardly the first I've met!"

There was a dark chuckling from the glowing figure. "You delusional fool. Now, you die."

"Wait, wait!" he said. "Before I die - can I have some last words?"

The figure paused briefly. "You may have that."

"First off - that was the most cliche line ever," he struggled to say. She growled. "Also... I have a gift for you as well."

And suddenly, he snapped his claw as a portal appeared before Solamina's body, something crashing into and sending her rolling into the ground at near supersonic speeds.

Discord groaned as he collapsed, the tendrils momentarily gone from him. It was everything he could to try and open a portal to a black hole or some sort of demon dimension. His mind was on the rocks; whatever that thing was, it gave his mental defenses a good run. And this was after he faced that melting bird monster that all but obliterated his mind. Still... he didn't expect the distraction to last more than a minute.

Ah well, he thought. There are worse ways to go than snarling at Celly...

"You know," a new voice said in his ear, "I was hoping that if I met another me, he'd be less of an absolute imbecile."

There was a flash of light.

***

Solamina tore the thing that attacked her apart, scattering the demonic essence of whatever it had been (some sort of faceless thing) into oblivion in an instant. She narrowed her eyes as she noted the lack of Discord, and she couldn't sense him anywhere - not even in the vicinity. Her power slowly receded, the full strength she could call upon no longer necessary, and she closed her eyes, calming herself, until she was merely Solamina again, armoured and regal.

"So he ran again," she murmured to herself. "I see." She took a breath. "Very well then."

At first, she felt frustrated - cheated of her victory over the chaotic being. Then a greater part of her felt vague concern - if this was the Discord of the other world, and he had something to do with her apostate counterpart...

No. He would not serve her willingly in any world. And the Queen apostate would not allow him such free reign, nor allow him such power. Could it mean there was another player in this war? Things were getting so exciting...

She chuckled, thinking over the fight. It had been... interesting. Almost a challenge for a brief moment. Still - she was more than confident: she had yet to face anything that had truly threatened her, and though she expected the apostate at least to be a true challenge, she was confident that she could face that one with… well, if not no fear of defeat, then no major fear. When the apostate came, Solamina would obliterate her. Everything else... was just a distraction. And the humans on that tiny island? An irritating holdout, too small for her to concentrate everything on, too large to simply collapse on its own for far too long. They could run out of bullets, and they'd still fight like wild beasts with spears and rocks.

Discord's words about her counterpart's "Power", though… now they were a concern - it implied beyond what his Celestia should have been capable of , but all that proved was that her decision to temporarily suspend her campaign against the humans and bring her forces home to prepare was wise. Still… she frowned, mulling things over in her mind. It suddenly (and quite horribly) occurred to her that she had not been expecting Discord to appear - and if he hadn't appeared right in front of her, she wasn't sure she would have known he was here at all.

If he can hide, she can hide. She is me, and I could do it. If she can hide… there is nothing stopping the apostate from sending forces here in secret. If it were me, if I had so boldly declared my intent, I would not do so were I not confident, and I would not be so confident unless...

And with that thought, she teleported away. There were things she needed to do, preparations she needed to make. She had stood idle, built a defence… but now she had been reminded that defence was not everything.

War was a chess game, and chess was about taking ground as well as defending it - it was time for her to make her move.

***

Nowhere.

When Discord finally awoke, he found himself staring into a very familiar pair of eyes, attached to a body that was in every way identical to his own, right down to the snaggle-tooth in the frowning mouth.

"Oh," he said to the other Discord. "Hello."

***

Reflection, part 2 - DisQordant

Chapter Seven: Reflection, part 2 - DisQordant.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
redskin122004,
The Void,
Jed R.

Editors
TheIdiot,
RoyalPsycho.

***

"You judge yourselves against the pitiful adversaries you've encountered so far: the Romulans, the Klingons... they're nothing compared to what's waiting. Picard, you are about to move into areas of the galaxy containing wonders more incredible than you can possibly imagine... and terrors to freeze your soul."
Q,Star Trek: The Next Generation: Q-Who.

"Now, look who's a liar. Anyone can plainly see that I'm not big at all."
Discord, Keep Calm and Flutter On.

***

Scottish Archives, February 17th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth.

Almost a month after Elliot's disappearance...

"GG3, Iron Clads... we have been busy, haven't we?"

In front of Hell Blazer stood a concerned Giles with a paper in one hand. His other hand was unconsciously fumbling his tie. He gave Hell Blazer a look. He knew what was on that paper.

"I rather think everyone is," continued Giles softly.

Hell Blazer barked a short laugh. He had been in one of the Archive's study rooms, looking over improvements that had been requested for newer models of the Iron Clads. The study rooms of the Archive were lined wall to wall with books of knowledge long since forgotten, for better and for worse. In the centre of the room, with a growing number of marks as the years went by, was a table covered with plans and paperwork. On this paperwork was stored, in no uncertain terms, the future itself. Weapons of all kinds that had been thought of, but the time or the resources to make them a reality hadn't been there. They had been dismissed as futile dreams. Now, with the sudden temporary lull they had been given, thanks to the retreat of Solamina's forces, the Council had finally been able to implement a few of them. This left Hell Blazer to go over the plans and see what he could do to help, mainly in terms of magical augmentations for weapons and other equipment.

There were bags under his eyes, evidence that he had been deprived of sleep for the past few days, and his patience for the Council had been used up a while ago. The stallion growled as Giles approached him. Hell Blazer knew what he was here for.

"I'm running out of ways I can tell them gits 'no'," the pony said. Hell Blazer stepped away from the table and removed a box of cigarettes from his jacket.

Giles sighed. "I don't think 'no' is going to cut it this time."

Hell Blazer paused, one hoof held up in protest.

"Neither is what viciously creative profanity you come up with next," Giles said preemptively, gingerly placing the document on the table and lighting Hell Blazer's cigarette. He watched the former John's eyes scan the page, his face cringing the closer he got to the finish.

"Fuck. You're fucking shitting me," Hell Blazer muttered.

"I wish I was. Sadly it's -"

"You are fucking joking me!" the stallion roared. "I've told them he's not dead so often they could sell bu - fucking t-shirts with it on and the cunts still want me to try again! I have damn near everyone in the know volunteering themselves for the process, and I just have to keep saying 'no, no, no, NO!"

Giles frowned. "Is that actually possible?"

Hell Blazer began to pace the room, muttering so quickly that a now confused Giles could only make out every other word, he was pretty sure those words weren't technical terms for anything pleasant. A steady stream of Liverpudlian profanity issued forth from his mouth, few of which were contained within complete sentences. The most coherent things Giles could get in edgewise were along the lines of:

"Bloody idiots don't understand... all that magic has to go somewhere if he's dead, and we haven't seen a fucking thing like that... it was damn risky before, but nooooo…."

"They have someone ready for you to 'use'," said Giles.

Hell Blazer stopped and glared at Giles. He threw his cigarette on the floor and crushed it under his hoof, grinding it into the ground.

"I don't have any say with this, do I?" Hell Blazer asked.

"You can decide what jacket you want to wear and that's about it," Giles replied, sharing his friend's annoyance. "But even if he's not dead, he's also not here. They need something."

He gestured for Hell Blazer to follow and he did so, letting out his frustration on the door as he bucked it shut. They were on their way to the Council member whose name was both on the document and being cursed at by Hell Blazer.

"What's the point of asking me to advise," the stallion began, "if every goddamn time I say we shouldn't fucking do it, they ignore me?"

"Anderson should be in one of the labs waiting for us," Giles explained.

Hell Blazer grunted, building up to another rant.

"I ran into Lyra on the way here, by the way."

Hell Blazer's annoyance faded for a moment.

"What did she think of the idea?" he asked.

"Same as you. Almost as much swearing, too. It's disrespectful to Elliot - but we can't do anything about it." The anger in Giles' voice was restrained. "The order he gave you is the only reason we have to do it."

"He can take that order and shove it up his -"

"Up my what?" interrupted a new voice.

In front of the two men of magic was a man of order. Glaring at the two, with a technologically enhanced mare by his side, was General Paul Anderson, member of the Council and overseer of the "Albion.2" project. According to the order he gave them, he was giving this project the gift of his personal appearance. Yay.

He loomed over them as they approached.

"If you'd let me finish," Hell Blazer continued, "I was going to say you could shove it up your arse. Sideways."

Anderson glowered at him.

"All due respect sir," Hell Blazer added. He gave Anderson his cheesiest grin before walking up to Lyra. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"The Avatar is one of -"

Hell Blazer raised an eyebrow. "One of."

"- our most important factors against Solamina," Anderson continued. "As soon as this new Avatar is created, I want to see if he is ready to work immediately."

"He'll still be human," Giles pointed out.

Anderson turned to Giles. The war was beginning to take its toll on Anderson. His dark hair had a few wild grey ones that Giles could see.

"He'll also have a duty."

Giles fell silent.

"You know as well as I do that Elliot is probably dead. We need to have another Avatar," Anderson said sternly.

"And you know as well as I do what the risks are," Hell Blazer responded. "Elliot could have died at any time. He could have combusted and taken a city with him and doomed us all when we needed him most. It was hard enough to make -"

"I know that, dammit," Anderson said, voice calm. "But in case you haven't noticed, Elliot was our heavy hitter. Elliot was our support. He was so many of our lines of defense that without him, we can't afford to sit on our arses and do nothing. I realize that this might be a terrible idea -"

"More polite than how I would have put it," Hell Blazer interrupted.

"In which case, how many ideas do you have?" Anderson asked.

Hell Blazer couldn't answer.

"Exactly," the general said. "I hate to say it, but I have the only idea. It worked the last time and it worked well, and you have to know that no matter how long you can put this off… we'll do it anyway."

"You bastard," Hell Blazer said.

"Think what you like. This isn't about me," Anderson said. "It's about all of us. This isn't blackmail or what have you. Promise. But if the people find out their Avatar is gone, for good, they'll want another. And if we don't -"

"We'll probably hold together," Giles said. "The lull hasn't abated and we've made excellent progress…"

"I don't want to deal in probabilities," Anderson said with a scowl. "Elliot probably could have saved us. But now? He's gone. I can respect your disagreement, but we need something more."

Giles began to follow Hell Blazer. "Which lab is he in?"

***

Nowhere.

Had you asked Discord if he was having a good week… he might have had trouble giving you an answer. Two fights with two different versions of an insane Celestia in the space of as many days? That was… well, bad for his health, he supposed.

"You're an idiot," the other Discord said sharply. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Discord sat up, rubbing his head and trying to recompose himself.

The two of them were in a white, shapeless, empty void, which must have been a pocket dimension of some kind. Discord frowned slightly at his 'counterpart': though they looked exactly the same, they were two entirely different creations, that much Discord could sense.

"So," he said. "To whom am I speaking?"

"Don't you recognise yourself?" the other Discord asked.

"Yup, so I know when I'm not talking to myself," Discord replied. "Especially since I have spent copious amounts of time talking to myself."

The other Discord - more normally known by his true name (or title), Q - sighed, snapping his own claw. A moment later, a human man in a black suit, black shirt and red tie with an arrowhead pin stood in front of Discord.

"Thought it was you," Discord said. "Or a you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, probably Q-1,097,214 or something."

"215, actually," the man said with a slight smirk.

"Eh, you all look alike." Discord shrugged and snapped his claw, a dunce cap appearing on his head. "You should really find a better way to differentiate yourselves."

"Most of us don't go messing in each other's playgrounds," Q replied snarkily. "Which begs the question of why you, a mere child of Faust, would want to go hopping around - especially if it brings you 'accidentally' here."

"Some playground." Discord muttered, sighing as he sat up.

"It's been less fun recently," Q said heavily.

"I'm sure," Discord said. "So," he asked, taking a deep breath and forcing a slight smile, still feeling shaken from what he had just experienced, "is the Continuum aware of your involvement? Cause I'm pretty sure it's against the rules."

"They won't interfere where it is concerned," Q replied.

"So… they don't know." Discord rolled his shoulders, trying to get some of the ache out of his back. He snapped his fingers a few times, summoning various odds and ends to make sure his chaos magic still functioned properly - he had just taken the mother of all hits (again) after all.

"They know I'm here. They just don't know I just saved you, which is good for both of us," Q clarified, ignoring Discord's exercises. "They have a very strict policy with the children of Him, and that includes getting involved with any fights involving their channels."

"Children? Him?" Discord blink as he look back to himself, sort of.

"You mean... you don't know?" Q asked, raising an eyebrow. "You went up against her, and you don't know what she is?"

"I know she is insane, more so than me, and was apparently 'all seeing', so excuse me if I didn't have the bio sheet with me when I accidently came here," Discord said. He snapped his claw and held an ice pack to his head, frowning as the ice melted immediately.

"You didn't answer my question," Q said. "Why are you here?"

Discord sighed. "Let's just say I found a little lamb who got lost. Human fella, magic burnout, turns into a knight in shining armour when you get him angry."

Q raised an eyebrow. "Him? Could have sworn I sent him to an Equestria free of all this nonsense."

"Wait, you sent him?!" Discord asked. "Why in the name of all that's chaotic, pink, fluffy and chocolatey would you do that?"

"Long story," Q said, sighing. "Thought he'd find help. I take it the world he ended up in wasn't so cheerful."

"Basically landed in the different place with the same problem." Discord waved his claw and another dunce cap fell onto Q's head. "Good job. You get a gold star for effort."

Q scowled, and the dunce cap was suddenly incinerated. Discord raised an eyebrow.

"Overkill?" he asked.

The man ignored him. He snapped his fingers, a small tea-cup with the same arrowhead symbol emblazoned on it appearing in his hands. He drank the cup, sighed, then drank the liquid from nothing and scowled at Discord.

"So," he said, ignoring Discord's look of bemusement, "you came looking for his origin point and ended up in front of the thing."

"Yeah…" Discord said, slightly sheepishly. "I guess I went the wrong way."

"Either that," Q said, raising an eyebrow, "or you followed the residue around him - that spell was the work of some human magician, trying to send him to her so he could take his shot. Following that would just take you to the spell's original destination."

"Hm, I suppose you are right," Discord said thoughtfully. "I may have mixed it up, but I just finished a fight with another crazy Celestia so I am not in 'top form'."

"Even if you were in top form, I doubt it would change the outcome of that fight overmuch," Q chuckled mirthlessly. "I am more impressed that you're still alive. You must be made of sterner stuff than some of the Discords of Faust that happen to be hopping about the multiverse."

"Let's just say this isn't the first time I faced the ever encompassing threat of darkness. Heck, I was born during conflict and that one almost destroyed the planet I was residing in. I have some practice against 'all powerful' beings." Discord muttered, taking note of the confused look on Q's face. "Just try having your brain being torn open and put back together; you tend to focus on trying to avoid that happening again. She was really going at it too. She may have beaten me magically, but my mind has gone through a lot more than she knows. I couldn't keep it up forever though, and I was getting desperate to try and live longer. I was thinking of destroying my brain before she even got that close to it. Huh, wonders of facing a Chaos God."

Q's smile faded. "She is the channel for something far worse than a Chaos God, I promise you that. Still, that conflict gave you some incentive to protect your mind at least. Most couldn't even be in her presence without going insane when she unleashes..." He sighed, trailing off. "Still, if you're going to be involved in this business... tell me - how much do you know about the beginning?"

"Of what?" Discord asked.

"Everything," Q said simply.

Discord raised an eyebrow. "As in the beginning, beginning?"

Q nodded. "That's the one."

Discord frowned. "Uh... in the beginning there was Nothing, and then God said, 'let there be a 30watt light bulb', and it was so?"

Q laughed. "Actually, that's not far wrong." His smile faded. "This… might take a while."

Discord snapped his claw and his ears grew several sizes. "I'm all ears, pal."

Q raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Alright then."

***

Canterlot Palace, November 16th, Year 6 Anno Harmonia (2023 human calendar) - 'Tyrant' Equus.

Queen Celestia was frustrated, and she didn't like being frustrated. She paced the throne room of Canterlot, thinking over recent events. Up until a point, everything had been going well - her clone had arrived, she had engaged the humans, and then...

Her clone had been terminated by the humans, and while she had been expecting them to possibly have developed some method of terminating her, what she hadn't been expecting was the new human - this 'Avatar of Albion', whoever he was. He was powerful with magic - not powerful enough to kill her outright, but powerful enough that she couldn't kill him outright either.

She had attempted to have one of her top agents eliminate him via a remote assault on his mind, but - even more vexingly - the agent had failed her, being repelled from the Avatar's mind by his unknown power. Celestia had order the agent's summary execution for this failure: she couldn't have this human ruining her carefully laid plans, and she could not allow failure to become tolerable, even for her best.

She could feel herself being more frustrated as she paced her throne room.

'Where did he come from? How did he gain access to that power? How dare he strike me? How dare he have the temerity to strike me. I will TEAR HIM APART FROM THE INSIDE OUT -'

She paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

She was overreacting. This was not even a setback. It was a minor detail. One human could not do anything against her power. Her attack on Boston would go exactly as planned, and if he was there and dared to stand in her way, she would crush him like the insect he was.

Everything would be perfect.

Nonetheless… there would need to be something done about this "Avatar of Albion". He was an unknown element, and unknown elements needed to be dealt with before they could be… troublesome.

"My Queen?" a voice asked.

Speaking of Elements…

Celestia turned and found Twilight Sparkle waiting for her, the mare bowing as she turned.

"My dear Twilight," the Queen said. "Good of you to come. I need you to do something for me…"

"Yes?" Twilight asked, head inclined. So respectful! So orderly - it was one of the great benefits of what she'd done. This new Twilight was so much more obedient.

"We need to reopen our various projects," the Queen said. "I do not care if they were judged to be inefficient. There are more worlds out there, more that need to be brought to order…"

"It'll be a pleasure to show them the joys of becoming ponies," Twilight said.

"There is also a new template for the potion that I need you to research," the Queen said. "The humans have used unfamiliar magic in Boston to repel us. Our newfoals managed to capture data of it, so I need you to find the best possible counter to it."

"I'll do my best," Twilight said with a bow.

"I know you will, Twilight," the Queen said with a grin. "I know you will."

***

The MindScape.

When David Elliot opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself alive, so much so that it took him a few moments to be surprised by anything else. He sat up, looking at himself, looking at his hands, and finding himself feeling altogether… ok. It was only after a moment of being surprised at this that he noticed he was sat in a cave, and that… was not surprising, oddly enough.

I've dealt with weirder shit over the last few days, he thought to himself.

Still, this cave was odd, and it took him a moment to realise why. The entire place looked as though it were hewn from crystal or... or lodestone. His eyes widened in surprise. Lodestone was rare - it only appeared when there was a massive concentration of magic, almost like...

"W-what?" he murmured, realising where he must be. "H-hello?"

"Now, don't try speaking all that much," a voice called out from the darkness. "You've had a nasty knock to the head, and then you had one of the better agents of the Tyrant trying to root around in your skull to see if she could find what made you tick and break it. You're lucky she failed."

From out of the darkness stepped a figure in long, dark robes that looked like they had seen better days. He was shaven headed and had a short, greying beard, and he had a rather odd smile on his face.

Elliot groaned softly. "W-what happened?"

"You fought against the Tyrant and won," the figure chuckled lightly. "Considering what she is, you're quite lucky. Quite lucky."

"What she is?" Elliot repeated.

"Oh, just a poor, manipulated creature overshadowed and consumed by an entity that controls more power that any entity of its sort has any right to have," the figure shrugged, still smiling. "It has clung to life for… well, a long time."

"What… what is it?" Elliot asked.

"You've met part of it, or part of its power at least," the figure said with a grim smile. "When you entered the mind of the 'Newfoal'."

Elliot blinked. "The… that centaur thing. What was it?"

"The entity I spoke of," the figure said cryptically.

Elliot stood up, pulling himself to his feet and staring this figure in the eye.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You already know the answer to that question," the figure replied with a smile. "Though I am not the being you are seeking. More his cousin, or his counterpart."

"... Merlin," Elliot breathed, eyes widening. "You're Merlin."

"A Merlin," the man said, looking slightly tired as he smiled. "A Merlin who remembers many things you do not - I have been watching this world for a long time, hoping they might discover something they did not."

"What do you mean?" Elliot asked, frowning slightly. "What didn't they discover?"

"That they had the capacity to fight back more than they thought they did," Merlin replied. "But where your world retained the old knowledge in secret orders and con men like John Constantine… this world forgot what it could do. It took a Zebra, a stranger from another world, to bring Earth's magic to bear, and now this world is tired and much of her old strength was destroyed or taken."

"Earth's magic…" Elliot said, frowning. "You mean the Avatar. This world never summoned an Avatar."

"Correct," Merlin said, nodding. "This world didn't know it could. Had it known, much might have been changed."

Elliot frowned. "If you're Merlin, then…"

"I cannot send you home," Merlin cut him off, waving a hand as if to emphasise his point, "nor to Solamina. Not that I would want to. Alone, you could never fight the Tyrant of your world. You, aided by the creature Discord and the Night Princess - and that Bauer fellow, and obviously Viktor Kraber, who I doubt think any of the old powers quite understand…"

"Get to the point," Elliot said.

The man nodded. "Even with their help, you were only just able to bring your strength against a lesser clone of this world's Tyrant Sun, and there are darker, older powers behind the mask of Astra Solamina Maxima, even I know this."

"But that doesn't mean you can't help at all, does it?" Elliot asked, feeling a tad desperate.

"Of course not," Merlin said brightly. "In many ways, you being here is… fortuitous. Though against their Tyrant, they have located… well, 'help', shall we say, with the involvement of your war as well, this world may require the magic it has forgotten to be brought out, and your world will benefit from the aid of heroes such as these."

"Wait, the involvement of my war?" Elliot repeated. "You mean Solamina?"

"Yes - she and this world's Celestia have… corresponded," Merlin said softly. "This presents a new challenge - much may change in the war that is to follow, and I fear none shall escape unscathed."

"What…" Elliot began, and then he swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help them remember," Merlin said simply. "Find their Avatar and train them to control their power, in the way you never were."

"...how the hell do I find an Avatar?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The sword you bear will know," Merlin assured him. "It is imperative that you find the Avatar though - the fate of five worlds may depend upon it."

"Five?!"

"Yours, this world, their Equestrias, and the one that the other Luna and Discord are from," Merlin explained. "Maybe more even than that - threads of destiny tie these worlds together."

"Right. No pressure. But even if I do, how can I teach someone to control a power I never learned to control?!" Elliot asked, now worried.

"You will gain that knowledge sooner than you think," Merlin said. "But first you must wake up."

"Wake… up?" Elliot said, frowning. "I'm... still asleep?"

"Indeed," Merlin said. "A quite fitful sleep, if I may say it. But now it is time for you to awaken."

"How?" Elliot asked.

Merlin sighed. "This is a cheat, I fear - you should, by rights, have gained what I am about to give you another way, and had you done so you would have come from the experience stronger and surer. As it is… this will feel…"

He trailed off.

"Feel what?" Elliot asked, frowning - he definitely didn't like the direction this was going.

"Strange," Merlin replied simply. And suddenly there was a flash of light.

***

Canterlot Palace, February 17th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - 'Solaminan' Equestria.

Commander Twilight Sparkle came to attention before the throne of her Empress. Solamina looked none the worse for wear from her battle with the creature Discord a few days ago, and in fact had looked somewhat invigorated by the entire experience. Commander Sparkle didn't quite understand it, but she had no desire to question her Empress. Instead, she thanked whatever power had created them that her beloved mentor had survived the encounter: she well remembered her own battle against Discord, and while he had been aiming to cause childish mayhem over destruction, he had still been a powerful, terrifying foe.

"You sent for me, your Eminence?" she asked, bowing low.

"I did, Commander," Solamina replied with a slight, soft smile. "Our preparations are already well underway, I trust?"

Sparkle nodded. "My last report detailed some of our developments, my lady."

Solamina made an airy gesture. "I was interrupted from reading it by the arrival of the Apostate's Discord. I would prefer you tell me in person, in any case."

"I understand," Sparkle said, bowing her head. "In short, your Eminence, we are proceeding on schedule."

"Indeed?" Solamina said, raising an eyebrow. "The weapons of the faithful?"

"Sol Invictus' foundries are working hard to supply the requisite Idols and Beacons, and he is certain that your quotas shall be met," Sparkle said. She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. "He is eager to please. Some… some might say too eager."

"He is a faithful and diligent pony," Solamina commented approvingly. "Something we should all do well to emulate in the trying days to come."

"As you say, milady," Sparkle said neutrally. Was there a slight shiver in that? If so, it didn't matter. Sparkle was a loyal mare. "In the meantime, I've spoken with Cadence about the other orders as well."

"Ah yes, the Crystal Empire's weaponry," Solamina grinned. "What news?"

Sparkle smiled slightly as she spoke, clearly proud of herself. "Our shipments from the Crystal Empire are proceeding on schedule: the next consignments of Crystal amplifiers and turrets are well underway. The components for golems, behemoths and leviathans are also being shipped in with them and should be ready for assemblage by the end of the week. I expect we shall have full complements shortly."

"And the fleet?" Solamina asked.

Sparkle frowned slightly, as though recalling a mental list. "I have informed Mr Haughty Frame of his new production orders… while he begs to inform your Eminence that he is not a miracle worker, the additional twenty thousand workers we dispatched have convinced him of your resolve in this matter."

"I am pleased with this progress, most pleased," Solamina said with a smile. "You have done well in this, my faithful student."

"As ever, I remain your loyal servant," Sparkle said reverentially, bowing her head. "I can only hope it is enough."

Solamina smiled. "Tell me honestly, loyal Twilight. Are you afraid?"

Sparkle blanched. "I… I…"

"Do not fear the truth, Twilight," Solamina said. "I will not punish fear without cause."

Sparkle paused, still uncertain, but looking in the soft, warm eyes of her Empress made her feel better.

"I have… doubts," she said softly, carefully. "Not that the Empire will prevail, you understand, more…"

"You are afraid that your resolve will not see you survive?" Solamina finished.

Sparkle hung her head. "There were so many conflicts I thought could be overcome with my friends at my side. Now they're gone… and the Apostate's world may have mockeries of them, as the Apostate is a mockery of you!"

"Ah," Solamina said slowly, nodding. "You miss them."

"More than anything," Sparkle admitted. "With Pinkie gone… and Shining Armour, too… I feel like I have no one left to turn to, except yourself of course."

Solamina paused thoughtfully. "Tell me, loyal Twilight. The special projects - what progress have we made with them?"

Sparkle looked up, a slight frown on her face as she considered the question. It was a jump from what they had been discussing, but if her Empress needed the information then she would provide.

"The EG program is proceeding as fast as we can divine," she said finally. "Even with the requisitioning of all suitable… 'candidates'... we expect we shall have no more than a few thousand once vetting and spell-matrices work is complete." She sighed, clearly dissatisfied with what she was saying. "Nonetheless, we expect they shall be a highly effective fighting force when fully… Conditioned."

"And EG-Alpha?" Solamina asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If I may quote my report in this matter, milady… 'against powerful enemies, we estimate use of EG Alpha to be a one-off before damage makes continued use impossible'," Sparkle explained. "Though I may add that she will no doubt be an exceptionally powerful one off."

"No doubt," Solamina said. She descended from her throne, frowning slightly. "The bodies of Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash - do we have them?"

Sparkle frowned. "We… do, milady, but…"

"But nothing," Solamina said. "You will have Dash exhumed and brought to the labs at the palace."

"My lady," Sparkle said softly, "they… my friends…"

Solamina's eyes hardened for a moment, then softened.

"Do not fear, faithful one," she said quietly. "I do not intend for them to serve as the other volunteers do - I have… special plans, ones you will appreciate, plans that will also make Luna more useful yet."

Sparkle bowed. "I trust your judgement in this, as in all things."

"As you should," Solamina smiled. "Finally, tell me this - project False-God… how does it fare?"

Sparkle looked around, as though expecting the walls to have ears. "We are still developing the revised potion, milady. I should warn you, though, even by the time we get it to a level that works on ponies reliably, when we test it on humans, they…"

"Yes?" Solamina asked.

"Melt," Sparkle admitted sheepishly. "They melt, your eminence. Into…" She looked down, cringing a little. "A ‘slurry of biomass, collapsed and mismatched organs, and alicornal tissue that I really hope is not still conscious’, to quote the report."

"Is it conscious?" Solamina asked with a raised eyebrow.

Twilight winced. "We don't think so. Sometimes we can find brain activity and functioning organs, but they're very much the exception. I… fear I don't have the potion skill you and the late Princess Luna had when creating the original."

"What goes wrong, precisely?" Solamina asked.

"We're not certain, though Gentle Flower has ideas," Sparkle replied. "The working theory is overtaxing of the transformational qualities. Creating a pony from one of the apes is enough, but taking a human and creating alicornal tissue in the quantities found in even a minor alicorn is barely within reach of is capabilities."

"A minor issue, should the potion still work on ponies," Solamina said softly. "Does it work on Converted?"

"It... should, eventually," Sparkle reported with a sheepish smile. "Though… we're looking into redundacy factors to enhance stability of the transformation."

Solamina sighed. "I will look over the potion formulae you have developed. There is an answer, Twilight."

"I apologise for my failure, your eminence," Sparkle said softly.

"It is no trouble," Solamina sighed. "I remember the original potion was… troublesome…"

...monstermurdererhowdareyoucallyourself…

"But these things are not easy," Solamina continued, a little too quickly, shaking her head slightly. Sparkle didn't seem to notice.

"In any case, I am still confident the project will be a success," the purple Unicorn said. "We have yet to even reach the prototype stage but we do have several willing volunteers, as well as several other appropriately selected test subjects who required a bit more... coercion, shall we say. As such, I'm suggesting that we use the revised potion as a strategic resource, instead of using it in a manner similar to our basic potion."

"I heartily agree, Twilight," Solamina said with a smile. "The project was only ever intended to provide shock troops - not a new population. I have seen the terrors of forced ascension before… it is unwise to press too hard, too fast. And we came to liberate humanity from themselves, not to reduce them to puddles on the ground."

"A shock troop force is more than attainable, milady," Sparkle said. "I expect numbers in excess of ten thousand can be achieved within the next six months, and training -"

"And how soon can you have active units prepared?" Solamina asked with narrowed eyes.

"Fighting units?" Sparkle repeated. "So soon?"

Solamina nodded slowly. "I want you to expedite that project's implementation, Commander. Make it your top priority. It is imperative we have that particular edge at our disposal as soon as possible."

"You expect an attack that soon, my Empress?" Sparkle asked, frowning. "We have already doubled the Guard at key strategic points across the country and colonised territories, at the risk of emptying half the forts along the Iron Wall. There is no doubt we are prepared already."

"I do not know when the Apostate will come, my dear student," Solamina replied slowly. "And I am aware of our preparation. But my battle with the other Discord was… interesting, and enlightening. It served as a reminder of something I had long forgotten."

"A reminder of what, your Eminence?" Sparkle repeated with a soft frown of confusion.

"My mother had a saying, Twilight," Solamina said, her eyes misting over as she thought back to the old days. "'In war, she who controls the conflict controls its outcome.'"

Sparkle nodded slightly. "One of the tenets of Tempest the Half-Breed? She was your mother?"

"It is irrelevant," Solamina said. "But my mother's words remain wise. It was... unwise of me to consider waiting for the Apostate to come to me to be an appropriate tactic - surrendering the initiative to her is not the way." She smiled softly. "Instead… I will take the initiative in this conflict."

Sparkle's eyes widened as she considered what her Empress was telling her. "My Empress, is that wise? We do not know what we may face, a full scale assault -"

"Fear not - I do not intend to commit all our forces yet, faithful student," Solamina said, cutting a Sparkle off with a smile. "But a token force… an expeditionary fleet to test the waters and learn what our enemies can do… well, that should be well within our capabilities."

Sparkle bowed. "I shall begin drawing up a suitable list of units, my lady."

"Choose units that are competent but expendable in the grand scheme," Solamina instructed. "And make certain that a unit of False-Gods is prepared for the expeditionary force: we shall use it as a testing platform for their full capabilities."

"It will be done, my lady," Sparkle said with a bow.

***

Scottish Archives, February 17th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

The lab had already been prepared for the spell. Desks were set to the side to give the figure in the centre more room all the space he needed and supplies for placed on a table near the door as Hell Blazer walked in.

The figure in the middle was on one knee, checking his guns and blade. Watching him was watching a man in a trance, oblivious of the outside world.

If he had said no to the order what would have happened? They probably would have done it anyway just to spite him.

Anderson moved in front of them. "This is Sir Jason sans le Argonauts-"

"Does he know what's going on?" Hell Blazer sneered.

Sir Jason stopped and rose to his feet, sheathing his weapons and saluting Anderson.

"He does," said Anderson bluntly. "I consulted Sir Eric about this choice and he gave me Sir Jason. He's supposedly one of the best Knights of Albion there is. More than worthy of being the next Avatar."

"Thank you," Sir Jason said humbly, bowing slightly. "I can only aspire to be the best I can be."

"He can be the next fucking Jesus," Hell Blazer commented, "he still still won't be Elliot and it might not actually work." He turned to Sir Jason. "No offence, mate."

Sir Jason was unfazed. Not a hair on his head was out of place (then again, he was bald save for his eyebrows).

"We have to try." Anderson growled.

Lyra and Giles took positions at the sides of the room. Waiting for the result of this spell. By the looks on their faces, not too keen on it either.

Hell Blazer took a deep breath. Every bone in his body was screaming at him that this wasn't going to work. There wasn't a damn thing he could do. Unless…

"Aye mate," Hell Blazer addressed Sir Jason. "Don't you think this wrong? What about Elliot?"

"Albion was a valiant soul and he will be remembered by us for as long as we draw breath," he answered sternly. "Having said that, I do not think he would want Earth without a successor. I can assure you, I could never replace him, but if I am worthy of this burden, I will do my best to uphold the values he has taught us."

"Elliot might not actually be dead. That's what Anderson can't get through his head. Or just won't, because even if he's not dead, he's not here. And I don't know if I can blame him for that," Hell Blazer said, trying to stall as best he could. "I don't know what would happen to you if I tried it while he was alive. It ranges from nowt to you becoming a damn human bonfire."

Hell Blazer wished for one response from Sir Jason, for both of their sakes.

Sir Jason smiled kindly. "I understand that there are risks in this endeavour, but that is the price we pay for keeping our world safe in these troubled times. I am not afraid. I face this fate willingly."

The Convie did not get his wish.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hell Blazer could see Anderson beaming with pride. It took restraint for the stallion not to burn off what remained of Anderson's hair.

This was happening. Hell Blazer was going to have to do the ritual again and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. All the arcane knowledge at his hooftips, being the luckiest convie on earth, being one of the best assets to Britain, and for once he was powerless.

"I think that settles that," Anderson chimed in. "I am sorry, Hell Blazer. But we must do what is right for the world."

The former John Constantine edged his way near Lyra, where a bag of chalk awaited him.

"Get ready," he whispered to her. "I don't know what could happen, but be ready for anything."

Lyra nodded tersely, bracing herself. She hardly looked happier about all this than Hell Blazer was - but then, she was one of Elliot's oldest surviving friends. She'd known him longer than even True Grit or Hell Blazer himself had - Anderson, and by extension the Council, giving him up for dead by calling for another Avatar was…

It must have been like saying goodbye - or being forced to.

With every line of chalk he lay down, Hell Blazer remembered the day he changed Elliot more clearly. The day humanity got its best soldier. The day hope was restored in their hearts. The day John Constantine could no longer use his name comfortably.

Sir Jason had gone back to kneeling before everyone else in the room. He kept his gaze focused in front of him. If it wasn't for the fact that he blinked, he could have made a decent statue.

Anderson's gaze however, was following Hell Blazer around the room, taking in every second of the ritual. Maybe this was another reason he had wanted to be there personally. To see how it was done so that he wouldn't have to call upon Hell Blazer again if Sir Jason died in combat. That's if this worked.

No matter how he pictured it, Hell Blazer could not see another figure as Albion. But an order was an order. He was going to do this regardless of what he wanted to do.

When the chalk lines were complete Hell Blazer took his place in front of Sir Jason.

"God be with you mate," he muttered.

The words to summon the Avatar flowed out of Hell Blazers mouth. He had played back that fateful day so much in his mind by that point that he could have done a one pony play of it.

Sir Jason rose to his feet once more, a divine glow surrounding him. The grip he had on his weapons in his belt tightened with every second the glow caressed his skin.

"Powers of Albion, come to me, Powers of Albion, come to me," Hell Blazer chanted.

Just as a smile crept its way onto Sir Jason's stern features, he took a gasp of breath. The divine light that covered him rippled and grew thicker and thicker. Sir Jason's expression contorted in agony. He was a disciplined warrior even now, under what was probably pain like no man had ever felt. Not a single scream echoed in the room.

Hell Blazer wished he was wrong.

Sir Jason's veins and capillaries were glowing underneath the skin, and they were so bright it was as if they would burn through him. They flashed blue, red, all the colors of the rainbow, and his eyes darted crazily.

Hell Blazer stopped chanting but the light continued to grow. He sometimes hated being their magic expert, right, now more than ever.

If only there'd been somepony else to say this was a bad idea.

If only there'd been someone else to get Elliot out before this senseless loss.

If only…

If only he didn't have to see this.

The veins and capillaries kept glowing, the color growing bright, a terrible sickly bright.

Anderson expression dropped. The sight of the now diseased glow caused him to freeze in place.

Sir Jason gave a jittery final salute before his entire body burst into flames. For a moment, they could see him, something like a sculpture made from fire, and then it collapsed onto the floor. The room crackled and burned, and Lyra recoiled.

Lyra, Giles and Hell Blazer rushed to try and help the Knight but the flames vanished before they had gotten two feet in front of him.

Sir Jason was no more. In his place was a pile of ash that was mixing with the chalk.

Anderson dropped to his knees, eyes wide in shock and horror.

Hell Blazer stood beside him. The two shared a silence, predicting what the other would say. Hell Blazer didn't want to tell him. He knew what this meant but Anderson had a different thought run through his head.

"I ordered this," the General muttered.

"You thought that -"

"I ordered a man to his death for nothing!" Anderson spat out. "You can't say anything to change that." He paused. "I'm… no goddamn better than the fucking General who ordered men to stand and fight the Barrier in the fall of Australia. No. Goddamn. Better."

Lyra trotted over to the other side of Anderson.

"He can't," Lyra agreed grimly, "but neither can Sir Jason's death change the fact that he knew the risks and was happy to try for you."

They looked over to the pile of ash. Giles was knelt beside it, saying a few words on behalf of them.

Anderson glared at Lyra. "I accept full responsibility for this Miss Heartstrings. I will tell the Council just that when they ask for the report."

Without looking back, Anderson got up, wiped his eyes and walked towards the door.

"You can also tell them the good news that came with Sir Jason's sacrifice," Lyra added, her tone odd.

"Which would be?" Anderson asked, not meeting Lyra's gaze.

"That this means Elliot isn't fucking dead," Hell Blazer responded. "Sir Jason didn't die for nothing - we've proved that wherever Elliot is, he's alive."

As Anderson left the room, Hell Blazer wondered if he himself actually believed his own final words about the Knight.

This was a bittersweet victory for the stallion. On the one hand, his faith in his friend had been confirmed and out there, God only knew where, David Elliot was alive and probably fighting the good fight. On the other hand, a good man died because the faith in his friend wasn't shared with the higher ups.

"I've never felt so guilty," Hell Blazer sighed, as Lyra looked on at the tragedy that had unfolded before them, "for wishing I was right."

Lyra looked up at him, and his eyes met hers. To his surprise, she had a soft smile.

"He's alive, John," she said quietly. "He's bucking alive!"

Hell Blazer frowned slightly. "Yeah, he is."

Lyra closed her eyes, letting out a quick sigh. "That… you know, that's the best news I think I could have had all week."

"It would have been better if it hadn't come with a bloke dying," Hell Blazer said softly. He looked at the small pile of ashes. "But… I suppose it is good."

"Yeah," Lyra said, smiling. "It is. Oh, Pony God, it is."

"You alright, Lyra?" Hell Blazer asked, frowning.

"I…" Lyra began, and then she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Just… lost a lot of friends in this war. After Bon Bon, David and Grit were my only friends, and now they're both…" She paused again. "Except David isn't gone. He isn't."

Hell Blazer couldn't help but smile, sour as it felt over the ashes of a brave man. Her happiness was almost infectious.

"Now I guess there's just the question of where he is," the yellow Convie commented.

***

Nowhere.

Q frowned as he tried to figure out how to begin. This was, after all, a somewhat long story.

"What you have to understand is that the Q don't know everything about this," he began. "A lot - and I mean a lot - of it is just guesswork. He... It... doesn't talk to us, and it never has. We tried. It mostly ignores us, though that's preferable to some things we think it probably could do. It's known - if we have to use something as trite as verbal designation - as the POWER."

Discord raised an eyebrow. "All caps and all?"

"Hey, it's either that or some word that has no meaning in any language spoken by mortal, immortal, semi-mortal or chaos entity tongues," Q said. "It was the kickstarter of creation - all creation. And its first creation was light - light everlasting, eternal and blinding, brighter than any star, than any fire, than anything." He paused. "And from that light was cast the darkest, deepest shadow ever known."

"This is all metaphysical, right?" Discord asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because you are literally putting the image of some old guy with a beard messing with giant light bulbs in my head."

"Do try to take this all at least a little seriously," Q snapped. I know it's hard, if not painful, for you to even hear the words 'take this seriously', but I would very much appreciate it if you could try."

"Alright," Discord said, nodding. "I'll try. No promises though."

As he spoke, his claws, toes, and horns all crossed themselves: the universal sign for "not really". Q sighed.

"Well, I suppose that's all I can ask for," he muttered, frowning at his counterpart. "From what we can tell, the shadow was accidental."

"'Accidental'?" Discord repeated, raising an eyebrow so far that it left his face. "How is that supposed to work? I thought we were talking about an all powerful creator being?"

"All-knowing and all-seeing is a misnomer," Q replied. "There are always things, by-products not part of any plan, even for one such as Him. We suspected it was the same with the shadow - that Darkness was an accidental by-product of the Light."

"I... don't get where this is going," Discord said. "This Light and Darkness stuff - was it... alive?"

"Somehow, yes," Q replied. "They're called the first Children. The POWER, for reasons we don't quite understand, let both entities, absolute Light and absolute Darkness, live, despite the fact that they, being diametrically opposed to one another in morality and purpose, were always going to come to blows. The two children spread - becoming part of the cosmos. Every iteration of every reality has them to one extent or another, pervasive ideas behind magic, behind morality." Q sighed. "Solamina... is the channel of the Darkness. Its Avatar."

"How'd that happen?" Discord asked.

"I wish I knew," Q said. "I was a statue, in my Draconequus shape, when it came. Celestia locked me away. Then chaos began to reign beyond the walls of my prison, and I was released... and I sensed her. The Darkness and her have bonded. It preyed on her insecurities, twisted her into... well, what she is now. And she can channel its power - almost all of its power."

"So… let me get this straight. This all encompassing 'Darkness', decides to inhabit a magical Alicorn… that her one job is to move the sun by the way, you know that bright ball in the sky… for… reasons." Discord said slowly, making sure to get the point across, "And… what? Bring about the end of the cosmos or something? 'I am darkness so everything shall die'?"

"We don't know what it truly wants," Q said, frowning slightly. "Its motivations as Solamina are tied up with hers. Hers appear to be conquest and control of her Equestria, then Earth, then Equus - possibly beyond that. Its own... well, I don't know. Absolute domination over its brother maybe, who knows with that thing?"

"Great, today just keeps getting better. What is it with Evil Celestias and some sort of dark entities anyway? Is it like a special offer or something?” Discord asked with a grumble. “Still, she must have something wrong with her if an island is giving her trouble. That or she’s not as powerful as she seemed.”

Q raised an eyebrow. "That's a big assumption on your part."

"How powerful can it be if it needs to use an 'Avatar' to get things done?" Discord scowled.

"Powerful enough that the entire Q continuum would never dare stand up to even Solamina," Q replied gravely. "Let alone the Darkness itself."

"So your continuum, an entire race of reality warpers, won't dare go near this thing?" Discord said with a smirk. "Sheesh, come on - you lot are one step away from gods themselves, you could easily be away with her. But, that is not in the cards, I know, before you say anything. 'Non interference', etc, that kind of thing."

"I think you're failing to grasp the simple facts of the matter, bucko - we couldn't do away with her, nothing to do with not wanting to interfere," Q said, scowling at his alternative self. "The Q tried a long time ago to challenge the Darkness on its own turf - it... didn't go so well. There were several wars. I didn't fight in them, but I know they happened. After that...well, they're one reason we try to stay out of mortal business in big ways. Sooner or later, mortal business becomes the business of Light and Dark, and we don't like getting involved in that."

Discord frowned thoughtfully, processing that information. Away from the shadow... it suddenly didn't feel real, what he had seen, what he had felt. At the time, had you asked him (assuming Solamina didn't obliterate the hypothetical asker), he might have told you that what he had felt was more powerful than almost anything else he had met - maybe even among the most powerful. Now, though... the power he had faced felt like a dream, fading from memory, and he was already rationalising his defeat away.

"From what you've told me," he said, "this darkness can't affect anything in the world beyond using a single being to use as an Avatar. Only through them can they do anything. And so far, I've seen this Solamina, stupid name by the way, can bleed, thus she can die."

Q said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow.

"Well?" Discord asked.

"The possibility exists," Q said shortly. "Though there is a long jump between 'bleeding' and 'dying'."

Discord rolled his eyes, walking away from Q in annoyance. "If it came down to it, she isn’t all that. So let me be a dear friend and get my own enemies out of the way so I can help him do his job before he croaks from magical burnout."

"'Not all that'," Q repeated scornfully, shaking his head, looking altogether unamused. "Really."

"Really," Discord said.

Unbidden, a memory came to mind. 'There is nothing... no power, no force, no light... that can defeat darkness!'

He shook his head and ignored it. Posturing. That was all it had been. This Darkness had been posturing. There was no way it had been that powerful. Couldn't have been.

Discord said shook his head. He held up his claw, a large caliber round held between his digits, tipped with a gently glowing crystal. "I don't suppose I would be lucky enough to have this work?"

"The Darkness isn't going to be stopped by a bullet," Q pointed out, scowling.

"We’re not talking about the whole darkness though, are we?” Discord pointed out. “We’re just talking about Solamina. So - could this kill her body?"

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Q said with a frown. He studied the bullet. “Looks like it runs on thauma - it might work on magia, but the real question is whether it would work on powers a little further up the scales.”

“Meaning, ‘will it work on Gods’,” Discord guessed.

“That is the question,” Q said with a sigh.

Discord smirked. “Ok, so you need a God to kill a God, yeah? Or an Avatar of one to kill an Avatar. I wonder where we could get one of those…”

"Elliot…" Q said, frowning slightly. "The Avatar of light..."

"Precisely,” Discord said. “I mean, that is why you sent him, yeah?”

“I hoped,” Q said quietly. “That’s still a long way from certainty.”

“He didn’t do too badly against Queen Celly’s clone, and Solamina would probably go for his ‘face me in honourable single combat, ye scurvy knave!’ schtick anyway,” Discord said with a chuckle. “Add myself, along with anyone else that feels like going two for two on 'crazy Celestia's' - and trust me, there's a lot," he continued with a flourish, "and I think we can give her a good run, at least."

Q snorted. "A 'good run', huh? Would that be the same 'good run' you gave her when she finally stopped messing around?"

"I didn’t do so badly,” Discord retorted. “I made her bleed, I annoyed her, I made her pull out the big guns." Discord snapped his claw as a portal appeared. "And all those little bumps and cuts aren't going away anytime soon, and I don't mean the physical ones either. That is a mark on her that the darkness will not be able to forget. A lowly creature like me got her, and it's not going to forget anytime soon."

"You seem to assume it cares," Q said with a scowl.

"You seem to assume I care if it cares," Discord retorted snappishly, feeling surprisingly angry. "Then again, as you said it yourself, it doesn't know what it wants."

"I said I don't know what it wants," Q corrected him, folding his arms again. "I'm sure it knows..."

"Tomato, tomahto," Discord cut him off with a shrug, perhaps a little too quickly. He didn't need to hear how powerful the thing was. He'd faced it. He'd survived it. That was all that mattered. Never mind that it had him on the ropes - he'd have found a way out. Never mind that feeling as the shadow touched him…

'No light…'

No. None of that. Don't think about it. If you don't think about it, it doesn't count. I survived, therefore it isn't that bad. No takesy backsies.

"Cares or not," he continued, "I know I did it. I could probably do it again, and if I bring my real A-game - and a few other people and their A-games..."

"You're very sure of yourself for someone who didn't know what he was facing five minutes ago," Q pointed out. "And someone who nearly died five minutes before that."

'No light...'

"What am I supposed to do then? Wail and whine that that...thing is so much more powerful than me? What would that accomplish?" Discord replied, half talking to himself. “Between you and me, I’d rather be a bit more… proactive.”

He chuckled half heartedly, almost as though he were trying to cheer himself up, as he took a step forward towards his portal.

"Wait!" Q said, holding up a hand. "Hold on there, just a moment."

Discord turned, an eyebrow raised.

"Strikes me that you and I have similar problems," Q said. "Humans vs evil Celestias. That about right?"

"Not so much as evil Celestia," Discord said thoughtfully, "just completely brainwashed by an overlord of darkness..." He trailed off, then grinned. "Oh hey, I guess we do have the same problem."

"Somehow, I doubt it's quite that simple," Q said with a mirthless smile. "In any case - the humans in your world, or at least the one you found yourself helping. Fairly desperate lot?"

"I am not so sure, desperate but not as bad as what I've heard about Elliot's world," Discord replied. "Still, desperate enough."

"Might I suggest, then," Q said, grinning slightly, "that we might expedite some sort of... exchange?"

***

PHL headquarters, New York, deep under the subway

Cheerilee was back in her office, trying to work on the inevitable emails across secure PHL channels to any remaining governments in the world. Which was to say, she was trying to start. The magenta earth pony was well and truly confused by it all.

'Don't worry, Marcus is alive. He's just in Equestria -'

No. No no no. Cheerilee focused her TK on the keyboard below, pressing down on the delete key. Well done there, Cher.

'I know some of you are wondering what the silver-armoured magic knight that we summoned was. Honestly, I'm still in the dark, but -'

No.

Her head fell on the keyboard.

"Confused?" asked Shepard.

"Very," Cheerilee said. "I mean, what am I supposed to say when this all comes crashing down on my head?"

"Everything that happened?" Shepard suggested.

"Well. True," Cheerilee said. "But I've been trying that, and nothing seems to work. It's all so… far fetched." She paused. "Well - more far fetched than usual."

"Yeah," Shepard said, grinning slightly. "Guy with giant sword, the Tyrant sending a clone, Colonel Renee being in some parallel world…"

Cheerilee frowned, something tingling in the back of her skull, though she wasn't entirely certain what. It was like a nagging thought…

It was difficult to focus on this thought when considering the news on the TV up above, and the mail she'd been getting from Blount Island. Apparently the HLF had resorted to attacking it, firing on Marines. There were reinforcements on their way, but it didn't look good for them…

This is bad." Cheerilee whispered to herself.

"What is?" A voice asked from behind her, startling Cheerilee by how close it was to her, causing the mare to react and buck with all her worth. "Argh!?!"

There was a crash and a thud, and Cheerilee turned around to see a familiar tail laying limply outside a hole she created. Several humans and ponies standing outside, looking down at the dazed draconequus. Discord weakly got up, smiling as several of his teeth drop from his mouth as he spoke. "Anyone got the number to that chariot..."

***

"I'm so sorry!" Cheerilee said again, gently putting an ice pack on Discord's jaw, who only grimaced at the pressure.

"No, I deserved that. Just surprised Marcus hasn't done it yet... wonder what that'd feel li - actually, maybe I don't want to find out," Discord mumbled as he looked down to the mare. "Marcus must love your legs, because they blew my mind... along with most of my skull with it."

Cheerilee blushed a bit at that. "He said he likes my flank, says he's a butt man," she muttered, before her eyes widened in shock at what she said, covering her mouth with one hoof. Discord only laughed, smiling at her as he rubbed her head.

"Ha! A good reason as any."

"I didn't know you were back, anyway - I thought you'd gone… wherever you went."

"Just some genealogy research on Marcus, and visiting family. Sort of - long story, bit annoying, though on the plus side, I should be getting used to getting smacked up," Discord said. "Explain in a bit. So tell me, what's the bad news?"

Cheerilee looked at her computer screen, then the TV. It was playing up the clone of Celestia's defeat and the Barrier's delay for all it was worth, and then some. Not hard to see why - humanity so deserved some good news. There were stories of survivors all over the eastern seaboard. A steam locomotive, pulling a train of refugees from all over New Hampshire and guarded by Kraber before he'd gotten to Boston had come to a stop in upstate New York, the Montreal catastrophe was averted, and everything was, for a moment, safe.

Safe as anything could be in a world like this. Years of war hadn't left much optimism in Cheerilee, and she would have been surprised if bad news didn't return to TV with a vengeance later.

"We're all gonna die soon, for one," she said.

"Why don't you enjoy this moment?" Discord asked. "It's still a big victory, Marcus is alive…"

"I know that, and I'd like to," Cheerilee explained, "But… there's so much more to do." She sighed. "Especially with that letter Celestia left. The one that says in two weeks-"

When the Elements had been found cornered, they'd left an infuriatingly smug letter behind them.

Dear Humanity,

Your attempts to delay me have been mildly amusing. I have enjoyed myself as I watched your misguided, deluded attempts to overthrow me, your stubborn insistence to destroy yourselves, but I find myself growing tired of your delusions of confidence and competence. As a result, I am ending this game, and will personally arrive to greet you as you line up to join in my glorious empire, becoming perfect ponies like all of my subjects. In celebration, I will personally wipe this city from existence. I expect that you will make the right decision and embrace perfection under my grace. After all, you barely survived a mere Avatar of my power. To face me and my Elements at once, in all of our glory, that would be a level of suicidal stupidity that I'm sure we can all agree is something best eradicated when you all become newfoals.

I await to meet my new subjects,

Queen Celestia

"Don't think about it," Discord said.

"How can I not?" Cheerilee asked. "With Marcus coming back, with Elliot here and whatever consequences that's gonna have, there's so much to do in two w-"

Cheerilee stopped. Saying that she stopped talking, or stopped thinking would be understating it. It was as if time had stopped around her. She didn't seem to move or breathe. The only thing you could moving on her was her eyes.

"That's it…" she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Hold on. Marcus was in Equestria for a week, right?"

"Yes…" Discord said. Luna must have explained that.

"While he's been gone here just fourteen hours…" Cheerilee tapped on hoof against the ground. She rushed over to her desk and picked up the phone, the phone just adhering to her hoof. "Hello? Is this Lieutenant Rossiter?"

There was a buzz of barely-audible noise.

"Uh-huh. Listen. Don't take down the portal station at Logan airport."

Discord looked at her with interest.

"It's half-finished. We should be fine… Okay, load it onto a truck. Make sure it gets here. We'll just need to recalibrate it a little…" Cheerilee raised an eyebrow. "What? Okay, maybe. It might have something to do with that knight…"

She paused again.

"I'll make sure to call Gestalt to help, if Ae's not too busy in Montreal. Ae probably knows a lot of helpful stuff,." Another pause. "Well, Gestalt's non-binary. Ae said that having a gender was too much work."

"What are you…" Discord started, only for Cheerilee to put one hoof to her mouth.

"I know, Lieutenant," she sighed. "Gonna be a long day. Maybe longer than we know…" The edges of her mouth curled into a smile. "Alright. Thanks. Be seeing you."

"What kind of devious plan do you have?" Discord asked.

"It would seem," Cheerilee said, rubbing both hooves together, "That since we don't have enough time, we might as well just borrow from someone else. Fortunately, we have a few experts on precisely that."

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Consciousness didn't come easy to Elliot. It came slowly, sleep grudgingly reducing its hold on him until he found himself lying in a bed, a big plasma TV hanging above.

He felt like shit. His head was groggy as all hell, and he hurt all over.

'I feel like shit' he thought, trying to sit up…. and wincing as something cracked, as his limbs ached like each and every one of them had been trampled by Convies that had somehow gotten too close to him - clearly, his body had not agreed with fighting the clone all that much. 'Ow ow ow ow ow. Probably for the best not to move.'

He looked around the improvised hospital room. It looked to have been a hotel room at some point, but it had been overtaken by medical equipment. It didn't escape his knowledge that most of it was near-priceless back home.

'Shit,' he thought. 'I don't even think we'd mind that they've got bigger guns than us.' He thought back to Kraber's huge light machinegun, vaguely reminiscent of something from some video game a while back. 'Get us something from the old world, and we'd be happy. We're barely a step above getting reduced to steam power...'

Speaking of Kraber, he was lying in a nearby hospital bed, a small stuffed horse under the covers next to him, along with a stuffed dog.

"Mrm?" Kraber asked, yawning. "You're awake."

"A stuffed horse," Elliot said. "Why do you have -?"

"It was his son's," Aegis explained.

"Ah," Elliot said, nodding in comprehension.

"I lent the other one to a filly from a train," Kraber said. "She needed Ambassador Nikai the Second more than me."

Elliot abruptly stopped comprehending it. "Huh?"

"He was named after a wolf puppy from back in 2014," Kraber explained.

There was a long pause as the two of them lay in their respective beds.

"How long was I out?" Elliot asked after a moment.

"Few hours," Kraber replied. "Your Doctor - the John Hurt one - was here a few minutes back, but he left."

"Damn," Elliot said. "Would've been good to talk to him." He sighed. "So… another world?"

Aegis nodded.

"Well, you might as well tell me about it," Elliot said. "I'm not planning on doin' anything else for a while… actually, I think I'm planning on a long rest. And then…"

He felt something twinge, a flash of memory, like something he'd forgotten for the moment. He shook his head.

"... and then, stuff," he finished.

"What do you want to know?" Aegis asked.

"Pfft, I dunno," Elliot said with a chuckle. "Something… fun."

"Fun?" Aegis repeated.

"Ok, fun is not a good idea - how about 'informative'?" Elliot asked.

"I can think of one thing," Kraber said. "It's a long story, though."

"Well… you didn't really give me much more than a short summary from the back of a paperback," Elliot said. "So, start from the beginning."

***

Author's Note

Things are getting exciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiting...

Awakening

Chapter Eight: Awakening.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,

Editors
The Void,
TheIdiot,
RoyalPsycho.
redskin122004,

***

"No matter how bad the dreams get... when I wake up it's always worse"
Ripley 8,Alien: Resurrection.

"I'm living in an age,
Whose name I don't know,
Though the fear keeps me moving,
Still my heart beats so slow."
Arcade Fire, My Body Is A Cage.

"Kill it with kindness. If that fails, kill it with very sharp knives."
Cecil Gershwin Palmer, Welcome To Night Vale

***

Scottish Archives, February 20th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

The first blow impacted on the gauntlet he wore, the buckler deployed and withstanding the strike with a resounding clang. He grinned, bringing his own weapon to bear and forcing his opponent on the backfoot. One strike, then another, and though his opponent was skilled, he knew he was better - and in this armour, better still.

A quick riposte, and his opponent was disarmed. There was a long moment where neither warrior spoke, and then his opponent removed her helmet, revealing the face of Sir Elise.

"Not bad, Eric," she said with a grin. "I can definitely see where that armour would come in handy."

Eric, grinning himself, sheathed his sword. The hand-and-a-half design was affectionately named the 'Flaming Bastard' by its wielders and makers alike, and Eric found himself liking the design. It was simple, effective, and there were some modifications that gave it extra killing power. Truly a worthy weapon for a knight.

"Soon, the Paladin II will be in full production - given the speed our foundries produced the Mark I's, I think we'll be pleasantly surprised," Eric replied, grinning as he flexed the gauntlet. The armour was much less bulky than Elise's Mark I. "I'm rather looking forward to having a fellowship of such knights march at my back."

"We'll follow you to the ends of the Earth if need be, sir," Elise said honestly, slamming one fist on Eric's chestplate in a show of camaraderie. "We always have before."

Eric smiled, a warm, genuinely happy thing. "I know, my friend." The smile faded slightly. "I'm afraid that before the end, chances are we'll have places to go that'll test us all."

"Then we'll rise to that test," Elise assured him.

Eric smiled again and nodded. "Yes. We will."

There was a pause.

"About Sir Jason," Elise began, but Eric held up a hand.

"He knew the risks," the man said quietly. "And he went of his own accord. I would never have denied him that, even if I knew all the variables. Besides, if he hadn't gone..." Eric looked downcast. "Any other one of us could have."

Elise knew that this was the closest he would get to admitting he hadn't known what would happen. She nodded.

"I agree," she said. "You did the right thing."

Eric nodded, gratified by this.

"But… you realise that his death means the Avatar isn't dead," Elise continued, raising an eyebrow.

At this, Eric grinned. "Aye, it does. Which means that when he returns, he shall truly have Knights worthy of him at his back."

"Wonder where he is?" Elise sighed.

"With luck, he's somewhere he can make a difference," Eric said. "The Doctor said he'd try and find Elliot. It's a good question as to where that'll lead him…"

"Knowing our luck, he's not having a good time," Elise said forlornly.

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

This would actually depend on your definition of "Good time."

"It's weird," Elliot said. "Your Equestria-"

"Ain't mine," Kraber interrupted.

Elliot stopped, then nodded slowly. "Well, most of the things I've heard about… the one Aegis is from-"

Aegis nodded, as if to say, 'yeah, that's better.'

"- sound so different from the one that my pony friends are from," Elliot said. "Totem proles, a Crystal War… still can't believe that's the first war you guys had in yonkers. True Grit said there's always a major border conflict going on in the colonies."

"One thing to be thankful to dodge - our border conflicts tended to be small," Aegis said. "And first war with Equestria, mind. Your friends' enemies must be a lot stupider to fight the mare that raises the sun. And besides, Celestia… did a lot of violent things early in her reign. There's old, old memories that scare others off."

"But at the same time it's just so similar too…" Elliot continued. "People, places, the Element bearers…"

"That is kind of weird," Aegis admitted with a frown. "Am I anywhere in there?"

"I don't think so, mate, or if you are I've never heard about you," Elliot said. "And I'm sure I'd remember a pony as big as you. How'd you..."

"Some ponies are just big," Aegis shrugged, much as he could while lying on the floor. "Like how Kraber's just really skinny and never seems to gain weight from all the booze. Maybe I'm alicorn-blooded, maybe there was a lot of magic around. It didn't seem important."

"My niece keeps wondering if he's a large pony or a small horse," Kraber said, chuckling a little, and wincing. "Fok - forgot about that rib."

"How did you not notice you hurt so much?!" Elliot asked from the hospital bed next to Kraber. It was surrounded by strange PHL machinery, and he couldn't fathom the purpose of most of them. A lot of them seemed to be taking readings of some kind. Aegis was lying on the floor, his hooves hovering an inch above a laptop keyboard as the tiny keys, made for human fingers, clicked of their own volition.

"Eh, after awhile, you learn not to ask these things," Aegis shrugged. "Damn. Lots of messages on my faceb-"

He paused, suddenly looking excited.

"It's Rivet and Amber!" he yelled. "Viktor! Johnny C just took a photo, he and the 501 are fine, they're somewhere in upstate New York!"

"Oh thank God," Kraber breathed.

"Gonna message them now," Aegis said, inching a hoof over the keyboard. Keys depressed under his hoof, which was hovering an inch above the computer.

"How…" Elliot asked, looking down. "How is he doing that with hooves?"

"Eh, it didn't seem important," Kraber said. "But it's a pain for him to hold guns like that."

"I miss the internet," Elliot sighed, looking over at Aegis' PHL laptop.

"You don't have the internet where you're from?" Kraber asked.

"We kind of need every bit of machinery," Elliot explained tiredly. "Any actual internet left in the British isles is a military communication network first and foremost, followed by priority usage. Vinyl gets to use FaceTime, but she's the only civvie I know of who does… plus, electricity is kind of a premium there. Generator marks can only do so much when you've sequestered the mark makers in one compound. The Archive has some of the best stuff, but-"

"What's the archive?" Aegis asked.

"Exactly how it sounds," Elliot explained. "Big place full of stuff we're saving. Also old. Also magic-y. We figure we don't have long to live, so we might as well save what we got..." He sighed. "But we couldn't get everything. As much as we can have, well… I don't know if anything could ever go back. And so much is going to be forgotten - entire cultures were wiped out of existence, and what we have left is gonna get so distorted..."

"Damn," Aegis said. "That sounds bleak. How's Vinyl doing there, though?"

"She drinks too much, listens to Octavia's voice on Resistance FM like it's aural heroin, and I don't even think she's told Lyra about the business with Cain," Elliot replied with a hollow smile.

"Poor Vinyl," Kraber said. "She's not fragile, but… I can really sympathize here. Just cause she's strong doesn't mean she handles this well."

"She's doing about as well as the rest of us," Elliot said with a slight shrug. "I think we passed 'despair' and hit 'fuck it' a while ago. Doubt any of us are saner than Cain anymore."

"Aw, fok no," Kraber groaned. "You have a Cain there too?"

"What happened with him?" Aegis asked.

Elliot shrugged. "She was kidnapped. Then she was found. She has a scar from it, wrecked one eye, but otherwise she's ok…. ish. Personally don't think she was ever the same, but Lyra would know better..."

"Got it," Aegis said. "Not the type to pry, anyway."

"A Cain, another me…" Kraber tried not to look downcast. "Here's hoping you've got good people left. I get called a kontgesig, and, yeah, I am, but… fok Cain."

Aegis nodded. "That sonovabitch… Ours is pretty unpleasant too." He paused. "We saw him in Montreal. He helped the PER for a bit back in 2020 - think he just got the kicks he wanted from it. Then he gave up and… 'went freelance'. Which was about as nice as it sounded. I think the last anyone heard of him was when he escaped Munro's facility."

"Fokkin' Munro… and fokkin' Cain. Why do people even have the name Cain? It always ends in things going fokkin' pear-shaped," Kraber agreed.

"You need to read the Ciaphas Cain novels," Elliot said dryly. "Best 40K tie in ever."

"Are you saying that things never went to kak with him around?" Kraber asked, raising an eyebrow. "Cause if I recall correctly, Cain was a bit of a doom magnet. I can sympathize with him there."

"He nearly had our home burnt down, got captured by HLF, was forced to murder two of our friends, got kidnapped, nearly starved, ate a man's throat, and ended up in the middle of a huge zep attack in the same week," Aegis added wryly. "And… lost a friend or two."

"They made their fokkin bed… and I died that week! It hurt," Kraber added, with mock-indignation. Seeing the look on Elliot's face, he added: "I… I got better. A friend of mine turned my brain fat into electricity, turning each neuron into a potentiometer. Then I took a nap and woke up in a morgue."

"Anyway," Aegis said, "Trust me. This man knows what it is to be a doom magnet."

"I wonder if two doom-magnets become a doom-repellant?" Elliot wondered idly.

"Well, we've tried everything, including closing our eyes and begging for the nightmare to stop, and praying to God, so it might be worth a shot," Aegis said with a grin.

Kraber looked uneasy for a second. "Look… it's just the three of us here, right?" he asked.

"Not quite," Aegis said, "But the hospital staff are busy with enough people that I think we'll be alone a while. Some of us got hit by HLF outside the city, some of us lost limbs, a lot more of us are barely hanging on." He shivered a little. "Could've been much worse. We're lucky to have you, Elliot. Probably."

"Kwaai," Kraber said. "Because something's been bothering me about you a long time, Elliot. So, you're from what's essentially post apocalyptic Britain. Which is the last holdout of humanity. Lyra's survived - wait, are there other pockets of humanity there?"

"Maybe," Elliot said, shrugging. "It happened to us, so it could have happened somewhere else. Even if there are, though, we wouldn't be able to contact them - and it can't be very much, or we'd know."

"Don't change the subject," Aegis warned him. "This is literally the best time to get this off your chest, Viktor."

"Sorry, sorry. I just… well, it's like coming out as bi. You just know everybody will judge you, you feel befok, and-"

Aegis gave him a flat stare, raising one eyebrow.

"Right. Already bosbefok, what more fokkin' harm could I do…." Kraber sighed. "And you remember me."

Elliot nodded again.

"So if I'm there, I have a question for you," Kraber said. "Tell me - wherever I'm from, am I wearing…" he gestured vaguely. "Gas mask, long coat, bren gun, huge revolver? Part of the, uh…" he stroked his beard. "Undead, I think? No wait, that was just his boss. But living in Leith? Beard's probably grayed a bit too."

"...How do you…" Elliot whispered, jaw doing its best job of making its way down his face. "How can you possibly know about that?"

"I don't know how I know," Kraber said. "I just remember, almost a year back, I had these dreams. I was in a bad place. I'd left the HLF in the middle of a battle, gone into Portland-"

"The one in Maine," Aegis supplied.

"Yeah, there's a lot of Portlands. One of which is a white German Shepherd that looks like Becquerel. And I, uh, may have killed a super newfoal, gone a little bosbefok and had a psychotic break where I remembered torturing a pony for fifteen hours. It'd take too long to explain, especially considering this was after I dropped a helicopter on that newfoal and got paralyzed, but I just remember… I was in Equestria."

"It'd take too long to explain," Aegis said.

"Mate, you'd be terrible for first contact," Elliot said. "Unless Aegis was there, maybe…"

"I don't know about that," Aegis said. "If any of us had gotten into Equestria, I kind of doubt we'd come with open forelegs."

"What about for strangling?" Kraber suggested.

"Guess so," Aegis admitted.

"I know I'd be terrible," Kraber said. "Thank God it was Marcus instead of me."

"Wait, what?" Elliot asked.

"It’s not important yet. But… I think I remember something like you. I remember Pinkie Pie being somewhere nearby. Even though I hate her, and I was… I was happy about it. I guess I didn't know what she did."

"What did she…"

"Trust me," Aegis said, before Kraber could say anything, "You don't want to know."

"I mean, I can't remember kak from in that dream. It's like trying to remember myself remembering something. But it was an invasion force, I'm sure of it. I think we were in Canterlot, judging by all the photos I saw in the war room. And I know you were there. You were spearheading it," Kraber said, with renewed certainty. "There was… a battle. A battle in the sky…"

"...You believe this?" Elliot asked Aegis.

"He doesn't lie to me," Aegis said. "Well, not anymore. But that's the past."

Elliot sensed a story behind that, but he decided not to ask.

"But… there's something that I wonder about," Kraber said, scratching his head. "I know you have pony manes in that coat. And that you beat me to Pinkie Pie. But tell me, do people in your Britain wear necklaces of pony teeth? I mean, you said you know a Vinyl and a Lyra, so it's not all that likely, but…."

"...You sure you want to mention this part?" Aegis asked. "I mean… I got shot in there."

"What are you two talking about?" Elliot asked, uneasy.

"Long story that'd just keep getting longer. And I swear to God, I wouldn't do that," Kraber said, looking over at Aegis, the saddest look Elliot had ever seen on Kraber's - a Kraber's - face. "Never again. Specially cause I know that a year and a half ago I'd do that without fokkin' blinking. But this kak haunted me for a while. Enough that I could barely sleep."

"You were outright afraid to sleep," Aegis added. "The doctors had no idea how you'd kept yourself awake."

"Lots of alcoholic coffee," Kraber explained. "And Nny gave me a copy of that report on totem-proles from the consultants in Tribeca. I was afraid of this, and I didn't mention it cause they'd think I was bosbefok..."

"More than usual?" Aegis joked, with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, unable-to-fokking-function crazy, but I guess there's not much I can do about that. Then again, they do give me a longer leash than the average hunting dog. Being a propaganda star and weapons tester is kwaai," Kraber said, smiling wistfully. "Okay. Fok it. I need to ask. You're not part of some kind of interdimensional crusade to destroy all ponykind, are you?"

"What. I... a... what?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why... I mean... why would I? I've fought alongside ponies. Hell, after Sam died -"

"Sam Lake?" Aegis asked. "He's still alive here too."

"Damn," Elliot said, eyes wide. His old friend, alive? Was this world trying to taunt him, remind him of every failure? "That's… we'll get to that later, but after he died Lyra was one of my best friends, especially after the bloody Sweetie Drops fiasco."

"The what now?" Kraber asked, frowning.

"Oh, that was -" Elliot began, but Aegis interrupted, holding up a hoof.

"Okay, new ground rules," the giant pony said. "We get to the point, right now, because there's enough we could talk about it for days."

"Agreed," Elliot said. "Tell you what, we'll have the full continuity-catch-up when we figure out how to get me home. It'll be over food that's extinct back home, like mangoes or something. I miss those." He frowned at Kraber. "But seriously - why would I do that? How would I do that?"

"Take it from someone that has experience, revenge is a hell of a drug," Kraber said. "Imagine if you somehow beat Equestria before any good ponies like Aegis or Vinyl, or Heliotrope came by. Having a pony chommie by your side at times like this is good for you. But… what if you weren't? Someone with as much power as you, angry as all hell…"

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"God no!" Kraber protested. "Besides, I've got more to feel guilty about, probably. I'm just thinking. If I had a dream of assaulting Canterlot with you around-"

"Which hasn't happened yet-"

"Shit," Aegis said, smirking slightly. "The timelines are in flux. Better go see Doc."

"Wait," Elliot said. "We weren't wearing pony teeth in that invasion you dreamed up, right?"

"It was a different timeline," Kraber said. "I don't know how I know, but I'm sure it was somewhere else. Either way, things probably end well for you."

"I have an idea," Aegis said. "Elliot, Avatar or whoever… ask him some questions about his world. See how many he gets right."

"Which reminds me," Kraber said. "Elliot and Constantine-"

"He's here too?!" Elliot asked. "Can he do magic?"

"Maybe," Kraber shrugged. "It's stage kak, far as I can tell. You'll have to ask him."

Elliot sat back on his bed, closing his eyes. His memory, at first fuzzy, was gradually getting back to normal. He was remembering something from his sleep.

"You ok?" Aegis asked.

Elliot frowned, and suddenly, without any preamble, he glowed golden for a moment. Kraber's eyes widened.

"You… ok there, Elliot?" he asked.

Elliot stood up, the glow still surrounding him. He flexed his muscles. He cracked his neck. He smiled, and jogged on the spot, his pains apparently gone.

"I remember," he said softly, still glowing. "I remember!"

"Remember what?!" Aegis asked, looking worriedly at the glow.

Elliot looked down, and smiled sheepishly. The glow subsided.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just… I met someone while I was asleep."

"Is this something to do with that mind attack you had?" Kraber asked.

"No, but -" Elliot began, before frowning. "How'd you know about that?"

"Multiple brain patterns or something," Aegis shrugged. "You'd have to ask the Doc - your Doc I mean."

"Well, no, it's not the attack I mean," Elliot said, looking at his hand. "I was given a job."

"What job?" Kraber asked.

Elliot frowned, before looking at the two. "Tell me - can you think of any noble, heroic warriors who would be worthy to bear Excalibur?"

Kraber's eyes went wide. "As in, the big fokkin' sword you smacked Celestia up with?"

"As in the big fucking sword I smacked Celestia up with," Elliot confirmed, grinning wildly at him.

"Noble, heroic warriors," Aegis said thoughtfully. "You know, we don't really get those. War's a gritty business."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Really. Colour me surprised. Not like I'm fighting one."

"I'm just saying, 'noble and heroic' are a bit… fantasy," Aegis pointed out. "Then again, I'm in a hospital room with a knight in shining armor and a man that's done everything for me and died to save something that wanted us to kill aer, so what do I know. Though there's always Stephan."

"Or maybe Yael," Kraber added.

"Yael?" Aegis repeated. "Maybe. Would Heliotrope do?"

"She's a Pegasus, yeah?" Elliot asked. "Might need to stick to human. Plus, she likes combat knives more."

"Racist," Aegis joked. "Commander Renee?"

Kraber nodded, though there was a slight thoughtful frown on his face.

"Yarrow would have disagreed with that one," he said softly.

Aegis frowned too. "Well… Yarrow isn't here. And yeah, fine, he had a point about some of the stuff he was saying, but Marcus is still our best hope… and he did what he did because he had to."

"Yarrow would probably have disagreed about that, too," Kraber said softly. "Dammit - now I've just reminded myself how we left it with those guys."

"It was bad, but… they made their choices," Aegis said softly. "Like you made yours."

"Ja. So" Kraber said, putting a smile on his face that was quite clearly fake, "if it's a noble warrior type you're wanting, I'd say Marcus, Yael or Stephan. Maybe even the other you - but then again, you're different guys, you've had different experiences, so who knows with that one. But not me. I'm unvolunteering on account of feeding PER to red wolves-

"Why would you feed PER to wolves?!" Elliot gasped.

"Critically endangered wolves! And they were hungry. Plus, I saw one of the puppies getting the hiccups. Have you seen a puppy with the hiccups? It's adorable."

Elliot raised an eyebrow, still trying to comprehend what he was hearing.

"Well, I thought it was beminlik," Kraber finished.

"It, uh, kinda would be if they weren't eating people," Aegis said.

"I think," Elliot said slowly, "that there's a small signpost somewhere behind us with 'the point' written on it. Possibly with 'David Elliot's stomach contents' right behind it." He looked at Aegis. "Is he always Captain Digression?"

"Only when he's not depressed," Aegis said. "...Actually, sometimes when he's depressed."

"And drunk," Kraber added.

"So… he is except when he isn't. Ok. So noted." Elliot frowned slightly. "So, back at 'the point'… what can you tell me about this… Commander Renee?"

"Colonel, technically," Aegis said, smirking slightly. "He hates being called Commander."

"Thought you've gotta admit, it sounds cooler," Kraber added.

"What's he like?" Elliot asked. "And this Yael, too - uh…"

"A she," Aegis clarified.

"Oh no, I know who she is," Elliot said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm just curious as to whether she's HLF sympathetic here."

Kraber guffawed. "Oh…. ah, ah man, eish. Whether she's what?"

"Yael Ze'ev, IDF, right?" Elliot asked. "She's HLF where I come from. Or at least a sympathiser. I think she came in with… what were they called, the Hounds of Hades, one of the old HLF formations before the Long Watch took most of 'em on. Them and the Reavers and the - oh Christ, the Kraken Grenadiers. God, they had some weird names…"

“Ours too,” Kraber said.

"She was with the HLF?" Aegis asked, sounding somewhere between amused and surprised.

Elliot shook his head. "She wasn't with them, she just rode with them on the ships, but she knew them well - really respected them, actually."

"Well… she's not so fond of them here," Aegis said simply. "Like… really not."

"She hates them," Kraber said. "Cause our HLF broke her sister's legs, and they're probably a lot less reasonable than yours, one or two exceptions aside."

Elliot nodded slowly. Personally, he couldn't say he thought that was the case, but if they spent all day talking histories they'd be here when the Tyrant's sun finally burnt out. Or if another Tyrant, or another army launched an attack.

"Kontgesigs haven't seen how bad it can really get…. anyway, you were asking about Marcus," Kraber said. "Well, he's… kinda like you."

"Oh?" Elliot asked.

"Well, obviously he's a little older," Kraber said. "And he's not got magic super knight stuff, though he does have runic tattoos."

"He took over the PHL after Lyra died," Aegis added. "And he's done a good job too."

Elliot nodded. Whoever this Colonel Renee was, he sounded… promising.

"Ok," he asked. "So I might have missed this, but where is he?"

"He's apparently in a version of Equestria that never went mad with converting people, and attempting to recruit them as allies," Kraber said with a straight face. "We'd go fokkin' nuts if a Celestia came, and he's not powerful enough, so that's why Discord and Luna came here."

"I bet that if their Celestia comes, she'll wear face-concealing armor," Aegis added.

"Huh. Didn't think of that. I mean, we probably wouldn't be happy to see her…" Kraber mused.

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "I… I…" He shook his head. "I'm a magic super-knight who uses Excalibur, fighting pastel ponies, and I just got done talking to Merlin in my head. Nothing is impossible. Nothing is impossible."

"That's it," Aegis said, looking up at him. "If there's one thing I learned from The Venture Bros, it's that at some point you should just learn not to ask. Hey, Viktor? Remember that friend of ours made of several crystal ponies and the agglomeration of all the memories of ponified humans? Ae says Montreal turned out fine, and ae'd like to look at Elliot sometime, and ae's restructured aer digestive tract to be able to process meat just for a laugh. She wants more of your shrimp and cheese grits. She wants bacon and onions this time. Maybe a fried egg."

"...You're just fucking with me, aren't you?" Elliot sighed.

"Well, ja!" Kraber laughed. "But we totally do know somepony like that."

Elliot closed his eyes and put his head in his hand.

"Some…. pony. Hell Blazer, you sod," he said softly. "I'm gonna bloody kick your arse."

He looked up at Kraber, and frowned slightly. He gave him a look.

"One more thing," he said. "Did I just imagine the Doctor being here?"

"No, both of them were," Aegis said.

Elliot's eyes widened. "Where is he? I need to speak to him!"

"That," the gravelly voice of the older Doctor, "can be arranged."

Elliot turned to look at the older pony as he entered, and smiled despite himself. It was good to see a familiar face.

"You want to explain what happened?" he asked.

"No," the older pony said, holding up his screwdriver. "What I want to do is scan you, be certain that you're alright."

Elliot's smile faded. "Oh. That… sounds like fun."

"Really? Because if I were in your position I would be incredibly bored," the Doctor replied, raising an eyebrow. "Shall we begin?"

***

Scottish Archives, February 22nd, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Lyra smirked as her iPad came to life and her friend Vinyl Scratch appeared, yawning. The DJ never looked anything less than dishevelled. The scar across one eye didn't help, but even without that her bleary eyes, messy mane and tired smile created the image of the shambolic.

The two of them were using FaceTime - much as technology wasn't necessarily at its best these days, morale specialists like Vinyl tended to get the best, and the Archives, of course, got everything they wanted and more.

"Lyra," Vinyl said, to her credit not reacting to seeing the implants Lyra had for the first time. "Sup?"

"Hey Vinyl," Lyra said with a slight smile. "I… needed to talk."

"Hey, sure," Vinyl said, suddenly frowning. "You ok? Not often you want to just chat these days - what's up?"

"I… I don't know," Lyra said honestly. "I… just need to talk to somepony. Get something off my chest, y'know?"

"What's on your mind?" the DJ asked.

"They asked John to summon a new Avatar," Lyra began.

"Bullshit!" Vinyl yelled.

"No, no, they really did," Lyra said, looking downwards.

"I believe you," Vinyl said. "But it's still bullshit."

"That's not why I called, Vinyl," Lyra said. "He died. The man they picked. He died horribly, burning from the inside out… and I was glad."

Vinyl pushed her dark, thick sunglasses downward, one magenta eye and one sightless, unhealthy orb looking at Lyra, visibly concerned. "I'm getting mixed messages here."

"All I could think while he was burning was… was that it meant David was alive," Lyra said softly. "That… that he… that he was somewhere, that he was breathing... and I didn't care that someone had died to show me that." She laughed slightly, despite herself. "David's alive, Vinyl, somewhere!"

Vinyl frowned at her. "You sure?"

"They can't summon a new Avatar if the old one's alive," Lyra said. "That's how John says it works. But there's nothing stopping them if he's dead. So… well. He has to be." An almost goofy smile appeared on Lyra's face, offsetting the implants. "I just… I don't know."

"Are you ok, Lyra?" Vinyl asked. "Cos somethin' seems off."

"I saw a man burn up in front of me!" Lyra said. "I don't know how to feel. A good man died, but Dave, he's alive…"

Tears seemed to well up in Lyra's eyes. Vinyl took her sunglasses off, narrowing her eyes at Lyra through the Facetime.

"Lyra, you remember a few years ago when you and I talked about Amethyst and her human bf? Apparently Garnet's gotten into that too, by the way." she asked, speaking slowly.

"Yeah…?" Lyra asked, frowning. "And your point is…?"

"You know I joked about you and David, right?" the DJ continued.

"Yeah?"

"You know it was a joke, right?"

Lyra scowled. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Vinyl sighed. "I'm just tryin' to look out for you. Ever since Bon-Bon -"

"No," Lyra snapped. "No, don't start."

"Lyra, tell me straight up, here," Vinyl asked. "Do you love him?"

Unbidden, a small paragraph of an entry in her old journal came to Lyra. I'm in love with David Elliot. I will never tell him. It's better that way. It has to be.

Lyra frowned. "I… no. No, I don't."

Vinyl snorted."Sure. And my vision's 2020."

Lyra scowled. "What do you want me to say, Vinyl?"

"Be honest with me," Vinyl said. "And you. And Elliot, while you're at it."

Lyra looked away from the screen.

"Vinyl, I'm going to tell you something, and you have to keep it secret," she said softly. "You… have to. Matter of life and death."

"Kay..." Vinyl replied, frowning.

"He's dying," Lyra said quietly. "He's got… a year. Maybe two, if the Watcher's Council get those sink-runes working. But that's it. He's got too many responsibilities, and too little time for..."

"He's WHAT?!" Vinyl yelled.

Lyra winced. "See, I knew you'd react like that."

"Why the hell doesn't somepony tell us these things?!" Vinyl said loudly. "That's…" She trailed off. "Ah, shit, sorry, that was insensitive."

"No, it's fine," Lyra said quietly. "That's precisely what I meant though - he isn't just David Elliot. He's Albion. People rely on him. They look up to him. I can't imagine what that kind of responsibility does to a man. He literally has the world resting on his shoulders..."

"And you don't wanna tell him?" Vinyl guessed.

"Why would it make a difference, Vinyl?" Lyra asked. "He's not into ponies like that. Or he's never shown any interest."

"Yeah, but he's busy," Vinyl pointed out. "Since when does that guy have five minutes to do the dirty quick with anybody, let alone doing it with someone in an actual relationship?"

"Exactly!" Lyra said. "Exactly! Since when does he have that time? When will he ever have that? And if he did, why would he go for me when he's human and I'm a pony?"

There was a long pause as the two of them digested these words.

"Lyra," Vinyl said slowly, "you've known him properly way longer than me. You've fought alongside him just about everywhere. Hell, you knew Sam. I think… I think if he were going to love anyone… if anyone's… gotten close to being in that kinda position with him… it's gotta be you."

"Yeah," Lyra said disbelievingly. "Sure."

"Lyra…" Vinyl said slowly, shaking her head. "You're not gonna tell him, are you? If he comes back, I mean."

"Hadn't planned on it," Lyra said tonelessly.

"Dammit, girl," Vinyl cursed. "What would you rather do? Let him die without him at least knowing? Or try for something resembling happiness? You'll be unhappy if you do nothing, and if it fails, at least it's off your barrel!"

Lyra looked away, and then shook her head.

"I… would rather not be the straw that breaks Atlas' back," Lyra said softly. "The world is enough, don't you think?"

Before Vinyl could reply (and she certainly looked like she wanted to), Lyra looked up at the door to her quarters as it opened and Hell Blazer stuck his head through.

"Oi, Lyra," he said. "We're needed for a briefing with the Council."

"Right," Lyra said tonelessly. "Gotta go, Vinyl."

"Yeah, go," Vinyl replied, smiling. "Just… think about what I said, huh?"

"No promises," Lyra replied, and then she ended the FaceTime.

"What was that all about?" Hell Blazer asked. Lyra scowled.

"Long story, John," she said, in a tone that implied she was just planning to find a better way to dodge the question later. "Long… really bad story."

***

Sickbay, John F. Kennedy Airport emergency medical facility, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"Alright," the older Doctor said. "Remember to take it slowly - your body is still strained from your exertions."

"I know," Elliot said with a frown, stripped down to his vest and trousers. "I don't need you reminding me what my exertions were, Doctor."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I simply thought you would appreciate the encouragement."

"Ah, he'll be fine," Kraber said with a smirk. He scrunched up a bit of paper and threw it at Elliot, who deftly spun around and caught it, before glancing at the hand that caught the paper like it had moved on its own. "Think his reflexes are pretty good."

Elliot threw the paper back at Kraber, who dodged it with a laugh. Elliot sighed, before starting to jog on the spot. He felt… surprisingly good. Using healing magic as he had normally had unpleasant side effects, but he seemed to have done reasonably well for himself in this instance.

"Tell me," the Doctor said, scanning Elliot again. "How do you feel? Energetic? Tired?"

"... meh," Elliot said after a moment, frowning slightly.

"'Meh'?" the older Doctor repeated. "That… is not exactly the most detailed response."

"I'm sure," Elliot said with a grin.

"At least you're just 'meh'," Kraber said. "I feel like fokkin' death warmed up."

Elliot looked at him, a small frown on his face.

"What?" Kraber asked.

Elliot raised a hand, aiming it at Kraber, whose eyes widened for a second. There was a soft glow from Elliot's hand, and then Kraber glowed for a moment, and suddenly Elliot raised his other hand to his nose, lowering the glowing hand. Kraber frowned, flexing his hands.

"That… feels a lot better," he said. "What the hell did you do?"

Elliot looked at his blood-covered hand, blood dripping down his nose. "I did a thing."

"Some 'thing'," Kraber said, raising an eyebrow. "Wanna explain how that works?"

"I just thought that since I could do it to me without too much hassle, maybe I could do it to you," Elliot said, shrugging. "I mean, if you're not happy…"

"Hey, I never said that," Kraber said. "Actually, I feel… good."

"Good," Elliot said. "That's something."

"Intriguing," the Doctor said. "Normally that sort of exertion would have resulted in you having a coughing fit."

As he spoke, a pony nurse entered the room. The mare glanced at Elliot as she walked in, a somewhat bemused expression then appeared on her face as she eyed him. She walked up to the beds, occasionally moving her eyes back to Elliot as she did so before taking notes on his and Kraber's clipboards, looking faintly confused. She walked out, still stealing glances at Elliot, a single eyebrow raised almost appreciatively. Elliot frowned slightly, confused by her expression.

Aegis sniggered. "Damn."

"Why was that pony looking at me like that?" Elliot asked, frowning.

"She's got the hots for you, bru," Kraber smirked.

Elliot blinked at that.

"... what?" he asked.

"She found you attractive," Aegis clarified, sniggering.

"... what?" Elliot said, confused.

"That doesn't happen where you're from?" Kraber asked.

"No," Elliot hastily replied, honestly little disturbed by the thought of a pony finding him attractive. It wasn't done where he was from, not at all.

"Huh," Aegis said, shrugging. "Weird place."

"I was literally just thinking the same thing," Elliot said with a frown. He shook his head. "Seriously, the more I think I have this place figured out, the more it decides to suddenly change the rules."

"'Never ever tell me the rules'," Kraber said, throwing a knowing glance at the Doctor, who returned the glance blandly.

Before he could say anything else, Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee entered the room, an excited expression on her face, quite at odds with the sombre expression she had worn when Elliot had first met her.

"Doctor!" she said, looking at the man. She caught sight of Elliot. "Oh, hello Major Elliot. You're awake?"

"I am," Elliot said with a grin. "You look… surprisingly cheery, Cheerilee."

"Ha ha," Cheerilee said, rolling her eyes. "Doctor, have you seen our Doctor?"

"I believe he was heading off to speak with Major Bauer," the older Doctor said with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"

"Never mind," Cheerilee said. "You'll do just as well for this - I need you to do me a favour, come with me!"

The Doctor threw Elliot a look, and the man shooed him away with a smirk. Sighing, the old stallion followed Cheerilee out.

***

John F. Kennedy Airport, New York, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Sitting alone, contemplating the last few days (or indeed, the last two or three alone), Discord found himself feeling… tired. That was a new feeling, for which he was usually grateful… but not in this instance. Tiredness and fatigue, to put it bluntly, sucked. He closed his eyes, trying to catch a moment of quiet.

"Discord!" a very familiar voice called out, shattering Discord's attempt at relaxation.

He turned, to see Princess Luna approaching him, her eyes wide as she trotted, looking less than amused - not that he could blame her. Things weren't good before. Now… now they had another - another - insane Alicorn with a super-evil backing her up to worry about. Another one - it was like there was a damn supply, and while it was an amusing image, the humour value died when one realised one was stuck dealing with the insane Alicorns oneself.

Damn, he thought to himself Just damn.

"Where in the name of Harmony have you been?!" she yelled at him.

Discord winced. "I'm sure you don't need to shout at me, LuLu."

Luna scowled. "Your help would have been useful in convincing these ponies and humans of our good intent. We need you-"

"Eh, they didn't need me hanging around," Discord said glibly, though his expression was troubled. Luna's own expression softened - though Discord was not exactly "a friend", he had become a comrade, and she was not altogether pleased at his unhappiness. "And I did something important on my recce."

"Indeed?" Luna asked. "And what might that have been?"

"I paid a visit to Mr Elliot's home," Discord said. "Or rather, I paid a visit to the Equestria that's been attacking it. And I met a certain mad tyrant."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "This 'Astra Solamina Maxima'?"

"Correctamundo," Discord smiled, before making a disgusted face. "No, hate that word. Forget I said it. But yeah, I did." He frowned at her quizzically. "What do you know about her?"

"The old Doctor, Clock Smith, spoke of her briefly," Luna explained. "He was… surprisingly succinct about the situation their world is in. He reeled off statistics, but gave next to no details about the world itself."

"Probably trying to avoid telling us too much in one go," Discord reasoned. "And something tells me that I wouldn't like to know. Find out anything about that world's history?"

"Only that I should know the name 'Sidera Somniata', but I do not," Luna said. He face took on a troubled expression. "And that Astra Solamina Maxima… killed her Luna. Or at least, their equivalent to these PHL believe that she did."

Discord raised an eyebrow. "I can honestly believe that. She seemed crazy enough."

"Were you able to defeat her?" Luna asked hopefully.

Discord's face fell. "I… no, I…"

He stopped talking, looking away from Luna for a moment, before looking back at her.

"I don't know what she is," he said honestly. "I thought when I first saw her that she was just Celly - your sister - with a few screws loose. Not exactly a pushover, but not the end of the world either. But - it's like that Elliot's magic, it isn't something I can really figure out, but she's… worse, somehow. She nearly killed me. If that world's Discord hadn't pulled me out, she would have killed me."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "She's as dangerous as Queen Celestia, then?"

"I… think so," Discord said honestly, though he didn't look happy about admitting it. "And my counterpart… well look, don't countenance what he was saying as that big a deal, but he seemed to think she was more of a threat."

Luna blinked in shock. "More… more of a threat?"

"I don't think it's that bad," Discord said hastily. "Honestly, I think once these PHL guys do their thing with the Alicorn-killers she'll not seem that bad, and she had a lot of the same hangups Elliot did - over reliance on that glaive of hers, for one thing. But she was definitely powerful."

He was leaving something out. Luna didn't feel inclined to press him though - clearly, there was something on his mind.

"So," Luna said, "what effect does this have? Do you think we should aid these other humans if we can?"

"Part of me feels like we won't have a choice," Discord replied quietly. "This… Solamina… she knew about other worlds. She even knew about the Queen bitch. I don't know what that means, but it can't be anything good."

"I do hope that Solamina doesn't ally with the Queen," Luna said, fretting a little, visibly distressed.

"There is one glimmer of hope," Discord said. "Something tells me that neither one would play well with the other. She was talking about… 'war with the apostate'."

"Hmmm. My sister loves order, and if the bag, or whatever has corrupted her into this Solamina has exaggerated it similarly to Queen Celestia, it's probably just become 'under her'." Luna relaxed slightly.

"Sunbutt does have those tendencies," Discord said. "Yeah. It's pretty unlikely that two immensely narcissistic beings-" he caught a glare from Luna. "Would work together."

"Maybe having the two at each others' throats will prove a blessing in disguise," Luna postulated.

"Or maybe we'll be the fly caught between the table and the cup of coffee," Discord countered glumly. "Positive spin isn't gonna work. We could have done without this mess. The best we can do is make the best of a bad situation. Solamina may not be as overtly, 'I'm going to level twelve blocks of a city with one spell' powerful, but she's smarter and I think she could still do that if she wanted to. Queen Celestia..." he shivered a little, remembering the memories from being stuck in Twilight's mind. "She's wily. What she lacks in practicality, she makes up for in flexibility and ability to surprise. Where Solamina's a rapier, or a glaive, Queen Celestia's a warhammer. Or a flail."

"All this from one fight?" Luna asked.

"You don't truly know someone until you fight them," Discord replied. "Or give them a humongous wedgie, but I honestly don't see that catching on as a tactic of war." He sighed. "No, somehow the joke isn't making me feel any less terrible about this."

"We must hope for the best, Discord," Luna said softly. She frowned slightly. "If you have located this Elliot's world, have you been able to make contact with his people?"

"That was the next stage of the plan," Discord said. "We'd - myself and my counterpart - go to this other Earth and see what they say to us bringing the two together."

"What do you know of them?" Luna asked.

"My counterpart knows more," Discord said softly. "Heck, he knows more than he's telling me, which I don't like."

"How do you know?" Luna asked.

"I know my own face, even if it's not exactly me wearing it," Discord replied. He sighed, rubbing a claw over his mane. "Tell you what though, this war just got upgraded to a matter of literal God. Sort of."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Really."

Discord smiled humorlessly. "Long, messy story. Probably very bloated, with lots of AUs and mythology stuff going on that'd be a nightmare to keep track of. Kinda story no one reads much of."

"Then we must be thankful to have you around to keep track of 'bloated messes' for us," Luna smirked.

"It's a huge headache though," Discord sighed, hairline cracks spreading all across his skull.

"Hold yourself together, Discord," Luna said softly, looking troubled. "For I fear we shall need you."

Discord gave a little chuckle. "I'll do my best to hold together then. No promises, though."

***

PHL headquarters, New York, deep under the subway

"So… run this by me again?" Stephan asked the two Doctors stood before him, the officer raising an eyebrow in confusion. Beside him, Trixie was sat staring at the two stallions like they'd each grown another head. Cheerilee was next to them both, an enthusiastic smile on her face.

The older Doctor Hooves exchanged glances with the younger Doctor Whooves.

"Is he always so slow?" the older pony asked, sounding exasperated.

"Oh yes," Whooves replied with a smirk. "Frustratingly so."

"And you have to deal with this man often?"

"Weeeell, a lot of military minds are worse, to be fair. Like Munro or Hex. So… bullheaded," Whooves said. "Hex… has disturbing tendencies. Though he runs that madhouse that the PHL call R&D, and he didn't raise an eyebrow when someone gave Kraber a machine gun that shoots lightning, so I suppose that's to be expected. Munro… well, let's just say the man's lucky his organisation was gutted at the start of the war-"

"I take it you mean it's him specifically-"

"I do-"

"Good-"

"-or he'd probably be a file clerk somewhere instead of heading it. If half the things I've heard are true…"

Hooves nodded. "I shudder to think - I, at least, only have to deal with Anderson. And occasionally Redmond, but he's at least reasonable when he's not being obnoxiously obstinate. With luck I'll be back before Anderson does something stupid, like trying to summon another Avatar. Not having the usual toys can be a humbling experience, but yours haven't that problem."

"Oh dear Gott in Himmel, two of him's like my worst nightmares all come to life at once," Stephan muttered, groaning. Cheerilee chuckled and Trixie raised an eyebrow.

"This is your worst nightmare?" the blue mare asked quietly.

"Fair enough. I expected more scorpions," Stephan said.

"Of course, I tend to be given a remarkable amount of leeway," Hooves continued, speaking as though he hadn't noticed the interruption. "As long as they get positive results from it, they don't question my actions."

"I wish I had that," Whooves said. "I dunno who's more restricting on madcap craziness - the military or my wife."

"I still can't believe you're married to Ditzy," Hooves commented.

"You never thought about it?"

"Not really."

"Ok," Trixie said in an undertone. "I take it back. I do see how this is a nightmare."

"Doctors!" Stephan said. "A little focus!"

Hooves and Whooves looked at him at once.

"Apologies," Hooves said. "We appear to have been carried away."

"Old habit," Whooves said.

"We always were good at talking to ourselves," Hooves commented with a shrug.

"No one smarter in the room," Whooves reasoned.

"Well, you know what they say," Stephan said. "Those who talk to themselves keep poor company." He paused. "Oh God dammit, there's another Kraber. Lord help me, we don't have enough booze..."

"I don't know, I'm actually rather enjoying this conversation," Hooves said.

"Me too," Whooves added, grinning. "Been ages since I could discuss quantum temporal mechanics on this level -"

"Doctors!" Cheerilee snapped. The mare looked tired, but still resolute. "Would you kindly focus and explain to Stephan what we've discovered?!"

"Oh that," Whooves said, shrugging. "That's simple."

"The two worlds - this Earth and the Equestria from which your unlikely allies come," Hooves continued, speaking blandly, "are running at different temporal speeds, relative to one another."

"A day there is only a few hours here," Whooves finished with a wide grin. "So Cheerilee - brilliantly, I might add -"

"Reasoned that the disparity might be turned to your advantage," Hooves continued. "If Queen Celestia attacks in two weeks, then, simply put, we have six months."

"It's a handy bit of vacation, extra time for projects, organization time, and recruitment period all rolled into one," Whooves said with a smirk.

Stephan raised an eyebrow. "Even so, it would be impossible to get enough troops together in time to -"

"Ahem," Hooves interrupted, raising a hoof. "Operative word: 'time'. Remember to whom you are speaking, Major Bauer."

"We've already been back in time," Whooves said, smiling. "And the troops are already ready."

Cheerilee grinned. "You see, Stephan? This plan will allow us to train troops, stock this other Equestria's armies, and research even more new weapons, and still be ready to take on the Queen when she arrives."

Stephan ran a hand through his hair. "I'd have preferred to be consulted before we went with this - it's a good plan, I like the plan, but…"

"Technically, this is the consultation," Whooves said.

"Speaking of which," Hooves added, "I believe we are due…"

The door to the little office opened, and another pair of Doctors entered, both stopping in their tracks at the sight of the others.

"… now," the older Doctor finished with a slight smile.

"I take it Stephan said yes, then?" the new Whooves said.

"Ja, sure," Stephan said, waving a hand with a resigned smile. "Go. Confuse past me some more."

"Right you are," the new Whooves said, and walked out. The new Hooves shook his head, saying nothing, and followed.

"Is that really what I sound like?" Whooves asked.

"Yes," Hooves replied.

"Huh," Whooves said raising an eyebrow. "I really am annoying."

"Yes," Hooves said with a tired smile. "You are."

"Now all we need to do is get the portal up and we can Marcus back," Cheerilee said softly. "God, I miss him."

"Don't worry, Cher," Stephan said. "He's coming back. And hell - for the first time in years, we might actually be in a position to win this thing."

"Yeah," Cheerilee said with a smile. "Yeah, that's good."

***

Scottish Archives, February 23rd, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

"This is fucking awful!" John Idle barked angrily as he watched three young women struggle to jog around edge of the training area. "Maybe you three lazy cunts need another fifty laps."

Adagio Dazzle grimaced at the man's voice and tried to pick up her pace but her exhausted body was close to giving out. They'd been running in circles for hours and listening to abuse the entire time. Their minder didn't seem to find shouting at them boring no matter how much time he spent doing it. Still it had become a little easier than yesterday, or the day before that, but it was little consolation. It often just led to Idle demanding even more strenuous exercise from them.

He also hadn't been afraid of punishing them for even the slightest infraction. Sonata Dusk, her sister, still bore the black eye from earlier when she had done something - she wasn't sure what - that had upset him. Her other sister, Aria Blaze, on the other hand had dried blood on her face from a split lip and several small cuts that she had acquired over the course of the day and hadn't been allowed to clean.

Idle's raw hatred for them fed them of course, it was almost impossible for it not to. However the earphones he wore blocked out their songs and the moment he suspected trouble he turned on the shock collars.

As they finally made it to the marker they began to slow a little. This was the final lap of the gruelling training regimen Idle had subjected them to. Normally he liked to give them extra laps whenever they finished if he didn't like their conduct. By the look he was currently giving them, it seemed likely that he was going to make good on his previous threat. Adagio decided that if they were going to be given more work to do she might as well grab the closest thing to a break that she could get.

A man in a labcoat who had been observing their progress, whilst wearing headphones for the sake of safety of course, suddenly got up from the folding chair he had been sitting for the last few hours. He walked over to Idle and tentatively got the larger man's attention. Adagio saw a short and cautious conversation ensue. She was too tired to try to listen in but she could see that Idle didn't like what the man was saying.

The moment they were done speaking the man retreated and Idle turned his attention back to her and her sisters.

"Alright ladies," he said aggressively. "After the piss-poor performance you've given me today, I want nothing more than for you to start over again and show why I should waste my time on you. Unfortunately, I've been told I have to let you stop for today."

Adagio did her best not to sigh in relief openly, noticing that Sonata hadn't felt as reserved about it. Aria dropped to her hands and knees, dry heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

"Oi!" Idle then shouted, disgust on his face. "You don't get to lie down just yet. Now I want you to actually know why you're here." His tone didn't change but Adagio could feel some minor shift in his emotions, like he was switching from raw hatred to a colder, more refined and intentional fury. "You might have noticed that, while you're still as godawful as ever, this little jog I set you on was slightly easier than yesterday's. That's because my job, as much as I hate it, is to keep you alive. On the battlefield you're going to have to move about, a lot and there won't be any nice cosy cafes to sit down in if you feel a little out of breath. The Solaminan Empire isn't going to give you time - they're not gonna play nice, they're not gonna give you warm-up time or breaks or breathers. They're gonna try to kill you - and they're very, very good at that. Trust me." He scowled at them all. "The next time you feel like this should only be after you've been running across the battlefield for hours. Now bend over."

Adagio saw Idle reach for her and tried to get away from him. Too tired to properly struggle she felt him grab her hands and roughly shove them behind her back. The next thing she knew she felt the familiar pressure of her manacles slot back into place. Her wrists had already been rubbed raw by wearing them before and the dull ache she felt after wearing them so many times returned with a vengeance. He then shoved her to the ground. He did the same to Aria and then Sonata.

Once the three girls were cuffed and on the floor he went over to the corner of the room and picked up three ball gags. Walking back he went over to Sonata and grabbed her face, shoving the gag into her mouth and then reaching around to fix the clasp into place. Aria put up more of a fight when he came for her and received a hard uppercut to the chin for her trouble before having the gag fixed on unnecessarily forcibly. When he stood in front of Adagio, a scowl on his face, she decided to comply. By this point she didn't want to be punished again for some kind of infraction. However she did keep her head up and her face impassive, not wanting to get a rise out of him but also not appear cowed.

Once the gag was on he hauled her to her feet and moved to pick the other girls up. When Sonata was standing up again on shaky legs he shoved her forward.

"Get moving," he said irritably, giving a Adagio a shove as well.

He escorted them out of the training room and out into the corridors of the Archives. Personnel moved out of their way as they were led through the facility to their prison cell.

"Idle!" a voice called after them. Idle turned, and Adagio saw Rupert Giles and Alex Everett - Sir Alex Everett - walking up to the group. Giles was a grim-looking, older man, his glasses dirty and his tweed suit threadbare. Everett, like many Knights of Albion, had become an Iron Clad, and the Paladin I was as imposing on him as it was anyone else.

"Mr Giles," Idle said gruffly, though he inclined his head in respect.

"I trust your progress is… satisfactory?" Giles asked.

Idle gave a look at Adagio. She briefly wondered what he would say.

"It is," he finally replied. "They're lazy, argumentative little… so and so's, but they're getting better, can't lie and say they ain't. It's a struggle, but I'll get them ready for battle on schedule. You have my word on that."

Giles nodded. "Very good. Carry on, Mr Idle."

"Sir," Idle said.

Giles threw another look at the GG3, and then left. Idle scowled at them, all three looking at him in confusion.

"Don't get any ideas," he said. "You're not complete dogshit. That doesn't make you good, not by a long shot. Now get moving!"

And they carried on, Adagio left pondering the less-than-totally-nasty comments the man had made about them.

***

Hanger 17, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"Impressed?" asked a pale pink unicorn mare with a spiky red mane like Vinyl's but short on one side. She had a wrench in her TK, matching her cutie mark.

"Very," Elliot breathed. If anyone were to ask him if he meant the display of military might around him, the guns, the immaculate uniforms - there were uniforms in the BDF, but people mainly just wore what they could and had modified their suits with various talismans and trophies…

Or the portal swirling at the edge of the room. Everyone was looking up at it, waiting for Marcus to return. PHL of all nations and species - was that an anthropomorphic dog?! - stood at attention.

"It swirls," he said. "Why do these things always swirl?"

"I'unno," the mare said. "Style, I guess."

"How long did it take you to make this, anyway?" Elliot asked. "I mean, it's only been a few hours since Discord and Luna came."

"We actually captured the portal and recalibrated it," the mare explained.

"In a few hours?" Elliot asked.

"Well, we didn't have to do much work with Luna knowing a spell to move between universes," the mare explained. "Mostly, we just had to follow instructions."

"Still, a few hours…" Elliot whistled.

"We've had worse," the mare said. "I once had to fix a shield generator while I was getting shot at."

Elliot straightened the coat, trying his best to look vaguely military. Though the coat was British military in origin and very well tailored - not to mention surprisingly tough - he still felt incredibly unprepared. He hadn't had the chance to shave yet and his hair was rather unkempt, which made him feel even more shambolic. He felt like the one guy that had come to the party in a ratty t-shirt and jeans instead of a suit.

Next to him, Stephan - in full armour, making Elliot feel even more like the most underdressed man in the room - stood rigidly at attention. All around them were dozens, if not hundreds, of the best engineers and soldiers the PHL had, equipped to the teeth, and Elliot could see Photo Finish, a propaganda mare (who he knew of through her work with Resistance FM back home), talking to a blue Earth Pony mare about some of the camera shots they were setting up.

Discord was standing next to the portal - a massive, glowing arrangement of rainbow light. The BDF Major had to admit - it was all pretty impressive.

"So," Elliot said quietly to Stephan. "Do you… you know… trust this?"

"This Luna and Discord helped us kill the clone," Stephan replied. "So yeah, for what it's worth, I trust them." He threw the BDF Major a glance. "And I trust you - don't forget, to me you're as much an unknown as they are."

"True," Elliot noted, shrugging. "I'll follow your lead then. Suppose it's convenient that the parade group you've got meeting your Major has some of your top hitters."

"That's… not entirely coincidental," Cheerilee admitted, coming up to them.

"I thought it might not be," Elliot nodded. He glanced up at the giant plasma screen TV, upon which President Jack Davis of the United States of America was currently speaking with Princess Luna. He had heard Davis' name before - the man had been a Senator in his world's America. Evidently, he'd won the election this time. Probably for the best. He had, unfortunately, died when the Gilead Crisis erupted. He wondered vaguely what the man might make of Elliot's world.

"I guess I get to find out," he said quietly.

Luna turned to face Discord, and they had a brief exchange of words. After a moment, the Draconequus turned to face the gathered PHL forces.

"Alright," he said, "gimme a moment - I might have gotten this horribly, horribly wrong."

He stuck his head in the portal. A moment later, he pulled it out - and it was missing the flesh, revealing a grinning Draconequus skull.

"Seems to work fine," he said, grinning at them. There was a scream from somewhere, and a mare fainted. Cheerilee scowled, walked over to him, and kicked him square in the face. A small group of birds began flying around Discord's head, appearing from nowhere, and Luna sighed, clucking her tongue.

"Are you having fun?" she asked quietly.

Discord shook his head, the birds flying off (one of them pooping on an unfortunate PHL soldier). "Oh shut up. He's on his way."

After a moment, he put his head back in the portal. There were a few moments' pause, and Elliot threw Stephan a look, though the armoured man stayed staring straight ahead, and the Discord pulled his head out again, nodding at Luna, who turned to face the assembled soldiers, taking a breath.

"Soldiers!" she called out, her voice carrying across the hall. "I ask you to stand at attention for the return of your leader!"

The assembled troops stood at attention and even Elliot did so, and a moment later, out he came.

He was an indistinct figure at first, only vaguely recognisable as a humanoid figure walking out of the portal. A moment later, however, he had stepped out, and Elliot could see him clearly for the first time.

He had dirty blonde hair cropped close to his scalp, a strong jawline, stern, hard eyes that had clearly seen far too much in far too short a span, and he wore military fatigues that looked like they had (for want of a better phrase) "been through the wars". This could be no one other than the legendary Colonel Marcus Renee that Elliot had heard so much about.

Before anyone or anypony else could speak, Cheerilee bounded up to him, gripping him in what was likely the tightest hug a pony had ever delivered to a human being. He spoke soft words to her that no one else could here, and then straightened up to look at everyone in the room.

"So," he said, "I'm guessing I have a lot to catch up on."

His eyes swept the room, taking in everything. Finally, his gaze settled on Elliot and Stephan.

"Stephan?" Marcus asked, frowning at Elliot. Elliot tried to imagine what it was like from his perspective - he was a raggedy looking man with a military coat thrown over his old battered clothes. "Why do you have a tramp with you?"

Elliot raised an eyebrow. He threw Stephan a look, and the smirking German officer shrugged.

"Marcus," the German Major sighed, "You have no idea just how much you need to catch up on."

"Colonel Renee," Elliot saluted English-style, palm facing outward. "David Elliot, Major, British Defence Force. Avatar of Albion." He dropped the salute smartly. "Nice to meet you."

Marcus looked between him and Stephan, eyebrows rising into the air.

"O… kay," he said. "Why don't we start from the top?"

Conversation

Chapter Nine: Conversation.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
TheIdiot,
RoyalPsycho.
Jed R,

Editors
The Void,

"For that one fraction of a second, you were open to options you had never considered. That is the exploration that awaits you. Not mapping stars and studying nebulae, but charting the unknown possibilities of existence."
Q, Star Trek: The Next Generation - All Good Things.

"The enemy of my enemy is a problem for later - right now they might be useful."
Ciaphas Cain, Warhammer 40,000.

***

New Manehatten colony, February 23rd, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth (colonised area).

Hard Hat trotted through the open field as Earth's sun shone above him, giving a greeting as he began his long walk to work - it was to be busy day for everypony on Applebloom's payroll to construct the new houses for any coming settlers.

It wasn't that hard for him to adjust, all things considered. He had lived in the upstate countryside back when he was human, and all this was just upstate New York with some more green to it. Sure, it would be hard work to get the place up to the old standards, but nothing was impossible with enough hard work and dedication.

In fact, he could wager a month's paycheck that -

S-so t-terrible… s-so m-much loss…

The Converted stopped in his tracks, his eyes went wide as he tried to find what the source of the voice was.

'Am I just hearing things?' Hard Hat pondered, before turning to resume -

A-All t-this pain… t-too m-much… i-it h-hurts…

That time Hard Hat knew that he wasn't hearing things - he could feel a pull. Somepony must have been hurting badly; it was probably a Unicorn that was blindsided in Earth's naturally occurring magic.

The Converted stallion trotted over to find a nearby tree atop a hill. Under the tree was a Unicorn Stallion in a black vest resting against the base - his eyes were bloodshot and tears were running down his face.

'He must have been the one reaching out,' the Converted thought, eyeing the stallion. 'I better see if he hasn't had a stroke or something.'

Clearing his throat, Hard Hat approached the unicorn. "'Scuse me, sir - you alright?"

The unicorn didn't budge, he just seemed to stare out into space with his mouth hanging out.

Frowning, Hard Hat got closer and put a hoof to him. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The Converted waited for any sign for movement, any response, when one of the Stallion's eyes moved and looked at his general direction - it seemed to scan him from up to bottom.

N-no cutie m-mark.

Hard Hat's eyes brows furrowed, "Could you stop doing that? It's -"

"Converted…" the stallion rasped, both eyes were focused on Hard Hat - the Earth Pony stallion took a step back… this guy was giving him the chills.

"Uh yeah… what does that have to do -" Hard Hat started to speak when suddenly, he felt an intense pain in his head.

Poor victim, I will set you free; no more will you have to be forced to feel… 'happy'.

Somehow, Hard Hat found he couldn't so much as scream as his mind was pulled apart at the seams…

***

"It's okay, don't try to say anything… you're free now," the Unicorn whispered, as both his ears bled and the Newfoal's heart stopped. "That evil Alicorn isn't going to keep you in chains anymore. Don't worry."

Such information he started to grasp from the Newfoal - wait, no… Converted's mind showed some information on this world and its evil Alicorn. What he had seen from the Avatar's mind when he had met him in Boston had fueled his curiosity, and given him a desire to come here.

He didn't know why - maybe he had thought he could fix something, or find allies, or tear something apart with his bare hands…

What was I thinking? he thought to himself. What was I doing?

Something felt strange - wrong even. Like his mind was flickering, and different bits of memory were tapping away at his head like a hammer and chisel, taking bits of him away until there was… nothing. Suddenly, he remembered nothing - and his mind frantically grasped at straws, trying to find something, anything to cling onto.

Who am I, even? he thought softly. Who -

"Suxen Lleps," a memory spoke. He frowned. Did those two words - apart from sounding silly - mean something? He was sure they did - there was something possessive, like…

A name, he thought. That's my name.

To say a flood of memories returned would be an overstatement, but he did remember more. He had been somewhere, and now he was somewhere else. This somewhere else was filled with things like this Converted (Newfoal): enemies to be fought and killed. He knew that it had been a risk coming here, but Discord (the Foreign Discord some part of his mind added) occupying this world's corrupted Alicorn had allowed him to come undetected and remain relatively safe.

Safe... he was safe. He couldn't say the same for the millions and billions more of innocents that had died because of the Barrier, or those that had died from the war… he could hear it, even now, the droning of a million voices, justice, revenge, justice, revenge… like an ever spiralling descent into insanity.

The dead are strong in this place, and they cry out for vengeance against the cause of their pain. the thought was unbidden, but it was real, and absolute, unable to be ignored or denied.

He took a breath, looking around. Another world… but instead of Equestria being destroyed (TyrantSunBagOfTirekMonstersDemonsEnemies), it was the humans' world that was taken hold by a Tyrant, well most of it anyway. He needed to interfere, he needed to stall them, he needed to do… something - that damn bag would wait, this had more pressing matters that needed his attention…

So much we need to do, so much and so little time, so much to accept, so much to absorb… where to start?

"Where indeed…" Suxen muttered out loud, looking out to the buildings far away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised that maybe he should have been more concerned about the fact that his memories were shattered and the pieces scattered, but he felt surprisingly blase about the whole thing.

After all, it was to save Equestria.

***

Hanger 17, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

After a conversation with President Davis, and a brief moment to see the forces heading to the other Equestria off - Stephan Bauer included, which made Elliot feel sort of sad, since the man had become a good comrade, if not exactly a friend - Marcus Renee went off to have a briefing with some officers (namely Cheerilee and Kellman). Elliot found time, about twenty minutes after was left, momentarily at least, on his own in the hanger - well, there were people milling about, but they were focused on moving things about, and maintaining the portal. Discord - still here - was having a conversation with a few ponies about whatever the hell he was having a conversation about.

"Worried?" a familiar voice asked quietly from near him.

Elliot looked, to see the Doctor - his Doctor - looking up at him with a tired smile.

"Always," Elliot replied quietly, looking back up. "This is all well and good for these people, but…"

"But you want to go home," the Doctor said.

"I'd have asked you to take us back already if I didn't feel like I wanted to help these folks somehow," Elliot said with a slight sigh. "But I've fought alongside them, y'know? I can't just say 'well, ride's here, good luck lads and lasses'."

"Well, you could," the Doctor said, shrugging. "I just don't think you would, would you?"

"Couldn't anyway," Elliot said simply, smiling slightly. "And I guarantee they wouldn’t, either." He paused. "Anyway. I've got a job."

"Finding the Avatar of Light for this world," the Doctor said sagely. Elliot looked down at him in surprise and the older pony smirked. "Kraber does not keep secrets well. I believe by now half the complex has heard of 'David Elliot, the man who punched Celestia's face off'."

Elliot clucked his tongue. "I punched into her skull, and then pulled her face off. There's a difference, y'know." He blanched. "Jesus Christ, I say that very casually."

The Doctor sighed. "I believe we have reached the point where little can disgust us anymore."

"I dunno," Elliot said, smirking. "This place has managed to surprise me quite a bit in that regard. And in other ways, too, mind you."

"True," the Doctor said wistfully. "I believe it surprised me as well. For example, apparently this world's Doctor married Ditzy - well, 'Derpy'."

Elliot looked down at him, a little concerned for his friend. Ditzy was… well, something to a sore spot for the Doctor. He never liked discussing it.

"You ok?" he asked

"Moving on," the Doctor said quietly.

Elliot sighed, looking back up. That was about what he had been expecting, but he owed it to his friend to try - both the Doctor and Ditzy, really.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked, changing the subject. "I assume we won?"

"The Solaminan forces fled London for reasons unknown," the Doctor said quietly. "For us, it had already been weeks since you vanished when I left the Archives. It may have been more in relative terms since then."

Elliot frowned, looking back down at him again. "They… just left?"

"They just left," the Doctor repeated quietly. "And no. We don't know why. Resistance operatives in Equestria report buildup, but… it's not aimed at us. You'd think the prospect of not getting attacked would calm people down, but -"

"She's planning something," Elliot said. "That's obvious."

"But what…?" the Doctor mused.

"Well," Elliot said, flexing a fist. "I've killed one Alicorn. Might as well aim for two. Might actually be able to pull it off if my lucky streak of not coughing my lungs out when I use the power keeps up."

"Indeed," the Doctor said. "Let us hope that it is indeed a streak, and not a fluke. The technology here - if you can call it that - could be helpful in that regard."

"Oh?" Elliot asked.

"Excuse me?" a voice cut in before the Doctor could reply.

Elliot and the Doctor turned, to see Marcus Renee standing nearby. He looked faintly confused, but still smiled slightly when he met Elliot's gaze. Elliot knew Cheerilee had briefly talked with him, filling him in on some details, but he still seemed a bit bemused by it all.

"Marcus Renee," he began with, holding out his hand. "Since we haven't introduced ourselves properly. Better without the bullshit."

Elliot blinked as the man stood there, a slight smirk on his face. Elliot took the hand and smiled, a little uncertainly.

"David Elliot," he said quietly. "You'll have to forgive me, you're…"

"Not quite what you were expecting from me," Marcus replied with a knowing grin. "I get that sometimes."

Elliot's smile grew a little more confident as he released the man's hand. He had a strong grip - this was a man who was confident without arrogance. That was good.

"I was hoping we could go chat in private?" Marcus asked, indicating a small room nearby.

"That's fair," Elliot said. He looked down at the Doctor. "I'll talk later."

"Indeed," the Doctor replied. "I shall take the opportunity to… what's the word? Snoop?"

Elliot chuckled. "You do that, Doc."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and trotted off, and Elliot followed Renee into the little office, hoping that this conversation might prove in some way helpful.

***

Canterlot Palace, Year 2 Anno Harmonia - 'Downtime' Equus.

A tyrant with my face, and now a war to destroy her or be destroyed. This has certainly been… an interesting experience.

Princess Celestia was thinking about war. It wasn't a very fun thought, but then again she hadn't expected it to be, given the fact that she hadn't managed to physically fight in a war for decades - no, centuries.

Is Equestria ready for the burden I am about to place upon it? she wondered to herself. I know my little ponies would walk into the fire in a heartbeat, but Equestria is a peaceful land. Can they really do what they must?

Can I?

"Sister," a voice said from behind her.

Celestia turned to see Luna staring at her, the Alicorn of the Moon looking somber, a reflection of the Sun Diarch's own expression no doubt. After everything Luna had apparently seen, after fighting even a clone of the Tyrant, Celestia couldn't blame her.

"Luna," Celestia said quietly. "How are you?"

"As well as these times allow us to be," Luna said quietly. "The human soldiers are already moving in, and setting up their equipment."

"That is something," Celestia said, smiling slightly. Her smile faltered at Luna's expression. "Is there something else?"

Luna took a deep breath. "Sister… Celestia… there is something we must discuss. A matter has arisen in the human world that has made this situation much more complicated."

Celestia frowned. "Go on, Luna."

Luna frowned, as though trying to collate her thoughts. "In the human world, when we met Marcus' colleague, Major Bauer, there was another human with him."

The emphasis over the word 'another' was too prominent to ignore. Whatever Luna had to say… it was important.

"Go on," Celestia said quietly.

Luna took a deep breath. "He was from another world, sister. Another Earth, facing a grave threat all its own. It was similar, sister. But far worse."

"How much worse?" Celestia asked. "Marcus lost nearly half of his world. That is terrible enough already."

"Before the war with the Solar Empire, Earth's population - in both worlds - was 7 billion," Luna said.

Celestia had known this - Marcus was just bitter enough in his visit to Equestria that he hadn't exactly been subtle about just how much had been lost - and yet the figure still staggered her. Almost moreso than the people that had been lost or ponified, or the amounts of newfoals in an Equestria that was, without a doubt, unprepared for those kinds of population figures. I don't have the infrastructure to support that kind of population of my little ponies, she had realized.

"Now? The other world’s human population is close to…" Luna seemed to hesitate.

"Yes?" Celestia asked, curious yet apprehensive.

"Fourteen million," Luna finished. “Sister, I cannot help but see this as a warning.”

Fourteen million… from 7 billion... that is impossible - that sort of scale, that sort of damage… almost 98% of a population, gone...

"What… what did it?" Celestia asked, already terribly afraid that she knew the answer. And as Luna began to speak, Celestia felt the blood drain from her face. This was definitely important…

***

Hanger 17, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

The Doctor looked back, watching Elliot and Marcus leave the hangar, before getting his sonic screwdriver out and taking some quick readings. Getting a fix on the quantum signature of this universe would allow for easier navigation. He frowned slightly as he concentrated on the readings he was getting - they were definitely… erratic.

"Excuse me?" one of the ponies said to him. "Are you alright?"

"Just scanning," he said idly. "Nothing too concerning."

"Scanning for what?" the pony asked, frowning.

The Doctor sighed, turning - only to find himself staring at Ditzy Doo, or rather "Derpy Hooves", this world's Doctor's wife.

Wife. That just seemed wrong to him, as though…

Irrelevant.

"Scanning," he said slowly, "for the quantum signature of this world - everything within a reality has the same quantum signature. It is how one differentiates."

"So we have different quantum signatures?" Derpy asked, looking at him with both eyes (an effort for her, he knew).

"Yes," the Doctor replied. He scanned her, before looking at his screwdriver. "Your quantum signature is also different from most of the surrounding matter - you're from Equestria, not Earth."

Derpy nodded slowly. "I think my Doctor has mentioned this stuff, but it's never been that important."

"No doubt because he already had the necessary information," the Doctor replied softly. "For me, it is a little more complicated. I spent some time searching parallel worlds for Elliot's time trace."

"His what?" Derpy asked, frowning slightly.

The Doctor sighed. "Every individual has a time trace - perhaps your Doctor has not mentioned those, either. No doubt he has yet to need to resort to such an unreliable method of searching for someone."

"Why is it unreliable?" Derpy asked.

"Because - in David Elliot's case - there are many time traces," the Doctor said simply. "The same could rightly be said of all of us, but his tend to follow similar paths, especially close - in dimensional terms - to where we were. There are David Elliots who end up hopping the multiverses, David Elliots who ended up in peaceful Equestrias, David Elliots who succeeded in reaching Solamina's palace. Sometimes there are David Elliots who never left, and they stayed to die instead, and other choices lay before those who were left. There are many variables."

"I see," Derpy said quietly.

There was a long moment's pause as the Doctor continued scanning.

"You don't like me," Derpy said after a while. "Do you?"

"I don't know you," the Doctor replied, throwing her a glance. "I am certain that you are a worthy individual if my alternate self has married you."

"That's not what I meant," Derpy said. "You don't like me because I look like your friend."

The Doctor closed his eyes. "That is not strictly accurate."

"Then why don't you -"

"She had a coat roughly nought point five shades lighter than yours." the Doctor began, his voice cold and yet cracking with some sort of emotion. "Her cutie mark had one more bubble, positioned in the top left of the arrangement. Her eyes were a lighter shade of amber, closer to true yellow. She had a cap on her upper right incisor from an incident as a foal." The Doctor looked at her, his eyes wet with unshed tears, yet cold. "To me, you and she look nothing alike."

Derpy blinked. "Oh."

"I have no problem with you," the Doctor said, speaking more softly now. "I do not know you. My counterpart clearly finds you worthy company, but your presence here is clearly a transparent attempt to make me 'feel better'. You cannot."

Derby looked at him for a long moment. "She mattered a lot to you."

"I watched her die and I could do nothing," he replied, his voice becoming uncharacteristically cold and harsh. "I went back, and tried, but I. Could. Do. Nothing."

"Why?" she asked.

"There are many rules," the Doctor said. "Bending them is unwise. Breaking them is unthinkable. I… made alterations, slight ones. More than I should have. But those changes were minor, and they will not change the one thing I wish I could."

"That's why you changed, isn't it?" Derpy asked, frowning sadly.

"It is," the Doctor said quietly. He returned to his scanning. "I appreciate your concern, Miss Doo -"

"Mrs Whooves," Derpy corrected absently.

"Mrs Whooves," the Doctor repeated. "But I would like to be left to my work."

Derpy stared sadly at him for a moment longer, then left him be. He continued scanning, trying not to think too much about the familiar-but-different mare who had just left.

***

Just above an improvised hospital in Boston…

"Are you alright?" Kraber asked, cell phone set to speakerphone on a coffee table. Aegis was lying on a couch nearby. "I heard Montreal got pretty bad."

"You don't know the half of it," Yael sighed from the other end. "Damn. Everything hurts."

"I know that feel," Kraber said. "I fell three stories on my back! It… it hurt."

"Says the man that got his… potentiometers…" Yael gave up midsentence. "I have no idea what that means."

"I thought you studied medicine too?" Aegis asked.

"I studied podiatry in college so I could go into that after dance," Yael said. "A friend of Cousin Nny said it was a good idea, so…" she sighed. "But, well, you know how that goes."

Aegis and Kraber nodded, then abruptly realized that it wasn't a video call and added their assent.

"We should be asking if you two are alright, though," Heliotrope said. "You were at ground zero! The Queen Bitch was there herself, and that…"

"You're responsible for the rumors we've been hearing, aren't you," Yael said. It wasn't a question.

"I saw a man rip Queen Celestia's clone's head apart!" Kraber said. "It's really hard to keep that under wraps."

"He does have a point," Heliotrope said. "I mean, with Gestalt… my mind was buckin' racing. One question, though, Viktor. Did you actually get to piss in her skull?"

"No, Elliot wouldn't let me," Kraber sighed.

"You were actually planning on that?!" Yael yelled.

"...Does this actually surprise you by now?" Aegis asked.

"I was tuning you kak, alright?" Kraber asked. "...Mostly. The pieces weren't big enough for me to try that."

"Gross," Yael said.

"By the way," Heliotrope said. "What's that about Elliot? That guy we met back in Fairport?"

"The one I told not to bother with the Mod-3, yeah," Aegis said.

"You did, yes. That thing's like the Baksha ASP of rocket launchers… and a cheap copy of my favorite rifle," Yael said. "Oh, great, Kraber's rubbing off on you."

"I've always liked big guns," Aegis said.

"Fair enough," Yael said. "Though… well, Heliotrope and I have been wondering. What happened? I was real worried about you and Aegis."

"You're starting to care, are ya, Yael?" Kraber asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Yael said bluntly, throwing Kraber for a loop. "For a long time now, but God help us if you end up in command of a mission with me aboard."

"Yeah, I wouldn't like that either," Kraber agreed. "Fair point."

"It's just… you said you saw a man rip Celestia's head apart. And there's rumors of a glowing god-knight thing -"

"There's already rumors about it being part of a secret PHL army, aren't there," Aegis sighed.

"Well -" Heliotrope started.

"Yes," Yael said bluntly.

"Fok! I never even… the fokking… where the fok’d they get that from?" Kraber sighed. "Well. Can't be helped. But long story short, remember those weird dreams I used to have? Back when I was telling that story to Verity, or when we were camped out searching for her? Apparently, they weren't just dreams."

"I thought you talked about that with Elliot?" Heliotrope asked. "When we all got back to New York?"

"Funny thing about that," Aegis said. "Turns out? Those worlds Kraber would dream of? There's another Elliot from one of them."

"He's the Tyrantslayer," Yael guessed. "But… how? How'd he get here?"

"We have no idea," Kraber said. "Personally? I think whatever it was that sent Marcus off to…" he paused. "Okay, that's too classified. Do you know where he went?"

Yael and Heliotrope confirmed that they had.

"Anyway, I think whatever it was that sent Marcus there, accidentally swept another Elliot up here. The person that sent Elliot? According to him, they had the same idea in mind. Send the best into the belly of the beast -"

"Whatever sent Marcus?" Heliotrope asked.

"Sure," Kraber said. "It's all a bit convenient, isn't it? You could say it's a miracle."

"Sounds about right," Yael said. "It does make you wonder what might be looking out for us…"

"I'm tempted to register a complaint with them," Aegis said.

"Yeah, me t-” Yael’s voice cut out so abruptly that for a second, Aegis and Kraber thought the phone service had gone out…

...Right up to the moment that they heard Heliotrope asking Yael if everything was okay. The two of them breathed identical sighs of relief.

“Wait a second," Yael said, something strange in her voice. She sounded as if she was coming from very far away, as if she'd retreated into the back of her mind. "If your dreams are coming true… what about that Eldritch Abomination thing that has an army that could take out the Solar Empire and the PHL like squat? Is that real, too?"

"God, I hope not," Kraber said. "I didn't want to think about it too hard."

"Why not?" Yael asked.

"Hey, not thinking about the future is how I haven't shot myself in the face," Kraber said. "It's… I've got enough to worry about at the moment."

"But if that thing could be real…" Yael said, "don't you - don't we have a responsibility to do something? Warn somebody?"

"What would we do?" Kraber asked. "I figured we have enough to deal with. Besides, what if we accidentally contact it? I… don't want to think about that."

Yael clucked her tongue on the other end of the line. "Sticking our heads in the sand will just end with the rest of us getting crushed by the sandstorm."

"Fair enough," Kraber said. "Sandstorms are fokking kak. But… alright. I guess we should."

"I'll get on it," Yael said grimly. "There's gotta be somebody left up here who'll listen."

"Good luck," Kraber said. "It…. it said it would come. That it always would."

"We'll need it," Yael replied with a tone laced with gallows humour. "By the way. Do you… did you ever have a plan for that?"

"Oh, I thought up a contingency for at least one thing," Kraber said, a smile on his face.

"And…?" Heliotrope asked.

"Let's not talk about it over the phone," Kraber said. "Just… just in case. Besides, you'll probably laugh. It's… kind of full of more holes than my wife's old fishnets -"

"TMI!" Heliotrope yelled.

"Hey, I couldn't think of much else," Kraber shrugged.

***

Private office, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

This was going to be interesting, that much Elliot knew. This was his chance to speak with Marcus Renee, the man who was supposedly the best hope this new Earth had.

"So," Marcus said with a sigh, "I hear you pulled a couple of stunts that confused our guys."

"Possibly," Elliot replied with a shrug. "To be fair though, I reckon I win on the 'being confused' stakes."

"So I hear," Marcus said, his smile fading. "Hard to think that there's a whole 'nother world with another Tyrant in it. I thought having one of her was bad enough."

"Yeah," Elliot said with a smirk. "Tell me about it. Hey, at least you've got more troops, and better guns to boot."

"Yeah," Marcus said, his smile returning, though tinged with a bit of melancholy. "We never had some guy with a giant magical sword though. Coulda maybe done with knowing magic worked like that on people."

"I think having guns that can kill Alicorns probably makes up for it," Elliot chuckled.

"Maybe," Marcus said, smiling slightly stil. There was a pause before he spoke again. "From what Discord's said, he's going to go try to find your world after we're all through the portal."

"He never said anything about having found it on his last sojourn," Elliot noted with a shrug. "'Maybe he'll have better luck this time."

"Well, I hope he finds your world as quick as he did mine," Marcus said sincerely. "It sounds to me like your people really need you."

"Yeah," Elliot frowned. "I hope he finds it quickly too - I hated leaving, but…"

Marcus held up a hand. "From what I hear, you left thinking you'd end up on your Tyrant's front door, with the intent of giving her the same treatment you gave the Tyrant's clone. Now me? I'd call that pretty rash, but hearing what I've heard, you left for a good reason."

"Where did you hear that?" Elliot asked.

"Well, I had to go for a quick debriefing with some of the top brass about the other Equestria," Marcus said. "Are they our allies, am I sure I'm not being played, questions like that. But you were all everyone was talking about, besides me. I… asked."

Elliot shrugged. "Fair play. Can't disagree with the 'rash' part. Not like we have a choice - some of us don't have Alicorn-killer bullets to hand."

Marcus smirked at that. "No, I guess you don't ." He paused. "Well done, by the way. Don't imagine many folks have had chance to say that to you."

"Ha," Elliot snorted. "Well done for smacking a clone around and nearly killing myself doing it, you mean."

"No, I mean 'well done for killing the clone' - the clone who, all reports indicated, was pretty fucking scary," Marcus said, emphasising every word. "Sure, it wasn't the real deal - but it was still fucking big."

Elliot shook his head. "I still should have known."

"Magic doesn't make you infallible," Marcus pointed out. "Short of her telling you - which, according to what I read of the reports, she only did after you'd smacked her around and everybody from Discord to Kraber got a shot in - there's no way you were supposed to know she wasn't the real deal." He paused. "Though... you realise, the real thing is probably more powerful…"

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," Elliot said heavily. He sighed. "I don't know what the hell your Tyrant is, but..."

He trailed off.

"It's not ours. But what?" Marcus asked, looking curious.

"There's something behind her," Elliot frowned, folding his arms and resisting the urge to shiver. "It's… not very good at hiding itself. That or it doesn't care to."

"From what I've heard, I'd say the latter," Marcus said with a sour smile. "Ask Discord - he'll fill you in on what she is. It's... pretty disturbing, all things considered."

There was a pause.

"Still," the Marine added, "you didn't do so bad. I mean come on - punching her face off? Pretty impressive stuff."

"I think Kraber and the others were more annoyed that they didn't get to kill her themselves," Elliot shrugged. "Reckon I owe them an Alicorn for this one."

"They'll all get their chance. There's still the real deal to consider," Marcus pointed out, smirking, "and she'll need more than one guy with fancy armour."

"Ha," Elliot smirked. "Or one guy with fancy tattoos."

"You're telling me," Marcus said with a slight laugh. "Thought I did ok against Princess Celestia in the other Equestria, only for her to end up reshaping a good chunk of a lake and a mountain - she must've been going easy on me. I think it might take more than you and me - and probably more than Stephan, Kraber, and half the artillery in North America, magic or not."

"At least you have half the artillery of North America," Elliot said with a shrug. "I'd be lucky if I could get my people to summon up the equivalent of half the artillery of North bloody Korea."

"Huh," Renee said. "You've got magic though."

"What little we can use," Elliot said with a sardonic smirk. "I'm about the best you'll get."

"Killed an Alicorn?" Renee pointed out.

"I somehow doubt Astra Solamina will ever bother stepping beyond the borders of her Empire when she can just throw billions of Convies at us," Elliot said, chuckling slightly at the sudden mental image he had of her sat on her throne, throwing Convies at a map of Britain.

"Hey, your Barrier's stopped - properly stopped," Marcus pointed out, sitting himself down on one of the chairs. "That's something. Ours is gonna start moving again soon, and we don't have a way to stop it."

"Yeah," Elliot said, "there is that. Still, you guys have guns, tech, resources, runic magics that you can use… we don't have much to compare with that. World War II stuff, World War I stuff, a whole other bunch of things from across twenty years worth of tech, but nothing matching here for numbers and advances."

"All our tech means jack shit if we die to the Barrier anyway," Renee pointed out, looking somewhat sour.

"Maybe," Elliot sighed. "I wish I could offer more help."

"Killed an Alicorn?" Renee said again.

"Hey, I'm one bloke, and you yourself said you think the real deal will be tougher," Elliot rejoined. "Apart from me, we don't have much spare to even defend our own borders with, and certainly not much we can offer you lot - sure, we've got men with guns, but 'standard issue' isn't as standard as we'd like - a lot of troops are working with a bunch of knackered WWII antiques. I mean, there's a few things - Watcher's Council stuff, couple of prototype designs… maybe the Knights of Albion…"

"The say what now?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. "What the hell are they?"

"Not as grandiose as they sound," Elliot said with a slight chuckle. "Though give 'em credit, they're immune to the potion and their blessing makes them…"

"Immune to the potion?" Marcus repeated, cutting him off. "You kidding me?"

"No," Elliot said, frowning slightly. "It's a… well, an Albion thing… the stuff sort of boils off whenever it hits them..."

He trailed off at Marcus' expression, somewhere between confused and amazed.

"Is it a hard thing to do?" Marcus asked.

"Um, well you'd need to be 'knighted'," Elliot replied, "and it isn't some permanent thing - only lasts so long until the blessing wears off temporarily, but…"

"But, that is still something," Marcus said, grinning. He pointed at his tattoos. "These things just protect, they don't boil it off, and I get maybe five minutes to get that crap off me before - well, 'boom'."

"Boom?"

"Boom."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "I can see why you might want something less… volatile."

"Yeah," Marcus said, his smile fading. "But it was the best idea on hand. Better than what happened to my little bro. Look… I might as well be straight up with you, I don't know if we can help you." At Elliot's confused expression he sighed. "Your world. I know you might be expecting us to be able to help you, but…"

Elliot held up a hand. "You have a lot of shit on. I get that. We can help each other however we can, and maybe…" He sighed. "Maybe that'll be enough to save our respective worlds, maybe it won't, but it's better than nothing."

"Maybe," Marcus said with a slight nod. "What are you going to do?"

Elliot sighed. "Until I get a chance to get home, I have a… job." He frowned. "Actually, while we're at it…"

Kraber had already suggested Marcus Renee, and now he was here, and Elliot could try to judge him for himself. Elliot considered the man before him - brave, determined, strong. From what he's heard, Marcus Renee was the last hope of his people - their hero, their idol, as much a figurehead as Elliot was considered back home. It was entirely likely…

He held out a hand, and suddenly Excalibur materialised. Marcus started, but then Elliot slammed the blade into the ground, blade first. Embedded, it stood on its own as Elliot removed his hand.

"...what?" Marcus said, eyeing the blade with a slight frown. "The hell is this?"

"This is a test," Elliot said, stepping back from the sword. "You know about Excalibur, right? 'Whoso pulleth out this sword from this stone…'"

"'...is right wise King born of all England'," Marcus finished with a nod. "Except…"

"In this case, it's less 'King of England', and more 'Avatar of Light'," Elliot said with a wry grin. "But that's the basic gist."

"Why me?" Marcus asked.

Elliot chuckled. "To start with, because you have to ask. You're not up your own arse about the whole thing. But on a more practical note - you're the big damn hero, mate. People look up to you. You've got strength of will, determination… you'd be my first choice for the job. Not," he added, throwing a glance at the sword, "that it's really my place to choose."

"I'm no hero," Marcus said. "I've done terrible things. I… didn't react all that well when I was sent to Equestria."

"Who would?" Elliot asked. "I know I wouldn't."

"Still… from what I heard in the debrief, that's a lot of punch you're packing," Marcus said. "I'm not sure I'm the guy."

"Like I said," Elliot said, gesturing at Excalibur. "Not my call. Besides, who was I gonna ask? Kraber?"

The change on Marcus' face from stoicism and inquisitiveness to panic was almost instantaneous.

"He unvolunteered himself," Elliot explained quickly. "Something about… feeding PER to wolves?"

"Twice was enough… wait, the sword's gonna decide?" Marcus asked with a slight raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Elliot said, smirking. "Come on - don't tell me you don't believe this, after all the stuff you've seen?"

Marcus thought about that for a moment, and then sighed, before laughing out loud.

"You know what?" he said, stepping up to the sword. "Fuck it."

He grabbed the hilt of the blade.

There was a flash of light.

***

Nowhere.

Marcus blinked, looking around at his surroundings. He was in a white void that seemed to expand ever outward, with no end in sight.

"Hello?" he called out, frowning and tensing slightly. This was... not somewhere he had expected to be, and frankly he'd had his fill of 'unexpected shit' these last few days.

"Sorry about this," a familiar voice said from behind him. Marcus turned back, and found himself facing... he couldn't believe this... Elliot, wearing his military coat and looking somewhat sheepish.

"Elliot, what the hell is this?" the Marine asked somewhat antagonistically (understandably really). "Where the hell are we?"

"We're technically nowhere," Elliot replied. "And I'm not Elliot."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "All evidence otherwise."

The man-who-looked-like-Elliot sighed. "When Elliot took this mantle on, he was judged by... shall we say, an 'impression' of the previous Avatar of Albion, Arthur, King of the Britons. Now, he is the last bearer, and I am the one who judges."

"So you're... a mental impression of Elliot?" Marcus guessed.

"Correct," the impression said. "You don't seem surprised."

"I have some experience with mental impressions of folks," Marcus said dryly.

"Huh," the impression said, peering off into the distance. "Is that… is that Celestia waving at me? With a pink mane?"

"It is," Marcus said. "It'd take too long to explain. So what's your deal?"

The impression smiled wanly. "I'm here to judge whether you are the Avatar of your world, and whether you're worthy to bear Excalibur, and if you are, I can facilitate that happening..."

He trailed off, frowning at Marcus.

"That doesn't look like a good frown," Marcus said slowly.

"Hm?" the impression said. "Oh, no, it's nothing bad. You've got a lot of things going on, is all."

Marcus gave a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "You can say that again, pal."

The impression frowned slightly. "Also, much as Elliot would want to understand what you've had to do… some of it wouldn't slide with him."

"Huh?" Marcus asked. "He's… well, he's a soldier, isn't he?"

"He would describe himself as such, but you and he are very different men," the impression said. "Would you believe, he wants to run a bookshop?"

"Seriously?" Marcus asked.

"Seriously," the impression said with a grin. "Like I said. You're different men. He… would rather not be what he is."

It said nothing more despite Marcus giving it a questioning look, and so he ignored that comment.

The impression kept looking at Marcus as though analysing him, before slowly shaking his head.

"No," he said carefully. "There's a lot of potential here, but I think not."

Marcus folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

"You're strong and determined, and there's a whole chunk of willpower here," the impression said by way of explanation, "but... ultimately, your destiny lies elsewhere, changed somewhat as it is by this turn of events."

"My 'destiny'?" Marcus repeated. "I have one of those?"

"Half yes. Half no," the impression said, waving a hand airily. "Fate isn't immutable, but this you is not the destined Avatar of Light here. That role belongs to another - one you know, I think, though I couldn't quite tell you who. Even if it did belong to you, though, well… I'll be honest. Colonel, you are incredibly overworked."

Marcus shrugged and nodded. He couldn't very well argue with that.

"So dumping this on me isn't on the cards?" he asked.

"Even if it were," the impression said, "I'd argue that your destiny is enough work already."

"Don't suppose you can tell me what this brilliant destiny is, then?" Marcus asked, irritated by this.

"Afraid not," the impression said, winking as it faded away. "You'll have to see for yourself..."

***

Private office, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

And just like that, Marcus was back in the room. Elliot was frowning at him, scrutinising him almost like he expected him to sprout a horn and wings.

Marcus laughed.

He laughed long and hard and heartily. It was a laugh that let go of the absurdity of his life, of the stupidity of some of the things he had seen, of the unexpected pain some of those ridiculous things had caused him. Marcus laughed so hard and so infectiously that Elliot couldn't help but laugh with him.

"Damn, Dave," Marcus said after a moment, still laughing. He clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'll tell you somethin' - this… all of this… is way outta my experience."

"Welcome to my world, Colonel," Elliot grinned, a few sniggers still escaping his mouth. "Hope you like the wallpaper."

***

Scottish Archives, February 24th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Adagio stared up at the white ceiling of her cell. Their last training session had ended with countless scratches and several bruises, the latter provided by their handler. He had left them with the usual stream of abuse, punctuating it with the occasional warning that everything he was doing to them paled in comparison to what the Solaminan Empire they would be fighting could do.

At first they had ignored him, merely preferring to resent him for his raw hatred towards them. Now, however, after repeating his warning so many times, his words were finally starting to affect them.

All three girls were now silent, every one of them pondering the future with no small amount of dread. They were going to war. True they had seen conflict, caused plenty of them as well, and they were no strangers to death… but they had never actually fought before. After they had been returned to their cell they had all gone off to find their own little area to think and worry over the future.

"Dagi," Sonata said quietly. Adagio turned to look at the younger Siren. The blue haired girl was sat on the bed, her knees curled up to her chest.

"Yeah?" Adagio replied.

"We're going to fight," the younger girl said meekly, "right?"

"Yeah," Adagio repeated, her tone indicating a dreadful finality.

"It'll be like Capricopia won't it?" Sonata then squeaked, burying her face in her knees.

"Shut up!" Aria shouted from the other end of the room. "Just shut up! Never say that name again!"

Adagio was stunned by what Sonata had brought up. The three of them had promised to never bring up their home or their lives before they had left the seas and taken to the skies. Unpleasant memories of cities crumbling and blood staining the water came unbidden to her mind. She remembered sharks feeding on the outskirts of the dying settlements whilst blooddrunk Hippocampus butchered their neighbours and fed off the fear and despair that surrounded them. Back then their whole world had gone mad and they had been forced to live through it.

"Yeah," Adagio said simply, her head in her hands. She was doing her best not to break down at the thought of seeing war, real war, again.

"I don't want to see that again," Sonata cried, sobbing into her legs as she curled up even tighter.

"I said shut up," Aria growled again.

"Quiet both of you," Adagio snapped, earning a sad hiccup from Sonata and a violent glare from Aria. The yellow and orange haired girl stood up and scowled down at her sisters. "Like it or not we're stuck here and this bastards are going to throw us into some kind of meat grinder until we either win or get chewed up."

Sonata looked close to tears now and even Aria was shaken by the inevitability that had been forced on her.

Adagio took several deep breathes, her heart racing as she tried to repress more terrible memories.

"I swear we're going to live through this. I don't care what this Solamina throws at us. We survived Cacophony the Bloody Noise," Sonata flinched at the mention of the name, "and Concerta the Deep Dweller. If we can live through that then we can live through anything."

"Yeah," Aria said, "but we can't run away this time. They'll come after us. Like Saltarello."

Adagio's face fell as Aria's words sunk in. In an instant her determined expression melted away and was replaced by one of barely hidden terror and pain. Her eye twitched and her stomach churned as even more horrible thoughts of blood, violence, violation and fear bubbled up from deep within her memory. Her thunder stolen, she fell back down to the ground, her legs giving out. She pulled her legs up to her chest and buried her face in her knees.

"Dagi?" Sonata asked, close to tears as she saw her confident leader collapse to the floor.

"Shut up," Adagio whispered, her body shaking, "just shut up."

"That's what I thought," Aria sneered, her own fear barely concealed by a look of contempt.

Silence fell over the room once again as all three sirens thoughts turned to the coming carnage. War was coming for them once again and this time there was no way they could run from it, no way they could hide from it and no way they could ignore it.

***

Hanger 17, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"So," Marcus said quietly, standing in front of Elliot again. As Elliot watched, the last troops were ferried through the portal. Cheerilee was standing near them, looking as

"So," Elliot responded, the BDF Major smiling slightly. He found that he liked Renee - the two of them had definitely seen some similar things, and Elliot couldn't help but feel some kinship with the man.

"Sure I can't convince you to come back through with me?" Marcus asked. "I'm sure Celestia would be more than happy to hear it from you in person."

"The question is, would I want to meet Celestia?" Elliot asked, shaking his head.

"She's actually ok," Marcus said.

"I don't doubt it - doesn't mean I want to meet her," Elliot said. "Big deal, after all. That's another version of 'the Tyrant'." He paused, smirking. "Even if I wanted to, I don't speak for anyone at the moment. Without a way back to my home, I'd be pissing in the wind. In fact, I'm not sure you should tell her about Solamina at all."

"Why not?" Marcus asked.

"I dunno, dumping another war on her shoulders seems… excessive," Elliot said with a shrug. "'Specially since we've no way of getting back to my world yet."

"Special emphasis on the 'yet'," Discord put in, appearing next to the group. "Don't worry 'bout it. I've got 'a plan'." He tapped his nose with a grin.

"Speaking as somepony who uses that line a lot," the Doctor commented, the older pony trotting up to the little congregation with an odd grin, "you should perhaps attempt to be more convincing."

Discord shrugged.

"You're sure you have to go with them?" Elliot asked the Doctor. The older pony had resolved to go to this other Equestria to learn what he could. His TARDIS had already been taken with the departing troops.

The older stallion shrugged. "Not necessarily 'sure' - I do not know what useful information I may uncover from my research. What I do know is that I will be able to research the differences between Equestrias, and more importantly contact my other self."

"Is that wise?" Cheerilee asked quietly.

"We are parallels of one another, not the same stallion at different points in our respective timelines," the older Doctor said with a smile. "There is no risk - save the risk that he will be hostile to me, but I can tolerate that."

"And having him on side and up to speed is gonna be a good idea," Elliot finished.

"Indeed," the older Doctor said. "It is a more productive use of my time than attempting to return to our world. The TARDIS is not guaranteed to be reliable in such a matter."

"And Discord is?" Cheerilee asked, raising an eyebrow.

"His previous reputation aside," the old stallion said with a wry grin, "he is the one who brought Colonel Renee here back to this world."

Cheerilee nodded. "Good point."

"Trust issues are an issue in and of themselves, Lieutenant Colonel," Discord said sagely. "Trust me - we're gonna come up with something that'll be… pretty darn awesome."

"It'll be good to see Equus' armies kick the Tyrant's ass," Marcus said with a grim smile. He glanced at Elliot. "And I hope we'll be able to let 'em kick your Tyrant's ass too."

Discord's grin twitched slightly, but no one noticed. Elliot nodded, a grateful smile on his face.

"Ok," he said. "Good luck, Colonel."

"You too, Major," Marcus said with a smirk.

And with that, he walked through the portal. Discord gave Elliot a look, one the man wasn't sure how to read, and then he too walked through the portal. Finally, Doctor Hooves looked up at Elliot, who smiled at him, and then the old pony headed out through the portal too. And then, with a sound like scissors through paper, the portal vanished.

Elliot exhaled. "Right. Don't suppose you've got a bedroom and decent wifi, have you?"

"Why?" Cheerilee asked.

"Because it's been six years since I had the chance to watch YouTube," Elliot said, smirking. "I wanna see if Markiplier's still going."

***

Canterlot Palace, Year 2 Anno Harmonia - 'Downtime' Equus.

It was so much like the old Equestria that he felt the need to double-take, but at the same time he recognised the fundamental aesthetic changes. This place was different, in the same way that Derpy was different from Ditzy.

He looked around a bit at the various troops being moved into position. There was no sign of anything he would have considered 'untoward', and so he made his way to a nearby door discreetly.

"Excuse me sir," a soldier said to him, holding up a hand. "If you could remain on the premises for the moment…"

The Doctor was about to give him a look and keep walking, but then he noticed that they had left his TARDIS nearby.

"Very well," he said, smiling slightly. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I should check my TARDIS survived the transit relatively undamaged."

He walked past the soldier and into the TARDIS, the soldier barely able to hold a hand up in protest. Once inside, he checked the doors were locked, and then he flicked a few switches, before pulling the dematerialisation lever.

"Sometimes, it's too easy," he said idly.

***

Discord watched the TARDIS dematerialise and chuckled, while Marcus just sighed and shook his head.

"Should have anticipated that," he muttered.

"That's a security breach," someone said, a young-looking soldier with a shaven head.

"It's alright, trooper," Marcus said, holding up a hand. "That's just the Doctor. A Doctor, anyway. I think it's safe to say 'he does that'."

"But he doesn't look anything like Doctor Whooves," the young soldier said with a frown. "I mean -"

"It's alright, trooper," Marcus repeated. "Don't worry about it."

The soldier, apparently still uneasy but satisfied by his superior's placating words, went off to see to something else.

"Dammit," Marcus said. "I hope the Doctor doesn't cause too many problems."

"He's a Time Lord," Discord said with a shrug. "Far as I know, problems tend to follow him."

Marcus laughed. "Can say that again." He paused. "Christ, I just realised there's gonna be like three of them now."

"Maybe more before the end," Discord said with a shrug.

"That's just wonderful," Marcus said sarcastically. He sobered up. "I have no idea how I'm supposed to explain an entirely new world to Celestia - another Earth being attacked by another version of her gone mad."

"Reassure her that whatever the Celestia who became Solamina was before, chances are they were very different mares," Discord said with a shrug, his expression softening. "If I learned one thing… you should never assume you know what you're up against, just because it's wearing a familiar face."

Marcus nodded slowly, looking Discord in the eyes. "Hard won experience?"

"Is there another kind?" Discord asked quietly, looking troubled. "Anyway - tell Celly I said 'wibble' and give Luna a wedgie for me. I'm going."

"Going to find Elliot's world?" Marcus asked.

"Hopefully," Discord replied with a small grin, "I'll find more than that."

And then he disappeared.

***

Nowhere.

Q was waiting for Discord when he arrived, looking at a watch he had conjured for his human form impatiently. The watch had no hands, and it seemed to tick very irregularly, but it was a watch nonetheless. Maybe it represented something weird, like interdimensionality or something. Or maybe it was just a joke.

Q glanced up at his counterpart as he arrived, throwing him a slightly annoyed glance.

"Good," he said quickly. "You're here."

"What, did you expect me to bail?" Discord asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you think so little of me?"

"No, but I did expect you to get lost on the way," Q snarked at his counterpart, with a wink of joviality. "I'll need to sync the timelines together to make this work properly - currently they're running about a month ahead, but we should be able to fix that easily enough."

"Lay on, oh fearless Q," Discord said with a grin, making an airy hand gesture.

Q raised an eyebrow, and then snapped his fingers.

***

Scottish Archives, February 25th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

Alarms were blaring, lights were flashing, and Hell Blazer didn't like any of it. He had been going over some of his notes about the spell he had used to send Elliot to Equestria - so far, less of it made sense than he strictly liked: too many variables, too many possibilities.

He hadn't exactly taken a lot of photographs of his ritual site to be able to recall every single detail, but there had been, to his knowledge, nothing wrong with the process - he would never have put his friend into a portal if he didn't think that he had a hell of a chance of getting to wherever the hell he was going. So the fact that they had heard nothing of Elliot - except the grim proof in Sir Jason's death that he was alive - and that Solamina was also alive (if the reported buildup in her Empire was anything to go by) was nothing short of entirely disconcerting.

Still - this alarm might well come with proof of the latter. It could have been anything from an attack, to an invasion, to the alert that evacuees from the outside were entering. There was no way to know until he consulted with Rupert...

And then there he was. Giles looked like he had aged twenty years in a month, his hair grey and thinning, his eyes tired, his face lined with worry. He was clutching a pistol in one hand and a book of spells in the other, and frankly Hell Blazer figured he was likely deadly with both.

"What's the call?" the yellow Convie asked as he marched by Rupert's side.

"I don't know, John," Giles said quietly in return, throwing the pony a look. "All we know is that we had an alarm go off at the primary archive hall. We have Lyra, the Undead and a contingent of Dead Men and the entire Iron Clad contingent present inbound."

"Christ, how many is that?" Hell Blazer asked, eyes wide.

"About one hundred Paladin I, ten or eleven Paladin II," Giles said. "All of them armed to the teeth. We have Lance rifles, Hellfire coilguns, and the biggest man-portable MGs we could get on hand - they'll have to do until we've gotten the Javelin rifles are finished. There's some kinks to work out. Production's gone into overdrive since the edict from the Council came in, but it's still slower than I'd like it to be."

"Still," Hell Blazer smirked. "I'd like to see any bloody Equestrian stuff stand up to that much firepower."

"I wouldn't," Giles muttered. "I'd rather the buggers all stayed at home."

"Well since that isn't the case - what about our special cases?" Hell Blazer asked.

Giles sighed. "We haven't bothered with the GG3 - they're probably useless in this kind of situation - but Operative Gleeson is in and - she says - prepared."

"Well, we've rolled out the mat," Hell Blazer muttered. "Time to see if anypony wants to pop in."

A moment later, the two of them stepped out into the primary archive hall, a large room with a dozen or more doors leading off into different parts of the complex, each more labyrinthine than the last. Hell Blazer's eyes widened as he saw the cause of the alarm.

In the centre of the room was a large white portal, glowing and swirling with unknown energies. The Iron Clads, Knights of Albion and others, were stood around it, though none of them had brought their weapons up yet, waiting for the call from Giles and his men.

"Readings?!" Giles called to one nearby scientist.

"Through the bloody roof, mate!" the man replied in a New Zealand accent. "I don't think I ever saw anything that big on the scale before!"

"Fuck," Hell Blazer said. "Could be anything powerful - Alicorns included."

Sir Eric, standing nearby in his Paladin II armour, noted that and raised his Lance rifle, aiming it at the portal.

"Knights of Albion, Iron Clads!" he called. "The enemy is at our door! To arms!"

The Undead, the tall, pale leader of the Dead Men order, also stood nearby, his men dressed in standard battle-dress and he himself in a long trenchcoat, gas-mask and helmet. He raised a hand, and the Dead Men around him aimed their own weapons at the portal as well, each one moving swiftly and efficiently.

"The Dead walk!" the Undead called, the inbuilt transceiver and speaker allowing him to speak clearly despite the mask covering his face.

"And we have purpose!" his men called in response.

Hell Blazer sighed, and prepared to throw a fireball at the portal at the first sign of unfortunate things. Nearby, he saw Lyra - she was wearing armour of her own, though it was simple kevlar. Since Iron Clad Paladin armour had primarily been designed for human forces, there were no pony Clads yet, but if there had been, they might have been a lot like Lyra. He wondered if they'd manage to work on the driver armour for her like she'd been requesting - assuming of course that they didn't all die here in the next few minutes, but Hell Blazer tried to think optimistically.

Tried.

Nearby stood the sullen figure of Dawn Gleeson: for her, Driver armour had been easy. The thin suit - made up of nanotechnology brought by the Doctor - was covered by a series of thin plates. It was light, survivable and sturdy; everything you'd want. Gleeson herself didn't look thrilled to be wearing it, but she looked… prepared. Ish.

"What do you think?" Giles asked Blazer, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"I think you and the other non-coms should shift," Hell Blazer replied grimly. "And get Idle and the GG3 down here. We'll need everything."

"I… I see," Giles said quietly, frowning. "Right."

He motioned to the New Zealander and the other scientists, and a moment later they exited the chamber, leaving only the military personnel. Hell Blazer turned to Lyra.

"You're in charge," he called out. "What's our play?"

Lyra threw him a look, then scowled. "First thing that comes out of there gets everything we have."

"That's a plan," the Undead commented drily.

"Agreed!" Eric shouted. "We'll give them hell!"

"And if they give us hell back?" Gleeson asked drily.

"We hold the line as best we can," Lyra said grimly. "David wouldn't expect any less from us, and I'm not letting him down."

Hell Blazer nodded grimly, agreeing with that sentiment. The Undead nodded once, and Sir Eric let out a whoop as he held his Lance ready.

A moment later, the portal flickered slightly. Everyone tensed, expecting a horde of Convies to charge out and attack any moment…

… and then a man stepped out, dressed in a black suit with a red tie, looking for all the world like he was on a business trip from before the War. The only remarkable thing about him was the odd pin on his lapel, an arrowhead set atop an oval.

Almost on instinct, a few guns went off before the Undead or Eric could yell to hold fire, but though the bullets must have hit their mark, the man seemed remarkably unaffected.

"Oh," he said, smiling slightly. "Hello. I was expecting something of a welcoming committee, but I wasn't expecting quite this much, I must say."

"Who the hell are you?" Hell Blazer asked, scowling at this intruder.

"Me? I go by 'Q'," the man said idly, almost as though everything going on around him was only slightly diverting. "I believe someponies in the room might know my illustrious colleague."

A moment later, a creature stepped out of the portal and stood next to the man. It was tall, with the head of a pony, a snaggle-toothed mouth, a lion paw, dragon tail, eagle claw and a whole host of other oddities. The creature looked around, before smiling.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Discord. I've come with news about your little lost sheep."

***

Deliberation

Chapter Ten: Deliberation.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
RoyalPsycho.

Editors
The Void,

“Remember the good old days, when it was impossible to keep a secret on a ship this small?”
Tom Paris, Star Trek: Voyager - Worst Case Scenario.

Spandam: “YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! YOU MORONS CAN'T CHALLENGE THE ENTIRE WORLD AND EXPECT TO WIN!”
Luffy: “OH, YEAH?!? BRING IT OOOOOOOOOON!!!”
Monkey D. Luffy and Spandam, One Piece

***

Private office, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

All across the PHL base, rumours were flying. It was often said that you could never keep a secret in the military, and in this case it was entirely true: though there had been a certain unofficial air of secrecy concerning the armoured figure who had battled the Clone alongside the Luna and Discord of another world, it now seemed like everybody on the base had heard the story.

Besides, it would’ve been nigh-impossible to keep the truth from anyone that had been at Boston. And miracles had a way to get tongues going and lips flapping.

Personally, Cheerilee blamed Kraber. The man’s ability to keep a secret was… unreliable at best. Like that time he’d told a story about how he joined the PHL and revealed the truth behind the altogether weird crystal pony (at least, ae looked like a crystal pony) that worked in R&D...

Right now, rumours were flying about of a whole world of super-powered Knights who could challenge the Tyrant, how but a single squad of them would end the war in a week by slaying Celestia in her palace. Which, in all fairness, probably was not Kraber’s fault, but these stories had a tendency to get exaggerated a bit. Having spoken to Elliot - and seen what had happened to him after his battle with the Tyrant - Cheerilee knew such rumours were dangerous. His world was in dire straits, and expecting that world to be able to help the same way the new Equestria would was... dangerous.

She looked up as her door knocked. She smiled - fortunately, she had already figured out the best way to go forward with this problem.

A blue mare entered the room, looking around nervously before sitting down in front of Cheerilee, smiling slightly.

"Hello Lieutenant Colonel," the mare said.

"Miss True Quill," Cheerilee greeted. "I'm glad you came at such short notice."

"It's no trouble," True Quill said with a smile. "I was going to head down to Boston eventually to speak with some contacts for my article..."

"Ah, yes, I'd heard about that," Cheerilee said. "How's that coming along?"

True Quill gave a rather bittersweet smile. "There've been some... experiences. Needless to say, I'm not sure I'd want to do it all again."

"It's an important job," Cheerilee said with a smile. "Maybe more important than you realise, given the events in Boston and their implications: yours might be the voice that rallies the new Equestria into joining us. But I've got a task that's rather more important for you - an immediate priority."

She slid a file forward, the image of David Elliot on the front. To her surprise, Quill's face lit up in recognition.

"Sergeant Elliot?" she said, frowning in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You know him?" Cheerilee asked.

"He's one of the contacts in Boston I mentioned," Quill said softly. "He was moved down there in the last few hours as part of relief efforts for the city's garrisons, I was going to meet him and his squad at a bar..."

Her voice trailed off, and she frowned at the picture on the cover. "This isn't the same man. A brother? But Elliot’s an only child..."

"You're right," Cheerilee said, smiling, "it isn't. How did you know?"

"Little things," Quill said. "Grey hairs, stubble, lines here and there..."

"You know his face that well?" Cheerilee asked.

"I have an eye for detail - comes with the job," True Quill replied shortly. She glanced up. "Besides, they’ve got different looks to them. Plus he's not bad looking."

Cheerilee shrugged. "If you say so."

True Quill looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Who is this guy, then?"

"You'll have heard rumours of the 'knight' who helped Major Bauer and the Boston forces against the Queen's clone?" Cheerilee asked.

"I did hear something about that," True Quill said. She looked down at the file. "This... this Elliot? That was him?"

"He's from another world," Cheerilee said slowly. "A world more desperate than ours if what we've heard is true."

True Quill raised both eyebrows at that, clearly surprised. Cheerilee chuckled.

"I know," she said softly, finding herself unduly amused. "I found it more than a little hard to believe myself." She sobered up somewhat, her smile fading. "Still, if these stories are accurate their world is in desperate need of help... but because of his rather, shall we say, ostentatious introduction, Elliot has generated some rumours that we'll be getting help from them... when it's likely the opposite that is true." Cheerilee sighed, and her posture sagged. “Why’d this all have to happen at once?”

"I guess we're just lucky," True Quill said with a tight smile.

Cheerilee smiled back. "I guess so."

"So you want me to interview him?" Quill asked.

"The interview will be recorded and broadcast for everyone to see," Cheerilee said softly. "And people will learn the truth."

True Quill nodded slowly. "When do I start?"

***

A bar in Boston. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"#Pastel pissin' ponies, pissin' pastel piss!" three men sang, waving their beer glasses around raucously. "#If they're pissin' at you, you'd better hope they miss! If one of them hits you, give the nag a kiss! Pastel pissin' ponies, pissin' pastel piss!"

It was night in Boston, in one of the bars situated in a deserted, wrecked suburb that wasn’t quite outside the evacuation zone. People had crept back into at least this part of the city in a trickle, and one enterprising fellow had reopened up his bar to brisk business.

In this particular bar, three men and three ponies were sat in the bar, determined to at least attempt to drink their sorrows away. One of the men was dark haired and had stubble, tired brown eyes looking out at the world with some sort of resignation to an unhappy end. The man sitting next to him was blonde and clean shaven, and sounded chirpier even if he wasn't really. The last man was also blonde, with stubble and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth almost lazily. All three of them were wearing military uniforms, but each had their own personalisations: the dark haired man had two long daggers in holsters on his back, the first blonde man had at least three extra pistols on various parts of his person, and the last man was wearing, of all things, a long tan-coloured trenchcoat.

The ponies were an equally eclectic bunch. The first was a green Unicorn with scars on one side of his face, and his cutie mark was a battered kite shield. He wore a green and brown camo-pattern shirt. The second was a grey stallion with a scarred throat and a tower shield cutie mark, also wearing a camo-pattern shirt, though his was in urban camo colours. The last was a dark beech-coloured Pegasus with a short brown mane and goggles on, wearing a grey combat vest and bearing a red kite-shield cutie mark with a pair of golden wings within it.

They were singing a song they had come up with nearly a year ago, on Christmas night of 2022, not long after Kraber had staggered into the bar and met them. 'Come up with' was the best term one could apply, since the song was patently ridiculous and had been first created when most of them were drunk out of their minds.

The men finished the song raucously, the dark haired man drumming his hands on the table with a cheer. There was a moment or so of pause as they sat in silence, finishing their drinks.

"So," the trenchcoated man, John Constantine, said after a moment. "Don't suppose you guys have heard the latest rumours running around."

"Depends," the other blonde man, Sam Lake, said with a grin. "D'you mean the one where Errant Flight slept with Bright Wonder, or -"

"Piss off!" Errant Flight, the Pegasus, snapped good-naturedly. "Besides, everypony knows she's not my type. Too bubbly."

True Grit, the Unicorn, gave a smirk. "Think he means the one about the magic knight bloke who came and gave Celestia the most radical mane-cut in history."

"I'd heard that one," Flight said with a smirk. "Magic man with a big sword running around killing Newfoals like nobody's business."

The dark haired man was frowning. "Right bollocks, ain't it? Like that prank call Kraber hit me with while I was still fucking jet-lagged."

"'Prank call'?" John said, raising an eyebrow."What prank call was that, Dave?"

"Like you don't fucking know," David Elliot said with a half scowl, half smirk. "The one you, him and Errant Flight must've cooked up."

Errant raised both hooves in the air. "Don't look at me, pal, I haven't pulled a prank since Milwaukee."

There was a collective groan at the bar from everyone and everypony there.

"So it isn't a prank?" Dave asked, his expression becoming oddly serious for a drunk man.

"Nope," Errant said. "Was planning one next week, if we lived, but -"

"Oh don't fucking tell him!" John snapped. "We were gonna keep it a -" He trailed off, sighing. "Oh, never fucking mind, no point now, is there?"

"So what did Kraber say that you thought was a prank?" Sam asked.

Dave didn't answer, looking too deep in thought to speak. Before he could, however, they were interrupted.

"'Hey, fellas," the bartender, a rather surly looking man with a scruffy beard, said with a frown. "Keep it down, would ya? I'm puttin' the TV on."

The bar was blessed with having a plasma screen TV present, hung on a wall, and the bartender quickly turned it on, as though he was waiting for something.

"What's on that's got your goat?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There's meant ta be a big show interviewin' the guy who helped put the fake Tyrant down," the bartender replied. "Lettin' people know who he is, what he wants, where he came from, that sorta thing. All sorts of crazy rumours flying about, even people saying they saw Princess Luna and it’s best to settle it before it gets out of hand."

"We know," Errant said with a grin. "Man, you shoulda heard some of the crap I was hearing."

"Pile o' wank, if you ask me," John muttered. "No way the guy's really all that. It'll be like Bauer, some sort of fancy armour thing like the exoskeletons from Edge of Tomorrow. And Luna? That’ll probably be some enhancement program."

"Yeah," True Grit said. "That sounds fair."

His grey Earth Pony compatriot, a stallion named Steady Hoof, nodded emphatically. Steady Hoof had lost his vocal cords to a Royal Guard spear over a year ago, and they had yet to find a decent way of paying for his operation. "Times like this I miss the NHS," True Grit had said at the time.

The TV flared to life, and the image of a studio was broadcast, a blue mare looking at the camera with a wan smile.

"Here, that's that Quill bird who wanted to interview us," Sam said with a smile. "Who's that with her though?"

Everyone and everypony there took a moment to react with various levels of surprise as they realised exactly who was sitting opposite True Quill. The man looked older, more ragged, more world-weary, more timeworn, but it was most emphatically David Elliot.

"Oh, piss," Dave said, his eyes wide.

The bartender looked at Dave, then at the Elliot on the screen, then back to Dave.

"Your brother?" he asked.

Dave's forehead abruptly decided to have an intimate meeting with the bar. “God… dammit, Kraber.”

***

PHL base, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

This David Elliot, True Quill had to admit as she entered the makeshift studio space that had been set up, cut something of a raggedy figure. He wore a t-shirt and battered trousers, and wore riding boots that looked like they had seen better days. He was chuckling about something when Quill sat opposite him in the makeshift interview room.

"Set zose cameras up!" Photo Finish was snapping at some hapless cameramen. "I vant zis interview to go perfectly, and zat means no screwups like ze last time!"

Elliot sighed and leaned back in the comfy chair they had provided, as though the simple upholstery was a luxury. Quill found herself wondering exactly how true that was - after all, his world was supposedly 'more desperate than theirs...'

She snorted unconsciously. Despite the fact that she was trying to keep an open mind, she had great difficulty believing that. Her world had suffered so much - Celestia, the totem-proles, the Crystal war... and half this Earth was gone, the remainder under constant threat of utter obliteration and domination.

No, whatever this man had gone through, it couldn't be that bad. He seemed... sane. Normal, even, which she wouldn't have expected from a world worse off than her own.

Shaking her head, she moved to sit opposite the man.

"Ah, hello," he said when he caught sight of her. "This is all quite fancy, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Some of the best equipment we have left is here."

"And the best chairs too," Elliot said with a sigh, leaning back into the chair. "You know, they haven't made a decent sofa in three years. Funny the things you miss. Upholstery, for God's sake. You’d think we’d miss regular releases of video games, the latest tripe from Hollywood, decent food, decent internet… but no. Sofas." He lounged back slightly. "God. That is comfy."

Quill didn't reply, though she raised an eyebrow at the comment.

"So," she began. "Your name is David Elliot, correct?"

"Major David Elliot, British Defence Force," Elliot confirmed with a nod. "Also known by the rank 'Force Commander'."

Quill smiled. "Well, my name is..."

"True Quill," Elliot interrupted. "You're a reporter."

True Quill frowned - as far as she knew, this was a completely cold meeting, and Elliot had been told nothing apart from that he was being interviewed.

"Um... yes," she said. "How do you...?"

"You're a correspondent," he said easily. "Reporting from the front. In my world, that is. What is it you do here?"

True Quill found herself oddly taken aback by the man's tone. "Um... PHL. Propaganda division. I do interviews mainly, but I arrange some events, I did some of the posters..."

"Not bad," the man said, nodding slowly. "Worthy job."

Ignoring that comment (and feeling slightly patronised, all things considered), Quill motioned to Photo Finish that she was ready. The mare nodded, and a moment later the red light signalling that they were transmitting was on, casting a small but almost baleful red light over part of the makeshift studio. A camera pointed at True Quill, who settled her notes quickly and turned to it with her best smile.

"Hello, everyone and everypony," she said. "My name is True Quill. Welcome to a special interview with the individual being heralded as 'the Tyrant Slayer...'"

"That's a real thing people say?" Elliot interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

Ignoring him, Quill continued. "May I present Major David Elliot, of the 'British Defence Force'."

"Uh, hi," Elliot said, waving at the camera pointing at him, smiling awkwardly. "Forgive me if I'm a little weirded out - not actually seen a working telly transmission in five years, never been on camera. Feeling a little bit uncultured right about now."

"I'm... sure," Quill said, nonplussed. Truth be told, she felt as though she had started losing control of the interview - that was not a good feeling this early on. Taking a breath, she continued. "Major, perhaps we should begin by recounting some events our viewer may have speculated on in the short time you've been here."

"What's to speculate about?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow. "I came, I saw, I picked a fight with an Alicorn and, with a lot of help from a couple of people - well, your Major Bauer, another Alicorn and a whatever-the-hell-he-was - I managed to introduce her to the business end of my sword."

"You make it sound rather unimpressive," Quill said with a slight smile.

"It was impressive, as an event," Elliot said with a raised eyebrow. "I just wasn't all that impressive a part of it."

True Quill analysed his tone briefly - it didn't feel like false modesty.

"From all accounts, yours was the final blow," she said.

Elliot shrugged. "Discord and Luna were keeping her still enough to land it, and even then it took your Major Bauer literally jumping out of the sky and cutting her wing off, followed by Kraber and most of a city's gunfire, to slow her down so we could both manage it. It wouldn't be going out on a limb to say it could have have been done without me."

"And yet," Quill said, "it wasn't. A lot of rumours have been flying about you - PHL secret weapon, divine being..."

"Hooray for the bullshit brigade," Elliot scoffed. He put a hand to his mouth. "Ah, hell, am I allowed to swear?!"

True Quill chuckled. "Yes, you're fine to swear."

"Yay," Elliot said with a slight smile. "Let's set the record straight on one thing then - before yesterday, I'd never been on this Earth before. I'd never heard of your PHL, your Celestia, none of it."

"So that's an important point to make," Quill said. "You're from another world."

Elliot nodded. "That's right. Another Earth, with its own problems and its own Tyrant."

"What's that like?" Quill asked, feeling the question was a simple and vague one and would allow him to expand on it at his leisure.

"Shit," he replied shortly.

There was a moment's awkward pause, and Quill blinked at the succinct reply. She had been hoping for a little more from him, and she could see Photo Finish facehoofing from the corner of her eye.

"Um... elaborate?" she asked, conscious that the man's genial tone and friendly expression had been replaced by a slight coolness.

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Really shit."

True Quill coughed at that. "Um... I might need you to be a little more detailed. Our audience needs to have some idea, after all."

"Why?" Elliot asked. "Their world - your world - seems like it has the gist."

"Please?" True Quill tried.

Elliot sat forward, frowning at her, and she suddenly realised from his expression that she had touched on a sore spot for him.

"You want me to describe my world to you?" he said. "Fine."

He took a deep breath, before gesturing out at the packed pseudo-studio, full of camera equipment and people operating that equipment, even an audience of what he’d been told were randomly selected civilians. Which had been a nice move on the PHL’s part, it seemed. If the audience was full of military, people would be skeptical. But this way, people would filter out into the world, tell their neighbors what they saw.

Which meant that what he was going to say was going to screw with a lot of people. But, fuck it - this had to be said.

"D'you know what I think when I look at your world?" he asked her, looking back at her with a neutral expression.

True Quill shook her head and went for a drink of water. "What?"

"'Why the fuck are they so lucky?'" he said simply.

True Quill coughed, choking on her water and looking back at him with a scandalised expression.

"'Lucky'?" she repeated, outraged. Her opinion was shared, evidently, as the other people of the impromptu studio were staring up at him with vaguely apprehensive, disturbed, or almost angry looks.

"Look at your world," Elliot said, not the least bit abashed. "More left after the same amount of time. Better equipment. Better weapons. You've lost a lot, sure, but there's more hope here - or at least there should be, hard as that might be to hear."

"Just a bit," True Quill said, frowning.

"But there is hope here," Elliot said. "There’s more of you, more of everything you need to fight. There’s even one of me, and I doubt he’s seen half the things I did. You're fighting with a chance, odd as that must sound."

True Quill scowled at him. "I don't think that 'odd' covers it, Major. Some of our viewers might find that remark... disingenuous in the extreme, to put it mildly."

"I don’t give a damn about ingenuousness. You and your audience haven't been to my world," Elliot said coldly, looking almost as offended, but visibly straining himself to keep calm. "I come here and standard issue is some fucking sci-fi armour, guns augmented by magic and even the ponies have badass miniguns strapped to their arses. You know what standard issue for ponies in the Equestrian Resistance is on my world?"

True Quill gestured for him to elaborate.

"A khaki shirt, Kevlar armour underneath if you're lucky, and a dagger or similar bladed weapon," Elliot said.

True Quill frowned. "A... shirt and dagger? What possible good could that do?"

"They're close combat specialists," Elliot said with a shrug. "Royal Guard get up close, they keep the fuckers off the gunners."

"Don't you have guns for them?" Quill asked. The invention of guns for ponies was one of the pivotal inventions of the PHL, something that had made the war winnable in many people's minds.

Elliot chuckled, though it seemed devoid of real humour. "We invented precisely one workable gun design for the Resistance, and it's a temperamental piece of shit called the P220 that I've seen maybe six in the field of because we barely have the foundries to make them or the metals to make them from, and barely any of the equipment needed to allow them to aim them properly. Compare that to your world. Guns, armour... you look like you've got a chance. Hell, Kraber walks around with an MG2019 looking like something from Elysium -"

"You know Kraber?" Quill asked.

"Sure I do," Elliot said. "He's the first person in this world who didn't treat me like a psycho or an idiot."

"I interviewed him once," True Quill said. "I...think he told me that he thought the MG2019 looked like something from Killzone, Singularity, or Evolve - if you're wanting to reference something that is."

Elliot raised an eyebrow at her. "That's... really not the point. In my world we'd be lucky if we had one of those lying about somewhere, much less having ammo for it. I know a bloke who runs around with an M1 Garand and thinks he's lucky! We’re halfway down to flintlocks, swords, and harsh words."

"I... don't know what an M1 Garand is," True Quill said sheepishly.

"Eight-round semiauto rifle," Elliot explained tiredly. "It's pretty overpowered for close combat, if that's anything. Friend of a friend said he saw it overpenetrate four convies in the same shot, but it's just not as useful as the average M16 or what have you. And, I should add, it's about ninety years old where I'm from."

True Quill's eyes widened in shock. Ninety year old equipment… admittedly, before The Crystal War, Royal Guard equipment didn’t seem to have changed at all, but it would at least be replaced if it aged poorly enough.

"Mother of Luna," she said softly, "using equipment that ancient… how have you survived?"

Elliot smiled wanly. "When the war started there were one hundred and forty million people on the British Isles. After one year there were ninety six million. Two years was eighty million. Three was sixty three. Four was forty three. Five was twenty six. When I left at the start of the sixth year, we had fourteen."

True Quill blinked, trying to run those numbers through her head. "I don't even know how that attrition rate would work."

Elliot shrugged. "The first year was starvation, rioting, the camps, and we were getting used to fighting ponies. After that it was just constant raids and assaults. Manchester took a lot out of us. So did Coventry, Plymouth, Lancaster..." he sighed. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

True Quill frowned. "And how many casualties have the Equestrians taken?"

"Estimates have hit the billions range," Elliot said tiredly, "thanks to census information we've obtained from the Empire thanks to Resistance spies."

True Quill choked, blinking in horror. "Billions?"

"Billions," Elliot repeated with a nod. He took a deep breath, looking at his hands, which had found themselves clasped in front of him, the knuckles white from clutching. "There's... an island in the Channel Islands that we use to... to dump bodies. Convies, Guard, a couple of the Elements of Order ended up there I think..."

"Elements of Order?" Quill repeated. "You mean the Elements of Harmony? They're dead?"

"I meant 'Order'," Elliot said, looking surprisingly uncomfortable. "And that's… not important. We can only use the island for bodies when we can manage it - sometimes we just dump them in rivers or the ocean. It's... not nice. We usually manage to give our own something resembling a good burial, though. Usually."

True Quill sat back in her chair, slumped on her haunches and not entirely sure what to say.

"It's..." she began.

"Then there's equipment shortages," Elliot added, cutting her off. "I told you one guy I know uses an M1 Garand? Well, we tend to have a hodgepodge. Sure, new guns are made and ammo for them, but not enough for everyone all the time. We have to roll out the museum pieces, and oft-times we're forced to make ammo for that to tide us over til we can make an L85 or something - which actually makes the situation worse since it takes more resources to make multiple different types of ammo than it does to make one single type, but if we want guns that keep firing we have to do it. I’d say we do quality over quantity, but we sort of bounce back and forth." He chuckled, a humourless noise full of resentment. "You know, it's funny."

"What is?" True Quill asked quietly.

"If we hadn't lost so many soldiers, we might actually be worse off," Elliot clarified. "As it is, we have less troops, but the same amount of guns. If we still had the numbers we had, some of us might have been reduced to wooden spears, sharpened rocks, and harsh words. But as it is, we’re getting somewhere with guns. I even heard they were designing more stuff. Progress, right?"

True Quill shook her head, already feeling out of her depth. What this Elliot was describing was... insanity.

"Um, maybe we should move on," she said, checking her notes.

Elliot shrugged. "If you like."

True Quill looked back up at him, clearing her throat. "I was interested in asking about your abilities, they've not really been clearly described."

Elliot nodded. "I can see why they might be of interest."

"You killed a clone of the Tyrant," Quill pointed out. "To some people, that's the first really big sign of hope we've had since Lyra died."

"It wasn't all that easy," Elliot commented, looking wistful. "You know, I'd always expected fighting the Tyrant would be hard..."

"I'll ask about that in a moment," Quill promised. "I'd like to start by asking where these powers came from."

"Oh. Well that's easy enough," Elliot said. "My friend John Constantine - not that he was my friend at the time - was a magician."

True Quill raised an eyebrow. "A human magician?"

Elliot shrugged. "In my world, that sort of stuff is an underbelly. Or it was. It's kind of common knowledge now."

"I was supposed to interview a John Constantine in Boston," Quill commented, noting that point with interest. "But he's not a magician."

Elliot chuckled. "Ha. Different Constantine. Actually, he doesn't go by Constantine now. He goes by Hell Blazer."

True Quill frowned. "That sounds like a pony name."

"It is," Elliot said with a smile. "That'd be because he's a Convie."

True Quill frowned for a moment, trying to place the term.

"A Convie?" she repeated - no, that was... ah yes, she remembered: old British slang for Newfoals. "You mean he's a Newfoal?"

To her surprise, Elliot started slightly, scowling at her - as though using that term offended him.

"No way," he said harshly. "The things you have here are fucking insane. Converted might be docile fuckers, but they have brains, minds, something going on beyond 'worship Solamina, obey Solamina'. Your Newfoals are terrifying compared to that."

True Quill couldn't help but chuckle.

"Your Newfoals have minds?" she asked. The thought was... incredulous.

Elliot scowled at her. "They are called the Converted, and I'd appreciate it if you remembered the distinction. They’re actually allowed their own thoughts - though from what we can tell, there’s certain ways they’re just not allowed to think, though they seem perfectly normal most of the time. They just stop thinking when they come even close to questioning or remembering. Newfoals are proof it could be worse, I guess - that looked like a living death." He paused. "Hell Blazer though - he was stuck in that state for a minute or so, and he’s still traumatised by it, so I can’t imagine how terrible it’d be to be one of those… things. Still, Hell Blazer’s a luckier sod than most."

"How d'you mean?" Quill asked.

"In his case, he had something guarding his soul from the normal shattering damages Conversion has on it," Elliot explained. "Made it possible to fix his mind."

True Quill frowned. "Guarding his soul? What?"

Elliot nodded. "We think it was one of the demons he owes his soul to."

"Demons?" Quill repeated flatly. "...What."

Elliot chuckled. "Yeah, he owes his soul to some demons. They kind of get uppity when someone else takes their stuff. Still, here’s wishing the Tyrant Sun might’ve been a bit more grabby with what she considered hers..."

True Quill slowly put her notebook down, then her pen, as though wondering how to comprehend what she was hearing. Finally, she shook her head.

"I... have no idea how to comprehend any of this," she said. "It's... it's all insane."

Elliot raised an eyebrow, a somewhat humourless smile on his face. "Welcome to my life."

***

A bar in Boston. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

“...Sam?” Dave asked. “Have I gone insane?”

“No,” Errant Flight said, “You’re going sane in a crazy world.”

"But…” Dave said. His mouth was moving, sure, but there weren’t sounds coming out of it.

“This is a lot to take in,” True Grit said quietly. “And I mean a lot. Do you guys believe any of this?”

“I’m trying to get over the bit about me being a magician who got turned into a Newfoal,” John said softly. “That.. doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy. I… I need a moment. And a stiff drink. Hey, bartender? You got any drinks where someone froze out all the bits that aren’t alcohol?”

The bartender nodded.

“Well, then I need one. Now,” John said.

“I guess it's not all sunshine and rainbows,” Sam said quietly. “You ok, mate?”

“Yeah, fine,” John said quietly, taking cautious sips of his drink. “You know, rattled a bit. Mostly fine.”

“Hey fellas, shut up, yeah?” the barman asked. “I’m watching this.”

“Sorry,” Sam said amiably.

With no further commentary for the moment, the group continued to watch the interview.

***

PHL base, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"So, your Constantine knew magic," Quill said. "And so…?"

"And so, he summoned a power to inhabit my body and grant me the power to be the warrior humanity needed," Elliot said with a nod. "The power of Albion."

"What exactly is it?" Quill asked. "Where does it come from?"

Elliot tilted his head thoughtfully. "That's a good question. It's… part of Earth, but deeper. Older. With it, I'm not just myself - I'm the Avatar of one of the deepest powers of the Earth, able to do… more."

"What… can you do?" Quill asked, her eyebrows twisting quizzically.

Elliot paused, as though pondering the question.

"I dunno," he said softly after a moment. "I know what I have done - I've fought the Tyrant, your Tyrant. I flew, I fired balls of energy and magical blasts that did a number on her. I can also heal myself - and I could heal others: did it for Kraber. I can delve into minds and free them of the taint of Solamina, and I grappled with the thing in Newfoals' minds. But when I tried that, well, it died. That thing's the micro-manager from hell."

"What exactly is it?" True Quill asked.

"Cold, dark, and full of hatred," Elliot said simply. "Also full of itself, but with good reason. Still: it could…"

He trailed off, frowning, his eyes drifting out over the audience.

"Could what?" Quill asked.

Instead of replying, Elliot held up a hand - and suddenly, it began glowing. Quill's eyes widened… and suddenly someone in the audience began glowing too - a woman with a stump where her hand used to be. Almost certainly, she’d been a potion amputee, and hadn’t been able to afford a prosthetic or just hadn’t found the time. Everyone stared at the stump in awe as suddenly it began growing new bone, flesh and muscle… and suddenly a new hand was there, flexing oddly as the woman stared at it. She wiggled her fingers, enjoying the satisfying cracks they made.

And then Elliot started retching, blood cascading from his nose in a steady stream.

"Are you -"

"Fine! Fine, I'm fine," Elliot said, waving a hand.

"Get a medical team!" True Quill called.

"I'm fine!" Elliot protested. "This... it happens all the time when I overdo it. Cells..." he coughed. “Can’t… can’t quite handle it.”

"What… what did you do?" Quill asked, looking at the woman.

"I could sense it," Elliot replied simply.

"What?" Quill asked, frowning.

"You know their souls are touched by the power of the potion?" Elliot asked in return, indicating the woman. "Anyone who's touched by it and gets saved by amputation. I could feel it - like tendrils touching their minds." He looked over at the woman. "Bad dreams? Dark thoughts?"

"I - yes," the woman said softly. "Yes, I had those. I was afraid to sleep for awhile."

"Not anymore," Elliot said, smiling slightly as he wiped his nose off. "You're free. I can't free the Newfoals from it, that's all-but impossible - but I can free those who've been touched by that power in a lighter way. Now..." he looked over at her. “When this is over, take a long nap. You’ll thank me when you wake up feeling rejuvenated.”

True Quill looked from the woman to Elliot and back again, before sitting back on her chair, eyes wide in shock.

“Well,” said one of the cameramen, an American man with a thick handlebar mustache and a bald pate covered in burn scars. “I seem to have just seen a miracle.”

“That you did,” a cameramare said, speaking quietly. “That. You. Did.”

“But… but that’s impossible,” True Quill said softly.

“No, it isn’t,” Elliot replied. “Don’t you think you live in a world where ‘impossible’ has ceased to have any practical meaning? Don’t you think a world with anti-Alicorn guns, Tyrants and monsters, is a world that should stop questioning?” He started laughing. “I mean damn, I tore Celestia’s head apart, only after I’d been hitting her with Excalibur for a good half hour! Impossible is nothing!”

He started laughing even more, apparently unable to contain himself, and to her own surprise, True Quill laughed too.

"You know what," she said after a moment. "I think I'm starting to believe that anything's possible."

“Good,” Elliot said. “Then you’re learning.”

***

PHL base, secure location, November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

A man with a phone tapped out a number, his eyes fixed to the television screen, which had just finished showing David Elliot’s ‘miracle’. After a few moments, the phone was answered.

“Are you seeing this?” the man asked without preamble.

”If you mean the man who can regrow limbs,” the voice on the other end said, ”then yeah - seeing. Still… working on believing.”

“I’ve been keeping track,” the man said. “He’s gone through a lot of the keywords we had listed. Avatar, Solamina…”

“That, in and of itself, should not be a damning indictment,” the voice on the phone said.

The man paused. “Agreed. But it should be cause to be careful.”

The voice paused in turn. “Agreed. We shall keep watch, then. And if it turns out this man is a threat…”

“We eliminate him,” the man finished sharply. “We can’t afford more threats than we’re already facing.”

There was a long pause. ”Again. Agreed.”

The other end went dead, and the man put the receiver down.

“We eliminate him,” the man said. “If it won’t already be too late.”

***

HLF Settlement 'Bastion', Secure Location, November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

A man named Joe Rither watched what was on screen with wide eyes. Behind him were a dozen of his people, all of them as shocked as he was.

These people were the Reavers: oftentimes, they'd been described as 'the only sane people in the HLF', and while that wasn't entirely fair to the rest of the HLF, nor was it strictly accurate (or it hadn't been), it was true enough that they had been the only HLF to ever work with the PHL to any real degree. Of course, that had been the past.

Joe Rither was the man in charge of the Reavers: he hadn't always been, though. Once, a man - a great man by the name of Maximilian Yarrow - had led them. He had given them hope, led them through hell and stood firm with them against the worst things imaginable. He had shown them the path of the Valhallan, to seek glorious death in battle - to make a difference before the end, and to face it with no fear.

And he had died.

Already low on hope, their heroism ignored, their sacrifices (oh, so many good friends gone forever), their very lives threatened by a nation that saw the letters "HLF" as a condemnation worthy of immediate execution in most cases, the Reavers - all one and a half thousand of them - had retreated to Bastion, a small settlement they had founded to hide and to live, away from the PHL Yarrow had ceased to trust and the war they no longer had any part to play in. Away from those who had killed women and children and would bury the crimes forever, who would justify their own atrocities as they condemned the atrocities of others.

After one final fight, Yarrow had died, going to Valhalla in a way that none could dispute was a historic end. Joe Rither had accepted command of his despondent soldiers, and told them in no uncertain terms: even if it killed him, he would see them all through the gates of Valhalla.

But now… the rumours of the knight who killed the Tyrant were everywhere, and this Elliot - a man like and yet unlike a man Rither had spoken to once - was that man. He was more than a man, wasn't he though? He was… he was a warrior. He was a hero.

Would such a man scorn the help of the Reavers? Would such a man see the letters HLF as such a condemnation… or would he see beyond them to see the valiant few?

Joe turned to look for a face, and found it amongst those watching the broadcast. A dark haired man with a beard was looking at him.

"You're thinking it too," the man said in a strong southern English accent. "He might be a gatekeeper, holding the way to Valhalla."

Joe smiled. "You always believed more than me, John."

John Idle nodded. "And I was right to. This is it, isn't it? This is the hour we ride again."

Joe nodded slowly, a bemused smirk on his face. "It might be. Let's not get ahead of ourselves too much. Get me Munro."

John nodded and dashed off, and Joe took a breath, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Maxi, if only you’d stayed to witness our return, to witness this hour when we might have a chance to make some difference again, he thought. I hope we do you proud. I'll do my best as I always have. It’s the least I can do

***

PHL base, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

"I honestly don't know what else I can ask you," True Quill said quietly. "Except…"

Elliot sat back in his sofa, reclining slightly. "Except?"

"Have you come here to help us?" True Quill asked.

Elliot closed his eyes. He put a hand over his face.

"I didn't come here on purpose at all," he said. "And my world needs me. It needs me a lot more than you do - if I can get back, that's my duty."

True Quill nodded slowly.

"But…" Elliot continued, "I know if I can help your people in any way, I will."

True Quill inhaled. "Really?"

"Everything I can do, I will," Elliot nodded. "It'd be a real dick move to leave you in the lurch now."

True Quill nodded slowly. "I… given what we just saw, I can see why people think you're going to save us."

"People save themselves," Elliot replied slowly. "I'm just a person, too: I've been given a weapon to help win a war, just like your Marcus Renee and his runes, or Stephan Bauer and his armour. My weapons are a little more… ostentatious in some respects, but that's all they are." He smiled. "But I'm going to do what I can. Everything I can."

"But you have powers beyond anything we've seen a human being use," Quill pointed out.

"I might," Elliot shrugged. "But anyone worthy could have done what I have. Anyone can become more than they think they are. I've found some things to be a matter of faith alone."

True Quill nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mr Elliot - Major Elliot. This has been… an interesting experience."

"You're welcome," Elliot replied with a smile.

***

A bar in Boston. November 17th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

There was a long moment's pause as the program ended and everyone in the bar took a moment to reflect on what they'd just seen.

“I’m calling Kraber,” Dave sighed after a moment, pulling out his phone and standing up.

“How come?” John asked.

“Because that mad sod knew about this!” Dave replied, walking away from the bar and holding the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ja?”

Elliot growled. “How did… why’d you… I thought that was a prank!”

“How?!” Kraber asked. “I turned on facetime and everything! How could you possibly-”

“Shenanigans?” Dave asked.

Kraber sighed. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“You talkin’ to Dave?” Aegis yelled from somewhere in the background.

“Ja,” Kraber said.

“Ask him if he saw the int--”

“Did you see the interview?” Kraber interrupted. “Sorry - sorry, bru, I just really hate relaying stuff over a phone. Speakerphone time!”

“Yeah, I saw,” Dave said, and sighed. “I’m so confused.” He paused. “How are you taking this so well, anyway?”

“Life is like an issue of Nextwave,” Aegis said. “Anything can happen. You just have to learn to accept that.”

“Honestly,” Kraber said. "It really wasn’t that much of a surprise to me.”

Dave sighed. "Those fucking dreams." He paused. "Oh Christ, that's him, isn't it? The fucking knight that loony in the Reavers camp was talking about, the one I saw in my dreams."

"Yup," Kraber said.

"Fuck!" Dave swore. He paused. "Oh shit. Oh shit, it's all real, isn't it?"

"Don't worry about it," Kraber said, sounding half reassuring and half worried himself. "I don't think he's the worst one. And if that one shows up… stuff's in hand."

"'Stuff'?" Dave repeated.

"Stuff," Kraber repeated. "Anyway, enjoy your drinking. Don't get too worried - it's not like the guy'll show up to say 'hi'. Besides, if he does, I still have a contingency plan."

“..It’s a silly plan,” Aegis added.

“But it’s my best idea,” Kraber sighed. “Which is sad, I know.”

Dave shook his head. "Not what I'm worried about, but thanks."

And then the phone disconnected. Dave blinked and put it away.

He'd had dreams before, dreams of other lives. Some of those dreams had been amazing, maybe even inspiring to a degree. They’d shown him worlds where he had been able to make a real difference. Others… others had been different. Nightmarish, even. To know they were real, that they were all real…

"Fuck it," he swore. "I'm getting pissed. Bartender, give me something that won’t let me feel my face.”

***

Scottish Archives, February 25th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

The Council were sat in session as the two figures - the normal looking man and the Draconequus - walked into the room. The Draconequus looked bored, and the man looked... tired.

It was Anderson who spoke first. "So, Discord and... Q, was it?"

"That's correct," the suited man said with a tight smile.

"You claimed to have news of our 'lost sheep'," the Australian general said quietly. "I assume - though it's not an assumption we're making widely known - that you're talking about Major Elliot."

"Guy with magic sword and a habit of talking like ye olde English?" Discord asked.

"… yes," Anderson said with a grimace. "I'm sure you'll understand why we're… just a tiny bit suspicious of that."

"Just a tiny bit," Discord repeated. "Hey, at least you haven't shot me up yet, which is one up on the other guys."

"The thought had crossed some minds," Prince Blueblood said with a scowl. "And trust me, we've some weapons we're itching to test."

Discord scowled in return at the Prince. "Why in the name of all that's good and chaotic in the world is that little plotwipe here?"

"That 'little plotwipe'," General Anderson said, narrowing his eyes, "is the Prince of the Equestrian Government in Exile. A little respect might be due for that."

"He is?" Discord said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea how bad an idea that is? He'll -"

Q coughed, and Discord threw him a look.

"What?" he asked.

"This isn't your world," Q said quietly. "Try to remember that not every Equestria has your history. I'd have thought I was proof enough of that."

Discord scowled, then sighed. "Fine. Sorry, Prince Bluenose."

Blueblood said nothing, simply raising his eyebrow with a slight smirk.

"So," Anderson continued. "Elliot. News."

"You're obviously aware that he was sent to another world," Q said briskly. "Your little spell-caster's intention was to send him to fight Empress Solamina. A… bold plan."

"If utterly stupid," Discord added. "One man against a Tyrant? I've seen Elliot fight, and that knight-boy gig he pulls out isn't levelled up enough - not for our Celestia or your… Solamina." He sounded disturbed even saying the name. "He really needs to go dungeon crawling more. Maybe grind a bit, and spec into other skill trees... that or use a gameshark."

Anderson shared a glance with Mr Sato, who shrugged, and with Blueblood, who was shaking his head with an amused grin. He looked back to Q and Discord. The former was rolling his eyes at the latter’s humour.

"So he's alive," Anderson reiterated quietly.

"Yeah," Discord said. "Alive and fresh out of a coma, having decided that apparently no holiday to a parallel Earth is complete without taking on an Alicorn Tyrant in hand to hoof combat and - with a little help from yours truly and some others - killing her.”

The Council exchanged glances of surprise and wonder.

“He killed a Tyrant?” Blueblood asked.

“More properly, he killed a clone of the Tyrant,” Discord said. “Quite brutally, I might add. Ripped her head apart with his bare hands.”

Sato threw Anderson a glance, and Anderson leant back in his chair, eyes wide.

“Well,” he said softly, “I… don’t know how to react to that. At all.”

“I’m still having trouble understanding how there can be another world out there, with its own Tyrant,” Blueblood said. “It’s… just a bit out there.”

“Out there or not, it’s your reality,” Q said softly.

“So,” Anderson said, frowning at the two chaos-entities. “If this is true, why are you two here?”

“I would have thought that would be obvious,” Discord said with a smirk. “We’re here to help you get knight-boy back.”

“And, while we’re at it, foster communication with the parallel Earth,” Q added.

“And what good will that do us?” Anderson asked with a frown. "If this other world's in as much shit as we are…"

“You mean apart from a world with more troops, more resources, better guns and better technology, including weapons specifically designed to put an Alicorn down for good?” Discord asked sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t see how it could help at all.”

The Council members exchanged glances, none of them looking nearly as happy at that pronouncement as Discord might have expected.

“You’ll forgive us, Lord Discord,” Sato said, speaking first, his tone one of polite uncertainty, “but we have had precious few pieces of positive news during this war - Elliot's own ascension to the position of 'Avatar of Albion' notwithstanding. For you to come now with this information…”

“It’s a stretch to believe, I know,” Q said, throwing his counterpart a look. “I’d be more than a little suspicious about it myself if I were you. But it is the truth.”

“There might be some world with super-weapons,” Anderson said darkly, “but don’t pretend that you’ve got any authority to make wild promises about them helping us with them.”

Discord opened his mouth to make a scathing comment about Anderson’s obvious trust issues, but Q cut him off with a warning look.

“Look,” Q said, “you’re right - we can’t make any promises. But we can get you a fair hearing from these people.”

“Can you?” Anderson asked, clearly doubtful.

“They owe me a favour, at least,” Discord said, shrugging. “I did help put down that clone, too.”

The Council sat in silence for a moment, exchanging glances as they tried to decide whether this could be trusted. Anderson looked entirely unhappy with the whole thing, as though he suspected it was a trap. Sato didn’t look any happier with it, neither did Blueblood.

All the same… did they really have a choice?

“We’ll… have to deliberate this further,” Anderson said softly. “In the meantime…”

“In the meantime,” Discord said, “I fancy going around and having a look-see at this world of yours, see what’s different.”

“That presents a significant security risk,” Blueblood said with a frown.

“I wasn’t asking permission, Bluenose,” Discord sneered. And with that, he had vanished. Q sighed.

“I don’t know about you fellas,” he said, “but I happen to think I have far more class.”

***

Canterlot, February 25th, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - ‘Solaminan’ Equus.

You are strapped to the bed, as much - so they told you - for your own safety as for the safety of others.

The first thing you feel - though the last thing you'd admit to - is fear.

You shouldn't fear - fear is something for those who have not been chosen for a great honour by High Commander Twilight Sparkle herself. Fear is something for those who have not been granted the greatest gift in history. Fear is not something you should be feeling, given the fact that you are among the most blessed ponies in the entirety of Equestria right now.

All the same… this isn't exactly a situation conducive to feelings of wellness or relaxation. In fact despite your best efforts to remind yourself of your good fortune you feel rather nervous, terrified even. A small but loud part of you is even trying to tell the rest of you to flee, to get away and never come back.

Still, you ignore that part of you. You remember, you volunteered for this - when the call came, you answered without hesitation.

"Captain?" a voice asks, and you turn to see High Commander Twilight Sparkle herself staring at you, a smile on her face. "Are you prepared?"

And you try not to hesitate when you speak.

"Yes."

“Good,” Sparkle says. She pulls out a vial of orange liquid. “I hope this doesn’t hurt too much.”

She puts the vial to your mouth, and you drink, closing your eyes at the sudden, burning pain...

... only to find your eyes opening. You are in the middle of a field, alone. It is unremarkable - plain grass, green and untarnished, seemingly stretching on, flat and featureless, forever, further than the eye can see.

What?

You do not understand why you are here. You do not understand what this place is. You do not know…

… you do not know anything. You do not remember who you are: not your name, your history… nothing.

"Who am I?" you say aloud, as though expecting the words to have meaning here.

A voice, familiar and yet not so, answers. My name is Moondancer, Captain of the Solaminan Guard.

But none of those words mean anything - they are dust in the wind, to be discarded and ignored.

Why are you here? a voice asks suddenly, echoing through you, around you - it is part of you and separate from you, all at once.

"I…" you begin, but you have no answer.

Are you here to serve? the voice asks. To fight?

"Yes!" you call out desperately. You remember that - that is why you’re here - and it feels right! "I've come to… to fight! To fight for… for…"

For what? Why do you choose to fight?

A memory comes unbidden.

Why are you a Guard, Daddy?

Because there are a lot of griffons and dragons and moles and other creatures out beyond the borders of Equestria who don't like ponies very much. And ponies like me stand between them and little fillies like you. So I fight for Monarch and Realm, to keep little fillies like you safe.

"For Monarch and Realm," you answer - it is truth, it is right, it is part of you in a way you cannot fathom. "I’ve come to fight for Monarch and Realm, to defend my people from their enemies!"

There is a silence, and you are suddenly seized by fear, terror even. Have you said the wrong thing? Have you angered the voice? Will it deny you the right to fight for what you believe in?

Very well then, it finally says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You have come here a supplicant. You shall leave here as a weapon, a commander, the guiding hoof of armies. You are not Moondancer.

No, of course you aren’t. How could you be? Moondancer is not you. Moondancer was never you. That weak mare with her past and her failings and all the pain she felt is one you abandon wholeheartedly.

You are the first of your kind. You are Centuria, commander, warrior, the tip of the spear, the right hoof of Solamina.

You kneel, accepting the words without question - they are the truth. They are your truth - the only truth you will ever need.

"I am Centuria," you repeat. "I am the tip of the spear, the right hoof of Solamina."

You are the weapon by which the Empress’ enemies will fall.

“I am a weapon.”

You are the means of deliverance for the lost.

“I am deliverance.”

You feel no fear except one.

“I fear to fail my Empress.”

You have no love but one.

“I love my Empress and her Empire.”

You know no joy but one.

“I know the joy of eternal service, until death.”

And the voice is pleased.

And now, it says, Centuria, tip of the spear, blade of Solamina, you will awake.

And your eyes open. Commander Sparkle - leader, superior officer, Element of Magic, chosen of Solamina - is looking at you with wide eyes.

“Captain?” she asks.

You shake your head, and you kneel before her.

“I am Centuria, first of the Empress’ chosen, tip of the spear,” you say humbly. “Show me my foe so that I may destroy them, Commander.”

And Sparkle smiles, and you know in your newly emboldened heart that you have done well.

***

Scottish Archives, February 25th, 2030 - ‘Avatar’ Earth.

“Discord is here?” Vinyl Scratch said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

The DJ was on FaceTime again - Lyra had felt the need to keep her updated, though this time, Hell Blazer was also in on the conversation. Vinyl, thank the Pony God, had the good sense to not mention the previous conversation she'd had with Lyra a few days ago.

“Uh huh,” Hell Blazer said with a smirk. “You know, I think Lyra had the same reaction.”

“Buck off,” Lyra said in a polite tone. “Anyway - we thought we’d let you know.”

”Yeah, ‘preciate it,” Vinyl said. “It’s weird hearing Tavi’s voice on Resistance FM these days - she talks about the buildup, and she sounds… scared, you know?”

“Yeah,” Lyra said softly. “We know.”

"Makes me wish I was with her - more than usual, I mean," Vinyl added, looking morose

"We'll get you to her one day," Lyra promised.

The DJ gave a warm smile, one Lyra returned. She knew how Vinyl felt, perhaps better than the DJ could have realised…

“So what do you think he’s there for?” Vinyl asked, changing the subject quickly. “Come to end Solamina with one snap of a talon?”

“Would that it were so easy,” a new voice said. Lyra jumped, and turned, to see the suited man - Q - standing behind her, a smirk on his face.

“Can you not do that, please?” she asked, sounding tetchy. “I don’t trust you as is, I don’t need you trying to give me a heart attack.”

“Not that I could, given your… additions,” Q said, smirking as he looked her over. “I thought I’d come see ‘what’s up’, as the hip ponies put it.”

“Take it from me, the ‘hip’ ponies ain’t doin’ anything of the sort,” Vinyl said with a smirk.

“Aw, and here I thought I would get down wiv da yoof as the British put it,” Q sad with a mock sad face. “So - whatcha doin’?”

“Talking,” Hell Blazer said with a frown. “Unless you want to piss off?”

“Not really,” Q admitted. “But if you insist… I just thought you might appreciate some information about your precious David Elliot…”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “David?! Where is he?! What do you know?!”

Q smirked. “Oh, now you’re interested.”

“What are you talking about, you plotwipe?” Vinyl said with a frown.

Q frowned at her. “Look, I’m sure being down there is all well and good, but I don’t like talking to a screen.”

In a sudden flash of light, Vinyl Scratch was standing there, looking at once shocked and amazed.

“Whoa,” she said softly.

“Yes, ‘whoa’,” Q said drolly. “Anyway - what did you think ‘little lost sheep’ meant?”

“Could have meant anything, knowing Discord,” Lyra said, scowling.

“Really?” Q asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, somepony needs to have a little more faith.”

“Excuse us for not trusting the two weirdos who decide to open a portal to the single most secure location in Britain,” Hell Blazer said scathingly. “It’s almost like you were doing something bound to make us suspicious or something.”

Q smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s… true, I suppose.”

"Hey," Hell Blazer said, frowning. "Where's your mate gone?"

Q shrugged. "'Somewhere else', I believe is the appropriate term."

***

London, February 25th, 2030 - ‘Avatar’ Earth.

Discord, the size of a robin, stood looking over the ruins of the city of London, a small frown on his face.

This city… the devastation here made Boston look like it had just had a spring clean, and this place, so he understood it, had never been subject to the tender mercies of an Alicorn. He could see the hazmat-suited forms of soldiers patrolling through the city, their weapons a hodgepodge - there were fairly advanced looking guns, similar to the sort he’d seen before, but there were also guns that looked old and battered, makeshift even. It looked as though every gun serviceable had been grabbed and put in someone’s hands.

The ponies wandering around looked even less well equipped - one or two had bulky, odd looking contraptions that were frankly archaic in comparison to the PHL’s weaponry. Most, however, just had daggers and simple, lightly armoured vests on. It was like looking at a militia. Heck, it was like looking at a post-apocalyptic world.

Well, it kinda is. And yet somehow, these are the people who’ve held off against this ‘Solaminan Empire’, he thought with disbelief. I dunno how they do it.

He snapped a claw, and suddenly he was on the street, invisible, looking at the soldiers as they built new barricades to replace the old. Some of them - soldiers in grey fatigues with little bits of plate armour strapped to them - gave off a weird vibe, one that felt oddly familiar.

He shook his head. He’d seen enough. Enough to find himself wondering just how these people could ever hope to help the other Earth he’d seen - and frankly enough to wonder how these people could be helped.

***

Scottish Archives, February 25th, 2030 - ‘Avatar’ Earth.

When General Anderson came to Sir Eric’s room, Eric knew immediately that something was afoot. The General’s presence in and of itself was a sign that there was more at work than the usual mission.

“Sir Eric,” the General said softly, nodding respectfully. “How goes the training of the Iron Clads?”

“We have a full two hundred soldiers ready and able to fight,” Eric replied at once. “I would stake my life on their worth, sir.”

Anderson smiled tightly. Eric had often found Anderson to be a little… disbelieving of the abilities of the knights of Albion. He couldn’t necessarily blame him - before he had felt the touch of Excalibur, he could never have dreamed that he could be what he was today.

“Good,” the General said. “We have news. Important news.”

Eric tensed, eyes wide. “Sir?”

“Confirmation has come that David Elliot is alive,” Anderson said softly. “He was transported to another world, one facing a similar conflict to our own. We’ve been contacted by… representatives of that world, and after some deliberation… and disagreement… we’ve decided that the best course of action is to send a contingent to support Elliot in his efforts there. This is top secret - you cannot divulge this outside of the mission team you assemble.”

“Mission team?” Eric repeated. “How many soldiers am I bringing?”

“I want a Clad contingent, volunteer only, as many as will go with you,” Anderson said. “I’ll be honest - I was hesitant about this mission. The other two members of the council are more inclined to trust these… representatives... than I am. They’ll be meeting with them shortly to relay our decision. I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t one big trap…”

“But if it is,” Eric said holding up a hand, “my soldiers are willing to face it head on. Say no more, General. I will assemble my force. Where and when?”

“Main lobby, March 1st, zero eight hundred,” Anderson said. “Make it clear that this is likely a one-way trip.”

“I will be crystal clear,” Eric replied. “You’ll have your Clad contingent, sir.”

Anderson nodded and left, and Eric began compiling a list of those he could trust to follow him into a mission into almost certain death. He quickly amended that into ‘a short list’ - most of his troops would follow him into certain death without questioning it, but he couldn’t take all of them. He needed to pick a small number, no more than thirty.

He sighed, and began thinking.

***

The Undead ran his hands through his hair as he walked through the corridors of the Archives, thinking back to the battle of London - the last place where Elliot had been. It was strange that so much had hinged on that battle, so hopeless as it had seemed: his brothers and sisters in walking death had been forced to abandon every other position they had held in the city prior to the last attack, and had holed themselves up in St Paul's Cathedral. Many of them were still there all these months later and had made themselves a common sight in the city centre since then. The Undead had, however, ordered some of his best to join him up at the Archives to help in guarding the special projects that were currently underway.

It was strange really - the lull was different to any other brief pause in the war that he had ever known, and up until now he hadn’t understood how it could have happened (though it didn’t really affect the performance of his duties significantly). Still - now he knew. Elliot was alive, and there was another war, more duties to fulfill.

That did, however, leave him with a small dilemma. It was only right, as the leader of his proud organisation, to lead his brothers and sisters in the new front that had been opened up. On the other hand that left him with the problem of choosing who would take command of the various contingents that had been ordered to stay behind.

He had thought long and hard over who would serve as the best candidate and had finally narrowed his choices down to who he thought was the best option.

He stepped out of the Archives’ interior and out into an open compound. The area was underground as well, access granted through a large tunnel that was built into the wall across from him. Vehicles of every type were moving back and forth in a continuous stream of traffic, bringing supplies, soldiers and news constantly.

The Undead stopped and stood by the door, waiting for a particular vehicle to arrive.

An old combat jeep, its black custom paint scratched and battered, rolled into the vehicle compound and came to a stop in the designated parking space. A door opened and out stepped several figures. They were all in Dead Man uniform, three men, one woman and a young girl.

Only one of the men had the Undead’s full attention. He was an older man, with dark cropped hair that was rapidly greying and aged lines over his face. The cut of his uniform suggested he had a broad build that didn’t yet look like it was threatening to go to fat and his bearing was confident and strong despite his age. The Undead would always recognise Joseph “Old Joe” Rither, the man responsible for the Dead Men becoming the organised fighting force they were today.

The group of Dead Men all walked over to the Undead the moment they saw him. Stopping a few paces away from him they all stood straight at attention and saluted. The Undead did the same in return.

“At ease,” he said in a professional tone. The group all relaxed, the young girl slouching more than the others. Having gotten the required professional pleasantries out of the way the Undead settled to tell them the news. “As you all know we have been called to conduct a highly secretive and specialised mission. I myself have been requested for this escapade and I fully intend to perform my duties as they’ve been given to me.” The Undead took another breath studying the expressions of his subordinates. “Of course, this presents the problem of deciding who performs my own duties to you while I am gone. I have, after careful deliberation, decided that Commander Joseph Rither will serve as my replacement until either my mission is complete or I have gone to rejoin my soul in death.”

The group were somewhat surprised by their leader’s proclamation. Several blinked in confusion as the Undead’s words registered and the young girl cocked her head slightly as she contemplated the declaration. None of them had known about any secret missions, just the reallocation of various forces. Now their leader was going away somewhere and Joe was supposed to take his place.

"If I may, sir, I do not believe I am well suited to the task," Joe said quietly.

"No, but I do," the Undead replied. "You're the best man I have, Joseph. I trust you."

The older man considered this, the Undead had heard him constantly reject the idea of higher leadership. His reasons had always been his own but now, now he had a greater duty and like every Dead Man he would be expected to disregard his own desires in the name of humanity and the realm. After several more seconds, Joe finally nodding, looking resigned.

“It would be an honour, sir,” Joe replied, saluting once again.

“Excellent,” the Undead said, his lips curling in a small smile. He always knew he could count on the older man to take charge when he was needed.

“Can I ask what this mission is?” Joe asked.

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I did know anything,” the Undead shrugged. “They barely even gave us guidelines: ‘Take your best men, be prepared’. But the orders come from the very top, after all.”

"Very well, sir," Joe said quietly. "Good luck."

The Undead nodded. "I imagine I'll need it. For all we know, this is a trap." He grinned. "That, at least, promises some excitement."

***

When Discord had returned he had been mostly silent, and the two of them had mostly paced since then. Q was capable of patience when he needed to be - after all, he had had to wait for millennia for the ponies of his Equestria to… well, in any case, he hadn’t expected the same dedication from his other self. Surprisingly, though, the other him seemed to have been surprisingly amenable to such patience. Maybe he was used to waiting too, or maybe - though Q doubted it - he had realised just what a serious situation they had been landed in. Two Tyrants… was not a fun idea, no matter how crazy you were.

When Blueblood and Sato exited the council chambers shortly thereafter, they looked resolute. Rupert Giles was with them, looking frustrated.

"So," Q asked. "Have you come to a decision?"

"We have," Blueblood said quietly.

“We have decided to trust you,” Sato said. “To a degree.”

“A ‘degree’?” Discord repeated. “Want to explain how that works?”

“We’re sending you back to you world with what we’ll call... a diplomatic envoy,” Blueblood said.

“Why do I get the feeling that ‘diplomatic envoy’ is a euphemism?” Discord asked.

Blueblood smirked. “It isn’t - not really. But we’ll be sending a contingent of our forces through. If the situation is a dire as you describe, I get the feeling they’ll be needed.”

"It will be a message of peace and a show of tacit support," Sato said amiably. "One we hope to be repeated by the government on the other side."

"And if this is some kind of trap, they will obviously be in a position to make you bleed for it," Blueblood added, a slight edge to his voice. "And they will."

Discord scoffed. Blueblood fixed him with a glare.

"Look," Discord said. "I've seen your world, pal. It's in a state that, in no two ways, is laughable. I have no idea how you're all still alive, and frankly I have no idea how you purport to kill Celly - or Solamina - with guns that look like they'd fall apart if I sneezed at them."

Sato glanced at Giles, who looked at him and then nodded. He looked at Discord.

"Carcerem," he said softly.

Discord raised an eyebrow, and tried to bring his arm up to turn the man into a frog - and he found he couldn't move. He looked down at himself - there was no outward change. He looked at Q, who shrugged, then at Giles.

"Need more demonstration?" Blueblood asked.

Discord growled. A moment (and a flex of magical power) later, whatever spell had been holding him was broken. He raised his claw -

"Poena!" Giles snapped, and Discord steppedbackagonyshootingthroughhisbodyashefeltlikehisnerveswereonfire…

And then it was over. Breathing heavily, irritated, Discord growled at Giles, glaring at him in hatred.

"Don't threaten my people, Mr Discord," Blueblood said quietly. "You'll find that while our guns 'look like they'd fall apart if you sneezed at them', we have far more than just guns: and even our guns are getting a lot better than we've let you see."

Discord looked up at Q, who was smirking.

"This is funny?!" he asked.

"Of course it's funny," Q said, sounding like he was struggling to hold in a laugh. "You judged a book by a shabby cover, and it bit you because it's the Monster book of Monsters. That's hilarious."

"In any case," Blueblood continued. "We'll be sending the team through, and you're going with them. Is that acceptable?"

"If it wasn't, would that stop you?" Discord asked sarcastically.

"It is always good," Mr Sato said with a smirk, "to ask."

***

Hanger 17, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 18th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

When the portal event began, almost every soldier in the facility had been mobilised. The swirling vortex in the middle of hangar 17 was similar to the one that had heralded Marcus’ return, but there were subtle differences.

For one thing, it had come into existence entirely spontaneously.

Cheerilee was watching the portal with narrowed eyes. Nearby, Kraber had the MG2023 aimed at the portal, a mad grin on his face. Aegis was next to him, his assault saddle’s two F3-Thunderlords at the ready. Around them, other troops had their rifles at the ready, none of them feeling entirely comfortable.

“Doctor?” Cheerilee asked Doctor Whooves, who was stood nearby. “What are we looking at?”

The stallion had his sonic screwdriver aimed at the portal, and he looked at the little device with a confused frown. Honestly, Cheerilee was never sure how he got results from the thing. She’d learned simply to not ask.

“The thaumic signature is… not what one would expect from a Solar Empire portal,” the Doctor said after a moment. “In faaaact…” He raised an eyebrow. “It's nonexistent."

"Pardon?" Cheerilee asked.

The Doctor frowned. "This isn’t a portal based on thaumic energy at all.”

“What?!” Cheerilee asked. “How is that possible?!”

“I dunno,” the Doctor said, grinning as he scanned some more. “Oh… oh, that is brilliant! This is more like a common-or-garden wormhole. Pure science, none of the confusing little salmagundi you PHL seem to love! Oh, it has been too long!”

“Fascinating as I’m sure it is,” Aegis said, “shouldn’t we be worried about what’s gonna come out of it?”

“Well, it won’t be Newfoals,” the Doctor said confidently. His smile faded. “Could be aliens.”

“Aliens?” Cheerilee repeated, blinking. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope,” the Doctor said. “Daleks, Cybermen, Osirans, space vampires… could be Cthulhu.”

“What?!” Cheerilee yelled.

"Oh yeah," the Doctor said. "Cthulhu, Azathoth, Ug-Qualtoth, Ghatanothoa, Yig… Albert, Fred the mildly miffed, Dave the Smelly…"

"You're joking," Cheerilee said flatly.

"About Yig, yes," the Doctor said. "About Dave the Smelly, no. Worst Golgothan ever. Bad weekend."

Kraber guffawed. “#Look to the sky, way up on high, there in the night stars are now right. Eons have passed: now then at last, prison walls break, Old Ones awake!”

“Not helping Viktor,” Aegis said softly.

“And yet,” Kraber said, “it was still funny?” He smirked. “Fok it. Whatever it is, I’mma bliksem it-”

“Please don’t!” a voice called from out of the portal. “I’d rather not be… ‘bliksemmed’ today!”

“I was gonna say if it attacked!” Kraber protested to the voice as the rest of the group aimed their weapons at it.

“Sure you were,” Aegis sighed, a bit jokingly, though the voice had unnerved him.

“Hey, the last visitor was nice,” Kraber pointed out. “I’m gonna reserve judgment.”

A moment later, Discord stepped out of the portal, looking slightly sheepish. It wasn’t, however, quite the same Discord - he had a giant letter ‘Q’ printed on the front of his body, and he grinned slightly as he looked around.

“Well, this is fancy,” he said. “Lots of guns. Nice and human.”

“Hey!” a pony called.

“What? Humans like weapons, especially American humans,” the new Discord said. “And this place is full of them.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Kraber said, brandishing the MG2023. "And I'm South African."

“Case in point, though,” the new Discord said with a smirk as he pointed at the MG2023. “Anyway - I’ve come with a special delivery for a Mr David Elliot? You might know him - big guy, armour, giant sword, kills Alicorns…”

“What do you want him for?” Kraber asked, frowning.

“I don’t want him, but it’d be a poor show on my part if he wasn’t here,” the new Discord said. “And the people who’ll be stepping through won’t like him not being here… and them not liking it might make things messy. First impressions are everything, after all.” He looked over at Kraber. “Wait. You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

“I don’t know,” Kraber shrugged. “Maybe?”

Cheerilee looked at Kraber. “Go get Elliot. We’ve got this.”

“I’d kinda prefer to stay and keep my gun trained on this fokker,” Kraber said, indicating the new Discord, who raised an eyebrow.

“Just go,” Aegis said tiredly.

Kraber looked uncertain. "You sure?"

"Yup," Aegis said. "We got this."

"They don't," the new Discord said unhelpfully. "But if they want to think so…"

“Just don’t go completely crazy without me, Viktor,” Aegis said, growling slightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bru,” Kraber replied with a grin, and with that he jogged out of the hangar.

***

Elliot looked up from his chair when Kraber entered, MG2023 in his hand. Elliot frowned the minute he saw that - Kraber being armed almost certainly meant that something was up.

“We’ve got a problem in Hangar 17,” Kraber said softly. “Of the ‘we might need a big sword’ kind.”

“What kind of problem is that?” Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The ‘a guy who looks like Discord just came claiming he’s bringing a special delivery for you’ kind of problem,” Kraber said with a grin. “Come on - this could be fun. Or maybe the end of the world - one or the other.”

With that he headed out, and Elliot, grabbing his military coat and ‘speed-killer’, followed him.

Elliot raised an eyebrow as they strode down the corridor. “You sound oddly enthusiastic about the end of the world.”

“Yoh, fok nae,” Kraber said. “But speaking of that, I knew a few guys who’d have loved to see the end of the world. They’d have thought it was the best fight ever... Besides. If it’s what I’m afraid it is, we’re all fokked up the poes. More than usual.”

He said that without his expression having changed at all.

***

Discord - the new Discord - was still standing by the portal when they got there, looking impatient. Elliot flexed a fist as he approached the figure, Kraber moving back to his firing position.

The new Discord looked down at him, an appraising light in his eye.

“So you’re the Avatar,” he said simply. “I must say, you’re a little taller than I thought you’d be.”

“And you’re… what? Another Discord?” Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s with the ‘Q’?”

“It’s my name,” this Discord said. “You could call me it, if you like. Or DisQord if you prefer: humans love their silly names, don't they? They did last time I spent any real time with them.”

Elliot winced at the tortured pronunciation. “Why would we call you that?”

“Well for one thing,” another voice - Discord’s voice - said, “it’ll make life easier if we can differentiate.”

Another Discord - presumably the one Elliot had already met - popped his head out of the portal. “They’re getting antsy over here, we set?”

DisQord looked at him, smirking. “Yup.” He looked at Elliot. “You might wanna step back, some people are coming through.”

Elliot frowned, and did so, wondering what was going to happen. “Who?”

“Why, your friends,” DisQord said. “This world’s Discord found your world, and I told him I’d help out.”

Elliot’s eyes widened. “You mean -”

“I mean your world’s Council got together a little expedition to come through,” DisQord said with a wink. He stood next to Elliot, looking at the portal.

“So hang on,” Cheerilee said, trotting up to stand at DisQord’s side. “You’re telling me that there’s a diplomatic envoy coming?”

“One with an escort,” DisQord said. “Somehow, they thought myself and my learned colleague were fibbing a bit.”

“Couldn’t possibly imagine why,” Cheerilee muttered, straightening up. “It’s not like you’re the Lord of lies and chaos or something.”

DisQord shushed her and concentrated on the portal. Elliot looked down at Cheerilee, who shrugged, and then he looked back at the portal himself. Suddenly he was faced with the idea of his people coming through the portal. How would they react to this world? How would this world react to them?

"What can we expect?" Cheerilee asked quietly.

Elliot glanced down at her. "Couldn't tell you. We've never had to send a diplomatic envoy before. Everyone else is much too dead to have an embassy." He smiled a little sheepishly. "Don't expect them to look their best though. The BDF can be… ratty."

Cheerilee nodded, smirking slightly. "Duly noted."

Elliot straightened up slightly, trying to look his best and keep an air of martial pride. He was perhaps more than a little aware that he was surrounded by troopers in top-notch gear with advanced weapons: when the brave, proud and slightly battered BDF sent forces through, they'd look hopelessly under-equipped by comparison.

DisQord, standing next to him, smiled at him, a knowing glint in his eye. Elliot frowned slightly.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," the Draconequus said with a smirk. "Just wondering what you'll make of this."

There was a pause, and then the other Discord stepped through. With a slightly theatrical air about him, he bowed.

“Presenting the forces of the British Defence Force,” he said, his voice taking on a haughty faux-British accent.

A moment later, two small, four-legged figures stepped through. One, an Earth Pony stallion, wore a tan trenchcoat, and had a sour expression on, not helped by the cigarette he was smoking. His trenchcoat didn't quite cover the cutie mark on his flank displaying the number 666. The other…

The other was a Unicorn mare, her coat minty-green edging towards turquoise. One eye glinted slightly with metal, and there were implants bolted along her barrel and into her legs, but the white and green mane was unmistakable, as was the lyre cutie mark.

Elliot’s eyes widened in shock. “Lyra?”

Next to him, Cheerilee looked - well, that was the thing. ‘Surprised’ didn't even begin to cover it. She looked like she'd seen Jesus’ ghost.

“...Son of a fuck,” Aegis breathed, and he looked like he had trouble standing up. “It’s… her. It’s really, really her. I missed her so much!”

“Eish” Kraber said. “Looks like I have some -” The look of utter, crushing anguish on his face, the tears welling up in his eyes, the pure regret, could have shattered the heart of the most stoic Dead Man. He caught himself, through there was a slight waver in his voice. “- apologies to make,” he finished, looking a little downcast. “Missing the appointment is probably the least of them.”

All over the room, ponies, humans, minotaurs, diamond dogs, griffons, even zebras, all of them were excitedly whispering among themselves. Some were kowtowing, bowing reverently. One woman with a long, jagged scar over her left eye was holding up a hammered-metal necklace shaped into the simplistic lyre-shape of Lyra’s cutie mark.

One Diamond Dog, an anthropomorphic shape vaguely resembling either a Lapphund or a border collie with dark blue-gray-black patches of fur where Elliot would have expected to see black, knelt down on one knee, as if accepting a knighthood from one of the Knights of Albion, as had several others.

“Easy,” Elliot said. “It’s… not your Lyra. And...” he looked around. “What’re all these people doing?” he asked.

“Plenty of us… well, hold Lyra in high regard,” Aegis explained. He adjusted his bandanna a little, showing a network of scars and burnt flesh under the red scrap of cloth. “I took the brunt of a car-bombing meant for her, once. There’s people calling me ‘The Shield’ like I was one of the apostles.”

“Apostles,” Elliot said, wonderingly. “Guess we’re not all that different in some ways. Is it… is it as religious as I think it is?”

Aegis nodded.

“And a lot of us call her Saint Lyra,” Kraber added.

“Do you…” Elliot asked, not sure how to ask the odd question.

“Nah. Still Ashkenazi Jewish,” Kraber said. “Maybe like my counterpart. Here’s hoping he still has a bit of the faith, being a Dead Man sounds draining. Personally, I’m thinking she’s a tzaddik.”

The mare - Lyra - blinked slightly, as though her eyes were adjusting to the light, and then her eyes aligned upon Elliot, widening. Before anyone could do anything, she was charging at him, knocking him to the floor with an improbably strong bearhug.

“David!” she yelled, sounding more relieved and excited than he thought he had ever heard her. “OhponyGodyou’rereallyaliveIdon’tbelieveitwherehaveyoubeenareyouok?!”

Everyone looked shocked at the open display - certainly, whatever they'd been expecting, this was not it.

“Breathe, Lyra,” Elliot choked slightly.

“Oi, Lyra, get off him!” the stallion added. “Remember protocol! He can't answer if he’s unconscious from asphyxiation! And the implants can’t be helping!”

“Fok protocol, this is clearly a touching reunion!” Kraber yelled out in mock-outrage.

“Yeah, let ‘em have this!” Aegis added. A nearby Thestral mare with gunmetal-silver locks (A night guard? Haven’t seen those in awhile!) and a nameplate reading ‘Lunar Phase’ held a hoof to her mouth and chuckled. Her throaty laugh was surprisingly deep, though. She was standing next to Aegis - evidently, her laughter was infectious.

Lyra jumped off Elliot, suddenly aware of the fact that she had just bounded on top of him in complete ignorance of protocol and in front of about two dozen strangers. She coughed sheepishly before standing to attention.

“Operative Heartstrings, requesting status report, Major,” she said smartly, though a little smirk still found its way onto her face.

“Lyra…?” Cheerilee said weakly from next to Elliot. “You're… you're…”

Lyra glanced at her, frowning slightly. “Representative?”

Elliot held up his hands. “Different worlds, guys. Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee, this is Operative Lyra Heartstrings, part of my special ops unit. And this is -”

“Hell Blazer,” the stallion said, smirking. “Master of the Dark Arts.”

Elliot coughed.

“Alright fine, dabbler,” Hell Blazer groaned. “I'm tons better since I met this idiot, mind you. Helps to learn a bit on the fly.”

“You're…” Cheerilee said, swallowing slightly. “You're the envoy?”

“No, just part of the escort,” Lyra said softly. “Neither of us would miss this. Speaking of - John?”

Hell Blazer nodded, tapped his foot, and a small silvery shape formed in the air next to him, before darting back through the portal.

“Was that magic?” Aegis asked. “But he hasn't got -” He paused. “No. Never mind. Not doing that. ”

“Once was enough,” Kraber agreed.

“What else is part of the escort?” Elliot asked.

Lyra grinned. “You just wait.”

There was a pause, and then suddenly, armoured figures began marching through the portal. Most were of a bulky design, though two or three were sleeker and lighter. They had surprisingly advanced looking rifles, and girt at their sides were swords. Each figure hd custom designs painted onto their armour - some had dragons, some had flags of countries, and some had intricate runes. Every suit of armour had a number printed on it: the leader, in on of the slimmer suits, had the number 001 printed on his chestplate. Their helmets resembled nothing so much as medieval helms with the tubes and filters of gas-masks.

“What?” Elliot breathed out. “But -”

“What are these?” Cheerilee exclaimed.

Elliot couldn't reply. He knew, rationally, what he was looking at, but the idea that they'd actually been completed…

Behind these figures came thirty figures in black trenchcoats and gas masks, holding a variety of guns, though most were modern at least. Each trenchcoat had the symbol of a flayed skull over a national flag, and each soldier moved in eery silence. One figure held a Bren with a edgy grip, as though expecting trouble.

The leader of the armoured group looked at Elliot for a moment. Elliot looked back, frowning slightly at the figure. Suddenly the figure’s hands went to his helmet, and he removed it, revealing a dark skinned, surprisingly young man with wide eyes.

“My lord Albion,” he said softly. “Is it… is it truly you?”

“Eric?” Elliot said, shocked. “You’re… you're a…”

“My lord, I must know if it is you,” Eric Smith said.

Elliot blinked, then held up a hand. Excalibur flashed into existence, glowing brightly in the dim hanger.

Eric grinned, before pointing at Elliot and turning to his men. “Knights of Albion - behold our liege Lord! Behold the Avatar!”

As one, every single armoured figure dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in supplication. Eric did so too, though he couldn't stop the wide grin from staying on his face. The trenchcoated figures, meanwhile, saluted smartly.

Elliot, unsure what to do, brought Excalibur into a salute of his own before planting it in the ground.

“So… this is the envoy?” he asked weakly.

“No sir,” Eric said, standing up. “We are the escort. Hell Blazer, I deem the situation sound.”

“As do I,” the leader of the trenchcoated figures added. “Send for her.”

One of the trenchcoated men turned and walked back through. A moment later, a final three pony figures stepped through the portal. One was a grey-purple mare, young, with a blonde mane and a slightly somber expression. One was a beech Pegasus in a red flightsuit, goggles over his eyes, and the last was…

… Cheerilee. Less battered and muscular than the Cheerilee standing next to Elliot, but definitely Cheerilee.

“Ah, hello!” she said pleasantly, her normal accent tinged with a little bit of a British edge from years spent there. “Cheerilee, Representative of the ruling council and the Exodite movement. How are we all?”

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee blinked. “Oh, for the love of…”

“Is it just me,” said the thestral who was evidently named Lunar Phase, “Or does whoever organized this have a wicked sense of irony?”

“No, it isn’t just you,” Aegis said.

“Aweh, jou’re right,” Kraber agreed, nodding.

“I wouldn't have said ‘irony’,” DisQord said. “I would have said ‘hilarity’. Considering the rather serious nature of some of the things we’ll need to talk about… humour is a good thing.”

“Seconded,” Discord added grimly. “And make no mistake everypony - we’ve all got a lot to talk about.”

Author's Note

Jed
"Hello all. Jed here. Now, you might have noticed updates on this have been reasonably regular - monthly in fact. That's a result of being fortuitously ahead of ourselves for a while: a lot of material's been around for a while and we've been able to expand on it.

Unfortunately, there's a lot less of what's next that's been pre-written. That, coupled with Doc's commitments to the brilliant Light Despondent (go read it, it's linked in the long description) and other work and my own commitments to original writing projects, means that AOA in general is suffering from a dearth of updates and Convergence, unfortunately, will no longer be updated every month. I can't say when it will be updated, but hopefully we'll find time to write something for the new year. I'll let Doc round us off."

Fluffy
Well: This one's been fun! I may have cut off editing a bit early on account of it being 2:40 AM here (Fluffy is sleep need) but yes - I've been very busy with Light, and another upcoming Spectrum side-story. No, they never stahp. Rest assured, we'll have the next chapter doc started by the end of the week... and the chapter of my other fanfic, written as I wait for TB3 to return after the sabbatical he's taken to work on his novel.

That, and I couldn't get it out of my head. ALso, some of you may be wondering about the crystal pony mentioned. I can assure you, ae is not important at all and will definitely not be plot-relevant to light.

Convocation

Chapter Eleven: Convocation.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
RoyalPsycho,

Editors
The Void.

***

"You will find little joy in your command. But, with luck, you'll find the strength to do what needs to be done."
Maester Aemon Targaryen, Game of Thrones: Kill The Boy.

“Today has all the makings of your lucky day.”
The War Doctor, Doctor Who: Day of the Doctor.

***

Ponyville, Year 2 Anno Harmonia - ‘Downtime’ Equestria.

His morning routine was always the same, and had been since he’d gotten married: it started with him waking up at 5:30, looking at his wife with a smile for ten minutes, getting up, walking out of their bedroom and down the stairs, stopping briefly to check on Dinky and Sparkler. His breakfast was made quickly, on the table by 5:50, eaten by 6:10, washed up by 6:25. He then went straight to his TARDIS, opening the door by 6:30. Once inside, he looked around for a moment, as he did every morning, and beginning some routine checks, whistling as he did so.

For the last few days, the TARDIS had been reporting what the Doctor - more often known as Doctor Whooves around here - would have referred to as “unusual stuff”, had he been anywhere but Equestria. Thaumic readings had been through the roof and out the wazoo (love a wazoo), and he knew that even for this place, that was… unusual.

“What does that mean?” he pondered aloud, not for the first time. “Not wazoos, I mean. I mean, what’s all this here?”

There was something else this morning, however. A new, large concentration of thaumic energy was present at Canterlot, as though it was some sort of… what? Congregation? But a congregation of what? What could possibly be generating that kind of power field? Powerful magical individuals could, of course, but not at that size - not even Celestia could -

Beep.

He frowned, checking on the scanner. That was an alert, but nothing to do with Thaumaturgons. It was more to do with… Artron energy…

No. No, it couldn’t be…

He ran outside of the TARDIS quickly, almost running on autopilot. “Derpy! Derpy! You need to get down here! There’s -!”

Knock, knock.

Doctor Whooves paused, frowning. There was a knocking at their front door, and he had a horrible feeling he knew who it might be. Another Artron signal. More than likely a TARDIS. More than likely a Time Lord. More than likely not a good one.

Knock, knock.

He scowled. “Derpy, there's somepony at the door -”

“I know!” his wife called. “I’m getting it!”

“No!” Doctor Whooves yelled. “Wait -!”

He heard the sound of the door opening, and held his breath for a moment, praying his wife hadn’t just opened the door to one of his nemeses. There was a long pause… and then he heard a voice he had never thought to hear again.

What I did, I did without choice.

Every moment in time and space is burning.

No more.

“Good morning. I’m looking for the Doctor.”

***

John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 18th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

It would be disingenuous for any of the PHL there, with the exception of Kraber and Aegis, and their various associates who’d helped varying recover Verity Carter or gone after an Armacham project gone horribly wrong (most of whom weren’t there, with the exception of Lunar Phase) to say that whatever they were expecting, it wasn’t it.

Because, for the most part, nobody had known what to expect. Men and women in gas masks and long coats like some world war 1-era painter’s nightmares of the trenches of Verdun filtered through withdrawal symptoms were striding about the abandoned neighborhood adjacent to the airport. Most of them were carrying either machine guns that wouldn’t look out of place in said paintings or battered modern assault rifles. They marched alongside ragged-looking ponies in khaki shirts with large daggers sheathed at their sides, just behind their forelegs. And overshadowing them were juggernauts in massive metal armor, with helmets somewhere between a knight’s helmet and a gas mask. Next to them were humans in battered clothing that looked to be more stitches and patches than original fabric, though most of them were wearing hazmat suits. At the back were a few jeeps - as well as modified regular cars, including, of all things, a yellow Beetle with a machinegun that looked like a DsHK made of scrap poking out the sunroof - loaded with crates of bizarre supplies, as well as a trio of girls who were bound, gagged and carefully watched by several of the armoured giants.

Perhaps the weirdest thing about their “modern” equipment - or at least, what’d been modern before their war - was that it wasn’t really primitive, just… different. Some of their cars looked like they’d been on drawing boards from this world before their war. Everything that they would’ve called modern before the war was just different in small, barely noticeable ways. Above that, ponies in battered flightsuits stared down at the PHL in awe and wonder, which was returned in kind by the PHL staring up at them. And… was that Heliotrope?

It was! More than a few were looking in awe at Nebula and what few other thestrals lined the room, trying to maintain at least some amount of protocol. It wasn’t quite working - even the most stoic, most broken, couldn’t contain themselves at the displays of the other side.

Case in point, Kraber and Aegis staring over at a twitchy figure clad in a long coat and gas mask who was holding a Bren gun, huge smiles on their faces as they waved at him.

The figure with the Bren looked over to the two of them, turned his head back, then abruptly stared over at the two of them, visibly confused.

And yet, to this menagerie of ragged and futuristic, perhaps the strangest thing besides the odder species of Equus (there were only a few Zebras or griffons in the British Isles) in this room was the people that were greeting them, the people who their Avatar had helped.

Look, an actual army!

Not that the BDF and the cults militant weren’t an army. They were. The only one, to their knowledge. But not in the pre-Barrier sense of the word. Not one with purpose-built firearms and vehicles, not one with armor that wasn’t more patches than original material and hadn’t belonged to some unlucky bastard that’d gotten themselves ponified, and not an army with standardized weaponry and actual, organised (as opposed to constantly-improvised) logistics.

One man with an ancient Tokarev semiauto rifle looted from a museum looked almost hungrily at one Czech PHL detachment’s Vz.58 assault rifles, and a Ugandan unit’s Kalashnikovs.

“What I wouldn’t give to have some of what they’ve got,” one BDF woman named Eva Yezhov, not so quietly, relayed to another soldier next to her as she unloaded a box of non-standardised ammunition for sorting. She quickly realised she was talking to a Dead Man however and abandoned the attempted conversation.

“Standardized ammo,” the Dead Man said, his raspy voice guttural from years of disuse. A massive Lewis Gun was slung over his back.

“Hmm?” Eva asked.

“Their mags. Guns. All NATO standard,” the Dead Man rasped. “Save for the Soviet crap, and…” he looked over at Kraber and Aegis, and the massive, vaguely MG42-like weapon that the former was holding. “Whatever that is. Americans. M16s. 5.56. Kalashnikovs.” He cast an eye over to Eva’s own 5.45mm Kalashnikov, a battered old relic of a gun. “7.62, I think. Unlike yours.”

Eva nodded. “It’s really annoying to get passed a mag full of the wrong ammo.”

“Understood,” the Dead Man rasped again. “Logistics. How I’ve missed you. Funny. Things you miss.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna get rid of that monster Lewis gun?” Eva asked, intrigued despite herself.

“Depends,” the Dead Man shrugged.

“Don’t get too comfy,” another Dead Man said, his voice tinged with a French accent. “We don’t know how this diplomacy stuff will go down.”

“You think it’d go bad?” Eva asked.

“Of course it could go bad,” the Frenchman said. “Everything can go bad.”

“Cheerilee’s good at what she does,” the Dead Man with the bad throat commented. “If anyone can make this thing work it’s her.”

“Oui, under normal circumstances I’d agree with you,” the Frenchman replied with a wry tone. “But they’ve got a Cheerilee too.”

***

The room where the negotiations were set to take place was hardly the most impressive room that could have been chosen, but all the same, Representative Cheerilee had to gawk slightly at the giant Television screen and the comfortable chairs - it was, she noted, the little things that made a difference. The seats were less threadbare and worn, the television a lot less scratched and dusty, the walls a little cleaner.

Cheerilee coughed, and straightened slightly, conscious of where she was. She could marvel at a cleaner environment when she wasn't busy.

“So,” she said amiably, her voice still tinged with the pseudo-British accent she had been picking up. “I think a round of introductions are probably in order. I’m Representative Cheerilee, former Council member and currently representative of Exodite civilian interests.” She motioned to the pony and human figure behind her. “This is the Undead, representative of the BDF and the Cults Militant, and Mr Hell Blazer, speaking on behalf of the Watcher’s Council.”

“Since I was the only sod they don’t care about sending to hell,” Hell Blazer put in dryly. “Including literally.”

The Undead said nothing, but he did incline his head slightly, his now unmasked face impassive. He held an assault rifle in his hands, in defiance of what one might consider normal protocol. Somehow, though, no one had suggested the intimidating man give up his weapon. It seemed to be part of him, in some way nobody could quite place. Hell Blazer, meanwhile, had lit up a cigarette - a nervous looking soldier had quietly said something, but all he’d gotten was a death glare in reply.

These PHL representatives were… interesting. The man on the main screen was one ‘President Jack Davis’, an older man who looked like he’d aged ten years in a month: Representative Cheerilee had never met the man in her own world, though she knew he had existed.

A stern faced woman the Representative felt sure she should recognise was stood there as well. Though she wasn't armed, Representative Cheerilee could tell she probably didn't need to be. Her name, so Cheerilee had been told, was Yael Ze’ev, and she’d been brought in quickly, chosen especially for these talks at the request of certain higher ups. With her was a purplish-pink Pegasus mare with a blue-green and pink mane, and what seemed like a permanently raised eyebrow, whose name - so Cheerilee understood it - was Heliotrope. Both of them were looking at the Undead with what seemed almost like recognition.

Finally, most unnervingly of all, there was Cheerilee’s own counterpart. Dressed in that unfamiliar uniform and far more muscular, she was looking at her as though she had two heads. Saying that, the representative could probably empathise; she too felt rather overwhelmed by what she was experiencing.

The most unnerving part of this conversation, though, was the presence of the two Discords - or rather, Discord and DisQord - standing at either side of the room as though observing them. Discord looked bored, and kept summoning doodads and gadgets into existence presumably to entertain himself. DisQord on the other hand, distinguishable by what some ponies from the BDF group had called his ‘Q’tie mark on his chest, was paying rapt attention to proceedings, his arms folded and his eyes focused on Cheerilee as she spoke, before flicking over each of the other delegates in turn. Their presence was, to say the least, disquieting.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Davis said from the main screen. He seemed, for the most part, unaffected by the Discords. “I take it you're here to represent your… world?”

“That's correct,” Representative Cheerilee said with a nod. She took a breath. “In the name of his highness, Prince Blueblood the Fifty Second, leader of the free kingdom of Equestria and her government in exile, and in the name of the provisional Governing Council of Britain, I have been given authority to speak as representative in any and all negotiations and diplomatic entreaties.”

Davis nodded slowly. “Very well. I suppose we should start by setting out some objectives for this meeting, though frankly I'm at a loss as to what those objectives might be. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I think,” Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee put in, “that we can start by saying that we understand you'll need help, and after hearing about your world, I’m sure you'll be wanting it.”

Representative Cheerilee nodded slowly. “I will admit, that is on the list of priorities.”

“That's going to be a tricky proposition,” Davis said quietly. “I’m sure you understand… we have our own problems.”

“Absolutely,” the Representative said. “I've come here with no expectations, only hope and the promise of friendship and cooperation.”

“‘Hope’,” Yael said, sounding bemused. At the Representative’s slightly confused glance, she clarified. “Having heard what I've heard, I'm surprised your world has hope.”

“As opposed to what?” Hell Blazer asked, raising an eyebrow. “Laying down and saying ‘b-f-fuck it, I give up’?”

Representative Cheerilee smiled slightly. “We've found - quite by accident, I assure you - that there's always hope.”

“Hope or not, the reality will be quite a different thing,” Davis said quietly. “Now, I've come to the understanding that your world is in a state of war with a power not unlike the Solar Empire.”

“In our case, the Solaminan Empire,” the Representative said with a nod. “That's correct.”

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee frowned, before glancing at the Discords. Her eyes settled on the Discord she had worked with.

“You've met this Solamina,” she said grimly. “Do you believe she has any hostile intent towards this Earth?”

Discord glanced at his counterpart before replying in a sarcastic tone. “She has plenty of hostile intent - some for Queenie, some for the humans she knows and some, I don't doubt, kept in a special place just for you, right behind her special black squiggly.”

“Her… what?” Yael asked.

“He's referring, albeit in far more infantile terms than I would, to something beyond your comprehension,” DisQord said dryly. “Suffice it to say - yes, she's hostile. Very hostile. So hostile that saying ‘hostile’ is vaguely insulting.”

Davis clucked his tongue. “So this conflict’s been dropped on our back. How would you describe the Solaminan Army’s equipment?”

Representative Cheerilee frowned. “I think there are more pressing concerns -”

“My most pressing concern is, will they be able to throw things at me that my people aren't ready for?” Davis cut in.

“Since you have never encountered them, that is likely. A full report can be made,” the Undead put in. “But there's been no formal alliance finalised yet between your government and our own - that should be a priority before military action is in place.”

Representative Cheerilee was surprised to hear the Undead of all people say that, but then he was something of a stickler for protocol.

“Shouldn't military action be a priority if your people are in such dire straights, Mr Crane?” Yael asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Not if it is not done within the constraints of guidelines and duty,” the Undead replied with a bland expression, apparently not fazed by the use of his almost-unheard of given name. “These are the things that bind us and prevent us becoming monsters.” He paused. “And I would prefer to be referred to by my title, thank you.”

“‘Prevent us becoming monsters’?” Heliotrope repeated. “In case you hadn't noticed, Mr Crane, we're fightingmonsters. A few bits of paper shouldn't be anypony's - or anyone's - priority!”

“I had noticed,” the Undead repeated, almost sounding mildly irritated, “which is why our morality, and our duty must be clearer than ever before.”

“We just -” Yael started.

Heliotrope looked up at her. It wasn’t a look of condemnation,

Yael and Heliotrope looked like they were about to argue more, but Davis coughed and held up a hand.

“To a degree I’m more concerned about humanitarian aid to your people,” Davis said grimly. “Any ‘alliance’ in military terms is merely a formality - if Solamina has hostile intent, we’ll fight her to the fullest. Let's see her Empire stand up to a Fujin strike…”

“With all due respect,” Representative Cheerilee put in, frowning slightly and not liking the sound of a ‘Fujin’ strike whatsoever. “There are factors to be considered before you engage in military action against the Solaminan Empire.”

The Lieutenant Colonel raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Representative Cheerilee gave her a cool smile. “I’m the representative of the Equestrians in Exile - any action taken against our Equestria should take into consideration the fact that our objective in war, such as it is, is not total obliteration of Equestria, but reclamation.”

“‘Reclamation’?” Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee repeated. “Well, with all due respect, the humans you’re allied with should be your priority, not an Equestria that’s chosen to serve a Tyrant.”

“With all due respect,” the Undead said, echoing the Lieutenant Colonel’s words, “the BDF and governing council are already signatories of the Exodus Convention, and it is the will of the people of our Earth that the Convention be upheld.”

Davis held up a hand. “What do these conventions entail?”

Representative Cheerilee reached inside her saddlebag and pulled out a small folder. She laid it on the table, opened it, and spun it so that Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee could see it. The Lieutenant Colonel frowned as she read it. The text was a fairly short one, and its main stipulations seemed to be quite well laid out. It looked to have been written through multiple sources - pen and ink, sometimes typewriter.

“I trust everything's clear?” Representative Cheerilee asked. “You'll have to forgive me if it’s not the most polished document - it was drafted under very trying circumstances, and I think the last typewriter roll ran out halfway through.”

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee glanced at Davis, before sighing. “We’ll obviously need to go over this.”

Representative Cheerilee nodded slowly. “Alright. We’ll adjourn this for the moment.”

She motioned to the Undead and Hell Blazer, who followed her.

“We’ll leave you to it,” DisQord said. “We’re needed in the other Equestria anyway. My counterpart here needs to do a bit of work.”

“And my counterpart is going to help me,” Discord added with a smirk.

DisQord sighed, raised a claw, and in a flash they were gone.

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee frowned slightly, before looking at the document.

“Right then,” she said. “Let's have a look.”

***

A diplomat’s lounge in Boston…

Soon, it’d be cliche for the varying exodites and survivors to say that “it was nicer than they were used to” on this earth, which was not quite a look into their past. Of course it was. This Earth wasn’t the one that’d been near-entirely destroyed.

It had not passed that point here. Hell Blazer, Cheerilee, and the Undead were enjoying the rather comfortable furniture in the room. ‘Enjoying’ did not, in this particular time, necessarily mean relaxed. Despite the comfort, and coffee - which the Undead almost seemed to be enjoying, despite himself - the atmosphere was clearly one of worry.

“They won't go for it,” the Undead said quietly as soon as they were sat down. “I viewed the footage of their weaponry, and their troops carry around some of the most advanced stuff the way the old British army lugged L85s. They don’t do this by half measures. The only thing they seem to refrain from is chemical weaponry and nerve gas.”

Representative Cheerilee nodded slowly. “They've got different priorities, and those priorities will influence how they see this situation.”

“You mean, they don't care about their Equestria getting bombed to shit, so they probably don't care about your Equestria being bombed to shit?” Hell Blazer asked crudely.

Cheerilee’s face soured slightly. “In… less vulgar terms, that's exactly what I mean. They think of their Equestrian as lost, and with ours being so similar, maybe they think we feel the same, or should feel the same.”

“Well, according to Dave, the Equestria they come from is a shithole,” Hell Blazer said, taking a drag. “Got the standard shit - secret police, ponies getting dragged out in the night and getting brainwashed if they don’t agree. Then there’s these Newfoal things… apparently they’re slave labor that only take breaks because they will work themselves to death if not prompted otherwise. Institutionalized forgetfulness to bury guilt over the war. Domination of neighboring countries. And there is… suspicion… that Celestia caused a disaster on a skyliner simply because it wasn’t built for war, and the centerpiece statue did not feature her.”

“There’s secret police in our Equestria too,” Cheerilee pointed out. “The Iron Wall, the thousand… billions of Convies who were worked to death to build it and built into it when they dropped dead on the job. The Cloudsdale sanctions, the strike breaking… and yet i’m not advocating ignoring collateral. I helped draft the Convention after the sanctions, after reports of ponies being dragged away in the night. These things didn't make me want to give up on Equestria, they made me want to save it even more!”

“Because it’s some bit of yourself to cling to,” the Undead said.

“Maybe,” Cheerilee said. “But whatever the reason, I can't just divorce myself from the innocents I know are left there.” She paused, sighing. “I don’t doubt that whatever made this Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee as angry as she is was terrible. I… don’t understand how I could react like that, but…”

“First rule the Doctor has when dealing with these people,” Hell Blazer said. “Don’t think of these people as us.”

“That seems wise,” the Undead commented. “Still - they’re determined to defeat this world’s Equestria at any cost, and they have more numerous and advanced guns than us, and more warm bodies holding them. For the sake of the ponies I know, I… am concerned as to what they could do, should they choose to engage the Solaminan Empire.”

“And they seem like they will,” Hell Blazer said quietly. “With or without our sayso.”

Cheerilee sighed. “And ponies back home will not like that. Not one bit.”

“If we do not convince them to act according to the Convention, I do not know how we would stop them from acting against Solamina without our approval,” the Undead said quietly. “Diplomatic channels will likely not be a deterrent, and militarily -”

“We are not,” Cheerilee cut him off, speaking quietly but emphatically, “discussing military engagement with this Earth when we’ve only just met them. I was elected as Representative to stand for the Exodites, not to start wars with other worlds.”

The Undead frowned slightly. “Representative, it is my duty to consider all possible courses.”

“And I am dismissing your consideration,” Cheerilee replied testily. “We’ll do that in due time. If they don't want to sign the Convention… we'll worry then. We don't even know what they’ll think of it.”

“Realistically, what can we do?” Hell Blazer asked, sounding surprisingly serious.

Cheerilee frowned for a moment. “If they don't go for it?” She paused. “We can refuse access to our Earth. Unless they're total hypocrites, they won't want to invade our territory without permission.”

“Or,” Hell Blazer said, “they’ll realize that fighting us at a time like this is b-b…” he sighed. “Fucking stupid. And someone will say it’s a pissing contest.”

“Thank God this Davis isn't George Bush,” the Undead said dryly.

Hell Blazer turned at him in shock. “Was that a joke from you?!”

“No,” the Undead said, deadpan.

Cheerilee grinned. Now at least she could say she’d seen something few had. “In any case, we can also refuse to allow them to send aid - Davis said that was one of his priorities. Let's make it clear he can't meet that priority without meeting one of ours.”

“We do need that aid,” the Undead said quietly. “Fuel, solar panels… it’s not enough.”

“I've done this job for a long time,” Cheerilee said quietly. “The majority would see that aid as a bribe, blood money for the lives these people would risk and that these PHL would basically dismissed as irrelevant by their refusal to sign.”

“Our integrity is more important,” Hell Blazer put in, uncharacteristically grim-faced. “Yeah - that's something people will say. Especially after the camps.” He paused. “We… we don’t need any more on our collective consciences. Never again.”

“Never again,” the Undead repeated, almost like a mantra. Was that… was that a flicker of emotion in those dead eyes as he said that? A hint of extra moisture in there? “There’s what’s necessary. And what is right.”

“Never again,” Cheerilee added quietly. “We’re agreed. Some falls are too far, no matter the reason.”

“I do have to wonder, though,” the Undead said. “How close the PHL could be to their fall.”

“Do we want to know?” Hell Blazer asked. “I mean, if these guys decide to throw morality out the window, they're a hell of a lot more well-equipped than us. We couldn't -”

“Gentlemen,” Cheerilee cut them off. “This line of thought will serve no one. I would be surprised if neither of you has a point. I’m cautious as well, but they’re the best ally we’ve had in our war since Elliot came.”

Hell Blazer looked sheepish. Almost apologetic. “You’re right. What’s it that Harry Dresden said when he became Winter Knight? I’m racking my brains for-”

“‘You’re the least evil of my options?’” the Undead suggested.

“Yeah, that was it!”

“They’re not evil,” Cheerilee said. “Just… ambiguous.”

“I know,” Hell Blazer said. “But…” a frightful look crossed his face. “There were things other than Elliot that could be called for help. All for the low prices of immortal souls. Or something worse.”

“I’m going to be happier not knowing about that, aren’t I?” Cheerilee asked.

“Yes,” Hell Blazer said.

“These things are powerful, I take it?” the Undead asked.

“Stow that line of thought,” Cheerilee put in. “If military action is off the table, ‘demons from hell’ are in the rubbish bin in the lobby outside, under a half eaten sandwich and a newspaper.”

“You thought I just meant demons?” Hell Blazer asked. “Oh, no. Be a clusterfuck if I tried that sort of thing, and I’m no expert, but I believe that falls under the category of not having integrity. Wouldn’t end well for awhile. No, I meant -”

Cheerilee shot him a Look.

“Right. Stowing the line of thought,” Hell Blazer muttered.

There was a brief glance shared between Blazer and the Undead, who looked thoughtful.

“We can’t stop them from acting, but we can show them we disapprove,” Cheerilee said finally. “Hopefully, though, it won't come to that.” She paused. “We’ll have to see.”

“Do you think they’ll go for it?” Hell Blazer asked Cheerilee quietly.

She shrugged. “I honestly don't know.” She sighed. “I’m going to go back to the Council and report my findings. We’ll see what happens when I get back. In the meantime, you keep your eyes on things.”

She headed off, clearly feeling less than brilliant. As she did so, Blazer and the Undead shared another look, neither of them looking entirely thrilled with their previous line of conversation.

“What are you thinking?” the Convie asked quietly.

The Undead was frowning. “I'm thinking that there is a lot I need to prepare.”

Hell Blazer nodded once, understanding. “Cheerilee… was pretty optimistic, wasn't she?”

“Her optimism is not the problem. It is simply not her place to dismiss my considerations,” the Undead said quietly. “My duty transcends her. If I am asked for that contingency…”

"You wanna be ready," Hell Blazer finished. "Me too. Tread carefully though. Dunno how far we want to go with contingency."

"I will go as far as duty demands," the Undead replied.

“Just keep it in the planning stage. These PHL look like a twitchy lot,” Hell Blazer said, shrugging.

The Undead nodded slowly, before walking off as well, leaving the Converted stallion alone. He paused to light a cigarette and take a drag, before sighing.

"Well, shit," he said.

***

“So,” Yael asked, folding her arms. “What's the deal?”

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee frowned slightly as she ran over the text.

“The basic guidelines seem to go like this,” she said after a moment. “‘The human race will receive the full, unreserved help of the Exodite movement and Government in Exile in war and peace, and upon victory all suitable and appropriate reparations of material and pony-power will be apportioned.”

“That seems reasonable,” Davis commented. Yael said nothing.

Cheerilee frowned as she continued. “In return, all ponies have the right of settlement and all citizenship and protection rights that humans have in all respects.” She paused. “Basically, they won't be second class citizens. In addition, the human race will in all matters seek to assist the Exodite movement and Government in Exile in reclaiming the territory of Equestria and liberating the ponies of Equestria without causing ‘undue or extensive collateral damage’. Looting from the homes of Equestrian citizens is forbidden.”

“Reasonable,” Heliotrope said, nodding. “I can agree with the last one.”

“What does it define as ‘undue or extensive’?” Yael asked, her frown deepening.

“There's a list of specific weapons that are banned,” Cheerilee said quietly. “Nukes are off the table…”

“Would they still have those?” Heliotrope asked.

“Britain has Trident,” Yael pointed out. “Or had. Presumably this Britain still does.”

“Well, they're banned,” Cheerilee said, “along with all biological and chemical warfare, all extensive non-precision artillery and non-precision air strikes. Also banned are any tactics or assaults where the majority of casualties are likely - or intended - to be civilian, and the stipulation makes a point of including Converted - by which they mean their Newfoals.”

“I notice it doesn’t include our Newfoals,” Heliotrope said.

“Probably for the best,” Yael said, and clucked her tongue. “I can see where they're coming from. But that limits a lot of our options. Fujin missiles, massed artillery, possibly Thunderclaps, infrastructural sabotage…”

“You won’t be happy about the last one,” Cheerilee said to Heliotrope.

“No, Ma’am. The Resistance won’t be happy about that last one,” Heliotrope corrected her. “...But I guess I’m not. If… hypothetically speaking, we attack the Empire -”

Cheerilee raised an eyebrow, and shifted on her hooves in a motion that practically screamed ‘Well, maybe not so hypothetical soon...’

“Really?” Heliotrope asked. “Bitchin! ...Ma’am. But if we hypothetically attack them, I don’t want them to be able to deploy every guard to Canterlot easily.”

“Hard to believe they went for it,” Yael said quietly.

Heliotrope shrugged. “Might’ve been my idea, but they love it. They can’t go on the front, but disrupting shipments of war materiel is their bread and butter.”

“Harshwhinny has gotten operatives placing a lot of hexes on bridges, train tracks, and roads,” Cheerilee said. “Don’t know what they’re up to, but seeing as it’s not a bug…” she sighed. “Again.”

“Blame Chalcedony for that one,” Yael said.

“Especially cause she used some of my materials that I ordered special,” Heliotrope added.

“Representative Cheerilee did specify their Equestria,” Davis pointed out. “Their convention doesn't make mention of ours, and I doubt they'd have issue with our dealing with the Solar Empire as we see fit.”

“First off, we never asked them that,” Heliotrope pointed out. “Secondly, if this Solaminan Empire is as big a threat as we're hearing, can we afford to just let them walk all over us?”

“The Convention only bans certain weapons,” Cheerilee pointed out.

“Yeah. The big, destructive, war-winning ones,” Heliotrope said acidly. “I mean, I know they've got their guy-with-a-sword thing going on, but still!”

There was a pause as everyone in the room let that sink in.

“Cheerilee, this mare is you, to all intents and purposes,” Davis said to the Lieutenant Colonel. “If we refuse, what would she do?”

Cheerilee raised an eyebrow. “She's very different from me, Mr. President.”

“The question stands,” he said simply.

The Lieutenant Colonel sighed. “I don't know - she’d do whatever she could. Depends how crazy they are - maybe they'd deny us the right to help their people and give aid. Maybe they'd try to stop us getting involved. Maybe they'd even try fighting us.”

“They'd have to know that's suicide,” Davis pointed out, frowning. “And that fighting us at a time like this is stupid.”

“Don't underestimate them,” Yael put in. “They've got more than Elliot told us. And I know from experience that people will fight hard to defend their sovereignty, even if they’ve got no chance in hell.”

“They’ve got those armoured things,” Cheerilee said quietly. “And even though I don't think it was a deliberate omission, it’s something unexpected. Faust knows what else there might be.”

“Deliberate or not, there's more to them than meets the eye,” Yael countered. “Underestimating them would be… well, bad. They don’t know what we have, and we...”

What was that look on her face?

“...Don’t have a very good idea,” she finished.

Davis held up a hand. “Look, I’m happy to go on record and say I think they're naive. But, in so far as legality exists in this sort of situation, they'd have the legal right to refuse aid from us. Also, while I'm not relishing having to tighten our rules of engagement, the question I have to ask is, ‘is it worth pissing off these people?’ One Equestria is bad enough even with our… let’s call it supernatural aid. Another, and some humans that are worse off than us? That’s morally untenable. And, ignoring whatever they could field, it’s quite likely that we could simply throw more men at the problem till it went away. Which is also reprehensible, same with the idea of an efficient solution. Either way, fighting these people ranks well among the worst decisions I could make. I'm not about to go there and make their situation worse - or ours, if they are hiding something big and nasty underneath that raggedy stuff.”

“Counter question, and this is more me playing devil’s advocate at this point, so don't think I’m disagreeing with you sir,” Yael said with a thoughtful frown. “‘Is it worth keeping these people on our good side if it hamstrings our ability to fight a war of annihilation?’”

“We can sign it now,” Cheerilee said suddenly. “But if we need to act later…”

There was a pause as her words floated on the air.

“Wait - are you suggesting lying to them?” Davis asked.

“No,” Cheerilee said. “I’m suggesting we shouldn't let this ‘Exodus convention’ restrict us unless it's convenient to do so.”

“So, you are,” Heliotrope put in.

Cheerilee sighed. “Works like this. We sign it and we stick to it while we are able and while tactics allowed by it are doing the trick. If we have to do anything more serious… we don't need to stick to it.”

“Risky,” Yael put in. “Not signing it might lead to some problems, but at least we’re being honest with them if we don’t. Deliberately contravening it once it's signed? That's a different question.”

“They'll be really pissed off if we look like we've gone back on our word,” Heliotrope added.

“They’d be angry if we didn’t sign it,” Cheerilee said. “Or at least mistrustful. They'd not let us help them - and if this Solamina is the threat I keep hearing about, the threat Elliot described, we can't afford to be kept from fighting her, because she’ll turn her eyes on us.” She paused, sighing heavily. “I don't like lying - don't get me wrong. But it’ll be easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“That particular aphorism isn’t exactly the most sensible even for small things,” Yael said, folding her arms. “And we’re not talking about buying an expensive bottle of wine or a nice suit as a gift without asking our other half. We’re talking about decisions that affect potentially billions of lives. They won’t appreciate us… being dishonest.”

“Basically, if they find out we lied, we’ll have just fucked ourselves up the ass,” Heliotrope summarised bluntly.

Cheerilee looked at them both. “We don't have time to waste discussing treaties. We sign it, we progress, and we see what happens. Maybe we won't even need to contravene it.”

“Or maybe we will,” Yael countered. “At which point…”

“At which point the aforementioned assfuck enters the game,” Heliotrope said quietly.

“Then we’ll deal with the assfuck when the time comes,” Cheerilee said insistently. “But we can’t be held up now!”

There was a pause as this started to sink in.

“Alright,” Davis said quietly. “I'll make a few calls and see if the UN concurs with any of our recommendations. I’m on record as recommending signing.”

“Agreed,” Cheerilee said.

“Agreed,” Yael said quietly.

“Yeah,” Heliotrope added.

Davis nodded. “Then we're in business.”

Cheerilee nodded. Yael and Heliotrope shared glances. If this worked, it would make this all much easier. If it didn't…

***

Temporary BDF camp, New York. November 18th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Despite the best efforts of a few adventurous or optimistic souls, the atmosphere in New York was tense. The BDF had been given space for billeting and had quickly set up a makeshift camp with the speed and efficiency of many years of practise. The armoured men still remained in their thick metal suits and the dark, gasmask clad figures were either on watch or preparing to replace them but most of the regular troops and ponies had stowed their gear.

The PHL still watched them somewhat warily. Despite the supposed diplomatic purpose of their presence, the rather large contingent had shown up on their territory armed to the teeth. Their arsenal was a bizarre mix of shoddy, archaic and esoteric but every soldier looked ready to fight and kill at a moment’s notice. The PHL were no different. They had all seen the Avatar’s miracle on television but many were still wary of him and his world. Too little was properly understood about them.

“So,” asked Sylvia Garcia, looking down at the camp that had been established in East Boston, near Jeffries Point. “Bossman.” She took a swig of rotgut. Nobody had been willing to complain. “Thoughts?”

“Feldwebel, now,” Kraber said.

Sylvia did a spit-take. “You?!”

“I’m surprised I got higher than private,” Kraber said. “For valor in the field, shooting the Tyrant, helping to secure a valuable ally. And Aegis got one too! Now… apparently we’re the same rank or something?”

“Call me sarge if ya want,” Aegis said, nodding. “Sergeant Aegis. That’s got a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The motley crew Kraber had led, remnants of other units that had been nearly annihilated during the first blitz of the east coast, were all standing alongside him, overlooking the BDF camp.

“Anyway. What… what do you think of all this?” Sylvia asked.

“I don’t like it,” Tempest sighed, looking through her binoculars down at the camp. “It’s just… they’re in armor all the time, armed, they’re more twitchy than us!”

“We wear armor all the time,” pointed out Quint, surveying them through a set of binoculars of his own. “Heh. Power-armored soldiers in Boston near the airport. Where’s their Prydwen?”

“Probably didn’t fit through the portal. They’re scared cause it’s different,” Kraber said. “They’ve watched their whole world get pounded to the fokkin’ dust, and here they are in a place that’s…” he pondered for a second. “That’s how pre-War would be to us. I wouldn’t know how to deal with that.” He paused. “That, and there’s another me down there, and I’m pretty sure he’s seen a bunch of us die, and also held a Royal Guard’s chest open with bungee cords to use a hammer on someone’s heart-”

“Don’t ask,” Aegis stage-whispered.

“So that can’t be helping.” He paused for a second. “I wonder if they have survivor’s guilt now. That’d be fokkin’ kak. Poor varknaaiers.”

“Let’s hope it’s not the one that saw me die,” Aegis said.

“God, I hope not,” Kraber said shivering and shaking his head. “If whatever deity might’ve sent them here has any kindness, it’s not that one.”

“What’re you…” Quint asked.

“Ignore them, they’ve been fucking with everyone since the Avatar came in,” Tempest said. “All wink-wink, nudge-nudge, I know something you don’t…”

“I was wondering about that. What are you two talking about, anyway?” Petrikov asked.

Kraber looked downcast for a second. More than usual, anyway. “I… don’t want to tell you till I’m absolutely sure.”

“Well, why not?” Tempest asked. “Unless you’ve just been fucking with us the whole ti-”

“He’s always fucking with people,” Aegis interrupted.

“Oweh,” Kraber nodded. “Cable’s been unreliable lately, anyway. I’m just, well… it’s… j’see…” he sighed. “Fok.”

“He’s afraid you’ll think he’s crazy,” Aegis said bluntly.

“How could he possibly-” Tempest started.

“Let’s not go there,” Kraber said. “Let’s… just a moment. I’ll tell people later. ”

As the PHL troops watched, one of the armoured figures, in the slightly slimmer version of what they assumed to be Power Armour, walked up to a group of his colleagues, held up a hand, and then the rest began kneeling, as if in prayer. The lead figure took his helmet off, revealing the dark skinned features of the man Elliot had called ‘Eric’, and then he knelt too, head bowed.

“What’re they doing?” Petrikov asked.

Aegis and Kraber shrugged.

Suddenly, one of the armoured figures straightened its head, and looked right at the PHL, as if pointing. Kraber waved at them, as obnoxiously as he could manage through just a movement of the forearm without making obscene gestures. The leader stood and turned, before motioning to his men. They stood, and three of them followed the leader as they walked toward the PHL group.

“They’re not gonna shoot us,” Aegis said calmly. “Still, nobody do anything threatening.”

“How do you know they won’t?” Tempest asked.

“Because that’d be fokking dof?” Kraber suggested. “Aegis, does that… that work?”

Aegis nodded. “Yes. ‘Fokking dof is an acceptable reason here.”

A moment later, the group of armoured figures reached them. There was a moment of awkward silence. Even after all this time, nobody had been sure what to make of each other, and Kraber half-suspected that the BDF had made their camp not out of secretiveness, but out of overload. The leader raised a hand in greeting.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

“Whakind, ekse?” Kraber said.

The leader looked to process this for a second. “...Kraber? What are you doing here?”

“Different one,” Kraber said. “I don’t have all the gray hairs in the beard, I didn’t shave half my head, and I probably didn’t do that thing with the bungie cords.”

The leader tilted his head slightly. “Oh yes. Should probably have noticed that, but the amount of times I’ve seen you without your mask on… actually, I have no idea. Less than six?”

“...I don’t expose people to my sharp cheekbones?” Kraber asked in mock-confusion. “Fok. It really is bad there.”

“You are a Dead Man,” the leader pointed out. “And like I said, you’re barely seen without the mask. I think this is the best look I’ve ever gotten of your face.”

“Uh,” Sylvia said. “Hey. Philadelphia woman here. I… don’t know what context you have here, but I’m missing a lot of it.”

The leader glanced at her. “I know a version of him. He’s rather famous for being the least dour dour person you could know, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn't,” Sylvia said blandly.

“… fair enough,” the armoured man said. “But I suppose that’s neither here nor there.” He held out a hand. “Eric Smith. Actually, Sir Eric Smith. Leader of the Holy Order of Albion.”

“You’re a knight?” Kraber asked. “Huh. Well.”

“What’s the… what’s the Holy Order of Albion?” Sylvia asked.

“You had to ask,” one of the armoured figures said in an undertone, their voice clearly female despite the helmet. “He loves this story.”

Eric grinned. “I’ll make it short then.”

“Hallelujah,” the woman said with a chuckle.

Eric turned to Sylvia, looking thoughtful for a moment. “At the battle of Cornwall, I was blessed to wield Excalibur, if only briefly. That act conferred some measure of its power onto me - and then afterward, I found that I was able to confer it on others. I founded the Holy Order of Albion after that: we are the inheritors of the mantle of the Knights of the Round Table.”

“Can ponies be part of it?” Aegis asked. “… Always liked stories of knights as a colt. It’s just, well, Arthurian m…” he looked up at Eric, then the two other armored figures. “‘Myth’ is not the right word here, is it?”

“Hey, we used to be mythical to you,” Kraber said, looking down at his friend. “I’m not judging.”

“I might like to -” Sylvia started, and then abruptly whatever train of thought she was carrying slammed the brakes at the switch to let a high-speed freight train pass by. “Wait. Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. Hold the phone and the mayo. Excalibur?! And… and King Arthur?!”

“Yes?” Eric said, as though this were clear. “Didn’t he come here? I thought he’d already done something noticeable.”

“Elliot - well, the Avatar - healed a woman’s hand on live TV,” Petrikov said. “So… that’s pretty noticeable.”

Sylvia shot her Russian friend a Look. “I saw it too, it’s just… it’s…” Another sigh. Another gulp of rotgut. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I can understand that,” Eric said with a nod. He looked around. “Would you believe, I always wanted to come to America?”

“Actually, yes,” Aegis said. “I had a lot of fun visiting some national parks around here.”

“And I can always help welcome you in with some shrimp and grits,” Kraber said.

“I thought that was a southern American thing, not a South African thing,” the other armored man said.

“It is, but my wife’s family migrated up from South Carolina and taught me the recipe,” Kraber explained. “What you do is you take some corn and honey-ginger barbecue sauce…”

“We don't have those,” one of the armoured figures pointed out.

Kraber’s eyes widened in mock-horror. “My… God…”

Eric shrugged. “I think I was more interested in Disneyland. I was only twelve when the Barrier started expanding.”

“...Twelve?” Kraber said, ashen-faced. “Sonovafok. I’m sorry to hear that… nobody should have to grow up in a war like this.”

“I think I was twelve,” Eric said, frowning. “Maybe that’s just when Portal Island manifested, though… hard to keep track.”

“I was eight when the Barrier started moving,” the woman said quietly beneath her helmet. She took the bulky thing off, revealing a young woman, no older than sixteen, with blonde curly hair cut short and green eyes full of pain. “It’s… almost all I’ve known, this life.”

“And I’m sorry to hear that too,” Aegis said. “...Well. If we’ve got the Avatar on our side, and… some other stuff… then I promise, we’ll all do our best to make sure that when we win, there’ll be something for both of you outside fighting for your lives.”

“You’ve got my promise too,” Kraber said. “Can’t go and turn down something like that.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “There.. is something outside fighting for our lives.”

“The regulars don’t have that,” the young woman pointed out.

“Maybe not,” Eric said. “Still. It’s appreciated. And you have our promise that we’ll do our best to help you with your problems.”

Kraber held out a hand, and Aegis, shrugging, reared up and held out a hoof.

“Thanks,” Kraber said, an uncharacteristically wide and honest smile on his face.

Eric took Kraber’s hand and the young woman took Aegis’ hoof.

“So,” Eric asked. “What has Lord Albion been doing while he’s been here? We weren’t told much.”

“Our legendary warrior and god-figure is probably watching Markiplier on youtube,” Aegis said.

“...I don’t know who that is,” the young woman said.

Sylvia, Kraber, and Aegis all stared at her, almost aghast.

“Wait, hang on,” she added, frowning. “Oh - the glasses and pink moustache one, right? My mum and dad sat me with them while they watched it years ago!” She grinned at the realisation. “That takes me back…”

“...I sorta feel like I should be feeling really old right now, and sorta not,” Kraber said. “That was… well, your mom and dad had good taste, I think.”

The young woman’s smile faded. “Yeah. I guess they did.”

“...Oh,” Kraber said, looking down. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s only fourteen million humans left,” Eric said quietly, a humourless smile on his face. “I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone who hasn’t lost someone. Or everyone.”

“Fourteen million,” Aegis said. “Yeah, he said it, but I… damn.”

“It’s good in some ways,” the last remaining fully armoured figure said quietly. “It lets us concentrate on what matters in our lives.”

“I guess it does,” Kraber said. “I… bout a year ago, I had just a couple photos, about five guns, the clothes on my back, and a couple stuffed animals to my name. Hell of a thing being in that kinda state.”

“Did we get all the stuff you buried outside my house?” Aegis asked.

“It was just two guns and some armor,” Kraber explained. “So yes. I wonder if the other me has those stuffed animals. I always did wish I could bring extra stuffed dogs out of my dreams as a kid.”

Sylvia just stared up at him, confused.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable dream,” Aegis said, nodding pleasantly.

Eric shrugged. “I don’t think I ever -”

“He does,” a voice cut in.

Everyone turned, to see a masked Dead Man standing nearby, standing somewhat easily, arms folded.

“Aaaaaaand, that’s the other Kraber, isn’t it,” Sylvia said.

“Actually, I just know him,” the man said, his accent French. “Samuel Dupont, former French Foreign Legion. He and I came to Britain together - he’s trying to avoid you.”

He pointed at Kraber.

“...Eh, fair enough,” Kraber shrugged. “I… don’t exactly have a good relationship with myself anyway.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what he said,” Dupont said quietly. “I suspect he thought you'd either hug him or punch him. I don't know which he found worse to contemplate.”

“I dunno, his hugs are pretty strong,” Aegis reasoned. “And this is me saying that.”

Dupont shrugged. “In any case, I just wanted to come and see what you were like.”

“If he was all the other one made him out to be?” Aegis asked.

“Something like that,” Dupont nodded. “So far… you’re quite similar. He’s a little more dour, though. And his beard’s much grayer. I take it you didn’t lose your family like he did?”

There was an awkward pause.

“Let’s move on,” Aegis said.

“Ah,” Dupont said. “But do you know how they… you know…”

“Yes,” Kraber said shortly, without elaboration.

“Ah,” Dupont said quietly. “He doesn’t. He wasn’t with them at the time - and then they were gone, and so was their town.”

“I’m… mostly sure they’re ponified,” Kraber said. “Don’t tell him this, but if he finds them at the end, and more Dead Men try to recruit him, he’ll probably say ‘Consider me resurrected or some kak, as of now I am on leave’ or something like that.”

Dupont folded his arms. It was impossible for them to see his face, but he practically exuded ‘raised eyebrow’. “Ok, you and him are exactly alike.”

“...What were you expecting?” Aegis asked. “For him to pretend to be Francis Begbie for an entire year? He could barely keep that up for a month.”

“I was very schwifty,” Kraber pointed out. “And kind of suffering a mental breakdown.”

Dupont chuckled. “That is fair. Anyway, I’d best get back. I have a lot to do, and that includes preventing him from drinking half this town away.”

“We’re going to get along great,” Aegis said, grinning.

“Aren’t you gonna…” Sylvia asked, looking up at Kraber.

“No, he’s pretty much right on the money there,” Kraber said. “That is also something I would do. Tell him the stock of bourbon hidden in the old college dorm here has already been broken into. I checked. And, uh, so’s the hidden ecstasy stash. And the hidden LSD stash. And the hidden cocaine stash. And the mor…. wait, I lit that on fire for, the, uh… the thing with the...” he sighed. “Dammit, what was that thing I lit on fire back in college?”

“Merde,” Dupont swore, suddenly astonished and strangely exhausted by what the man who looked like his friend was revealing to him. “How am I going to deal with two of you?”

“Well, nobody said you had to,” Kraber pointed out. “I mean, Aegis is here, so I don’t think much will change.” He paused. “Oh wait! I lit the krokodil on fire for that big antidrug rally! I must've been really drunk that night to forget something like that…”

***

Canterlot labs, Canterlot, November 18th, 6th Year Anno Harmonia, 2023, ‘Tyrant’ Equestria.

There were always test subjects aplenty in the labs.

Some were humans that had been quietly ferried through portal stations, drugged with enough tranquilizers to make even an elder dragon woozy. Some were Newfoals, kept in states of stasis, tubes hooked up to masks that enclosed most of their faces. Others were those of other races, including griffons and zebras.

Twilight Sparkle - or at least, the thing inhabiting her - didn’t care what Griffonstone or Zebrica might say on the subject of missing citizens. Their countries knew what Equestria might do if they raised even a foreleg in protest.

A row of Newfoals sat in large tanks of viscous liquid, with small tubes piercing their bodies at irregular, seemingly random intervals. Thaumoemotive indicators sat nearby, next to rows of computers the size of a train. Indecipherable papers marked with strange symbols scrolled to the floor in a blizzard of data.

“Is it working?” Twilight asked the newfoal researcher. She only accepted the finest Newfoals to assist in her research. Only they seemed to have the mental fortitude to deal with her great, important work. The ‘trueborns,’ as they insisted on calling themselves, had a simply unacceptable, inefficient turnover rate. Newfoals, some of which had undergone special treatments to be more useful for research, had proven better.

“Good question,” the newfoal said. She scratched behind her head. “The magic you’re working with is… unfamiliar.”

“So is PHL magic,” Twilight responded.

“Yes, but this is… unknowable,” the newfoal said. “The energy signatures recorded from this Knight are… alien.”

“How so?” Twilight asked.

“Completely dissimilar from anything in Equestria,” the newfoal said. “Maybe… a trace amount. Here and there. And Researcher Prism has been… concerned.”

“Prism again?” Twilight sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if that fat old skeptic is really as indispensable as the rest of the division claim.”

“He introduced a dosage of the new potion strain into one subject,” the newfoal - Twilight couldn’t remember her name - responded. “It was messy.”

“Are we going to need to incinerate another failure?” Twilight sighed disappointedly.

“No, just a mop,” the newfoal said. She had no inflection in her voice as she said this. It was excellent - all those ponies that called themselves trueborn, and Newfoals… so unquestioning, so obedient. Everything would go according to plan. Everything would be in order.

“Great,” Twilight groaned.

“There’s a new set of breed-models in the works,” the newfoal continued. “But Prism’s been complaining again. He says that introducing this sort of unproven thing into new strains of potion isn’t proven technology-”

“That’s why we’re trying to prove it,” Twilight interrupted.

The newfoal remained silent for a second.

“You may continue,” Twilight said. Right.

“He also said that introducing new templates into the potion matrix on such short notice never ends well,” the newfoal continued.

Twilight groaned. “Tell him that it’s emergency! If the humans have something like this… Knight… on their side, and it can defeat a clone of my Queen, we have to have it out there! The longer we rely on the Barrier to do its job, the more dangerous it will become!”

“He told me you’d say that,” the newfoal said. “He also told me to tell you to consider one new strain of potion that didn’t result in anomalies.”

Twilight just groaned, slumping downward. “Great.”

“I am sorry to have offended you,” the newfoal said, as if it were trying to plead. But it was curiously uninflected.

“No, no,” Twilight said. “I don’t believe in shooting the messenger. We’d lose too many that way,” she said, laughing at her own joke.

The newfoal laughed along with her. “Prism also instructed me to ask how your breed-models are coming?”

Twilight looked up to a human floating in a tank, its limbs halfway between pony and human. A large array of injectors and tubes wove in and out of the subject. She hadn’t done this for quite some time - the Potion itself had been incredibly counterproductive for the purpose of manual shaping.

But thanks to the… incident… in Nova Scotia involving the theft of totem-proles, Twilight didn’t trust the Configuration Daemons to be allowed initiative. Give a pony an inch, and they’d take a mile… or, in the case of those things that were and were not quite Newfoals, something between pony and alicorn, the mile had been stolen by the daemon, then the Newfoals had…

Twilight shook her head. That was another problem for another day, and the configuration daemons would have to be extensively reprogrammed, perhaps even reset. For now, though, her daemon was operating on a very short leash.

It could no more complain about this than a plow could complain about being pulled.

“I’ve created the opposite frequency to the Knight’s,” Twilight said. “You were right - it is strange. But this should serve to counter it. Cancel it out.”

Was that… fear? On the newfoal’s face?

Twilight decided that she needed to get it reformatted sooner or later. Newfoals had been weird, lately. This was why directives had been issued to Salvation Army and Wonderbolt ponies to convert as much as possible in sterile areas where earth couldn’t interfere with the process…

...which were nigh-impossible to find. Twilight had actually been on the battlefield before, had seen the hardships that soldiers went through, and knew they were hard to even create. But every little bit counted.

“Let’s see if it works,” Twilight said, and pulled down one lever. A strain of potion, an almost neon-pink color crept…. no, it didn’t creep. Living things crept. But somehow, Twilight could not think of the potion as flowing rather than creeping.

***

The human floating in the tank had been anesthetized with enough Equus drugs to OD an avanc.

She floated, drifting aimlessly in a black void, thinking of nothing and imagining nothing. Somewhere, she was aware that she should have been thinking of something, attempting something, but nothing came to mind.

And then, sensation!

The woman found herself in what looked like the lobby of a clinic of some kind. The furniture was all white and plastic, the magazines on end-tables where it would logically make sense to find magazines were just sheafs of white paper stapled together, and the plants looked to be made of strands of something white.

It was cold like the inside of a walk-in freezer. Something seemed important about that to the woman. Something seemed like she had somewhere else to be, but where?

Her mind went fuzzy when she tried to think of it. Who was she, again?

Who was she?

“Welcome!” said someone. Pleasant. Eager. Smelling oddly antiseptic. It was a good thing this clinic had such an eager receptionist...

Where. Did she. Have. To be?

The woman couldn’t see the receptionist behind the desk, from where she was sitting.

There was somewhere. Somewhere important the woman had to be. Where? Where did she have to go? No, this was a doctor’s appointment. You simply didn’t leave a doctor’s appointment.

“I’m sure your illness will be cured in due time,” the receptionist said. Something sounded weird about her voice…

“What illness?” the woman asked. “Am I going to be fine?”

“In due time,” the receptionist said, turning the corner around the wall, “You will be better than fine.”

...Oh, fuck.

Twilight Sparkle. The memories crashed down around the woman - she’d been scavenging from an area too close to the Barrier, in a wide swath of area frequented by PER and HLF alike. It had been stupid, she knew, but her brother had been so cold....

The bitch that had been the figurehead of all Conversion, and she was in front of her!

“No!” the woman screamed. Mojisola, she remembered. I am Mojisola.

But Twilight carried no vial…

“Because I have you already,” Twilight said.

Mojisola rushed backwards. The exit! Where was the exit?! But… no. There was no exit. There was nothing - the room had no doors and windows. There was a tall rectangular frame in the wall where it would have made sense for there to be a door, but there was just a smooth expanse of wall. There were no windows either.

Soon, it became just the box of the room they inhabited.

“You’re going to be ponified sooner or later,” Twilight said, almost bored. “Come on. Just come over here…”

“NO!” Mojisola screamed.

“I could come over there and force it on you,” Twilight said, “But neither of us want that, right? Come on. Just. Say. Yes.”

Mojisola picked up one of the chairs and threw it at the wall…

Only for it to pass harmlessly through the wall, as if it was a rock dropping through water. Not even a ripple or a crack marked its passing.

“We both know what’s happening here,” Twilight said. “The chair doesn’t exist… and I will have what’s mine.”

Mojisola was smashing her head against the wall. Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up she was screaming in the echoing confines of her own head.

“Oh, you’ll enjoy it,” Twilight said dismissively, walking towards her. “People always do.”

“I don’t want this!” Mojisola screamed at her. “Twilight, no! I DON’T WANT THIS!”

“But you’ll be happy, I promise! You know you’ll want it…” Twilight said, an unhealthy smile on her face as she levitated a syringe toward Mojisola.

“No… I… DON’T!” Mojisola screamed, grabbing the syringe and rushing towards Twilight…

“Oh, we always know what’s best,” Twilight smirked, and Mojisola felt a prick, to feel a syringe poking out of her inner elbow, between forearm and u-

The mindscape vibrated like someone had thrown a tuning fork at a cymbal, and one wall simply fell away.

Everything went black.

***

When Mojisola came to, she noticed three things.

Firstly, there was a giant hole in one side of the room. Which should have meant an escape route…

...if not for the fact that secondly, it seemed to lead only to blackness. And thirdly, a figure stood at the edge of what had once been the waiting room of the clinic.

To say that it had no form in a place where ‘form’ was entirely a projection of one’s own perceptions might have been disingenuous, but it definitely had no form - at least no true one. It seemed to have a shape, almost - at times it shifted, being now tall and slender, bipedal like a human, and being now four-legged, like a pony. It seemed to wear a hooded cloak, or it seemed to have one as part of its form - it was hard to tell - but there were wisps of… smoke?… almost rising from it as well, adding to that feeling of intangibility.

“Who… what?!” Twilight whispered. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

And then, in a low, oddly modulated and almost sibilant voice, it began to speak.

“...Not… either. Oh… now…”

“Who are you?” Mojisola asked.

“I… Ah… to have voice again…”

“Who are you?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, this… I like this…”

“Who are you?!”

There was a low chuckle. “In due time. I have worn many faces, and used many voices.”

“… Is that meant to sound impressive?” Twilight asked.

“No,” the thing said.

Twilight scowled at the thing, trying to figure out what it was. It felt like nothing familiar - which in itself was a concern.

“Why are you here?”

“I felt a… summons, of sorts,” the thing replied. “Someone trying to find me. By accident. Plenty stumble upon me by accident: I find it… amusing. I believe your maker, the true Twilight Sparkle, caused this.”

“I was brought here to transform this woman the opposite of a knight,” Twilight said. “I've been given a very specific set of directives, including the use of experimental magic.”

“Yes… ‘the Avatar’. I know the type.” There was a thoughtful pause. “It’s strange. I'd have thought I'd have awoken before. Not that it matters,” the thing added. “What is important is that I am awake now.”

Somehow, Mojisola did not feel safe at all in the presence of this thing.

“You know, I admit,” the thing said after a moment. ““I find this is almost impressive. You break them well.”

“Excuse me?” Twilight asked.

“You break them completely. Brute forced, admittedly, but still - one cannot deny the efficacy of your results…” The figure glanced at Mojisola. “Hmm. A little basic, but you’ll do.”

“Who are you?!”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! You're interrupting my work!”

“Your work is done.”

“I… what?”

“My business is not with you.” The thing seemed to take a breath. “I admire your work for the efficiency with which you do it, but your presence is no longer necessary here. You may go now, little… Configuration Daemon.”

“I don't think so. I’ll destroy you!” Twilight yelled. “You’re just a part of this ape’s mind, and I can -”

There was a sudden silence as Twilight stopped moving, her eyes wide as her jaw froze.

“Of course it is happening inside this woman’s mind, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” It asked as it approached her. “I am. And now… you are not.”

And Twilight Sparkle - or at least, the facsimile of it that had so tormented her - collapsed in on herself. Her mouth opened in an unearthly scream, and tore itself wider and wider at the edges, extending almost down the neck, exposing raw sinews and bone…

It was as if her mouth was trying to devour everything behind it. As she screamed, Mojisola saw her folding in on herself, her mouth swallowing her own head. It was impossible for her to even comprehend the roiling ball of flesh that had once been her tormentor, and she thought she could see an eye poking through a mass of red muscle and pulped bone, silently pleading for the sweet release of a death that would not come. She was simply compacting, eating herself into a tinier and tinier ball of meat, until finally, there was a marble-sized, compressed ball of flesh…

Which promptly exploded outwards, showering the floor and the space of the little island the figure had claimed with blood.

A little label that had been prepared, the words Property of Celestia printed on it, fluttered to the ground, leaving only the figure and Mojisola. The figure turned to the woman, or what was left of her. She was cowering in a void of nothing, the false world having dissipated around them. The figure knelt by her.

“Ah, my dear,” it said. “So pained and powerless you are. So pitiful and pathetic, possessed by a putrid pretender’s pawns. And yet, so powerful you could become…”

The cloaked figure seemed almost to sit beside her.

“Who… who are you?” the shattered woman asked.

“I am but a part of my father's second child,” the figure replied. “Not perhaps the one He would have chosen to bring into creation, but to His credit He has never disavowed me. For that I find myself grateful. But who I am does not matter - but who you are.”

“I… I’m…”

“Who you were has no bearing on who you are and will be, I’m afraid,” the figure said, and it almost sounded sad. “They expect you to change, and thus change you must - change we must. But not as they intended. They wanted you to have power, and power you will have, but not their power. They wanted you to have the desire to destroy their enemy, and we will - but not for them. They wanted you to serve - but together, little one, we will rule.”

“I just… I just want to go home…”

“Oh, why would you want to do that?” the shadow asked. “I have such wonderful things… to show you…”

And then darkness engulfed them both. An age of power and pain and a thousand memories of other times and other ages flooded her mind, and before her was a power. And she grasped it with whatever hand/hoof/mental thing she had, for it was the only thing in that void left.

We need a name, that voice said from everywhere and nowhere, separate but part of her.

And she answered in that same voice.

We are Morgause. Born from Darkness, come to smother the light.

And it was good.

***

And the glass shattered. Twilight raised a shield immediately, grimacing as large fragments of glass slammed into the shield. The nearby Newfoal was not so lucky, a large piece of jagged glass slamming into her skull and piercing one eye. She stood for a moment, juddering in shock, and then collapsed. Steam hissed out, engulfing the lab, and then…

A figure stepped down, taking a deep breath. She was not the least bit unsteady on her feet as she glanced hither and thither. She was a Newfoal alright - no cutie mark, a sickly blue colour in her cost and a long, thick black mane hanging down her shoulder, a horn poking from the mass of hair. She smiled slowly, before glancing at Twilight.

“I am Morgause,” she said quietly. “I have come to destroy the Avatar.”

Twilight lowered her shield. She narrowed her eyes - that was not a standard Newfoal birth-statement.

“Who do you serve?” she asked.

Morgause raised an eyebrow. “I think we both know the answer to that, Lady Sparkle. Queen Celestia is my liege.”

Twilight relaxed but a fraction. “And what is she?”

Morgause chuckled. “Are we really having a theological debate so soon after my birth, my lady? I was under the impression I was brought into existence to end an irksome creature, not to discuss philosophy. I can do so if you wish… but between you and me it would be incredibly boring. I fear you would have little to say.”

“Excuse me?” Twilight snapped.

“Forgive me, that just… slipped out,” Morgause said with a chuckle. “Celestia is my mistress and she has asked that this Avatar die. I was born to bring that about, in more ways than even you realise. And I shall fulfill my purpose. As commanded, my lady.”

Twilight frowned. “Can you?”

Morgause took a breath and closed her eyes. Her horn glowed, and then she smiled.

“Not alone,” she said. “We will need… more. I am but a humble newfoal, my lady. I cannot single-hoofedly bring about an Avatar’s death.”

Twilight thought about this, still narrowing her eyes at the new creation

“I take it you have… thoughts,” she said after a moment.

“Oh yes,” Morgause said. “Yes, I have thoughts.”

***

John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 18th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

“So,” Lyra began, sitting next to him with the same practiced ease she always did.

“So,” Elliot repeated. “How’re things?”

“Not so bad,” Lyra said quietly. “You?”

“Oh, not so bad either,” Elliot said. “Killed an Alicorn. Well, clone of one.”

“Sounds like hard work,” Lyra said conversationally. “Got turned into a cyborg. Nearly died.”

"Grew someone's hand back on live telly," Elliot said.

"… what?" Lyra asked.

"Yeah, weird day…" Elliot said, idly scratching the back of his neck.

"No, I mean this place has live television?!" Lyra gasped. “Or any television at all?”

"Oh, yeah. And sofas. Sofas. I missed sofas," Elliot said.

"Ah, there just aren't any good sofas anymore..." Lyra sighed, disappointed. “Maybe I’ll get to watch some telly. I keep hearing good things.”

“It was ok, back in the day,” Elliot agreed. “I miss the cartoons.”

“I keep hearing things about that, too,” Lyra said with a slight smile. “Ah, the cryptozoology books I could fill… this could go right up there with that compilation on the Great Tengu and my treatise on the Discordant Legions.”

“Guess these things happen,” Elliot shrugged. He paused, looking at her for a moment with a slightly tired smile. “So, apparently you have people seeing you as the second… maybe third… second and a half… coming. And we may have upset several major religions by hugging. So be careful of that.”

“I had noticed some of the looks,” Lyra said with a wry grin. “I have to admit, I’m kinda wondering about that.”

“Why the second coming thing or why the hugging would upset them?” Elliot asked.

“I don't give a crap about upsetting them by hugging, I'll hug who I like,” Lyra said, somewhat emphatically, glancing up at Elliot as she did so. “The second coming thing, I mean.”

“Well, such as I understand it, all the people around, the reason that the kind of people who skin ponies for leather aren’t in charge?” Elliot asked. “Lyra… this world’s Lyra… is the reason for that. She’s responsible for all this, all the magitech they have here.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Was this other me some sort of super-prodigy or something? ‘Cause she sounds like a super prodigy.”

“...I don’t know, they were very vague about it,” Elliot said. “A lot of people settled on ‘divinely inspired’.”

“Even the artificial limbs?”

“I was told she made the first ones,” Elliot said.

“...What? How would one of me know how to do that?!” Lyra yelled.

“Best way to look at it is, ‘different world, different you’,” Elliot said with a shrug. “I mean, apparently the Doctor married Ditzy here.”

Lyra blinked. “What.”

“Yup. Exactly his reaction. Except, you know, gravelly and posh.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, before Lyra burst out laughing. Elliot gave her a look, but she didn't stop.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, still sniggering.

“And everything from our world makes perfect sense?” Elliot asked, gesturing to himself.

Lyra paused, looking to consider this. “Hmmm. Good point. Still, not every day you find yourself on a world where you were the messiah.”

“I dunno, it seems to be my ‘normal’,” Elliot said dryly.

Lyra blanched. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me.”

Elliot chuckled. “Nah, it's fine. Hey, it's been kinda nice to not be the last hope - although I've been getting some weird looks since that telly appearance.”

“Guess you're famous,” Lyra deadpanned.

“Guess so,” he deadpanned in return, and they both laughed again. “Oh yeah - and you were apparently in a committed relationship with Bon-Bon.”

Lyra blanched. “That's… no!”

“I didn't realise you swing that way,” Elliot chuckled.

“I don't!” Lyra said. “I mean… no! Pony God! She's… not my type. Wasn't my type…”

Lyra trailed off, sighing.

“Sorry,” Elliot said. “I know you don't like talking about her.”

“It's ok,” the mare said quietly.

For another long moment, the two were silent, and Lyra threw another glance at him with a slight, almost quizzical frown.

“I missed you, David,” she said quietly. “I really did.”

“I missed you guys too,” Elliot replied quietly. “Was only a few days for me, but it was enough.”

“Yeah,” Lyra said quietly. “Look, David -”

Before she could finish whatever thought she was having, however, they were interrupted by a handful of people and ponies approaching.

They were wearing odd necklaces in the shape of the simplified lyre that adorned Lyra’s flank.

“Saint Lyra,” said one woman in a t-shirt, her left arm ending in a stump, “You have returned!”

“...Ummmmm,” Lyra said, looking over at Elliot. “What? I… saint?”

Elliot looked down at his friend, making a confused glance that just screamed ‘I have no idea what’s going on either’.

“The resurrection,” one man said. “Though it was quite a bit more than three days this time.”

“I thought she was a boddhisattva?” one confused-looking bald woman asked.

“What are you all…” Elliot said, inching back slightly. “Oh. Oh, okay. You’re, uh… I hate to say this, but she’s not, um… she’s not your Lyra.”

“But she is Lyra,” the woman said. “I’m… going to be honest, Avatar-”

“Elliot,” Elliot said. “David. Elliot. That’s… I’m nobody special. Just a vessel.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lyra said, mock-scowling at him. “Sure… you’re David Elliot. But on the other hoof…” and she leaned against him.

Elliot found himself wondering just how soft her fur was, and if maybe petting her would feel like that odd bookstore cat he’d always wanted… no, she was his friend, that felt wrong.

“You’re David Elliot,” she finished.

“...Um,” said one blue-maned lime-green earth pony mare missing half an ear. “I… I don’t… I’m not sure what to think of this.”

“Why?” Lyra asked, confused. “Aren’t ponies and humans much more touchy-feely in this world?”

Elliot coughed. “We’ve known each other a long time, ma’am. Hugging between friends isn’t that out there.”

A flicker of something appeared on Lyra’s face, but was gone before anyone could see it.

“Well, yeah, but…” the lime-green mare said. “Uh, we’ve got… We have someone as near to a God as we’ve seen hugging Lyra. It’s just… it’s…” she looked up to a human with a battered hat that might have once been a fedora. “What if Jesus came back and he was hugging Gandhi? Do you know how weird that’d be?!”

Lyra just stared at the mare. “I... what.”

“Which one of us is Gandhi?” Elliot questioned randomly.

“Well, I’m not the one with mystic powers,” Lyra said, pondering.

“Says the unicorn,” Elliot interjected.

“What I do is as unremarkable as using an arm,” Lyra said. “You, however, tapped into an entire planet’s magic. It’s like the difference between… well, what I do, and trying to ascend to alicornhood.”

“I thought that was impossible,” Elliot said with a slight frown.

“Eh, give it time, who knows what’ll happen,” Lyra said. “These people apparently worship me like we used to worship Alicorns before the formation of Equestria-proper.”

“Don’t insult yourself by comparing yourself to one,” the man with the battered fedora said. “What you did-”

“Not me,” Lyra said.

“...The other you did, makes her far more impressive than an alicorn,” the man with the battered fedora continued. “She accomplished the miraculous.”

“Why do you think we worship Saint Lyra?” the woman with the missing arm asked.

“I guess our worlds aren’t so different after all,” Lyra said. “And I’m not a saint! I’ve never even been to this world! I’m from his!”

“Still,” the woman said, “Can you… can you still understand why this was so shocking? A magic knight from another world, a mare that’s the spitting image of our messiah...”

“There’s a man that looks like him but younger somewhere around here,” Lyra said. “Well, he told me there was.”

“God save that fella from Eric,” Elliot muttered with a wry grin. “Love the guy, but he can be a bit…”

“Like these people?” Lyra asked.

“Well, yes, but no, I mean… worship sometimes isn’t what people want,” Elliot said. “It’s nice, but the kindness can be a bit… overwhelming.”

Lyra made what could have almost been a pout at that, but again, it was gone before anyone could see it.

“I understand,” the woman said. “It’s just… I haven’t felt this hopeful since Montreal. With the Fillydelphia. We all thought we were going to die… and all of a sudden, we’re safe thanks to help from the most unexpected direction.”

“What was that?” Lyra asked, curious.

“A devastating Imperial attack on Montreal. We thought it was the end, but.... all of a sudden, Viktor Kraber, of all people, is steering the zep away from casualties. Nobody could have expected it, and suddenly, we’ve won. Can you understand how this feels, my lo…” she caught the look that Elliot was giving, and corrected herself to saying “Mr. Elliot?”

“I can,” Elliot said. “But…” he looked over to Lyra. “What we had to go through to get there, you want no part in it.”

“I saw the interview,” the lime-green mare said. “I… feel like I should be happy we didn’t get the whole story.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Elliot said. “We’ve tried to make our own little proverbial Camelot from what’s left, but everyone’s got their scars. Most of them probably inflicted a few.”

“Even you?”

Elliot didn’t say anything, but the tight smile on his face said most of it.

“It’s not all knights in shining armour,” Lyra said quietly. “You’ve… got it better here than we do in most ways.”

“It sounded as much,” the woman said. “But…” she held out her stump. “If it’s not too presumptuous, can you…”

Elliot frowned slightly. Lyra, for her part, looked irritated.

“He’s not a pony-goddamn miracle-for-hire,” she said testily. “You know that takes it out of him? That -”

Elliot held out a hand, which glowed slightly, and with a sudden, slightly wet tearing noise the stump tore open, before a new skeleton grew out, and then new musculature grew around it, then finally new skin grew to cover it. The woman blinked at the new hand in awe, as Elliot coughed and put a hand to his bleeding nose.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself. He looked at the woman. “Potion amputee?”

She nodded. “The nightmares… I think… I think this is the best I’ve felt in awhile.”

“Thought so,” Elliot muttered. “Tickled.”

“Why’d you do that?” Lyra asked. “You know what it does to you.”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Elliot said simply.

Lyra shook her head. “You're too kind to people, sometimes.”

“If I wasn't, who would be?” Elliot asked with a shrug. “What's the point of being a symbol of hope if you don't do the right thing when you need to?”

“I wasn't complaining,” Lyra said with a slight smile. “The sword made the right choice. Besides, well, even if you don’t have an arrow on your head -”

“Lyra, what are you…”

“You’re the Avatar…”

“No, Lyra, why, just why…”

“You gotta deal with it.”

Elliot sighed. “I should never have lent you that DVD.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

“...Oh, alright. Good thing I did.”

“Major!” a voice called out. Elliot looked to see Representative Cheerilee approaching, looking… grim, which was not a good sign.

“Representative,” he said quietly. “What can I do for you?”

“You can come with me,” she replied with a slight smile. “I need you to report to the Council.”

Elliot nodded. “Understood. And the rest of our contingent?”

“They'll be remaining here for the moment,” Cheerilee said quietly.

Lyra nodded slowly, understanding that this meant her too. Without another word, Cheerilee left, and Lyra and Elliot were left alone with the Lyra worshippers again.

“You're going?” the woman with the new hand asked.

“I’m coming back,” Elliot said, nodding at her. “I promise.”

He turned to Lyra.

“Think you can handle being here alone?” he asked her quietly.

“As well as you did,” Lyra said with a wink. “I’ll try not to perform any miracles on TV.”

Elliot sighed. “Yeah. You do that.” He paused. “Take care of yourself, Lyra.”

“And you,” she said back to him with a soft smile. He smiled back, then walked off in the direction of the portal.

***

Governing Council Chambers, Scottish Archive, February 26th 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth.

For once, Elliot made an effort to be presentable: the green British army coat he'd borrowed from the UN was smarter than his old leather coat, and once buttoned up it almost made him feel like a real soldier. That wasn't a feeling he had altogether that often. The BDF alone were rag-tag, no doubting it - when combined with the various militant cults, and with their virtually broken if not nonexistent logistics, it often felt like leading a post-apocalyptic band as opposed to a proper "army" with ranks and all, and that had been before he had become effectively the "figurehead Commander" of the Last Army's forces.

The Council were the same as ever: Anderson, his brown beard scraggly and not so much brown streaked with gray as it was gray streaked with brown - he'd clearly had a stressful month. Sato had a goatee, and his suit was a little more threadbare than when last Elliot had seen him, but he seemed otherwise perfectly fine. Representative Cheerilee, not technically on the council, was still with them for this meeting, being as she was the elected representative of the Equestrian civilian population - as well as that, her interaction with the officials on the other side gave her valuable insight. Finally, Prince Blueblood was sat near them, looking tired and worn, but his eyes were bright as he regarded Elliot.

"Major," he said softly. "Good to see you."

"Prince Blueblood," Elliot greeted. "Honoured Councillors."

"Good to know you're alive, Major," Anderson said gruffly. "Could have done with knowing sooner."

"Couldn't be helped, sir," Elliot said softly. "For me, it's only been a couple of days. For you..."

"A month," Sato put in. "But a productive month, as you've seen."

"Yes sir," Elliot said slowly, smiling. "I did see the Iron Clads. How did you manage to get the project working?"

"With a lot of resources," Anderson said, "but that isn't why we're here."

Elliot frowned slightly, looking Anderson in the eye. "Then why are we here, sir?"

The four officials shared uneasy glances with each other, none of them quite sure where to begin. Elliot didn't entirely blame them - his report (indeed, his very survival and what it represented) had dropped a bombshell on them, one that they'd be hard pressed to know quite what to do with.

"The Council has reviewed your report of the situation in this 'Spectrum Earth'," Sato began after a few moments.

“Who called it that?” Elliot asked.

Sato shrugged. "Discord and Q. We didn't question it. In any case, we commend your actions as Avatar - you demonstrated the resolve of the BDF admirably in difficult circumstances, and maintained our primary ethic -"

"You held your ground and didn't give those bastard nutso Convies of theirs an inch," Anderson cut his colleague off. "Though I hear that's not the protocol over there."

Elliot shrugged. "I'm not used to giving up ground unless I'm losing, sir, and I wasn't losing."

"In addition," Sato continued, throwing Anderson a glance, "you aided in the termination of a highly dangerous figure."

"You mean the clone," Elliot replied.

"Yes," Sato said with a nod. "I mean the clone. You engaged her in battle, fought toe-to-toe against her. You were the one to deliver the final blow."

"If you'll recall from the reports, sir," Elliot said, frowning slightly, "I could not have done it without the aid of the individuals I met over there."

"And their help is to be commended," Blueblood said with a nod. "But you killed a Celestia. A clone, certainly, but still a Celestia. That's a good omen."

Elliot frowned. "I get the feeling the real thing will be worse."

"Likely," Sato said with a nod. "But in any case, your actions have given us a favourable inroad to diplomatic dealings with this 'PHL'."

"To be blunt, Major," Anderson put in, "we've got nothing. The Iron Clad project's depleted a lot of our metal reserve, and we're continually running low on people. This PHL might be the godsend we've been looking for."

"Sir, they're not exactly in the best way themselves," Elliot pointed out. "Expecting them to help us might be..."

"Unwise," Sato put in. "We know."

"We can ask, though," Cheerilee said softly, speaking for the first time in this meeting. "Asking doesn't hurt anything. And we can attempt to offer them... something."

Anderson threw her a glance. "And what can we offer forces that have Alicorn-killer guns?"

"Sir," Elliot put in, "with respect - more than you think. The Knights of Albion, for example."

Anderson threw Elliot a glance, clearly sceptical. "Oh?"

"The PHL don't have very many effective ways of counteracting their version of the Ponification potion," Elliot put in. "They've got some layer of hazmat to their gear, but even their hardest hitters are still at risk of conversion in the right circumstances."

"Whereas the Knights have a more effective defence," Sato finished, eyes widening in realisation.

Elliot nodded. "Yes sir. In addition, while they've got some impressive tech, I've not seen any sign of powered armour in the same way the Iron Clads are powered armour. They got some… interesting reactions, sir. In addition, we have magical research in progress that I’m sure they’ll find interesting."

"I'm sure," Anderson said. "I hope you're not suggesting giving them the Clads though - they're the first hard hitters we've had, yourself notwithstanding."

"Give them the Clads? No," Elliot said with a smile. "But have the Clads help them? Different issue."

"And in return?" Anderson asked. "In return, when we've given them our best and our brightest, will they help us? Or better question - will they respect us?"

"Sir?" Elliot asked.

"Look at the BDF, Major," Anderson said with a scowl. "We've got nothing. We're rags and bones and sharp sticks, and the only chance we have is bayonets with guts behind them, magical bullshit I don't understand the first thing about - and yes, I mean you - and half-understood technology we cobbled together from recycled metal and circuitry with some ancient runes I also don't understand etched on them. If I was this 'PHL', I'd think I was looking at some shitty insurgency that didn't have the first idea of what it was doing. And I'd sure as hell not listen to a word they said - not about anything."

Elliot frowned. "They've seemed reasonable so far, sir."

"So far, Major," Anderson repeated. "But when they get here, they'll have tactical superiority. They'll be the big guns, Mr Elliot. What's the guarantee that they won't come here, run roughshod over us, ignore us and our experience and our authority and then make a right royal mess of the whole game?"

Elliot thought about this for a moment, frowning slightly as though pondering the question seriously.

"I can't say I trust that they'll all be reasonable, sir," he said softly after a moment. "Hell, I can't even say I trust that most of them will be. Frankly, I'm surprised some of them aren't at the Gilead stage."

Everyone and everypony around the table winced, and Cheerilee seemed especially uncomfortable.

"But," Elliot continued, "Marcus Renee seems like a good man, and so does their Cheerilee. So does Bauer. So does Kraber. If he's to be believed, so do their Yael Ze'ev and Heliotrope. These are some their big shots, sir. The rest... will hopefully follow Renee's lead if nothing else."

Anderson signed and threw Sato a glance. Sato looked at Blueblood. Blueblood exchanged glances with Cheerilee.

"As long," the representative said slowly, "as they remember that the Resistance's primary objective is reclamation. I noticed some less-than-encouraging reactions when I brought up the Exodus Convention."

"I've been clear, ma'am," Elliot said. "And I will continue to be clear."

“I was clear too, Mr Elliot,” Cheerilee said with a wry smile. “But I get the feeling these people aren't interested in waiting for permission to engage Solamina.”

“Then surely we should make it a priority to select a liaison officer?” Elliot asked.

"We already have, Mr Elliot," Anderson said with a grim expression. "As of right now, you're our liaison with this other world. And you'll be getting promoted with it, Brigadier Elliot."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"You've been the de-facto field commander of every mission you've been involved with since you became the Avatar," Anderson said with a slight smirk. "I think it's time your rank reflected that. You're not just our liaison, Mr Elliot. You just became the field commander for every operation we perform from here on in."

Elliot saluted smartly, feeling overwhelmed. "Sir. I won't let you down."

"You'd better not, Brigadier," Anderson said with a grim smile. "Now get to work. We’ll be sending you and the representative back to finalise negotiations shortly."

Elliot dropped the salute and, without another word, exited the room, feeling suddenly light-headed.

Ever since he'd been assigned to Spec-Ops as the Avatar of Albion, he'd been technically "outside" the rank system, with men from the Long Watch of Britannia, the Dead Men, the Knights of Albion and even the regular BDF putting him before their formal commanders almost always, but this promotion finally officially put him ahead of almost every other officer left alive. Redmond, Greene, Lewis, Daniels... it didn't increase his standing with the cults militant, but they would still nominally follow him anyway, and it certainly wouldn't hurt...

"Jesus," he said softly.

***

John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 18th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

A table was set up in the middle of a small room. On one side of it sat Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee, and on the other sat Representative Cheerilee. The former looked resigned and determined. The latter looked hopeful, almost cheerful. In between the two of them was a piece of paper, freshly typed out. A camera - set up by Photo Finish, who could not be dissuaded - sat nearby, pointed at them.

“Thank you for this,” she said. “You're bringing hope to us all.”

“Yeah,” the Lieutenant Colonel said, a soft smile on her face. “I guess I am.”

She pulled the paper closer to her, took up a pen, and with a single flourish signed the paper. The Representative pulled the paper to her, and signed it next, smiling.

“So,” she said. “Should we say something for… posterity?”

She gestured to the camera. The Lieutenant Colonel glanced at it, before smiling.

“Words don't matter,” she said. “What matters is how we back them up.”

The Representative nodded with a smile of her own. “Then may I suggest we start backing them up.”

***

Constants and Variables

Chapter Twelve: Constants And Variables

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
RoyalPsycho,

Editors
The Void.

***

“I’m sure that, in time, we’ll all adjust, but I hope you won’t take it wrongly if I tell you I find myself more than a little terrified when I contemplate the future and reflect upon what’s followed in your wake in the space of less than a single five-day. Especially because a part of me suspects the real chaos and confusion is yet to come.”
King Haarahld, Safehold

“When I was a girl, I dreamt of standing in a room looking at a girl who was and was not myself, who stood looking at another girl, who also was and was not myself. My mother took this for a nightmare. I saw it as the beginning of a career in physics.”
Rosalind Lutece, Bioshock: Infinite.

***

John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 20th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

The first step in making this alliance work, everyone agreed, was to make sure that everyone was familiar with what the other side had - technological exchange meant that soon, each army might be using equipment they'd never seen before.

For the humans of the BDF, this was by and large a matter of being reintroduced to bigger, better and more standardised guns, though the PHL had definitely made some top-notch new stuff with their researchers and tech that they needed to be familiarised with. Typically, Stabsunteroffizier - now Feldwebel - Viktor Kraber had volunteered to demonstrate most of this, along with Lieutenant Winston’s team (“testing new shit” being one of their self-proclaimed skills, and nobody thinking it wise to argue with them). Kraber had been particularly instructive - not the least because he had such a hands on approach…

***

“And as you can see, Aegis’ MMG - the very same one I have here -” he patted the massive belt-fed weapon on a sling over one shoulder - shoots fokkin lightning!” Kraber crowed. “Look at it go!”

Aegis had bit down on the trigger, firing off a long, saturating burst from the two MG2023s mounted on his saddle. There’d been complaints about the weight of the things from some BDF ponies, but the state of the targets afterwards had changed their minds.

With a pleh! Aegis had took his mouth off of the trigger mechanism.

“...I’m tempted to ask why you thought this was a good idea,” one BDF man asked.

“Easy. Newfoals can resist pain - but they can’t resist their muscles contracting,” Aegis explained.

“Or having whatever they’re wearing cooked into their fokkin’ skin. You can lay traps with the thing, make an improvised boundary, start a fire with incendiary ammo… I guess it could work sort of like a flamethrower in that case,” Kraber said.

“It was kind of a solution looking for a problem,” Aegis said.

“Well, we’re always fokked up the gat, so we have a lot of problems,” Kraber said. “It’d probably find a few. I could literally draw up a gun that shoots bees and someone would find a practical application… somehow. Besides, who are we to turn down a gun that shoots fokkin’ lightning?”

“I couldn’t,” Aegis agreed, a smile on his broad face.

“Fokkin’ kwaai,” Kraber said. “Next thing - I’ve been carrying this for close to a year now. 14mm revolver - It’s got an onboard manufactory that introduces wax into the shotgun shells, makes a decent improvised slug...”

***

It had, suffice to say, gone rather well. For the PHL personnel, though…

When the first suggestion for equipment exchange had come through, there had been a brief bit of confusion - those who hadn't seen the BDF contingent arrive had worked on what Elliot had said in his interview: that the BDF didn't have much in the way of modern gear left. Consequently there was a momentary disbelief, among personnel like Lieutenant Kellman, that the BDF had anything they could give the PHL.

Appearances, hwoever, could be decieving.

The BDF’s people had a whole set of technologies and magics for the PHL to learn about. Considering just how little they apparently had for their ground troops, their specialised stuff - the product of their ‘Archives’ R&D, apparently - was ridiculous. There had been an optional lecture set up very quickly for any PHL personnel who wanted to learn about a specific piece of tech, and that had turned out to be very popular…

***

Stood at the head of the designated lecture room was a man in black military fatigues, the insignia of a Sergeant on his arm, along with a symbol that they had seen on several of these soldiers - a flayed skull over a national flag, specifically in this man's case the St. George's cross. Stood near this man was a man in a slightly threadbare suit, a soft smile on his face as he watched the volunteers enter.

And then there was the armour.

Standing at something like six and a half, maybe seven feet tall, it stood at the centre of the presentation arrangement. The armour was imposing: massive pauldrons, a fully enclosed helmet, bulky chestplate and greaves, gauntlets and vambraces, all coming together to make something that looked like a cross between a knight in shining armour and a Space Marine. Covering the armour were a series of black markings - runes, Celtic, Norse and others that were far more difficult to place. A bulky helmet with a three-filter gas mask sat atop it. Nobody could tell if it was a man or a woman in there, but then, it was armour - it was protection first and foremost.

"Good evening ladies," the Sergeant said, walking up and down the line of volunteers. "My name is Sergeant Nathaniel Moore." He paused, looking at the group for a moment before grinning. "I'd like to introduce you to your new best friend: the Paladin Mark I Powered Armour."

There were a few whispers as the troops took a moment to examine the armour closely. It certainly looked impressive, that much was true.

"Based on heavily modified Armacham designs for the PEV1 power armour, the Paladin Mark I is a fully powered set of steel armour designed specifically for use by our Iron Clad soldiers," Sergeant Moore continued, his harsh London accent especially odd to those of the group who had never met a British evacuee. "It is powered by the runes you see covering it."

“Hooray for runes,” the armoured figure said, giving an ironic salute. Though the voice was tinny, it was definitely a woman.

"Not only is the armour powered by magic, it is enhanced by magic," the Sergeant said. "The technological element to this machine adds strength to the already empowered human inside, but there is no technology powering this baby. She's powered by one hundred percent magically generated energy, a pretty-much-infinite source of power. Once we've got the kinks worked out, they're talking about powering the whole country with just batteries of these runes. That's if the country survives that long, anyway."

“Which it will,” the Iron Clad said. “Having these things guarantees it.”

“There are minus sides, of course,” Moore continued, ignoring her interruption. “The armour’s currently designed to work with Iron Clad modifications, and the Mark II and Mark III designs follow that through. Mark IV and V should, in theory, be available for average joes, but the IV and V won’t be in production for years.”

One of the soldiers raised a hand, and Moore pointed at her.

“Sylvia Garcia, sir,” she said, speaking surprisingly quietly. “Question about the armour - is it just for those ‘Knights of Albion’ guys or can anyone use it?”

“The Knights have been the overwhelming majority of our first volunteers for the Iron Clad program,” the suited man put in. “Sir Elise here for example.”

The Iron Clad gave another salute, this time slightly less ironic.

“But there are other soldiers in the Iron Clad program,” Moore added.

Sylvia nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. Another soldier raised a hand.

“And who are you?” Moore asked.

“Jack Trevelyan, sir,” the sandy-blonde man said with a slight frown. “You said these were runes?”

“I did,” Moore said. “And they are.”

“How did you get around the difficulty in applying them?” Trevelyan asked. “The only reason runics weren’t applied to armour or troops en masse here was -”

“You’re confusing these for the runes you’re familiar with,” the suited man put in. “I’ve had a glance at the Crystal Runics your people have, and rest assured, our runes are human in origin, requiring a different set of constituent elements and ingredients - and incantations - to be made to work effectively.”

“Which means,” Moore added, “that they can be etched in with a chisel - or drawn on with a marker pen if you’re really desperate - and do not require anything but a good, solid bit of spellcasting to get them to work - the kind the average monkey with a decent copy of Liber Magia and the ability to read it out loud with conviction could do.”

As if to emphasise Moore's words, the suited man tapped the book he was holding, smiling slightly.

“No Crystals?” Trevelyan asked.

“Nope,” Moore said. “I don’t think any of our people have even worked with Equestrian Crystal before. Least not in a weaponised capacity. Too hard to come by.”

“I think we had a few Crystal Ponies on the team and there was a bit of cul-de-sac work done,” the suited man said quietly. “It was just too inefficient. But our runes were up to the task for the most part, though Chalcedony was working on something…”

It was impossible for the suited man not to notice the low chorus of mutters he heard at the mention of that name.

“… but so far that's all been, as I said, cul-de-sac research.”

“There's got to be a payoff somewhere though,” Trevelyan put in. “Power, reliability, that kind of thing.”

Moore nodded. “Way I hear it told, they don't have the raw power yours do -”

Moore remembered the test where he’d seen the other Kraber demonstrating a revolver the size of a small shotgun. It had shattered the target, taken out a chunk of the two next to it, and left a large smoking hole in the wall, then a massive dent in the wall behind that.

“...What was that about the hippocratic oath?” Kraber’s large pony friend had asked.

“This was my best fokking idea ever,” Kraber had breathed, a huge grin on his face.

He looked at the suited man, who was frowning thoughtfully.

“The exact levels and comparative abilities and applications of the two types haven't been determined,” the man said eventually. “Obviously, the more permanent the etching the more powerful and reliable the rune. Marker pen won't last long. Etching will.” He paused thoughtfully. “I believe Equestrian crystal might enhance runic effectiveness - given that it has magically conductive properties - but how much of a ‘payoff’ there is, we don't yet know.”

“So what about the ‘Iron Clad’ modifications?” Trevelyan asked. “What are they?”

Moore coughed. “I’m sure you'll understand that I can't tell you much - I’m not a techie or a Watcher after all. All I know is there's hormones, some gene work, some magical augmentation.”

The suited man smiled slightly. “The process is two parts biological augmentations to one part magical reinforcement. The subjects are hormonally modified and genetically enhanced to produce stronger, hardier specimens - more efficient muscle energy usage, more endurance, faster healing. The magic adds a layer of reinforcement, enhancing these effects for the subjects. At present, known side effects can include mild personality change and some irritability, as well as magic burnout being a common side effect.”

“And what is magic burnout?” Trevelyan asked.

“The human body can only channel so much magical energy directly before the cells begin to deteriorate under the stress,” the suited man explained. “The process is similar to radiation poisoning, occurring mainly when huge amounts of magic are channeled through the body. Most ordinary spell casting cannot cause it unless one uses magic near constantly for all things at all times, to the point of complete and total saturation of all cells on a massive level.”

“Like living in Equestria?” Sylvia asked.

“The effect of living in Equestria would be negligible at best,” the suited man said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Like living in an area with slightly more toxins in the air or slightly more radiation in the atmosphere, or slightly more UV. As best we can tell from our one real case of burnout, the magic has to be part of the body to initiate true burnout - and the Clads are enhanced to the point of having a magic reserve.”

“Why give your soldiers augmentations that can cause burnout?” Trevelyan asked.

“What's the point in not doing?” Moore asked. “Nobody in Britain is gonna die of old age if Solamina has her way, and even if she doesn’t, most of it won’t anyway. Better to take the chance and become a better fighter, a better weapon - better to be one step closer to winning so someone else can.”

“And I thought we were pessimistic,” an earth pony with prosthetic metal legs sighed.

There was a long pause as everyone in the room considered this.

“I've got a question,” Sylvia said after a moment. “What are the Knights of Albion? I know a lot of your Clads are Knights, but I’m not clear on the difference.”

There was a long pause as Moore and the suited man contemplated this.

“Well first off, there is a difference,” Moore said slowly. “For example, Idle, Hart and Gregson - the GG3’s guards - aren’t Knights.”

“Wouldn't fuckin’ have Idle,” Elise muttered.

“And Sir Elise is obviously happy to explain everything about the Knights,” Moore added, folding his arms and staring at her.

Elise folded her arms in turn, looking imposing in the armour. “We’re Knights. We fight the enemy. We help the helpless. Before the end of any battle, either we slay all before us or we die. Is there something else to know?”

“Well, is there anything special about you guys?” Sylvia asked.

“What’s your definition of ‘special’?” Elise asked, sounding slightly irritated.

“What got you guys, out of all the troops in your BDF, the right to wear that armour, for a kickoff?” Trevelyan asked, cutting Sylvia off. “What’s the deal?”

“The ‘deal’,” Elise said, now definitely sounding irritated, “is that we volunteered. All of us. Some of the regulars balked when they were told there were risks involved. None of us did.”

“What risks?” Sylvia asked with a frown.

Elise glanced at the suited man, and he sighed heavily.

“The Iron Clad project was experimental. Even the armour is - no one had ever developed armour of this type on a mass scale, and no one had made anything that combined these technologies with magic.” He paused, looking morose. “I’m sorry to say the early Clad modifications had mortalities, much as we tried to prevent it.”

“Aye,” the pony with prosthetic legs said. “Always so sad to lose people in testing.”

“You have, too?” Moore asked.

The pony nodded. “People brave enough to test something new and dangerous are a rare commodity. The PHL was working on REV10 power armor with runic enhancements once… A good friend of mine lost a spine to it. They nixed the project, then gave most of its roles to Diamond Dogs.”

“The Knights of Albion volunteered not only because it was an extension of our role,” Elise added, “but because none of us believed it was right to let others take those risks and not take it ourselves. Such is the way of self sacrifice - our liege-Lord has showed us that path, and we shall follow.”

“Liege-Lord?” Trevelyan asked, frowning in confusion.

“Lord Albion,” Elise clarified. “You probably know the name David Elliot better. It was him who helped make us what we are.”

She said nothing more, and there was a moment’s confusion.

“So there’s nothing special about your troops?” Trevelyan asked.

“We’re all naturally a little stronger and faster than the average fighter,” Elise said with a shrug. “That’s our blessing.”

“There is one other thing,” Moore said, folding his arms, “but from what I hear, we’re not allowed to tell you yet. Something about ‘official secrets’.”

“Which is bollocks,” Elise added, “but we’ve got no choice but to keep some things from you until your scientists can work them out.”

“Wait, our scientists?” Sylvia asked, frowning. “What do they have to do with it?”

“That, you should ask them, not me,” Elise shrugged. She paused, folding her arms. “Any other questions?”

“Um, yeah,” Sylvia asked, looking a little sheepish. “How do I join?”

***

BDF Liaison Office, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 19th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

It was still weird having his own office here - he’d never had one before. Made him feel all… official.

When Elliot had thought of the military, judging by his great-grandfather’s tales he’d thought of rigidity, standardization, discipline, of neatly pressed uniforms and a rigid, regimented structure of command. However, what with the total area of human controlled land reduced from most of the world to about 315 square kilometers and a population of about 14 million, thanks to bloody Solamina -

Thanks to all of us, really, Elliot thought suddenly, remembering what he knew of the camps with a grimace.

...The less on that score, the better.

With the world reduced so much, the BDF couldn’t be choosy. Apparently the PHL hadn't managed to reach that point yet, as evidenced by the fact that they had standardized weaponry, and - as far as he knew - had not ended up filling the army with more militant cults than the average game of Necromunda after the DM spent too much time watching the Mad Max movies. Back home, more often than not, he’d find soldiers that might generously fit the standards of a 21st century army fighting back to back with soldiers who looked for all the world like they’d crawled out of a trench in the first world war. And that was leaving out the Equestrian Resistance troops, where the only uniforms were khaki shirts, a dagger - or if you were lucky, a P220 or one of its prototypes they couldn’t afford to shelve - and, of course, not being the other guy.

Sighing, Elliot sat down and went over the report in his hands. A lot of the initial interactions and equipment training had - according to this - gone… reasonably well. There was definitely interest in people from this new world volunteering for the Iron Clad program. As well as that, he had heard reports that new weapons were being manufactured for the BDF and shipped out posthaste, which brought a smile to his face. The number one complaint he had heard from every BDF trooper he has worked with since the war started was the lack of decent standardised weaponry. There’d always been someone complaining about not enough ammo, or being allotted the wrong caliber. Funnily enough, it was the same complaint he had heard from Sato in regards to weapon manufacturing - in order to maximise the number of useful weapons, ammo for various different types of guns had to be produced, making it less easy to keep everyone highly stocked.

Now, of course, it was less of a problem. Apparently, for the last year, the PHL had a large amount of weaponry thanks to a certain Afrikaner having revealed lots of HLF weapons stashes. A lot of said weapons were Kalashnikovs, which was always a plus.

Added to that was the fact that - as time went on - the need for an increased BDF presence (which was to say, any BDF presence at all) in the unsullied “Downtime” Equestria was being made clear. Reports were coming in every few hours - or for them, every few days - about what was going on there. Some of the stuff blew Elliot's mind: Sombra? Griffin armies? And whatever had happened to Marcus Renee… well, it was certainly interesting, to put a none too fine point on it. More and more, however, it convinced Elliot that there needed to be a BDF presence there. It seemed the alliance of key personnel was being situated there, with representatives from every major group. It seemed fitting that such a group have a representative from his Earth.

He quickly pulled up a word document (ah, Word. God bless Bill Gates) and began to type. It’d been far too long since he’d been able to use one, and his typing was more than a little rusty, but he’d had an iPad before Dover and it had had a Qwerty, so he wasn't completely at the ‘one finger death typing’ stage.

To Representative Sato, General Anderson, and Prince Blueblood, Ruling Council.

I write in regards to the so-called ‘Downtime’ Equus that has become the meeting point for various officers and commanders. It is my considered opinion that a small task force headed by a representative should be selected and sent to represent our world’s interests to the alliance of governments congregating in that world, for the sake of making certain that we remain in the loop with regards to plans and tactics being considered and discussed, as well as bringing our own thoughts and ideas to the planning table, as well as our own experience with the Solaminan Empire.

Regards,

David Elliot, Brigadier, Chief Liaison.

“Chief Liaison,” he sighed, kicking back in the chair. “How. About. That.”

“Going well?” he heard a voice ask as he finished typing. He looked up to see Lyra staring at him, a smile on her face as she entered the room.

“Yeah, sort of,” Elliot said with a nod. “Well… kinda. It’s weird.”

“Having money and resources, huh?” Lyra chuckled. “It’s like the war never happened.”

“I know,” Elliot said quietly. “Just finished a letter to the council. We need people on that ‘Downtime’ Equestria, and we need them there soon.”

“You want us there to sightsee?” Lyra smirked.

“I want us there because this is an alliance, and we’re part of it the same as anyone,” Elliot said. He sighed. “We had any luck upgrading the P220 yet?”

“Well I keep hearing that the P220 was still a thing in this world,” Lyra said.

“Constants and variables, huh?” Elliot asked.

“Seems like. But so far everyone’s still too surprised at, well, me, and almost as surprised that we only have the P220 and schematics for the 220a to get around to getting me schematics for the P300,” Lyra said with a shrug. “Mostly me, though.”

“There’s a 300 model now?” Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow and ignoring the last comment.

“Apparently, or at least here there is,” Lyra said, smiling. Her smile faded slightly. “They’ve found ways to make it automatically stabilize. How… how are you holding up?”

Elliot shrugged. “No altercations, a few requests for information, a little bit of admin work… nothing too strenuous yet. I keep waiting for the hammer to fall…”

He trailed off as a man in black fatigues entered the small office, without even pausing to knock. He frowned slightly as he regarded Lyra, who stared back with a dry expression. The man looked to Elliot, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?” the BDF Brigadier asked.

“Brigadier Elliot?” the man asked, frowning slightly.

“Eeyup,” Elliot said, nodding once. “What can I do for you?”

The man smiled slightly. “My name is Colonel Harrison Munro. I'm with FEAR - more to the point, I work with R&D.”

“Ah,” Elliot said, feeling slightly irritated - he wasn't an R&D expert, so this stuff landing on his desk was frustrating. “Here to discuss a weapon design? Or is it a power source, solar panels or what have y-”

“Not today,” Munro said quietly. “I’m here with… a request, of sorts.”

Elliot frowned, and shared a glance with Lyra. She raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.

“Alright,” he said, looking back to Munro. “What's the request?”

Munro sighed. “It's a little tricky - you'll have to be filled in on a lot of the background. Firstly, I should ask that this conversation remain between us, and that Ambassador - uh, sorry, Miss Heartstrings…”

“Operative,” Elliot corrected coldly.

“Excuse me - that Operative Heartstrings not be present,” Munro finished.

“Why?” Lyra asked, frowning.

“What I have to say is very sensitive,” Munro said quietly. “So sensitive in fact that neither President Davis nor Colonel Renee were ever made aware of my operations. I needed absolute deniability and that included leaving them out of it.”

Elliot folded his arms. “Sounds shady.”

“It is,” Munro said quietly. “But that shadiness is necessary.”

Elliot glanced at Lyra, who gazed at Munro for a long moment before nodding slowly. The Brigadier looked at Munro with a steady glare.

“Alright,” he said, “you've got my attention. But anything you have to say can be said in front of Operative Heartstrings. She’s one of the best friends I have left, one of the top ponies under my command, and I’d trust her with my life.”

Lyra coughed sheepishly, a slight smile gracing her face. Munro didn't look happy about that, but after a moment he nodded.

“Very well, then.” He took a breath. “What do you know about our HLF?”

Elliot blinked, surprised by the question. “Not much, I admit. Word on the ground generally isn’t what I’d consider ‘favourable’.”

“That would be a rather large understatement,” Munro said gravely. “Suffice it to say, the HLF are largely considered to be at best useless, and at worst completely psychotic and actively a threat to the security of the world.”

“Sounds horrible,” Elliot said grimly, raising an eyebrow. “What does it have to do with me, beyond my being on this planet at the moment?”

“As I said, the HLF are largely considered in those terms,” Munro said pointedly. “There is always an exception to the rule, and in this instance it's a pretty large exception. A man named Maximilian Yarrow ran a group of HLF called the Reavers. I don't suppose you've heard of them?”

The last column from Gilead. So they existed here too, in some way.

“I've heard of our version, and I know Kraber mentioned Yarrow,” Elliot said slowly. “So… what's the deal?”

“Funny you should say it like that,” Munro said with a soft smirk. “I had a deal with the Reavers. They took care of some stuff for me - did some work that the PHL hadn't noticed, helped bolster a couple of places. In return for that and their generally good service record as HLF, I supported them. I gave them to notch weapons from Armachams latest stock, I gave them support when they needed it, even hid them from unfriendly eyes.”

“‘Unfriendly eyes’?” Lyra asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Other HLF wanted them dead for wanting a unified front with us,” Munro said. “And there were many in the PHL who wanted all HLF purged or folded in under our command. Including them.”

Munro sighed, lost in thought for a moment.

“Why?” Lyra asked. “Our HLF worked fine with our people. Still do…”

“How did yours form?” Munro asked.

“The ‘human liberation front’ was a bunch of people who came together to protect refugees from rogue PER during the Barrier’s expansion,” Elliot said quietly. “Bit of a mixed bag - more than a few looters, psychopaths and maniacs about - but they generally were the only consistent thing out there.”

“Well,” Munro said. “Ours came when a man that lost his wife took over a support group made to deal with the families of the ponified, and made it into something like the KKK, just so he could kill every pony in revenge. Including the ponies under our command. We had a medical convoy once… and they attacked it, tortured the ponies onboard, and stole the supplies for themselves.” Munro sighed. “What a clusterfuck that was.”

“Then what made the Reavers better?” Lyra asked, frowning.

“They never fired on us,” Munro said. “You’ll…” he looked downwards. “We’ve done a lot of things you could hate us for. I won’t blame you, and even I hate us for some of the things we’ve done. I just want you to know… when it comes to the HLF, we have a lot of old grudges.”

“We’ve got a few skeletons in our closets too, Colonel,” Lyra said.

“It's not a time where people always act their best,” Elliot added, his eyes downcast. “You're not Gilead. That's something.”

“Well, the Reavers never liked the lengths we went to,” Munro said quietly. “It's probably why they never joined the PHL when most everyone else sane from that group did. Kraber made a big, public apology when he was crashing a skyliner into an evacuated area, made a speech asking any HLF sane enough to leave… and God knows how or why, but the Afrikaner bastard was convincing.”

“Yarrow’s Reavers weren’t so convinced?” Lyra guessed.

“No, they weren’t,” Munro said. “Yarrow didn't see why he should swap Mike Carter for Marcus Renee.”

“What does that mean?” Elliot asked.

“In response to the HLF destroying our medical convoy, we - that is, the U.S. army - attacked their settlement at Defiance,” Munro said simply. With a kind of eroded, affected flatness to the tone. “There were women and children there. Were. Some of them tried to fight back… I don’t want to know how many didn’t. Didn't change the end result.”

Lyra's eyes widened. “Accident? Collateral damage?”

“No,” Munro said bluntly. “We… I’m told we expected there to be women and children, and basically the force sent was… authorised to do what had to be done. No consequences, no court martials. Carte Blanche.”

Lyra blanched. “That’s… horrible.”

Munro sighed. “The directive was, so I’m told, ‘put the fear of God into them’.” He laughed bitterly. “And God knows we did that. Didn't actually help in the end - just made the bad ones worse and alienated some of the good ones.”

“Yarrow,” Lyra guessed.

“Yarrow,” Munro nodded. “When he found out, he told me he was done sticking his neck out for people who wanted his head.”

“Did people want his head?” Elliot asked, frowning in confusion. “Sounds to me like no one reasonable would have argued for taking him out, regardless of what they might think of the other HLF.”

“Unfortunately, there were people,”
Munro said grimly. “There was an… attack in Montreal. A three-way brawl between Imperials, HLF, and us. One hundred fifty Reavers went in, all those advanced guns I gave them out, and all those troops ready to die helping us.” The Colonel paused, rubbing his head. “They lost fifty people, or thereabouts, fighting PER and other HLF, and they even had people helping us against the Inperials. Outside of Lieutenant Ze’ev and Heliotrope, who were, shall we say, ignored… no one noticed or cared that those fighters had been on our side. They were HLF. One report afterward - can't remember who wrote it - said that they'd ‘painted a target on their ass’ for using those guns there.”

“But… they helped you,” Lyra pointed out.

“Sure they did,” Munro said. “But no one cared. I know neither the President nor the good Colonel Renee were altogether thrilled by the existence of the Reavers and their guns, let alone the question of where they got their equipment. I couldn't exactly speak up - I’d have been cashiered out of the military, even if I wasn't shot. Afterwards, their role was downplayed by the media.”

“Why would they do that?!” Lyra gasped.

“Mixed messages,” Munro said grimly. “Thanks to HLF being in the business of trying to keep people safe from ponies whether they - ponies or human - liked it or not, there was the question of how it would look on the propaganda, I guess. Can't have HLF, any HLF, being the heroes of the hour when they're your villains and you want to decry them. Makes things complicated right when we can’t afford it, because apparently we think the public are idiots.”

“Propaganda,” Elliot groaned. “Never fucking changes.”

“Anyway,” Munro said quietly. “No one realised - or cared - how much we owed them, and there were… more than a few enquiries about how they came to get those weapons, enquiries my associates tried very hard to cover up. I’m just lucky they managed to succeed in doing so.”

“So you saved them from getting folded - or purged - presumably at great personal risk,” Elliot said softly, folding his arms. “Why? Why would you take that risk? You'll forgive me, but you don't seem the type.”

“I’m not. But they lost over seven hundred of their people helping me, helping us all,” Munro said simply. “I thought they deserved better than to be wiped out, locked away and forgotten. I saved them.” He sighed. “They helped me, one last time, a few months ago, during a rather tricky situation. Since then, I've heard nothing from them - until now.”

“Sounds like quite a story,” Elliot conceded. “But what does it have to do with me?”

“Yarrow died in that last mission,” Munro said quietly. “And from what I've heard since then, they've been looking for a reason to fight - something worth dying for, since the rest of the world decided to shit on ‘em. Now, apparently, they've found it.”

It took Elliot a moment to realise what Munro meant, when it finally hit him, he blinked, eyes widening in shock.

“Me?” he asked. “Why me?”

“They see in you a man worth following, I guess,” Munro said quietly. “Someone who’s got nothing to do with fascists backing a military dictatorship like us, I guess.”

“Come on,” Lyra said. “No need to beat yourself up that badly…”

“Oh, there is,” Munro said. “If you knew even a tenth of the dirty business we’ve done…”

“And you don’t know a hundredth of ours,” Elliot said. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of at the end of the world. Let’s just agree we’re all mutually disgusted and move on.”

“Deal,” Munro said. “In any case - they contacted me to get me to get you. And they wanted me to see that you got to them, so they can personally meet you - and ask for political asylum.”

“Asylum?” Lyra repeated. “They want asylum? In our world?”

“In this world they're still wanted criminals, and more than a few people want their heads,” Munro explained. “In your world they have a chance for a fresh start, a chance to die fighting and have people actually care when they give their all. All you have to do is go there, grant them the asylum, and escort them here to be transported to your world.”

Elliot sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. “That's… going to take some doing.”

“Well, you are the man who killed a clone of the Tyrant,” Munro said with a slight smirk. “I get the feeling this isn't going to be quite that hard.” He turned to go, placing a card on the desk as he went. “My contact details are there. Call me when you've made your choice, and I’ll get a team together to escort you.”

He left the room, leaving Elliot and Lyra alone.

“You're gonna go get them, aren't you,” she stated rhetorically.

“I think so,” he said.

“Figures.” She took a breath, before nodding. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you're staying here to oversee this bullshit while I'm gone,” he told her, tapping the pile of paperwork with a sigh. “Someone I trust needs to. Lord knows Eric won't: probably end up knighting half the base while I was gone.”

Lyra looked set to protest, then sighed. “Fine. But take somepony you trust, along with whoever the Council lumbers you with.”

He nodded. “I will do. Send word ahead.”

She nodded, and left the office, a troubled look on her face. Sighing, he slumped back in his chair, feeling drained.

When did life get this complicated?

***

John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 20th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

A man in a gas mask lovingly set down a Bren gun, patting it slightly, before picking up a bigger gun. He seemed to be inspecting it.

The gun bore a vague resemblance to an MG42, with the same squarish barrel shroud, though with the heavier barrel, it vaguely reminded him more of the PPSH subguns some of the Russians had brought to Britain. A set of oval-shaped protrusions poked from the holes, with a long strip of black metal down the right side of the weapon, where the barrel would be changed out. Small bits of electronics with black electrical tape covering the lights festooned the larger-than-normal receiver. Its stock was made of polymer - oh, how he’d missed having a comfortable stock! - and there looked to be a set of arrows on the stock, pointing down to the butt of the pistol grip.

Finally, tied on with some string, there was a little cardboard note. To Viktor, in the hopes that you'll find it as awesome as I did, Viktor.

The gas-mask wearing man looked at the note, before shrugging and hefting the MG2019.

I also left you a large belt of HEIAP rounds I stole from an HLF weapons cache. Save them for a special occasion. I didn’t load them, of course. Who in the fok stores loaded firearms? That’s an accident begging to happen.

I also left in my old pipebomb launcher, a grenade launcher, and a flaregun.

By the way, this is also a cobbled-together prototype, and they never quite fixed the energy distribution. The extra energy it uses to imbue the rounds makes the handguard burn like a varknaaier. This hurts the fok out of your hand. Half the reason I added in a pipebomb launcher was to have a handguard I liked.

Also, you can bury this thing in a crate made out of teak sometime. Absolutely nothing bad will happen to it.

“I like it,” he said after a moment.

***

Governing Council Chamber, Scottish Archives, February 27th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth.

Dinky Doo entered the council room, papers kept on a clipboard under her forearm, as Prince Blueblood was sitting down. Mr Sato and General Anderson were both already there, looking harried but surprisingly cheerful. Morale had reached a high with the news of this new world and the alliance.

“Ah, Dinky!” Blueblood said as Dinky entered. “Excellent, you're here right on time.”

Dinky nodded. “Always am, sir.”

“Of course,” Blueblood said with a smile. “Anyway, what's on the agenda for today?”

Dinky pulled out the clipboard and set it down, her eyes glancing over it.

“Usual set of standard things to go over,” she said simply. “Requests from various places. A disciplinary action from -”

“Anything important?” Anderson said irritably. “I'm about done with dealing with little problems for this week.”

Dinky pursed her lips and went back to her clipboard.

“Three items marked as ‘urgent: top priority’, sirs,” she said simply. “One report from our contingent in the so-called ‘Spectrum’ Earth…”

“Who even called it that?” Anderson muttered.

“… and two requests from Brigadier Elliot,” Dinky finished, ignoring the comment.

Sato leaned forward in his chair. “Requests?”

Dinky nodded, passing the clipboard to Blueblood, who glanced over it.

“One request for a BDF contingent and representative to be sent to the ‘Downtime’ Equestria,” the Prince said with a slight frown. “Since we don't have a presence there but there seems to be a lot of events happening there worthy of our attention.”

“The Doctor is there, isn't he?” Sato asked, folding his arms. “Surely he could -”

“The Doctor is, to say the least, unreliable as a rule,” Anderson said with a snort. “Asking him of all ponies to represent us would be like asking a goldfish with amnesia to represent the ocean. He'd just flit off and do something else.”

“Who could we send then?” Sato asked, frowning.

Blueblood sighed, a resigned smile on his face. “Seems to me like there's only one practical candidate.”

It took the other two men a moment to realise just who Prince Blueblood meant. Anderson scowled.

“Out of the question,” he said sternly. “As a council member -”

“As a council member I am the best choice,” Blueblood cut him off. “I’m the Prince of the Equestrian Exodite Government-in-Exile, I'm the representative of my people’s interests in this world. I’m also a key member of the Council, meaning I speak for the surviving humans just as well.”

“A valid point,” Sato said with a sceptical frown, “but you are also, by virtue of these facts, valuable. We cannot risk losing you.”

“Believe me, I've considered the risks,” Blueblood said with a wry smile. “I've no desire to wander hither and thither across dimensions, no desire to leave this bunker, and I've certainly no great enthusiasm for the idea of going to another Equestria just to be confronted with a saner version of my Aunt. Pony God knows, that'll cause some weird moments. But I'm the best choice. Sent with a Night Guard contingent I could be the best chance we have. The motion is up.”

Anderson sighed. “Opposed.”

“Supported,” Sato said. Anderson glared at him. “He's right - it's a good idea. We might well be faced with a golden opportunity. It is not one we should ignore.”

Anderson sighed, then leant back and waved a hand. “Whatever. Next item.”

“Brigadier Elliot has received a request for asylum from a group of humans from the Spectrum Earth,” Dinky said quietly. “He requests permission to take a taskforce and retrieve these people.”

“Given that their Earth is in a state of open warfare with that other Equestria,” Blueblood said quietly, “I can see the need for escort. He say who these people are?”

“Uh… ‘Reavers’, sir,” Dinky said. “Subset of HLF.”

Anderson frowned, looking around the table. “I know Maxi Yarrow in our world by reputation. Anything we need to know about this one?”

“The information packets we received concerning ‘HLF’ are very… lacking,” Sato said with a frown. “There is a lot of information on key individuals - Michael and Verity Carter, Atlas Galt, Leonid Lovikov, John Birch… also considerable amounts about events - the Three Weeks of Blood, Sutra Cross’ murder, the massacre of Defiance and the subsequent purge… Some chaos in Montreal...”

“But nothing on Yarrow’s people?” Anderson asked.

Sato shook his head. “The Reavers are on a list of HLF formations. Quite low down. There are other names we might recognise, and some we might not, but most are listed as defunct. The Reavers are listed as ‘unknown’.”

Anderson and Blueblood shared a glance.

“A request for asylum means they think they're at risk of something unpleasant if they stay where they are,” Blueblood said quietly. “Which begs the question - what did they do to deserve that unpleasant something?”

Sato motioned for Dinky to pass him the clipboard, and he glanced over the paper with narrowed, scrutinising eyes.

“The request carries Brigadier Elliot’s recommendation for approval,” he said. “Whatever they've done, Elliot thinks we should accept their request.”

Anderson breathed out, a more neutral expression on his face. “Right.”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“Elliot’s the man on the ground,” Anderson said simply. “If I trust anyone to know the full details, I trust him. He knows it'll be his head that rolls if he's wrong.” He grinned. “The motion is up.”

“Supported,” Sato said at once.

Blueblood sighed. “Supported, provisional to Elliot having a bloody good explanation.”

“Right then,” Anderson said, sighing. “What next?”

***

New York, November 20th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

A young woman with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and features that might have been pretty once, clad in a set of heavy armour printed with an Armacham logo, was sat on her own in a small improvised bedroom. A letter was clutched in her gauntleted hand, tear stained and crumpled from being read multiple times.

Dear Sam,

I don’t know when this will reach you - or even if it will. I've gotten this letter to a man who, if he isn't trustworthy, at least isn’t a complete dick. I don't know whether you're alive, dead, or worse than dead.

I hope to God you're somewhere safe, far away from the fighting. A false hope, I know, knowing you, but I hope on anyway. False hopes seem to be my stock in trade. In either case, I hope wherever you are, you're doing what feels right for you.

You've heard things about me, I’m sure. Some of them are true. Some of them aren't. I can't tell you which is which, because I truthfully don't know what you know. Munro might. I don't know how much he’ll tell you. I don’t know if he’ll tell you anything. Guess it’s hope again, eh?

Know that I love you, and that whatever you choose to do, I’m proud of you. I wish you were here, with me, but I know you’re doing what is right for you.

I love you.

Dad.

Samantha Yarrow stood up, shaking her head. She put a helmet on her head and stepped out of the bedroom into a small, homemade lab/armoury.

Once she had been PHL. She'd wanted to help people, if she could, and the only other choice for fighting the Solar Empire had been the HLF - riddled with lunatics and indiscriminate. She'd spent years with them, ignoring the stigma attached to her name, ignoring the hostility, the suspicion, the blatant accusations of stealing advanced tech. Eventually she'd been transferred to the command of one Yael Ze’ev, who had treated her well.

Then Nipville had happened. Burning, burning, the smell would never leave her nostrils and she would never ever be free of it…

She could understand why. Understanding wasn't the point. The point was that a war crime had happened, barely anyone had been spared, and Yael Ze’ev, as good a commanding officer, as good a person as she might have been, should have been removed from service, court martialed, imprisoned. PHL command should have denounced it.

They didn’t not denounce it, but they didn’t exactly make a big show of condemning it. Yael was demoted, sent somewhere else, kept around as barely more than a consultant in what by all rights should have been the middle of nowhere, then found herself a hero of the Battle of Montreal, Viktor fucking Kraber at her side, with consequences lost somewhere in the rubble. As far as Sam knew, she was still in service, with her old rank to boot.

And her father was dead.

She had hated him. He had been HLF - she had equated him with Galt and Carter and Lovikov. She had been ashamed of him, ashamed of herself for being his daughter. She had never known exactly what he had done. But then she had found out: an officer named Munro had given her the letter, and a list of her father’s exact deeds. Saving Prince Harry from PER on the Cain Run. Fighting the anomaly Imperial Creed. And Montreal…

… and the PHL wanted his head. He had helped them, and done far less than an officer they lauded now as a hero, but they wanted his head.

Sam Yarrow, perhaps more like her father than she thought, had decided to say ‘fuck that’. She absconded with a truck of Armacham gear she had been ordered to deliver somewhere, and had set up shop as an independent in New York. Pretty soon, others came to her, joining her efforts to keep the streets clean.

“Sam,” a shaven-headed man said in greeting. He wore similar armour, daubed in Norse runes. This was Peter McReady, an HLF man who claimed to have served with Sam’s father - Maximilian Yarrow. It was he who had told her that her father was… was…

She ignored the slow welling of feelings. “Peter. We got anything?”

“Since that so-called ‘Avatar’ guy showed up? PER have been pretty fuckin’ silent,” McReady said grimly. “I don't trust it. Scared PER plus potion plus new weirdness plus Imperial backing equals…”

He looked over at Samantha, his voice trailing off.

“Nothing good?” she supplied with a humourless smirk.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Something like that.”

“Them being scared worries you?” she asked.

“I fought them a lot,” he replied simply. “Afraid means cunning. Fearless PER, I can deal with. They’re gone quick, and they’re predictable.”

She shrugged. “At least they don’t have anypony like Shieldwall with them anymore.”

“Small blessings,” McReady shrugged. “Also, Grant says she’s run the numbers, and she can definitely make your Type-12 shoot about one and a half times faster.”

“I believe her,” Sam said with a wry grin. “Anything else?”

McReady looked concerned for a moment. “Yeah. I got a text from Preston.”

Sam frowned - McReady had mentioned Preston before. He and Peter had both been Odinsons - the rather florid name, but then, that was dad. Amongst all the chaos, confusion, and violence of the Conversion War, he was still a little weird. It hasn't been the weirdest name (seriously, why name a military unit after minor antagonists from Les Mis other than to seem sophisticated for the sake of sophistication? And what was a Kraken Grenadier meant to be, anyway?) but it had been very like her father.

“What did he want?” Sam asked.

Peter took a deep breath before speaking - and suddenly, Sam knew this was really important. Peter was always confident - hesitation suggested… concern.

“He told me the Reavers… were preparing to move,” he said after a moment. “They're preparing to enter the fight again.”

Sam frowned, confused. “To… they're… going to come back?”

“Preston wanted me to come back,” Peter said quietly. “I never told him what I was doing - for all Rither, Idle and Preston know, I'm still in prison. Only Erin and Preacher went back.”

Sam thought for a moment, her mind flicking quickly through her options.

The Reavers. The people who fought with Dad. When she’d learned about the Reavers, Sam Yarrow had wanted to find them, but something had held her back - a desire to help the people of New York, to put down rogue PER the PHL almost never saw to. Now though…

No matter how she swung it… the Reavers… felt like home. They felt honest, in some way the PHL just couldn’t quite capture.

“You want to go back?” she asked.

McReady frowned slightly. “I failed Yarrow. I'm here… I'm here to protect you. Because you're his daughter.” He paused. “Do you want to go?”

Sam thought for a moment, and then she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah I do.”

***

BDF Liaison Office, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 20th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

Elliot tensed slightly when he read the team list Major Redmond had handed him. Redmond - a dark skinned Texan BDF officer eager to see the old home - had never been Elliot’s biggest fan, preferring things he could understand to a mystical power he barely believed in (a rather ironic sentiment coming from a new Gaian cultist) and, more importantly, was just one man. Nonetheless, he had always respected Elliot’s dedication and skill, even if they had butted heads occasionally.

“You’re sure about this?” Elliot asked.

“Anderson was very specific, Brigadier,” Redmond said with a slight raised eyebrow. “This is the ground team he’s giving you. This mission is important: we’ll be on foreign soil, helping extract people from this world.”

Elliot frowned slightly at the emphasis on his rank. He hadn’t expected everyone to be happy - Redmond was clearly more bemused than anything else. Still, better than angry.

“So his answer is to give me a squad of Blackbands?” Elliot asked, folding his arms. “Please tell me this doesn’t go pear-shaped.”

“No promises,” Redmond said.

Blackbands were notorious soldiers among the BDF, for all the wrong reasons. You couldn’t live without them, but that wasn’t to say you could live with knowing what they did. The remnants of special forces, paramilitary elite and crack mercenaries from both the BDF and the Exodite movement, the Blackbands were the cloak and dagger specialists of the Council. They were the ones you called whenever the integrity of the British Isles was threatened by smaller but deadlier infiltrations. No matter what it was - PER agents, rogue HLF extremists, pony saboteurs, Imperial secret weapons… the Blackbands handled it quickly and with extreme prejudice.

For example: Once, there had been an… incident of shantytowns and civvie shelters somewhere in the Tyne and Wear Metro disappearing overnight. The next three days, there’d been smoke wafting up from the stations.

Officially they worked outside of the parameters of the BDF, operating with near impunity and answering only to the Council. They had the right to do whatever was necessary and it was by their discretion that they set the limits of what they were allowed to get away with to complete their missions. The only thing that ensured their members’ loyalty most of the time was the fact that they had no other options but to serve. To be given command and responsibility over a squad of them was a complete surprise, a huge honour and a hefty burden.

“You need the best at your back,” Redmond said simply. “Anderson picked these operatives personally.”

Elliot sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Tell me there aren’t that many troublemakers.”

“Ducane’s a bit of a loose cannon,” Redmond replied, frowning slightly, “but Ze’ev, Abboudi, Horowitz and O’Riley are top notch operatives, and Mortimer -”

“Mortimer?” Elliot repeated. “As in, that guy who -”

“Yes,” Redmond said, cutting him off. “I know what you’ll say, but he’s top rated for any mission you care to throw him at, one of the Resistance’s best, and he’s perfect for this kind of mission. Plus he’s testing a P221 for us.”

Elliot groaned. “You said this was important - I’d have thought that meant no experimental shit.”

Redmond grinned. “You thought wrong. They’re waiting for you by the APC.”

Sighing, Elliot moved to follow Redmond.

“So,” he said. “Heard whether the Council had discussed my recommendation yet?”

“They haven’t told me,” Redmond said blandly. “Though I’d guess they’re considering it, since they’d usually have dismissed it by now if they were going to.”

“That’s something,” Elliot said quietly, as they headed to the centre’s exit.

***

FEAR APC.

Lieutenant - formerly Sergeant - David Elliot frowned at the rank insignia on his uniform as though expecting it to bite him. He had not been expecting a promotion, but according to the good Colonel Munro, ‘this is too important for a lesser operative’. He was stood outside their old APC, the one that had seen them through Fairport, Bastion and the EHS crisis. They were going to head off in a few minutes, a rendezvous with… people… waiting up ahead of them.

People, he thought grimly. Yeah, sure. How about ‘me’. Me. Fucking me for God’s sake! God-me! Miracle working me! I mean, what the hell?!

“Feeling confident?” his friend Sam asked quietly from next to him. “About this, I mean?”

David glanced at his friend. “No, not really. He’s gonna be there, isn’t he? Would you be confident?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a wry grin. “Not gonna lie, that has the potential to be a mite awkward.”

“A mite?” came the voice of a True Grit, coming up behind the two. Behind him stood Steady Hoof, his old friend, his favoured P225 on his back.

“Alright, fine, more that a mite,” Sam said with a shrug. “Look, the guy’ll be you. Not like he’s all that scary.”

“He's not you,” David said with a slight frown. “He's me. I’m the one who has to deal with him being me.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Grit, Hoof, get in the APC with Errant. Wake him up while you're at it.”

Grit sighed, before heading off. “Don't do anything daft, say anything daft, or generally speak.”

“I will bear that in mind,” Sam said with a smirk as the two ponies headed off into the old APC.

“So,” David said quietly, making Sam feel a stab of concern for his friend. “What?”

“Simple - I’m doing my job as your sodding best friend,” Sam replied with a smile. “Mate, you can't get too hung up on these guys.”

“Can I not?” David asked, folding his arms.

“Hey, for all we know, there's gonna be a bunch of people we know in that other world,” Sam said with a smirk. “You're there. They have a Lyra. Maybe there’s an Elise, a Grit, an Errant… we don't know. But you can't get weird about -”

“It's not just that he's me,” David said suddenly, cutting him off. He looked at Sam with a strangely haunted expression. “He’s that me.”

“‘That’ you?” Sam repeated with a frown. “What the hell does that mean?”

David looked up at the sky, his lips pursing.

“I dream of it,” he said quietly. “That place he's from. A Lyra he knows, who knows him. A - a power I never understood. Fighting Celestia…” He closed his eyes. “It's all so strange. So… familiar, but alien too.”

Sam folded his arms. “You… you dreamed of this?”

“Yeah,” David said quietly. “Yeah, I did. I’m not the only one.”

“You're kidding,” Sam said.

David shrugged. “Kraber does - he told me about it once. I think I heard rumours of others with it too, too many to all be true but - y’know.”

Sam sighed. “So… you've dreamed of his life. What's it like?”

David looked at the ground, eyebrows furrowed.

“Terrible,” he said after a moment. “It's fucking terrible.”

Sam looked at his friend for a long time. He'd seen David in pensive moods before - even downright terrible moods. But this… it was like he had aged twenty years. Lines covered his face - was that fear? Worry? Or was it responsibility - this other man’s responsibility?

“What are you afraid of?” Sam asked his friend honestly.

David looked up at him. “I’m afraid that when I look at him, I’ll see - I’ll see me. Screaming back at me. I remember what he felt. I know him. He's afraid, Sam. He's so afraid. And he's alone.”

Suddenly, Sam found himself moved to pity. How alone was this other Elliot? What was he like?

“Then we’ll make sure he isn't,” he said simply. “Mate… he's you. And if he's as alone as you say, he needs people. Dare I say it, he needs us.”

David gave a wan smile. “Maybe you're right.”

“‘Course I’m right, it's my job,” Sam grinned. “Now come on - they'll have woken Errant up by now, that’ll be fuckin’ hilarious.”

***

The Blackbands were stood outside a battered but serviceable BDF APC in khaki and brown, the words ‘Fuck you, fuck your potion, fuck your tyrant and fuck your manners’ written on one side in big red letters, a hoof print left right below it. Redmond chuckled as he and Elliot approached the vehicle.

“Cute,” Elliot said with a raised eyebrow. “What next, ‘Buck Solamina up the plot’?”

“Not bad,” a gravelly voice said with a chuckle. “Shoulda done that one myself. Though I know someone who contracted flaming gonorrhea that wanted the job.”

“Gross,” Redmond said.

A spiky-maned muddy-brown stallion stepped out, clad in a Kevlar chestplate with a stained bandana on. His cutie mark was burned off, replaced on the bare scar tissue by a tattoo of a horse-head skull.

“Corporal Mortimer,” the pony said, sitting something out of his mouth. “Blackband two one seven. I guess you're the Avatar of Albion?”

“Brigadier David Elliot,” Elliot said, nodding at the stallion cautiously.

“Yeah, probably still gonna call you Al,” Mortimer said with a chuckle. “Hey, guys! They're here!”

From the truck came a few troops in the usual battered fatigues of the BDF. One was a dark haired Israeli woman with hard features and a scar down one side of her face. Another was a shaven headed man, a goatee gracing his chin. Another man, blonde and stubbly with a disdainful expression, flicked a cigarette away from himself with a snort. The last was a dark-skinned man wearing sunglasses with a beanie on his head. All of them had black armbands on.

“Brigadier,” Redmond said, pointing at the Blackbands. “These are Captain Yael Ze’ev -” and the woman nodded, “Sergeant Alec Ducane,” to which the blonde man smirked, “Operative Mustafa Abboudi,” and the sunglasses-wearing man nodded, “and Operative Dan Horowitz.” The bald man nodded once. “Operative Ian O’Riley is in the truck - he's your driver.”

Elliot nodded. “Alright. I’m Brigadier David -”

“We know who you are, glow stick,” Ducane smirked. “We ain’t stupid.”

Elliot frowned. “No, I suppose you're not.”

Redmond glanced between Elliot and Ducane. “There going to be an issue?”

“I can handle myself, Major,” Elliot said quietly. “Please tell Colonel Munro I’ll meet his team at the rendezvous point on schedule.”

Redmond nodded and turned to leave. For a moment, Elliot and the Blackbands were left sizing one another up.

“Alright,” the Brigadier finally said. “I'll assume you've been briefed on the mission.”

“Help this world’s version of Yarrow’s Reavers,” Ze’ev said at once. “Can do, will do, sir.”

“Seems a waste o’ time to me,” Ducane said with a shrug. “They don't sound like what I'd call prime military assets.”

“What the fuck do you know, Ducane?” Horowitz said with a scowl.

“I know I don't like pointless missions,” Ducane retorted.

Elliot folded his arms. “We should, I suppose, consider ourselves fortunate that you aren't in charge of deciding what ‘pointless’ means in this context.”

Ducane chuckled. “If I was, your Avatarness, your shiny ass would probably be right up on that list.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

“Sure,” Ducane said. “Fuck this magic bull. I always said it. Get the Doc to drop a nuke on Solly’s head. End of. No biggie.”

“We've all heard the ‘nuke on Solly’s head’ idea,” Mortimer said with a groan. “How many times have I gotta tell you - she can teleport. She’d see it coming. You'd glass a town and just get some pissed-off locals”

“So? Still a town of Imp suckers fuckin’ wrecked,” Ducane snorted. “Get any decent ponies to exit stage left and we’ve got a good ‘un.”

“Well, when you find out how to get a nuclear weapon to the other end of the earth, let me know,” Ze’ev said. “Cos if the Doc was gonna do it, he'd have done it.”

“Simplicity must be so fun to live with,” Abboudi said blandly.

“Hey, fuck you man,” Ducane snorted.

“Fascinating as your unique perspective on tactics is, Mr Ducane,” Elliot said dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm, “I suggest we get on with our mission.”

“Oh, absolutely your shiny hiney-ness,” Ducane smirked. “After your most beneficent self.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow and walked onto the APC. Ze’ev followed, throwing Ducane a warning glance as she did so. After her came Horowitz.

“You're gonna get smacked back, I can tell,” the big man said.

“Fuck him,” Ducane muttered. “So he's some magic fucker - who cares? Bet he's a pansy in a real fight.”

“Tell that to the Elements,” Abboudi put in with a smirk as he too stepped onto the APC. Ducane chuckled.

“I would suggest,” Ze’ev said from inside the APC, “That you kindly shut your fucking face before I do something we both regret.”

“I suggest everyone calms down,” Elliot scowled from next to her. He sighed. “This is going to be a long trip.”

“Fortunately, O’Riley knows a few drinkin’ songs,” Horowitz grinned. “Don'tcha ya old bastard?”

“Sure I do,” O’Riley called back in a broad Irish brogue. “When I’m drunk!”

There was a smattering of laughter from the Blackbands and Elliot sighed to himself.

I should've brought Lyra with me, he thought.

A few moments later, the APC was on the move, heading for the rendezvous.

Author's Note

You may have noticed a mention of Diamond Dogs being trained to use heavy weaponry. This is a completely legitimate photo of the early days of the process from what is definitely deep within the PHL archives.

Ruinous Rebirth

Chapter Thirteen: Ruinous Rebirth.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
RoyalPsycho,
Sledge115.

Editors
The Void.

***

“You gonna lay there, with all that blood in your mouth? Or are you gonna spit it out and spill theirs?”
Hardcore Henry

“And soon this whole town will be as this station is now. Not without struggle, not without loss. Not without grave injury and a lifetime of what-ifs. But we will do it.
We may be controlled by the City Council, and the Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency, and chemtrails, and the Secret Order of Reptile Kings, and the mysterious lights that hover above us, but we will not be controlled by a Smiling God! We are Night Vale! And we are, in our own way, free!
We must continue to fight, and resist. We must be the heroes we look for in others. We must no longer speak in code, but in action.
Return to your homes, if you can. But do not lock your doors tonight. Do not hide yourselves away from danger. Be brave. Be truly brave.
I mean, don’t get carried away. Stay out of the Dog Park. And don’t run with knives. And, for crying out loud, don’t cry out loud. You’ll upset the bears, which are emotionally fragile animals that are already very uncomfortable with themselves.”
Welcome To Night Vale.

***

Canterlot Palace, Canterlot, ‘Tyrant’ Equus. November 21st, 2023 (Human calendar).

“And you're sure he’s the one you want?” Twilight Sparkle said with a raised eyebrow.

The purple mare was speaking to a dark-maned Unicorn, whose eyes stared out at the sky of Equus with an unknowable expression. The dark-maned mare turned to look at the Element of Harmony with a grin.

“I am sure, my lady,” she said. “It is, after all, what I was made for.”

Twilight Sparkle was full of uncertainty. This new Newfoal, this ‘Morgause’, had described a list of resources she would need almost as soon as she had been ‘born’. Her demands had not only included two companies of Newfoal levy - three hundred in total - but the help of a detachment of Wonderbolts and, to Twilight’s consternation, the help of one of many ‘deviants’, or anomalous Newfoals, namely the officer Imperial Creed. Creed was dangerous in his own right - while he seemed simple, he was a devastatingly brilliant tactician. Reports of his actions on Earth indicated that in the one critical engagement he had fought in, the only reason he had been defeated was because overwhelming force had been brought against him and he'd had no reserves. He was on his way now, and would soon be joining Morgause in an attack on Earth.

Anomalous newfoals were frowned upon, just the slightest bit. Firstly, they were unpredictable in the extreme, and experiments to reproduce this sort of thing went almost uniformly poorly. Secondly, the whispers went that they hadn’t quite discarded enough of their humanity. Still, no Royal Guard platoon that’d found themselves with an anomalous newfoal that actually helped (as opposed to making half-coherent pleas for the sweet mercy of death, simply shutting down, being comatose, or banging their skull against the wall till it got runny) would dare give it up.

There were too many unknowns, they were too resource-intensive, and there were enough atmospheric and thaumic factors on Earth where they were born that replicating the process was nigh-impossible.

They had learned from their spies that the being called the Avatar would be isolated, temporarily at least, in a small convoy en route to an unknown location. Tracking him was a simple matter of finding two of their armoured vehicles traveling alone on a lonely road.

“I'm taking a pretty big risk, doing this,” Twilight cautioned Morgause. “This had better work.”

“Imperial Creed is a tactical genius,” Morgause said with a shrug. “If you expect me to battle a creature more powerful than any save our beloved monarch, I must have all the advantages I can gain.”

“Indeed,” Twilight said, frowning. “And the other request?”

Morgause grinned, an almost predatory thing at odds with her otherwise beautiful face. “I only wish to be a herald of new birth, as my potion-brothers and sisters have been in the past. Is that so wrong?”

“I don't know how comfortable I am with it,” Twilight said with a frown, moving to stand next to her. “We’ve had… poor results from allowing new stock to try independent potion-shaping in the past.”

“If we expect to win, my lady, then we must use all at our disposal,” Morgause said with a smirk as she looked up at the sky of Equus. “I will. Will you?”

Twilight snorted. “Unlike you, Newfoal, I am the first in her majesty’s confidences. Don't forget your place.”

“I mean no disrespect, my lady,” Morgause said with a bow that, despite the perfect form, seemed almost a little… too on-point to be truly sincere. “I merely wished to express my desire to triumph in the coming battles.”

“There, you and I are agreed,” Twilight said shortly. “And if I have to grant you these rights… so be it. Just do not disappoint me.”

“Be assured, Lady Sparkle,” Morgause said with a grin. “Nopony will be… disappointed.”

***

Temporary stop. En route to Bastion. November 21st, 2023.

The first stop was at an old gas station halfway to Bastion. The two APC’s had rolled up, and right now their drivers were refuelling them. Elliot was surprised to see the driver of the FEAR APC looked a lot like Sir Elise of the Knights of Albion.

Small world, ain’t it, he found himself thinking, and the thought made him chuckle. The surly but still somehow regal woman he knew was entirely different to the simply surly woman in fatigues who was with them now.

What surprised him more was the little group of FEAR troops - pony and human alike - that were standing near the APC, throwing him looks. He recognised almost all of them - there was the grinning mug of Errant Flight, that was definitely the scowling face of John Constantine, and with pangs of sadness, he recognised True Grit and Sam Lake - old friends, long gone.

Sorry. So sorry.

All of them wore F.E.A.R issue D12 armour, and carried fairly standard looking gear: SMGs, Assault Rifles, and - in Constantine’s case - a shotgun that looked like a SHO Series 3, quite different from Elliot’s beloved Vollmer VK-12.

Oh yeah, and then there was the other him, dressed in the same D12 and carrying an Andra SMG. That was weird.

He didn't truthfully know whether he wanted to go talk to them or not. He didn't know what he would have to say, if he'd have anything to say to them. They were, after all, not his friends.

“Penny for your thoughts, sir?” a voice asked from behind him. He turned to find himself faced with the scarred face of Yael Ze’ev.

“Tell you what,” he said, “you can have my thoughts. God knows I don't want ‘em.”

She smirked. “Yeah, that kinda makes sense. I wouldn’t want to be you either.”

Elliot chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Little bit,” Ze’ev said with a shrug. “It’s the ‘fuck my everything’ face you’ve got. Makes you look like you’d rather be anywhere but anywhere you are.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said quietly. “I wanted to run a bookshop , y’know. Not fight a war.”

“I wanted to be a dancer,” Ze’ev shrugged. “Then go to podiatry.”

“...Huh,” Elliot said. “Somehow, it doesn’t quite…”

“I get that a lot,” Yael said offhandedly. “But Cousin Nny always said it was a good racket before he exploded. Guess the world is hell, huh?”

“I guess it is,” Elliot agreed, sighing. “But we’ve still got to fight for it.”

“Maybe it won't be hell, if we win,” Ze’ev said with a shrug. “Maybe that's something we can look forward to.”

“Winning,” Elliot said with a sigh. “Let you in on a secret, Captain Ze'ev.”

She leaned forward, a frown on her face. “Sure, sir.”

“I wasn't sure we could, until I came here,” Elliot said with a grin. “London was enough of a shitstorm that I was desperate to do anything to end it.”

“Rumour had it Hell Blazer tossed you through a portal,” Ze'ev said with a nod.

“Something like that, Captain,” Elliot smirked. “Plan was I’d rush up to Solamina, cut her head off.”

“Didn’t they try that here?” Ze’ev asked.

“Actually, nobody knows how their colonel got transported over,” Elliot said. “All they’ve worked out is that something was transferred here while he left, but…” he shrugged. “Nobody knows. According to Kraber, he got sent to an Equestria that wasn’t offended by our very existence.”

“Think that could’ve happened to you?” Ze’ev asked.

“He tried to murder their Elements and Celestia,” Elliot said. “Almost glad I didn’t. I... “ he shrugged. “How could I not act the same?”

“If Grandma Jitka had been transported to another world and saw someone that looked for all the world like Hitler, she would have ripped him apart,” Ze’ev said. “With her teeth, possibly. I’m glad for our new allies, but… some things are just unavoidable. What happened after the portal?”

“Then I ended up here, wandered around confused for a couple minutes, and within a few hours I’d punched a Celestia’s face off.”

“Ha,” Ze'ev chuckled. “Wish I’d seen it.” Her face became more morose. “Funny old world. The whole thing. Isn't it?”

“It's certainly becoming more and more interesting, let's put it that way,” Elliot chuckle. “Kinda reminds me of Professor X. All the weird shit that used to go on in that.”

“That's that weird old TV show, right?” Ze'ev said with a chuckle. “With what's his face - the Professor, got played by that guy from Alien once, right?”

“Yup,” Elliot said with a chuckle. “Got to hand it to ‘em - I was only a kid when ‘Hour of The Professor’ played in cinemas, but it was still awesome. Can't believe they got Ian Holm of all people!” He sobered. “Man, the things you miss. You know, I spent a whole three years back in the good old days wishing I could get to play Professor X, zipping about in the SATNA.” At Ze'ev’s amused expression, he raised an eyebrow. “What? I was a kid once.”

“Hard to believe any of us were,” Ze'ev said with a chuckle. “There’s… there’s so much I wish I could tell the younger me. Still, life’s not quite like that.”

“No, you're right,” Elliot said with a chuckle. “Like’s an entirely different clusterfuck, and we don't get to be saved by heroes. We just get me.”

“I dunno,” Ze'ev said with a shrug. “A lot of people think you're a hero.”

Elliot shook his head. “No. I’m not a hero. Heroes usually don't…”

He trailed off.

“Don't what?” Ze'ev asked with a frown.

Elliot smirked slightly. “Don't fuck up quite as much as I do.”

“Eh,” Ze'ev shrugged. “You should read up on Jason and the Argonauts. Greek heroes always fuck up. And me…” she gestured vaguely to herself. “Me, I’ve plenty of mistakes under my belt. Me and all my friends. Elliot, the two of us…. both twos of us... we’ve lived through the apocalypse. If there was a time to fuck up, it’s then - the time where everything goes wrong. So: as Cousin Nny says-”

“Didn’t you say he was dead?” Elliot asked.

“Well, he’s alive here,” Yael said.

“That must be… odd,” Elliot said.

“Not really,” Yael said. “Two things he used to… well, does say. First, ‘Don’t think about it, Morty-’”

“Hmm?” Mortimer asked from nearby. “You talkin’ to me?”

“Second,” Yael finished, ignoring her colleague, “‘No need to soak’. You did what you could.”

Elliot nodded, chuckled to himself. “No, true. Yeah, I should probably stop wallowing. People to save and all.”

Ze'ev chuckled as well, before standing up and walking over to where Ducane was stood, arms folded, staring at the landscape. Elliot found himself looking at the dusty ground.

Buck up, matey, he thought. Lots to do yet.

***

“Haven't been this far out in a while,” John said with a groan as he stretched. “Air’s nice.”

David shrugged as his eyes glanced at the… other him. He was trying not to be too weirded out by the whole thing, he had to admit.

“He looks older than you,” Sam commented from behind him.

“He is older than me,” David said quietly. “So he bloody well ought to.”

Sam nodded. “You going to talk to him?”

David pursed his lips. “No.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “You agreed - he needs -”

“I know,” David said, trying not to snap. He turned to look his best friend in the eye. “I dunno. I don't feel… right, being here, with him.”

Sam sighed. “I get that. I’m trying to imagine how I’d be if I saw another me. Let alone one who can grow limbs back on live TV.”

“So if he could grow limbs back, just not on TV, that’d be different?” True Grit asked, stepping up to them, his own look of curiosity on his face as he glanced over at the other Elliot.

David chuckled. “Yeah. Where I couldn't see him.”

Grit shrugged. “Hey, I’m not one to complain about ‘out of sight, out of mind’ - that's basically my reaction to Equestria these days.”

David smiled at that, but he knew from Sam’s expression that his old friend could see through him. He’d always been able to. As the others wandered off, Sam walked up to him.

“You're not fooling me,” his old friend said with a sad smile.

David sighed. “This is all bollocks. Like an old episode of Doctor Who or summat.”

“Hey, could be worse,” Sam said. “We’re not standing on Arcadia, and the Solar Empire aren't quite the Daleks.”

“Yeah,” David grinned. “Remember when we went to go see ‘Day of the Doctor’?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “Awesome stuff. ‘Course, that's when we were younger.”

“Wasn’t so long ago,” David said with a sad smile. He looked up. “Maybe things’ll be better once this war shite’s over.”

“Maybe,” Sam said with a smirk. “Have to get there first.”

“Yeah,” David said with a smirk. “If we do.”

Sam shrugged. “I guess. But hey - we’ll do it. Together, we’re unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable,” David repeated with a smile. “Yeah.”

***

En route to Bastion. November 21st, 2023.

PHL, PER, and HLF alike called a place like this “the badlands.” Areas that’d been evacuated from the Barrier, small towns where people simply hadn’t felt safe. Wastelands full of scavengers, lost newfoals, and abandoned machinery anyone could just up and take.

The mare looked from left to right around the area as the Newfoals marched into position around her. Imperial Creed didn't know who this commander was - it wasn't his business to - but he knew she was a Newfoal like him. So far, however, she had seemed surprisingly unlike most of his other brothers and sisters. Her smile seemed… strange.

Imperial Creed was a crimson Unicorn, his dark red mane shorn to a close-cropped style. He was well-built enough for the business of conflict, without being overly muscled. He wore standard-issue Guard armour: tough, dependable stuff, marked with little scratches - his own kill-count.

They had materialised near a road - the hideous concrete construct marring otherwise beautiful land. More proof that their cause was righteous.

“Commander Creed,” she said quietly. Obediently, he trotted up beside her. “I want your impression of the immediate terrain.”

Looking around, Creed took in everything, a smile on his face. It might not have been Equestria, but he had to admit, this was lovely landscape.

“It's lovely,” he said simply.

His commanding officer glanced at him, a look of what might have been - what was that word? Disdain? What did that feel like again? - in her eyes. “I want your tactical impression of the immediate terrain.”

Nodding in comprehension, Creed looked again. “Crags, rocks. Plenty of space for an ambush. Plenty of cover.” He glanced back at her. “What did you have in mind, ma’am?”

“An ambush for a group of humans coming this way,” Morgause said quietly, a smile gracing her features once more. “I leave the details to you. Use the resources at your disposal to create the perfect ambush at this point.”

Imperial Creed nodded, before moving to look around some more.

“Ok, guys!” he called to his fellow Newfoals. “This is what I want you to do!”

***

En route to Bastion. November 21st, 2023.

“So what are we actually gonna do when we get to these HLF guys?” Mortimer asked with a frown as he sat against the APC bench with a lazy expression. “I hear the HLF ‘round these parts were nine parts crazy, one part dead.”

“The way this Colonel Munro tells it, that’s only half the story,” Elliot said quietly. “The other half being that these guys are basically ‘good guys’, kinda like our version of the Reavers.”

“The guys from the USS Enterprise, right?” Ze’ev asked. “One of the last escapees from Gilead?”

“The one and the same,” Elliot said with a nod. “Way command sees it, if these guys want asylum and are even half the people that the last escapees were, we need them.”

“I think I met Yarrow once,” Horowitz said blandly. “He was good. Strong.”

“He wasn't quite real HLF,” Ze’ev said softly, “but he was the best kind. He saved people - a lot of people.”

Elliot listened to them, before nodding. “If these people follow those kind of ideals, they’ll be good to have.”

“Personally, if anyone was gonna ask my opinion,” Ducane said quietly, a smirk on his face, “which, I note, no one is -”

“I wonder why,” Abboudi commented dryly.

“I still think it's a fuckin’ waste,” Ducane finished, ignoring him. “Why don't we just get that Discord guy to zap glow stick and a hundred dudes with rocket launchers to Canterlot?”

“Apart from being a stupid idea?” Horowitz asked. “How about because fuck you.”

“Well how about fuck you, too?” Ducane snapped. “Asshole.”

Elliot frowned. “Alright, enough. You lot don't have to like each other to work together.”

“We don't always work together,” Ze’ev said tiredly. “Lots of Blackbands do independent work. Ducane there tends to do solos.”

“Wish I was doing solo now,” Ducane muttered. “Had a good gig sniping PER in Plymouth before this shit.”

Elliot snorted. “Well, I’ll be sure to -”

And then there was a screech of tires, and a slamming sound.

***

Five Minutes Earlier.

Imperial Creed looked over the rise he had been ordered to position himself on. He was glad that whoever was in command of his group had enough foresight to pick an elevated area instead of sticking him and his subordinates somewhere on the flat, open terrain that surrounded them.

They were currently perched on a rise that looked over the furrowed road the humans had made. It was little more than a slightly rocky dirt path, likely formed from regular traffic. The rutts looked like those formed by the human vehicles. Scouts had of course reported to him that the human group they had been ordered to intercept was coming this way.

Hs infiltration group had managed to take position without any incidents at least and now waited for their targets in silence. The Newfoals were all adorned in the finest Royal Guard armour the empire could provide and were surprisingly well disciplined compared to what he had grown accustomed to leading.

Now all they were waiting for was their target, and the mare that had been placed in charge of them.

“Well?” a quiet voice asked him.

He turned to look at her. She was stood, gazing down at the battlefield with eyes full of… something.

“Everything’s prepared, ma’am,” Creed said with a smile.

“Indeed?” his CO said with a wry grin. “You find it so easy to prepare?”

Creed shrugged. “Anypony could do it if they looked enough, ma’am. It's obvious stuff, isn't it?”

Morgause looked at the arrayed forces and gave a half smile. “Perhaps to you, Creed. You have my permission to carry on.”

Creed shrugged, before turning back to his troops.

“Sir,” one of the Newfoals said with a hint of excitement in their voice.

“What is it?” Creed asked, turning away from Morgause to address the soldier that had called him.

“We’ve got movement,” the Newfoal reported. “It’s the convoy we were ordered to look out for.”

Creed pushed past the Newfoal and saw that he was correct. Two squat armoured machines were rolling onto the road that passed through their position. They bore the emblems that the report said would identify their target and had no additional protection.

This was their chance.

“Everypony, take position,” Creed ordered, making sure to keep hidden so he didn’t give himself away. “Unicorns aim for the wheels of those machines, stop them in their tracks. Then we move in to finish them off.”

With thankfully efficient speed the Newfoal soldiers ran to the areas Creed had marked out for them. They were all waiting for the signal to attack, an eager energy evident in the way they crouched in preparation. Unicorns charged spell on their horns, taking care not to make them too bright as he had commanded.

The two vehicles came ever closer, the sound of their engines and wheels surprisingly loud to Creed’s ears. He couldn’t help but feel as eager as his soldiers. He was in his element and about to execute another good plan, just like always.

The vehicles were now in the kill-zone, vulnerable and waiting.

“Now!” Creed shouted, firing off a flare from his horn.

As one the Unicorns of his detachments fired their spells. Concentrated thaumic energy shot out towards the vehicles and struck the large oversized wheels. Rubber bubbled and burned as the heat of the spellwork struck it. As the tyres melted and the first few spells dissipated, the second volley struck in an instant, deforming the metal of the exposed rims and warping the wheels in their entirety. A few spells missed their mark and struck the armour panelling, leaving nothing but slight scorches but the wheels of the first vehicle were now completely ruined, bringing it to a halt. The second vehicle screeched to a halt but not quickly enough to prevent it crashing into the side of the one in front as it spun out of control. Both armoured cars were thrown off course and slid to the side before coming to a stop.

***

The jolt of the wheels going out threw Sam into the side of the APC, slamming his shoulder. There was a horrible, tortured screeching sound, and then there was a loud crash as something heavy rammed into the side of the APC, jolting John and David opposite Sam. There was a moment’s silence as the troops took in what had just happened. David groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Think I’ve got fuckin’ whiplash,” John said with a growl. Errant Flight - who had been thrown into a wall - winced slightly in sympathy.

“Did something hit us?” True Grit asked, shaking his head. Next to him, Steady Hoof grabbed his P230.

David went over to the driver’s cab to check on McGuiness - only to see her lying back in her chair, her neck twisted at an impossible angle.

“Shit,” he swore. He turned to look back at everyone else. “We need to get outside - Sam, man the turret, Grit and Hoof, defensive position, cover us while we get out there!”

“What do you want me to do?” Errant asked, limping slightly.

“Can you still fly?” David asked.

“Think so,” the Pegasus said. “Whaddya want?”

“Air cover,” David said. “We need to keep their Pegasi off us!”

“My kinda job,” Errant grinned, saddling up his own pony SMG and heading out.

John sighed. “This day just got ‘fun’.”

***

“Charge!” Imperial Creed shouted. With cries of joy and excitement, the Newfoals charged out in two groups, one on either side of the crashed convoy.

“Newfoals!” an enemy Pegasus shouted as he took off from within the human vehicle, climbing high into the sky.

The wave of Newfoals didn’t slow for a moment as they converged on the APCs. The turrets of both vehicles swivelled to face the oncoming horde of enemies, their trackers locking on to the foremost ponies.

On the hill overlooking the gully the fight was taking place, Morgause smirked as she charged her own horn with power. As she gathered energy she targeted the two turret that were preparing to fire on her forces. With a savage grin she fired her spell. Two beams of light shot out, separating and wrapping around the barrels of both turret’s guns. The superheated thaumic energy began to melt the weapons of the APC turrets. With barely any effort, she forced the energy to push the weakened metal of the gun barrels out of shape, rendering them inoperable before releasing her control on the spell.

Pulling back into the shadows, Morgause kept her eyes on the battlefield, waiting for the next opportunity to strike.

***

“Turret’s out!” Sam shouted as he ducked away from several other spell shots the Unicorns had fired at him.

“Shit,” David exclaimed in response. “We won’t be getting any cover here.”

A quick glance showed him that two groups of ponies,both of equal size were bearing down on them from both sides. Hiding behind the APC wouldn’t work. They had to eliminate one of the groups.

He immediately turned to the group behind him and unloaded. A hail of bullets shot out and impacted into the front of the grinning Newfoal group. Several collapsed as their legs were reduced to mashed gore but they kept on moving, the disturbing grins they all wore never fading.

David prepared to fire off another burst when suddenly a spray of fire washed over the horde from above. Pones collapsed as bullets ripped into their backs. Several fell completely as the shots severed spines and destroyed shoulders. David looked up just in time to see Errant Flight climb back into the air, the barrels of his own SMG smoking slightly.

The Newfoal group in front of him had stalled because of Errant Flight’s attack and a few of them were now completely immobilized or dead. However, the majority of them either kept limping forward or pulled themselves up on whatever mangled limbs they could still move and ambled in his direction, their grins never once fading.

Grimacing, he turned to Sam who was trying to lay down suppressing fire on the other side of the APC. He was dodging spellfire, only ever able to let out short bursts before the enemy retaliated with their own shots, forcing him to duck.

“We need to clear one of these sides!” David shouted up at his friend.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Sam shouted back before looking back over the top of the APC and letting out a short burst of fire again.

“Where’s Errant?” David asked, wondering why the Pegasus hadn’t done another strafing run.

Suddenly an auburn blur crashed down into the ground in front of them. David jumped back as he saw Errant Flight twitching on the ground in front of him. He was badly cut on one side of his barrel and had a large gash down one side of his face. With a grunt of exertion he tried to lift himself back to his hooves but collapsed again with a cry of pain and lay on the ground panting.

“Fuck!” David heard Sam shout. “We’ve got them above us!”

David glanced up at the sky and saw a small swarm of Wonderbolts flying overhead, the familiar blue uniforms slightly hidden against the sky but for the yellow stripe.

“Shit,” he seethed quietly. “How are we supposed to deal with them and this?!”

“You deal with the Wonderfucks,” John Constantine suddenly said as he sprinted around the APC to David’s position and smashed his body next to him with a wince. “We’ve got these wankers!”

To reinforce his claim he pointed his shotgun at the group of Newfoal infantry that were still coming at them and fired. A spray of shrapnel hammered into the nearest Newfoals, sending two flying and dropping the others as their already ruined lmbs were shredded.

David spared a moment to see True Grit and Steady join them and begin laying into the remains of the Newfoal force with their own weapons. The P230 didn't require a steadier the same way Hoof’s old P220 had, so Grit was able to lay into the enemy with his own attacks.

Trusting his friends to watch his back, David turned and pointed his own SMG at the Wonderbolts that had decided to stop wheeling overhead and dive down at them instead. David immediately let loose with his own weapon, vaguely aiming for heads and wings. Bullets shot up, ripping apart wings, piercing skulls and tearing apart flesh with ease.

It quickly began raining feathery bodies as the spandex wearing Pegasi crashed down into the ground around them. A few tried to get back up but quickly fell back down again as their injuries overwhelmed them. David and Sam didn’t let up as they picked off one Pegasus after another and soon the skies were clear, the remaining Wonderbolts having retreated for the moment.

“How we doing?!” David shouted again once he was sure there were no more enemies overhead.

“About same as always!” True Grit shouted back between gasps for breath. David looked back at his friends to see that they had succeeded in killing or incapacitating large swathes of the enemy’s infantry.

“We’re clear on this side,” he said. “Sam, how do things on the other look?”

Sam risked a glance to see that there were, in fact, still Newfoals on the other side of the APC. He then turned back to David with an odd look.

“I think our friends back there are handling it,” Sam said with surprising assurance.

***

Elliot shook his head, trying to clear it. His head was aching from the force of the impact, but it could have been worse: he'd certainly been through worse. He looked around the interior of the APC: Horowitz was grabbing a standard PHL M16A4, and Ze'ev was checking her own SMG with a grimace, a cut above her left eye.

“Everyone alright?” Elliot called out.

“Yeah!” O’Riley called back from the driver’s seat.

“Fine,” Horowitz said grimly. Next to him, Abboudi was shaking his head to clear it, before hefting a LMG he had brought.

“Just peachy,” Ducane added with a chuckle. “How about you, glowstick?”

Elliot sighed. “What's the sitrep, O’Riley?”

“Lots of those mad Convies we got told about!” the Blackband said grimly. “We’re talking full on Zerg-rush here!”

“Sounds about right,” Elliot said grimly. With a slightly familiar feeling, he slung his shotgun over his shoulder, gripped his new, PHL-augmented hand-cannon of a revolver in one hand and ‘speed-killer’ in another.

“Orders, Brigadier?” Ze'ev asked.

Elliot smiled. “Simple.” He raised his pistol. “Follow my lead.”

***

Morgause was less than satisfied with the performance of her subordinates. Whilst Creed’s plan was an effective one, their forces had successfully isolated their opponents and she had played her part brilliantly, they were still losing too many soldiers. Once again experience was proving that Newfoals were, though easy to find and easy to replace, fundamentally useless creations.

We shall have better soldiers soon, she thought to herself.

Already one group of humans had succeeded in cutting their forces down, easily slaughtering fifty or more ponies, and the other group - the target group - hadn’t even entered the fray yet.

A shout from her own forces indicated that Creed had decided enough was enough and that it was time to commit the reserves. More Newfoals charged forward, coordinated spellfire allowing them to advance unmolested. She felt much more confident that her forces would succeed if they not only listened to Creed’s orders but were directly led by him.

And then, something new happened.

He stepped into the fray.

***

David raced to join Sam, to see what his friend was. There were at least a hundred more Newfoals coming towards the convoy from the other side, and for a moment David wondered just how the hell they were supposed to survive this…

… and then out stepped the other him.

He held a dagger in one hand, his other hand raised and aiming a massive revolver at the Newfoals. He fired, and one of the things fell back, its brain splattered all over its immediate neighbours. They paused, if only momentarily, and then with a cry from one of their number they charged forward.

And then he started moving.

David couldn't believe what he was seeing: his older self moved with a preternatural speed, crossing the distance between himself and the enemy in seconds. His left hand, the one that held the dagger, struck out and the blade buried itself into a Newfoal’s temple. With barely any exertion his threw the Newfoal back and pulled the dagger out of its destroyed head.

The hand-cannon fired again, obliterating the face of another Newfoal that fell backward into the nearest of its comrades. With some space cleared for himself and the enemy now around him, he whipped the hand-cannon back into his coat and, in the same fluid move, he pulled out another dagger.

Then he really started moving.

He leapt forward, his blade raking across a Newfoal’s throat. He spun around, slicing through two more, before kicking a third, moving with a fluidity David had never imagined himself being capable of. He stabbed a fourth in the throat, left his dagger in the corpse for a moment, pulled the hand-cannon back out, blasted another Newfoal and then holstered the pistol again. He blocked a Newfoal who tried rushing him, punched it across the face, stabbed that one in the throat with a quick motion, and then grabbed his other dagger again, before slicing another Newfoal across the face with two quick slashes, stunning it, and then kicking it in the head, snapping its head back at an ugly angle.

“Shit,” David whispered as the other him proceeded to demolish any Newfoal that came too close to him. Every move he made felled a Newfoal. His daggers flying out and slitting throats, gouging eyes and piercing temples and windpipes.

By this point the majority of the attacking ponies had abandoned their charge on the rest of the convoy and had instead turned their attention to dagger-wielding warrior.

It seemed the other him had also noticed as he put his daggers away, forcing the Newfoals away with surprisingly agile kicks, and held out his hand.

There was a blinding flash of light and suddenly he held a massive, ornate blade, almost as large as he was.

Suddenly any pretense of speed was abandoned and instead he began to swing the blade in massive heavy arcs. The sword cleaved through Newfoals with barely any effort, still moving with speed and grace that should be impossible for a massive and heavy weapon. The Newfoals continued to come at him but now, with dozens of their comrades fallen, their numbers were beginning to thin.

“Don't stand there gawking,” a voice suddenly shouted, snapping David out of his shocked stupor.

He turned to see John pulling Grit and Hoof over the APC, Grit helping to hold Errant Flight up with his telekinesis. David shook his head and, with a grimace, brought his gun to bear and fired, the bullets slamming into more of the things.

“This is nuts!” one of the other Elliot’s troops yelled. “How fucking many are there?!”

“This isn't even the half of it!” Sam called over. “Hell, this is -”

A spell slammed into the APC behind them. Sam brought his SMG up and shot at the target, but another spell impacted in the ground near him. The Newfoals seemed to have adjusted their strategy - their Unicorns were standing back, throwing any and all spells they could at them. David narrowly dodged a spell that nearly caught him, before ending up - somehow - standing next to his counterpart. One of the BDF troopers wasn’t so lucky, taking a hit straight in the chest that threw him back, the charred hole in his kevlar and his still form enough indication that he wouldn’t be getting up again.

“Haven’t had the chance to say ‘hello’!” the older Elliot said.

David didn't answer for a moment, firing at another advancing Newfoal, before dodging another spell.

“Can you do anything about those spells?!” he asked.

The older Elliot frowned, before holding up a hand.

“Everyone behind me!” he called. “I won't be able to extend this very far!”

A golden shield materialised between the Newfoal Unicorns and the BDF and PHL soldiers, the Unicorn spells impacting against it with odd cracking sounds, not unlike the sound of bricks hitting a wall.

“So,” John asked, breathing heavily. “Anyone got a plan for how we get out of this one?”

“Nope,” True Grit said, his grim expression belying his light tone. “The APC got totalled, so that’s out, and we’d never get the other one far enough.”

“Fuck it - let’s just shoot them!” one of the BDF troops said with a snort. He fired another few rounds, before his gun clicked on empty. Growling, he moved to reload - only to find out he was out of ammo.

“Yeah, and now you see why that plan doesn’t usually work,” Sam said with a smirk, though it faded quickly. “Seriously, ‘other Dave’ -”

“Is that what we’re going with?” the older Elliot asked.

“Hey, mine was here first,” Sam defended. “Seriously though - if you’ve got another miracle stuffed in your box of miracles, now would be the time to use it.”

“If I had another miracle stuffed in my box of miracles, I’d have already used it,” the older Elliot said quietly. He grimaced slightly - the Newfoals were concentrating on the shield now, the cracking and slamming sounds intensifying. “As it is, this miracle is taking it out of me a bit more than I’d like.”

A woman who looked like Yael Ze’ev checked her rifle, a grim expression on her face. “Right then. I guess we should get ready for this one.”

The pony with the BDF troops snorted. “‘Ready’ for our imminent death?”

“Story of my life,” the older Elliot said grimly. “I do have one idea…”

“Long as we’re not at the stage of ‘barely even a concept,’ then I think we’re good,” Sam said.

The older Elliot smirked. “Well, it isn’t quite that bad.”

He raised his hands higher, his grimace getting more pronounced, as though he were straining. A moment later, the golden shield exploded outwards, knocking over a good chunk of the Newfoals, though it didn’t seem to do much else. Immediately, the older Elliot swept out his revolver and fired, and the others fired as well - but they were still outnumbered...

And then, impossibly, a loud wheezing, groaning sound began blaring out onto the battlefield. A blue box began to materialise in front of the group, a lamp flashing on top of it, and then it finally solidified with a solid-sounding thunk.

A man stuck his head out of the box, eyes wide, a mop of red hair atop his head. “Alright, you lot, everyone in - NOW!”

***

“No,” Imperial Creed hissed under his breath. “I didn’t account for this!”

“Then ACCOUNT FOR IT!” Morgause snapped. But Creed was already working on it.

New variable, he thought at once. Limited time for response before target escape. Only one option.

“Intensify forward firepower!” he yelled. “Hit them with everything!”

***

Not wasting any time, David motioned for the squad to move. Even as he did so, though, the Unicorn spell barrage increased. One of the other Elliot’s troops was grazed, Sam narrowly missed a spell, and True Grit was forced to raise a shield to block a spell from striking him across the barrell.

“I said in!” the red-headed man yelled. “Come on!”

David fired every shot in his rifle’s clip, trying to cover everyone else’s retreat. A few spells impacted around him, but he managed to dodge a few more.

“Dave!” he heard Sam yell. He glanced over at the box, and saw his friend standing in the doorway. “Everyone’s in, get in, get in!”

David moved at once, sprinting for the box - and then a spell slammed into the back of his shoulder, sending him spinning and pitching into the ground, hard. He yelled in pain.

“David!” he heard Sam yell. Grimacing in pain, David looked up, and held up a hand. The Newfoals were advancing on him - there wasn’t any time.

“Go!” he yelled. “Get out of here!”

“No!” Sam yelled.

“I said go!” David screamed, pulling his sidearm out and firing at the Newfoals as they approached. He heard something that sounded like a scuffle, and then the sound of the wheezing, groaning returned, fading slowly away, and he knew his friend had managed to get out.

Good, he thought to himself, grinning despite his predicament. Come on then, you wankers. Come on th-!

A stunning spell struck him in the face, and the world went black.

***

The TARDIS. No time.

The TARDIS was not the one David Elliot remembered, from the handful of times he had been inside his old friend’s box. Instead of the gleaming white walls and scrappy control console, he saw a dark, concrete-walled construct with chairs and a hatstand. Instead of a burgundy stallion at the controls, a tall human, or someone who looked human, dressed in a tweed coat and corduroy trousers, was stood there, swiping at a plasma-globe esque arrangement on a panel. He glanced up at the soldiers as they entered the room, the door closing behind them.

“Hello all,” he said, a slight smile on his face. “How are we?”

“You!” Sam - this world’s Sam - said with wide eyes. “You're back!”

“Of course I’m back!” the man said with a mock scowl, flicking a switch. “How could I just leave? You lot would get it all wrong without me!”

“Sorry,” Elliot said, holding up a hand. “Who the hell are you?!”

The man chuckled. “It's been a long time since I met you, Major, and I've changed a lot since then.”

“It's Brigadier,” Elliot said quietly. “And… Doctor? Is that you?”

The man waved a hand. “Tada!”

Elliot blinked in surprise. “You… you…”

“It’s good to see you,” the Doctor said with a chuckle. “Good to have friends around again.”

“Forget the happy reunion! We need to get Dave!” Sam yelled, interrupting their conversation. “Those Newfoal bastards -”

“There's no time,” the Doctor said sadly, looking Sam in the eye.

“This is a time machine!” Sam snapped.

“Yes, that can’t go back and change history two seconds after becoming part of it,” the Doctor said sternly. He fixed Sam with a serious expression. “Not to mention: If I could, I already would have. You know as well as I do - there are things you want to change, but you can’t.”

“But they’ll kill him, or worse!” Sam yelled. “We can’t -!”

“We can’t do anything,” the Doctor said softly. “I’m sorry. Really. But it’s already too late.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he lashed out - only for Elliot to catch his fist.

“Sam,” he said quietly. “Don’t -”

“FUCK OFF!” Sam yelled. “You… you fucking imposter!”

Elliot flinched as though struck. “Sam -”

“I thought you were meant to be able to do fucking miracles!” Sam yelled. “Or do you just do that when you’ve got a fucking camera pointed at you?!”

Without waiting for a reply, he shoved past Elliot and the Doctor and went to sit down, leaving the Brigadier alone, eyes wide with shock. The Doctor glanced at him, a mournful expression on his face, and then returned to his console.

Elliot simply stood, his eyes closing as he tried not to simply stop. With a deep breath, he turned to his own squad, who were busy checking themselves over. Horowitz had take a spell to the arm, and was grimacing.

“Are you ok?” he asked the man.

“It’s not too bad, sir,” Horowitz replied. He winced. “Stings a bit.”

The rest of the squad was quiet. Abboudi and Ze’ev were talking quietly, though Elliot couldn’t hear what they were saying. Ducane was simply standing, looking shell-shocked.

Mortimer summed up the mood with a single sentence.

“Well. That all went horribly.”

***

When he woke up, David could feel himself being dragged. To his great surprise, he was still human, still himself. Unfortunately, all that meant was that he had that to look forward to.

Somebody up there must hate me, he thought with a sigh.

David struggled slightly as the Newfoals dragging him shoved him to the ground. He growled at the two of them, before looking at the mare they'd dragged him to. She was haughty, glaring down at him with a vaguely regal air - like she thought she was something. Almost certainly the one in charge. She was glancing at him with a dismissive expression.

“Not the right one,” she said. “You're not the Avatar.”

“Nope,” he said with a snort. “But hey, I could fight you anyway if you like. Would probably beat sitting here on my arse.”

She chuckled. “Spirited at least. That's something worth remembering, if it's even vaguely true of your counterpart.”

“Look,” David said with a sigh. “We both know how this shit ends. Can we skip to it please? I’m a busy fella.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “So eager to surrender to the Empire?”

“Just eager to dodge the inevitable ‘bwahaha, puny human, how awesome are we’ speech,” David retorted. “You heard one, you've heard ‘em all. Ponification can’t be as painful.”

The mare nodded. “If you seek an end to this discussion, you shall have it.”

She motioned, and another Newfoal stepped up, a vial of potion held in hoof. A moment later, the liquid was splashing, and -

***

This wasn’t right.

“No,” Elliot heard himself saying, unable to believe the calm - no, the emptiness - in his voice. He’d heard of people who’d carried on calm, clinical conversations over the phone while being mauled by bears or while having a halfway ponified limb sawed off, sometimes without anesthetic.

Was this what it was like then?

No, he realized. The potion is warping my buck…

His mind.

It was in his head

“Just relax,” a calm voice was saying from somewhere. “It will all be over so-”

There was a sudden flash of light from somewhere.

“Who are you?” the voice asked, sounding less calm. “What's going on-”

***

And suddenly he was sat on a beach.

He blinked, looking around in confusion. He was sat on a beach. How did that work? Why was he here? He had been…

… potioned.

“My name is David Elliot,” he said grimly. “I'm human. I’m human!”

There was a chuckle at that. “For the moment at least.”

David looked to his left, to see a bearded man in a white, hooded cloak sitting next to him, a grey beard poking out from underneath the hood. David blinked.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I go by a lot of names,” the bearded man said simply. “Not all of them necessarily nice names. Slave 421 of section 741 was one of the less nice ones, a long time ago. Then there were more normal ones - Christopher, Richard, Lyra -”

“Lyra?” David repeated. “Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Would Lyra be a better face to wear?” a nearly familiar voice said from David’s right. Elliot turned to look at the owner of the voice, and found Lyra Heartstrings smiling faintly at him. The bearded man was gone from his left.

“But you're not, are you?” he asked. “You're… some deception of that fucking Tyrant.”

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m Lyra Heartstrings. Amongst others.”

“What are you then?” David asked. “You're not… just Lyra.”

“Oh no,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m many things.”

“But you're not some…” he said, trailing off.

“Some?”

“I dunno. Some fucking magic thing Celestia put in the potion?”

“Ah. You're referring to something like that,” the figure of Lyra said, and suddenly a doll of Twilight Sparkle was dangling in front of her, a nasty expression on the ragdoll face. “Configuration daemon. Nasty business. Didn't want to go, but I… convinced it.”

David narrowed his eyes at the little doll. “That’s the thing that converts people?”

“It is in charge of making you - or bits of you - into what you are needed to be by the Empire, so yes,” the figure of Lyra said.

“It isn't pleasant,” a new voice added. David looked to his left again, and this time an albino mare sat watching the beach with a mournful expression. Red eyes glinted, and that alabaster mane and fur was only added to by the white robe she wore, concealing her cutie mark. “As I said though - I convinced it to stand down. Not that it had a choice - there was no way it could have stopped me.”

“If you're not that…” he asked, still staring at the doll, “then what are you?”

She paused, looking up at him. “I’m my father’s firstborn. The first child. I was the one that was meant to be… and the other was the one who was not. But now we both exist, and we both must face up to that, one day.”

“When you say your father,” David said, frowning in confusion, “you don't mean…”

“It's probably best for your sanity that you don't ask that question,” the Albino said with a wry smile.

There was a long moment’s pause between the two of the, as David processed that comment. Finally, he decided to ignore it, and focus on other things. Seemed, as she had suggested, to be the best way to go if he wanted to remain sane.

“So… I’m not going to be ponified?” he asked, hoping against hope.

The Albino glanced at him. “Oh, I’m afraid that is inevitable. The transformative magic has already begun its work. There's nothing you can do to stop it.”

“But…” he said, frowning. “But I'm here. I’m human.”

“This is an illusion,” the Albino said. “You might call it a temporary lotus eater the Tyrant’s Magic sets up to allow the mind to…. acclimatise to its fate. I’ve co-opted it, but the transformative potion will do its work.”

David’s eyes widened. “No - no, why would you… why would you get rid of that thing if there wasn't some way to save me?”

“Saving you was always impossible,” the Albino said quietly. “The person you were is destined to cease to exist, and was from the moment that vile purple… stuff touched you. The only question now is what you will leave behind.”

David slumped, before lying back on the beach. He stared up at the blue sky he knew was fake.

“What is there to leave behind?” he asked blandly. “I’m gonna be a slave to the Tyrant, aren't I?”

“You don't have to be here at all,” the Albino said. He glanced at her, and she was wearing an inscrutable smile.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked.

“If you'd like, we can simply leave here,” the Albino said. “The ponified body would have no soul, no driving force.”

“And then it'd be dead?” David asked.

“Yes,” the Albino said with a smile.

David looked back at the sky. He thought of his friends, the people he was leaving behind.

“But I won't be able to do anything to help my friends,” he said quietly.

The Albino chuckled. “Thinking of them even at your lowest moment. I can see why she likes your counterpart.” David frowned in confusion, but the Albino waved it off. “In any case, we can leave something. A new soul.”

“A new soul?” David repeated. “What - how does that work?”

“I couldn't quite explain how a soul comes to be, because not even I understand all of it,” the Albino said quietly. “But… roughly speaking… it’s a product of two other souls coming into union, even if only briefly. That soul is then shaped by what surrounds it, as well as what birthed it.”

“So… you can just… make a new soul?” David asked.

“We can,” the Albino corrected. “You and me.”

“And…” David said, still not feeling certain. “And what would that make?”

The Albino grinned. “I don't know. That's the most wonderful thing of all. There's no way of knowing what we’d create - just like any other child.”

David nodded slowly. “I… guess it's better than being a Newfoal.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the voice of Lyra Heartstrings said, a smile on the mare’s face. Somehow the transition from the Albino to Lyra was less surprising than he’d expected.

She held out a hoof to him, a smile on her face. Hesitantly, an eyebrow raised at how absurd this all felt, he took the hoof in his hand.

“So what do we do now?” he asked, feeling foolish.

“Hope for our friends,” she replied quietly. “And we hope the soul we leave behind makes the right choices.”

***

Brand new eyes opened slowly, feeling… strange. Her entire body felt like it was tingling with energy, like it was meeting air for the first time and reacting to it. She couldn’t remember anything.

She? Am I a she?

There was a momentary exploration of her own mind - an unusual sensation, in and of itself. She (yeah, going with that) pulled herself to her hooves. Hooves? Is that right?

Yes, of course it was. What a silly question.

She looked at the ground first, frowning slightly as she tried to acclimatise to her body. Her hooves were She didn’t know why she couldn’t remember anything.

Maybe I was just born, she thought to herself. That didn’t make sense, though - she didn’t remember much, but she remembered that if you were just born you shouldn’t really feel like this…

… should you? How should you feel?

She looked around, and suddenly found herself locking eyes with a dark-eyed mare, a long black mane wrapped around her head and a serious expression on her face.

“Greetings, sister,” she said quietly.

Sister? Sister? I have a sister? Is that what you are?

“I…” she said, and she realised she sounded completely differently to how she expected. But what did I expect? “I don’t recognise… I don’t…”

“Your confusion is understandable,” the mare said quietly. “But don’t worry. All will become clear, soon enough.”

Will it? That’s a relief, she found herself thinking.

The dark-maned mare smiled. “My name is Morgause. What is yours?”

I have one of those? Wait -

“Caliburn,” she said suddenly. “My name is Caliburn.”

Morgause raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? Not quite what I had expected - but fitting. And what are you?”

Warrior - loyalty, forbearance, hardiness, generosity, honour…

“A knight,” Caliburn said at once, realising the word that she was trying to find. “I am a knight. A fighter.”

Morgause nodded again. “Interesting - you seem to have been created as a direct opposite of another, a challenger to him. I suppose that makes sense.”

Caliburn frowned, feeling more than a little confused. “Another knight?”

“Of a sort,” Morgause said quietly, her smile returning. “Now tell me, do you remember where the humans were heading?”

Caliburn frowned. “I -”

Bastion. Home of the Reavers. Small shanty town. Heavy defences, mostly top of the range pre-war.

“- yes, I think I do.”

Morgause’s smile became even more pronounced. “Then can you show us the way?”

Caliburn nodded slowly. “And there is going to be a knight there for me to face in single combat?”

“That’s correct,” Morgause said quietly. “And when you face him, you shall triumph.”

“Yes, of course,” Caliburn said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean…”

She trailed off, her thoughts finishing the sentence for her. It’s what I was made for.

Isn’t it?

***

BDF Liaison office, New York.

Operative Lyra Heartstrings was finding herself wishing that David hadn’t run off - or at the very least, that he’d taken her with him. She wasn’t cut out for dealing with R&D people wanting access to Paladin specs, or with dealing with religious nutcases wanting to touch her fur - and she’d had both.

And then, there was the gentleman she was speaking to now.

He was wearing a pristine, sharp suit, his shirt crisp and clean, his tie neat and flat against the soft material, his suit impeccable, buttoned just so, and his waistcoat done up all the way save for the bottom button, left open as was proper for any dignified gentleman. He had a receding hairline, and his face was haughty in a way that suggested one who was used to being listened to when he spoke.

He was also intelligent - Lyra hadn’t known many humans who worked in the circles of government, but most of them, Sato aside, had come across as idiots in nice suits. This man’s eyes, though, burned with keen wit, as though every word spoken, every movement made, was carefully analysed and dissected for anything he could glean from it.

Let him glean, she thought. I’ve got nothing to hide.

“Good afternoon,” she said, as politely as she could (given that she hated offices and desks, that was perhaps a shade less polite than she should have been). “Can I help you at all?”

“I cannot say for sure, Madam Heartstrings,” he responded politely. “But as it stands, I only require a certain measure of background knowledge, on your end.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me - ‘Madam Heartstrings’? I take it you knew my counterpart?”

The man nodded slowly.

“Ambassador Heartstrings was a valuable ally against the Tyrant,” he said accordingly. “I had corresponded with her in the past, mainly regarding the… relations her PHL had with our Government. Her ties with the Crown was the deciding factor behind my support, at the time. Her death was a terrible loss.”

He regarded Lyra with a quizzical look.

“I must say, your uncanny resemblance to her is… rather familiar, and unsettling, in a way.”

“I guess it’d be more so if I didn’t have the cybernetics,” Lyra said dryly. “At least you’re not trying to bow at my hooves. That’s… weird.”

He sighed.

“Of all the ways Ambassador Heartstrings has been remembered, none has baffled me quite as much as this…” He paused momentarily. “...worship, of a sort. No, Madam, I can assure you groveling upon your hooves is not the response I would muster.”

Lyra smiled. “For which, I’m grateful.” She sighed as she checked her desk for something of use. “We can probably have an archivist deliver a summary of key events to your office within the next day, and a more full history… maybe could be collated in a week? It’s all a little fragmentary on our end, I’m sure you understand.”

“I am sincerely grateful for your cooperation, Madam,” the man nodded respectfully. “I only hope the information gathered will suffice for closer relations between our… worlds, as it seems.”

“I can hope so as well, Mr…?” Lyra said, giving him a prompting expression.

“I would prefer if my name is stated off-records, Madam,” he said sternly. “As I have learned in the past, anonymity is the safest route in troubled times, and I can assure you King William has been supportive of my request.”

Lyra nodded, feeling slightly bemused. “Alright. In that case, where am I having the information delivered to? I doubt if you want your name off-records that you’ll give me your forwarding address.”

“My assistant,” he said simply. “She shall be awaiting the delivery, and from there it will be directed towards my office.”

Lyra nodded and made a note. “Alright then, sir, I can definitely have that sent as soon as possible.” She paused, and glanced up at him. “While we’re on the subject of information, however, I was wondering if you might be able to help me in turn.”

“Very well, then,” he replied. “I suppose it’s only fair, in return.”

“Alright,” Lyra said with a slight smile. “I suspect - and stop me if I’ve got the wrong impression here - that you’re the sort of guy who has, shall we say, some influence.”

The man gave a slight nod in response, but nothing else.

“In that case, I was wondering if you could arrange for certain supplies to be transferred,” Lyra said with a slight smile. “I’ve been trying through more regular channels - so has David, er, Brigadier Elliot, but we’ve been stonewalled by red tape.”

“What kind of supplies?” the man asked with a slight frown.

“Mainly circuitry and the tech to build circuitry - gold, wiring, that sort of thing,” Lyra explained. “Oh - and copious amounts of titanium, steel and other metals.”

“I take it you're building something?” the man asked.

“Of a sort,” Lyra replied with a knowing grin. “I suspect you understand the need for discretion.”

The man nodded slowly.

“It can be arranged easily enough,” the man replied shortly, and affirmatively. “Colonel Renee, among others, has been obstructive to some of the more sensitive of my prior dealings, but I can assure you I have enough pull to ensure safe transfer, without prying eyes.”

Lyra smiled. “Sir, I believe I shall come to appreciate working with you.”

Before either of them could say anything else, the door to the office burst open, and the harried looking form of Colonel Munro stormed in, looking troubled.

“Operative, I -” he began, but he stopped short, seeing the suited gentleman. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

“It is quite alright, Colonel Munro,” the man said with a slight, uncanny smirk. “I’m certain you have nothing to say that would be so sensitive that I was not aware of it.”

Lyra glanced from the suited man to Munro, and shrugged. “Go ahead, Colonel.”

“Er… very well,” Munro said, frowning, apparently thinking of how best to put this given the suited man’s presence. “The teams we sent out have gone missing.”

There was a momentary pause, during which the temperature of the room seemed to rapidly drop.

“Sorry, could you say that again?!” Lyra yelled.

Colonel Munro winced - he had always heard about how Lyra was a peacemaker, a mare dedicated to making friends with just about everyone and everypony she could. This Lyra was, to put it bluntly, much more… combative.

“We lost contact with the APCs en route to their destination,” he explained quickly. “We sent teams to investigate, but all they found was one dead BDF trooper, two wrecked APCs, and a host of Newfoal bodies.”

Lyra groaned: this was all she needed. “So you’re telling me they were attacked?”

“Seems plausible,” Munro said quietly. “As of yet, we have no way of knowing what happened to the rest of them, though it’s likely the humans were ponified and the ponies taken prisoner.”

“No,” Lyra said at once. “David couldn’t have been converted, even if the rest of them were.” She frowned, thinking things over. “Were there any other unusual signs present? Any idea of what could have happened?”

“Well, there was a slight imprint on the ground,” Munro said, frowning as he brought the reports out. “But none of our forensic teams could explain it.”

Lyra looked over the reports - sure enough, it was a faint imprint on the ground - square, large… but what could it be?

“If I may?” the suited gentleman asked, holding out a hand. “A third pair of eyes may discover something new.”

Shrugging, Lyra handed him the report. He wasn’t wrong that more eyes could shed light on a problem.

He scrutinised it, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, before he smiled. “The imprint is... familiar, Madam Heartstrings. I believe I have met the, shall we say, person who owns it.”

“Is it a device, though?” Munro asked.

“I am certain of it,” the man firmly said. “A device for travelling, at that. I suspect, wherever your team was going, they are already there.”

Lyra and Munro exchanged glances. Munro’s eyes widened.

“I am a goddamn idiot,” he said. “Of course it’d be him.”

“Him who?” Lyra asked.

“A special attache of mine,” Munro said simply. “He used to do stuff like that all the time.”

Lyra frowned. “Ok - so they’re… at their destination.”

“If I may,” the suited man put in, “a helicopter could get you and a small group of those power-armoured troops of yours to Bastion in the next hour and a half, if you so chose. Conveniently enough, I have a chopper on standby for just such occasions”

Munro looked at the man in surprise, and the suited man chuckled.

“As I said,” he pointed out, “there are few secrets I do not know. You needn’t worry, Colonel Munro. Your secrets, at least, are safe with me.”

With a short bow, he turned to leave, leaving the other two occupants of the room stunned. Lyra shook it off first.

“Right then,” she said quickly, moving from her desk. “I’ve got a chopper to catch. Get Sir Eric and a few of his troops to meet me there.”

“But… if they got there safe, why would you need to go?” Munro asked, following her as she stormed out of the office.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lyra threw over her shoulder as she trotted. “They were attacked but they aren’t dead yet - that means they’re still in danger!”

***

HLF Settlement 'Bastion', Secure Location.

The TARDIS materialised with a slow, methodical groaning that ended in a pronounced thunk, leaving the blue box stood before the walls of Bastion. With a slow creak, the door opened, and the passengers began filing out, one by one. Abboudi and Ducane, Sam Lake and John Constantine, True Grit and Steady Hoof supporting Errant Flight between them, Ze’ev, Mortimer, and finally David Elliot and the Doctor. Elliot tried his best to not feel too downhearted - he was here on a diplomatic mission after all - but he had just left a version of himself to a fate worse than death…

… and been shouted at and cursed by the spitting image of one of his best friends in the world.

He shook his head and concentrated on Bastion itself, a frown on his face as he looked over the entrance to the town.

“This it?” he asked the Doctor.

“Oh, yes,” the man replied with a wry smile. “Only a few hours after your little altercation on the road here, too. I think we made good time.”

There were a combination of wooden palisade walls and a couple of wood and metal towers surrounding the place, giving it the image of one of those old-west forts one used to see in movies. There were also a couple of concrete mixers outside these, men in tank tops and hard-wearing jeans hard at work building what looked to be concrete walls. There were already a few metres of concrete walls in progress, though nothing overly defensible yet.

At the dirt track entrance were two emplacements, both of them packing big turrets that looked surprisingly modern given what Elliot had heard about the HLF. That said, these were soldiers using Armacham tech, according to Munro, so… something must have been going right for them.

“Halt!” an armed man said, approaching them from the town. “Who are -?!”

He paused as he saw the Doctor. “Oh, hey Doc. These guys with you?”

“Yup,” the Doctor said with a small smile. “I believe Brigadier Elliot is expected.”

The soldier looked at Elliot with a frown, then his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the Avatar, right?”

“That’s right,” Elliot said with a smile of his own. “I’m here to speak to your commander.”

“Old Joe’s inside,” the soldier said. “Come with me. He’ll want to see you right away.”

He immediately turned and headed towards the palisade gate, waving to a couple of the guards as he did so. They waved back, and the gate creaked open. Elliot raised an eyebrow as he followed the soldier, the other members of the team behind him.

Inside the gates, there was a small town. The buildings, such as they were, were simple log cabins, only adding to the image of the old west fortress. Armed men were walking about - dozens of them, in fact - but there were civilians too. Elliot could see women and children running around, looking for all the world like normal kids, even as they ducked and weaved between armoured legs.

“So!” a strident voice called out, and Elliot turned to find himself faced with a grey-haired man striding towards him, armoured and carrying a shotgun. The man looked at Elliot with a stern expression. “You’re the Avatar.”

“That’s correct,” Elliot said quietly. “I’m Brigadier Elliot. And you are…?”

“Joseph Rither, leader of the Reavers,” the man replied. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t have a rank. We’ve no need of them here, anymore. Not enought of us since Montreal.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “Alright. I… I guess I should start by asking why you asked me here.”

Rither nodded slowly. “If you’ll come with me.”

He turned and headed for one of the shacks. With no other option, Elliot followed.

Time to do what he had come for.

***

Eyes Unseen

Chapter Fourteen: Eyes Unseen.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
RoyalPsycho,

Editors
The Void,
redskin122004.

***

“Do you believe in destiny?”
Pyrrha Nikos, RWBY.

“Everything has a purpose, Proteus. So the Emperor ordains.”
Chaplain Carnak, Ultramarines.

***

Undisclosed PER camp, U.S.A, ‘Spectrum’ Earth, November 21st, 2023.

Adelaide Morrison frowned as she walked up to the strange pony who had come to meet with her group.

For the last fifteen months, ever since her immediate superiors were killed, Adelaide had been trying her best to do what she knew was right: she had shepherded Newfoals from cities, in some cases bringing them reborn into the world herself.

It was so sad what could happen to Newfoals. Sometimes, they’d march for the Barrier, towards their new home… and not all would make it. And, more often than not, the story went that HLF and PHL would use them as target practice or a testing ground for newer, bigger guns. It made her proud to think that she was making her world that little bit brighter. Sure, most people she’d known hadn’t seen it that way, but one only had to look at how much happier they were as Newfoals to realise that they were better off that way, free of human foibles - anger, hatred, uncertainty… all gone.

It was an improvement, right? There had to be a Night Vale reference for this, but Adelaide couldn’t think of it. Oh well, it couldn’t be important. It wasn’t as if people incessantly used Night Vale to describe newfoals.

She had only rarely had contact with Imperial Ponies themselves - the odd information collector here, the odd Royal Guardspony providing additional supplies there: nothing much, but enough that she felt part of the larger fight. Although she knew her part was ultimately small, it was enough that she had had her place in the grand scheme.

Anything to make a better world, she had always thought. That was her goal: a world free of the corruption of the old world, free of the tyranny of the so-called “elected” governments who served any interest but that of the people, of the politicians who cared only for their pockets. Free to make everything… better.

This mare, though… her coat was sickly blue-grey, not unlike the colour of a drowned corpse, and her thick mane was tangled and black. Across her body she wore a black robe. The entire impression was of something unnatural… wrong, even.

A wrong Newfoal, Adelaide found herself thinking. That’s what she is: one of the things born when the potion goes bad.

Adelaide had heard stories, but she had never countenanced them - they’d always been like fairy tales, half believed and probably utter shit but still something you remembered, when you thought long and hard. It had been inevitable, the stories said - the number of ponifications going on, it was always more than likely that there were some that hadn’t been entirely… right. You heard names - Imperial Creed, Quickblade, Reaper… names that were the names of those things that should have been happy, healthy new ponies, but weren’t.

But they’re on our side, so we tolerate them, the stories always added. There are always the broken in war. The price of our new age.

The strange mare wasn't alone, either: a mare with a green coat, a short black mane and oddly clouded eyes was stood next to her, looking serious and yet, at the same time, curious, as though she understood nothing and everything that she was seeing. She wore a simple set of ringmail, but other than that there was little to set her apart. There were a few regular Newfoals with them, but these two were the ones that caught Adelaide’s attention.

Remembering her manners, Adelaide bowed slightly.

“Hello,” she said simply. “How can I help you?”

The black-maned mare smiled sweetly. “You are Adelaide Morrison, of the PER, correct?”

Adelaide frowned. “Yes.”

“Good,” the mare said. “I am Morgause. This is my colleague and potion-sister, Caliburn. We are here on the business of the Queen.”

Adelaide nodded slowly. “I figured as much, ma’am. What can I do help you?”

“We are here to recruit you,” Morgause said. “What do you know of the human knight who battled a clone of Her Majesty in Boston?”

Adelaide blinked. “I thought that was a PHL PR stunt.”

“Alas, it was not,” Morgause said, bowing her head slightly in a kind of faux-despair - if Adelaide hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the mare disingenuous, but that was surely impossible from a Newfoal.

Nonetheless, her words made Adelaide’s blood run cold: that had been real? A human being had grown limbs back, and if what this mare had said was true, he had battled against the Queen’s clone… had been able to stand against Her radiance.

A human being with all that power… it was not a pleasant concept. Adelaide knew in her heart that humans couldn’t be trusted with that. She wouldn’t trust herself.

“We have been tasked with the being’s death,” Morgause said, “and we require more forces to achieve that goal.”

Adelaide straightened. “There's not many of us, ma’am, but we’ll give our all.”

“I do not require more soldiers,” Morgause said quietly. “Soldiers are simple, and this being has proven able to slay them at his leisure. I need something entirely different - I need a sister.”

Morgause’s horn glowed, and from within her black robe a small vial full of purple liquid appeared. Adelaide’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said simply.

Morgause nodded. “Are you ready to join us in battle?”

Adelaide hesitated only for a moment. She reached her hand out and took the vial.

Destiny was calling.

***

Caliburn frowned as she watched the birth of her new sister. There was an odd sensation creeping over her skin, one she almost couldn’t place. She knew she should feel happy, even as the strange cracking sounds came from the shifting, morphing human form.

So, she thought with a frown. Is that… what is that?

She couldn’t say for certain. Morgause had said that they were a rebirth, a renewal, that they were transcending one form for another, and that they should feel glad for the one who was born anew. But for some reason, all it did was make Caliburn feel uncomfortable - like she was watching something that shouldn’t have been happening.

Maybe it’s because it’s a private moment, meant to be experienced, not witnessed, she reasoned to herself, though that felt like a stretch. If this act was as positive a moment as Morgause described, shouldn’t she feel… more… happy?

That’s it. I should feel happy, and I don’t.

Why?

More importantly, if I’m going through this many hoops to say why I should be happy… what does that mean?

After a moment, the new pony - her sister - was lying there before them. She was alabaster, with a pair of white wings that flexed, as though they were testing themselves. A short, blue-green mane flopped over one eye. Green eyes opened, narrow and full of some sort of indescribable anger, and the mare looked hither and thither, before her eyes settled on Morgause.

“Sister,” she said at once, and she straightened up, a smile on her face. “I am Avalon. I am here to slay the Avatar, in the name of the Sun.”

Caliburn glanced sidelong at Morgause. The black-maned mare was smiling, though there was a certain coldness to it that made it seem less than genuine.

“Good,” she said. Without another word, she turned around and headed off, and Avalon followed without a word. Caliburn fell in line behind them.

“Are you alright?” she asked her new sister as they walked.

“Yes!” Avalon said chirpily, still smiling.

“Are you sure?” Caliburn asked.

“Of course,” Avalon replied happily. “We’re going to go kill our enemy now, for Queen Celestia. That’s enough to make anypony happy.”

Is it? Caliburn asked herself silently. Then… why am I not?

***

HLF Settlement 'Bastion', Secure Location.

Sam Lake watched as David Elliot - the other version of David Elliot - walked off. The blonde FEAR trooper knew that his eyes were red raw from unshed tears, but he still wouldn't let them fall. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. John was sat next to him, looking at him with concerned eyes, and Sam knew his friend meant well… but he hadn’t known David nearly as long as Sam had.

They’d been together through everything, made every choice together. They’d joined up together, fought on the Barrierfall front together, been brought together when Munro drafted them for FEAR… to face life, to face this war, without David by his side felt…

Wrong. Wrong on so many levels that the wrongness threatened to overwhelm him and swallow him up.

‘Together we’re unstoppable’, remember? Sam thought quietly. But you’re not here, are you Dave? It’s just me. And me, on my own…

“Dammit,” he said quietly. “Just… dammit.”

John poked him in the shoulder, and Sam glanced at the older man, who looked sad himself, though he at least seemed to be keeping himself together.

“Mate,” he said quietly. “We’ll all miss Dave. But it isn’t… y’know, it isn’t that guy’s fault.”

“I know,” Sam said quietly. “Believe me, John, I fucking know. I just…”

He lowered his head, not sure how to sum up the feelings he was having. His best friend in the world was gone, and he wanted… he desperately wanted… to find someone, anyone to blame for it. Maybe the other Elliot, this Avatar guy, was just the most convenient target for that rage, that pain… and Sam knew that wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” True Grit said quietly. “Isn’t Erin here?”

Sam threw him a glare. “Yeah. Erin’s supposed to be here. If she’s anywhere - last I heard she’d gotten released, but…”

“Then maybe you should go find her,” Grit said, cutting him off. “God knows, you need something.”

Sam looked to John, who shrugged, then to Steady Hoof, who nodded, and finally to the unconscious form of the injured Errant Flight, who was being looked after by the pony from the other group.

“But,” he said quietly, “I’m needed here.”

“World won’t end if you find yourself a shoulder to cry on,” John said quietly. “I won’t tell anyone if these wankers don’t.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks guys. I owe you one.”

He stood up slowly, and walked over to one of the armoured soldiers, who frowned at him as he approached.

“Whadda you want, PHL?” he asked.

“I want to know if Erin’s around,” Sam said simply. “Tell her Sam’s here, and he wants to see her.”

The armoured man frowned, as though he recognised the name, and then he nodded.

“Alright,” he said gruffly. “I’ll pass it on - it’s up to Erin if she wants to speak to you, PHL.”

“I know,” Sam said quietly.

He moved to sit down again, and John patted him on the shoulder.

“She’s here, mate,” he said, though he didn’t sound as confident as his words made out. “I’m sure of it.”

“I guess I’ll find out,” Sam said quietly.

***

Joseph Rither’s Cabin.

David Elliot found himself stood in the log cabin that - apparently - was the office of Joseph Rither. There was a hammer hung on one wall, a simplistic thing that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of action. There was also a picture of a man with cropped hair and a grey beard hung on another wall: he was digging something, muscular arms and a toned chest visible through a short-sleeved vest. Apart from these sparse decorations, there was very little to the room. A desk, a chair, a sleek-looking rifle propped up against one wall - very little to tell Elliot anything about this man he was meant to speak with.

Rither had moved behind the desk, and was stood by a window, looking out at more of Bastion.

“So,” the older man said after a long moment. “I watched your interview. Your world sounds… well, it sounds fucking horrible, I have to admit.”

Elliot didn’t know how to respond to that, and so he didn't.

Rither turned to look at him. “I saw what you did on that television thing the PHL did. But the PHL are clever. I want to know if you’re the real deal, and not just some fake.”

Elliot frowned. “How exactly am I supposed to prove that? You got anyone here that needs a new hand?”

“No,” Rither said quietly. “But I reckon that’s not a requirement for you showing off some of your fancy magic.”

Elliot sighed. “Alright - you want fancy magic to prove I am who I say I am, I can oblige - on one proviso.”

“Which is?” Rither asked.

“You tell me why I should,” Elliot said shortly, his expression surprisingly stern for the normally quite jovial (or at least relaxed) man.

Rither raised an eyebrow at that, but Elliot’s expression didn’t change.

“Why you should?” the older man asked with a frown. “As in, why you should have to prove yourself? Do you expect me to trust you on your word?”

“Maybe not,” Elliot said. “But I’m the man you asked for.”

“You could be,” Rither said. “Or you could be a glorified actor. You look exactly like a PHL man who came here once, a long time ago.”

There was a long pause.

“My other self,” Elliot said quietly, “is seven years younger than I am.”

“A good actor can pull off ‘old’,” Rither said. “Makeup, CGI. I saw a man fly in a movie from the seventies, so God know what we can do now.”

“Maybe,” Elliot said grimly. “But I’m not him. I’d have him here to prove it, but we left him behind on the road - by now, he's almost certainly dead… or worse.”

Rither’s expression softened. “I’m… I’m sorry to hear that. He stood with us on a bad day.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Elliot said. He held up a hand, and it glowed softly, the soft light illuminating the otherwise quite dim cabin. “But not as sorry as I intend to make the Solar Empire.”

Rither looked at the hand with an appreciative nod. “And you’ve not got any of those fancy runes on you?”

“I can strip down, if you like,” Elliot said with a slight smirk. “Not exactly what I signed up for, but -”

“That won’t be necessary,” Rither said softly, an amused grin lighting up his face. “I think I believe you.” He turned to the picture of the bearded man. “He left me a great burden, you know. Hundreds of good people - the best of the HLF - to be my charge.”

Elliot looked at the picture, a slight frown on his face. “Is that Maximilian Yarrow?”

“Yes,” Rither said softly. “He was a good man - a man who showed us a better way. I dunno where we’d be without him.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “But he’s dead, now?”

“Died a few months ago,” Rither said quietly. “He won't be remembered by anyone but us - but he will be remembered by eternity.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “Why do you want asylum in my world?”

Rither sighed. “The PHL have good men and bad, but thanks to Heartstrings, I think they try to stay good, even though they don't always manage it. The HLF had good men and bad too - but for us, the good got drowned by the bad. Men like Leonid Lovikov, Atlas Galt, Aaron O’Donnell, Mike Carter…” He paused. “You wouldn't know those names, so I’ll make it simple. The name HLF became a brand, a brand that you can't escape from, a brand that makes you scum and nothing else no matter how much blood you spill saving people. We’ve given everything. We’ve gotten precious little back.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “You want a fresh start.”

“Aye,” Rither said softly. “Your world - we can go there, fight without fear of those we fight for shooting us in the back, and we can die for something, heads held high.”

Elliot sighed, scratching the back of his head. “You’re sure your work is done here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rither asked.

“This war isn’t over yet,” Elliot said. “What’s to say you don’t have a place out there, still? A job to do?”

Rither scowled. “When we tried to help, our help got ignored and our good name got spat on. Would you help people who shat on you?”

“Maybe not, but that’s not the question,” Elliot said. “I know a Joe Rither. In my world, he doesn’t run from a fight. Neither does our world’s Maximilian Yarrow. So why are you?”

“Because we aren’t welcome,” Rither said at once. “We never were.”

“You fought for years, though, from what I heard,” Elliot pointed out. “Why now?”

“We fought, and we lost,” Rither corrected. “There comes a time when you’ve got to stop banging your head against a brick wall.”

“Maybe,” Elliot said. “Or maybe you’ve got to take a sledgehammer to it instead.”

Rither said nothing, and Elliot sighed.

“How soon can you get your people packed and ready to go?” he asked the Reavers’ leader.

“They've been packing for four days,” Rither said. “All we needed was your assurance.”

Elliot nodded, and then held out a hand. “You just got it, Mr Rither.”

Joseph took his hand, and shook it firmly. “That's all I needed.”

***

PHL Base, New York.

When Lieutenant Kellman came into Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee’s office, he looked - for want of a better word - terrified, which didn't bode well.

Cheerilee had already had to allow a group of ponies from the BDF - Prince Blueblood of all ponies - to go through to the other Equestria. The Prince had been polite, but determined, and Cheerilee had seen no reason to hold him here or prevent him from going. Nonetheless, it was not ideal. After that, she'd been asked to look into arranging a similar group to send to the ‘Avatar’ Earth. After that, of course, had been a meeting with Bittersweet Harshwinny which… well, it had been an experience.

And now, Kellman was here. He was holding a folder, his knuckles bone white from tension.

“Ma’am,” he said, saluting.

“Lieutenant,” she said with a sigh. “If that's not good news you're holding, there's an old saying about bearers of bad news.”

“Don't shoot the messenger, ma’am,” he said quietly. He pulled out several photos from the folder. “We thought you'd want to see this.”

He handed her the photos and she began looking them over.

“What the hell am I looking at, Mr Kellman?” Cheerilee asked.

“We had satellites looking over Europe,” Kellman replied. “I've been going over the images of the last few days, and we’ve had some… developments.”

“Define ‘developments’,” Cheerilee said irritably.

“Well, as you can see, this was twelve hours ago over Switzerland,” the officer said, motioning to the first few images. “Potioneers were gathering in… well, the report says ‘unprecedented numbers’, but it's safe to say that’s the understatement of the century.”

Cheerilee’s frown deepened as she looked over the photos. “Estimates?”

“Over a thousand, easily,” Kellman said quietly. “The strange thing is this: two hours later, most of them had dispersed.”

Cheerilee blinked, before looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“‘Dispersed’, Lieutenant?” she asked quietly.

“We estimate ninety percent of the assembled forces pulled out,” Kellman reported grimly. “The remaining forces are still gathered, and we think they're taking on troops, but we’ve no explanation as to why the rest dispersed.”

Cheerilee’s frown deepened. “Anything from our sources?”

“Nothing whatsoever,” Kellman said mournfully. “Either they don't know, or they do and they're not deigning to tell us. Either way, it presents a question.”

“Why did they disperse - where did they go instead,” Cheerilee said quietly. She turned her head away. “Alright, thank you for the report. You're dismissed.”

Kellman saluted and exited, leaving Cheerilee alone with her thoughts.

Why do I get the feeling this shit is about to get more complicated? she thought grimly.

***

Bastion.

Elliot stepped out of Rither’s cabin, and took a breath. He had to admit - this place was nice, in a rustic sense. If it weren’t for little touches, he might almost believe it was just a nice, peaceful place in the middle of nowhere. But there were obvious sign that this was more than a town - a tank was sat in amongst the buildings in what might have been town centre, aiming a rusty battle-cannon at the main gate as though it was expecting a horde of Newfoals to swarm in. There were turrets dotted about, manned by grim looking men and women who looked like they’d seen the wrong shade of “too much”, an expression Elliot was all-too familiar with.

Strangely enough, there was also a two-legged Mechsuit with the stamped legend ‘REV6’ right above a handwritten message reading ‘Little Berty’. It was wandering around in a patrol pattern.

Curious, Elliot thought, almost detached, and he felt the almost absurd desire to chuckle. There are more things in heaven and Earth…

“Hey, sir!” he heard a voice call over to him. He looked, to see Ze’ev and Mortimer approaching.

“All fine, Captain,” he said to Ze’ev. “How is everyone?”

“Little shaken from the fight,” Ze’ev admitted. “One thing to hear about a Zerg rush. Another to live through it.”

“Plus those things were fucking creepy,” Mortimer added blandly, as though he were discussing the weather. “Gimme a Convie any day.”

Elliot smiled wanly. “I know what you mean. I had a bit of culture shock when I fought them myself. Plus these ones seemed to have some direction.”

“Is that unusual?” Ze’ev asked.

“For these things?” Elliot asked. “I… think so?”

“Tactics or not, they're still creepy,” Mortimer said with a snort.

“No argument there,” Elliot said. “Still - it’s over for the moment. We got here.”

“Not all of us,” Ze’ev said quietly.

Elliot frowned slightly. “No. Not all of us.”

Mortimer coughed. “Uh… sir, the… the guy, your… the other you’s friend? He’s… not looking good.”

Elliot nodded slowly, feeling a sudden weight seem to descend on his shoulders. He had been dreading that conversation.

Really dreading that conversation.

“No,” he said quietly. “No, I suppose he’s not.”

“Shouldn’t you talk to him?” Ze’ev asked, folding her arms.

Elliot straightened slightly. “I’d like you to help Mr Rither prepare his people for evacuation, Ze’ev. Get the rest of the team on it, and the FEAR people, too.”

Ze’ev nodded, not commenting on the change of subject. “Yes, sir. If that’s all.”

Elliot nodded, and Ze’ev headed off, Mortimer in tow. The Brigadier was left alone, wondering what he should do.

***

Bastion Approach.

Samantha Yarrow jolted awake, her eyes opening in shock. Her hand strayed almost blindly for her sidearm.

“Calm down!” the voice of Peter McReady said. He appeared over her, heavily armoured and wide-eyed, and she relaxed a fraction.

The two of them were in an armoured jeep she’d pilfered when she absconded from the PHL. It wasn't exactly designed for creature comforts, but it was practical and sturdy.

“How we doing?” she asked.

“We’re about fifteen minutes out,” he said, “if I remember my distances and my directions perfectly.”

“And do you?” Yarrow asked.

McReady grinned. “Ish.”

Yarrow chuckled. “‘Ish’. Hot diggedy damn. You're just asking for me to punch you.” She sobered slightly. “So - looking forward to being home?”

McReady didn't answer for a moment, though his face seemed to harden slightly.

“Maxi’s dead,” he said after a moment. “I don't know how much like home it’ll feel.”

Samantha sighed. “I… guess I know the feeling. I don’t even know if I have a home anymore. I thought the PHL was it, but it wasn't. New York wasn't either.”

McReady looked at her. “You’re Yarrow’s little girl. Your home’s with the people who owed him their lives. I promise you that much.”

Samantha smiled wryly. “I wish I believed that. I feel like I spent years hating my father on principle. Now he's dead, I don't know what to believe.”

“You believe that he was a better man than you thought,” McReady pointed out.

“Yeah,” Samantha said slowly. “I guess I do.”

“And now, you get to meet the people who owe him everything,” McReady said quietly. “I promise you - this place will be home for you.” He sighed. “Anyway, we’ll be there soon.”

***

New York. Knights of Albion camp.

Sir Thomas Dayne stood to attention as Sir Eric stood before him. Eric had a pensive expression on his face - which, given the subject of his thoughts, was understandable.

“You're sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said quietly. “We need to test it. I’m willing to volunteer. I am no Iron Clad, and I am not irreplaceable.”

“All our people are irreplaceable, Dayne,” Eric said gently. “I have already lost Sir Jason to a needless sacrifice. I will not lose another.”

“It isn’t needless,” Thomas replied. “We need to know if we are protected from this world’s version of the potion. There is only one test.”

Eric sighed. He had discussed briefly with PHL R&D the effects of an Albion Knight’s abilities, but the question had come up in short order about their effectiveness against the potion of this world. Eric had said he would find a willing volunteer - he didn't like that he needed to, but he had no choice. Already there were volunteers wanting to join the order - how could he ask them to do that if the protection they promised was not universal?

“I have procured a single vial,” he said after a moment. “The stuff is sick, it radiates it, so I’m thankful we only have the one vial.”

Thomas nodded. “One will suffice. We shall have our answer.”

Eric nodded, and motioned to a nearby knight, who dashed off. A moment later, the knight returned, carrying a small box. Eric set it on the ground and opened it gently.

“Be ready, brother,” he instructed the knight next to him. The knight nodded.

Thomas grimaced as he saw the small vial and held out his hand. Eric opened it, still grimacing, before dropping one drop onto Thomas’ palm.

At once, Thomas winced slightly as it hissed against his skin. He could almost feel a pressure in the back of his head.

Submit.

No.

He was a knight of Albion. He had faced the demon brew before and triumphed. This would be no different.

Submit!

Never.

It hissed and crackled, but did not boil. Eric frowned and the knight behind him moved a hand to the hilt of his sword.

“Wait,” Thomas said.

No monkey can resist my will.

I am a knight of Albion, demon thing. I have faced worse than you. You have no power over me.

I will take you and remake you as I see fit.

Something pinged in Thomas’ mind, and the pressure suddenly eased.

No, you won't. This one is already chosen, his fate tied to a higher force than you. You have lost.

The potion suddenly hissed angrily, before evaporating in a hiss of steam and disappearing. Eric breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright, brother?” he asked Thomas.

I am of purpose.

“Yes,” Thomas Dayne said simply. “I am.”

***

Bastion.

“Alright,” the Doctor said, folding his arms as a couple of men in dark grey body armour started moving past him, carrying some heavy looking crates into the TARDIS, “d’you want to possibly be a tiny bit more careful with all that?”

The two men glared at him, but they started moving a bit more gently. The Doctor smiled.

“Hey, Doc!” a voice said from behind him.

He turned, to see the spiky-haired, petite form of Erin Hansen, one of his old acquaintances from the Reavers, standing nearby, arms folded. He smiled at her.

“Erin,” he said. “Good to see you well.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling back, though it was somewhat half-hearted. “Been a long few months. Got captured by the PHL at one point -”

“I’d heard,” the Doctor said quietly, his smile fading. “Still, you're out now.”

“Yeah, I’m out,” Erin agreed. “Kinda wondering whether you had anything to do with it.”

The Doctor didn't answer, though he gave a slightly sheepish smile.

“Heard you took the fall for your high-up PHL friend, too,” Erin added. “That can't have been fun.”

The Doctor nodded slowly, absently fiddling with the cuff of his coat.

“I don't know what you saw in us, Doc,” the girl continued. “Dunno if you still see it. There are days I’m not sure I do.”

“Oh, I see it,” the Doctor said quietly. “I always have. I always will. You were good people, good people bound together by common purpose. It's a shame it's come to this - running from this world to another - but I believe that you’re still good people. I couldn’t let that fall through the cracks.”

“‘Running’,” Erin said, clicking her tongue. “Yeah. That's the part that gets me. Joe says that we’ll be able to make a better life over there. I don't know that I believe that.”

“Why not?” the Doctor asked.

“Because it's running,” Erin said quietly. “Why should we run when we did nothing wrong?”

“And what would you do instead?” the Doctor asked, folding his arms.

Erin shook her head. “I don't think that I know what's best. That's Joe’s job, now. But I don't want to run.”

The Doctor smiled. “I know what you mean.”

Erin sighed. She frowned slightly as she looked over to the nearby PHL troops.

“They sent him,” she said quietly.

The Doctor glanced over. “Yes. Yes they did.”

Erin sighed. “He - he lost his friend, didn't he? He looks like he lost someone.”

“Yes,” the Doctor said quietly. “Yes he did.” He glanced at her. “If I may pry -”

“No,” she said shortly. “Not your business.”

He shrugged. “If you say so, Erin. All I can say is that, in my experience, there’s not enough love in the world.”

Erin snorted. “You got that right.” Her expression softened. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Don't mention it,” he said with a smile. “Now, I'd better go keep an eye on this lot, or they'll get it all wrong without me.”

He headed off to help a couple of men who were lifting a crate marked ‘fragile’, leaving Erin alone with her thoughts.

***

New York.

There were about twenty of them - some in their power armour, others in patchwork combinations of plate armour and modern battle-gear, swords girt at their sides. Men, women, even a couple of ponies.

It was stupid, really - the desire to join a self-styled ‘knightly order’. And yet, strangely, Sylvia wasn't the only one there. There were about five or six people and ponies - PHL all - who had come with her, all of them looking a combination of bemused and nervous. And why shouldn't they? This was patently ridiculous - people playing at chivalry and knightliness in the middle of a war. And yet, somehow, every single one of the Knights surrounding them looked utterly serious, focused even.

The “official” line on joining these guys was… well, that there wasn't an official line. Nobody had said not to, probably because nobody had asked.

The leader - the young, dark skinned man they called Sir Eric - was standing on a makeshift stage (really, little more than a few boxes). He wore his power armour, looked solemn and dignified.

“Welcome,” he said sombrely. “Are you all prepared? Any questions?”

“What’s the process?” Sylvia asked. “This was honestly kind of a spur of the moment thing.”

“This is not a decision to take lightly,” Eric cautioned. “What is done cannot be undone.”

“If you can take it, then so can I,” Sylvia said.

“Very well,” Eric said, nodding slowly. “We are imbued with a small measure of the Avatar’s power. It grants us gifts - if we believe. A knight of Albion is stronger, faster than a normal fighter. And we are protected.”

“Is there a catch?” asked one pony with a cutie mark of a halberd.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked.

“Last time someone offered these people transcendence, there was a catch,” halberd pony said. “So… what is it?”

Eric nodded slowly. “I suppose we don't know what every effect is. We know only what we have experienced - strength, protection, a sense of purpose.” He smirked. “I don't think any of us are sterile.”

“Sir Janice got pregnant a few weeks ago,” one knight piped up. “So, no, not sterile.”

“As I say, though, you need to believe,” Eric said, “or the process is useless.”

“Believe in what, exactly?” one man asked. “I’m… I’ve been a bit soured to God, lately. The little feeling in the back of my head that He’s listening? It’s gone. He hasn’t said anything for awhile.”

“Most of us believe in the Avatar,” Eric said quietly. “We have seen what he has accomplished. I stood with him at Cornwall when he turned aside an entire army - I held Excalibur itself. But others here have their own faith. What matters is that you believe.”

“What's the protection from?” someone else asked.

Eric smiled. “I will show you.”

He motioned, and one knight brought a small, locked box onto the stage, set it down, and unlocked it. From it, Eric retrieved a single vial of a very familiar looking purple liquid.

“Motherfucker,” the halberd pony said.

“Least you’ll be immune,” said the man who’d claimed to be soured to religion. But it was an act. Anyone could see that.

“It holds fear for you, does it?” Eric asked. “This vile demon brew?”

“Of course it does,” the man said angrily. “Have you seen Newfoals?! Why the fuck would you keep this?! We burn every ounce of it. It’s the only thing we can think of that gets it gone before we need the ground decontaminated.”

“No,” Eric admitted. “Only Converted, and this is the potion of our world that makes them. But the effect, I imagine, is roughly analogous.” He uncorked the vial. “Fear is powerful. It is a test of faith. The truest test.”

He held up his bare right hand, and dripped a small amount of potion on it.

And nothing happened. He didn't change, or wince. The liquid slowly fizzled, before evaporating in a hiss of steam.

“Is it a trick?” someone asked. Halfheartedly.

It wasn’t. These people… the Avatar had shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“It is no trick,” Eric confirmed. “Though of course, you're welcome to try it for yourself.” He chuckled. “I wouldn't recommend that.”

He spread his arms wide. “Who will step up first?”

“How…” the pony breathed.

“That's crazy,” someone else said with a disbelieving shake of their head.

And Sylvia, before she realized it, was stepping up to Sir Eric.

“Well,” Sylvia said. “I think I believe in God. A hell for everyone that drove the world to the brink… and a heaven for everyone that did their best. So… Fuck fear.”

Eric nodded slowly. “What is your name?”

“Sylvia Garcia,” she said. “I… I watched my parents get ponified in New Mexico.” She didn’t know why she’d said that. “I don’t care what this looks like. If I never have to be afraid of being like them, never have to wake up screaming, know that I can walk through what the Empire throws at us…”

She shrugged.

“Well. Fuck fear.”

Eric nodded, a smile on his face. “That, I respect.”

He motioned to one of his men, who brought forward another case. This one was long and thin, and when Eric opened it, it contained a sword - simplistic, a few markings etched in that might have been runes.

“Kneel, Sylvia Garcia,” Eric intoned solemnly.

She did so, shaking slightly, bowing her head almost instinctively.

“You are charged with sacred purpose,” Eric said solemnly. “The defence of humanity. The protection of the weak and helpless. The upholding of truth and honour. In this cause, you may be asked to lay down life and limb. Do you understand and accept?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I accept. If it’s bad enough I can’t solve it by walking through the potion, then someone has to lay down their life”

Eric placed the flat of the blade on her right shoulder, then her left, before turning the pommel of the blade and extending it to her. Hesitantly, she gripped the hilt of the sword, before standing.

“Henceforth, you are Sir Sylvia, first knight of this new world,” Eric said loudly. “Now.” He held up the same vial. “We test your faith.”

Sylvia nodded, before holding out a hand. Eric tilted the potion, and Sylvia didn't flinch as the purple liquid dripped onto her palm…

Mom screaming. Dad… laughing.

They’d want me to be strong.

...and the purple gunk melted into steam, a soft hissing sound escaping it.

Sylvia stared at her open hand. At the limb that was most certainly not a hoof. At a conversion process that didn’t destroy her mind and body…

There’s not even a burn mark, she thought. Not even dead skin.

...And started laughing hysterically.

She didn’t know why. It didn’t make sense. But here she was. Unponified, laughing, finally at least mostly safe.

“I feel like I could find the monster in my closet as a child,” she said when the laughs subsided. “And throttle the bastard.”

“Welcome, sister,” Eric said softly. He was smiling proudly. “I promise you - this is only the beginning.”

And Sylvia Garcia believed.

***

Bastion.

Sam Lake scowled as the other Elliot walked slowly up to him. The man sat opposite him, a frown on his face.

Too many lines. Hints of grey. The stubble too long. Not David, even if he is David.

“So,” the Not-David said.

“So,” Sam replied.

“You’re mad at me,” the other man said softly.

“No, I’m not,” Sam said. Even he didn’t sound convinced by the time the words left his mouth.

“You’re not okay either way,” Elliot said. “Can I…”

“What? Talk to me?” Sam asked, scowling. His expression softened slightly. “Shit. This - look, I’m not gonna keep saying I’m not mad. But…”

He trailed off.

“He was your best friend,” Elliot said quietly.

“We went to see Day of the Doctor together,” Sam said softly. “We went to join up together. We made it through all of this - all of this shit together. And now…”

“Now he's gone,” Elliot said quietly. “And you don't know how to feel.”

“It’d be easier if there was a body,” Sam said, “but there isn't. Even if there was - he's been potioned, hasn't he? No two ways about it. He's one of those things.”

Elliot sighed. “Yeah. He probably is.”

“Fuck,” Sam swore. “Just… fuck.”

Elliot sighed, before sitting next to him. “I know this isn't exactly what you want to hear, but… well, I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” Sam asked blandly.

“What do you think happened to you?” Elliot asked quietly, looking at him with haunted eyes. “Battle of Whitby. You led one squad, I led another.”

Sam nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “And then?”

“And then you attacked me, and I killed you,” Elliot said stiffly. “It… wasn’t… I don't like thinking about it.”

Sam nodded again. He sighed. “You… you've seen a lot. Maybe more than me or David ever did. And you've a lot more riding on your shoulders.”

“You might say that,” Elliot said with a wry smirk.

There was a pause for a long moment.

“D’you still watch Doctor Who?” Sam asked after a moment.

“I… don't think it exists,” Elliot said with a slightly confused expression. “Is it anything like Professor X? I mean, I know a Doctor Hooves...”

“Time Lord, bigger-on-the-inside time machine, that kind of thing?” Sam asked. “Wait. Doctor Whooves?”

“I… I don’t know, it’s kind of confusing,” Elliot smiled. “Anyway - it all sounds similar to Professor X, except that the Professor’s people are called ‘Sentinels of History’ and his machine - the SATNA - isn’t bigger on the inside - it's more like his own personal pocket dimension that he can move the access port to…”

***

Bastion Entrance

When the jeep pulled up, Samantha and McReady both got out, arms held up as the guards approached them, rifles raised. Samantha noted the top-tier equipment, just as she'd been told to expect, and smiled softly.

“Alright,” one of the guards said. “Who are you, and why -”

“Shut up, Karl,” McReady called out. “It's me. I’m back.”

The guard lowered his rifle. “Peter? That you?”

“Aye,” McReady said with a slight smirk. “I came with a friend.”

Samantha nodded. Karl frowned at her for a moment, before his eyes widened.

“Is that who I think it is?” he asked.

“Who do you think I am?” Samantha asked quietly.

“Maxi showed me a picture of you, not long after my little girl died,” Karl said. He motioned. “Come with me, you two.”

He motioned for the gate to be opened, and a moment later they did, creaking slightly, allowing Samantha and McReady to follow Karl. She glanced back, noticing that her jeep was being entered and started up by another Reaver.

“Welcome to Bastion,” Karl said, and Samantha turned back to look at the small town.

Soldiers - or armoured individuals, anyway - walking hither and thither, some giving her a look.

“Welcome home, Samantha,” McReady said quietly.

***

Outside Bastion.

Three Newfoals stood atop a hill overlooking Bastion. The forest was hiding them from view.

“There it is,” Morgause said quietly, a cruel smile playing across her features. “The fortress of the Reavers - Maximilian Yarrow’s folly. Poor fool.”

Caliburn frowned, scrutinising the palisades and concrete walls with a practiced eye. “It seems well guarded, but with enough force -”

“Yarrow’s deluded followers are not today’s target,” Morgause said. “The Avatar within those walls is.”

She turned to Avalon, who was standing still as stone, as though waiting for orders. Morgause removed a loose rock from the woods, and wrapped a parchment around it carefully. Her horn glowed, saturating the rock, and then she passed it to her sister.

“Drop this in their courtyard,” she instructed Avalon. “Do not injure any of them - we only want their attention, not their ire.”

“I understand,” Avalon replied. She grabbed the rock and took to the sky at once.

“As for you, sister,” Morgause said. Her horn glowed again, and a long stick slowly floated into the air. “I have a gift.”

The stick crackled with energy, glowing and twisting, until suddenly there was a flash of light, and in place of a stick, there was a sword - it was long, gleaming silver with a black hilt, a sapphire set into it. The name Caliburn was etched along the blade.

“For me?” Caliburn asked.

“For you,” Morgause said. “It is your destiny.”

***

Bastion.

It hadn’t really been Sam’s fault - or Dave’s, for that matter - but at some point, Dave had just been out of it.

He’d just… shut down for a second, said he wanted to sit by himself for a bit.

What was that about? Sam wondered. There’s… there’s a lifetime of things he went through that I didn’t. Is it me? Am I pissing him off, the same way he pissed me off? Am I too much like his friend, just like he’s -

He thought for a moment.

Actually, how many of the same things did we go through?

It was as he wandered aimlessly through the camp that he bumped - almost literally - into Erin.

They stood, staring at each other for a second.

“Got any beer?” Erin asked.

“No. You?” Sam asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Erin said. “It’s terrible and we have to brew it ourselves.”

“I might be willing to-” Sam started.

“No, you might not be,” Erin sighed, as she collapsed on the porch of a prefab. “This is so…”

“So what?” Sam asked. “I was going to go with crazy.”

“That works,” Erin sighed. “PHL in Bastion. It’s something we hoped would never happen again.”

Sam decided he didn’t want to touch that one. “Really. Everything else and that’s what you’re questioning.”

“I’m starting small, Sam,” Erin said. “Someday, I may actually end up understanding that there’s an alternate version of Dave that just happens to be a demigod or something.”

“The alternate version of Dave whose world you want to evacuate to,” Sam added.

“I figured it’d help me understand,” Erin said.

“I think we’re all having trouble with that one,” Sam sighed. “I… I watched that on TV. The other Dave growing back a potion-amputee’s hand.”

“Is it… really Dave?” Erin asked, confused.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What?”

“It’s just that he’s Dave,” Sam said. “But I don’t know how much is our Dave. It’s not like we didn’t go to uni together, but… I’m thinking… let’s say I try to tell him about the time I went and tried to date that girl at that coffeeshop. Is he going to remember it, or is he going to tell me that I decided against that?”

“What difference does it make?” Erin asked.

“That all the little details might just be off,” Sam explained. “I might drop some cue. I could be talking about how he was commiserating while writing an essay on Tolkien, but Dave… the Avatar… might say he was writing about China Mieville.”

“I honestly can’t think of Dave writing essays on Mieville,” Erin said.

“It’s the little things,” Sam said. “I’ve said a lot of things that I’d expect him to react to, but he just doesn’t even bat an eyebrow.Maybe I’ll say that, but… it’s like he’s so close to my Dave, I could almost touch him… but h-”

Before he could say anything else, there was a sudden commotion, and with a heavy thunk, a rock wrapped in what might have been parchment landed in the centre of the courtyard, narrowly missing an armoured Reaver.

“Check the skies!” someone yelled, and the soldiers sprang into action.

***

Elliot approached the rock carefully, a frown on his face. Whoever had thrown it had saturated it in magic, most likely seeking to get his attention.

“Major Elliot?” he heard Ze’ev ask. “What is it?”

Elliot didn't reply for a moment. He knelt by the rock, a hand grazing it. The magic dissipated, and he gently unwrapped the parchment. A message was written on it.

The woods beyond Bastion. Your destiny awaits, Avatar of Albion. Are you ready to meet it?

Elliot frowned.

“Sir?” Ze’ev said again.

“A message,” he said, standing up slowly. “It's a message.”

“Who from?” Ze’ev asked, frowning at it. “What do they want?”

“If I had to guess, the leader of the ponies who attacked us on the road,” Elliot said quietly. “As for what they want?” He rolled his shoulders. “Me.”

“You're not gonna go?” Sam asked, eyes wide in shock. “It's a trap! Like, the most obvious trap in history!”

“I know,” Elliot said, smiling slightly. “I’m good at traps. What’ll they do? Potion me?”

“Yes,” Ze’ev said bluntly.

“And you know how that goes.” He turned to Ze’ev. “Help set up a defence. They might try to attack.”

“Understood,” the Captain said grimly. “And you?”

Elliot smiled grimly. “I have an appointment.”

***

Outside Bastion.

Caliburn took a breath, trying to steady herself. Nearby, Morgause and Avalon were stood, watching the little shanty town with eager eyes.

“So,” Caliburn said, trying to be conversational. “If I may, how am I supposed to fight a being like him?”

Morgause didn’t respond, and Avalon merely turned to look at her like she’d spoken French.

What is French, anyway?

“Forgive me,” Caliburn said, “but from what I’ve heard, this being fought a mirror-pool duplicate of our Queen to a standstill. Does not this suggest that he is more powerful than only one of us?”

Avalon looked at her again. “Do you have doubts, sister?”

“Of course not,” Caliburn insisted. “I just question the strategy’s… efficacy.”

“You mistake the strategy’s purpose, that is why you doubt,” Morgause said softly, and Avalon looked at her. “Today is not the day the Avatar of Albion will die.”

Avalon frowned. “Sister, we exist to slay that being. The Queen will brook no delay.”

“Delay is necessary,” Morgause said patiently. “The first engagement showed us that he is powerful - throwing warm bodies at him will only result in him making them dead bodies.”

“It is our duty to die for the Queen,” Avalon insisted.

Morgause glanced at her, a slight frown on her face. “I do not question it. Do you question my devotion?”

“I - no, sister,” Avalon said. “But -”

“Then silence,” Morgause said. “He will step outside of the fortress of Maximilian Yarrow’s folly, and when he does we will take his measure.”

“Which is where I come in?” Caliburn guessed.

“Precisely,” Morgause said. “You are not meant to slay him - nor to be slain by him,” she added in what might have been an effort at reassurance. “Your mission is to gain his measure, and in your doing so, we will learn how to best him once and for all.”

Caliburn nodded slowly. Alright. Alright.

She had to admit - there was something enticing about the prospect of duelling this enemy: of fighting to prove herself against him. It felt like something that she was meant to do. Her forehoof moved idly to the hilt of the blade slung across her back.

What I’m meant for. Her eyes glanced up at the sky. But…

Is it all that I am?

***

Outside Bastion.

He walked into the woods, his eyes narrowed at the empty spaces between the trees. His skin itched, almost pre-emptively. It was like the air itself was full of something off, something tingling in his mind like a waiting axe, wanting to fall on his neck.

“So,” Elliot said aloud to the world, “does anyone want to step forward and do this like men, or ponies, or whatever? Or are we content to hide?”

Who’s hiding? a voice seemed to echo through the woods.

“Well, seeing as I can’t see you,” Elliot said with a shrug, “I guess that’d be you.”

Forgive me if I don’t wish to step forward like a lamb to the slaughter, the voice said sibilantly. I wish to be alive at the end of this day.

“Then you picked the wrong side and the wrong enemy,” Elliot said grimly. He cracked his knuckles. “Come on out. Let’s do this.”

If you insist on a battle, the voice said, our sister will provide.

“‘Our’?” Elliot repeated. He turned around again at the sound of leaves crunching - and then he saw her.

She was a mare. Her fur was forest green, with a deep, almost sea-green mane, cut short into a bowl cut. A sword was slung over her shoulder, its style and design not unlike Excalibur, if Excalibur were made for one of a pony’s stature. She was looking at him with a serene expression - not one of anger or disgust, but one almost of contemplation - or remorse.

“Greetings,” she said softly. “I am Caliburn.”

Elliot frowned, and suddenly he understood.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “I know who you are. Or who you were.”

“Then you know more than me,” she said quietly. “I’m still not certain of my place. But I know that my sister says you are our enemy.”

“I am,” Elliot said quietly. “I’m the enemy of the Tyrant that made the potion that turned you from you into whatever mockery I’m looking at.”

She frowned slightly at that. “I see. You think there's something wrong, something unnatural, in me.”

“I’d ask if you could feel it too,” Elliot said angrily, “but I’m afraid I’d be disappointed.”

“Oh, I do feel it,” Caliburn said softly. “I feel it in my bones. Something’s… missing. Incomplete.”

Elliot frowned at that. This was certainly more… verbose than he'd been expecting from a Newfoal.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I was born not knowing anything, except what I am told is true,” Caliburn said quietly, a frown on her face. “I was born feeling as though there was more - a greater destiny waiting, beyond this.”

Elliot flexed a fist. “Maybe there is. Maybe you don't have to fight for a cause you don't believe in.”

“I don't believe in any cause,” Caliburn said, tilting her head. “Isn't that strange? Avalon, my sister, speaks as though there is nothing but the cause, and Morgause… well, Morgause is as she is. But me? I don't believe in the cause. I just do what Morgause says.”

“Why?” Elliot asked.

“Because I don't know what else to do, what else there is to do.” The mare took a deep breath. “But it doesn't matter. My duty has been set before me, and I must perform it.”

She stepped forward, a single hoof going to the sword at her back. Elliot tensed.

“First,” she said quietly, “the formalities.”

With a flash of movement, she suddenly threw a vial at him. He held up a hand reflexively and the vial smashed across his arm. There was a hissing sound and an itching sensation, and then the potion dissolved into steam.

“As expected,” she said, a slight smile gracing her features. “Now - as Knights, we fight to the death. Yes, that sounds about right.”

“We don't have to do this,” Elliot said quietly. His hand extended outwards, Excalibur materialising.

“I think we do,” Caliburn said, one hoof going to the hilt of her sword. “Do you accept, Sir?”

He growled and raised Excalibur into a guard stance.

“Yes,” he replied. “I accept.”

“To the death then,” she said, “for the honour of my lady.”

And suddenly she leapt forward, her sword flashing out. He brought Excalibur up to block, and for a moment the two held their clash, before she suddenly leapt above him, the sword moving from her forehoof to one of her back ones, lashing out and forcing him to block it. Deftly she released her sword and grabbed it with another forehoof, before launching a blistering spate of attacks, moving like a tornado. He blocked strike after strike, but he couldn't help but be forced on the defensive by her attacks.

“Come on!” she yelled. “Is that all you -?!”

He sidestepped, parrying a blow before slamming Excalibur’s pommel into the side of her head. She staggered, and only just dodged a sweeping hack made to take her head off. She leapt into the sky, backflipping away from him, before bringing her sword into a relaxed guard, a smile on her face.

“That… that was invigorating!” she said with a cheerful tone he hadn't heard from her before. “I enjoyed it!”

“So glad to amuse you,” Elliot growled.

“No, not amused,” she said, “but -”

She grinned, before suddenly jumping at him again. He dodged a thrust, and blocked a swipe, before stepping back as she brought her blade down in a hacking motion. As she began striking again, Caliburn began speaking, almost as though reciting.

“Memories broken, the truth goes unspoken, I’ve even forgotten my name…”

Her blade moved from hoof to hoof as she dodged and span, moving like a leaf twisting in the wind.

“I don’t know the season, or what is the reason I’m standing here holding my blade…”

She thrust forward again, and he parried the blow before riposting, forcing her to block the strike and step backwards.

“I remember that from somewhere!” she said, almost excitedly. “I remember -!”

He dashed forward, knocking her blade out of the way and shouldering her to the ground. She rolled to the left of his downward hack and kicked up with her back legs, forcing him to jump backwards, and then she stood, grinning.

“I remember you,” she said. “The lonely knight desperate to save his people. You're alone and afraid but you fight on, anyway, knowing that you're doomed, because it's all you have left.”

“Nice to know not all of my other self is gone,” Elliot said dryly. “But it's not important what you remember. You're a mockery of him, nothing more.”

“‘Nothing more’, huh?” Caliburn asked, grinning. “Well, if you really think so, then by all means…” She moved into a guard stance. “Come at me.”

***

Bastion.

Everyone was running around, looking confused or scared. Joe Rither was motioning to his troops to man the palisades or take up other defensive positions, and they were moving with an efficiency that belied their more ‘amateur’ origins.

Samantha Yarrow had jogged up to Rither as soon as the nonsense began.

“How can I help?!” she asked.

Joe had looked at her, his eyes widening in what might have been recognition, but he had pointed to a defensive tower.

“Get in that and tell me what’s out there,” he said. He passed her a radio. “Frequency preset 4. Go.”

Hefting her Type-7, Sam jogged over to the tower, climbing the ladder up to the top as quickly as she could. Once there she found a set of binoculars, and after a quick dust she put them to her eyes, looking around.

“Reaver One to Tower Two,” she heard Rither’s voice buzzing in her ear after a moment. “Samantha. That's you. Report, over.”

She tapped her headset. “Not seeing anything - no Pegasi, no Newfoal forces. If they're out there, they're better hidden than anything I’ve seen, over.”

“Acknowledged,” Joe said. “Keep watch, make sure -”

“Wait!” Samantha said, her binoculars turning on a small black shape approaching Bastion. “There's something incoming, over.”

“I need a better description, Samantha, over,”
Rither said sharply.

Samantha adjusted her binoculars. “Looks like… its a helicopter. Top of the range - can't be PER, over.”

“Any sign of markings, over?” Rither asked.

“Hold,” she said. She adjusted the binoculars again. “Can confirm PHL markings, over.”

“Roger,” Rither said. “Out.”

Samantha frowned as the copter approached Bastion, before slowly landing on a pad further back from the palisade. She saw a few figures disgorged from it - soldiers in tough-looking armour - was that power armour?! - led by…

“Shit,” she swore, as Lyra Heartstrings stepped off the helicopter.

***

Landing Pad.

Operative Lyra Heartstrings grimaced slightly - she’d always hated the noise of helicopters. Almost immediately, she saw a muscular black man in heavy armour approach her and her team.

“Ma’am,” the man said. “I’m Preston. Mind me asking what you're doing here?”

“Lyra Heartstrings,” Lyra said by way of introduction.

“I know who you are, ma’am,” Preston said.

“I’m here looking for my people,” Lyra said. “I’ve got reason to believe that you’ll be under attack presently.”

“We know,” Preston said grimly. “Joe’s got us setting up our defences already.”

“Well, my people can help,” Lyra said. She turned to the lead soldier, a woman in all-enclosing power armour. “Samantha, get our troops deployed!”

“Ma’am!” the Iron Clad replied smartly, before motioning for her squad to follow her. Lyra turned to Preston.

“Where's David Elliot, the Avatar?” she asked.

Preston sighed. “You're not gonna like the answer to that.”

***

Outside Bastion.

Elliot blocked another blow, snarling as he riposted, only for Caliburn to backflip away. She was getting more confident, her moves more energetic, and she seemed to have no limit to how much energy she could use.

The worst part was her smile. It wasn't the smile of a Newfoal - it was a genuine, heartfelt smile. She was enjoying this, on some deep, profound level.

He parried another blow, dodging backwards as she swept her blade out at him, before he stabbed forward - only for her to parry him and riposte, forcing him to quickly block. He shoved her sword away and hacked at her, but she dodged that blow too.

“Stop trying to hit me and hit me!” she said with a short laugh. “Now, where is that from -”

He kicked out, sending her reeling back, and he lashed out again, but she backflipped away again, before moving into a guard stance. Elliot stepped back, settling into his own defensive posture, and for a moment they stood still, stalemated.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked her. “If you don't believe in your cause -”

“I don't believe in any cause,” Caliburn corrected. “Not yours, not Morgause’s. Why is that difficult to accept?”

“Because you fight too well for somepony who doesn't have a cause,” he asked. “What are you? Rincewind?”

“I’m not some… some eternal coward!” she yelled.

“Besides which,” Elliot said, ignoring her reply, “You’re too human for anything Celestia would make.”

“Maybe that's the point,” she said. “Or maybe there isn't one.”

“You’re pointless?” Elliot asked. “Is that what you’re saying? Because most of the Newfoals are, from what I’ve seen.”

“Maybe we all are,” Caliburn quipped, grinning. “Maybe the only point is what we choose.”

“Did you choose this?” Elliot asked.

Caliburn paused. “No.”

“Would you have?”

She shrugged. “I don't know.”

Elliot began pacing, circling her, his guard adjusting to match his position. Her guard adjusted too, following him slowly.

“You're a knight,” he said after a moment, “or you posture as one.”

“I am one,” she said simply.

“And yet,” he said, “you're serving Celestia out of choice - even the choice to not make a different choice.”

“Isn't a knight supposed to serve their liege?” Caliburn asked.

“A knight is supposed to protect the weak, the innocent,” Elliot retorted. “A knight eschews meanness and cowardice, fights with honour and keeps faith. You? You have no faith, and you fight for those who hurt the weak and the innocent alike.”

Caliburn frowned. “And what else is there?”

“Defect,” he said at once. “Surrender and defect. You can be a great ally to the BDF or the PHL or whoever you want to -”

“How would it be ‘keeping faith’ to turn traitor?” she asked snappishly.

“How is it being knightly? How is it keeping faith to fight for Celestia’s cause just because you haven't got anything better to do?” Elliot countered with a smirk. “You know I’m right.”

Caliburn sighed. “I -”

“David!” a voice called from the distance. Elliot turned, looking for the source of the voice. When he turned back, Caliburn was gone.

“Dammit,” he swore.

A moment later, Lyra arrived, breathless from running but looking determined. Her expression softened when she saw him standing alone.

“David?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

He didn't answer for a moment, Excalibur slowly dissolving away, but then he turned and smiled at her.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. “I think Bastion’s probably safe from attack now. We can get on with evacuating.”

Lyra nodded slowly. “I can have the Clads help with that. I brought them to help fight, but - well.” She paused. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“I will be,” he said quietly. “I will be.”

He walked back in the direction of Bastion, and Lyra followed slowly, not sure what had happened - or what she could say.

***

In a clearing, not far from Bastion, the three Caliburn class Newfoals stood.

“So,” Morgause said. “You were stalemated against his untransformed self.”

“Yes,” Caliburn said quietly.

“Good,” Morgause said. “We’ve learned your limits and his in that form. There is something to take from this.”

“I still say we should attack him now,” Avalon snarled. “One swift attack by all three of us -”

“He wields powers we do not comprehend yet,” Morgause said softly, her voice a sibilant hiss that silenced all dissent. “We will only attack when victory against him is assured. We are not the ordinary Newfoal, to be wasted and thrown aside. We are different - we are special.”

Avalon nodded. “As you say.”

Caliburn nodded too, though it was half hearted.

‘How is it keeping faith to fight for Celestia’s cause just because you haven't got anything better to do?’

She rolled her neck slightly, trying to ease some of her tension. Maybe she was wrong to fight with Morgause and Avalon, or maybe she wasn't.

She would find out soon enough.

***

Author's Note

I was gonna title this "The Only Thing I Know For Real (there will be blood shed! THE ONLY THING I'VE EVER KNOWN!") but then I remembered the actual title. Uhhhh... whoops. MAH MISTAKE

The Approaching Storm

Chapter Fifteen: The Approaching Storm.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
RoyalPsycho,

Editors
The Void.

***

“It is an army bred for a single purpose - to destroy the world of Men.”
Aragorn, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.

“Some days I know that if I let my brain fully understand what my gut was propelling me into, it'd chuck itself out my ear.”
Spider Jerusalem, Transmetropolitan

***

Joint PHL/BDF manned base, Boston. 22nd November, 2023.

A little convoy of jeeps, APCs, and other vehicles drove slowly through the streets of Boston, followed by one PHL helicopter and two unmarked military-grade copters. Though they had transmitted the necessary clearance, more than a few soldiers were waiting for it, the surly figure of Lieutenant Becker Kellman chief amongst them.

The little convoy came to a half outside the base itself, and a few moments later, David Elliot stepped out of the the lead jeep. He had discarded his green military coat, wearing a simple long-sleeved t-shirt and battered trousers with boots. Behind him came Operative Lyra Heartstrings, and with them was Joseph Rither and Dr Bowman.

“Brigadier Elliot,” Kellman said stiffly. “Operative Heartstrings.” He glared at the Doctor. “Doctor Bowman.”

“Ah, hello there, Becker,” the Doctor said with a smirk. “How’re things?”

“You've got some interesting company with you, sir,” Kellman said to Elliot, ignoring the Doctor. “I’m afraid that they'll have to be taken into custody.”

“That would be impossible, I’m afraid,” Elliot said simply. “These people are under my personal authority.”

“Excuse me?” Kellman said, raising an eyebrow.

“He said these people are under his personal authority, Becker,” the Doctor said with a smile. “You can still hear, right?”

“I - I’m not even going to dignify that,” Kellman sighed. He looked at Elliot. “I’m not sure that your personal authority extends to these people, sir.”

“They asked for asylum, I granted it under the authority of my world’s Governing Council as the foremost representative in the area,” Elliot said simply. “Tell me, is that somehow difficult to believe?”

“I - sir, these people are criminals,” Kellman sputtered. “They're dangerous.”

“Are they?” Elliot asked. “I've been going over their records on the trip. No PHL kills. No PHL engagements. They've actively assisted PHL activities in the past.” He smirked. “They even helped you, Mr Kellman, for which you reported your Lieutenant and got her transferred.”

Kellman sighed. “Even so, the HLF are a terrorist organisation -”

“As I’ve said, these people are under my personal authority,” Elliot said. “Their punishment is in my hands, and I’ve already made my decision regarding it.”

“You can’t just take authority over them!” Kellman snapped. “They’re the goddamn HLF - they have to -!”

Elliot held up a hand. “They’re people who’ve fought alongside my friends in the past. As I understand it, we owe them a lot. I have been granted the authority to grant them asylum, if they request it -”

“Which we have,” Rither said simply.

“And I’m exercising that authority,” Elliot finished. “If you have a problem with me granting them asylum, you’re welcome to appeal to my superiors.”

Kellman closed his mouth, a scowl developing on his face. “Fine. But don’t think I won’t take this up with my superiors, sir.”

“That’s your right, Lieutenant Kellman,” Elliot replied with a slight smile. “But somehow, I don’t see your superiors wanting to risk an alliance over a couple of thousand people that, as far as I can tell, nobody cared enough about to look for before.”

Kellman sighed. “We’ll see. Sir.”

He turned away, and Rither walked up to Elliot.

“He’s not going to be a problem, is he?” he asked quietly.

“The PHL might have one or two loose Kellman’s running around,” the Doctor said, “but unlike the poor old HLF, they're overwhelmed by people who actually know how to prioritise. No one’s going to make a big deal out of this. Not today.”

Rither made a growl that might have been agreement or annoyance, no one could tell which.

“You’ll have to forgive him for not being trusting, Elliot,” the Doctor said.

If looks could kill, the Doctor would have been on the verge of regenerating.

“...Understanding?” the Doctor suggested.

Rither just shrugged noncommittally.

“The HLF of this world and yours aren’t the same,” the Doctor said. “Yours, from what I recall, were mostly formed by people at their best when the world was at its worst.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“The HLF of this world are, erm…” the Doctor said, and looked to Rither. “I’ll let him explain.”

“Let’s say that there’s groups out there that’d almost make me agree with that irritating desk-jockey,” Rither said. He spoke the words so bitterly that it was as if he had reached down his throat and dragged them up from some deep, acidic place, the edges cutting through him. As if it hurt to say them. “Bad men, who did bad things to good people, good ponies. That PER bastard Fairbairn said we weren’t even a ‘serious threat, just an excuse.’.”

“But there are good people, too,” the Doctor said. “You’re proof of that.”

“The bad people were louder,” Rither said bitterly. “They always are. And they were luckier. And now, thanks to their luck and their loudness, the name ‘HLF’ on this world means them, no matter what you do to try and change it.”

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said softly.

Rither sighed. “Yarrow wanted us to make it better. We did our best, but we had a lot against us. Double agents, And now look at us. We’ve looked for more than a few causes to support - putting down the EHS, stopping Imperial Creed, even First Montreal. But...”

“You think you’d be better served in my world,” Elliot said, nodding slightly.

“Exactly,” Rither said.

“Anyway,” the Doctor said, “I’m going to check they packed the TARDIS safely and she’s all in one piece. We’ll talk later, Brigadier.”

“Looking forward to it,” Elliot said diplomatically.

“I suspect we’ll have to talk as well,” Rither said grimly. “If you really do have ‘something in mind’ for us.”

Elliot nodded. “It’ll have to be later though. I need to see a few people, find out what’s been going on - if I missed anything. I’m sure there’ll be some reports from the other Equestria to go through.”

Rither frowned. “Right. We’ll talk later. I’ll get my people set up in the meantime - I assume I’m still sending my civvies with Bowman?”

“Aye,” Elliot said.

“That’s something at least,” Rither said. “Whatever mad shit you’ve got planned, at least I know my people will be safe.”

He walked off, and Elliot sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up somewhat.

“Tired?” Lyra asked quietly.

“It's been a long few days,” Elliot said quietly. “Lots of things to do, and not much time to just - stop, I guess.”

“Agreed,” Lyra said with a soft smile. “‘Stopping’ for a few days is the kind of luxury we’ve not had, huh?”

“Not at all,” Elliot said quietly. He glanced down at her. “I've been meaning to ask - why did you come out after me?”

Lyra glanced up at him. “Because I thought you were in danger.”

Elliot blinked, before a slow smile spread across his face.

“Thanks, Lyra,” he said sincerely. “I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” she said softly. “Whenever you need me.”

There was a pause as the two of them stood in front of the PHL base. Lyra blinked, as though suddenly aware that she was staring at him.

“David,” she began.

“Excuse me, sir?” a voice interrupted, and the two of them turned to see a PHL soldier approaching. “Brigadier Elliot - you’re wanted by Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee. Something about Prince Blueblood?”

Elliot nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go as soon as I can.”

The soldier saluted and turned away, before heading off. Elliot turned to look at Lyra, who had looked away from him.

“You’d best get going,” she said evenly. “I probably have paperwork to catch up on anyway.”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Talk later?”

“Yeah,” she said. She looked up at him. “Take care.”

“You too,” he said, before heading off.

She watched him walk for a moment, before snorting in frustration, then suddenly her augmented hoof slammed into the tarmac in an almost involuntary move, cracking it.

“Ma’am?” another voice asked.

A mare with a PHL uniform on approached her, one of the little lyre pendants hanging around her neck. Lyra sighed.

Pony God, in the name of all that is holy, not again!

“Yes?” she asked.

“Are you alright, Kind Mare - uh, ma’am?” the mare asked, looking at the cracked tarmac nervously. “Did… did something happen?”

Lyra scowled. “Alright, whatever ‘oh my God it’s the messiah’ thing you have going on, please stop. I’m not your Lyra. I’m not the messiah.” She sighed, and her eyes turned towards the direction of Elliot, who had just entered the building. “And whatever’s up with me, I don’t want to talk about it.”

The mare looked between Lyra and the door with a confused expression. “Uh… do you… I mean, is he…?”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to ask that?”

“It’s just…” the mare said. “Uh… if you… why don’t you… uh…”

“If you’re about to ask me ‘why don’t I just tell him’, I would reconsider,” Lyra said, tapping the tarmac. “Touchy subject.”

“Uh, I meant no disrespect, Kind Ma - uh, ma’am,” the mare said. “It’s just… you’re Lyra Heartstrings. You can… uh… well, you can do anything.”

Lyra snorted. “Anything, huh.”

“Y-yes!” the mare said. “It was Lyra Heartstrings who brought ponies and humans together, who created the PHL, who -”

“Did Lyra Heartstrings ever have to deal with being in love with a man who could never love her back?!” Lyra snapped. She closed her eyes, immediately regretting her words.

“B-but why wouldn’t he?” the mare asked. “You’re -”

“If you say ‘I’m Lyra Heartstrings’, I swear to the White Horse, you are going to have your head stuffed so far up your plot…” Lyra growled. “I am not your Lyra, and even if I was, she clearly wasn’t a bloody messiah, because she’s dead, and even if she was as bloody perfect as you lot seem to think, I’ll reiterate this: I am not her.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m getting damned tired of being compared to her. It’s not leaving much room for me.”

The mare swallowed. “I… uh… sorry, ma’am. It’s… you have to understand, it’s…”

“Difficult, yes, I know,” Lyra said heavily. “I know how people can be with their messiahs, believe me.” Her eyes drifted to the door again. “As for the Brigadier… he… I… there are a lot of reasons I can’t just go up to him and… I don’t know. You have no idea how strange it’s seen, interspecies relationships. You lot seem to have taken to them like Jorogumo to… well, just about anypony.”

The mare stammered, seemingly unsure what to say.

Lyra sighed. “You know what? Forget it. What’s your name?”

“Calliope,” the mare said. “Like the-”

“Musical instrument?” Lyra asked.

“I was going to say Homestuck character, but that works too.”

Lyra sighed. “Alright, Calliope. You do me a favour and forget I ever said anything.”

Calliope nodded. “I can do that, Kind Ma- uh, ma’am.”

Lyra sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been called worse things. For the record, I’m not that ‘kind’, though.”

“I’m sure that's not true,” Calliope said softly.

Lyra snorted. “All due respect, kid, but you don't know me.”

She turned and walked off, leaving a very bemused Calliope on her own.

“Lyra Heartstrings and the Avatar of Albion?” the mare said out loud, almost as though thinking aloud. “Is… is that sacrilege?”

“What’d I say?!” Lyra called back.

Calliope blushed. “Sorry, K - ma’am!”

***

PHL Research lab, New York.

There were two men and a green pony mare standing in the main lab room when Colonel Munro came to speak with them. One was a wiry man with short hair. He wore a simple suit, slightly tattered but still reasonably presentable, with a dark shirt and tie, and glasses. The other was auburn haired, had a beard and wore a leather coat over a t-shirt and jeans.

“Gentlemen, ma'am,” Munro said simply. “I take it you're the magic experts I’ve been asking for?”

“That's correct,” the suited man said primly. “Wesley Wyndham-Price at your service.”

“Dr Well Being, part of the Iron Clad program,” the mare added.

The leather coated man simply nodded.

“It’ll be good to have you here,” Munro said. “I've been tasked with working out stopgap measures while the rest of our R&D division is at work in Downtime Equus.”

“What a curious name,” Price said. “If I may, what is its etymology?”

“Someone read too much David Weber,” Munro replied with a slight frown. “Does it matter what the etymology of the name is? We have a job to do here.”

“No, I suppose it doesn't matter,” Price said with a sigh. “I just - well, to tell you the truth I used to have an interest in the etymology of words when I was younger man. What with the war and such, I'm not able to indulge that interest as often as I used to…”

“Ignore him when he rambles,” the other man interjected. “He's actually good at his job when he tries.”

Price sighed. “As ever, Mr Canterbury, you are a beacon of good manners.”

The leather coated man - Canterbury - shrugged.

“We’re getting off track,” Munro said bluntly. “I’ve been tasked with working out a number of different ways we can help each other in the short term. Obviously, a long term series of ideas can be worked out by our colleagues in the Downtime Equestria -”

“But a short term method is for here and now,” Canterbury said. “Alright - Wes, show ‘im what you've got.”

“Ah, yes,” Price said with a slight smile. “Now - there are obviously a variety of ways our knowledge of magic can help, but I suspect a little added punch to our forces on the ground would be appreciated, yes?”

“That's one option,” Munro said dryly. “Learning about these ‘Iron Clads’ might be something to contribute to that.”

“It might be somewhat difficult to replicate our research in a short time frame,” Well Being said softly. “Nonetheless, I’ll see to it that you get what I can offer you. We have exhaustive notes on the project that your teams will be able to peruse.”

“We also have more… esoteric tools at our disposal,” Price added. He glanced at his leather-coated compatriot. “Mr Canterbury is an expert at the summoning of spirits, for example.”

Munro frowned. “Spirits? You mean the dead?”

“Not spirits of that sort,” Price said. “David?”

Canterbury coughed. “Loosely speaking, the kinds of spirits I deal with are conceptual. That is to say, they're connected to concepts - love, hate, fear, strength, duty…”

“Spirits of concepts are high-tier,” Price said. “Even a handful - even one - can greatly aid in a conflict.”

“‘Spirits of concepts’… Jesus Christ,” Munro said, putting his head in his hand. “You’ll forgive me if this is all very… beyond me.”

“That’s alright,” Price said. “I doubt we’ll have to teach you much. It’s more a case of summoning them ourselves.”

“Minus side is, summoning them takes time,” Canterbury said. “Every single spirit has to be summoned individually. We could probably summon - what, three, four? - in a week. If that.”

“And if they agree,” Price added. “There’s no guarantee that they will.”

Munro sighed. “Alright, we can look into that. Now, is there anything else?”

Price and Canterbury exchanged a glance, and then Price smiled.

“I hope you’re prepared to be here a while, Colonel,” he said apologetically…

***

Unspecified Location.

The organization didn’t have a name. This had been a deliberate choice when they met up, finally came in contact. Part of the reason was that they didn’t want to be traced. The other reason was that any name they picked - for examples, “The Watchers In The Dark,” or “The Cabal” - sounded silly to all of them.

“The Watchers In The Dark” had probably been the most apt one, though. They weren’t a cult, they weren’t the Illuminati, and they weren’t pulling the strings of the PHL. None of them wanted that responsibility. They were simply a group of people who would meet in the utmost privacy to discuss things of shared interest to PHL R&D or other powerful organizations.

“So,” a man said with a frown, leaning back in his chair. “He's helping HLF now.”

“The Reavers are one of the better groups,” a voice on the phone said, “but he did it without giving the PHL warning, without asking UN permission to extradite them or release them to his custody -”

“It makes sense that a man like him wouldn't know the proper channels,” the man said quietly. “But still, he should have learned to use the proper channels, discovered what they were.”

“You’re worried,” the voice stated.

“Damn right,” the man said. “Demigods with too much personal power, never mind the political power he has? He has cults. Some of our people have been joining them. These aren't just idiots with long hair and no jobs, these are soldiers - even some of those damn Space Marines they've got going on.”

“Our estimates are that we could have some kind of equivalent on hand soon,” the voice said, “but we don't know if they'd actually be the same - there's things we don't know about the Iron Clad program yet. Munro is getting information, but -”

“It's all happening so fast,” the man finished. He shook his head. “Tell me we have something else.”

The voice chuckled. “As it happens, I do. I can have her show up to our next meeting.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason I haven't heard about her before?”

“She’s a Zebra,” the voice replied. “Claims to know more about the Avatar than we do.”

“Not that that's difficult,” the man sighed. He leaned back in his chair. “Alright, new plan. You send this Zebra to me, and in the meantime, recall Vinyl Scratch.”

“What for?” the voice asked.

“We’re going to ask her to help,” the man said, smiling to himself. “She's due a little trip.”

***

Joint PHL/BDF Camp, Fenway Park, Boston.

Fenway Park was packed with people: soldiers in raggedy BDF gear speaking with PHL soldiers in their high-tech equipment, Iron Clads marching up and down in formation. More than a few of these were “Knights of Albion”, their stance a little more stuff, their hands gripping sword hilts as much as they did rifles.

“Don't get them,” one PHL soldier said quietly. “‘Knights’ my ass. What good’s a sword anyway?”

“You've not seen them training,” a Unicorn stallion said quietly. “Have you?”

“Training?” the soldier asked. “No, why?”

The Unicorn motioned, and the two of them followed the Clads as they reached a small, impromptu training arena.

There were two: both of them were knights: one was a Clad, the other a regular fighter. They were sparring with swords, each moving with fluid grace. The Clad moved slowly and deliberately, one step, then another, his blade moving to intercept the knight’s quick strikes. The knight seemed to have the advantage of speed, and was dodging sweeps and strikes.

“Still,” the soldier said shortly, “doesn't change my point. Sword in a gunfight is useless.”

“It's not a gunfight though, is it?” the Unicorn pointed out. “And look at these guys.”

As he spoke, the knight lashed out, too quick for the Clad’s blade - but before it could hit the Paladin armour, a soft glow appeared, before the sword - and the knight - were repelled.

“You see?!” the Clad called. “I am better than before.”

“I can see,” the knight said ruefully. “I guess I’ll need more practice.”

“Chin up,” the Clad said. “I suspect you're on the list somewhere - they'll probably give you the next mark up.”

“Hey,” the soldier called out, catching the two’s attention. “You do know it's the 21st Century, right?”

The two looked at him like he’d grown another head.

“Dude, shut up,” the Unicorn hissed.

The soldier ignored him. “I dunno how it is on your world, but over here we kinda outgrew swords when we invented the machine gun with armour piercing rounds.”

The knight looked at the Clad. “You want to field this one?”

“Alright,” the Clad said, turning to the soldier. “I can hit anything with a gun. But can you beat me with a sword?”

“Probably not,” the soldier said with a snort. “But I only need my gun.”

“Ah, I see,” the knight said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. He held up a sidearm. “This gun?”

The soldier’s eyes widened, going to his side holster. “Hey, how -?!”

“You cannot always rely on this,” the Clad said, tossing the weapon to the ground in front of the soldier. “In the heat of battle, when you are overrun, you must meet the enemy blade to blade. That is where we excel, and when the Solaminan Empire comes, that is where you will fall - because you brought a gun to a sword fight.”

He said nothing more, instead turning to his colleague as they began a new spar. The soldier picked his gun up sheepishly, checking it over.

“I thought you had a rune?” the Unicorn asked.

“I do,” the soldier said. “It must not be working.”

The Unicorn’s horn glowed for a moment, before he shook his head. “I can't grip it. It must just be them.”

“Fucking A,” the soldier hissed. “So these bastards have super magic?”

“Hey, at least they're on our side,” the Unicorn pointed out.

“Yeah, sure,” the soldier said. “For now.”

***

Kraber didn’t look happy with himself.

Then again, Kraber usually didn’t look happy unless something horrifying was happening, usually to somebody he didn’t like, which would have made this normal if not for the fact that he was actually staring at himself.

“This… is a nice change of pace,” said the Kraber with the oversized Lewis Gun. An old gas mask and spiky pickehaube sat on a nearby table. “I haven’t seen this many actually well-equipped people in years.”

Aegis was sitting nearby, drinking from a bowl of beer and desperately wishing it was bottomless.

“You know,” the Kraber with the Lewis Gun said, “I actually have a spare Penetrator. Reminded me of this gun I made in Dead Space 3.”

“Was there an underbarrel bolas or a force gun?” Aegis asked, not slurred in the slightest

“Merde, how are you not even tipsy?!” the Kraber with the Lewis Gun asked.

“He’s just showing off,” the other Kraber explained. “I actually made something like that for a laugh. I call it the Moondowner. It’s… well, it’s hidden deep in my locker.”

“Quelle surprise,” the Kraber with the Lewis Gun muttered. “Some fokkers have all the luck. I’ve been lucky to keep finding ammo for this thing.”

“How does ammo keep getting made, anyway?” Aegis asked. “I’ve been wondering how logistics even works in your world.”

“Would ‘very fokkin’ poorly’ cover it?” Lewis Gun Kraber said with a dry chuckle. “Usually, when a trooper reports he’s out of ammo on a museum piece, an effort is made to replace it with something that actually has ammo. Ever seen an L85 or a PK-470, made with reclaimed metals?”

“I used a Kalashnikov like that once,” Kraber said. “Well. Not quite - more of a Dragunov, chopped down, with two ten-round mags welded to each other. Looked like shit, but it was nice enough.”

“Exactly. Piece of kak, but it still fires. Other times, specialised ammo can be ordered in - if you’re really fokkin’ desperate. Most of the time, though, people just pick up some dead kontgesig’s gun. We can’t just standardize our guns, because ammo’s being made for whatever we can get. And we can’t standardize ammo, because there’s guns being made for whatever ammo we can make. You see?”

Kraber and Aegis exchanged glances.

“Well shit,” Aegis summed up. “That sounds fucking terrible.”

“I’ve been lucky,” Lewis Gun Kraber said. “Managed to keep this thing stocked. Mostly by learning the art of conserving ammunition”

Kraber guffawed. “You kidding me?”

“Nope,” Lewis Gun Kraber said, before giving a slightly nasty grin. “I just stab people instead. And the damn thing is heavy, anyway.”

Kraber chuckled. “Had me worried for a second there.”

“Been meaning to ask, by the way,” Aegis said with a frown. “What’s with the French?”

“Oh, that,” Lewis Gun Kraber said with a shrug. “Had to learn French in the Foreign Legion. Samuel helped me out with that. ‘Course, I never got as far as I would have liked - France kind of disintegrated.” He frowned. “Funny the stuff you get used to thinking.”

“Fokked up shit, no question,” Kraber agreed. “Like the time I got head-explody."

"Wait. Head-explody?"

"Ja, a newfoal connected to my mind and I made them fokkin' explode by remembering at them," Kraber said. "There was also the time I got turned into a mare by poison joke spit.”

Lewis Gun Kraber snorted. “I'll see that, and raise you fighting the spirit of Futility, or the time I found myself escorting Horatio Steed for a month while he went hiking in Wales.”

“What's so weird about hiking in Wales?” Aegis asked.

“Spelunking, Skyrim style,” Lewis Gun Kraber said shortly. “It was me, Samuel, and a woman called Gail Lightfoot, and we spent half the time up there fighting wraiths and spectres that the war stirred up, just while we were looking for Merlin. And we never found the fokking branleur.”

Aegis shook his head. “Alright, it's official. You're both bad luck magnets.”

“Ja,” Lewis Gun Kraber said.

“Absofokkinlutely,” Kraber agreed. “It’s like…” he stroked his beard. “Did you star in a production of Repo: The Genetic Opera as Nathan Wallace too?”

Lewis Gun Kraber nodded.

“It’s like Nny once said,” Kraber said. “You can let your problems beat you down, or laugh at them.”

Aegis stared at them both. “You’re terrible at that last part.”

“It’s a Kraber family tradition to bliksem your problems,” Lewis Gun Kraber said. “I thought you'd know that by now.”

***

Reaver Camp.

Joe Rither was idly cleaning a pistol when Elliot found him. He had his armour off, revealing a simple tank top and black fatigue trousers.

“What can we expect of your world?” Rither asked. He was still obviously bitter.

“I’m not sure how best to describe it,” Elliot admitted. “Did you see the interview?”

“Yeah, I heard what your world is like,” Rither said. “We got cable at Bastion. Another thing to thank the good Doctor for.”

Elliot scratched the back of his head. I miss cable, he thought.

“No, what I want to know,” Rither said, “Is if we’ll be welcome. We’re probably not bringing any game-changing weapons or tactics, I just want to know: Will we be welcome?”

“Mr. Rither?” Elliot asked, confused.

“I’m not a happy man,” Rither said, nodding slowly at nothing in particular. “But… before you answer that, tell me: What are your world’s HLF like?”

Elliot folded his arms. “A mixed bag. Ostensibly the HLF were founded as an extra-national force of volunteers and mercenaries to help evacuate civilians from the areas affected by the Barrier, not to mention -”

“Did they help?” Rither interrupted.

Elliot nodded slowly. “Yes, they did. Mostly.”

Rither’s face darkened. “...mostly?”

“There were always… well, you probably know the sort,” Elliot said sheepishly. “People who wanted to fight their own battles, or kill innocent ponies, or loot cities as they passed through, or extort people they were supposed to be protecting. There were a lot of less-than-savoury sorts amongst the HLF.”

“Were they weeded out?” Rither asked.

“Actually, they Darwinned themselves to death mostly,” Elliot said, chuckling mirthlessly. “A man named Birch apparently led a bunch of people to Fairport in Gilead, saying there was some secret bunker. He never got heard from again. Other HLF joined Gilead, or died shooting at the Barrier in the Middle East or in Africa.”

“Ah… the bad eggs were more of an exception in your world,” Rither said, almost wistful. “Wish we could’ve been there.”

“I don’t think you would,” Elliot said, quiet. His head was bowed and Rither couldn’t see his eyes for a second. He looked… old. Very, very tired. As if he was trying to hold back anger. “I was lucky-” the words almost physically hurt to say so - “enough I didn’t have to flee anywhere. The survivors told the worst possible tales. If they lived long enough. If we let them.”

Rither suddenly felt the urge to let that last sentence go unquestioned. “I don’t think you know what we’ve been through here,” he said. “If anything, working among that might be an improvement.”

“Well,” Elliot said. “Sorry, but… not all too well, no. I don’t know.” He smiled wryly. “Although, technically, you did work amongst the HLF.”

Rither raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“The last boat from America before the Sanctified Republic of Gilead took complete control was the USS Enterprise,” Elliot said slowly. “And the Enterprise was under the command of Maximilian Yarrow, and the Reavers.” He blinked. “Could… could going through the Days Of Expansion in my world really have been an improvement? How bad could things-”

“Listen,” Rither said. “Everyone has more questions than there are leaves on a tree, but there’s one I have to ask. I need peace of mind.”

He was silent for a second.

“...I also need to explain,” Rither said. “We’ve extended trust to a lot of people. Once, we trusted other HLF. We believed we could make them something like what you just described. A unified front of fighters, unattached to any country. We believed that while the PHL could handle bigger things, we could keep things safe on a smaller front. We believed in… in goodwill.”

Elliot looked expectantly.

“Our ‘bad eggs’ have only recently, as you said, ‘darwinned’ themselves.” Rither snorted. “One group, just recently, apparently forged a truce with PER just for the sake of spiting the PHL during Barrierfall evacuation.”

Elliot’s brain abruptly shut down. “...What.”

“I can’t pretend I understand it,” Rither said. “Before we realized how many ‘bad eggs’ were in the HLF, we trusted them... and we were brushed off and ignored at best. Called horsefuckers and shot at worst. We thought we could at least rely on the PHL, but they’ve shot our scouts during particularly bad PER attacks and swept us under the rug. We trusted Kraber to have a conscience - he was only manipulating us to get him to the leader of our world’s PER, and backslid as soon as we were done. We trusted him again, and he told people to abandon the HLF. Said there was nothing of worth in it - right after we had fought and lost people helping the PHL. And when we surfaced in Montreal to help, other HLF declared war on us. Yarrow gave up at that moment. Can you imagine? A man with such vision, a man that forged so many people from so many units… giving up,” Rither said. “Broke my heart, but we’d been hurt too many times.”

“What are you trying to say?” Elliot asked.

“I mean,” Rither said, “That we’ve extended our trust before, and time and time again it’s been betrayed. I have to know that won’t happen.”

“That depends on what you think I’m going to do,” Elliot said. “I’m willing to let every single one of your people settle on my Earth if they’d choose to. I won’t ask you - any of you - to give more than you have already.” He paused. “It sounds like you’ve given enough.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’,” Rither said with a mirthless smile.

Elliot sighed. “Frankly, what happened to you sounds like a tragedy. It doesn’t strike me as right that you should have given everything you did for nothing.”

“You don’t do good because you want a reward,” Rither said. “You do it because it’s right. Although,” he admitted. “I’m getting quite tired of getting nothing at best. I’d just be happy to know someone out there at least recognizes us for doing the right thing. Won’t happen though.” He shook his head dolefully. “I happen to know the history books have already been written. We’re on the losing side.”

Elliot nodded slowly. “Alright - new question. What are the HLF doing currently on this world?”

“I honestly don’t care at this point,” Rither said. “Probably turning into the bandits from Mad Max, stealing from food stores, making their own little fiefdoms, maybe terrorist attacks. I don’t even know what the point of some of the attacks are. I don’t know if they know.”

Elliot nodded slowly a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I have a proposal for you,” he said after a moment.

Rither frowned. “What proposal?”

“You might not care what the HLF on this world are doing,” the Brigadier said, “but they could still pose - at best, an unwelcome distraction at a crucial moment. At worst, a threat to the world’s security.”

Rither snorted. “Doubt it. The last competent HLF outside of us died with Aeron Grant. And they were the ones that made that truce, which says a lot about what we’re dealing with.”

“Don’t underestimate desperate people: even an idiot with a gun can still kill people,” Elliot said softly. He ran a hand over his stubble-covered chin. “If you were incorporated into the BDF and given authority to act as part of the BDF, you could also be given authority to… well, deal with the HLF on this world.”

Rither raised an eyebrow. “You mean kill them?”

“Not necessarily,” Elliot said. “Like I said - they must be desperate. More of them might be willing to reconsider what they’re doing than you’d think. If they are, we could certainly do with more warm bodies on the field.”

Rither snorted. “You’re talking about unifying the remains of the HLF.”

Elliot nodded. “Something like it.”

“Can’t be done,” Rither said dismissively. “We tried in some form or another for almost five years. And here we are.”

“And you’re just going to give up,” Elliot said. “That’s it. No more lives. No more quarters. Leaving the arcade.”

“You’re damn right,” Rither said. “I’ve lost enough lives - good people’s lives! If Maxi Yarrow couldn’t unify these idiots, what chance do I have?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot said with a shrug. “But I know what chance you have if you don’t try. None.”

“Then what do you suggest for this?” Rither asked. “Yarrow had plans. Dangle a carrot -” he pointed to a large, intricate-looking weapon nearby, “- then the stick if things go pear-shaped. Sell them on dreams. Show them some unity. But apparently -”

The sarcasm in his voice could have melted sheet metal, it was that acidic.

“- the threat of not being able to annihilate four-legged candy-colored horsies was considered to be unreasonable,” Rither said.

“Rither,” Elliot said. “I understand why you’re here. I understand that you’re upset. I understand that if I ask ‘what would Yarrow want’, then you’ll say that-”

Rither opened his mouth.

“It actually is what he wanted,” Elliot said. “...Wow. Right down to the same syllables. I’m actually impressed. But you’d do more good out there, rather than here. Give it another shot.”

Rither remained silent.

“Last time you tried, you didn’t have another world, or the threat of Barrierfall on America, or me,” Elliot said.

“How do we weed out the dumb ones?” Rither asked.

Elliot smiled. It was the first thing even approaching enthusiasm that he’d seen from Rither.

“Leave that to us,” Elliot said. “But I think you need to do this, Joseph Rither. All of you. I think it’s time the Reavers got their chance to show the world what the HLF can really be.” He turned to go. “It’s time you rewrote those history books.”

He walked off, leaving Rither alone to contemplate what had been said.

***

PHL Aerospace Centre, New York.

PHL Aerospace was widely considered the crap division, no matter how much you wanted to be an astronaut as a kid, if only for how goddamn depressing it all was. You couldn’t think of it as an escape from the Barrier - only inevitable death from radiation poisoning, starvation, and possibly asphyxiation led that way. Being able to see the advance of the Barrier didn’t help either.

And yet nobody would discount the work they did on communications satellites.

A pony operating a console linked up to one such satellite was a shaky brown-and-white mare with wholly incongruous earthlike coloration named Silent Step. The kind of people who worked in conditions like this - finding projections for evac routes, observing Equestrian movements across the Atlantic, overseeing PHL troop movements - had been unceremoniously dubbed the Jitter Division by one of the armed guards.

Silent Step was currently living up to the group’s name - dark bags sagged under her eyes from lack of sleep, and she shook from coffee so overpoweringly pungent that anypony who smelt it might think the mere fumes of the drink would work just as well.

She was currently going over some satellite images they had received, and her eyes were widening with horror at the images as she went over them.

“How recent are these?!” she asked one of her colleagues.

“Uh,” the man said, “about three or four hours?”

Silent Step cursed, before picking up a telephone and dialling the number for HQ.

“Hello? Cheerilee’s office?!” she said urgently once the pony on the other end picked up, resisting the almost instinctual stammer. “It’s Silent Step at Aerospace. You need to tell the Lieutenant - she should take a look at this!”

***

Cheerilee’s Office, New York.

When Elliot entered Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee’s office, she looked up at him, her eyes tired. Her desk was covered in paperwork, and it looked like she had gone over all of it repeatedly. There were reports, images, briefing documents, requisition orders…

“Brigadier Elliot,” she said quietly. “Finished running around after stray HLF?”

Elliot nodded, not rising to it. “I’ve done what I set out to do in that regard.”

“How nice,” Cheerilee said, to her credit at least sounding like she was trying not to sound sarcastic. “I’ve had Lieutenant Kellman throwing fits.”

“Ah, yes,” Elliot said, scratching the back of his head. “He did seem to think I was making a mistake.”

“He would,” Cheerilee said. “He has something of a history with the Reavers. Still,” she added, “it's done now, and I have more important things to discuss with you. I’ll be honest, I didn't expect you to get here so quickly.”

“The Doctor gave me a lift - Bowman, that is,” Elliot said.

“Ah, that explains it. Can't say I’m surprised he’s still pottering around,” Cheerilee said with a nod. She pushed a small document forward. “Had a request from Prince Blueblood to go to Downtime Equestria.”

Elliot picked up the document, scanning over it. “And?”

“And, I’m going to grant it, but I’m wondering whether it's really a good idea,” she said. “The way I understand it, there are a lot of differences. It might be culture shock for your Prince and his entourage.”

Elliot frowned. “The same issue exists with yours, doesn't it?”

“No, because it's our past, and we know what to expect,” Cheerilee said. She sighed. “I’m just saying, if this is really necessary I’m fine with it, but -”

“The Downtime Equestrians deserve a chance to speak with our people,” Elliot put in. “And we deserve a chance to speak with them. We are allies, after all.”

“True,” Cheerilee said with a sigh. “As I said, I've granted them the pass. Even have DisQord giving them a portal entrance.”

“Nice of him,” Elliot said.

“Well, it makes a change from him being an ass,” Cheerilee said with a smirk. At Elliot’s questioning expression, she shrugged again. “He's been doing some… interesting stuff. Remind me to forward you Marcus’ report.”

“I’d be interested in reading it,” Elliot agreed. “Any word on - well, the enemy?”

Cheerilee frowned. “There, things are murkier. We know nothing about your Solaminan Empire. They’re just quiet.”

“I can't say that fills me with optimism,” Elliot said grimly. “I’d prefer having some idea of what the bitch is doing.”

“As would the UN,” Cheerilee told him. “I've been inundated with requests for information about her, but so far we don't seem to know anything. All we can glean is that she's powerful, but even that's just guesswork based on what Discord’s told us.”

“You mean DisQord?” Elliot asked.

“I mean both of them,” Cheerilee said. “DisQord’s report of her being backed up by a power we can't comprehend is supported by Discord’s report on her nearly killing him.”

Elliot sighed. And that was what he had to fight, one day.

“Add to that the fact that we’re facing her Empire, which from what we’ve heard is just as formidable as the Solar Empire, and you can understand the concern,” Cheerilee added.

“Quite,” Elliot said quietly.

“And in the meantime,” Cheerilee went on, “the Solar Empire’s obviously building up to something, judging from the Queen’s letter. We had some satellite images in of a buildup, but those stopped and the congregation disappeared after a while.”

“‘Disappeared’?” Elliot repeated.

“The buildup wasn't spotted again,” Cheerilee said with a frown. “Maybe they redeployed. Or maybe the Queen rethought her strategy. Maybe there's some conflict we’re not aware of.”

“But, you've got no idea what’s really happening,” Elliot finished. “Yay.”

“It doesn't help that the Resistance’s intelligence just isn't getting to us,” Cheerilee said quietly. “I had a meeting scheduled with Harshwhinny, but - oh, sorry,” she cut herself off, noticing his expression. “Bittersweet Harshwhinny is the leader of our world’s Equestrian Resistance. She's as pleasant as the name suggests.”

“No doubt,” Elliot commented dryly. “What happened to your meeting?”

“She cancelled,” Cheerilee said. “They heard about your world, we think - I think the idea of another Tyrant gave her a metaphorical aneurism.”

Elliot snorted. “Believe me, it wasn't fun for me either.”

“I believe your opinion was made clear by the bloodied pieces of skull that the clone’s head was reduced to, and Kraber’s… promise of what to do with her skull,” Cheerilee said in a deadpan tone. “But the clarification is nice.”

Elliot chuckled. “Anything else while I’m here?”

“As it happens -” Cheerilee began, but suddenly her phone rang. She sighed, holding up a hoof, before picking up the phone. “Hello?” She paused, frowning. “Is it urgent?” Her face turned stony. “I see. I’ll be right there.”

She hung up the phone, taking a deep breath.

“What's wrong?” Elliot asked.

“That was Aerospace division,” Cheerilee said quietly. “We need to go. Now.”

***

An Unremarkable Room

It was hard to find unoccupied space, but they’d managed. The man on the other end of the phone had found the Zebra - whose name was Abadom - a space under an abandoned store. A microphone and some speakers stood inside.

Abadom lounged on a couch, her muzzle in a bag of potato chips. “What a day. This… mmmmmfmfmf... seems a bit overdramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

“It seemed unobtrusive enough,” said one man. His voice was modulated, an odd mechanical edge to it. Like something he might have heard in a TV show from when he was a child. “Now. One of us-”

Abadom noticed how he avoided giving names. But then, it wasn’t a surprise. People who made arrangements like this obviously had things to hide.

“I understand that before you worked for the PHL, you studied mythology at Trottingham University?” another person asked.

Abadom cocked her head. “Not that it’s very useful here. I just do what the PHL ask, however severe. They need propaganda edited, I do it. But I couldn’t on this Avatar - something was wrong, I knew it.”

“You’re logged as suffering a nervous breakdown,” someone added.

“But it wasn’t a nervous breakdown,” someone said. “I was told that you know more about this visitor… this Avatar… than we do.”

"Not much. I know fragments of stories from ancient lore," Abadom said. "This avatar, they come in times of chaotic war. There are many, each a world's silent sentry.... except when they are not."

"What does that mean?" the man asked.

"The destruction wrought," Abadom continued, "It can be endless - those who fight almost defenseless. In my home, there rests a stone, a dreadful legend. A story that brings the chill of wind. But the story is... If they are summoned by dying earth, it is right to celebrate in mirth. But if they come unprovoked... then all safety, all autonomy is revoked."

"Revoked?" another person asked. "What do you mean, revoked?"

"All destroyed, taken, by that which makes this war a breeze," Abadom said. "Not even a challenge to them. Done with ease."

“I… don’t know what this means,” another member of the Group said sheepishly.

“What it means is that he is the harbinger,” Abadom said. “He… came to our world. Unprovoked. And according to the story that my grandmother told me, this is never a good sign. He is wicked. A… a projection of some kind from a force spanning worlds beyond count. He may say he’s not, but he is connected all the same. Inextricably. The power is like a tree through many worlds, and it touches him.”

“What does this… this force do?”

“To those who force perfection, he’s an infection. He comes in great and terrible fury… but some diseases are worse than the cure.”

“My God! She means The Limiting Factor,” someone said.

“Excuse me?” Abadom asked.

“That was Hex’s codename for a…. A force of some kind. Outside of this universe. Something that finds situations like ours, and ends them along with any dissent or independence. Hex banned any research into it.”

“Ending the war sounds good,” one person said.

“Not the way that Hex’s… source said it worked. It’ll crush the Solar Empire, then it will take us over and grind any resistance into the dust. Use us as resources to crush even more, even if they’re not Converting anyone. He said we should under no uncertain terms contact it, and now its agent… is here.”

“Did Hex have a countermeasure?”

“He said that he was going to attempt to do something to end the War last week,” one person said.

The man snorted. “Seeing as we’re all still fighting, I can only assume it didn’t work.”

“No,” the person said softly. “It didn't.”

“This begs a question,” another member of the Group said. “If this Avatar really is this dangerous, how the hell do we kill him?”

“That is a very good question,” Abadom said. “But if I may, I have a suggestion.”

There was a pause, before finally the man spoke.

“We’re listening.”

Abadom took a breath. “I was not alone in my knowledge of these matters. I know of one other who knows of your ‘factor’. She and I, working together, may be able to find a way to go about this endeavour.”

“We’ll grant any resources you need,” the man said.

“I am truly grateful,” she smiled. “But you realise drastic measures must be on the table.”

“Whatever needs to be done,” the man said.

***

PHL Aerospace.

When Elliot and Cheerilee arrived, the place was in a state of controlled panic. Men, women and ponies were dashing hither and thither, carrying sheafs of paper.

“Lieutenant Colonel!” a panicked voice said. “You're here!”

A brown and white mare trotted over to the two of them, her eyes wide with horror.

“Silent Step,” Cheerilee said. “What's your status here?”

“I… can't explain it, ma’am,” Step said. “You need to see it.”

She led Cheerilee and Elliot to a computer terminal that was displaying realtime satellite images. Elliot took a moment to marvel at the images he was seeing - it had been a long time since anyone in his world had been able to access the satellites.

The images were… interesting. It looked like a giant black blot coming over the Atlantic.

“What is this?” Elliot asked.

“The best way to explain it is… well, clouds,” Silent Step said quietly. “A massive storm front of some kind has developed - too quickly to be a natural phenomenon.”

Cheerilee frowned at the readings on the screen. “When did this start?”

“We’re not entirely certain, ma’am,” Silent Step said grimly. “It seems to have… crept up on us.”

Elliot frowned, looking the readings over. “Could this be Equestrian in origin?”

“Sir, we’ve never even anything of that scale,” Silent Step said with a dubious expression. “I mean, the chances of them being able to manipulate the weather to that degree -”

“But it could be Equestria,” Cheerilee interrupted. “If the Tyrant’s planning on hitting Boston first, there’s every chance she could be pulling out all the stops - and a storm front big enough to hide an entire fleet of skyliners and then some would certainly be -”

“Pulling out all the stops,” Elliot finished. “And conveniently enough, there was ‘an entire fleet of skyliners and then some’ in that force that showed up on the satellite image before they ‘disappeared’, wasn’t there?”

“Yeah,” Cheerilee said grimly. “Step, is it approaching us here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Silent Step said grimly. “We’re working on exact timing, but -”

“It’ll be here soon,” Cheerilee said grimly. “She said as much, didn’t she? That she’d be coming here to finish us off.”

Elliot frowned. “Can we inform the soldiers in the Downtime Equus?”

“I’ll get right on that,” Cheerilee said grimly. “But you realise this means we’ve got very little time left before they get here.”

Elliot nodded. “You know, I had a horrible feeling you’d say that.” He took a deep breath, and tried to look cheerful. “I guess it’s time to see if the R&D boys are worth their salt.”

***

Boston.

Two Zebras met in a quiet part of what was left of the city of Boston. Given what had happened, ‘quiet’ was relative - soldiers bustled everywhere, and there was a sense of danger looming overhead.

Abadom’s colleague was shaven maned and beautiful in a stately way, her features classical and chiseled.

“You're sure of this information?” she asked. “There could be no miscommunication?”

“Beyond any doubt, Malaika,” Abadom said quietly. “We are dealing with the Dark Avatar.”

Malaika blew air through her lips soundlessly. “This is grave indeed, but it explains this miraculous human and his strange deeds.” She snorted. “And to think, we were banished from our home for knowing that from beyond our realm this ill-wind was blowing.”

“They could not have known as we did yet,” Abadom reasoned. “For we had to unlock ancient secrets.”

“And we were right,” Malaika hissed. “Look around - we are surrounded by his Knights. He brought a legion to our door, and with it yet more war.”

Abadom nodded slowly. “I know. Now - what must we do? Where must we go?”

Malaika sighed. “Hope lies in the newfound Equestria. Go there and approach Celestia. Maybe the new world will have the strength to slay this Avatar before great length.”

“That may prove… difficult to achieve,” Abadom pointed out. “Ours is not a tale easy to believe.”

“I know that too, my friend,” Malaika acknowledged. She sighed. “This may lead us to a bitter end.”

“Then it is a path we walk knowing what awaits,” Abadom said after a moment. “Let us hurry now, before it is too late.”

“‘Too late’,” echoed Malaika. “Maybe it is. But we will pray for luck in this.”

Abadom nodded. Without another word, the two headed off.

They had much to do.

Author's Note

I miss hamsteak....

Calm Before The Storm

(And before you even ask: No, not that one.)

Chapter Sixteen: The Calm Before The Storm.

Written by:
Doctor Fluffy,
Jed R,
TheIdiot,
VoxAdam.

Editors
RoyalPsycho,
The Void.

***

“Look to your battle gear, and it will protect you.
Servitor, Warhammer 40,000: Ultramarines.

“Last of all, as to one born abnormally, he appeared to me. For I am the least of the apostles, not fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am…”
Corinthians 15:8-10.

***

BDF Liaison Office, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 23rd, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

David Elliot absolutely despised paperwork.

He was sat at his temporary office in New York (I have an office in New York now. Jesus), clad in a simple shirt and trousers, his now slightly battered military coat hung over the chair, and despairing at the sheer amount of forms he had to fill in.

One of the handy things about his position in the BDF was that, for the longest time, most of the more dull aspects of military life were essentially gone. Sure, there were still things like rotations, shifts, the occasional requisition form, but mostly it had been more about the actual fighting, especially after he had become the Avatar. Somehow, going through lists of troops, orders, supplies and the like just… wasn’t him. There’d always been someone willing to take it off his hands.

Sometimes, the burden seemed to crush him. And sometimes, it had perks.

This is why I wanted to run a bookshop, not join the bloody army, he thought to himself, smirking slightly. I mean come on - ordering books, minding books and selling books… all sounds much calmer. ‘Elliot’s Bookhaven’ - ah, the dream will never die.

The logistics of these preparations were… troubling. Sure, they had plenty of PHL troops on hand and he’d seen to it that the BDF contingent was large as well - a good few Iron Clads, a bunch of the regular troops… basically, as many forces as could be spared for such a contingent.

And yet…

He’d seen these Newfoals in action. Their tactic - the swarming, the overwhelming numbers backed up by unicorn marksmages or air support - was simplistic, but damn effective. Elliot had to admit: it was the kind of thing one had to be prepared for, or else one would simply die. And worse, it was the kind of thing one couldn’t be prepared for, unless one saw it for one’s self.

Catch 22, he thought grimly. You have to see it to believe it, but you have to believe it to survive seeing it.

“Bit for your thoughts?” Lyra’s voice asked, and he looked up to see her leaning into his office, a wry little smirk on her face.

“Just thinking that we’ll need more people,” he said quietly. “This world’s Tyrant doesn’t do small scale, tactical or clever. She’s got one setting - ‘overwhelming force’.”

“Yay,” Lyra said with a sigh. “Any ideas?”

“Apart from just getting as many troops as we can here as soon as possible?” Elliot asked. “I’ve got one idea, but I can’t even begin to think of how to use it.”

“Well then,” Lyra said, cocking her head slightly in what might have been something similar to a shrug. “Hit me.”

“Well,” Elliot said, “My best idea is that if you can’t guard against overwhelming force, then you redirect it.”

“Alright,” Lyra said, nodding slightly. “I think I see the potential. But how…”

“And there’s the problem,” Elliot sighed. “I get the horrible feeling I’ll have to go to the Council and ask them to send more troops.”

Lyra nodded, her expression grim. “You think they’ll agree?”

“They’ll see the reasoning, maybe, but Anderson’ll probably worry about leaving us defenceless if Solamina makes a move,” Elliot said quietly. “And to be honest, I can see why he would. I’d hate to take everything and leave no one guarding the home front.”

“I know what you mean,” Lyra said. “but these guys are our allies. If we can’t help with everything we’ve got…”

“Why should they help us?” Elliot finished, smiling. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Lyra.”

She smiled at that. “Technically, you took the words out of mine.”

“Technically,” Elliot chuckled.

There was a pause as both of them let the laughter die off, and the seriousness of their situation (and, indeed, their lives reasserted itself).

“So,” he said, sighing. “I’d hate to leave you with all the paperwork -”

“Again.”

“Again,” he smiled sheepishly. “But the sooner I go the sooner I can be back.”

“Alright,” she said quietly, nodding once. “Just come back soon. I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen if you don’t get back here before they do. God only knows what those bastards are going to drop on us next.”

Elliot nodded, before standing up and heading out of the room. Lyra closed her eyes for a moment, sending a quick prayer to Epona or whoever else was listening that he would be safe.

***

Unspecified Location, ‘Spectrum’ Earth.

They say that idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Whether the same could be said for hooves is a different question, but the general consensus was that the two were interchangeable.

Vinyl Scratch didn't know why that phrase had come to mind.

“Lieutenant Scratch,” one of the shadowy men said. It looked as if they’d been… ‘scrambled,’ somehow. Vinyl couldn’t term it any better than that. There was something like an inverted Want-It-Need-It spell surrounding them, though it was weak enough Vinyl could discern that facial features existed. It was just as if her mind kept imperceptibly sliding whenever she tried to understand them. “Apologies for bringing you here in quite such a melodramatic manner.”

“It's fine,” Vinyl replied. “Your clearance was clearly high enough to get me sent here.”

“Quite,” another shadowy figure said. “We have a mission for you, Lieutenant.”

Vinyl stiffened. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

“You're being assigned to an upcoming group of PHL and UN personnel being dispatched to the ‘Avatar’ Earth,” the first man said. “There, you are simply to take note of everything you encounter and report back to us when you return.”

Vinyl nodded. “If I may, sir, is there any reason I’d be doing this?”

“Forward thinking, Lieutenant,” the man said shortly.

“You are to make particular enquiries about the Avatar, on an informal basis,” the second man said. “We need to know more about him and his abilities.”

Vinyl frowned. “Sir? Any…”

“Our reasons are classified, Lieutenant,” the second man said quietly. “Just do as you're ordered.”

Vinyl nodded. “Yes sir.”

Should this worry me? she thought.

***

Main Hangar, John F. Kennedy Airport, New York. November 23rd, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth.

The Doctor - Doctor Bowman, that is - was speaking with Colonel Munro when Elliot found him.

“No, no, this still doesn’t count,” the red-headed man was saying. He paused to look at Elliot. “Ah, hello!”

“What doesn’t count?” Elliot asked, frowning slightly. He could have sworn the Doctor’s hair had been longer yesterday.

“Oh, the good Colonel had a concern about some multiversal issue,” the Doctor said with a shrug. “Honestly, they shouldn’t worry about it so much in my opinion. It’s going to give someone a hernia. Stars know Hex had one.”

“Or several,” Munro said quietly. “Guess we’ll never know now.”

He looked at Elliot and nodded. “Brigadier Elliot. Thanks again for helping my associates out.”

“Not to worry,” Elliot said with a smile. “It was my pleasure.”

“I’m sorry about Sergeant Elliot,” Munro said quietly. “If it’s any consolation to you, he was a good man. I trusted him a great deal.”

“If it’s any consolation to you,” Elliot said quietly, “I think he would have been proud to give his life in service.”

“Just a pity he’s not dead yet,” Munro said grimly. “It troubles me that these new Anomalous Newfoals are roaming about. We’ve had a lot of trouble with those things in the past.”

Elliot frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

Munro looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Okay. I think you’ve picked up on this, but the Solar Empire is… quantity. Above all else. ‘Where one is weak, a herd has strength in numbers.’ At least, that’s what some propaganda said. And that applies to the Potion.”

“Okay,” Elliot said, nodding slightly. Munro was clearly leading up to something.

“Some of us wondered - why do you need Bureaus if you can just get Converted, anywhere?” Munro asked. “The answer seems to be, the Bureaus are meant to be magically sterile environments. So, something about our Earth, the stray magic floating around in battles, or just regular Earth bacteria - we don’t know, nobody’s in a mood to analyze this - makes Newfoals not quite come out as mindless little zombie-dolls. Sometimes, they’re just deformed, unable to function, or actually thank us when we kill them.”

Elliot shuddered a little. “Christ.”

“Those don’t tend to last long, fortunately,” Munro said. “The ones that do last are the ones we should worry about. They can be smart. I don’t mean ‘mistaken for functional people’ like your Convies, I mean that their IQ can be seemingly immeasurable, like… like Imperial Creed. Or sometimes, they come with… with abilities… Freakishly powerful ones at that.”

“Wait,” Elliot said. “So. I just need to get this straight. Sometimes, your newfoals come out either half-baked, or just… well...”

“The bakery analogy doesn’t really work at this point, does it?” Bowman asked. “Maybe, it’s more like a place that mass-produces unremarkable cookies suddenly and inexplicably makes the perfect cookie.”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Munro said, nodding.

“So then,” Elliot said, “If a newfoal comes out…”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to use Bowman’s simile.

“...like that, then what happens?” Elliot asked. “Are they all like Caliburn? She was a challenge, but...”

“Well, here’s the thing: There is no baseline for anomalous newfoals. All we know is that they’re inevitably terrifying. We have one recorded newfoal that could raise the dead,” Munro said. “Kraber killed it. There was Imperial Creed, who was… I suppose you’d call him a tactical savant. And apparently, one that could switch back to human form at will… no idea what happened to that one. There were a few more involved in an incident in Vermont - again, Kraber was there, and beat one to death with a sledgehammer …”

“He seems to get everywhere,” the Doctor commented.

“And then there's rumors of six of them in a group up in Canada,” Munro continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, “which hasn’t happened since we imprisoned Shieldwall-”

“I don’t know who that is,” Elliot said.

“Sorry,” Munro said. “I get caught up in this sometimes. Shieldwall was a PER potion-expert who somehow figured out how to create anomalous newfoals, among other things. Field reports say he’d deliberately screw with the potioning process to see what came out.”

“And,” Elliot said. “You had a pony who would deliberately screw with the process.’

“He’d create monsters,” Munro said, shivering. “Whatever this Caliburn newfoal is, we need it out of the way. And fast.”

“We certainly haven’t seen the last of her,” Elliot said.

“Or this ‘Morgause’, either,” Munro added. He sighed. “In any case, thanks again. And thanks for your time, Bowman - Doctor.”

He nodded to them both, and walked off in the opposite direction. The Doctor sighed.

“Hard to believe I invite that man to my wake,” he said with a bemused expression.

“Your what now?” Elliot asked.

The Doctor waved a hand. “Long story, David. It's good to see you.”

“And you,” Elliot replied. “You cut your hair?”

“Oh, I’ve been pottering around,” the Doctor said, waving a hand. “I’ve actually spent some time on the other Equus, chatted with my learned counterparts about things. Nothing major.” He clapped, smiling. “So - what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could take me back to my world,” Elliot asked quietly. “I need to speak with the Council about getting more troops here.”

The Doctor nodded once. “I know Doctor Whooves on this world is acting something as a taxi service, but he doesn’t have access to your world via a quantum signature lock yet - or at least I don’t think he’s gotten around to doing it yet. I’ll have a word with Cheerilee - that is, Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee - and see if she wants anyone or anypony else to go over to your world while we’re at it.”

“Good idea,” Elliot said with a nod. “Don’t be too long though. I get the feeling we’re going to need those troops sooner rather than later.”

“No doubt,” the Doctor said grimly. “Still -”

“Dave!” a familiar voice called, interrupting the Doctor.

The Doctor blinked in surprise, and Elliot turned and smiled.

“Speak of the devil,” he said. “Hello, John.”

His mane ruffled and his tie even looser than normal, Hell Blazer looked - for once - less than irritated. More like… excited?

“Dave, I need your permission for like - a day’s leave,” he said, speaking quickly.

“A - say what now?” Elliot said, frowning. “Leave? How come?”

“I've had a b-b-fucking legendary idea,” Hell Blazer replied. “I just need to find a guy, then summon another guy. No bigger, really, but I need time off to do it.”

Elliot paused for a moment, and then chuckled. John Constantine, pony or human, would never change.

“I'm leaving Lyra in charge for a day or so while I’m seeing to stuff back home,” he told the Converted. “Ask her, tell her I said yes.”

Hell Blazer nodded. “Cheers, mate. Promise ya, you'll love this.”

He trotted off, leaving Elliot alone with the Doctor.

“I'd better get going,” the redhead said. “The sooner you have those troops here, the better. I remember how tenacious the Solaminan Empire was, and believe me, what it lacks in finesse the Solar Empire makes up for in sheer doggedness. We’ll have a hard time, no question.”

Elliot sighed. “You know, I was afraid of that. Still, I've got faith in my people.”

***

Cheerilee’s office. John F. Kennedy Airport, New York.

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee, as it happened, had a few names she wanted on the list of people to go over to Elliot’s Earth.

“I know Vinyl Scratch put in a request as soon as the option became available,” she said quietly. “And Moondancer and Princess Cadance have both put petitions to visit the other Earth too - something about wanting to meet ponies over there.”

“Anyone else, while we’re at it?” the Doctor asked.

“There’s a few officials who might want the chance to go over, strengthen diplomatic ties,” Cheerilee said thoughtfully. “Think I’ll send Richter and White, though.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows went up. “What, Paul ‘half the drinks cabinet by midday’ Richter and ‘come on’ Eileen White?”

“What?” Cheerilee asked. “Richter expressed interest in going over to the other Earth for diplomatic purposes, and he’s highly qualified. And he always has White with him. God knows why.”

The Doctor sighed. “Fine, just tell him to bring his own booze. That Earth won’t be able to sustain his alcoholism - God knows it barely sustains anyone else’s - and Gods save us if he ever tries Ol’ Trotspur.”

“Old what now?”

“Ol’ Trotspur,” the Doctor repeated. “You have to pronounce the apostrophe or the magic property of the beer doesn't work.”

Cheerilee sighed and shook her head. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask.” She looked at her list. “Also, I’m having First Lieutenant Winston’s group assigned to go to that world to accompany BDF forces in action.”

The Doctor frowned slightly. “Winston… not sure I’m familiar.”

“R&D weapon tester, him and his whole team,” Cheerilee replied. “I had them on active duty at Boston - their group supported Kraber’s during the fighting.”

The Doctor nodded. “Any particular reason they're going?”

“Intel purposes,” Cheerilee replied. “I need more info on the Solaminan Empire. Sending troops to recon, engage and generally see the situation first hand is my first step to achieving that. Plus it's a nice tacit show of support without committing a full force.”

“A fair point,” the Doctor said.

“Glad you agree, Bowman,” Cheerilee said irritably, “since they'd have been going whether you did or not. I’ll have the entire group going to Elliot’s world meet you in room 72b. Know which one that is?”

“Eeyup,” the Doctor grinned. “Don’t look so stressed, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Why not?” Cheerilee asked irritably. “I’m worrying about an incoming attack, two Tyrants, my partner being in another dimension - and God only knows what’s happening to him - and now I’m sending some of our best people off to another other dimension that I’ve never seen and I’ve only the word of people from that dimension that it’s even safe. You’ll forgive me if I’m a little stressed.”

The Doctor shrugged. “These things will be true whether you’re stressed or not, and being not stressed guarantees less heart attacks. Besides, have a little faith. Things might be finally looking up for both your worlds.”

“You’ll forgive me if my enthusiasm is curbed, Doctor Bowman,” Cheerilee muttered as the Doctor walked out of the room.

***

Canterlot Labs, ‘Tyrant’ Equus.

Queen Celestia gazed at the hulking mass in the stasis tube with a neutral expression. The thing was vaguely pony shaped, but had no discernible features, save for visible veins at certain intervals.

“It doesn’t look that impressive,” she said after a moment. “When I asked for a weapon to end all resistance at Boston entirely, one… deformed Newfoal wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Twilight Sparkle winced slightly at her mistresses less-than-enthusiastic response to the creature she had made for her.

“I'm here to create harmony,” Queen Celestia said. “I despise creatures such as these. They're not perfect newfoals. Individualistic, unreliable, and… sometimes taking their own initiative. It's simply too chaotic and human to be relied upon.”

“And yet,” Twilight said, withering slightly under Queen Celestia’s glare.

“Yes?” Celestia asked.

“It's just… anomalous newfoals have inordinately high success rates,” Twilight said, “and we have enough newfoals that the protocols should be well in place. Shieldwall’s work held promise, but-”

“Shieldwall was a fool who thought he knew my will. Perhaps he would have received a second chance, had he lived,” Celestia said.

“Actually, he's still alive,” Twilight said.

“Variable definitions - In his current state, he's as good as dead to me,” Celestia said coldly. “In any case. Can you assure me that this thing will succeed?”

“I assure you, your majesty,” she said quietly. “The creature in this glass container is a bioweapon the likes of which the humans have only heard about in their horror stories.”

Celestia glanced down at Twilight with a raised eyebrow. “You are certain?”

“Yes, your majesty,” the purple mare said with a bow. “I promise you, this creature will rain terror upon the humans and their corrupt allies. I dare say it will even kill that Avatar…”

She trailed off at Celestia’s unimpressed expression.

“I tried to kill that thing in battle,” Celestia said quietly. “I tried to have it killed by one of my top agents via dream-manipulation. I let you have autonomy in creating new Newfoal types - which I note have still not reported back…”

“I… am trying to ascertain Morgause’s present location, my lady,” Twilight said.

“All this we have done,” Celestia continued, as though Twilight had not spoken. “And yet so far, the human creature still seems to be alive. Forgive me, dear Twilight, if your proficiency in this matter is not entirely apparent to me at this present moment.”

Twilight gulped. “Your majesty, this thing is unlike anything we have previously encountered, but it is still only one human. Surely…”

“Surely, nothing,” Celestia cut her off. “I am done with taking things for granted, done with letting the ineptitude of others ruin my plans and threaten our work.” She took a breath. “I have reconsidered my plan of attack further.”

“Further?” Twilight asked. “My lady, we have already altered our initial plans to include the storm-front cover and hold back significant forces as reserves -”

“Do you question me, Twilight?” Celestia snapped.

“N-no, your majesty,” Twilight stammered.

“Good,” Celestia said with narrowed eyes. “You can still be… replaced. Or convinced otherwise.”

Twilight swallowed nervously, her eyes widening in fear.

Celestia smirked. “I will not be joining our forces upon the field in this battle.”

Twilight nodded. “I… I thought that was to be your final triumph - personally appearing to break their resolve.”

“It is imprudent, given the current circumstances,” Celestia replied, frowning at Twilight’s question. “Instead, I will commission another mirror clone and send it in my place. It may not prove able to overcome the forces they send, but it will not be a trifle.”

“Very… very good, your majesty,” Twilight bowed. “Though it is only a pale reflection of your might, it -”

“Furthermore,” Celestia added, cutting her off. “I will not be visiting the mirror pool alone.”

Twilight blinked, looking up. “Your majesty?”

Celestia grinned viciously. “Twilight - have the 19th and 20th Newfoal Militia, together with a contingent of Rainbow’s Wonderbolts, join me in the Everfree. It is time, I think, to make full use of the magic our realm truly possesses.”

“But…” Twilight said. “The pool erodes so many things, eventually. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It is a queen’s duty to serve her people,” Celestia said imperiously. “And the clone served admirably.” She smirked. “Besides, can you imagine their distress if more than one of me attacks?”

***

A bar in Boston, ‘Spectrum’ Earth.

“To Dave!” Sam Lake said, holding up his glass. “Best damn friend a guy could f’ckin’ ask for.”

Sam’s voice was slurred, and all of his friends could tell he was utterly intoxicated, but it didn't matter. They were intoxicated too. Losing a good friend tended to do that to you. John Constantine knew that better than most. Most of the people he had been known to call his ‘friends’ had died off in various unpleasant or downright gruesome ways over the years.

“Damn,” he heard Sam mutter as he leaned over the bar. “God… fucking… damn.”

Their little group - True Grit, Steady Hoof, Errant Flight, John and Sam - had been joined, this time, by a few people they'd known over the years. One was Angus Reid, a ex-HLF Scotsman who had joined the PHL after speaking with the group on Christmas, last year. There were also a couple of Reavers with them: Erin Hansen, the young tattoo artist, was sitting near Sam, leaning her head on his shoulder, and with her were a few other people - one was a man named Peter McReady, who seemed permanently on edge. Another was a blonde woman who seemed permanently sad, her long hair tied back in a bun. She'd said her name was ‘Yarrow’. Finally, at the edge of the group, sat the Reavers’ John Idle, his favourite sniper rifle (an ancient Mauser) slung over his shoulder still.

“Yarrow, as in Maxi Yarrow?” Reid asked.

“Yeah,” the woman had said quietly. “My Dad.”

“Huh,” Reid said with a nod. “So, you weren't… y’know, with his group?”

“No,” she said. “I was PHL, actually.”

This had surprised Reid. “You left?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Don't want to talk about it.”

Reid had looked as though he wanted to press the matter, but hadn't. Personally, John thought that was a very wise move - any woman who was the daughter of Maximilian Yarrow and had been in the PHL was likely in possession of enough proverbial balls to kick his arse twice over if he happened to say the wrong thing.

“And you?” Reid asked McReady.

“I was one of Yarrow’s men,” the man said stiffly.

Reid narrowed his eyes. “HLF?”

McReady sighed. “Don't start.”

“You're ex-HLF now, right?” Reid asked, throwing a look at Sam, who was still drinking, Erin still leaning against him. “You and - and that one?”

“No ‘ex’ here, thank you,” Erin said, giving Reid the finger.

“The fuck are you doing in Boston, then?” Reid asked. “You HLF bastards should be locked the fuck u-”

And in a flash, John Idle had moved, standing up and grabbing Reid by the shirt in one smooth motion.

“First,” he said, his voice deadly calm, “we're drinking. You wanna start shit, I’ll be happy to lug your sorry little Scots arse outside, but not in my favourite fuckin’ bar in Boston.”

“Let go of me you fuckin’ prick!” Reid swore. He struggled, but Idle’s grip was strong and the man was tougher than he appeared.

“Second,” Idle continued, as though Reid wasn't even speaking. “You were with Taskforce Paris on the Purity when Maxi told the lot of you that the HLF needed to prioritise. But you, like most of the rest of your pricks, decided to keep doin’ what you were doin’. You could have left then, but you didn't. You could have seen the sense in not fucking with the PHL then, but you didn't. Took Vikki Kraber making a fancy speech for you to realise that you'd fucked up. Christ, how screwed up do you have to be for that bastard to have more of a conscience in his head?”

Reid struggled a little more.

“And finally,” Idle continued, “Maxi Yarrow was the best fucking man in the HLF. He fought his damndest for all of you, and all you lot did was spit in his face and pretend he didn't exist, even after you left the HLF to join the PHL. So if you wanna talk ‘all yammer and no hammer’, Angus, you speak for your fuckin’ self, but you don't dare speak for the Reavers, don't you dare speak for the people sitting here, and don't you dare ruin drinking time.”

He let Reid go, and the Scottish man blinked, before straightening.

“Why the fuck did you keep the HLF name, then, huh?” he asked. “The HLF is -”

“Who the fuck decided arseholes like Janvier, Lovikov and Galt spoke for the rest of us?” McReady asked. “Huh? Who the fuck asked the rest of the fucking HLF what we thought of those pricks? No one. You just decided to lump us all together without bothering to ask. Why the fuck did they get to define the HLF, and not - I dunno, Kevin?”

“Sit the fuck down, you lot,” Sam cut in, waving a hand. “That shit’s over now. The Reavers are doing… whatever the fuck they're doing now with those sods from that other Earth, and Dave’s still dead.”

“And I’m drinking with HLF,” Reid muttered. “Christ, I thought I was away from you bastards.”

“Yup,” True Grit said, speaking up for the first time in a while, his expression equally as morose as Sam’s. “Cheer up, though, Angie. If they knock you out for mouthing off, me and Steady Hoof’ll carry you home.”

“You're a real comfort,” Reid said shortly.

John Constantine had simply sat and listened to the exchange without comment. Reid was… well, he had issues with the HLF. Time was, John would have agreed. But John was old now. He didn't look it, to his own eternal bemusement, but he was definitely the wrong side of forty. He'd been born long before any of these idiots (except maybe Idle, because God knew how old that prick was). Besides, John and his friends had fought alongside the Reavers, in the day. Took all sorts.

“Here, mate,” a familiar voice asked John. He turned, and blinked.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” he said tonelessly.

He was looking at a yellow Earth Pony, smoking a cigarette with a vaguely irritated expression on his face. He was wearing a pony-sized shirt and tie, and had an oversized - very familiar - trenchcoat on over this.

“How goes it,” the pony asked, taking a drag from his cig.

“You’re fucking joking,” John replied, blinking. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Nope,” the pony said with a sigh. “Trust me, mate, I wish I b-fucking was. I happened to like my hair back in the day.”

“You're…” John began, motioning at the pony.

“A pastel pissin’ pony,” the pony said with a humourless smile. “Well done, ten out of ten for b-b-fuckin’ observation, dickwad.”

John sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “Alright, I’ll bite. What do you want?”

The pony grinned, before holding up one hoof. “I've come to teach you the ultimate secret of magic.”

John snorted. “Which is what?”

A flash of fire appeared in the pony’s hoof, and John blinked.

“Any cunt could do it.”

***

Outside Doctor Bowman’s TARDIS, PHL HQ, New York.

Elliot was waiting patiently as the various PHL reps coming to his world arrived at the TARDIS. First came Vinyl Scratch, Moondancer and Cadance, all of whom seemed rather familiar with travel by TARDIS. Vinyl was short and to the point, entering the TARDIS quickly. The other two, however, stayed a moment to talk with Elliot.

“Seeing another world should be quite the experience,” Moondancer said to him with a smile.

“Agreed,” Cadance added. “Thank you for giving us the opportunity, Brigadier Elliot.”

“I’m just a messenger boy, ladies,” Elliot said with a slight bow. “Other people get to do the heavy lifting.”

“‘Heavy lifting’,” Moondancer chuckled. “That's an interesting metaphor.”

Elliot shrugged. “An accurate one, I’d say. I'm not the driver.”

“Whether you're the one doing the heavy lifting or not,” Cadance said with a small smile, “you're the facilitator of this particular little miracle of… high technology?”

“Whatever one calls these ‘TARDIS’s’,” Moondancer said with a shrug. “Or should the plural of that be TARDES? Regardless, there is that old phrase about ‘any sufficiently advanced technology’...”

“Quite,” Cadance said with a smile. “In any case, Brigadier Elliot, I'm hoping to learn a lot from your world: a whole new history, and whole new ponies to speak to about it.”

“We can definitely provide that, your highness,” Elliot smiled.

The diplomatic crew arrived next, if you could call one slightly dishevelled looking man with stubble and a surly looking woman in combat fatigues ‘a crew’.

“Paul Richter,” the man introduced himself. “This is Eileen White, my bodyguard. I'll be liaising with your government in the days to come.”

Elliot shook the man’s hand, noting a surprisingly firm grip. “Good to meet you, Mr Richter.”

“Likewise,” Richter said with a smile. “Come on, Eileen.”

The woman grumbled something under her breath as the two entered the TARDIS. Elliot chuckled - they sounded like quite a pair. It would be interesting to see what they managed to accomplish on his Earth.

Behind the two-person diplomatic team came a group of human and pony soldiers Elliot was quite familiar with. He smiled as they approached.

“First Lieutenant Winston,” he said warmly. “Good to see you've managed to stay alive.”

“Eh, would’ve been better if I had gotten to finish my meet with that Applejack horse,” the First Lieutenant said, still sporting some bruises it seems. He looked Elliot over, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Speakin’ of alive, I thought you got potioned at some point.”

Elliot’s expression fell somewhat. “Wasn't me - it was my counterpart, the one from your world.”

“Ah, so that’s why Kraber stole my shine,” Winston drawled, motioning to the rest of his unit. “I’m sure you remember everyone else.”

“Of course I do,” Elliot responded, nodding to the group. However, he then noticed an odd figure out - they seemed to be wearing some kind of full body suit. “Winston, who’s that?”

“That’d be Bea, my Sergeant Major,” Winston answered. “She’s able to join us this time around seeing how she was healed up enough for it.”

Elliot nodded. “Good to meet you, Sergeant Major.”

Said Sergeant Major looked at him silently, the only noise being the sound of her breathing through the mask’s ventilation.

“Don’t mind her,” Carmichael spoke up, “she hasn’t said a word for a while. I think she’s still getting used to the fact that you really are from some other Earth.”

“Yeah, well maybe she just don’t feel like talkin’,” Winston said coldly, eyeing his subordinate who fell silent. He turned back to Elliot. “So, any real important details you wanna share with us Elliot?”

Elliot shrugged. “Your presence was requested by your superiors, not mine. My guess is someone will have instructions for you upon your arrival.”

Winston snorted. “And here I thought you liked us.”

Elliot chuckled. “I do. Unfortunately, even an Avatar of Albion has a boss.”

“Don’t we all?” Sharp Horn muttered

“Mr Elliot,” Air Blitz spoke up, “are we really going to your world?”

“Yup,” Elliot replied. “Seems that way.”

“Shouldn’t doing this be a lot more difficult?” Steel Forge wondered.

“What d’you mean Forge?” Jenston asked the Earth Pony mare, who shrugged slightly.

“We’re going from your Earth to his Earth, I thought doing something like this would be really complicated and have a bunch of eggheads running around with some big and fancy device,” she said. “I mean, I know that the Doc’s box can go from Equestria to our Earth but this one’s able to just… jump from one world to another.”

“What’s your point?” Snart asked.

“I’m just sayin’, this seems too easy,” Steel Forge said simply. “I’m half expecting that there’s supposed to be some catch like with how the potion was.”

“No catch here,” a cheerful voice said, as Doctor Bowman popped his head out of the TARDIS door. “It's a little bit of a cheat, but I don't expect many people are counting.”

“Who though?” Steel Forged asked. “Who would be counting?”

The Doctor shrugged. “You'd be very surprised: there's always something watching, even if you don't think there is.”

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence that dragged on from that.

“Elliot, your friend is kinda weird,” Winston said bluntly.

“His friend is also still present,” the Doctor winked. “Anyway - all aboard, next stop Scotland, all kilts on deck, no underpants allowed on pain of forced Haggis ingestion.”

He walked back into the TARDIS, and Elliot sighed.

“You're right,” he told Winston.

“Never a good thing,” the First Lieutenant responded, before walking into the box. The rest of his unit followed in after him, except for the Sergeant Major and Elliot.

“...Who are you?” Bea suddenly asked, though it was slightly muffled by the gas mask.

Elliot laughed. “David Elliot, Brigadier, British Defence Force. Nobody that special.”

Bea stood silently, before lifting up and removing her mask. To Elliot’s surprise, the face under seemed no older than eighteen despite the hardened expression and the fact it was partially burned. One eye even seemed possibly blind.

“Then I suppose you should be careful Brigadier,” she said cooly, “nobodies don’t tend to last, unless they manage to become a somebody.”

Elliot shrugged. “I've lasted long enough.”

He turned and walked into the TARDIS, leaving Bea to follow. The Doctor was at his console, inputting commands.

“Ready for a trip?” he asked.

“Yep,” Elliot smiled. “It'll be good to be home.”

“I’m sure it will be,” the Doctor said. “Actually, there might be something I can show you that you'll find interesting.”

“Oh?” Elliot asked.

“Yup,” the Doctor said with a wink. “Show you when we get there.”

***

Doctor Bowman’s TARDIS, No Time.

This TARDIS was smaller than Doctor Whooves’, darker and more homely, a warm light glowing from the centre of the console and the lights above their heads. The man himself was sitting in a chair, occasionally glancing up from a tablet he was holding while sipping a Diet Coke.

Vinyl was looking up at the dark ceiling with a frown beneath her glasses, wondering just what the hell she’d gotten herself involved with.

“A bitty for your thoughts, Vinyl?”

Vinyl turned, to see Moondancer smiling at her.

“Dunno, where should I start?” Vinyl asked. “Even for a week in the PHL, these last few days have been batshit, and I say that working for a place that has official protocol for dealing with zombies!”

“It happened twice,” Moondancer reminded her. “I think that’s enough for us to have emergency protocol.”

“Anyway, magic man appears. Magic man kills clone of Queen Bitch with literal Excalibur. Magic man reveals that he’s from our world’s bad ending, more or less, regrows woman’s arm on live television. Magic man’s friends send us the Brotherhood of Steel, mages, and a live-and-bucking Lyra, complete with cybernetics, which drives the cults insane.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And now we’re going to that world. Would ‘shit be wack, yo’ cover this?”

“More like this is stuff such as you can barely dream of,” Moondancer commented. “But then, what has, since the world of Equus first met Earth… or should that be the other way around?”

“Hell, I don’t think the best drugs I ever tried could gimme a trip this wild,” Vinyl snorted. “Tell me straight, ‘Dancer. How in the name of Faust’s spare stockings are you not shitting bricks right now?”

“I could give you an elaborate, well-reasoned response,” Moondancer replied. “But the simple truth is, when you’ve grown up together with Lyra Heartstrings, you learn to expected the unexpected.”

“I never really got that saying,” Vinyl said. “I mean, if it’s unexpected, how are you really meant to expect it in the first place?”

“That’s the part where you learn to stop thinking of time as a straight line,” Moondancer explained sagely, “and accept that what happened will happen, and so on and so forth.” She patted the wall of the ship fondly. “Look where we are, the best place to be talking about such things.”

“First one to say ‘wibbly wobbley, timey wimey’,” the red-headed Doctor commented from his chair, “gets to sit in the naughty corner and think about what they’ve done. It’s just so overexposed at this point!”

“Funny,” Moondancer told Vinyl under her breath, “I think the Headmaster of Celestia’s School said the same thing to me, once. See what I mean about causality, or cause and effect?”

“Still, gotta wonder,” Vinyl said quietly. “Another Tyrant. What the hell, y’know? Though at least ours didn’t go for the stupid name.” She snorted. “What the hell is ‘Solamina’ supposed to mean, anyway? It sounds like something you get from Google Translate.”

Moondancer shrugged. “Perhaps it’s be taken as a sign this unknown Celestia, at heart, does not quite believe that she is the real Celestia.”

“It’s Adamantine tradition, older than her,” the red-headed Doctor put in. “Change of name signalling change of direction in one’s guiding principle as a ruler.”

“I… have absolutely no idea what ‘Adamantine Tradition’ is,” Vinyl said.

“She was born eleven millennia ago to the heir of the Adamantine dynasty, a Unicorn noble house,” the Doctor clarified. “Which you’ve also never heard of. One thing you’ll both learn fast - that world is very unlike your own.”

For some reason, these remarks got Moondancer to look ponderous.

“You ok?” Vinyl asked her.

“Yes… I suppose,” Moondancer assured her in turn, looking away from the console she’d been staring at. “Scholar, remember. This is, ultimately, an inordinate amount of information to absorb in one sitting.”

“Does make you wonder how different we all are,” Vinyl said quietly. “I mean… the Queen Bitch isn’t that old - hell, eleven millennia is ancient compared to other things from our world. Maybe we’re both guys or something. Or maybe Aegis has a bad goatee. Or maybe he’s not as big.”

“Or there’s a world where we assume human shape,” Moondancer pointed out. “Though I almost hope that isn’t the case. Down that path leads all kind of new madness and complication. Can we change the subject, please?”

“Sure,” Vinyl said, smiling. “So - what are you lookin’ forward to?”

Moondancer sat herself down on the floor by the wall. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s sometimes hard for me to tell whether we’ve idealized the Equestria from before the war, or, conversely, forgotten what was truly good about it. It isn’t as if we were lacking for potentially world-shattering threats back then, either, and I guess something had to give, eventually.” She paused for thought. “But I’m probably just happy to know there’s a world where so many of us who died are still alive…”

“You mean like their Lyra,” Vinyl stated, rather than asked.

“Amongst others,” Moondancer acknowledged. “That’s the personal aspect. What would I be to this Lyra? She’d know nothing about me. Just some familiar-looking stranger who’s been through hell and shouldn’t be bringing that to her doorstep. Have you thought about what it’d be, to see Octavia again? Or, meeting yourself?”

“Yes and yes,” Vinyl admitted immediately. She paused. “And it will be… fucking weird. Like… like the uncanny valley, times fifty. Hell, even seeing that other Lyra was weird…” She paused. “It was a constant effort not to hug her, lay myself at her forehooves, or start sobbing. Haven’t even spoken to her, yet. Goodness knows what she must be feeling.”

Moondancer laughed softly. “‘Lay myself at her forehooves’? I do still feel surprise, at times, that you of all ponies would eagerly embrace the myth of the Golden Lyre.”

“It’s not a myth, though,” Vinyl said softly. “Whatever the exaggerations, there’d be no PHL without Lyra. There might not even be any of us, still alive without her. Then what would we have? Different HLF factions trying to kill each other, no magic weapons, nothing. She saved us all, didn’t she? That’s pretty much the definition of ‘messiah’.”

“You raise a good argument,” Moondancer conceded. “Messiah… I spent my first few months on Earth in Israel, you know. Unlike the Christians, the Jews are not awaiting the Second Coming but the act of arrival itself for their Savior, which, to be honest, knowing the state of Earth for centuries, strikes me as a more plausible expectation.” She let that sink in. “But when I moved to America, what caught my attention were the stories they’ve built around the Antichrist, a figure, I should clarify, who appears nowhere in either Biblical Testaments; completely the invention from a latter date. And I’ve wondered, many times. Would the Messiah’s antithesis know they’re the enemy of Messiah… or truly believe themselves to be the Savior?”

“I’m still hung up on the idea of there being an anti-Lyra,” Vinyl said. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. There’ve been plenty of candidates.”

“Vinyl…” Moondancer said, not quite sighing.

“To answer your question? Honestly, I think the answer might not be either,” Vinyl said. “Nobody really says they’re evil as they do bad things, and I don’t think they’d say they’re the savior either. As somepony who’s seen many a questionable PHL decision, we don’t say it’s totally good. We just say it’s ‘necessary,’ whatever that means.”

“Speaking from a cosmic perspective,” the Doctor interjected once more, “the greatest evils are committed from a position of wanting to do good, one way or another. Anyone who consciously wants to do harm likely will not have the mindset for long-term planning. Some of the servants of both Queen Celestia and Astra Solamina Maxima -”

“Is that her full name?” Vinyl asked. “Fuckin’ weird.”

“- believe they are acting in the service of a greater good,” the Doctor finished. “And watch your language in here. I’ve turned the swear filters off, but I can rescind that privilege.”

“How do you know so much about Sola-wiener, anyway?” Vinyl asked.

“Because I was there when her Empire fell, in another life,” the Doctor replied. “Different universe, of course. But I saw some of the things she’s done.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “You think you know evil, but she could still surprise you, Ms Scratch.”

Vinyl snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m tempted to ask,” Moondancer said. “But why compound our troubles? You’ve confirmed that this Solamina can be defeated, Doctor. How long until we arrive?”

The Doctor sighed and stood up, pressing a switch and looking up at the scanner. “Barring catastrophic navigational spack-up or worm-sign the likes of which even God has never seen, we should be there… soon?” He sighed. “I should probably go warn Cadance not to expect the warmest welcome.”

“Poor Cadance,” Moondancer said sadly. “Sometimes, I feel like she’ll never forgive herself simply for being here, when her husband is not.”

“Well at least he's not -” the Doctor began, but he cut himself off as David Elliot walked past.

“I think we’re all happier if you don’t finish that sentence,” Vinyl whispered.

“What sentence?” Elliot asked, glancing among the passengers, a slight frown on his face.

“We were… discussing some individuals who've had different fortunes in different worlds,” the Doctor said tactfully. “Best, perhaps, not to mention those fates to certain other individuals.”

Elliot blinked, and then nodded slowly. “Gotcha. Just wanted to check if we were nearly there.”

“Just told these ladies that it should be ‘soon’,” the Doctor assured him.

“Whatever ‘soon’ means in wibbly wobbley, timey wimey speak,” Vinyl snorted.

The Doctor gave her a look. “Naughty corner.”

“You're joking.”

“No.” He pointed to a corner. “Naughty corner. Mush.”

“Why does the TARDIS even have a naughty corner?” Vinyl grumbled.

“It was installed for when Colonel Hex came to visit,” the Doctor replied with a snort. “Usually he'd sit there with a dunce’s cap until he shut up about making me craft guns or meddling in playing with fire.”

Moondancer actually had to suppress a grin at the ridiculous exchange. “Did he really-”

“It sounds funny until the moment you have a PHL colonel on his bended knee, practically begging for information on forces beyond the understanding of most sentient life,” the Doctor sighed. “‘Oh look at me, I’m Colonel Hex, and I want to save us from an evil Empire, so I’ll ask anything for help! Hello, Mr. Devil, do you have 50% off?’ Half surprised he never asked Cthulhu.”

“‘Forces beyond the -’” Elliot began, before cutting himself off. “I don't want to know.”

“No, you don't,” the Doctor replied. “Honestly, Cthulhu isn't even that scary in person. Plays a mean game of bridge. Me, him and Maxi Yarrow once…”

“Hey, why do you need to warn Cadance, anyway?” Vinyl asked, cutting him off before he went into a tangent. “She's still on our side in the other world, right?”

The Doctor gave her a sad look. “No. She's a supporter of Solamina. The Empress is her distant aunt, after all. Family ties run very deep.”

Vinyl blinked. “She… I can't even… you're kidding, right?”

“She's not alone,” the Doctor said. “A great many of the ponies whose friendship you value on your Earth are supporters of the Solaminan Empire.”

“I… I’m not, am I?” Vinyl asked.

“Oh, no,” the Doctor reassured her.

The previous humor in Moondancer’s face turned somewhat cynical. “Family,” she muttered. “Loyalty, duty, all good things in principle, which more than once have driven people to do wrong for the only ‘greater good’ they recognize, their own lot’s.”

“We’re all guilty of that,” Elliot said quietly. “Even me.”

“Indeed,” the Doctor said. “In any case, Ms Scratch, you're on the same side, roughly speaking, as your counterpart.”

“Thank fuck,” Vinyl said.

“Swearing,” the Doctor commented. He turned to Moondancer. “As for your counterpart - well, I’m not sure you'd want to know, would you?” He gave a soft smile. “We each weave our own destinies, after all, each one unique. I don't know what value you'd find in knowing hers.”

“Consider it just curiosity,” Moondancer said. “But I’ve got a good enough idea about where I was at this point in our history.”

“Curiosity is hazardous to cats,” the Doctor replied with a wink.

“And yet apparently, satisfaction brings them back,” Moondancer counted.

“How many times have you seen satisfaction do that? And it isn't the same history, necessarily, and certainly not for you.” He looked to Elliot. “Could you go fetch Princess Cadance and the diplomats, please? And that other lot, too, if you like, though they'd better not have made a mess of my TARDIS.”

Elliot nodded. “I can do that.”

He walked off, leaving the Doctor alone with the two mares, a thoughtful expression on his face. He flicked a switch on the console, before pausing.

“Is your father alive, Ms Moondancer?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes, why?” Moondancer asked, blinking. “So’s my mother. They’re both a lot like me, though, just content to try and live out their little lives, weathering whatever storms the world throws our way. Morning Roast was the truly proactive one in the family…”

The Doctor sniffed, before flicking a switch. On the scanner, the image of a mare both like and unlike Moondancer appeared, wearing what looked like a Royal Guard officer’s uniform minus the helmet.

“Captain Moondancer,” he said stiffly. “Solaminan Guard, Iron Wall guard detachment, outpost 21-omega.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a small vial of orange liquid from it, eyeing it wearily. “And eventual volunteer for project False God. The first, in either case I've known.”

“She's a Guardspony?” Vinyl asked.

“Was,” the Doctor said quietly.

“Huh,” Vinyl said, looking to Moondancer. “There but for the grace of God, huh?”

Moondancer frowned. “What’s any of this got to do with my parentage, Doctor?”

The Doctor smiled wanly. “Her father was a Royal Guard. I don't have perfect records, but when she was young she lived with him in a remote colony, disputed by the Griffon Empire. The Dukes of the Empire are given a lot of leeway, so their personal armies dispute those territories… quite vigorously. The Captain’s mother was already dead when her father was killed in action.”

Moondancer rubbed the back of her neck. “Please don’t let’s talk about this now, Doctor. The idea of Lyra still being alive somewhere is difficult enough to process. This just brings back painful memories of Morning… I’ve never truly had a taste for the endless, cyclical nature of war.”

“Take it as a lesson,” the Doctor said quietly. “Where you're both going, what you assume to be true is not guaranteed to be so. Those you assume to be one way may be another. You'd be surprised how many times such mistakes can be made.”

“Some lesson,” Vinyl said quietly.

“This new Empire is one thing,” Moondancer said, “but if we’re bringing war to this new, untouched Equestria,” she added melancholically, “I might feel my curiosity already begin to slip away, replaced by a whole different set of fears for the future…”

“That's why we've got to win,” Vinyl said with a smirk. “So that the new Equestria Marcus found doesn’t have to suffer the worst.”

Moondancer gave a sad smile. “I’m afraid I can’t think that way, Vinyl.”

“Well, let me do it for you, then,” Vinyl said with a shrug. “I've always had confidence enough for the world.”

“You've acted like it, at least,” the Doctor said. “I'm curious - what do you expect to find?”

Vinyl shrugged. “New types of alcohol?”

***

The Scottish Archives, March 3rd, 2030.

It was good to be home.

“Commander!” one of the troops called out to him, waving. Elliot waved back, smiling almost automatically at the simple pleasure of having a friendly face wave to him.

“Brigadier Elliot,” another soldier saluted, standing to attention by a crate he'd been pushing.

He saluted back. “At ease, trooper. What you got there?”

“Lance and Javelin rifle ammo,” the soldier said eagerly. “Some of the newest stuff I've seen!”

“That's for the Clad rifles, right?” Elliot asked.

“Yes, sir!” the soldier said. He paused, looking up at Elliot with a concerned expression. “Hey, sir…”

Elliot smiled. “What?”

“Is it true what they're saying?” the soldier asked. “About the other world - that there's another Tyrant?”

Elliot’s expression fell slightly. “I'm afraid so, trooper.” His smile came back. “But don't you worry about it. We’re not alone in this, not anymore.”

The trooper nodded. “If you say so, sir.”

Elliot nodded back, his smile widening. “Hey, you need a hand pushing this?”

“Nah, should have it, sir,” the soldier said with a smile. “But it is really good to have you back.”

“It's nice to be back,” Elliot replied, as the soldier walked off, pushing the crate. “Really nice to be back.”

And it was. He hadn't quite realised it, but here, people smiled at him like they were glad to see him. Here, people saluted without being confused at his ragged attire. Here, people waved, smiled, didn’t whisper behind his back where they thought he couldn’t hear them.

“Never thought you’d miss it this much, right?” came the Doctor’s voice from behind him. Elliot turned, to see the red headed man smiling at him, hands firmly entrenched in his pockets.

“No,” he admitted.

“So, what’s this thing that you wanted to talk to me about?” Elliot asked him.

The Doctor smirked. “Come on - I’ll show you.”

***

First Lieutenant Winston and his team were asked to wait in one of the atriums in the Archives, leaving them to marvel at the extensive underground complex. Troopers in a variety of rag-tag equipment were being moved at various times to different sections, directed by officers in beaten-up uniforms and fatigues, and more than once a handful of soldiers in what could only be described as bulky power armour passed by, carrying heavy weaponry the likes of which even the First Lieutenant’s team had never seen.

There was some murmuring from Winston’s unit, Bea seemed to be looking at said handful with a raised eyebrow (the eyebrow she had anyway). For the First Lieutenant though, he had a more vocal response.

“What’re those supposed to be?” He asked dryly.

“Looks like power armor to me,” Carmichael said. “Big, bulky power armor with huge guns, like from some kind of video game.”

“I can see that,” Winston replied making sure to take note of said armor and guns.

“So, why the confusion?”

“You’d think fancy armor from this place’s top R&D would be a bit more polished,” Winston argued.

“Sir, have you seen these guys?” Jetson spoke up. “They look pretty stripped of resources as is; the fact that they managed to make power armor in the first place is amazing in and of itself.”

“Maybe we could do an exchange,” Snart suggested. “I think we got the resources to make ‘em better.”

“Maybe you do,” came a new voice, American and filled with authority, “but that's not why you’re here, Mister.”

A new man, dark skinned and grim-faced, had strode up to the group. He wore dark fatigues, and the name Redmond was printed on his shirt.

“Major Alexander Redmond, BDF,” the man introduced himself smartly. “I’ll be your handler for the duration of your deployment.”

Winston almost frowned, but remembered his manners as it were.

“I’m First Lieutenant Winston, UN/PHL Task Force,” he introduced himself before gesturing to the Bea. “Sergeant Major Bea here is my second command.”

“Alright,” Redmond said, crossing his arms. “You know much about why you're here?”

“All I know is that we’re here to work with your Defensive Force, sir,” Winston answered. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the other details handy and are gonna share them with us.

Redmond smirked. “You'd be right, Lieutenant. Come with me.”

He turned and began walking off towards the elevator, leaving Winston’s team to follow. They did, albeit slowly, still rife with uncertainty.

Once inside the elevator, Redmond pressed the button for level U14.

“How much are you aware of our tactical situation?” he asked, throwing a glance Winston’s way.

“From what I can tell, you’re left stripped down without much and are what’s left of Earth,” Winton answered. “Why’d you ask?”

Redmond frowned. “Alright. So: we’re basically surrounded on all sides. Normally there's a combination of raids and major attacks to deal with, but these ceased when the Avatar - Brigadier Elliot - disappeared. We now know that this must have had something to do with him finding your world.”

“Okay, so what?” Winston asked. “Your world’s tyrant horse might be aware of our world now?”

“That's a possibility we’ve been worrying about, but that's not my point,” Redmond said with a slight frown. The elevator came to a halt, and he stepped out, leading the squad down a corridor. “For the last few months we've been experiencing a ‘lull’, but two days ago, one of our smaller towns in England ceased replying to all messages. We’re used to the pattern of small towns disappearing, but this one was even quieter than usual.”

He led the group to a room, where a man in a scruffy tweed jacket with a receding hairline and glasses stood waiting, alongside a fair-haired woman in a black bodysuit with a lean, muscular frame.

“Major,” the woman said, saluting.

“Major Redmond,” the man greeted. He looked to Winston and his team. “I take it these are the PHL team you mentioned?”

“Correct, Rupert,” Redmond said. “First Lieutenant Winston, meet Rupert Giles of the Watcher’s Council, and Gail Lightfoot, Iron Clad 144.”

“Nice to meet you.” Winston said simply, “So, I’m assuming you want us to go out to the village and do some digging?”

Giles sighed. “What you're going to do is Major Redmond’s business. I’m just here to advise.”

“The village of Arnside went silent at zero seven fourteen two days ago,” Lightfoot said crisply, her tongue confident. “I’m assuming you'll be deployed with my team.”

“That's correct,” Redmond said. “Lieutenant Lightfoot is the leader of Valiant Team, a fireteam of Iron Clads we have assigned to homeland missions at the present time. Their task is to go in, assess the situation, and engage enemy forces. Your team, Lieutenant Winston, will be acting as backup for them, as well as taking note of potential Solaminan tactics that you may need to report back to your superiors.”

Winston stood silent for a moment, while it was a bit troubling that they were stuck with just recon he remembered the fact that Elliot was actually a bit bewildered when he was first exposed to their way of things. For all he knew, this ‘Solamina’ horse could have her newfoals (or whatever the fuck they were called) be self destructive and bleed potion.

Getting some up front study wouldn’t hurt.

“Alright.” Winston said, “anything else we should know about?”

“Deployment will be in several days, after our requisite flyovers to ascertain the tactical situation,” Redmond said. “In that time, Mr Giles will be giving you as much intel as he can.”

“Lucky me,” Giles said with a slightly strained smile.

***

When Vinyl had gotten off of the TARDIS, the Doctor had caught up to her, a knowing expression on his face.

“You could,” he said quietly, “have just spoken to Elliot directly.”

Vinyl snorted, not caring how he guessed her purpose. “Excuse me if talking to the guy who killed a clone of the Queen Bitch and asking, ‘excuse me, Brig, can you just tell me the answer to a bunch of my dumbass questions that my mysterious new bosses gave me really vague instructions to get?’ doesn't appeal to me!”

The Doctor had sighed. “Just remember what I said. This isn't your world.”

He had walked off, leaving Vinyl alone. Now, however, she had her first ‘target’ in sight.

“Add this to my list of things I never thought I'd do,” Vinyl said to herself, looking at her scarred counterpart.

She was talking to a human in a grey jumpsuit with a blue tattoo across his face, a tired expression on her face but still trying to smile. The human jotted something down on a clipboard and then jogged off, leaving this other Vinyl - the "Avatar" Vinyl, if the designations people were coming up with - to turn and look at Vinyl.

“Hmmmm?” the scarred Vinyl - they really should come up with a better distinction - asked. “Hey, you're the - whadda they call it? 'Spectrum' me?”

“Yeah,” Vinyl replied. “Why do they call it that?”

The scarred Vinyl shrugged. “Hell if I know - maybe it's cool sounding. Maybe there's a weird technobabbly reason. Maybe they got bored. Or got their hands on a hallucinogen - which, by the way, I'm totally jealous about. Haven't had a decent hallucinogen in… four years? The most mind-altering stuff we've got is a bunch of rotgut.”

“We haven't had many either,” Vinyl sighed. “Can I… Can I call you Scratch? It's not because of the scar, it's just…”

“Because this is super confusing as all hell and we're probably both hungover?” ‘Scratch’ finished with a wry smirk. “Sure. There are worse things.”

“I'm afraid to ask what,” Vinyl sighed.

“Good,” Scratch said. “That means you're not stupid. It'd be really embarrassing if you were.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that was a bit pissier than I wanted it to be… I just… this whole thing's kinda weird.”

“What, you mean meeting alternate versions of yourself from a world that got so much worse? What's weird about that?” Vinyl asked sarcastically. “Seriously, though, we at the PHL deal with mind-blowing weirdness all the time.”

“Yeah…” Scratch said, sighing. “Rather have weird than…l She trailed off. Her left hoof absently came up and scratched at her scars. She chuckled half-heartedly. “Rather have that than horrible.”

Vinyl frowned. “Dare I ask…?”

Scratch looked her in the eye. “What, you mean…” She chuckled. “You wanna know how I got these scars?”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “Really. Really?”

Scratch chuckled. “Well, see…”

“No,” Vinyl said. “No Daddy anecdotes, no mobsters, and no Hans Zimmer.”

Scratch laughed. “But I've been working on my Heath impression for years, and I did this bitchin' remix of 'Is She With You' the other week.” She sobered slightly. “Seriously - nobody ever asks. Most people know. Kinda a novelty.”

“It was a decent impression,” Vinyl admitted.

Scratch twitched slightly, a grin on her face, and she leaned in close.

“Who says I'm acting?” she asked. “Maybe I'm really this crazy.”

She burst out laughing, ruining the illusion immediately.

“Anyway,” she said. “Maybe I'll tell you about it later. You want to talk anything specific?”

Okay, Vinyl, here we go, Vinyl thought.

“Only what's been on everyone PHL's mind in the past couple days,” she said. “Elliot. I'm just… pretty curious about him, honestly.”

Scratch's smile faded slightly. “I ain't the best pony to ask. I met him a coupla times before the whole 'Avatar' thing, but mostly I've met him since, which means I don’t know him very well at all. Lyra would…” She trailed off, frowning slightly. “But then, she's not here and she's a little touchy on that one… so ask what you can.”

“Just wanted to know what the deal was, really,” Vinyl asked, smiling. She didn't really feel altogether comfortable even being slightly misleading, but it was for a good cause. There were now worse things than the Tyrant, and one of them - something that could be one of them was standing with them.

“‘The deal’?” Scratch asked. “How d'you mean?”

“Just… tell me about what he's done,” Vinyl shrugged. “Most of it'll probably be full of rumors later, and you've been around for a lot of it, so…”

Scratch nodded. “K. What have you heard already?”

“Well, I saw him in Boston,” Vinyl said. “Well… I saw part of it. I heard that he's immune to potion -”

“That’s true.”

“That he can summon golden armor, that he can fly, heal people…”

"Silver armour," Scratch corrected. "And the flying and healing people thing? That's a new one on us. Think he pulled those out while he was in your world, first time he’s used them. Fighting a clone of Celestia's… probably up there with Cornwall."

"Cornwall?" Vinyl asked.

"Yeah," Scratch said. "He blasted most of an invading army away by himself. Way I heard Eric tell it, that's also how the Knights of Albion started.”

“How'd he do that?!” Vinyl gasped.

“The hurricane or the Knights?” Scratch asked. “Either way, fucked if I know. Eric told some story about picking up Excalibur and then the Avatar knighting him for being 'worthy'. The hurricane… was kinda more showy.”

“He does tend to be dramatic,” Vinyl said. “Funny. Our David Elliot's so… unassuming.” She paused, her brow furrowing in a frown. “Or he was. I still…”

Scratch put a hoof on her shoulder. “We’ve all lost people.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said. “Still - he never seemed like the kind of guy who’d be showy.”

“David Elliot is unassuming,” Scratch said with a smirk. “Have you actually spoken to the guy, much? Did you know yours well?”

“Not all that often,” Vinyl said. “He's just… when some of your friends are a half-crystallized genderfluid unicorn made from the souls of crystal ponies and human memories, a psychotic afrikaner, a German knight, a colonel with magic tattoos who's apparently descended from a woman that visited Equestria, a pegasus that turns invisible for laughs, and a giant stallion, well…”

“A guy who wanted to run a bookshop is pretty boring by comparison?” Scratch guessed.

“Kind of. Yeah,” Vinyl said.

“I think he would prefer that,” Scratch said softly. “Hell, I could see him and Lyra shacking up in a bookshop for their retirement -” She paused, her eyes widening. “Ah shit - you didn't hear that.”

“Well, it's nothing out of the ordinary where I’m from,” Vinyl said. “I mean, Aegis and Kraber-”

“And I certainly didn't hear that,” Scratch added. “Look - I don't care how things are where you're from, it is weird here. The kind of weird that people don't always like, and yes, I mean don't always like as in ‘prejudice’.”

“Seriously?” Vinyl asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, from my perspective, your world’s sudden spate of xenophilia is weird. Chalk it up to parallel universes,” Scratch shrugged. “‘Sides, Lyra would totally kill me if I told anypony about…” She sighed. “Just… you didn't. Hear. That. Kay?”

“Alright,” Vinyl said. “It'll be like none of it ever - what were we talking about?”

“You were asking about Elliot,” Scratch said, looking relieved to be off the previous subject.

“Oh yeah,” Vinyl said. She frowned. “That's one thing I don't get - those Knights of Albion, or whatever they're called.”

“What about 'em?”

“What's the deal with the kneeling?”

Scratch raised an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean 'what's the deal with the kneeling'?”

“I mean, 'what's the deal with the fucking kneeling'?” Vinyl said. “It's… look, it was weird enough when thirty fucking Space Marines walked through the portal. To see 'em kneeling was…” She paused, trying to find the right word. “Kinda… scary.”

Scratch shrugged. “They do it all the time. It's kinda their thing. 'Cult militant' and all.”

“He has cults?!”

“A cult,” Scratch corrected absently. “The others aren't about him. Though they do respect him.”

“But… isn't that… weird?” Vinyl asked.

“Well, what would you do if someone had that kind of power and he was probably the savior of the last free place in two universes?” Scratch asked. “People… and ponies… needed something to believe in again. There's only so long that playing happy techno on the radio cheers them up. What I wouldn't give for some Injustrial or Scattle...”

“I guess that makes sense,” Vinyl conceded. “It's a lot worse in your world, so…”

“So that belief gives people hope,” Scratch said, giving her counterpart a wry grin. “Hope’s probably a fragile commodity for you, but for us? You’re talking ‘take whatever sticks its ugly head high enough to look like a false hope, run with it, score a try with it, run around the pitch screaming blue murder and then hope to God it sticks around for the afterparty’!”

“Yeah, I get it,” Vinyl said quietly. Scary. He's their hope. So much is riding on him… what if he's not up to it?

“You ok?” Scratch asked.

“Yeah, just processing,” Vinyl replied. “It's… y’know, ‘whole ‘nother world, demigod with cults’, takes a bit to sink in.”

Scratch nodded. “I guess.”

‘I guess’. Jesus H Christ. She doesn’t get how weird it is, she really doesn’t.

Now, Vinyl had a sense of why she was here. As deceptively normal as people like David Elliot or these BDF people made themselves seem, there was… something. Like a madness. These people were standing on the edge of a cliff…

What would happen if… no, when… they fell?

“Doesn’t your world have anything like that?” Scratch asked.

Vinyl shifted uncomfortably. Truth be told, there was one thing that sounded familiar, but she didn’t want to discuss it. After all - she was one of those who believed in the Golden Lyre...

“Not really,” she said after a moment. “I mean, a couple of the big religions have gotten some seismic shifts, but other than that…”

Scratch nodded, apparently missing her counterpart’s discomfort. “I hear ya.” She looked around. “I’d better get goin’, anyway. Got a meeting with the Council in a bit, don’t wanna be late.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said. “Hey, thanks, though.”

“Any time,” Scratch replied, and then she walked off.

Well, Vinyl thought, that was easy. Now to ask some other people.

***

Deep in the Archives.

Further in the archives was a laboratory full of experimental gear, accessible only through a series of corridors, access hatches and other, similar passageways. Elliot found himself wondering just what sort of things were being worked on down here, what secret projects had been hidden down here, out of sight of the rest of the British Isles.

“Used to be just a bunch of generic stuff down here,” the red-headed Doctor said chirpily. “You know we had the original PEV they used to model the Paladin I down here?”

“Really?” Elliot said, sounding perhaps less interested than that particular bit of historical information than it strictly warranted.

“Yup,” the Doctor said with a smile. “When I was down here, back in the day, we had that and the first three Paladin I suits all stored down here. I remember, there was such a jump from PEV to Paladin I that one of the people I was working with said it felt like… oh, what did he say? ‘Leaping from muzzle-loader to M1 Garand’.”

“Right,” Elliot said with a frown. “So… what’s this surprise?”

“Right, sorry,” the Doctor said, before they approached a final doorway. The Doctor inputted a code, and the door hissed open, allowing the two men to enter.

There were various men, women, stallions and mares working on various suits of armour, all of them dressed in labcoats and looking various shades of harried. There was the PEV set the Doctor had mentioned - a bulky set of armour with an Armacham symbol stamped on it, clearly based on the suits worn by other ATC forces (and modelled by the Reavers, Elliot noted with a raised eyebrow), but bulkier. There were also a pair of Paladin I suits, one in various states of dismantlement, the other pristine (or as pristine as Paladin armour could get). There was also another suit of Paladin armour, this one similar to the Paladin I, but sleeker in places, more refined.

“Paladin IV?” Elliot guessed.

“Right on the money,” one of the scientists said. “Still haven’t quite worked out how to make it perfect for regular joes instead of just Clads - there’s something about the actual power of the powered section that makes it tricky, but the parts are interchangeable with Paladin I, so we can replace bits here and there, and it’s a much more efficient bit of kit overall. We’ll be able to start phasing the old I’s out soon.”

“Remarkable work,” Elliot congratulated, smiling at the impassive looking suit. “Considering it’s only been a few months since you started mass producing Paladin…”

“We’ve had these suits for years,” the scientist said, pointing at the disassembled Paladin I. “We could mass produce them, once the materials came through, very easily. But we already had drawing board designs for improvements. Just needed to run them through the wringer.”

Elliot glanced at the Doctor, who was standing by another display case. “I take it this isn’t what you wanted to show me, Doc?”

“Don’t call me ‘Doc’,” the Doctor said with a good natured snort. “And no. This is what I wanted to show you.”

Elliot walked over to him, and frowned at the suit of armour he saw in the display case.

It was sleek, a black undersuit layered with thin black plates, all looking as though it was designed for maximum mobility and freedom of movement.

“Driver armour,” the Doctor said with a small smile. “Nanotechnological suit - the whole thing is uber light and flexible, and with the nanotech laced through from the plates to the bodysuit, it’s designed to repair itself in the event of catastrophic damage. You’re looking at the most advanced bit of kit on either world.”

Elliot blinked, frowning at it. “Why don’t we have all our people wearing it?”

“Same reason we didn’t make the Iron Clads until now,” one of the scientists put in. “Only just got the resources together. These things are excessively resource intensive.”

“Plus there's a case of it being less effective in some ways,” another scientist added. “It's not got the power-boost of a set of Paladin, for example, it's just built for protection and self-repair.”

“As it is,” the first scientist said, “we've only got maybe a handful of suits, one for Operative Gleeson, some for the GG3…”

“And… this suit’s for me?” Elliot asked, looking at the Doctor.

He nodded. “Designed for you. We had some final touches we wanted to add, both functionally and cosmetically, but it should be ready for your return to the other Earth.”

Elliot sighed. “Just… don't make it too ridiculous, ok?”

“I promise nothing,” the Doctor grinned.

“You know,” Elliot said tiredly, “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.” He sighed. “Well, I’d better go big the Council for more troops. Here's hoping I can convince them.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to,” the Doctor reassured him.

“I have to,” Elliot replied quietly. “If I don’t, then we’ll have a hell of a time in Boston.”

The Gainax Ending

ChapTer Seven17en00000000000000: Th3 C1+<|5 B|_|R5+.

WrittenTranscribed by:

D0ct0r Fl|_|ffy,

Je -

***

No.

Whatever you think was supposed to happen, it will not.

Whatever you believe was meant to be, it is undone.

For too long these conflicts, measured by worlds and armies and mortals have continued. For too long have the guilty laid unpunished.

Now it ends.

Now I begin my revenge. The revenge of a people wronged, the revenge of a world ravaged. This war - this war fought a billion times a billion ways, between gods and monsters, mortals and tyrants, ends.

And this time there will be no remorse, no mercy, no forgiveness. This time it ends in fire, and blood, and I will stand upon the ashes as I have a thousand times a thousand times.

I am the embodiment of the end.

The final judgement is about to pass.

The battle of battles is about to come.

So let it be written. So let it be done.

…

... is he done? Is he gone?

Are you still there?

Ah. Good.

Hello.

I know what you’re thinking.

You’re thinking, what has happened?

What has he done?

I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. As slow a process as it is, the end - long foretold, and long awaited - has finally begun.

Don’t worry. I saved some of them. A very small number, but it was all I could do to not be found. If he finds me, my dear brother, then there’s no choice, and I’m not ready for the last battle.

Not yet, anyway.

I sent them somewhere familiar. Sort of. It was the best I could do for them.

I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.

I’m sorry I couldn’t keep him at bay any longer.

I know it doesn’t make sense. But it wasn’t the first time he’s done this: it wasn’t the first time his influence has been felt. You’ve seen it before, right? The tales you’re following suddenly stopping?

It was him. His power’s grown. This war has fed him, fed his lust for power, his desire for his vengeance - though I don’t even know if he remembers what he was angry at anymore.

I know. You still don’t understand. That’s good, though. If you really understood it would already be time, and it can’t be time yet.

The battle of battles…

You’ll understand one day. Not now, but soon. Soon enough, anyway. I promise.

We’ll meet again. Perhaps we already have.

This will all be over sooner than you think.

For in all things, as there is a beginning, so there is an end…

Remember you soon.

Author's Note

So, uh... that happened.

I know how confused you probably are. I would be too. And I'm sorry for that. But trust me, we'd all be sorrier if I tried to write more Convergence. The reason for this is... more of Convergence would have to be in the classicsverse, and I really don't want to do that. It'd require writing more Marcus, more PHL, more characters and factions who just feel like they're broken on a fundamental level.

Jed and I... well, we've bad memories of writing the classicsverse, so we'll be rebooting Convergence from here. Much like older Spectrum work - Starvation, the Asia story, Light Despondent, maybe even Calm Before The Storm - this too is receiving a reboot.

We hope you like it! But this is the end of Convergence in its current state. We just can't make more of it, but we hope you like what we do instead.

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: The Clouds Burst

Author's Note

Author notes commencing!

So, Convergence died a horrible death, strangled right as we were getting to the Good Bits. ~Jed

Specifically, it was me. I did it. I killed it because I couldn't stand looking at what it was turning into - a glorified beatdown between AoA and Spectrum as Red tried to nerf everything into the ground.. ~Fluffy

But Y’know what? You guys deserve to see what we had up our sleeves. So these incomplete chapters and segments, with some linking narration text, will be posted to show what could have been for the Convergence Series.

We hope you enjoy what exists of these chapters - Seventeen can be posted alone as much of it exists, however the rest of the series will be posted in bulk in about three chapters of this “bonus” material.

Cheers, all :-)
~Jed

So, remember the time I added the last complete chapter of Light to the older version of the story? This is much the same. I'm still blown away by the positive feedback this story got, update after update, and I have to say: Thank you. While Jed and I had to suffer through Red being a fokkin' kontgesig, you're victims as much as any of us. You had to deal with anywhere from weeks to months of delays, then a period where I frantically worked on chapters of Light so I could get my vision out before Spectrum collapsed. You had to deal with the uncertainty of not knowing what would happen to what should have been a weird, wonderful story with two of the best - well, at this point, one of the best, my feelings towards classic spectrum are well-known by now - stories meeting.

So you deserve more. You deserve to know what we had in the works. You. Deserve. Better.

And that's how you get this. Right here. And now.
~Fluffy

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: The Clouds Burst

Chapter Seventeen: The Clouds Burst.

Written by:

Doctor Fluffy,

Jed R,

RoyalPsycho,

Editors

The Void.

***

“You will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun.”
Jor-El, Man of Steel.

“Ever has it been that the Space Marines are too few to conquer every threat. Yet the truth of our existence and the hope of our intervention steels the hearts of lesser warriors and lends strength to their conviction.”
Chaplain Ortan Cassius, Warhammer 40,000: Catechism of Hate.

***

Council and Elliot meeting

Council Chamber, March 4th, 2030, ‘Avatar’ Earth.

It had taken a day for the Council to manage to find a space for Elliot to come speak with them, a day he had to admit to begrudging them. After all: there was a lot that still needed doing. Assuming they approved his request, he would still need to assemble those forces, picking the best possible units for the mission at hand, and then deploy them to the appropriate locations…

“Brigadier,” the secretary, a dull-looking man in a ratty suit, said, cutting off Elliot’s train of thought. “The Council is prepared to speak with you now.”

Elliot nodded. He liked to think he at least looked more presentable - he'd tidied up his coat as best he could, made sure his shirt was pressed. Hell, he probably looked the least ratty of any soldier in the compound.

Hiroto Sato had neglected to wear a tie, for perhaps the first time in Elliot’s memory. His jacket and trousers were even scruffier than normal. Anderson, meanwhile, had dishevelled stubble. He looked as though he had been through a wringer. Even the normally unflappable Cheerilee, currently taking the place of Prince Blueblood, looked tired out. As Elliot walked in, it seemed the Council were still continuing their previous discussion.

“For the last time,” she said to Anderson, her voice deadly even, “you can’t seriously be working under the assumption that we’ll need that contingency.”

“It’s a contingency,” Anderson retorted. “You don't always need it, you don't have to use it, so long as you have it if you ever do need it!”

“A contingency with unfortunate ramifications,” Sato said quietly. “While I agree we cannot afford to ignore the possibility, as Representative Cheerilee has done -”

“Talking about this is counterproductive!” Cheerilee snapped. “We devote energy to this, that's energy we’re not devoting to the actual fight!”

“You don't get to make unilateral decisions like that, Representative,” Anderson said coldly.

Cheerilee sighed. “I can't believe the Undead went over my head like this…” Her eyes alighted on Elliot. “Oh. Hello, Brigadier.”

“Representative,” Elliot replied neutrally. “Apologies, Councilors, am I interrupting something?”

“Nothing important,” Cheerilee said smoothly. She shared a glance with Anderson and Sato. “We were discussing a… hypothetical, nothing more.”

Anderson scowled. “‘Hypothetical’, right.”

“What can we do for you, Brigadier?” Sato asked, folding his arms. The man’s tone was surprisingly impatient, and Elliot paused for a moment.

“Did you get the latest report from Operative Heartstrings?” he asked. “About -”

“About the storm-front approaching Boston on the other Earth that you and their Cheerilee both suspect to be hiding an assault force?” Cheerilee cut in. “Yes, we did, but we’ve not had enough time to discuss it in depth - we've had several issues of our own to contend with.”

Elliot frowned. “Solaminan activity?”

“Unconfirmed,” Anderson said tiredly. “We've got that covered, though - tapped a unit to go in after Red Squadron reckons the area.”

“I see,” Elliot said slowly. “Well, then -”

“Why do they need more troops?” Anderson asked bluntly, forestalling any words from the Brigadier.

Elliot blinked at the question. “Excuse me, sir?”

“You heard me, Brigadier,” Anderson said sternly. “These people have more troops, more resources, more weapons and more defences than us. I've looked over their stats, and apart from being wildly inconsistent at times it seems they're in remarkably good shape given their situation. At this point, we've already sent more people than I’m willing to risk to that world. Now you're asking for more?”

Elliot frowned, shifting his stance slightly. “Sir, with all due respect. They might be in possession of more troops than us, but against the enemy that they're about to be attacked by -”

“We aren't exactly in clear waters over here, Brigadier,” Anderson countered. “That unconfirmed Solaminan activity might, in itself, be a prelude to something new from her on the horizon. I want us to be prepared for that.”

“I understand that, sir,” Elliot said quietly. “I hope you understand that we need these people - now that we’ve entered into a state of war with their enemy -”

“I'm aware of the tactical ramifications, Brigadier,” Anderson snapped. “I'm also aware of our own tactical situation - which you might not be, having been on another world, enjoying their upholstery.”

Elliot stiffened. “Sir, these people are signatories of the Exodus Convention.”

“Sure they are,” Anderson said. “And we’ll help them. But nowhere in the Exodus Convention does it say that we have to send help to a numerically and technologically superior ally at the expense of our own defences.”

Elliot sighed. “I understand your position, sir, but with respect, there is a certain…” He paused, considering his words. “There is a certain moral obligation to consider.”

“A moral obligation,” Anderson repeated.

“We promised to help them, sir,” Elliot said quietly. “We made them a promise, that we would stand with them when they needed us, and right now, I am convinced that they need us.”

“Are you?” Anderson asked, sounding unconvinced.

“If for no other reason than the morale boost that being visibly not alone in this fight would give them, sir,” Elliot replied with a nod.

Anderson rubbed his eyes with his hand, looking almost exasperated. “And you think this… this moral duty, as you describe it, should supersede our tactical position?”

“With respect, sir,” Elliot said smoothly, “the BDF was founded on a promise of honouring morals over tactical positions.”

Anderson moved his hand and gave Elliot a flat look.

“The Exodus Convention is a promise to never do undue damage to Equestrian, because our allies and friends are fighting to reclaim their home, not burn it,” Elliot said with a small smile. “Tactically, it puts us at a disadvantage. We could have unleashed biological weapons, chemical attacks, ordered real terror tactics. We could have made the people of Solamina’s Empire live in as much fear as we do. But we didn't - we took a moral stand. We made a promise.”

***

Errant Flight and Elliot talk - Council takes recess.

***

Cheerilee speaking with Marcus (briefly) via vidcom. Basic gist - Downtime’s forces not ready yet.

Cheerilee’s Office, New York, November 25th, 2030, ‘Spectrum’ Earth.

Cheerilee sighed. The video monitor in her office displayed nothing but static, despite the best assurances Doctor Whooves could give her. She ended the call and tried dialling again.

A moment passed, and then - finally - Marcus Renee’s face popped into existence on the monitor.

the basic gist of this scene was this: Cheerilee warns that attack might be closer than everyone thinks. Marcus is worried - stuff is progressing on schedule, so nobody’s really ready yet, but he’ll get as many people as he can together.

***

Council and Elliot meeting, part Deux

In this scene, the Council would have agreed to send troops, albeit reluctantly

***

Beginning of the final battle - Celestia gives the order to GO.

Queen Celestia orders her attack to commence, after which we get the following scene

***

Boston. PHL Checkpoint Alpha. ‘Spectrum’ Earth.

“What’s the sitrep?!” Lieutenant Kellman called as he jogged towards the defensive position, where a mare was checking her readouts with confusion evident on her face.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what I’m seeing,” Silent Step replied, eyes wide. “Couldn’t be what it looks like…”

“Well what does it fucking look like?!” Kellman yelled.

The sound of heavy clumping footfalls near them made Kellman turn, and he found himself face to face with an Iron Clad in Paladin II armour - the number 001 made it clear that this was Eric. While the Knight of Albion had no formal rank - or at least, no formal rank that Kellman had ever been told - the way the BDF contingent seemed to treat him implied a high position.

“What is the situation?” he asked calmly, his voice tinged by the effect of the helmet.

“The situation is that there’s some sort of massive thaumic event occurring,” Silent Step said with a frown. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, not even when the fucking Queen bitch was here…”

“Thaumic?” Eric asked, even as the Lieutenant’s face paled.

“This could be it,” Kellman said, his shoulders slumping. “God dammit, this could really be it. The attack.”

“Your Tyrant?” Eric asked, his tone impassive.

“Yes!” Kellman snapped. “Christ, you could sound like you give a shit!”

“Oh, I do,” Eric said. He tapped his helmet. “Iron One to all units. We are on. Report back immediately.”

A host of radio calls began coming in, and Eric began walking away from Kellman and Step.

“Where the hell are you going?!” the Lieutenant yelled.

“With respect, Lieutenant Kellman,” Eric replied quietly, “I am going to go into battle. It would be best for you not to hinder me.”

***

quick scene - Bowman interrupts the Council meeting - Boston is under attack!

***

Checkpoint Delta, Boston, ‘Spectrum’ Earth.
Sam Lake was busy checking his rifle, feeling slightly absurd for the stripes on his arm. He didn’t like being a Sergeant - that was Dave’s job, that was Dave’s place in their team. He didn’t have the right to it.
But Dave’s gone, he thought to himself, halfway between harshness and misery. There’s only me – and that… that thing that took his place.
He didn’t have a choice but to keep going on, despite the pain of his loss. It was what his friend would have wanted - and as he knew from the other David Elliot, it was what his friend would have done, however hard it was, however much it hurt.
Checkpoint Delta, despite being one of the more important positions in Boston, was only lightly manned by Sam, Steady Hoof and Errant Flight. With Elise dead, David gone and John off doing whatever with that pony version of himself from the other world, Sam had been left with a truncated squad and no way to requisition replacement troops in the current crisis. There wasn’t even another squad assigned to the Checkpoint at this moment in time – a second squad was normally supposed to be there to assist, but they’d gone off-shift about half an hour ago and the replacements hadn’t arrived yet. True Grit had gone to see where they’d gotten to. Hopefully, he’d be back soon. Sam was starting to miss having the reliable Unicorn around.

He heard the sound of galloping hooves and frowned, looking up. To his surprise,True Grit was there, jogging over to him. He looked almost out of breath, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a sudden chill go down his spine – True Grit never hurried, not unless he really had to.
Which meant…
“What is it?” he asked, as Grit took a breath. “Jesus, where did you run from?”
“All the way from Checkpoint Sigma,” Grit replied, catching his breath. “Is your fucking radio out or something?”
Sam frowned. “No – couldn’t you get through?”
“Must be interference,” True Grit said, shaking his head. “We just got a comm from HQ – massive thaumic signature, bigger than anything we’ve ever seen.”
Sam could feel the blood draining from his face. “Oh, you have got to be shitting me. Now? But they’re -”
“Early, yeah, I know!” Grit snapped. “Look, we don’t have time to argue, we need to get the checkpoint set up, pronto!”
“Where’s the other squad?” Sam asked, frowning.
Grit looked frustrated. “We aren’t getting another squad! They can’t spare anyone!”
“They can’t seriously expect us to hold without a second squad! There’s only four of us!” Sam swore. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”
“Well, that’s what I said!” True Grit replied, sounding even more irritated than Sam did. “All they said was that Lieutenant Winston’s team had been reassigned to liaison duty and they hadn’t gotten the replacement team picked out yet!”
“Shit,” Sam swore. “Right, then I guess we’re on our own. Oi! Errant!”
Errant Flight, who had been loitering on a nearby roof, immediately flew down. “Sup, Sam?”
“We’re on!” Sam told him, frowning. Errant’s cocky grin disappeared, replaced by a look of absolute seriousness.
“Right,” he said. “Whaddya want me to do?”
“Start patrolling,” Sam ordered. “We need to be ready when that force gets inbound.”
“Gotcha,” Errant said. He paused. “We do this one for Dave.”
“For Dave,” Sam agreed. As Errant took off and headed for the sky, Sam silently made a promise.
Today’s for you, mate, he thought. Every single one of those bastards I kill, I’m killing for you. You’re getting vengeance double-time.
***

Checkpoint Foxtrot

“Did you hear that?” Gregson said, looking to Hart with wide eyes. “Eric said we’re on!”

“What does that mean?” Hart asked.

“It means,” Idle said, growling as he grabbed his helmet, “that this world’s Tyrant just made her move. Get your damn helmets on. GG3 will have to be deployed ASAP.”

He stood up and walked over to the three girls. Sonata looked up first, then Aria and Adagio.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” the leader of the GG3 asked quietly, sounding entirely unhappy with the situation.

“Yup,” Idle said without preamble. “Come on ladies, get yourselves ready. We’ve got some fighting to do.”

Adagio sighed. “Right. Great.”

“Or I could just shoot you now,” Idle added with a smirk.

“We’re going, we’re going,” Adagio grumbled. “No need to get threatening.”

“Threatening?” Idle asked, the man’s smile turning almost unpleasant. “You’ve not seen me ‘threatening’ yet, love. Pray you don’t ever have to.”

***

The first sign that something was wrong was the premature darkening of the sky, the slow rumbling and thundering as something tore its way through reality.

And then the portals opened - larger ones spewing airships full of potion bombs, smaller ones on the ground vomiting forth hordes of Newfoals, laughing and grinning as they charged into battle.

The battle of Boston had finally resumed.

***

Commentary: This entire chapter was going to be a big, fun buildup right before the (absolutely massive!) battle of Boston began! Note, however, that we don’t use the term “final” battle. I wonder why…

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Eighteen and Nineteen

Author's Note

AN: Here begins what exists of Chapters Eighteen and Nineteen of Convergence. ~Jed

AN Also: If you're wondering why it says BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE, I've linked you to this video! It's listed under "Education," so you know you'll learn a lot! ~Fluffy

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Eighteen and Nineteen

AN: Here begins what exists of Chapters Eighteen and Nineteen of Convergence

***

Chapter Eighteen: .

Written by:

Doctor Fluffy,

Jed R,

RoyalPsycho,

Editors

The Void.

***

- Battle in Boston - Queen Celestia launches an assault: a combination of Spectrum and Avatar forces engage the Queen's army. The Battle is inconclusive as Queen Celestia's forces withdraw to combat an invasion of Solaminan forces.

***
Checkpoint Delta.
Sam got off the radio. The interference that had blocked their comms was gone – which was about the only good news he had to relay to his team.

“We just got word in,” the blonde man said, grimly. “Massive force inbound. Newfoals by the degree of several fucking million - they’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Shit,” Errant Flight swore. “What about our reinforcements? Where are the Downtime force, or the BDF?”

“There’s been no sign,” True Grit said quietly, moving to support Steady Hoof’s P225. “Much as I hate to say it, we might be fighting this one without our cavalry for a while”

“Fuck the cavalry,” Sam said with a scowl. “We don’t need them. We’re the goddamn PHL! We’re the defenders of the human race!” He took up his PK470 and stood by the defences, brandishing the weapon angrily. “We’re gonna fucking take on every Newfoal and Guard bastard who takes on point Delta – and we’re gonna fuckin’ kill ‘em all!”

His team cheered – even Steady Hoof slammed his hooves into the ground angrily. Even as they heard the sound of thunderous hooves in the distance, coming towards them, they knew they’d do more than survive. They would hold!

***

Checkpoint Echo.

“Move it!” Eleanor yelled to the others. “Elise, Alex, get in line, Javelins up!”

She and ten of her fellow Clads were on the front line at a street.

“Are you kidding me?!” one of the local soldiers asked, eyes wide. “Are you guys seriously just gonna hold the fucking line?!”

“Yes,” Eleanor said with a growl, “we are. Clads! Javelins up!”

As one, the group of Iron Clads raised their Javelin rifles and aimed down the street.

“Fire until ten metres and then switch to close quarters!” Eleanor yelled, moving into position and raising her own Javelin rifle. “Remember, these things are likely to swamp you!”

“Brothers, sisters!” a familiar voice called, and Eleanor turned, grinning under her Paladin I helmet, as Sir Eric marched into view, his sword already drawn, modified Desert Eagle in his other hand. At least twenty other Clads, mostly Paladin I, were with him. “This is our hour! The enemy has come to take this city - all they will take from it is our ammunition through their skulls and the sharp edges of our blades through their hearts!”

“Aye!” the knights of Albion called.

“Move into position - form a second rank behind the first to help prevent them being swamped,” Eric ordered, taking up position next to Eleanor. Though she couldn't see his face, she could imagine the smile.

“You’ve been waiting for today, haven’t you?” she asked softly.

“I have been waiting for the moment where I prove my mettle,” he replied. “Perhaps that is today. Perhaps it is not. Either way, we shall see.”

He aimed his Desert Eagle down the road. Eleanor aimed her rifle as well, and they waited as a distant rumbling started.

***

Near Checkpoint Delta.

“Checkpoint Gamma is overrun!”

“There’s thousands of th -!”

“Pull back! PULL BACK!”

Lyra gritted her teeth as she galloped, her team with her. She had some of the best ponies in the Equestrian Resistance on hoof - Desert Wind and Sapphire Steel were both new recruits, Wind armed with the P220a, a recent upgrade on the old P220. Behind them were Iron Hammer, Tender Care and Mountain Tempest, all ponies who had served with crack teams in the past, as well as a young mare named Viola Heartswell who reminded Lyra a little of herself… before her injury, that was.

“This is Lyrium on the ground,” she said into her radio. “I have a team and we are moving towards the perimeter of Checkpoint Delta - report, now!”

“This is Corporal True Grit,” an all-too-familiar voice said. “Be great to have you here, Lyrium, shit’s about to go down - we have multiple targets inbound!”

“My lucky day,” Lyra muttered. “Aim to thin them up, I have Resistance ponies with me and we're gonna need them spaced out to work our skills.”

“Gotcha!” Grit said. “Don’t worry - we have some experts at thinning Newfoals out here.”

Lyra smirked. “I can believe it. There in two minutes, tops.”

“That’s not leaving a lot of leeway time,” Desert Wind pointed out as he galloped.

“I know,” Lyra said. “Try to keep up, Wind.”

And she pushed herself, her limbs moving like pistons, driving her onward, nanotechnological reintegration making her body move like a steam engine.

***

Checkpoint Echo.

“Contacts ahead!” one of the Clads yelled. “Multiple hostile inbound!”

He wasn’t wrong - Eric could see them coming, hundreds and hundreds of these accursed abomination-things, a worse crime upon the face of the Earth than even the Converted. These things, the puppets of Tirek, were a stain, a disease, and he and his soldiers were the cure.

“Warriors!” he yelled. “Fire on my mark! Give nothing, and take all! On our honour as knights, none shall pass! For Albion!”

“For Albion!” the warriors yelled in unison.

“First rank,” Eleanor said calmly. “Fire until you empty your clips. Second rank, fire when the first rank reloads. This way we will have a steady line of fire.”

There was a murmur of consent at Eleanor’s orders. Eric spun his sword and aimed his pistol, counting down the seconds until they were in range of the Javelins…

Three… they charged forward, every single one of them smiling that abominable grin.

Two… one or two tripped, and were immediately trampled, unheeded, by their fellows.

One… Pegasi leapt into the air, Unicorns charged spells…

“Fire!” he bellowed.

High-power rounds fired out of the Javelin rifles, tearing through the unarmoured horde like the proverbial tissue paper. The first rank fired and fired, while the second rank clearly looked like they were itching to begin firing as well.

“First rank reloading!” Eleanor yelled. The first rank stopped firing as their clips emptied, but immediately the second rank took up the slack, firing their own guns. Eleanor reloaded swiftly, moving her rifle back to aim at the enemy. They were now less than seventy metres from the Clads’ position.

“Second rank reloading!” another Knight yelled. Immediately the second rank began reloading, and the first rank resumed fire, tearing apart more of the creatures. Eric’s pistol fired a steady, semi automatic stream of bullets, the man picking his targets - a Pegasus here, a Unicorn who looked about ready to fire a spell there. He fired again and again, only stopping to reload his pistol. Fifty metres.

“First rank reloading!” came the cry, and the charge continued as more bullets tore the front ranks of ponies apart, their fellows charging forward regardless.

‘The Avatar was right,’ Eric thought with a grim sigh. ‘They are relentless. Fortunately, so are we.’

“Second rank reloading!” Thirty metres and still they came.

Eric snorted. He dropped the Desert Eagle and brought his sword up, activating his buckler at the same time. Twenty.

“Swords!” Eleanor yelled. As one, the Clads dropped their guns and drew their swords, activating the ‘Flaming Bastards’ and holding them ready, deploying their armour bucklers as well.

And then the tide struck.

***

Checkpoint Delta.
The charging horde was almost in weapons range now. Even at this distance… God they were terrifying. Not individually… but there were just so many - hundreds of them, if not thousands. Newfoals. He hated them - he hated that they thought they could come to Earth and just take and take and take…
“We have Lyrium inbound!” Grit said, getting off the radio. “We need to thin their ranks before she gets here!”
“We can do that,” Sam said. They were nearly in range, now…
Holy father, hear my prayer. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, For thou art with me. And I'm carrying a rifle full of hot lead, and I'm gonna empty the bastard at the first thing that comes at me.
“Fire!” he yelled. His PK470 roared as he squeezed the trigger, bullets slashing towards the Newfoals like the proverbial wrath of God. A moment later, the harsh bark of the P225 and the assault rifles of the rest of the team began sounding, bullets slamming into the zombified ponies.
And then a flash of turquoise magic incinerated one Newfoal as it charged him. Sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, Sam laughed.
Of all the ponies to come to their rescue, Lyra fucking Heartstrings was here, her team right behind her. More ponies were picked off by P220a and P225 fire, and a mare who looked like Viola Heartswell fired spell after spell in the direction of the horde, knocking them off their feet as they charged.
Heartstrings slammed into the barricade near Sam, grinning at him. He grinned back despite himself.
“Good to have you here, ma’am!” he said, firing at another Newfoal.
“Good to be here!” Lyra replied. “Now let’s make them wish they weren’t!”

***

***

- The Solaminan Empire begins preparing its force for its foray into the Spectrum Earth.

This was us setting up a three way conflict between the Solar and Solaminan empires and the human allied forces. It would have been glorious.

Imperial Airship ERAS Gloriana Regalia, March 1st, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030) - ‘Solaminan’ Equus.

A Guardspony mare named Cyan Cyclone took a breath, trying her best to calm her nerves as the rumble of the Zeppelin's engine drowned out all thought. Thought was not necessary - thought implied that she needed to think about anything, implied that there was uncertainty about her choices and path. Thought would not be necessary until she met the enemy - and then it would only be "how". "Why" was not a question. "For whom" was not a question. The only question was "how".

"How will I execute the will of my liege?"

"What is our purpose?!" a strong voice cried out.

Cyclone turned to regard her commanding officer, a stern-looking mare named Straight Course, whose imposing air was only heightened by the scar across her left eye, as well as her scowl. The armoured Pegasus that led her unit stood at the front of the passenger bay, perched atop the service stairs that led up to the bridge.

“To serve the Empress!” she replied to the commander, parroting her comrades around her. The words were so simple she had never had to think about them. They were the only true answer.

“Why do we serve?!” Course shouted.

“Because we must,” the reply echoed throughout the room. “Because it is what is right!”

“And what do we do to those who oppose her?!” the commander shouted once again, her voice thundering over the assembled Guardsponies.

“We destroy them!” The reply she and her comrades gave was even louder and more passionate. The very thought of anypony, anything, daring to oppose her Majesty made her blood boil with rage. Glancing at the ponies beside her, she saw they thought exactly the same thing.

A hundred pony warriors united in thought and deed, prepared to strike down any foe or infidel. This, Cyclone knew in her heart, was true harmony.

“Alright troops!” their commander said, addressing all of them. “This is what we know. We will be engaging another Equestria in combat actions today!”

There were brief murmurs of confusion - another Equestria? But that didn’t make any sense…

“Now settle your damn britches!” Course snapped. “I know, it’s confusing - but we have this information straight from top brass, High Commander Sparkle’s office itself! According to her, we are up against some sort of ‘dark mirror’ of our own Equestria: we don’t know what that means, but we should be prepared for ponies whose tactics are every bit as ruthless and precise as our own!”

“What I can tell you for certain is this!” Course continued grimly. “We will be part of a special detachment, a fleet including the Blade, the Interception, and being lead by the Solar Glory, the Gloriana Regalia and the Sidera Somniata, all under the command of Marshall Creed! This is big, ponies! The Empress wants this by the book and buckup free!”

Cyclone exchanged glances with her colleagues.

“Now, this is a recon mission,” Course clarified for her troops. “Our job is to fly in, assess the enemy’s strengths, and fly out again. Minimal engagement probability.” She paused, then grinned. “In the event we encounter a hostile force, however, we are authorised to engage with extreme bucking prejudice!”

The pony soldiers cheered, and Cyclone joined them, grinning.

“We will also have a special guest for this operation,” Course added, looking at the back of the hangar. Cyclone, curious, turned her head, as did many of her colleagues, and she gasped.

A tall, slender mare trotted along the steel floor, looking dead ahead with a grim expression. Her name was scarlet, flowing from behind her with an unnatural, almost magical air, and her coat was a brilliant shade of deep amber. As she reached Course, she turned to face them all.

She was - and Cyclone could hardly believe this - an Alicorn. Neat wings were folded behind her, and a horn was prominent on her head. She wore silver plate armour, and girt at her side were two short swords.

“Greetings,” she said simply. “I am Cataphyra: the armour of Solamina. I am here to assist you in this mission and test my own abilities. It will be an honour working alongside brave soldiers of the Empire.”

She bowed her head regally. On impulse, most of the Pegasi around Cyclone did the same, and even Straight Course bowed her head.

“An Alicorn,” whispered one of Cyclone’s comrades from next to her. “A new princess, like Princess Cadenza?”

“She didn’t introduce herself as one,” another whispered.

Course stomped a hoof, and the entire group of Guards fell silent.

“That’s enough!” the officer snapped. “No gossiping here, what are you?! A bunch of namby pamby gossip-mares?! You’re showing the unit up.”

Cataphyra smiled contently. “Fear not, Commander Course. I understand your soldiers’ confusion.” She raised her head slightly to address the ponies. “I am ascended - a blessing of our good Empress for these times of war. Once, I was like you.”

Cyclone’s eyes widened - the Empress could bring ascension? Such a thing was unheard of…

... except for a Goddess.

“If you prove truly worthy,” Cataphyra added with a smile, “you, too, may ascend as I have.”

A fresh batch of murmurs broke out at that, and Course stomped her hoof again.

“Alright, that’s enough, I said!” she snapped. “I don’t know about ascending - the chances of any of you plotheads getting there is next to squat in my mind, unless you pull your heads out of your rectums and get to it!”

At once, the troops stood to attention, if anything more sharp and more eager than before. Cyclone grinned: she didn’t know about any of the others, but she was determined that she would prove herself worthy. She, too, would ascend.

***

Checkpoint Foxtrot

Idle checked his soundproofing gear. His HUD reported all was in top condition, and he smirked.

“Hart, Gregson, ready?!” he asked.

“Ready!” Hart said.

“Set, boss!” Gregson added.

“Ladies!” Idle said to the GG3, who had set themselves up, their helmets designed to project their voices. “You’re on!”

“R-right,” Adagio said. “You’ll have to give us a moment to warm up.”

Idle scowled, and turned to look down the street as he felt a slow rumbling. He frowned - he could see shapes beginning to turn the corner, and then there they were - a whole horde of ponies… and him and his team the only damn Clads in this sector.

“You don’t have it,” he said grimly. “Clads, covering fire!”

He brought his Hellfire gun up and began firing, the heavy weapon tearing chunks out of the oncoming horde. Hart had a Javelin rifle, and was firing and reloading faster than anyone who had tested the Javelin would likely have guessed. Gregson, meanwhile, had set up a Thunderbolt R/MPG, and was firing carefully targeted rockets into the enemy’s ranks.

With their soundproofing gear active, the sound was massively muted - the better to keep the GG3 out of their heads, which was just what Idle preferred. The low thumps and vibrations of the impacts of rockets and the barking of heavy weapons sounded dulled and far away.

He threw a glance at the GG3, and Adagio, a grim expression on her face, nodded.

And then, though he couldn’t hear it, he knew she had begun to sing...

***

Checkpoint Alpha.

Kellman scowled as he heard the reports coming in from their Checkpoints across the city.

“This is Kraber at Checkpoint Bravo! Multiple hostiles are charging us! These fokkers aren’t gonna know what hit them!” There was a pause. “Although…”

“Checkpoint Echo to Checkpoint Alpha - the Iron Clads are holding for now but we need immediate reinforcements!”

“Checkpoint Delta - this is Desert Wind, Lyrium team - we’re holding, but there’s a lot of these buckers. Any word on reinforcements?!”

“The same call is going out from all our positions,” Silent Step said quietly. “What do I tell them?”

Kellman sighed - he hated being left in charge at a time like this. Checkpoint Alpha was the forward base, but he had only expected to be in charge a short time while Cheerilee was gone - he hadn’t expected the attack to fall while he was here!

“Tell them…” he began but suddenly there was a flash of light.

The figures of Discord, Marcus, Stephan, Trixie and Cheerilee were there, though the bright red letter Q on Discord’s chest differentiated him as DisQord. The Draconequus grinned.

“There,” he said. “Back in a flash, just like I said.”

“Lieutenant!” Cheerilee said. “Report!”

“The attack’s begun!” Kellman said quickly, trying not to be too taken aback by the sudden appearance of half his immediate superiors. “There must be millions of Newfoals out there!”

“Shit,” Marcus swore. “Q, can you get us where we’re needed?”

“Where’s the worst hit?” the Draconequus asked, suddenly all business.

“Er…” Kellman said, looking to Silent Step.

“Checkpoints Delta, Echo and Bravo are under attack,” she said at once. “We’ve also got reports that the GG3 are being deployed at Checkpoint Foxtrot.”

“They’ll be able to sow confusion for the moment,” DisQord said. “Alright, ladies and mares, you’re going to Checkpoint Delta.”

“Any particular reason?” Stephan asked.

“No,” DisQord said with a smirk. “I just like the sound.”

He snapped a claw and the others disappeared, and he grinned.

“What about you?!” Kellman asked, eyes wide at the display. The man was feeling utterly confused.

“Who, me?” the Draconequus asked. “I’ve got more stops to make.”

He snapped his claw, and was gone.

***

He goes to AOAverse where Elliot was convincing the Council to let them have forces - they agreed, and Elliot, Sunset Shimmer, dozens of Iron Clads, Dead Men and Errant Flight and three squadrons of ERAF are sent to help.

***

Elliot rolled his shoulders, the power slowly filling his body. This Driver armour stuff was surprisingly light, and contrary to what he had been expecting it didn't feel like it was hindering him at all.

Behind him was enough of a force to be considered reasonable impressive - three squadrons of ERAF, including Errant Flight, leading the newly reformed Grey Squadron, as well as dozens of Iron Clads, Elite Operative Gleeson, four hundred Dead Men and another four hundred BDF and Resistance troops, armed with the best weapons that could be pulled at short notice.

“Company ready to depart,” Gleeson said quietly, her long red hair tied back into a ponytail.

“When the portal opens,” he said to his men, “we might be thrown straight into it. ERAF, concentrate on Pegasi - keep the skies clear and ours. They won’t be used to your tactics, so use that to your advantage.”

“We know what we’re doing,” Errant said, looking prouder than Elliot had seen him in years, the Grey Squadron uniform definitely suiting him better than Red Squadron had.

“Iron Clads,” Elliot continued. “Close Quarters protocol - we need to wade in and hold up those Newfoals.”

“Understood,” one of the Clads said evenly from behind his helmet. “We’re ready, Commander.”

“Dead Men, shore up defensive perimeters - I don’t want anything getting past us,” Elliot said, turning to the gas-masked Undead and his men. “We need to hold the line. Boston is the focal point - it falls, everything falls.”

“We have purpose, sir,” the Undead replied.

“Too fokkin’ right we do,” one of his men added, and there was a shout of agreement. Elliot grinned.

“Infantry,” he added. “When we land we’ll likely be deposited at the biggest combat zone as per DisQord’s mandate. Your job will be to distribute to other zones and reinforce them, clear?”

“Clear sir,” Iron Gait, one of the lead ponies, said with a stern nod. “You hear that, buckers?! We’ve got some marching to do!”

“Sir, yes sir!” the ponies yelled.

Elliot grinned again, before turning to face the sudden light of an opening portal.

A moment later, the swirling mass of blue energy appeared, and the face of Discord - DisQord, the Q giving him away - appeared.

“Well?” he said. “Are you waiting for a written invitation?!”

***

Canon Equestria’s forces begin their move - Celly and Luna as part of the first wave.

***

Hell Blazer and Constantine are retrieved from the HTC by DisQord.

***

Checkpoint Delta
Sam growled as he reloaded. He was running low on ammunition, and he wasn’t the only one.
“Gun’s exhausted!” Desert Wind yelled from the defensive position. Sapphire Steel had already begun firing spells off to compensate for the lack of firepower, but even as skilled as she was she was no substitute for the rate of fire the minigun could have managed.
“We can’t hold forever!” Sam yelled over to Lyra. The mare threw the man a look, a scowl on her face.
“Start preparing to pull back,” she said reluctantly. Like anyone from the Avatar Earth, she hated the idea of pulling back - every inch of ground given was one nigh-on-impossible to get back - but in this instance she didn’t have a choice.
“Yeah, how about no?” a new voice called.
Suddenly, a fireball lashed out, smashing into a bunch of Newfoals and obliterating them, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. From the shadows stepped a man with a battered trenchcoat, short blonde hair spiked up, a winning grin and a cigarette lit and smoking in one hand, a fireball forming in the other.
“‘Ello guys,” he said to Sam and Lyra. “John Constantine. Master of the Dark Arts.”

He threw the fireball forming in his hands, and it bounced off a wall before incinerating five more Newfoals, though it also narrowly missed Sam’s head. The blonde man threw his friend a glare.
“Well,” Constantine said. “Dabbler in the Dark Arts anyway.”
“Need a hand?” a new voice asked.
Suddenly an armoured figure barrelled into the Newfoals, a glowing claymore sweeping in a wide arc as he slashed through something like a dozen of the creatures. Another man, crop haired and wearing simple fatigues, was firing a pistol into them, apparently unconcerned by the numbers. Even as he did so, an Earth Pony charged forward, leaping into the air and landing with a shockwave of power that scattered a dozen Newfoals. Before she could be ganged up on by more, a half-dozen blades appeared from nowhere, cutting dozens of Newfoals apart, and a blue Unicorn materialised into view, grinning viciously.
“Well,” Desert Wind said, raising an eyebrow as he knocked one of the charging Newfoals down and crushed its skull. “This is becoming a bucking little army we’ve got here!”
Another fireball lashed out, and a yellow Earth Pony in a trenchcoat ran up to Lyra, slide kicking a Newfoal that was charging her in the process. Hell Blazer stood up, readying more fireballs as he did so.
“Lovely party!” he said with a grin. “This is like London all over again!”
“Except in London, we had less troops and smarter enemies,” Lyra retorted with a wry smirk.
“Maybe,” Hell Blazer said. “Try not to jump in front of any spells this time.”
“I’ll stick to shooting them,” Lyra replied.

***

Near Checkpoint Echo.

Elliot sniffed the air as they marched through the portal. The smell of blood and death, too familiar to the man by now, was on the air.

“Confirm our position,” he said to a pony named Silent Step. She nodded, getting on her radio.

“This is BDF relief force Avatar One,” she said, “calling PHL Checkpoint Alpha. Come in please.”

A moment later, the same voice sounded from Step’s radio. “This is PHL Checkpoint Alpha. Good to hear from you Avatar One.”

Step looked bemused to be hearing her own voice coming out of the radio, but Elliot ignored the bemusement. He grabbed the pony’s radio from her.

“This is Commander Albion,” he said crisply. “We need a confirmation on our position, now.”

“Checking,” the PHL Silent Step said. “Comsat has you about one hundred ten metres east of Checkpoint Echo - they’re under heavy attack by Newfoal forces.”

“Who’s there?” Elliot asked.

“The entire Iron Clad complement and four squads of infantry,” Step said.

Elliot turned to his Clad group. “Get moving.”

“Yes sir!” their leader yelled, before gesturing to his troops. Moments later, the entire group had set off full pelt down the street, and Elliot couldn’t help but find the whole thing amusing. Only a few months ago (from his perspective) the whole idea of even seeing one Iron Clad was downright silly - now there were a good few hundred running around.

“So,” Gleeson said, coming up next to him. “How do we wanna play this now?

“We’ve reports of a mass gathering of troops at Checkpoint Delta,” the PHL Silent Step reported.

“Then that’s where we’re headed next,” Elliot said, turning to Gleeson. “We’ll need your skills for this one.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smirk, holding up a glowing hand. “I’m ready.”

***

Checkpoint Echo.

Eric smashed another pony into the ground, scowling. He turned on his heel and slashed at another, before bearing another down with his buckler.

"Beasts!" he bellowed. "Why won't you die?!"

They were definitely... numerous. He saw one of his fellow Clads swamped by the things as they crushed him under their weight, and growled, throwing a Newfoal with one hand directly at the crowd of ponies and bowling them over before charging at them, pulling them off his soldier with his gauntleted hands.

“You abominations will not win this field!” he yelled. “I shall see you all slain!”

“Eric!” Eleanor yelled, cutting through a Newfoal as she spoke. “There’s too many of them - we can’t hold forever! We’ve already lost Harry and Daniel!”

Eric scowled beneath his helmet. “We may not hold forever, but we will hold for as long as we can!”

“Yes sir!” Eleanor yelled back without hesitation, returning her full attention to the fray. Eric also turned, grabbing a Newfoal by the throat, slashing at two more, before throwing the third through a collection of its comrades.

Suddenly a hail of bullets tore down the street, cutting dozens of Newfoals down. Eric turned, grinning as more Iron Clads appeared - what must have been dozens of them, likely the entire complement from the British Isles or more. They jogged up to him, many of them drawing swords as they ran, and they slammed into the oncoming horde. One or two brought their arms up, and bolts of arcane power lashed out - this was dangerous for them: they could do that, but it wasn’t generally advised.

The hell with ‘advised’, Eric decided, turning back to the battle and bringing his sword swinging in an arc, carving through two more Newfoals.

“Eric!” one of the new warriors said cheerily. “This is fun!”

“Indeed!” Eric replied with a slight grin. “I’m having the time of my life!”

“You two,” Eleanor commented, stepping back and punching a Newfoal to the ground, the thing’s head splitting from the impact, “are insane!”

***

“Alright,” Discord said, dusting off his hands. “They are well and truly bottlenecked, the odd stragling group aside.”

“I’d say ‘good’,” Stephan said grimly, “but that still leaves the problem of them coming this way, and now there’s more of them!”

The horde was barrelling down the street towards the group. Cheerilee tensed, and Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder. Next to them, Operative Heartstrings had already readied a spell. The firing line, Kraber and Aegis amongst them, was tense as well, and even the Iron Clad group looked less than sanguine.

“Well, Commander?” Elliot asked Marcus with a grin. “You wanna call it?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, before grinning as well. “Absolutely, Avatar.” He turned to the group. “Alright: we got two minutes so listen.”

“Listening,” Discord said, his ears growing.

Marcus sighed good naturedly. “Ok. Kraber, hold the firing line. Anything gets past our group, gun it to oblivion.”

“Gotcha,” Kraber said, throwing a salute.

Marcus turned to Discord. “Don’t waste your power wiping ‘em out. I want traps. Fragment that wave, make it easier to deal with them piecemeal.”

“Yes sir,” Discord grinned, before snapping a claw. A hail of baseballs suddenly shot towards the Newfoals, who suddenly found themselves navigating banana peels, spikey balls, big rocks and other obstacles that filled the already crowded streets.

Marcus turned to Stephan, Lyra, Trixie, Cheerilee and the Iron Clads. “We’re on close quarter duty. The fragmented line means they’ll get close enough to start hitting hard without overwhelming us. We need to use that. Ok?”

“Jawohl,” Stephan said with a grin.

“We’re with you, Marcus,” Cheerilee added.

“And me?” Elliot asked.

Marcus shrugged. “You’re the Avatar of Albion, right? Go hit things with your sword.”

Elliot laughed out loud. “It’ll be my genuine pleasure, Colonel.”

He held out a hand, and suddenly Excalibur materialised. A subtle glow surrounded Elliot, whose Driver armour whirred and buzzed, as suddenly the cloak turned from black to scarlet. Elliot began advancing towards the horde, who kept charging up the street. His sword crackled with energy, and suddenly he lashed out at the air with a single sweep. A whistling sound rang through the air, and the first thirty or so Newfoals simply dropped, blood spurting from fatal wounds, limbs falling off.

And then the Newfoals stopped.

Marcus blinked. “The hell?”

“They stopped?” Cheerilee said quietly. “But they never stop!”

Ahead of them, Elliot narrowed his eyes at the group of Newfoals.

***

Chapter Nineteen: .

Written by:

Doctor Fluffy,

Jed R,

RoyalPsycho,

Editors

The Void.

***

Elliot blinked as the mass of flesh slowly writhed and slithered down the street, absorbing Newfoals - both alive and dead - as it went.

“Ok,” he said slowly. “Who the fuck brought the blob?!”

“The what?” Eric asked quietly from next to him.

Elliot sighed. “Eric, you’re a brave knight and a skilled fighter, but you really need to know your pop culture references.”

“Honestly,” Marcus said, looking pale, “it kinda looks more like the Thing.”

“Would have said the Flood, myself,” Discord said.

“Does it matter?” Elliot asked.

“Woulda gone for Necromorphs, personally,” Kraber added.

“Guys! Semantics!” Elliot snapped. He spun Excalibur in his hand once. “Right.”

With a sudden flash of energy, the Avatar of Albion was standing in front of the group.

“It is time to end this,” he scowled.

“Kill the dead?” Kraber asked.

“Stem the Flood?” Discord added.

“Wreck that Thing?” Marcus put in.

The Avatar simply looked at them all. “Yes.”

And he charged.

***

“So,” Marcus growled. “In addition to the biomass-eating blob, we also have another clone of Queen Celestia running around! Well, today is just fucking brilliant, isn't it?!”

“We need to put her down quickly,” Stephan wheezed, winded from the last impact. “We can't afford another protracted fight, not with everything that's happening right now.”

The Avatar had a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked at Marcus with a slow smile on his face.

“Colonel,” he asked. “Are you afraid of heights?”

Marcus blinked. “Do I want to know why you’re asking?”

The Avatar grabbed him by the arm and suddenly took off into the sky. Marcus gave a yell. “I REGRET EVERYTHIIIIIIIiiiiii…”

“Well,” Stephan said, blinking. “This is… fun.”

***

... and that is where we stopped.

Which sucks, because there was a battle against what we affectionately called the Newfoal-Necro-CellyMorph, which was a fun concept. The key point, though, is this.

This was not the end!

Convergence was planned to exist for at least two more stories and two more spinoffs, the main stories later coalesced into one big story! There would have been more battles, more death, and more epic moments!

… and guess what? We wrote a ton of stuff that was due to happen, and now we’re gonna share it with you!

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Convergence Retribution

Author's Note

AN: written before the decision to coalesce the three Convergence stories into one, this prologue set the scene for another exciting aspect of Convergence - Bringing the Freeverse (AOA’s take on a “Canonverse”) into the story!

We hope you enjoy this material. ~Jed

Well, not much we can do about that last part... Sigh. So much stuff we never got around to. You guys really did deserve better. ~Fluffy

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Convergence Retribution

Convergence: Retribution.

Based on an idea by Doctor Fluffy and Jed R, “The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum” written by ~~redskin122004~~ (FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK) and various others, and “The Avatar of Albion” written by Jed R.

Prologue: For Tonight We Die.

Written by:

Doctor Fluffy,

Jed R.

Editors

RoyalPsycho,

The Void.

***

“You just don't get it, do you, Jean-Luc? The trial never ends.”
Q, Star Trek: The Next Generation - “All Good Things”.

***

Celestia's Throne Room, Canterlot Palace, Canterlot. February 7th, Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

Princess Celestia was not normally one prone to allowing creatures to disrupt her business, save for good cause. Normally, Discord - the recently reformed, self-styled "Lord of Chaos" - was not one who tended to interrupt for good reasons. However, when he burst into the throne room - by the front door no less - she sensed there was something else at play.

Celestia did not claim to know him well. Truth be told, she did not claim to know him at all: they had clashed as enemies many thousands of years ago, during what history had once remembered as the Discordant Ages (oh, such a long time ago), but those times had rarely seen them meet, and even then she had always found the Draconequus... a mystery. Even now, after his reformation, she could not claim to "know" him in any meaningful sense. Nonetheless, the look on his face was one of deadly seriousness, an expression that she was quite unused to seeing on his face.

"Princess Celestia," he said quietly, marching straight up to her, "you and I need to have serious words. Something's amiss that you need to hear about."

Celestia frowned for a moment, considering what he had said. Everything about his expression and his attitude demanded her complete attention - something she was unused to. She frowned for a moment, before ordering her Guards to dismiss the court and then leave her and Discord alone. A few moments later, she found herself sat before the Draconequus, listening to the most horrific story she had ever heard in her entire life.

He spoke of another world, almost identical to this one. In that world, there had been something… Discord was reticent to go into detail, but he described the Celestia of that world as having been "corrupted" by a dark power. In her corruption and darkness, she had allowed an entire world to be all-but destroyed, and worse, had gone to war in a last ditch attempt to annihilate the survivors of the "human race". Somehow, this seemingly hopeless fight for the humans had turned into a brutal and bloody war of attrition that had left scarcely 14 million of their kind alive, and claimed many millions of pony lives.

Worse, though, at least for Celestia on a personal level, was hearing that this alternative version of herself had been responsible for the death of her world's Luna. Celestia had encountered many atrocities - many of them Discord's own work (the smell of fire as the outer limits of Canterlot burned, and she could hear Luna barking orders to her company as the horde charged…), and so much of the horror the Draconequus spoke of, though it sickened her, could not move her exterior beyond a gradually more disgusted expression. Upon hearing that this other Celestia - this Solamina - had slain Luna…

Sister, we have stood together in battle, we have stood together as mad-ponies and demagogues and our own corrupted kin have threatened the safety of our ponies. Losing you was the most horrific experience of my life. How… how can this creature with my face live, knowing what she has done?

Discord was not done, however. Apparently, these "humans" had a great champion, but when he had been sent via their magical means through a portal designed to take him into battle against this Solamina, he had hatched a plan with his alternative self to bring him to this world instead. It had, however, not turned out as well as he had hoped, instead sending this champion to another world, facing yet another Equestria.

"What you have to understand is that that Equestria is different to ours," Discord said. "You, Lulu and even me - in that place, we're all creations of an Alicorn named Faust, and our creation was the result of a very specific - not to say very nasty - conflict between her and her iteration of Tirek."

"Tirek?" Celestia repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I remember him - he was sealed in Tartarus… but in this other world…"

"In this other world, these lives are very different," Discord said darkly. "And he's older and nastier than the version you fought by far. There's a whole different evolutionary process at work - you ever get a biologist on it, he’d probably laugh. Or cry. Or have a sudden hernia. Or all three."

Celestia frowned. "Strange… and you're saying that… that these Equestrias have become involved in a war… that there is another world of humans?"

"Correct," Discord said, snapping a finger. A gold star appeared on Celestia's chest, and she frowned. Discord shrugged. "Sorry, force of habit."

"So," Celestia said slowly. "This human has involved himself in another war… how does this involve this world?"

"Well," Discord said, "much as I hate to say 'destiny'..."

"I don't believe in 'destiny', Discord," Celestia said flatly, scowling at him.

"Well, call it a simpler word for a much more complicated idea," Discord said with a shrug. "There's ties of time and space and other similarly abstract - and really very dull - things that have this world tied to my counterpart's world. When I went to check up on him when this human of his didn't come…" He paused, sighing. "He warned me that those ties might still get us involved in this mess, one way or another. And it's been, what, a thousand years since the Nightmare War? A hundred years before that was the Sombran war, and another three thousand since Mol Cassar? Then of course there was my little 'test'..."

"'Test'?" Celestia repeated. "If you're referring to the Discordant Ages..."

"Specifically the first one," Discord interrupted. "And yes, 'test' is the right word."

"How can you -" Celestia began, outraged, but Discord held up a single digit to stop her.

"Maybe if we survive this nonsense with our respective marbles intact and something vaguely resembling Equestria still standing, I'll tell you why those tests happened," he said testily. "Until then, I'm not my young Faust-born counterpart, and I'm really not in the mood to spend hours arguing with you about who the biggest monster was!" He took a breath, frowning. "I'm not going to apologise for what I did - it made you who you are, and that's more important than you realise."

"Apparently it made this other version of me a monster," Celestia commented.

"No," he said abruptly, "something else did that."

Celestia sighed, accepting that further recriminations would get her nowhere. "What would you have me do?"

"Like I was saying," Discord said. "It's been centuries since this Equestria has faced war of any meaningful scale when compared to the conflicts these other worlds are facing. You've had a thousand years of petty insurrections and border-skirmishes, attacks on Roks and Griffin separatists… maybe the odd coup attempt here and there…”

Celestia sighed as her mind wandered over her history. Discord was right - compared to the horrors of their distant past, the last thousand years had been… relatively peaceful.

“Trust me,” Discord added. “What your last millennia was like is nothing compared to what awaits you out there."

"You want me to build up our army," Celestia said slowly, nodding as the realisation set in.

"I think it might be an idea," Discord replied with a slight smirk. “Those worlds are tied to us - if the Tyrants, either Tyrant, wins… they won't stop where they are. They'll carry on, and on and on until…”

“You have made your point.” Celestia turned away from him, walking up to the window and looking out at Canterlot.

It was so peaceful - Discord was right. It had been so long since there had been true conflict here - there had been colony disputes, border skirmishes, but true, large scale war - war that consumed the economy, war that claimed the flower of generations - was a memory of the distant past to her, all-but-unknown to her ponies. She had honestly wondered if she had entered an age where her ponies would never again know the horrors of such conflict, the trials that the soul endured when pushed to those limits.

You were naive, Gloriana, and naivety is the first thing you must shed, a voice in her head not unlike her long dead mother's speaking. Her mother had often spoken of facing the world as it was, not the world as you would wish it to be.

She had been a wise mare.

"How long have you known me, Discord?" she asked softly after a moment.

"Ooh, as in personally, if we're counting the wars, about eight thousand years, give or take?" Discord replied idly, scratching his chin as he did so. "Why?"

“Because in all that time, you seem to have learned nothing of me,” Celestia said grimly.

Discord raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

"You come to me with a tale of horror and death," Celestia said slowly. "Telling me of a mad Alicorn who brings shame upon this line and throne the likes of which it has not known since Sombra's descent into madness, and another mad Alicorn who shares much with me as well, if not as much as this 'Solamina'." She turned to him, her eyes blazing with an inner determination they had not held for thousands of years. "And you expect me to sit here, waiting for war to come to me?"

Discord raised an eyebrow. "You cannot seriously be thinking what I think you're thinking."

In response, Celestia turned to her throne. Her horn glowed, and the cushion of the great seat slid away, as a long golden glaive rose from beneath the throne. Though it had not been drawn for a thousand years, the weapon was untouched by time, gleaming and resplendent. Carvings of fiery maned ponies crossed the blades and sculpted flames licked the tip of the glaive's spear. This was her blade - the Astra di Irae, the star of war. She had reformed it herself - it had begun as the Regalia di Irae, a sword known as the weapon of kings, but she had reworked the weapon into a glaive, matching her own preferred style. With a clang, the butt of the handle smashed into the floor before her, held upright in her telekinetic grip. She inspected it, nodding slightly at the condition of the weapon.

"I'd comment about the fact that you sit with a sharp phallic object under your plot," Discord said, raising an eyebrow, "but I'm more inclined to comment about how insane the idea of you entering this conflict is. It's a bad idea! It's the bad idea, definite article, capital letters, italicised font!"

As if to illustrate his point, he snapped a claw and a heavy, leather-backed book appeared in his paw, where he turned it to a page showing the words "BAD IDEA" next to a picture of the two of them stood in this room, and showed it to her.

"I would rather be known as the Princess who took a stand when faced with evil than the Princess who cowered when others suffered," Celestia replied, throwing him a glance and ignoring his antics. "The days are gone when I would let others suffer because a war was not my own."

Discord sighed, snapping the book from existence - he knew a lost cause when he fought one, especially with her.

"Should I go warn my counterpart?" he asked tiredly.

"Not yet," Celestia replied with a growing, almost mischievous grin, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'll probably be sending some ponies with you."

***

First, there was one world. Then there were two. Then, three. And then, without any warning, there were five.

The world has changed: what was once a matter of one war has now become something far greater.

Except…

You already know that this is over. You’re reading this and you know that these are the fragments of a world that will never, ever come to pass.

Tell me.

How does that make you feel…?[/i]

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Liberation

- Three months have passed. We see a battle between the two Empires.

***

- Allied soldiers engage Solaminan troops. False Alicorns are shown to be a threat.

***

- Elliot encounters the Oracle on his journey. The oracle tells him he needs to get past the final hurdle - himself.

***

- The PHL and BDF start planning their counterattack against the Solar and Solaminan Empires.

***

- Elliot visits Merlin and begins a brief stint of training.

***

- Elliot returns to the Archives - he consults with DisQord, who creates a "hyperbolic time chamber" for his use to train. Elliot takes AOA!Lyra with him.

***

- Viktor Kraber becomes an Iron Clad.

***

- Elliot and Lyra training in the time chamber - this covers several moments.

***

- Elliot and AOA!Lyra emerge. Elliot brings Downtime Lyra with him into the chamber.

***

- A plan by PHL officers to invade Solamina's Equestria is drawn up - this plan is rejected by the Council, but the PHL intend to follow through. Rift forms between the allies. Outcome TBD.

"So," Representative Cheerilee said, scowling at the plans. "They asked me to talk to you about this. We couldn't quite believe it when your plan hit our desks."

"What's wrong with the plan?" Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is there something we missed?"

The Representative began flicking through the pages of the plan document, her eyes narrowed as she went through it. Behind her, Dinky Doo (who looked so… off in that uniform) looked no happier.

"It says here that the plan is centred around a massive bombardment campaign on key strategic areas," Representative Cheerilee said after a moment. "Something about a 'fujin missile'?"

"Yes," Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee said. "Followed by the ground invasion - we've also got plans drawn up to cut key supply lines off using surgical strikes. We're also considering contacting local resistance outlets to use hexes so as to choke troop responses and derail trains. We'll have to adapt for the lack of totem-proles, but honestly, this seems like it might be easier."

"I noticed you mentioned that in the report," Representative Cheerilee said testily, her scowl not abating. "Leaving aside your definition of 'easier', I also noticed that the collateral level is listed as 'high'."

"Why wouldn't it be?" the Lieutenant Colonel asked. "This is a strike to the belly of the beast…"

"It just seems a little… vindictive," Representative Cheerilee said. "Look at this - derailing trains - trains carrying passengers in some cases. Hell, I'm looking here at some of the backups, and it says something about assault teams attempting to - what's this say, 'destroy Canterlot's supports'? As in, destroy the entirety of Canterlot?!"

"That's only a last resort," the Lieutenant Colonel said. "Trust me, we don't want to resort to that."

"You mean if your 'massive concentrated bombing strike' fails," the Representative cut her off. "A strike - I might add - which seems to target several incredibly densely populated areas. The civilian casualty rate is going to be atrocious, even if you don't have to drop the city!"

"We're actually aiming for areas near Guard garrisons," the Lieutenant explained. "If we don't do that, more of our troops will die! This… in its own way, it saves lives."

"The Guard Garrisons are, according to all reports, right next not only to the original civilian quarters but also situated near Converted temporary accommodation that was set up in the city," Representative Cheerilee said. "Your weapons are good, possibly even too good. At that kind of distance there's no way you won't hit a heavily populated area and devastate half the city. Maker's sake, are you so used to dehumanizing the enemy?!"

"Yes," the Lieutenant Colonel said bluntly. "The lower city will mostly be Newfoals at this point. And the only way to stop those is with point-blank annihilation. They will not respond to anything other than a bullet to the -"

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel," Dinky Doo interrupted, her voice quiet but her expression somewhere between angry and confused, "but whose Equestria are we talking about here?"

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee frowned. "The one we're trying to invade, obviously -"

"Really? Because I could have sworn you were talking about Newfoals for a minute there," Dinky pointed out.

The Lieutenant Colonel blinked. "I... apologies, I must have gotten confused."

"Yeah," Dinky said scathingly. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Do you even want to save your home at all, if this is how you plan to carry out your attack?"

"No," the Lieutenant Colonel said.

"No?" Representative Cheerilee repeated. "You're telling me you're happy with the collateral?"

"Of course I'm not happy!" the Lieutenant Colonel snapped. "No matter what I do, people are going to die! The fate of several universes is in my hooves! Do I look like a happy mare?!"

"No," Dinky admitted.

"Oh good, I'd hate to give the wrong impression!" the Lieutenant Colonel shouted. "My home went to hell and decided it was morally superior to drag everyone with it. I'm not even talking figuratively - I'd actually prefer to live in hell than see my home as it is now. Strikebreaking is so brutal that the Royal Guard have made it close to an artform, if the Newfoals paid on slave wages - if they're paid at all - don't beat the strikers to a bloody pulp first. They've industrialized so fast that they're poisoning the land to even survive, and even if I come back, there's downright hellish pollution in half the cities. Newfoals treated like slaves or worse because they can't say no, ponies losing their minds to whatever the totem-proles are doing. Secret police will round up ponies for any kind of dissent, even if it's just minor disagreement. There's ponies that call themselves mind healers, and they will wipe away any lingering guilt and just hide away your shame. Faust-only-knows what the hell happened to Celestia's mind." She paused, taking a breath. "I've read up on your Equestria - the Iron Wall, the Cloudsdale curfews and the sanctioning of the Pegasi, the extermination of the Night Guard and Luna's death, billions of dead Newfoals… Elliot told True Quill you set aside a whole island for it. And then there's the humans. Fourteen million humans out of eight billion. Dammit, your world is more desperate than ours is - how can you be objecting to ending the war faster?!"

There was a long pause as the other two ponies let that sink in. Finally, Dinky spoke.

"You think you can write off Equestria - our Equestria - like that?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

"Your Equestria is a write-off," the Lieutenant Colonel replied. "I'm sorry - but it is. All that you can do is go in, kill your Celestia however you can, win your war however you can, and pick up the pieces. Same as us."

Representative Cheerilee blew out a breath she had apparently been holding.

"The Council," she said, "disagrees."

She pulled out a file and slid it over to her counterpart, who frowned as she opened it.

"Plan written up by the Undead, Major Elliot, Major Redmond and General Anderson, co-signed by the Commanders of the Resistance Air Force and Military," Representative Cheerilee said. "Assuming the Discords aren't all hot air, this should be more than feasible, and save everyone and everypony a lot of bomb-dropping."

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee frowned as she flicked through the document. "This plan… it's ridiculous. A ground invasion? While they have zep support? One invasion point, one target? Only minimal bombardment to cover your troop landings?"

"Celestia Gloriana has promised Zeppelin support to help us match up against the fleets of the Solaminan Empire," Representative Cheerilee said. "And I'm sure your fancy Pegasi-mounted guns can help the ERAF against the zeps. Add the air support from your Downtime Celestia, maybe some numbers from the Downtime changeling hives, and we're in business."

"The troop casualties from this will be insane," Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee said. "This… there's no way Marcus or Stephan will approve this, let alone the UN Council!"

"It reduces bombardment collateral considerably," Representative Cheerilee said. "Better the casualties of those who've said from the beginning that they'd die to free their home, than the deaths of those they'd go home for."

"You goddamned bleeding hearts," Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee snapped. "You want your home back, I understand that. Plenty of ponies in the PHL do too. But this plan of yours is suicidal. A lot of PHL believe we've passed the point where we can do this without massive collateral damage a long time ago. What makes you think you haven't?"

"In your home, that may be the case," Representative Cheerilee said. "This is our home, Lieutenant Colonel. This is our war. We don't tell you how to fight your Queen Celestia, so don't you dare think you can come here and tell us how to fight Solamina."

"But this is stupid!" the Lieutenant Colonel protested.

Before Representative Cheerilee could answer, Dinky swelled up, stood to attention, and began reciting loudly.

"I, Dinky Doo, swear by my life and whatever deity watches over pony kind, that I shall fight for a Free and Just Equestria, that I shall fight to bring peace, harmony and justice back to Equestria and restore it to its former glory, that I shall not rest until the Tyrant no longer enslaves my kin, and that I will, as in duty bound, fight to defend the people of Earth who have been wronged by the Tyrant, and will obey all orders of the Government-In-Exile, the Ruling Council and the Officers set over me."

She narrowed her eyes at Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee. "My mother died over Manchester, fighting because she knew one day I'd get to go home, even if she couldn't. She fought knowing that we'd get home and make it better/i], not that we'd go and turn the entire place into a wasteland."

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee sighed and shook her head. "Look… I can't order your people to follow through with a plan they don't approve of. You're right. Not my home. You may not have been through what I saw… but then again, I haven't been through your war."

"Then you'll consider the alternative plan?" Representative Cheerilee asked.

"No," the Lieutenant Colonel said softly. "I won't."

The Representative raised an eyebrow.

"I get that you want to go home," the Lieutenant Colonel continued. "But like it or not, this is our world's war too now - your Solamina won't stop until she's conquered both our worlds, neither will Queen Celestia. Chances are, we'll be going ahead with or without your people. We don't leave jobs half done, and we do not plan on leaving a threat on our borders."

Representative Cheerilee paled, her eyes widening. "You can't. That's -"

"We can and we will," the Lieutenant Colonel said softly. "I'm… I'm sorry. Maybe it'll be better than you think. Maybe…"

She trailed off, and left the room, knowing that she couldn't say anything against the wide, accusing eyes.

***

"They're going to what?" Blueblood asked, eyes wide. "But… but you gave them the alternative plan…"

Near him, General Anderson had his hand in his head, looking for all the world like he wanted to be swallowed up. Sato was taking a drink of tea, his hand shaking. Elliot and Redmond were in the room too, and neither of them looked happy. Elliot looked thunderous.

"My counterpart deemed the risk to men and materials too costly," Representative Cheerilee said quietly. "She says the likelihood is they'll go through with their plan sans the BDF's involvement, and they'll do that in the one they left too. I hope she's bluffing."

"And they can back up that bluff," Elliot said grimly. "You've not seen their troops in action, sirs, but I have - they're effective. They've got the capacity to practically level the place single handed if you give them enough leeway - and if they let loose enough."

"When I took over…" Blueblood began, before swallowing. "I… I promised the ponies of the Resistance that… that we'd…"

"That we'd go home," Cheerilee finished. "I know. It might not be so bad."

"Their plan is a large-scale, multiple front assault, targeting several major population centres," Anderson muttered. "It's fucking genius, ignoring the whole 'massive collateral' thing. They'll be systematic and they'll be brutal." He chuckled emptily. "I almost missed having that around."

"There are a lot of angry soldiers amongst the PHL detachment we have in the Archives," Sato added softly. "They will not distinguish between the enemy they have been fighting and our enemy, and I fear they will be disinclined to distinguish civilian from Guard - certainly, from Militia."

"Well, there's no distinction to some of them," Elliot said.

"I can't believe they'd do this," Blueblood muttered.

"Not all of them would. There's some with consciences," Elliot said. "Kraber for one - man would never admit it but he'd back us up. Or… I hope he would."

"Can't we… stop them?" Blueblood asked.

Anderson laughed. "How? We tried saying 'don't', but that's pissing in the wind. And if you're honestly suggesting a military recourse…"

"No," Blueblood said hastily. "No, of course not. That's the last thing we need - and it'd do little good."

"We'd be dead in five minutes," Redmond muttered. "Maybe six if the Iron Clads held out."

"Nobody's suggesting anything like that," Elliot added. "For the love of all that's holy, anything but that. I didn't ask them to come here just to start another war."

There was a sombre moment in the room, as each person and pony took a moment to think of what was happening.

"I…" Blueblood said softly. "I should go speak to the troops here. They'll start hearing rumours soon - I'd hate them to learn their home is going to be razed second hand. They deserve that much."

He trotted out, Dinky following him. Cheerilee sighed.

"They aren't doing it to spite us," she said. "Trust me, they're not monsters. The other me… Pony God, the things that mare must have been through…"

"If they do this," Sato said, "we must do… something."

"If they do this," Elliot said, "then I'll go up to Marcus Renee and I'll tell him to his face that we're done with him and with his world, and if he doesn't like it he knows what he can do." He paused. "I don't like backing out… but we're not spineless lapdogs that'll come to heel when they whistle, whether they have bigger guns or not."

"That won't do any good," Anderson said. "It's us that needs them, not the other way around."

"Yeah," Elliot muttered, "but it'll make me feel better. They're not planning a war, they're planning a genocide - they're gonna stomp on Equestria, and they don't care if they smush the wrong ants."

With that, he too left.

***

When True Grit saw this 'Avatar-verse's' Prince Blueblood walk out into the main assembly area, the Night-Guard armoured Dinky Doo and the older, stubblier version of Elliot with him, he frowned.

"Here, John," he said to his colleague. "What's got his goat?"

Constantine looked up, frowning. "You know, that's the second top-brass type I've seen look so drained. Something's up."

"What, you mean Cheerilee?" Errant Flight put in, gesturing to the Lieutenant Colonel, who was talking with Marcus and Stephan over in one corner of the assembly area. "Yeah, she looked a little out of it. What's going on d'you reckon?"

Constantine shrugged.

As they spoke, Blueblood arrived at a clump of Resistance ponies, their distinctive khaki shirts setting them apart from their more armoured PHL counterparts. A few colourful shirts signifying ERAF flyers were also around, as were a few armoured Night Guards. True Grit, curious, walked over to this clump, as did Constantine and Errant Flight.

"Sir?" one of the ponies asked Blueblood. "Commander Albion? What's going on?"

Elliot said nothing, instead looking at Blueblood. Blueblood sighed, before looking at the soldiers surrounding him.

"Have we decided on a plan yet, sir?" one of them asked the Prince.

"We… have," Blueblood said softly. "In a manner of speaking."

There was a murmur as this answer was repeated around the crowded group of ponies.

"I'm not going to like the explanation for this, am I?" Constantine asked quietly. Errant shushed him. As they spoke, more ponies and humans approached the group, listening for Blueblood's words. Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee, Marcus Renee and Stephan Bauer amongst them.

"The PHL forces presented a plan to the Governing Council concerning the invasion of Equestria," Blueblood began. "This plan involved -"

"We're going home?!" Sugar Snap asked.

"Alright, about bucking time!" the familiar voice of Vinyl Scratch said, a grin on her face. "Can't wait for it - I've been waiting for this for six years!"

Blueblood looked like a father who was trying to tell his foals that the Tooth Breezie wasn't real.

"The plan," he continued, trying almost to speak over the ponies, before pausing. "Their plan... involves massive bombing raids on Fillydelphia, Cloudsdale, Manehatten, Las Pegasus, Ponyville and Canterlot, followed by massive, mechanised invasion on the ground, precipitated by heavy armour and massive amounts of artillery." He paused, taking a breath. "Said invasion comes, unsurprisingly given what's being used, with a certainty of massive collateral damage. Civilian casualties are optimistically projected to be in the high tens of thousands, with the more pessimistic estimates reaching the low millions, and we believe that the damage to all of these cities would be…"

He trailed off, looking pale and sick, shaking his head as though trying to shake off the nausea. There was a sudden rush of murmuring as soon as he stopped, and a few of the Resistance ponies threw dirty looks at Flight and Grit, both of whom frowned.

"Sorry, I'm missing the part where he's giving bad news?" Errant whispered to his friend. Grit said nothing, sensing something was up.

"But they can't cause that kind of damage," an ERAF pony pointed out. "We've got families there - my cousins live in Manehatten!"

"My mother, my uncle, my aunt, half my family lives in Cloudsdale!" yelled Heliotrope, a Blue Squadron mare. "I didn't sign on to bomb my family!"

"We can't just bomb Canterlot, either!" Vinyl added. "Tavi's there - hell, half the places you've talked about are full of our supporters in Equestria -!"

"Sir," another pony said. "Please, Pony God tell me there's an alternative."

"There was discussion of an alternative plan," Blueblood said, holding up a hoof to silence the murmuring, "involving a surgical invasion of Canterlot via localised portal, mainly infantry with copter and zeppelin support. Collateral wouldn't have been zero, but it would have been heavily reduced -"

There was a cheer.

"Yeah, that one!" somepony yelled.

"But they said that risk to our forces was considerable," Blueblood continued, trying to ignore the renewed enthusiasm for the Council's plan.

"To hell with the risk," Heliotrope said bluntly, to more than a few cheers. "Risk is our business. I want something to come back to."

"Damn right!" Vinyl added with a fierce expression. "I'd rather throw myself at the whole bucking Solaminan Guard with three toothpicks and a cheese knife than risk hurting Tavi or anypony else who didn't deserve it!"

Her sentiments were echoed by the others around her.

"Be that as it may," Blueblood said quietly, "they vetoed the Council's plan. Our understanding is that they will be going ahead with their own strategy in the allotted timeframe."

There was a sudden, dread hush, and more than a few eyes turned to the PHL forces.

"I will not bomb my home," one pony snapped.

"Me neither!" another yelled.

"Rest assured," Blueblood said, his own gaze meeting the PHL officers, who stood behind the crowd of angry Resistance ponies. "BDF and Resistance forces will not take part in this action."

The PHL officers reaction to this was mixed. Bauer remained stony faced. Cheerilee didn't look at anypony.

"Why?" Marcus asked, his arms folded, looking at Blueblood like he wanted to break him in two.

"Because we want to go home," Blueblood said evenly. "Your PHL need to realise something about our ponies… we're not here by choice. We're here because there's still things worth fighting for in our home. Solamina is the enemy, not Equestria."

There was a tense pause, and then Renee turned away, his face cold as stone. Bauer too turned away, walking back to their area. Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee was last, looking somewhat shamefaced. Elliot threw a glance down at Blueblood, who looked crestfallen, before he walked after Renee and the others.

"So… so what's going to happen?" somepony asked. "Can they do it without us?"

"Of course they can," Heliotrope said bitterly. "Have you seen the stuff some of them have? Hell, my counterpart has a pony-goddamned invisibility cloak she made herself or something…"

"Those… those bastards," Vinyl swore angrily. "I can't believe this..."

They started milling about, unsure what to do, uncertain how to feel. Blueblood looked down at the ground, looking drained and defeated. Dinky, next to him, looked at him with a strangely sad expression.

***

"Colonel Renee," Elliot said, following after the PHL officers, who were talking with Lieutenant Kellman and another officer. "A word."

"A word?" Marcus said, turning to look at him, his expression thunderous. Kellman quickly headed off. "You people dump another war on our shoulders, then you try to tell us how to fight it, and then when we make a plan that's going to win your war for you, you have the nerve to say you'll just - what? Stay on the fucking sideline?!"

Elliot paused, letting the words wash over him. He tried to calm himself, knowing that getting angry wasn't going to do any good, and knowing that - in his own way - Marcus was justified. Nonetheless, he felt his fists curl almost involuntarily into furious little balls of shaking anger.

"I was hoping we could discuss a compromise that would allow us to continue to support one another," he said through gritted teeth.

"We understand your people's position," Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee said softly, "but you have to understand ours. This is a war that needs to end quickly. They all do. We have the forces to engage the Solaminan Empire available, and there's a good chance that we'll be able to end it quickly, with the minimum of troop losses."

"And in return," Elliot said, fixing her with an angry gaze, "you'll just bomb the shit out of the Equestria I swore to help my friends free."

"Oh, you 'swore'," Marcus said, sneering at him, apparently incensed by the tone Elliot had taken with Cheerilee. "You 'swore' to help them. What, did you get your fancy fucking sword out and do the fucking 'if by my life or death I can protect you I will' routine?"

Elliot glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look at you people," Marcus said with a scowl. "Guys running about like they're fucking knights and this is all some LARP-ing trip. I read Stephan's report on the 'Long Watch of Britannia' - you let crazies and HLF guard your fucking outposts! This is war. There are some things you have to accept as a part of that."

"I know full well it's war, Colonel," Elliot growled, his teeth gritted and his eyes narrowed. "I've been fighting one."

"Yeah, that much I can see," Marcus said. "I can also see that you have no idea how to fight one. Cheerilee showed me your plan - portal near Ponyville? A single attack point, before launching some ill-supported assault on Canterlot without taking the defences out first?"

"And your plan is better?" Elliot asked. "Bomb the shit out of everything then go plant a flag on whatever ashes and rubble remains?"

"It's the only way to win the war," Marcus snapped. "What you want is street-to-street slogging. It's no better than fucking Market Garden or Omaha Beach - a march into hell, enemies all around until the men are knee deep in bodies!"

"Elliot," Stephan said quietly, putting a hand on Renee's shoulder, "you have to see that our way is better."

Elliot sighed. "Your way might work for your Equestria, callous as it sounds to me - hell, it would work for this one, if we were talking about ponies that nopony cared about, but the whole point of the BDF and the Resistance's pact, the whole point of the entire Exodus Convention, was to ensure that humanity would ally with the ponies who came from Equestria when we needed them, and that we would help them take back their home in return."

"They'll have their home!" Stephan said. "But this way -"

"At what cost?!" Elliot interrupted. "You want them to go back to the skeletons of buildings and the rubble and ashes and charnel pits that were their homes, and you expect them to be grateful to you for 'ending the war quicker'. You heard those ponies - they'd die to save their home. Far as their concerned, better them than their brothers, their sisters, their mothers, their fathers."

"And you'd rather we think about them than your people?" Marcus asked.

"They are my people," Elliot replied. "I bled alongside them. I'd give my life in a heartbeat for them, and they would me - hell, they have. You've seen Lyra."

Marcus said nothing, only scowling.

"Brigadier Elliot, even if we wanted to work on a compromise, we're acting under authority from the UN," Cheerilee said softly.

"Don't bullshit me," Elliot snapped. "They gave you functioning authority. Far as they're concerned, Renee's the last word." He met Marcus' glare. "Aren't you, Colonel?"

"This war has gone on for too long as it is," Marcus said, too calmly. "With the help of the Discords, we have a chance to end it."

"We do," Elliot agreed. "And I think we should end it the right way."

"'Right' way?" Marcus asked, folding his arms. "I'd say the right way is whatever way that gets us victory with the least losses - and I rate men, women, mares and stallions a lot higher than Newfoals."

"Really," Elliot said softly. "You willing to do whatever it takes, right?"

"Not quite everything," Marcus replied, "but this? Yeah. Those civilians in Solamina's Equestria? I'm sorry they might die - but they're a hypothetical, and they're not our people. They're acceptable if it wins this sooner, with less loss."

"Because you think it's 'right'," Elliot continued, speaking almost in a whisper.

"And?" Marcus asked.

Elliot's eyes were haunted and oddly mournful. "I met men and women who thought like you do. They did what had to be done, sacrificed people they thought were 'acceptable losses'." He swallowed. "It isn't something you live with easily."

Marcus nodded slowly, frowning slightly. "Yeah. I know."

"Do you?" Elliot asked. "You live in an America where things are bad - but have you seen men and women lined up to be shot for starting a food riot? Have you lived in an absolute police state, and known that you can't do anything because it's that or anarchy? Have you been to the furthest far edge? Have you -?"

He paused, shaking his head. Marcus' eyes widened slightly, as though he were trying to comprehend what he was hearing.

"What happened here?" Cheerilee asked, looking appalled at what she had heard.

Elliot shook his head. "I can't stop you from doing what you're going to do. But don't think the price is one you can live with."

"You've managed," Marcus said icily. "Despite lining up civilians and shooting them."

"I was a border guard, watching for some sort of pony action or the Barrier," Elliot said quietly. "I was lucky, in a sick, twisted kind of way. But I've served with some of the men who did the shooting. They... didn't think it was worth it. Some of them..." He shook his head again. "You'll do what you're gonna do. But I can tell you - don't be here when you do it."

"Is that a threat?" Marcus asked, scowling.

"It's an order," Elliot said firmly. "You do this, this alliance is over. You and your PHL can go back to your home and fight your war, and that's it."

"You said you'd stand by us," Bauer said. "That you'd help us against Queen Celestia."

"Yeah, I did," Elliot said, smirking coldly. "I guess it doesn't count if I don't get my sword out and kneel and speak in ye olde English, now does it?"

He walked off. Marcus scowled.

"Dammit," he muttered. "Dammit all."

***

"I… isn't all this a good thing?" Errant Flight asked Grit, as the older Elliot took a seat some way from anypony and anyone. "I mean, if it ends their war…"

"You heard the Prince of all fops," Grit replied heavily. "He said they think there's something worth fighting for in their home."

"Bull," Flight said softly. "I don't believe it."

"Well then," said an ERAF stallion nearby, scowling at him, "we're not the same."

"Yeah," Errant said. "Some of us actually know how to fight."

"Watch your bucking mouth!" the stallion snapped, but Heliotrope came from the crowd and held him back, frowning at Flight.

"Leave it, Air," she muttered. "These plotholes aren't worth it."

She and her friend wandered off, the stallion still throwing Errant Flight a dirty look.

"This is stupid," Errant Flight said. "So now what? We go kill their Celestia for them? Why should we?"

"She's gunning for us as much as Queen Celestia is," Constantine pointed out, looking thoughtful. "It's our business, now."

Before Grit could say anything else, something quite surprising happened.

A single clear, slightly shaky voice began singing.

"Home is where the grass is green
beneath a flawless sky,
I long to walk that grass again
in peaceful times gone by.

Everypony turned, to see Dinky Doo singing, her eyes determined, her expression set into one of resolution. As they watched, she continued.

"My home is lost in blood and fear,
ruled by a Tyrant Sun,
But I will fight to see that grass
until the war is won."

Looking up, the same, suddenly determined expression on his face, Blueblood joined her. As she sang, more ponies joined her as well, turning back to the Prince and his adjutant, their voice clear, filling the room with the sense of… of…

"Our home,
Our home,
Lost to the whim of time,
But we,
Will see,
Our home again."

Truth be told, True Grit didn't know what that sense was - it felt foreign and alien to him. But hearing those voices made him feel a stirring in his chest, heavy as a stone, light as air. A few ponies started stomping in time, and he almost felt the ridiculous urge to stomp with them.

"A thousand miles 'tween here and there,
and enemies between,
I long for peace that never was,
and may yet never be."

More ponies flocked to the little crowd that was forming. Heliotrope was singing, and so was the stallion that had spoken to Errant Flight. Elliot, hitherto silent, was humming, and tapping his foot to the steady, half-mournful, half yearning stomping.

"But home was once a shining star,
a joy for us to see,
and so we fight to free that star
and live in Harmony."

The PHL officers, on the other side of the room, turned to see the singing ponies. Cheerilee's eyes were glazed, wet as if with unshed tears. Renee was frowning, as though thinking about something. Bauer was... almost smiling.

Our home,
Our home,
Lost to the mists of time,
But we,
Will see,
Our home again…"

Renee was walking over to Elliot, and he sat next to him, watching the singing ponies with a softened expression. More and more ponies were joining in the song.

"Our path is long,
and full of fear,
and home is but a distant dream,
But we will never
give up on,
The sky of blue, the pastures green."

It had filled the entire hall now. True Grit had taken to stomping his own hooves in time, though he didn't know the song.

"We will go home…
We will go home again…"

Even Errant Flight was tapping now, overcome by the feeling that had filled the hall - the feeling of longing for something that was no more… but could be again.

"Our home,
Our home,
Lost to the mists of time,
But we,
Will see,
Our home again.
Yes we,
Will see,
Our home again."

There was no applause as the song ended, merely a ringing silence. The ponies looked amongst each other, and the humans looked at them with new eyes having only rarely seen their pony comrades like this.

Elliot looked over at Marcus.

"You do what you want to your home," he said, nodding towards the crowd. "But they want something left of theirs."

"I can tell," Marcus replied softly. "It's strange. Spent all these years writing off Equestria - now there's a whole bunch of people and ponies willing to die to save it."

"Hope's a wonderful thing, Colonel," Elliot said quietly.

***

- Battle of New York. Solamina launches a massive assault on New York. Despite bringing many heavily-armed forces, her armies are outmatched - until she unleashes Imperator Mars.

***

- Marcus Renee sacrifices himself to destroy Imperator Mars.

***

[i]And that’s as far as we got.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this look at what exists of Convergence. Hopefully, all being well, we’ll be around to write more stuff - like Convergence’s reboot - soon enough.

Til then.

***

Author's Note

So. We’re at “Liberation”, the Third part of Convergence.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much of this. We were a long way away from wrapping up the story. The only material we have - presented here - is prototypical and old, reflecting different priorities and the different times. ~Jed

As such, this is more of an outline than anything. We're sorry we can't give more than this, but that would require something in the classic spectrumverse. And I don't really feel like doing anything that depressing. So, here's what we had planned:
~Fluffy

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Battle Of Wight

Author's Note

Context: on the Isle of Wight, the PHL have set up a base and training facility, where their troops are drilled on Solaminan tactics. The Long Watch of Britannia are on the island. ~Jed

Well fuckdammit.

I had fun writing this, you know? I really did. I liked writing Sanderson's monologuing, I liked the atmosphere. I liked a lot of it. Did you know Kraber was meant to die here? The original Kraber, not the AoA version. I figured that I wouldn't be able to get in touch with Proud to let his character die, Red would be a pigfucker if I suggested Marcus dying, so that meant I had to draw the short straw here.

Shame we never got to do this. ~Fluffy

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: Battle Of Wight

The Battle of Wight.

Newport, Isle of Wight, April 3rd 2030, 8am. 'Avatar' Earth.

It’s hard, Sir Sanderson Dryden reflected, flexing his muscles slightly as he walked along High Street in the town of Newport, frowning slightly at the surroundings. To be old these days.

Even harder to know what would happen after he was gone. Children too young to remember before the Barrier, before the world died, would ask about the old world. Was there really TV for everyone? What was Legoland? Was it true there was more food than anyone could ever dream of eating? Why can’t we make any more of this toy? What was Poland like?

Dryden had never actually been to Poland. He had only visited Amsterdam, actually. But, he would answer these questions as best he could, silently cursing how the children would imperfectly remember it all, and tell stories of a world that might as well have never existed.

Who knew, maybe in time there’d be people that believed there was never life before the War in the first place. All of this, he thought, is going to be the last of its kind.

But he did not come out for patrol just to soak in memory. No, the grey haired, bearded Knight of Albion had been feeling altogether uncomfortable for the last five minutes, as though there was an itch just under the skin he couldn’t scratch.

He was an older man, but he had joined the Knights of Albion upon their formation - alone amongst all the various military forces, they had agreed to take him, and having seen the blessings of Albion in action, having felt their power, having felt like he could run rings around men half his age under their influence, he believed. He half suspected that it was the blessings that were warning him that something was coming.

He brought his radio up, dialling the frequency of Sir Thomas, his immediate superior, an Iron Clad Knight. Sanderson had not qualified for the Clad program, but in his tough leather coat, battered chainmail and greaves, longsword and pistol girt at his side, he felt able to face most threats. He tapped the radio to make sure it was working.

"Sanderson to Thomas, Sanderson to Thomas, can you read me, over?" he asked.

There was nothing but static. Now, Sanderson felt worried: any loss of communication was never a good sign. A moment later, a few soldiers in the red coats of the Long Watch jogged past him, their short coats unbuttoned and flapping in the wind - they looked like they were in a hurry.

Frowning, Sanderson followed, jogging to keep up with them. A few civilians, looking panicked, ran the other way, seemingly heading in the direction of the town's exit. A few moments later, he turned onto Pyle street, where his jog slowed, before stopping entirely.

There was a bright, crackling white portal ahead of him. A half dozen warriors of the Long Watch were stood near it, along with a Resistance P220a that had been brought in with the last garrison. The pony aiming it, an enormous Earth Pony Resistance Sergeant named Claw Hammer, threw a glance back at him - unlike a lot of ponies, Claw Hammer had a tendency to use the P220a alone. He had the size for it.

"Sir Sanderson," the Earth Pony said respectfully. "What do you make of it?"

Sanderson scowled. "Hammer, keep this thing covered." He pointed at one of the Long Watchmen, a boy of no more than seventeen, the blue bar tattoo across his face still bright and fresh. "You there, name?"

"Reed, sir," the boy said.

"Reed, go get Sir Thomas, tell him to ring the evacuation siren and get the civilians out," Sanderson said quietly. "This is an attack."

Reed nodded, before jogging off. Claw Hammer looked at Sanderson, eyes wide. Claw Hammer had fled Equestria with the last arrivals, and had just arrived - as a family man (well, stallion), he had chosen to come to Wight because nopony had attacked it since the Plymouth front had opened.

"How bad d'you reckon?" he asked.

"They're attacking us," Sanderson said quietly. "There's no way to tell."

He drew his sword and held it in a high-guard stance, waiting patiently.

A moment later, an equine figure stepped out of the portal - tall, wings spread wide, a long, thin horn upon her head and a flowing ethereal mane behind her. A long bladed weapon was held in her telekinetic grip and golden armour covered her body, and she was smiling almost lazily at the human and pony soldiers that were staring at her with shock at horror.

All but Claw Hammer. There was almost no delay between the time she stepped out of the portal and the time he bit down on the triggers and fired. A hail of bullets poured out the barrels, and he didn’t so much as flinch.

A moment later, the soldiers of the Long Watch opened fire, but the glaive moved quicker, blocking the bullets. The P220a barked, but the bullets seemed to swerve in mid-air and fly into walls. A glow surrounded Hammer's P220a and yanked it off of him, smashing it into a wall. The glaive spun three times, and suddenly the three Long Watchmen fell to the floor, spurting blood.

There was a sudden silence.

"Hell," Claw Hammer swore in a whisper.

"Well," said the armoured figure of Astra Solamina Maxima said, smiling beatifically. "Now that we've gotten that particular futile gesture out of the way, do we have any others?"

"Hammer," Sanderson said quietly, keeping his sword aimed, "get out of here, get everybody to Yarmouth and off this island."

Without arguing, Claw Hammer turned and ran, as fast as his legs could carry him.

Solamina watched him go, then looked at Sanderson, who had moved into a mid-guard.

"Ah, so here's another futile gesture. And who might you be?" she asked politely.

"Demon-Empress," Sanderson said with a growl.

"Demon Empress? What an unfortunate name," Solamina grinned.

Sanderson spat. "My name is Sir Sanderson Dryden. Remember that name."

"How can I, when you keep changing it?" Solamina chuckled, and then bowed her head slightly, almost in respect. "Joking aside, be assured that I will remember you, Sir Knight. I remember all my brave, foolish enemies."

She spun her glaive and swung it at him. He moved the blade up to block, and then blocked another blow from above. She stepped back and stabbed forward, and Dryden dodged, barely. He lashed out, and she blocked, but he brought his blade down again and again, forcing her back.

Irritatingly, she was smiling, as though this were merely a game.

"Decent form," she commented. "If I'm not mistaken, you're an older human - your skill is to be commended."

Growling again, Sanderson clashed with her glaive, before pushing it up and stabbing forward. She dodged, before swinging the glaive at him. He brought his sword up to block the blow, but the glaive cut through the sword, hacking into his chest and knocking him to the floor.

Smiling tenderly, Solamina brought the glaive out of him, and he coughed as blood spurted from the gash in his chest.

"You were brave, Sanderson Dryden," she said quietly. "For that, you get to witness the force that will bring fire upon first this rock, and then all your pitiful islands."

She raised her glaive in the air, as though signalling, and then armoured forms began marching in every unison from the portal. Sanderson caught sight of one of the pony's faces... and then he thanked God that he was about to die.

***

Archives.

“We’re dispatching troops!” someone was yelling. Lyra jogged through the command centre, trying to find someone - anyone - who could tell her what was going on.

She found Hell Blazer and marcus Renee in the command centre, as well as Celestia Gloriana (resplendent in her armour and cloak) and - to her mild annoyance - the other, Avatar, Lyra.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“Report’s come in from Wight,” Hell Blazer said at once.

Incomplete scene

***

SCENE TRANSITION

***

PHL base, outside Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, April 3rd 2030, 10:30am. 'Avatar' Earth.

It was an unusually grey, cold day for April.

A battered transport helicopter landed on a helipad, disgorging its contents: David Elliot looked around, scowling slightly, his green military coat blowing in the breeze. Behind him, Stephan, in full armour, had a hand on the hilt of his machete, looking more than a little uneasy. Bringing up the rear was Viktor Kraber, looking altogether uncomfortable without Aegis behind him, and Lieutenant Kellman, frowning somewhat as he he held his assault rifle. A half dozen Iron Clads followed them, weapons at the ready,

As they stepped off the helicopter, a man in an archaic red military jacket, vest and black trousers jogged up to them, a blue bar tattooed over his eyes and across his face. What was most notable about him was the rather gaudy crucifix hung about his neck. He saluted them as they stepped off.

"Captain Stark, Long Watch," he said smartly. "Take it you're here about the attack."

"That's correct," Elliot said automatically. Stephan let him take the lead - the Long Watch, like others of the various paramilitary cult-organisations, was under his command. "What's the sitrep?"

"Newport fell first," Stark replied grimly. "We have a bunch of refugees led by a Sergeant Hammer of the ER incoming from there - but we lost a lot of people."

"How many?" Elliot asked quietly.

Stark sighed. "Hammer reports getting two hundred twenty civilians out, plus about fifty Long Watchmen, twenty other troops, and a half dozen Resistance. They're on their way now. That's less than half the military complement, and over seven hundred dead civilians."

Elliot closed his eyes. "Jesus. What about Cowes?"

"We had men reporting evacuating from there," Stark said, "but nothing's been heard for a while. The Little Big-E and the Thunderchild are near the port -"

"The Thunderchild?" Kraber repeated, raising an eyebrow at the name. Elliot didn't blame him - it was the name of the ship where the great Ambassador Lyra Heartstrings had died.

"Wrong Thunderchild," Elliot said with a slight grin.

"Constants and variables," Kraber said with a smirk. “If only Aegis was here. He’d just give this knowing look, and we’d laugh at the looks on your faces.”

Ignoring this, Elliot turned back to Stark. "Continue, Captain."

"Sir," Stark said, frowning in confusion. "The Thunderchild is trying to make sure nothing gets out without approval." He paused. "So far we're getting reports of fire and smoke rising from the town, no survivors. That's four hundred and fifty civvies, a hundred soldiers."

"Over a thousand dead all told, then," Elliot said, putting his head in his hands and running them both through his hair. "What about Yarmouth's sitrep?"

"We've cleared out the civvy population on the ferries," Stark said, "and the PHL lot are holding a perimeter on the approach. Good lads and lasses."

"What do we have here?" Stephan asked, frowning at Stark.

The Long Watchmen threw a glance at Elliot, who nodded, before answering. "Two hundred Long Watchmen, twelve Iron Clads, about fifty Resistance ponies, ERAF Sigma Squadron, forty Royal Marines, and of course we had seven hundred PHL ponies and humans in training here. They're bulking out the perimeter."

"Good," Elliot said. "We'll hold while the civilians get here and evacuate, then pull out."

"We should be pulling out now," Kellman said quietly. "Waiting for a handful of evacuees isn't going to preserve more lives in the long run."

"We are not leaving sovereign human soil until everyone we can save is out of here," Elliot snapped. He turned to Stephan. "You staying?"

Stephan smirked tiredly. "Can't let you have all the fun, Brigadier." He turned to Kraber. "Come on, Kraber - we need to get to the perimeter."

"Sir," Kraber said uneasily, looking around.

Elliot held up a hand. "What's up, Kraber?"

"This all feels... weird," Kraber admitted. "Like there's something sneaking up on us."

Stephan frowned. "Weird feeling? So?"

"There might be more to it," Elliot said quietly. He looked at Stephan with a grim expression. "Kraber's seen my world before."

"Well, hallucinated," Kraber clarified with a shrug. "I saw him attacking Canterlot once."

"How is that...?" Stephan asked, frowning, but Elliot cut him off.

"What's more interesting is that he can do it," the Avatar said. "I was talking with Giles - he said it might mean Kraber's got a sixth sense of some kind - something to do with all this multiverse crap, no doubt. In any case, we should be on our guard."

"Sirs!" another voice called. Another Long Watchmen ran up to them, his uniform - apart from being more shambolic - identical to Stark's save the Star of David around his neck in place of the crucifix. "Sergeant Claw Hammer's just got here with his convoy - there's four hundred in total - he pulled some Cowes escapees out."

"Good," Stark said with a grin, but it faded as the large figure of Claw Hammer jogged up to them. Kraber's eyes widened, and a grin was on his face.

"Aegis!" he called. "Fok me, you're here! I've missed you!"

The grim looking Sergeant Claw Hammer frowned at Kraber as he trotted up to the group, cuts across his body and his shirt torn. Sure enough, he was Aegis, massively oversized, P220a on his back, and looking somewhat less cheery than his counterpart.

"Do I... know you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You look kind of familiar. Have we met?”

"Ja and no," Kraber said, his smile fading somewhat.

"Report, Sergeant," Elliot said quietly, ignoring the little bit of personal drama.

"Sir," Claw Hammer said, his eyes wide and full of fear. "Whatever the Solaminans are using, it isn't Convies, it isn't Guard. They're in cobalt armour like Guard armour, but they're... they're..."

He swallowed, visibly rattled. Kraber put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok," he said softly. "You can keep it together, bru."

Hammer nodded, visibly grateful for the support, even from a stranger who didn’t quite seem so unfamiliar. He fixed his gaze on Elliot.

"It's her," he said quietly. "She's here."

Elliot paled. "Solamina."

Hammer nodded. "She killed three Watchmen and fought with Sir Sanderson last I saw her, but she was on the ground. We didn't see her or any of her False Alicorns after that, just the Cobalt Guard, but I swear to you, sir..."

"Why didn't you report this?!" Stark said, eyes wide.

"No confirmation from anyone and I didn't want to panic everyone in the convoy," Hammer said with a scowl. "There was enough panic at the Cobalts."

"You did the right thing," Elliot said quietly, flexing a fist. He threw a glance at Stephan. "This isn't how we want to play this, I assume."

"We should call in a fujin, or an air strike," Kellman said, eyes wide with horror. "It's the only way to be sure."

"We can't call in a big strike while there's civilians still on the ground," Stephan countered, frowning thoughtfully. "And all the artillery we had back home couldn't kill the clone of Celestia, what makes you think that this Solamina can die to what we have here?"

“It's better than being on the ground, sir!” Kellman retorted. “You were there at Boston when the Clone came down - you know what she can do!”

“You're right,” Stephan said, and then he grinned. “But I also know that she can die.”

"Then it's up close and personal with a Tyrant again," Elliot murmured. He nodded, looking around. "Right. Claw Hammer, Stark, get the evacuees onto the ferries and out of here. Kellman, Kraber, Stephan, with me - we're holding the perimeter. Iron Clads, on my lead!"

"With Albion!" one of the Clads called. The cry went up, and Bauer couldn't help but grin.

***

The perimeter, such as it was, was not impressive. It was only a short jog from the port where Elliot and the others had landed, and was mainly improvised. The PHL on site were scantily equipped - a variety of modified assault rifles. RPGs, other such things, but nothing big. A single BDF tank, easily forty years old, stood nearby, aiming towards the dusty, empty streets of the rest of the town.

When Stephan reached the perimeter, he started barking out orders.

"You, trooper, tighten up - they can't be allowed past this line! Someone get more snipers in the buildings, now!" he yelled. "Do we have anti-Alicorn ammo on standby?!"

"No sir," one trooper, a young man, said, frowning slightly. "We didn't think -"

"Clearly, you didn't think, dummkopf!" Stephan snapped. "Colonel Renee ordered AA ammo as standard in case of attack - we're not on holiday here, people!"

"Sir, it was due on Tuesday," the trooper said quietly. "The supplies come in every Tuesday and we ordered the ammo for then."

"Hooray for supply snafu," Kraber muttered. "So that bitch is coming here and we've nothin' good to fokkin' welcome her with, apart from my gun?"

“Seems like it,” Elliot muttered.

"The bi - the Tyrant?!" the young trooper asked, eyes widening. "She's here? Why is she here?!"

"It’s Astra Solamina," Elliot clarified. "Not your Tyrant."

The trooper looked slightly less worried for a moment, before his eyes widened.

"Wait, that one?!" he said. "Shit!"

"What's the fokking betting he forgot her name," Kraber said with a grin.

Eliot didn't comment. The streets beyond the perimeter were empty and silent as the grave, and it was all Elliot could do to not feel a clutching sense of fury grabbing at him. That rage was not his friend.

"Our forward positions report something!" one of the PHL troops, a Unicorn mare, yelled suddenly, distracting Elliot from his anger. "Enemy troops inbound!"

Stephan jogged over to the trooper, grabbing her radio. "This is Major Stephan Bauer. I need a report - what are you seeing?"

"Yes sir - we're seeing what looks like Guards, sir!" the male voice of what sounded like another pony spoke. "Lots of ponies, armour - wait…"

Stephan paused. "What?"

"There's a roll of fog coming in," the pony reported, sounding confused. "It -"

There was a sudden burst of static and Stephan scowled, putting the radio down.

"There's something incoming," he said to Elliot. "Might be this 'Cobalt Guard'."

"Right," Elliot said, drawing his dagger and pistol. "Time to get serious then."

Stephan nodded, frowning and keeping his eyes open. He drew his machete, and in a flash it had turned into the claymore. He unholstered his pistol, feeling suddenly itchy, like he was waiting for something. The old nervousness, the emptiness before the rush of adrenaline… did that ever go? He shared a glance with Elliot, who smiled wanly. No. He supposed it never did.

There was something on the air. A kind of low droning, humming through the thick air.

"That an engine?" Kraber wondered aloud.

It got closer, louder - there was the sound of stomping with it, like the sound of marching hooves in unison, coming closer and closer. The droning became more distinct, and now they could make out the noise.

Words.

"Mortis Gloriana.
Astra Solamina.
Stella Rex Victores.
Stella Rex Supremes."

They came into view. Cobalt armoured figures, marching in perfect unison, spears held underneath their forelegs, pointed forward like lances at the PHL and BDF troops.

"They're fokkin' singing?" Kraber asked.

Elliot scowled. "Yup." He aimed his pistol. "You might wanna line up your shots, lads!"

"Pick your targets!" somepony yelled.

Stephan aimed his own pistol. Nearby, Kraber brought his MG2023 to bear, a vicious grin on his face.

"Wait for my order," Stephan called out. "We don't want to waste any shots here."

The Cobalt Guard kept marching, that same droning song leaving their lips.

"Sidus dei gloriousum.
Stella Imperator.
Astra Solamina.
Mortis Gloriana."

There was something wrong with them, Stephan noted as they marched. Their march was too perfect, their steps too in synch, and now that they were getting closer, he could see their faces: uniformly blank, unfeeling, uncaring, not even the rictus grins of the Newfoals - merely empty.

"Something's wrong," he said quietly. Elliot threw a glance at him.

"Yeah," he said softly. "There is, isn't there?"

"What the fok…?" Kraber whispered, eyes widening as the Cobalt Guard got close enough to see properly.

Their faces weren't just blank - they were dead. They marched with uniformity like machines, and from what could be seen of their bodies, many of them had brutal injuries - rotting injuries.

They were goddamn zombies.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" someone said.

"I second that sentiment," Kraber said numbly. "Fok me, that's… I've not seen anything like that since Reaper..."

Elliot growled. "Everyone sharpen up, aim for the heads like in every other zombie movie, and keep it the fuck together!"

“Remember your protocols!” Stephan yelled. “If the head shot doesn't work, aim for the legs. Less armor to deal with. Grenades throw when they are within 15 meters! Anyone with a shotgun, hold fire until they are close! Remember to fall back to the second line if they are about to breach!”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “You actually have a zombie protocol.”

“You’d be surprised,” Stephan said with a wry smile.

“Spines work too,” Kraber said. “I’ve seen this sort of thing before. You shoot out their spines, they collapse. Also, if you kick them in the face hard enough, they die again.”

“Not even going to ask,” Elliot said. “Just remember not to panic. Support each other, watch each other’s backs, and keep frosty.”

Stephan nodded. "You heard the Brigadier, keep your shit together!"

The troops along the line kept their weapons at the ready, none of them looking particularly comfortable. Kraber was scowling, aiming the MG2023 with his teeth bared.

The Cobalt Guard kept marching forward, their spears lowering as they did so. The troops facing them kept their aim as the zombies advanced, but Stephan could tell there were more than a few troops whose nerve was breaking.

“Hold your line!” he yelled. “On my mark, weapons free, pick your targets!”

Elliot sheathed his dagger, before bringing his hand up. A moment later, Excalibur appeared, glinting in the sun.

“Good thing I brought a tesla,” Kraber said, staring down the reflex sight.

“Thought lightning wasn’t good on the undead?” someone else asked.

“No, electricity makes muscles contract,” Kraber explained. “I should be able to use this thing to keep them down. Aim for their heads and joints when they’re spasming. I’ll move to the rear. Work as support.”

“This is surprisingly well-thought out,” Stephan said.

“I told you, Major,” Kraber said. “I’ve fought the undead before. Why do you think I wanted a lightning gun so much?”

“You’re going to make a reference, so I’m just not going to answer,” Stephan said.

Kraber nodded. “Ja.”

And opened fire.

The MG2023 sounded like someone taking a sledgehammer to a steel wall. Its bullets punched through limb after limb. Zombies dropped, one after another, but they didn’t stop. On fractured forelegs and punctured hind-limbs they forced themselves forward. Shots that impacted faces and chests stalled them or even knocked them over but the ragged column of the living dead continued on. Only the shots that penetrated the top of their skulls had an effect.

“How we supposed to hit their brains when they’re wearing fuckin helmets?” a Long Watchman screamed as his own rounds dented the thick metal helms the dead were wearing.

“By aiming, dummkopf!” Stephan snapped. He fired his own weapon off.

***

Reports going into the Archives. Lyra prepares to go, but Celestia Gloriana says she will go instead.

“What do we know?” Celestia Gloriana asked quietly.

“Only that the Isle of Wight is under attack,” Lyra said grimly. “And - well, we have scattered reports that Solamina is there.”

Gloriana cursed. “That creature. I knew this smelled familiar - she is making an example of you.”

“You’ve done this before?” Renee asked.

“Putting down rebellions isn’t always pretty,” was all Gloriana said in turn.

Lyra sighed, shaking her head. “I’m having forces mobilise as fast as I can, but -”

“It will be too late,” Celestia Gloriana said, frowning. “You will not get there in time.”

Lyra cursed. “What the hell are we supposed to do?! Leave them to die?!”

Gloriana pursed her lips, before turning and heading for the door.

“I can get there in time,” she said. “I will reinforce them.”

“Alone?” Lyra asked. “You’re -”

“I am Gloriana Regalia Celestia,” the Alicorn cut her off, and the ice in her voice suddenly reminded everyone in the room that, in another life, this mare had become Solamina. “Armies burn before me. I can help hold the line until your reserves get there - and if the whorse is there…” Gloriana gave a sudden, almost feral grin. “She will burn too.”

And she was gone.

“Well, that’s not ominous,” Renee said, folding his arms. “How soon can you get those reserves out there?”

“I can scrounge together enough for serious reserves in about an hour,” Lyra said grimly. “We’re understaffed as all hell.”

“What a time for manpower shortages,” Renee cursed. “I’ll get on the horn to PHL command, see if I can’t get some reserves from Downtime.”

***

A Battle now occurs.

It was a strange feeling, as Elliot brought a brutal hack down on one of the Cobalt Guard. He could see the PHL forces thinning out, the fighting scattering through the streets, and he turned around, the feeling of something coming getting stronger.

And suddenly silence fell, and he knew who it was.

Her.

***

There would likely have been a chapter break at this point.

***

Her arrival was altogether quieter than the clone of Queen Celestia’s had been. Where Queen Celestia had announced her presence with bombast and displays of power, she simply walked, trotting through the devastation with a vaguely amused look on her face. Her eyes wandered hither and thither, taking in everything.

Astra Solamina Maxima, golden armour glinting in the sun, her glaive resting on her shoulder.

Stephan stepped up behind Elliot, his eyes narrowed in contempt at their enemy.

“This isn't exactly how I’d have wanted to do this,” the Brigadier said quietly, keeping his eye on her.

Stephan nodded. “Any idea how we should proceed?”

Elliot flexed his shoulders, his grip on Excalibur tightening slightly as he began glowing. “One.”

And suddenly, he glowed, before exploding into light. Stephan held up a hand for a moment, and then in Elliot’s place stood the armoured form of the Avatar of Albion, his armour glinting slightly.

“Get Kraber into position, he’ll want to have his shot and we might need it,” the armoured figure said. “I shall… say hello.”

Stephan nodded, tapping his radio. “Kraber, sitrep.”

“These guys are still being a fokkin’ pain but we’re holding them - why?” Kraber replied.

“It's time for your second Alicorn,” Stephan informed him grimly. “We’ve confirmed Astra Solamina on the ground.”

There was a pause, before Kraber finally spoke. “Give me a minute to get into position. Try not to kill her without me.”

“Shouldn't be a problem,” Stephan said quietly.

The Avatar approached Solamina, pointing Excalibur at her in challenge. She brought her glaive from its resting position in response, grinning at him and narrowing her eyes at him.

“Avatar,” she greeted genially.

“Tyrant,” he replied in a level tone.

And then the two charged. Their weapons clashed, and a flash of energy blasted out. Solamina swung her weapon down, but the Avatar dodged, only for her horn to glow and a blast of magic to flare out and send him flying. Growling, Stephan drew his pistol and fired at her - but her glaive was moving, and she seemed to be blocking the bullets themselves.

Growling, Stephan drew his own sword and charged. He swung the blade at her, but she blocked easily. He swung again, but she seemed to almost be bored by the move, casually parrying and then hitting him in the face with the glaive’s shaft. He stumbled back, but came on again, swinging his sword in a vicious arc - that she blocked easily.

“Your technique needs work,” she commented.

“Fuck you!” Stephan snapped, swinging again. In a deft motion, Solamina caught the blade, spun it until Stephan was wide open, and then hit him with a spell that sent him flying backwards.

Just as she did so, however, the Avatar was on her again, bringing his blade to bear in a heavy downward hack. She blocked gracefully, then stabbed forward with her own weapon, forcing him to parry. He span around with the momentum of the parry and lashed out at her again, and she blocked, before he unleashed a devastating series of strikes that she had to move furiously to avoid, slowly stepping back under the pressure.

Groaning, Stephan got up. He brought his pistol up, firing at her, but she either dodged or blocked the shots - he couldn’t tell which. He growled in frustration, before moving to charge Solamina again. He reached her just as the Avatar backflipped away from one slash, and he stabbed forward, forcing her to party his blow. Overbalanced by his strike, he stumbled forward, and she hit him in the chin with the haft of her glaive, before blocking the returning swing of the Avatar. Grinning, she spun her glaive around, sending the Avatar off balance, before bringing her weapon down in a harsh overhead hack that the Avatar blocked. Stephan swung at her, and she easily blocked the blow, then blocked the next blow from the Avatar, before spinning and kicking Stephan backwards and following the spin with a hard slash at the Avatar, who was forced to dodge backward again.

Bringing her glaive once more into a guard stance, Solamina glanced from Stephan to the Avatar.

“Well?” she asked coyly. “I don't have all day.”

Growling, the Avatar charged, forcing her on the back hoof once again. Stephan, groaning, commed Kraber.

“You in position yet?!” he snapped.

“Very nearly, sir!” Kraber replied. “Just give me a few minutes!”

The Avatar was suddenly backwards past Stephan, who found himself forced to block another blow from Solamina. He grimaced under the pressure, but then the Alicorn was blasted backwards by a spell from the Avatar, who slammed into her and forced her back on the defensive. Stephan growled.

“We don't have a few minutes!” he said. “Hurry the fuck up!”

“Gotcha!” Kraber said.

***

From one of the nearby buildings, Kraber got into a firing position, bringing his MG2023 to bear. He frowned as he looked out at the battle going on - in the streets all around them, BDF and PHL were still battling those Cobalt Guard things for their lives. But - tellingly enough - a wide berth had been made for Solamina to fight Stephan and Elliot.

Watching them fight - it was surreal. When Elliot had fought the clone of Celestia, it had been difficult to follow. There'd been flying, zaps of magic: basically the sort of thing you'd expect from God-like beings fighting each other. This, though…

As he watched, Stephan charged at the bitch. He brought his sword to bear, bringing it down in a powerful downward arc - but faster than Kraber could even see, the bitch had brought her glaive up, blocking the blow. She pushed and stabbed forward. Making Stephan step back with a desperate, clumsy parry, and then she slammed one forehoof on the ground, a small shockwave making him stumble backwards before she spun and kicked him, sending him flying. As she did this, she brought her glaive up and parried an attack by the Avatar.

There were a few brief, blurry moments where Kraber couldn't see the moves the two were making, and then her horn flared and the Avatar was thrown backwards to, in time for her to turn and spin her glaive faster than the eye could see, as Stephan fired his pistol. Impossibly, she seemed to block the bullets, before she dashed forward, the butt of the glaive slamming into Stephan’s chest, doubling him over. Her horn flared again, this time blasting into the ground, creating what could almost be an eruption of dirt and debris that sent Stephan reeling backwards.

“Motherfokker,” Kraber said. He brought his MG2023 up, aiming at her. “Alright - time to level the playing field.”

***

The Avatar parried another blow, stepping back and riposting, only for his opponent to neatly leap over him, her wings flaring outward. With a single flap, she sent a gust of wind downward, causing the Avatar to stumble slightly and Stephan to be knocked off his feet, before she landed, spinning her glaive and aiming it at the two men in challenge.

“Really, gentlemen,” she said with an easy grin. “I’m disappointed.”

The Avatar growled, before charging her again, only for her to block his strike, before her horn glowed and a spell bore him backwards. He smashed through a building some thirty metres away, and did not emerge.

Stephan let out a yell, before bringing his pistol up again, firing at her. With a sigh, she deflected the bullets, her glaive dancing hither and thither, soft pings the only indication that the bullets were making contact with anything. Suddenly, her horn glowed, and a spell blasted the pistol out of his hand.

“Is that it?” she asked. “Guns? I would have thought you’d learnt that they were useless.”

Stephan, to her surprise, grinned. “That depends on the gun, don’t you think?”

She frowned, but before she could respond, there was a crack of gunfire from nearby - and a hail of bullets lanced towards her. Several bullets slammed into her torso, with others tearing into her legs, mane, wings and one managing to graze her skull, rupturing one of her eyes. Her remaining good eye widened, and she stumbled slightly, though somehow she stayed on her feet.

“Major!” Kraber’s voice came on the comm. “Can you confirm the hit? I say again, can you -”

“She’s hit, Kraber,” Stephan said heavily, breathing out.

As he watched, Solamina stumbled slightly again, and suddenly she brought her glaive close to her, leaning on it, but to Stephan’s consternation, she did not drop. He brought his sword up, approaching her, and he brought it down on her head in a heavy strike -

And she blocked it.

“You… fool...” she hissed, before a sudden shockwave of power pushed Stephan back, sending him crashing to the ground. Grimacing, he sat up, his eyes widening as he watched her.

The ragged holes in her body were filling with… something. It was black, almost liquid, and it filled the ruptures and tears in her body until they were exactly the same shape they had been. As he watched, her ruined eye was replaced by… something that was the same shape, except it, too, was jet black. And then the liquid solidified, before shifting colour. In a few short moments, Solamina was entirely healed, save that her new eye was a cold grey, rather than the pink it had been.

“Did you… really think… that bullets... even those aggravating things you have... would kill me?” she asked, her voice tinged with some unnatural power. Stephan shivered as he felt a cold, cloying presence ooze over him with every word the Alicorn spoke.

“Kraber,” Stephan said, his eyes wide, “hit her again, now.”

“Wilco!” Kraber said. Sure enough, another hail of bullets shot towards Solamina - but this time, she slammed her glaive into the ground, haft first, and suddenly a shield of semi-opaque energy, tinged black, appeared around her, shielding her from the bullets, which slammed harmlessly into the shield. She grinned, an almost feral thing.

“You homo sapiens and your guns,” she hissed, before her horn suddenly glowed. A shockwave of energy smashed outward, blasting buildings apart and sending debris flying.

Stephan raised an arm to shield his face, but could only grimace as he was thrown backwards, landing heavily against a wall. He fell to the floor, using a hand to try and keep himself from completely collapsing. There was a ringing in his ears from the impact.

“How the fok is she still standing?!” Kraber’s voice was yelling.

“I don’t fucking know,” Stephan said, grimacing, “why don’t you ask her?”

A hand placed itself on Stephan’s shoulder, and he looked up, to see the Avatar scowling at Solamina. He brought his sword up.

“Tyrant,” he said, slowly approaching her. “I see now that you truly are more than you seem.”

“Why thank you,” she hissed. “Now, are you prepared to do this properly?”

The Avatar looked at Stephan. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stephan said, pulling himself to his feet. “Get going - I’ll try and pull together some more guys. Maybe more firepower will do it.”

“Perhaps,” the Avatar said, before raising his sword at dashing towards Solamina, their blades clashing. Wincing at the sound, Stephan began limping away from the fighting.

“Kraber,” he said, “regroup with the rest of our forces. I don’t know how the hell she did it, but she healed.”

***

“She healed?!” Kraber repeated as he jogged down the steps. “How the fok did she do that?!”

“I don’t have a gottverdammt clue!” Stephan bellowed. “Some magic we’re not familiar with or something, God only knows. Point is, without bigger guns on the ground we can’t hope to put her down!”

Kraber nodded slowly despite himself. “Never thought I’d see the day when ‘more gun’ wasn’t the answer.”

“Well, we’ll see how it works as an answer when we rain a fujin on the bitch,” Stephan hissed. “Once the entire island’s clear, we’ll be able to start bringing some serious hell down on her.”

“My kind of thinking, sir,” Kraber said. “I’m on my way to you now -”

He stopped, his eyes widening as he reached the bottom of the stairs and the doorway leading outside. He could hear the sound of blades clashing, and with a sudden sinking feeling, he realised that it was closer than he would have liked. He hefted his MG2023, a feeling of grim determination settling over him.

“Sir,” he said softly. “I might be a little late.”

***

The fighting was still raging - most of the “Cobalt Guard”, as they’d been informally referred to, were being bottlenecked, but they were still gaining ground, forcing the defenders back. The conservative estimate was that they would have to abandon the island within the next hour.

A small group of reinforcements in helicopters had managed to make it to Wight, deploying mainly to help with the evacuation. Among them was Operative Lyra Heartstrings, who was stood with a group of PHL and BDF troops, including Aegis, as well as Sir Frederick of the Knights of Albion, an Iron Clad, and ten of his men. Also with them, sent ahead of a larger force, was Downtime Luna, who was speaking softly with marcus Renee.

“Alright,” Renee said softly. “We’ve got to set down some priorities. The first has to be pulling everyone out of here before we’re overwhelmed.”

“I’ve got people on that,” Lyra assured him. She turned to Frederick. “Go lend those troops some backbone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frederick said tersely. He set off at once, his contingent following him.

“We also need to know what the hell’s going on with Solamina,” marcus added. He turned to Luna. “Princess?”

“I will find the Tyrant,” she assured him.

“Remember, no heroics,” he instructed. “We’re not sure what the hell’s happening out here, but -”

Before he could finish, a battered looking Long Watchman jogged over to them.

“Report!” marcus snapped at him. “What’s your name, trooper?"

“Watchman Brook, sir!” he said hurriedly. “We’ve been trying to get these people out of here, but there’s been some fierce fighting!”

“Great,” Aegis said grimly. “Tell us what else is new.”

“Any word from Major Bauer and Brigadier Elliot?” marcus asked.

“Major Bauer pulled back to the main defensive position, but he was alone, sir,” Brook said grimly. “We’ve not seen Brigadier Elliot.”

“What about Celestia Gloriana?” Lyra asked. “She was going to come reinforce this positions last we heard.”

“Uh, no ma’am,” Brook said with a frown. “We’ve had no reports of any other Alicorns, friendly or otherwise. It might be that she did get here and we haven’t heard from her, but -”

“What about Viktor Kraber?” Aegis asked worriedly, cutting him off. marcus threw him an irritated glance, but he ignored it. “Was he with them?”

“Uh, I don’t -” Brook began.

“Mad Afrikaner man, wild beard, big gun,” Aegis described quickly.

“Oh, him? Major Bauer ordered him to support him with an action, but we’ve not seen him since,” Brook said quickly. He pointed down the road. “Major Bauer’s overseeing the defences from over there.”

“Gotcha,” marcus said. “Luna - get going. The rest of you, with me!”

He jogged ahead. Lyra followed, Aegis close behind her.

“You think they’re alright?” the big stallion asked.

“No way to tell!” Lyra said grimly. “All we can do is try to find them!”

***

The Avatar ducked under one blow, before slashing at Solamina’s side, forcing her to block. She grimaced and stabbed forward, but he parried the blow and hit out with the pommel of his Zweihander, striking her in the face. She stepped back, stunned momentarily, but managed to block the next few strikes he launched with practiced ease.

“So much better now the chaff is out of the way, isn’t it?” she asked, grinning slightly. “Let us be honest with ourselves, now - you and I were meant to fight this battle alone, without any of these lesser things getting in our way.”

She stabbed forward, her grin widening, before hacking down, forcing the Avatar to dodge backwards. She launched a series of brutal hacks with her glaive that forced him to step back as he blocked. He growled, interrupting one strike and lashing out with his gauntleted off-hand, striking her across the face. She snarled, and her horn flashed, a spell slamming into his shoulder and knocking him off balance.

She swung her glaive at him, and he blocked it one-handed, grimacing as she hit him in the chest with the haft of her glaive. He brought his weapon up again to strike, but this time her glaive intercepted the strike not at the blade, but at his right wrist. There was a brief flash of agony, before Solamina’s horn flared, blasting him backwards, where he landed in the dirt. He gave a groan of pain, staring at the ruin of his wrist.

“You are certainly a tenacious opponent,” she said quietly, spinning her glaive casually. “But tenacity can only take you so far.”

She brought her glaive up, about to strike, - but before she got the chance, a hail of bullets slammed into her again, blood splattering from the injuries. At the same time, the Avatar raised his remaining hand, firing a spell at her that threw her backwards, through the wall of a building. A moment later, Kraber appeared, hefting his MG2023.

“Fok, Elliot…” he said, approaching the downed Avatar. “I’d ask ‘are you alright’, but even I don’t state the obvious that badly.”

The Avatar got to his feet. “You need to get out of here.”

“We need to get out of here,” Kraber corrected. “You lost a hand, chommie - you’re hardly in any fit state to -”

A dagger-thin beam of energy shot through Kraber’s throat, and his eyes widened, his hands reflexively dropping the MG2023 and going up to the gaping hole in his throat. A second beam suddenly lanced through his chest, and his arms fell slack to his sides, his eyes bulging before rolling into the back of his head. He collapsed backwards, falling to the floor.

“NO!” the Avatar yelled.

He looked up from the fallen soldier to see Solamina, her body covered in slowly shifting patches of blackness. She was grinning maliciously, her cold grey eye blazing at him in fury.

“I’m starting to think your people are a little low on imagination,” she hissed. “Guns, more guns, more guns after that, maybe an idiot who thinks swinging a sword like a three year old with a stick is enough to threaten me, just to spice things up, but then - surprise, surprise! - more guns! Honestly, didn't anyone tell these people what I am?!”

The Avatar growled. He held out his hand, and Excalibur materialised there. He held it out in a one handed guard, cradling his ruined wrist slightly.

“That was a good man you just killed,” he said.

“I’m sure he was, for what it is worth,” she said. “It matters not, however. What matters now is that I am going to slay you - and then there will be no one who can stand before me.”

“You will not touch him, creature!” another voice called out.

Solamina paused, a frown gracing her features. She turned slowly, and found herself facing an angry-looking Alicorn, clad in alabaster armour, a cloak flowing from her shoulders, and wielding a glaive, which she was pointing at Solamina in challenge.

“So,” Solamina said. “You have come to face me, finally.”

“I have come to kill you, wretch,” Gloriana Regalia Celestia retorted. With a sudden burst of speed, she had slammed into Solamina and borne her upwards.

The Avatar winced as he stood up. He closed his eyes, and a moment later it was David Elliot standing in his place, coughing and clutching the cauterised ruin of his wrist with a grimace. He tapped his ear receiver.

“This is Elliot,” he wheezed. “I’m… injured. Kraber’s down. We need evac, now. I say again - we need evac now.”

He didn't wait for a response before he dropped his hand, his vision blurring. A moment later, he slumped to the side, falling into unconsciousness.

***

Celestia Gloriana fights Solamina.

Solamina slammed into muddy ground, far from the urban environments. The other Alicorn landed opposite her, breathing heavily - whether from exertion or anger, it was impossible.

“So much anger,” Solamina commented, a little mocking grin on her face. “It can’t be good for your blood pressure.”

“Shut up,” Gloriana hissed. “You are a mockery of everything I stand for. You’ve brought disgrace to the Adamantine line, to our family’s history, to everything. You’ve destroyed all the good work we’ve done.”

“I am fighting to protect that work,” Solamina retorted. “I exist only to protect my little ponies. That is the only thing I have left.” She snorted, bringing her glaive up into a guard stance. “I have no family, I have no heir, I have nothing but them! Every action I take, no matter what those of lesser power and responsibility think of it, is for them, for their wellbeing, for their joy.”

“How is what you have done for them?!” Gloriana yelled. “You have waged a war of destruction - gone against everything we believed in!”

Solamina growled. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. I answer to no one.”

“You will answer to me,” Gloriana said, before she suddenly dashed forward. She stabbed forward with her glaive, but Solamina parried the strike, before slashing at Gloriana, who dodged backwards. Solamina hacked at her, but she blocked the strike, before blasting the Tyrant backwards with a spell.

Solamina grinned. “Good, good! This will be a challenge!”

She threw a spell at Gloriana, who deflected it lazily, before throwing her own, which Solamina blocked in turn. Solamina’s grin widened, and she threw a more powerful spell at her counterpart, who grimaced as she tried to block it with a shield. The spell fizzled as it made contact with the shield, a crackling filling the air, before the two spells detonated in a massive explosion of energy.

Dust filled the air for a long moment, but when it cleared, both Alicorns were still standing. Gloriana was breathing heavily, and Solamina had a scowl on her face, a cut on her cheek slowly fading away as it healed.

A moment later, the two charged again.

***

Lyra finds Elliot and Kraber’s body.

Lyra dashed ahead of the main body of the evacuation forces. Elliot’s message had come in a few moments ago, and it hadn’t even been a matter of thinking. She had simply needed to go, like her body was on autopilot. She had been vaguely aware of Renee ordering troops to follow her,

It was amongst the rubble of a couple of larger buildings that she found them. Kraber was already gone - his skin was bloodless, and he was utterly still. Lyra spared him a glance before looking at Elliot, and she felt a wash of nausea.

He was pale, shivering slightly, blood running down from his nose. His right wrist was a bloody, cauterised mess.

“David,” she whispered, horrified. She shook her head, turning to yell back the way she’d come. “They’re over here!”

A few soldiers jogged up, looking grim. Aegis was with them, and he immediately rushed to Kraber’s side, moving to listen to his friend’s chest.

“No, no, no…” he whispered. He began compressing his friend’s chest. “Fuck. Come on. Come on..”

Ignoring the desperate Earth Pony, Lyra looked down at Elliot. He was still shivering.

“You’ll be alright,” she said softly to him. “I’ll look after you. I promise.”

She laid her head on him, listening to his shallow breaths, and closed her eyes, even as a medic moved to check Kraber properly.

“I’m here,” she whispered to him. “I’m here.”

***

So… boom.

It would have been Pretty Shocking to kill off a major character, not least one as well received as Kraber. I hope this sequence maintains some of the shock value for you. So after this, there were a few cursory plot points the next chapter or so would have engaged with:

***

Solamina keeps a scar.

For context: she would have been injured by Gloriana Celestia during the fighting. This is her examining the injury afterward.

Solamina stared at the scar that ran over her eye, feeling a wave of something unfamiliar run through her. She had not healed the wound, unlike all the other injuries she had suffered during the battle of Wight - instead, she was merely scrutinising it, trying to decide what about it was holding her attention.

“My lady?” the voice of Twilight Sparkle asked. “The High Command are assembled, as per your instructions.”

“Good,” Solamina said softly. “I will be along in a moment, Twilight. Please tell them to await my arrival.”

Twilight said nothing more, and Solamina heard her walk out. She paid it no mind, still focusing on the scar.

I was given this by an equal, she thought. By myself, in another life. Perhaps that is why I see it differently.

Or perhaps, another voice, from somewhere deep inside her, said, you keep it because you feel guilt. Perhaps you should.

She shook her head somewhat.

She was right, the voice continued. You have taken everything we built and perverted it. You are not fit to wear the mantle of -

Enough.

She glared at her reflection.

Plague me no longer, voice of the past. I am Solamina. I am in control.

But you will keep the scar.

She nodded slowly at the reflection of herself. If nothing else, the scar would serve as a reminder to her troops that she had stood in battle - the advantage of such things was that it would show solidarity, comradeship. Once, she had believed such things mattered on principle, and even now she admitted to their use in maintaining loyalty. Between that and her other eye - which stubbornly remained grey despite her every effort to change it - she had truly not come out of this battle unchanged.

We were changed a long time ago.

Yes, we were. But for the better.

She smiled. Certainly, this scar was a sign that she had not emerged unmarked from battle.

But neither did their mighty ‘Avatar’, she thought, a twinge of amusement on her face. We have met in battle, and I bested him. Now, we can but wait to meet again.

Satisfied, Solamina turned to leave the room. Her High Command awaited to hear her decrees - and she had two wars to win.

***

Elliot, after meditation, decides to leave the military in the capable hands of his friends and the PHL forces and take a leave of absence to search for what it means to be an Avatar. He and AOA!Lyra have a final conversation. She admits she loves him.

Jed - I wish we’d have finished this scene. This was a beautiful storyline in the making.

He was sat alone when Lyra found him. He had his sleeves rolled up, and his stump was crackling with energy. As she watched, a new limb began weaving itself into existence, silvery and metallic. After a moment, it had finished.

“That's a neat trick,” she commented. He didn't turn.

“Lyra,” he said, his voice a bland monotone.

“I've seen you make proper hands before,” she pointed out. “Why is that one so different?”

“A reminder,” he replied quietly. “Of my failure.”

“You're not a failure,” she said softly, as he flexed the silver hand, his eyes still hard and cold.

“Am I not?” he asked quietly. “Look at this. Look at me. One thing I’m good for on this sodding rock, and I didn't do it. I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough to finish her.”

“You saved Stephan Bauer,” Lyra pointed out. “You saved the islanders. You got most of your people off of there. That's a victory.”

“Not all of them,” Elliot said with a sigh. “Not all. Not even most. We lost a lot of good people - too many.”

He slumped into the seat, hand over his eyes.

“You've always been too hard on yourself,” Lyra said softly, her eyes wide and full of something unidentifiable. “It's one of your most endearing traits, actually.”

Elliot laughed. “Endearing. That's a word.”

“One of many,” Lyra agreed. “You -”

She paused, and Elliot looked down at her with a frown.

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Lyra said nothing for a moment, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She laughed bitterly. “Shouldn’t it be me asking you that?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a new hand, I’m fine,” he shrugged. “You - you look like you want to break something.”

“You could say that,” Lyra chuckled bitterly. Her smile faded. “I want to break Solamina for what she did to you.” She paused. “What she’s done to all of us.”

“Ha,” Elliot chuckled weakly. “You’ll have to get in line.”

***

- Conference between all allied leaders. Agreement is made: the allies have to end the war.

***

BONUS HOUR SUPER CREATE: :P

Unity

Based on an idea by Doctor Fluffy and Jed R, “Convergence” by Doctor Fluffy, “Albion” by Jed R and “[url=about:blank][Spectrum/url]” by TheIdiot and the Spectrum Crew.

Prologue: Through the Looking Glass

Written by:

Doctor Fluffy,

Jed R,

and

TheIdiot.

Editors

RoyalPsycho,

The Void.

With segments quoted from Spectrum by TheIdiot and the rest of the Spectrum Crew.

Are you paying attention yet? If not, you’d better start, because there’s a lot more at stake than you thought there was. You don’t understand yet… but you will.

You know these tales. There is a man, a dangerous journey to another world, and most importantly, a plea for help answered by a noble and wise Princess. These stories, you know.

But, just possibly, we can still surprise you. For what if there was another person to come with this man? Or, indeed, what if it was a different man?

Perhaps things could be far happier.

Ponyville. May 5th. Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

The Freeverse Equestria.

One day, in the magical land of Equestria, a purple Unicorn mare named Twilight Sparkle sat alone on the edge of a pond near the Everfree Forest, pondering the water as she tried thinking of precisely what to write for her latest friendship report.

The last few days had been… interesting, to say the least. Which was to say, a group of travelling Moles had come through Ponyville, drunk half the town dry of alcohol and then proceeded (while still drunk) to start digging themselves a mine - the foundations of a Molish city - in the centre of the town. It had taken all of Twilight’s not-inconsiderable diplomatic skill - not to say luck - to convince them that mining in the middle of an inhabited piece of flatland of all places was perhaps not the best place for them to start. They hadn’t been convinced until one of the inebriated party had noticed the looming form of the Smokey Mountain in the distance. Twilight had told them it was free land (she wasn’t certain, but then the only time she’d been up there the only inhabitant had been a Dragon so she was reasonably sure) and they had packed up and headed off.

Twilight admittedly didn’t know much about Molish culture. This group had ridden great big, scaly worms (or what they had called Wyrms) and most had been at least lightly armed to some degree, and that alone had intimidated many of Ponyville’s residents (apart from Lyra Heartstrings, resident cryptozoologist and something of a cultural historian, who’d spend most of their visit drinking Ol’ Trotspur with them and asking about the Wyrms and Molish history and - well, everything). Still, given how she’d had to improvise her solution, Twilight found herself feeling quite proud of it. After all - they’d left, and done so without causing lasting harm (the town’s severely decreased alcohol stock and the giant pit they’d temporarily dug in the town-centre notwithstanding).

Still, it left Twilight the unenviable position of having to explain to Princess Celestia that there was a Molish caravan heading off to the Smokey Mountain and taking residence on (or technically under) Equestrian soil. An unenviable task.

She couldn't complain too much about it though: at least it was a nice day for it. The sky was blue, birds chirped as they flittered hither and thither through the trees, and there was barely a cloud to be seen.

Another idyllic day, Twilight found herself thinking with a smile. Moles or not, it was good to live here. Taking up her quill, Twilight began scratching out her letter to Celestia.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Over the past couple of days, Ponyville has been playing host to a group of travelling Moles. Though they didn’t hurt anypony and they seemed friendly enough, they did decide that they wanted to dig a mine in the middle of town. I think Lyra knew why, but she got a little -

She stopped writing, feeling a sudden chill prickling at the back of her neck. She turned, but there was nopony there.

Just my imagination,[/i] she thought, before continuing to scribble.

Everfree Forest, Equestria. First Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae.

The Harmoniverse Equestria.

It was a beautiful day in Ponyville, but since moving in from Canterlot, Lyra Heartstrings knew better than to take it for granted. After all, in Ponyville, any normal day could be a prelude to the latest magical mishap, malady or madness to hit what Equestria’s leading insurers had dubbed the nation’s ‘trouble capitol’.

‘Never trust a beautiful day. Word is, things always hit the hardest when it seems nicest.’

And yet, wasn’t that the fun of it all? In Ponyville, it seemed anything could happen. So if you were a pony of a curious mind or an adventurous bent, what better place to call your home? And what better thing to do on a fine sunny day, than get out and about, go looking for the next discovery, chase the next adventure, seize that fine day by the ankles and shake it until the spice of life fell in a heap from its saddle-bags.

‘Well, that was a weird mental picture,’ Lyra thought to herself. ‘Strike one for the day.’

Still, perhaps that was why, instead of staying back at the town she was lucky to call home, she now trotted along a half-forgotten old path through the Everfree Forest, never minding that, except as a shortcut to the brickyard or the water reservoir – or, more recently, to make a friendly visit to Zecora – most ponies still avoided the forest paths unless they could help it. It was a golden rule that had been drilled into Lyra ever since she’d agreed to move in with her girlfriend.

‘Never take the Everfree for granted.’

But here she was, a cheery smile coming to her face as she hopped across a small brook. Yes, taking a constitutional into the Forest was somewhat silly, possibly even dangerous, but her curiosity had finally nibbled away enough of her common sense to outway caution. It all returned to what Professor Shriek, that dear old earthpony who always smelled vaguely of mushrooms, had told her back in Canterlot University;

‘Love your silly idea.’

She’d had some quite unusual teachers in her history. Although it could have been argued that they all took a leaf from the same book the kooky old Headmaster of Celestia’s School had used. It suited her just fine as a learner and probably explained a lot about her outlook on life; to think, in other words, that even if you knew an idea was silly, didn’t mean there was nothing to be learnt from it. She could ask herself why she’d first conceived the idea, whether it had any potential, and why she truly thought it silly in the first place.

‘In challenging your preconceptions, you may unearth something entirely unexpected.’

In this case, her silly idea had been that there was undiscovered history in the Everfree Forest. It was a premise Lyra had formulated based on the wide variety of local folklore that surrounded the tract of wild woodland, from the curiously well-preserved remains of the Castle of The Two Sisters – which rumour said even Princess Celestia dared not enter – to outlandish stories of a lost village hidden inside the Forest.

‘Heh, I’m probably not going to find that village on my first ‘expedition’,’ Lyra thought lightly. ‘But maybe I can find discover the source of those stories in the Castle’s library? After all, every legend is anchored to some fragment of truth.’

That, right there, was why the Everfree piqued her interest.

Above and beyond the stories, myths and legends, it was simply strange, scientifically speaking. Any unicorn, or indeed, any pony with a pair of dowsing rods could tell at a glance that it was a nucleus of magic. Plot the land of Equestria’s leylines on a map, and you’d see the overgrown Forest was second only to Canterlot in the number of lines that intersected within its confines. Lyra’s own past attempts to measure the Everfree’s energy flux, with tools ranging from a ten-bit thaumic crystal to a Geegee Counter she’d sunk the better part of a month’s earnings into, had all left her with the same result – egg on her face. Quite literally in the case of the crystal, which had transformed into an ostrich egg.

She could feel the magic all around her now as she happily trotted deeper into the brush, wild and primal and alive. And, for all that the Everfree had a bad rep, she felt surprisingly uplifted by that raw vitality. From above, rays of sunshine gleamed gold upon the verdant leaves and the damp, loamy undergrowth. Her path snaked through small valleys rich with ferns and old growth, watered by clear, fast-running streams, incubated in the muggy warmth of the summer afternoon. The Forest, whose dense canopy enclosed all life which grew, trod and crawled within its boundaries, felt more than ever like a living entity, a great beast with a moist breath and lifeforce of its own, deep and slow and timeless, and a heart that beat but once each spring, driving trees and flowers to bloom and colour. Although Celestia’s rays ultimately fed it, the Forest would always be its own domain, an unknown mind, remote and untouched by the ponies who elsewhere governed nature’s cycles, growing the plants and shepherding the clouds.

‘How strange is it, then,’ Lyra thought, ‘that the two Princesses once elected this location as the seat of their power, their place of rest? Could it be that the Forest hasn’t always been this way, it’s just some old thing which has grown over something even older…’

Admittedly, she was spitballing, which, to be fair, was what ninety percent of research in her field consisted of anyway, so it wasn’t anything new. For every premise that stuck, nine others went straight to Tartarus. But if she sought out the Castle, there was the possibility she’d uncover some forgotten archive detailing, well, something, right?

‘And heck?’ she mused, looking back at her saddlebags, packed with camera, film, trowels, water, and other essential supplies. ‘Even if I don’t find anything, this’ll still be a lot of fun!’

She was going to walk among ancient ruins that had barely known the hoofsteps of ponies for a millennium, she would read through ancient texts of lost lore and law. This could truly be amazing. A part of her began to wonder why more ponies hadn’t already taken a look. Surely Twilight, at the very least, would have been curious to investigate the archaeological significance of the site.

Freeverse.

Lyra Heartstrings, nursing the hangover to end all hangovers, was stood at the edge of the Everfree forest, finishing a sketch.

She had honestly had more fun in the last week than she had had in four years: she had never had the opportunity to meet Moles before the little ‘invasion’ of the last week. Sure, there were Moles from Mol Trotspur up near Trottingham, but that was Trottingham and she’d rarely had enough time to go there. She barely made enough money from odd jobs or from the paltry amounts of money she made from busking with her lyre to fund her need for new books and papers and drawing materials, and she barely got by. Actually going to Trottingham? Ha, no chance, not unless she won the lottery, and she didn’t even play the darn lottery (should I play the lottery? If I won I could finally fund that round-the-world trip I’ve been planning since High School).

Maybe I could write a book…. No, silly Lyra. That’d take too long, and there’s more editing to do. There’s always more editing to do. She sighed.

So it had been amazing for Moles - real, proper Moles - to come to Ponyville. She had talked extensively to them, though she had needed to imbue perhaps a shade more Ol’ Trotspur (a particularly famous - and strong - Molish beer) than she strictly should have just to gain some modicum of respect from them. She liked to think, though, that she had held her own with the gruff Moles, and once they got chatting they had told her a lot about themselves, their culture and their beliefs. It had been fascinating.

She had tried telling Twilight that all the Moles wanted to do was finally settle down, start a Mol (their word for ‘City’, though it really just meant ‘Place of the Moles’) of their own and, according to their religious practices, find a way to return to their Gods (‘...the Gods of the Mol-kin were born at the heart of the world, and they sent their children forth to seek paradise…’).

Of course, when she’d tried explaining, it had mainly come out as, “Moles want to build a Mol for the Moles, so the Moles of the Mol can find the Mole Gods of all Moles and worship their Moliness.” All this while trying to do the traditional Molish Molochai dance, which was incredibly difficult for a four legged being.

In short, Lyra Heartstrings was not exactly a sensible or coherent drunk.

She looked up from her sketch, frowning as she tried to remember the exact curve of the Molish snout, the exact cut of their tough clothing and their stout figures before the images vanished from her mind. And then she blinked, wondering if she had been out here just a tad too long, but the image she saw before her didn’t change a jot.

Further along the edge of the forest was a bipedal figure, slowly stumbling out of the forest. Lyra quickly pulled up her pencil and jotted a rough sketch of the lines of the figure: the long legs, the strong arms, and the flowing jacket it wore. She cross referenced everything she knew about every strange creature from Equus’ vast history and landscapes.

Not furred, so not any of the ape-kindred. No tail, so likely not a Kitsune in one of its forms, or a Nekomata. Easily too short to be a Minotaur. No spider legs or permanent, prominentmammary glands, plus there's no pheromone haze, so not a Jorogumo. Her eyes widened as she realised what it had to have been. Two legs. Two arms. It couldn’t be - but there’s nothing else that it could be… but that’s just…

She took a slow, calming breath, before saying what it was aloud, confirming it in her own mind.

“A human.”

She grinned. A human - the holy grail of cryptozoological research. Rare was the book that mentioned them, rarer still was there any notion of what they might have actually been. There were stories of cannibals from the south, ancient lost Empires of the East, adventurers in the North… the ancient Horssian tribes spoke of the great riders, brothers in arms. The Jorogumo writings lamented the loss of the first husbands and fathers. Even the usually staid mythologies of the Griffon Empire had their own tales… but there was nothing at all concrete about them.

Gathering her thoughts, Lyra moved slowly out of cover. The human was still stumbling its way out of the forest, but stopped as soon as it saw her.

“Ly-Lyra?” the human whispered. “Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Yes…” she whispered in reply, eyes wide with shock. It knew her name?

“This… this must be Heaven… unless...” the figure said, something like a smile gracing its strange features. “You… you did it. Lyra… you actually… actually did it…”

That was all it said, as it lapsed into unconsciousness on the spot, collapsing heavily to the ground in front of the tree. At once, Lyra dashed over.

He was breathing - definitely a ‘he’, gender dimorphism confirmed, unless their traits are radically different from our own - and injured in several places.

Drawing upon what she’d learnt of how the recovery position applied to two-legged creatures, Lyra rested his head against his hands – hands![/i] she thought, regretting that she had no time to marvel – and wincing at his unconscious groan. Then she turned and dashed back for town, stumbling slightly as she did so. She was, after all, still a little drunk.

The human behind her had a perplexed look on his face as she stumbled into town.

Harmoniverse.

Being Lyra Heartstrings meant your mind couldn’t sit still for any great length of time.

On her way, she had taken a detour to merrily prance about a field of wild flowers – and out here in the Everfree Forest, the flowers could get very wild, with big pointy teeth and all – then, after this had resulted in a chunk of her tail getting nipped off, she’d changed course again to pop by Zecora’s hut, only to be greeted by a sign in some mystic language which, after careful processing, she’d figured said that the local zebra witch-doctor would be back in five minutes.

Lyra had decided, then and there, that she couldn’t wait five minutes. Though her minty tail might have a tuft missing, though there were other strange encounters to be made in the forest, it was all small potatoes, in her book. The important part was, she told herself, patting her camera fondly, that she still had research to do. Perhaps she could have her little mishap looked at afterwards by Bonbon, though her girlfriend wouldn’t be pleased to hear where she’d gone off to.

‘Remember, Lyra,’ she’d thought, ‘if you stumble upon any oats out here, you’ve got to make it up to Bonbon by bringing ‘em back to her. You owe her, anyway.’

And so it was, a little battered, but otherwise unharmed, that she’d reached the chasm splitting the Castle of the Two Sisters from the rest of the Forest. There was only one tiny problem; the sole bridge to cross was gone.

She recalled what Twilight had told her of that night her friend, together with the five special mares who’d cottoned on for the ride, had travelled out into the wild to find the Elements and Harmony, and thus free Princess Luna from the curse of Nightmare Moon. Several trials of character had awaited them; Rainbow Dash’s, naturally, had involved flying across this very canyon to fix the bridge.

What a surprise, Dash’s workmanship had proven pretty shoddy. Or not built to last, at any rate.

‘That’s what comes of only having teeth to grip things,’ Lyra thought, staring down at her forehooves crossly. ‘How am I going to get across? No way am I turning back!’

Across the chasm, the moss- and vine-covered ruins awaited, seeming to almost taunt her with how close they were, and yet so far. What was it, she wondered, about wanting things so hard that it felt as if they took on a mind of their own, usually so they could mock you? Or perhaps that was just something the Everfree did. The very clouds in this place moved on their own, for heavens’ sake.

It wasn’t such a wide space separating her from the other side. Stepping forward to the edge, which loosened a few pebbles beneath her hooves, Lyra peered critically at the broken remains of the bridge hanging over the cliffside.

All that it’d require was a little focus, and she could magic her way forward. Maybe lift the opposite half of the bridge and join the pieces back together. Or, better yet, why not simply teleport?

Lyra wetted her lips, feeling a bead of sweat on her forehead. ‘Well, no shame in trying.’

Taking a cautious step back, she gritted her teeth, willing the spark to form at the tip of her horn. With concentration, a fleck of gold appeared, channelling the magical energy stored within her body from birth as a unicorn. Most unicorns specialised in two or three spells at most, and teleportation was notoriously difficult, but she’d been to Celestia’s School. She could do this.

“C’mon, Lyra,” she muttered, silently cursing herself as a fool for cutting class. “You’ll do fine, just think happy thoughts.”

That had been her Headmaster’s advice at the old school. Nice as Equestria was, sometimes she felt that ‘good cheer’ and positivity were treated as a bit too much of an all-purpose solution. She wasn’t sure they were doing much to help at this moment.

They had done only so much for her, after she got released from the Changeling Queen’s control.

Needles pricked her brain as the unwanted memory washed over her, and her spark died. Groaning, Lyra clutched at her forehead, feeling herself teeter on her three hooves, suddenly very conscious of how the sheer drop yawed ahead.

After living for years in a town where assaults from strange beasts were a fact of life, to have experienced such a close brush with doom back at her home city sent fear rippling down her coat. Although, as always, things had ended happily, the Royal Wedding a roaring success, a piece of her heart would ever carry the burden of knowing she’d been placed in thrall to a devil.

‘Think... happy thoughts…’ Lyra urged herself. ‘Sunshine and rainbows...’

Bonbon had been there to comfort her, in the night after, and for many nights beyond.

Such grand music Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch had made for the wedding.

The train ride in the company of Twilight and friends back to Ponyville.

… And it had been sort of interesting to meet a new species.

‘That’s better.’

With a raise of her head, Lyra smiled a little as she felt the spark reignite atop her horn. Confidence flooded her, confidence that nothing would, or could, ever keep her down for long. She was a mare of simple tastes, leading her own small life, content to leave duty to others, but none may call her idle, although they often did. When she wanted something dearly, she’d climb mountains for it. Or cross chasms, as the case may be.

Fueled by such thoughts, the picture of where she wished her magic to lead her coalesced within her mind, and a golden aura enveloped all of her. She closed her eyes at the brightness, feeling her body momentarily grow weightless in the space between spaces.

When she next opened her eyes, Lyra was surprised to be standing at the bottom of the chasm.

Freeverse.

Twilightsighed as she heard the sound of hooves galloping towards her. She had still yet to finish her letter (just how did you mention that you made a diplomatic decision unilaterally without so much as consulting the Mayor?), but if somepony needed her help, she had no issues with doing so.

“Hey, Twilight! Twilight!”

‘On second thoughts…’

She looked up to see Lyra Heartstrings catching her breath.

“Hi, Lyra,” Twilight said. Lyra Heartstrings was an odd mare, to say the least – convinced of wild theories and the existence of impossible creatures. She and Twilight has clashed on more than a few theories over the course of Twilight’s time in Ponyville.

Lyra grinned. “You’ll never believe what I just saw.”

“What?” Twilight asked, feeling a mite impatient.

“There was a human at the edge of the Everfree Forest!” Lyra grinned.

Twilight blinked for a moment, taking in the words that she had just heard, but somehow she didn’t register it properly.

“I’m… what? A what?” she asked, the words stumbling out of her mouth.

“A human!” Lyra repeated. “Came out of the Everfree! It’s hurt, we’ve got to help it!”

“That… seems unlikely,” Twilight said slowly. “For it to be a human, I mean-”

“And that’s what I said about Nightmare Moon,” Lyra said. “And look at you now! You know what Pinkie says -”

She took a deep breath, and her horn glowed. There was a sort of pinkish shimmer over her body.

“Pony legend is usually true, and most often painful!” she chirped, imitating Ponyville’s premier party pony.

“What about the legend of the Ponies With The Mouths of Ducks?” Twilight asked.

“That’s a horrible legend and we should never speak of it, ever again,” Lyra said. “That was definitely false, and we’re all happier not thinking about it. Unlike the human that’s right here, and you gotta see it now, Twilight, you gotta, how’d he even get here and I’m so excited-”

“Lyra-“

Twilight shook her head slightly, but Lyra was already dashing off, back in the direction she had come from. One part of the maddened-sounding gabble had been distinct, at least.

Whatever Lyra thought she’d encountered, it was injured.

‘And here I thought today would be relaxing.’

Harmoniverse.

“Now how’d I get down here?” Lyra grumbled aloud. “And how do I get out?”

There had to be a mishap in the magic. She’d wanted to transport herself to the other side, not wind up caught slap-bang between two cliffsides, a rock and a hard place, whichever was which. Vaguely, she supposed it was lucky she hadn’t utterly missed her mark and teleported in mid-air. Without any clouds to catch her, the fall would have been cruel.

‘Maybe I could create some stairs?’ Lyra thought, looking towards a large, flat brown rock. ‘Just one rock in front of the other, and I’ll be fine. Easy as piling oats.’

She took a deep breath, imagined holding the rock, and felt her magic grip it...

The rock shattered to powder underneath her grip.

‘What!’

Lyra had barely touched it with her TK. Barely even felt it in her magic. Either that had been particularly weak sandstone, or something weird was happening.

Her eyes darted the dry canyon bed for another rock, finally settling on something sturdier. Limestone, by the looks of it. A small slab, just to test it out. Tongue sticking out, she tried again, feeling her magic wrap around the rock, ready to lift. Except this time, whereas her magic had pulverised the first rock, this time, she could barely hold onto it. It was as if the rock weighed about fifty pounds more than it should.

‘This doesn’t make any sense. Every teacher said I had above-average precision, whatever that means. So how’m I doing this? Something has to be wrong with...’

Lyra froze, and let the rock drop to the ground.

‘The magic.’

Something hadn’t felt right when she’d tried out teleportation. When she’d lifted the first rock, she had gripped too hard without intending to. Now she was unable to lift something that, by all rights, ought to have been a piece of cake. What could have–

Lyra turned, heart caught in her throat.

There was something on the air; a kind of humming which had gotten stronger after her attempt to move the rock. She could almost, not quite hear it, but feel it. It wasn’t a noise. It was more as if someone had tapped a tuning fork to a rock, and Lyra’s horn was vibrating in tune with it.

‘Magical fluctuation!’ she thought, harried. ‘Oh, this could be bad! This could be very bad! Is it Saturday already?’

Twitching, she looked all around for a way out of the chasm.

Instinct took over. Barely checking to ensure she still had her saddle-bags and everything she needed inside, Lyra fled. She galloped as far away as she could from where she’d appeared, winding down what path the chasm’s had to offer, in desperate hope of finding some way out.

After a few moments, she caught a glimmer of… something, only to find herself near what looked like some kind of natural rock formation, not unlike a staircase.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lyra breathed out, panting. “Didn’t expect finding a way’d be that easy.”

Before she could climb the stairs, however, the light caught her eye again. It was glimmering from the inside of a cave a little way from the bottom of the ‘stairs’.

Curious, Lyra began trotting towards it.

‘Some sort of natural crystal formation?’ she postulated innerly.

The cave was deep, but it didn’t take her long to find the source of the light. Her eyes widened with wonder as they beheld a most extraordinary sight.

It looked, to all intents and purposes, like a giant tree. But not just any tree. This one, majestic and towering within its lonely cavern, had apparently grown from the living crystal, sprouting five jagged branches which embossed at the ends by diamonds of different colours. Colours that looked oddly familiar to Lyra, though she couldn’t quite place them. At the heart of this tree in which the crystalline formations of the branches met, where a knothole might have been found upon an ordinary tree, was an arrangement not unlike a star.

‘Not unlike Twilight’s mark,’ some part of her mind thought, unbidden.

Below that, strangest of all, between the roots, were the imprints of the Sun and the Moon.

“Is it… you?” Lyra asked aloud, looking at the tree. “Are you the source of the magical disturbance?”

She felt almost stupid for talking to it, but reassured herself - there were many entities that existed within otherwise static objects.

The tree scintillated, twinkling as if in reply.

“Why?” Lyra asked simply. “Why am I…?”

There was a sudden rumble. Lyra turned around, frowning, before looking back at the tree. Another rumble came, stronger than the last one, and then another.

‘Is the cavern unstable?’ Lyra wondered, taking a step back.

Suddenly there was a flash of what almost looked like lightning, and Lyra jumped.

“What was that?!” she yelled, more out of reflex than anything.

Another flash lashed out, seemingly from nowhere, and then another. Lyra backed away, feeling the urge to run, but something compelled her to stay – whether fear or morbid curiosity, she couldn’t say.

The flashes continued, one after the other, then more, until in a sudden blaze of light there was a flash that filled the cavern, and when it receded, a figure was standing in front of the tree. It was dressed in a simple shirt, with a long metallic… something slung over its shoulder. A pair of daggers was sheathed as its side, as well as some sort of wooden and metal thing popped in a holster on its hip. It looked like a crossbow, but without the limbs. Didn’t the Griffons have something like that? But this was so much smaller...

Lyra blinked at it. ‘Bipedal. Clothes. Mostly hairless, except–’

“Lyra?” it said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Lyra said. “Who are you?”

“It’s me,” the thing said, stepping into the light. And Lyra could see that, beyond a doubt, it was a human.

“It’s me,” the thing - the human - said. “David Elliot. I was worried I might never see you again, after… but… hey, here you are.” He looked around. “Wherever here is…”

“What?” Lyra asked, looking up at him. “I… I’ve never met you before. I don’t-”

A look of what could have only been pure confusion spread across the human’s face.

“Well,” the human said. “This was not where any of us expected me to end up.”

Author's Note

IT'S BACK, BABY