Chapters I.
MANEHATTAN! The strong and rich eastern port city of Equestria, home to gleaming silver skyscrapers of steel and glass and concrete, clawing their way into the blue skies and white clouds, surrounded by the grey asphalt roads...and behind the facade of wealth and power, wherein the moneyed ponies live, the dark underground where the less-fortunate scrape out a meagre existence amidst poverty, drugs, and crime.
Manehattan sits at the edge of a harbor, which gives the city control over a great deal of marine shipping, and it is also home to two of Equestria's stock exchanges, cementing its status as a major financial hub of the monarchy.
The Manehattan Advocate is one of the most prestigious newspapers of the city. Some wags like to make jokes about 'its liberal Manehattan slant', but it sells well and covers most pressing issues.
Its headquarters are in one of the skyscrapers in the Upper East Side district of Manehattan.
In one of the offices of the Manehattan Advocate's building - a cramped little room with a desk, a task chair, filing cabinets, bare grey walls, a sharp fluorescent light that gave a hard, unwelcoming glare, and ugly brown carpeting, Applejack pushed a pen around her cluttered desk and sighed. The only good thing about her office was a nice, large window that offered an excellent view over the city skyline.
"I wonder what Applebloom an' Granny Smith an' Big Mac are up to..."
The blonde-maned, attractive, green-eyed, orange-coated Earth pony stopped playing with her pen, and picked up a picture of her family - all of the Earth pony race, looking at it.
Applebloom, a young, slender, light-yellow colored filly with a shiny red mane done up in a bow, Granny Smith, an elderly green mare with a grey mane, and Big Macintosh, a tall, heavily muscled stallion with a red coat and a short light-orange mane, were all smiling back at her brightly. Applebloom was waving. On the bottom right side of the picture was written in black marker: "Hope the new job goes well! We're all rooting for you! - APPLEBLOOM xoxo"
Just looking at Applebloom's big, round handwriting made Applejack even more homesick, and she put the picture down before she began to cry.
"I can't deal with this...I'm gonna go for a walk."
Applejack stood up and stretched. Even the new clothes she had to wear for her job got on her nerves. She hated wearing this stupid grey-and-white pantsuit and the glossy red high-heeled shoes were difficult to walk in. She especially felt odd without her Stetson hat.
Applejack barely got into the hallway before another mare swooped down on her - one of the typical Manehattan city slickers who talked at a breakneck pace and seemed to have an opinion on everything, Applejack reflected to herself bitterly.
It was one of her co-workers, another young attractive Pegasus with bright green mane-hair, maliciously glittering purple eyes, and a powder blue coat, wearing an excessively tight red-and-black suit that hugged the curves of her hip and chest.
"Hiya, Stellaria," Applejack said, not really wanting to talk, but she forced herself to go through the effort anyway.
Stellaria began to talk without really listening to her.
"Hey there! Going to go stretch your legs? Sweet! So, like, if you're going outside, coulja stop by the Starbucks on your way there? Me and the other girls are, like, simply _dying_ for a Pumpkin Spice latte, and it's that time of the year, so if you could just grab a few on your way out there, that'd be really great! Okay, we're gonna get back on proofreading this article so I'll let you go, but don't spend too much time out there or Mrs. Graph is probably going to dock your pay again and I'm sure you can't afford that right now. All right? All right! See ya! Don't forget those lattes, AJ!"
She squeezed Applejack's shoulder in a very rude and familiar way, and then dashed off back to her office, slamming the door. Applejack heard her giggling behind the door.
"Who was that?" a very firm, masculine voice, obviously that of a stallion, asked.
"That new girl from the country. I got her to get me and the other girls some drinks while she's wandering around. You know these country types. So weird! Ugh! Anyway, where were we?"
"Lie down here and be quiet for a moment," the stallion in Stellaria's room said.
Applejack strode away scornfully without stopping to listen further.
In the depths of Manehattan's ghetto, in one of the dilapidated brownstone tenement apartments, three ne'er-do-wells - a young, wild-eyed Zebra mare, a strong young Male human, and an athletic Pegasus colt - were watching a tablet computer's live video feed.
A stern-looking Pegasus mare with iron-grey hair, sharp red eyes, and eyeglasses was relaying information to them.
"...I've already prepared everything for you, so all you have to do make your way to the Financial district."
"Great! I can't wait to put paid to some of those rich, privileged bastards, Professor," the Zebra mare declared. She was wearing a tight black bodysuit that accentuated the curves of her slender female physique, leather boots, a leather bomber jacket, and fingerless gloves. A facial veil hid her muzzle and her coarse black-and-white mane.
The Professor - for that was what the severe Pegasus mare was called - glared at the Zebra mare irritably. "Damn you, Alsvid, it's just a heist operation, not a bloodbath! Control yourself! Why I even assigned you to this team is a mystery unknown even to me."
"I'm the best driver you've got," Alsvid boasted. "Plus, I'm a crack shot. Any police officers get in my way, I'm going to blow the accursed pig bastards to smithereens."
"There's no need to do that, Alsvid! They're normal ponies with lives and families...." Shadow protested.
"Yes, Shadow, I know that. They're also frontline soldiers of the oppressive upper classes and traitors to our cause, as well. If they really loved their families, they wouldn't do a scummy job like being a damn pig officer. Besides, don't you think the ponies that get hurt by the police have families too? You should tell the police that...or don't. You'd get hurt, or killed," Alsvid said. "Seriously. They would kill you just for saying something to them, and then scream about how you were threatening their lives. Don't actually do the thing I said."
"Would...would they really?" Shadow said, sounding unsure. "Leo, would they really do that?" he said, turning to the human male.
"You're damn right they would," Leo said, unsmiling. He radiated danger and raw power, and was merely watching the banter between Alsvid and Shadow with an ominous silence. "I've personally encountered them doing that."
The tall, muscular human male with short, raven-black hair reached out with one hand and ruffled Shadow's mane. He was wearing a black leather jacket and nothing else over the hard, muscular topography of his upper body, displaying the raw energy of his sharply defined abdominal and pectoral muscles. The red jewel in his chest - about the size of a handspan - gleamed. Below, he wore blue jeans that barely seemed capable of confining his strong thighs, and brown leather boots.
"Silence!" the Professor growled, interceding in the discussion. "And, remember, if any of you squeal, I'll kill you myself. I don't need to tell the rest of you, but you're new here, Shadow, so I'll give you fair warning."
Shadow, the athletic Pegasus colt, shrugged. "Hadn't even planned on doing it. I'm not that kind of pony, anyway. I've got more principles than that. The one thing I pride myself on is my loyalty." He was wearing a form-fitting black compression t-shirt that clung to his bicep and abdominal muscles, leaving the rest of his arms bare, short grey workout pants, and "AIR PEGASUS" shoes in blue and black.
"Good. I'm counting on you, Shadow. The rest of you, be careful. You're no good to me dead. I'll speak to you later."
The Professor disappeared from the tablet's screen.
FOUR HOURS EARLIER...
Jane Pierpoint Morgan owns an office suite at the topmost floor of the J.P Morgan Building in Manehattan's Financial District where she is attended to by her array of aides and domestic servants. Floor-to-ceiling, bulletproof glass panes offer an impressive skyline view of Manehattan.
Her office is vast, as befitting a popular, extremely successful, powerful Equestrian capitalist such as herself; her chair is a huge leather affair decorated with gold, towering behind her like a throne. Her office and its regalia are all testament to her financial gains.
Her desk is a gigantic mahogany object polished to a sheen, with a green-shaded banker’s lamp made of gold. Her inbox and outbox trays are solid steel. Her documents are fastidiously organized. She owns a classic gold fountain pen and ink, and her own personal ink stamp to verify her identity.
Her PC is an impressive piece of machinery; a Grapefruit G8 all-in-one with a 40-inch display, and a proprietary VR headset.
Her office floor is covered in dark wine-red carpeting, lit by unobtrusive ensconced LED lights that throw a warm, pleasant light. The far side of the wall opposing her desk is host to an array of 62-inch LED displays showing the Equestrian Stock Exchange, a live news feed from a popular Equestrian news channel, and a instantly updated overview of the global financial markets.
Bookshelves with heavy leather tomes cover the eastern wall of her office. A globe about as high as a stallion stands in the corner. A larger-than-life marble sculpture corner of the Princess Celestia in a contemplative pose, clad in a flowing white robe, dominates the opposite corner. It is so finely carved that its surface is smooth to the touch, its subject seeming almost to breathe, as though it were upon the verge of rising from its plinth and approaching the viewer.
Jane’s personal maid, a tiny little Unicorn filly, approximately eight or nine years old, with a bright pink mane and a yellow coat, a youthful body with slender hips and shoulders, chubby, yet strong little arms and legs, a round, wide-eyed face, clad in a beautiful, frilly white-and-black maid uniform with a knee-high dress, is pouring her a fresh cup of tea from an elegant blue-and-white fine China tea set sitting on a tea table nearby.
Behind Jane, at her right, is a ceiling-high curio cabinet displaying many small works of art - finely wrought silverware, sculptures, jewelry, knives, vizards (an antiquated term for a mask), and maps.
On the western wall of her office is a large portrait painting of a old Unicorn stallion with a huge, muscular body and a cruel, sharp face lined with age, frowning intently with his bushy grey brows. He did not appear to be the sort of person who can be reasoned with; the barely contained swells of muscle placing tension upon his suit and his large, powerful hands imply that he was once capable of badly injuring smaller ponies, perhaps even killing them, without the aid of a weapon.
He is wearing a bespoke black business suit and a black silk top hat. Underneath the portrait is a gold plaque reading “JULIUS PIERPOINT MORGAN - FOUNDER OF J.P. MORGAN CO.”
Jane P. Morgan, Julius’s offspring, is reclining luxuriously in her office chair; she is a young Unicorn mare, barely out of her filly stage, slender-bodied, narrow-waisted, wide-hipped, small of shoulder, with firm thighs, and strong, slender arms.
Her long, elegantly styled blonde mane, adorned with a large white ribbon about reaching nearly down to her lower back. It shines like spun gold in a brilliant contrast with her light grey coat accentuated by her flamboyant green and gold dress bedecked with fine satin, lace, and large silken frills, exposing the heavy, round swells of her grey-coated breasts, the firm, nubile expanses of her silky thighs, her small shoulders and upper arms.
Jane’s green leather high-heeled boots are wickedly sharp, with six-inch high, gleaming steel spikes for heels, reaching nearly up to her thigh. Her neck, fingers, and wrists are covered in glittering 18 karat gold jewelry, finely-wrought, understated pieces of artwork that accentuate her natural beauty instead of distracting from it.
She has razor-sharp yellow eyes, large and liquid and utterly unyielding.
Jane lifts one elegantly silk-gloved hand, extending her long, ladylike fingers in a luxurious gesture.
“What’s next on our agenda, Advantage?”
Competitive Advantage, Jane’s secretary, steps forward. She is a Unicorn mare a little older than Jane, taller by a head, utterly forbidding in her demeanor, with hooded, narrow turquoise eyes and ruby-red lips bearing the merest trace of a self-assured smirk. Her waist-length red mane cascades down her back and upper shoulders, secured with a white ribbon at the top of her head, contrasting with her pink coat.
She is quite lean and svelte in figure, with a slender body, a perfectly flat stomach, long legs and arms, and her uniform quite compliments her trim figure. She is resplendent in a silky black frock-coat with white trimming, a white leather collar, a thigh-high black tube skirt, black stockings, and black leather high-heels.
Upon approaching Jane’s desk, she defers to her superior with a sweeping bow, inclining her upper body with a flourish, then straightening.
“Yes, my lady! Next is your meeting with the Vanguard Financial Group.”
Jane leans back in her chair, steepling her slender, ladylike fingers; she narrows her eyes, smiling confidently.
“Ah, yes. Those second-rate bankers.” A note of displeasure creeps into Jane’s voice. “May I ask why I am being troubled by them? I was led to believe that our hostile takeover of their firm had been all but secured and that no further negotiation was necessary. Why do they continue to persist in this foolish endeavor?”
Competitive Advantage, sensing discomfort, hastens to explain herself in the fluid, utterly reflexive manner of a highly trained business secretary.
“My lady, the CEO thought it best that he discuss the matter in person with you. He insisted that nothing would do but that you receive him as a guest. I don’t know why he’s continuing to resist; your Legal Operations Department has already firmly encircled him and purchased majority share in his firm from their respective stockholders at a price far above what it was worth, in my professional opinion, if I may be allowed to mention it…”
“Continue,” Jane says, in a bored voice, half-lidding her large, beautiful yellow eyes.
“...that said, it grieves me to besmirch your noble office with his presence, but there was nothing for it and I was all but forced to concede to his demands.”
“Is that so?” Jane arches one perfect blonde eyebrow. “Well, we shall make him regret it fully. I had originally intended to be merciful; that time is now past. I shall take everything from him and leave him with nothing. He will learn what it means to cross me. Erytheia!”
“Yes, my lady?” The tiny Earth filly maid at Jane’s side perks up.
“Watch this closely. I’m about to show you my true power.” Jane laughs; her voice is a gentle, musical, fluting sound, refined and proper in its carefully neutral Middle Equestrian accenting.
“Advantage, go see to it that our guests are properly escorted to my office. Summon my private security detail and my Director of Legal Operations as well.”
Advantage, who is already making her way down to the doors at the far end of the office, pauses in her tracks. “Oho.” She smiles. “You’re really doing it, then, my Lady?”
“Of course.” Jane accepts her teacup from Erytheia and brings it to her soft, pillowy lips, taking a delicate little sip. She swallows slowly, her slender throat bobbing up and down. “Are you questioning me?”
“Not at all, my Lady!” Competitive Advantage hastens to assure her, bowing very deeply. “I meant no offense.”
Jane eyes her thoughtfully. Placing her cup back upon its saucer, she continues.
“I shall overlook your breach of protocol for now, Miss Advantage.”
“Thank you, my Lady.”
“Since you’ve been so nice, I’ll elaborate further. I shall strike such fear into their hearts that they will leave here permanently changed. They will surrender entirely to me and I shall acquire every single last bit of their capital. It will be a glorious victory for J. P. Morgan, as expected. No one can withstand my ability. They will turn violent, as I expect from these lowlives, and I shall have them restrained.”
Jane pauses for a moment; her aides and attendants watch her expectantly.
“I do so love restraining others,” Jane says. Her lips part; she runs her long, muscular pink tongue over her flawless white teeth.
Competitive Advantage’s cheeks darken slightly at this. Little Erytheia blinks innocently.
Jane rises from her chair slightly, narrowing her eyes, baring her teeth. “Well? What are you waiting for? Hurry up!” Jane commands her secretary. “I’d like to conclude this matter swiftly.”
“I apologize, my Lady. At once, my Lady!” Advantage hastens to obey, exiting the room with a purposeful stride.
Jane settles back in her chair and resumes once more her task of fully enjoying her tea. She lifts the cup, inhaling the gentle aroma. “Orange pekoe? Very good, Erytheia. You chose splendidly. I shall reward you for this.”
Erytheia responds with a small curtsey. “Thank you, my Lady.”
Jane crosses one elegant, slender leg over the other in a restrained, measured movement, and resumes watching the news channel, where an excited-looking young Earth pony mare, her mane perfectly coiffed, resplendent in a white suit, flanked by a young Pegasus stallion, is jabbering rapidly at her audience from behind a desk.
“..the protests calling upon the Manehattan Mayor to raise the minimum wage have erupted in violent rioting, with some masked protesters breaking windows in the district and setting fire to trashcans! Manehattan Law Enforcement responded swiftly, using water cannons and pepper spray to quell the riots.”
Images of Manehattan Law Enforcement officer ponies, resplendent in the latest, high-tech riot control gear, backed up by large armored personnel vehicles bristling with water cannons, raising their weapons to attack a knot of protesting ponies, occupy the screen behind the news reporters.
The Pegasus stallion at her side smirks. “Quite a story, Rosetta. Of course, now we’ve got to wonder why these rioters can’t just go get jobs. Surely they’ve got enough free time to submit applications if they can stand around protesting…”
Jane frowns ever so slightly, placing her cup back upon its saucer. “If it were up to me, I’d have those rioters all shot,” she remarks, her voice dripping scorn. “As far as I’m concerned, the accursed law enforcement is too soft. We need more law and order. We need a tougher police force that isn’t scared to dirty its hands in repelling the attacks of these criminals.”
“Really, my Lady?” Erytheia responds, wide-eyed.
“Indeed.” Jane’s frown darkens, her beautiful blonde brows furrowing. “The Mayor of Manehattan is a disgrace to her office for even allowing these verminous filth to dirty up our city streets with their ilk. I may just see to it that she is ousted from her position if she continues to upset me.”
Jane sets her teacup and saucer upon her desk, and grins. “Perhaps I might arrange something more serious, depending on my mood.” Her yellow eyes gleam.
She assumes a thoughtful pose, one elegant hand upon her cheek. So engrossed in her own malevolent thoughts is she that when someone knocks on her door, she jumps slightly, and then promptly glares at poor little Erytheia, frustrated that someone saw her lose her facade of calm, even for a second.
“Go and answer the door! What am I paying you for? Your good looks?” Jane commands.
“At once, my Lady!” Erytheia trots over to the door, opening it and peeking outside. “Amicus Curiae, Director of Legal Operations, to see you, my lady.”
Amicus Curiae, a svelte, attractive young Unicorn mare with piercing blue eyes and a waist-length platinum blonde mane, strides in, resplendent in a red-and-gold cape, a white, tight-fitting bodysuit that hugs the curves of her breasts and rump, her slim thighs and arms, and black leather elbow-length gloves. She is wearing a Germane Empire-era Pickelhaube helmet, wrought of steel and decorated with gold.
Upon entering, she approaches Jane’s desk and bows very low, doffing her helmet and tossing her head, setting her long blonde mane flowing about her shoulders. “Good morning, my Lady. You wished to see me?”
“Yes. There’s some work you’ve left unfinished, Miss Curiae.”
Amicus gasps. “My...my lady?”
“That merger with Vanguard. It would seem as though your efforts have been repelled to a certain degree, forcing me to attend to the matter personally. I admit, I was looking for an excuse to leave my seaside manor, but this crime-ridden, verminous garbage heap of a city is hardly what I would call ideal, wouldn’t you agree?”
Amicus grits her teeth, her gloved hands curling into fists. “Yes, my Lady! I apologize for my oversight, my Lady.”
Jane grins, closing one eye. “No, you have done well, my trap. You are not at fault for Vanguard’s persistence in their failure.”
“Even so, my Lady...I shall rectify this issue immediately! I admit, I am somewhat taken aback...I was certain that Vanguard would fall, as all the other banks had before your withering assault…”
“Assault is such an ugly word, Miss Curiae. I prefer the term “friendly acquisition.” Our friends in the mainstream Equestrian media no doubt agree.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Jane swirls her teacup about, watching the liquid within stir. “I suppose I shall overlook your error for now. You shall have your chance to counter-attack very shortly.”
“Thank you, my Lady. ”
Jane nods, and drains her teacup, placing it upon Erytheia’s tray with her saucer. “A fresh cup,” she orders, to nobody in particular. Erytheia hastens to obey, instantly preparing a new cup for Jane. “Here, my Lady.”
“Splendid.” Jane accepts the proffered cup, settling back in her chair.
The chastened Amicus takes up a seat at Jane’s right hand side.
There is another gentle tap at Jane’s door. Erytheia trots over to the door in a hasty clippety-clop, her skirts all a-flutter.
“Your secretary and the Vanguard Financial Group have returned. Shall I let them in, my Lady?”
“You may,” Jane commands.
Competitive Advantage enters, taking up her place at Jane’s side once again, with the air of somepony about to watch a professional sporting match.
A middle-aged Earth pony stallion with a brown coat and a short red mane, looming an entire two heads over Competitive Advantage, brawny and muscular, wide-chested, with arms and legs as thick and resilient as young trees sporting heavily developed biceps and quads, and a washboard stomach rippling with hard, defined abdominals, clad in heavy grey plate armor that makes his huge frame seem even larger, storms into the office, his iron-shod hooves thundering upon the floor. He is heavily armed; a greatsword hangs over his back.
He is followed by a young Unicorn mare with a baby-blue coat and an even lighter blue mane reaching well down to her lower back.
She is wearing a steel Royal Guard helmet, a black leather bikini straining to contain the enormous swells of her breasts, a leather thong stretched taut around her rump (her cutie mark, a red gem on a white book, is left bare), and leather sandals; a blue cape completes her ensemble. She, too, is bearing arms - a bastard sword hangs at her hip. She is wearing an ostentatious pearl necklace, the large, lustrous beads pooling between her breasts.
An elderly Unicorn mare - so old her mane and coat are both gray - clad in a nightsky-blue hooded robe trails in their wake, leaning upon a staff.
Jane casts an amused eye over them. “Good morning. You must be the CEO of Vanguard, Gorlois Dux.”
The warlike Earth Pony stallion huffs sharply. “That would be me, yes. You must be the infamous Jane Morgan we’ve been hearing so much about.”
“And who might the bimbo in the black leather be?” Jane looks askance at the young Unicorn mare in Gorlois’s wake.
Before Gorlois can answer, the Unicorn mare opulently strides forward, her heavy breasts bouncing. She laughs scornfully behind one gloved hand.
“Ohohohohoho!”
Jane winces slightly at the Unicorn mare’s voice.
The Unicorn mare lets out another refined laugh. “Ahahahahaha! So, who is this reckless person who was FOALISH enough to challenge the most attractive, intelligent, and powerful secretary in all of Manehattan, Morgause Tintagel?”
Morgause crosses her arms under her breasts, and tilts her head back, sneering at Jane. “Oh, well, time to go to work. Please don’t take this personally, little girl. We’ve brought the Director of Legal Operations, Merilyn, to oversee this matter.”
She flings out one elegant, naked arm at the elderly Unicorn mare hobbling towards the desk.
“What, that skeleton? Where’d you dig up that old fossil?” Jane giggles.
Merilyn blinks at Jane slowly, through bleary brown eyes frosted with cataracts. She moves her toothless jaw slowly, and then finally speaks.
“Well, I never! You children today are so wicked! In my day, we respected our elders! I blame Princess Celestia for going too soft on you young ones, I swear, the day she issued the order to stop paddling your tiny backsides in school was the worst in Equestria’s history! You know, it doesn’t cost you a single penny to be polite to others, and with all your money, I daresay you needn’t be worried about that in the first place! I used to be young and attractive like you once!”
“Really?” Jane says. Gorlois crosses his arms over his wide chest; Morgause runs her hands over her long blue mane, grinning self-assuredly.
”You’re Celestia-damned right, child!” Merilyn continues, irritably. “In fact, I’d say I was better looking than you! It was not so long ago that I was acting under the orders of Princess Celestia herself…”
Merilyn extends one trembling, liver-spotted, claw-like hand. “Flashback spell!”
Instantly, the scene changed; they all found themselves standing in Princess Celestia’s throne room, as a young, effervescent Unicorn mare with a purple coat, her pink mane in long twin-tails, wearing a white tank-top baring her slim arms and flat belly, and skin-tight red leather hot-pants, approaches the throne.
“That’s you?!” Jane gasps.
“Yes!” Merilyn wheezes. “Surprised? I wasn’t born old, you know!”
“This is quite interesting!” Morgause remarks, eating a handful of popcorn from a bowl she had summoned. “You never told me you worked for the Princess, Merilyn.”
“You never asked, you young snip! That’s the problem with you young ponies; you don’t listen to anyone!”
Princess Celestia spoke.
“...and so, I order you to go to Ponyville and make friends with the locals there.”
“Must I, your Majesty?” the young Merilyn protested.
Princess Celestia smiled mysteriously. “You find your task difficult?”
“Not at all, your Majesty!” Merilyn assured her. “It’s just...Ponyville is so far away! I hardly think there is much opportunity there for me to advance my career…”
“Is that all you were worried about, Merilyn? Don’t be; there will be adequate challenges for you to conquer.”
“Really, your Majesty?”
“Of course. Would I ever lie, my precious student?”
“This is a familiar story,” Gorlois remarked, helping himself to Morgause’s popcorn.
Merilyn struck the floor with the butt of her walking staff; the illusion broke in an instant, and they all found themselves back in Jane’s office.
Jane yawned luxuriously behind one gloved hand. “Well, that was all very interesting, I’m sure…”
“Of course it was!” Merilyn admonished her. “I had my way with all the stallions and mares I could have possibly wanted back then...now just because I’m a little older than before you think you can disrespect me? I’ll put an end to all your mischief today, just see if I don’t! If I were a little younger, I’d put you over my knee and give you a proper thrashing! You’ll come to a sticky end one day, child, with all your bad attitude, and don’t think for one second that all your money will save you from your evil deeds.”
Competitive Advantage tilts her head back slightly, watching Morgause with a faint sneer playing about her lips and brows while Merilyn vents her spleen at Jane.
“Go on, then, you big lug!” Merilyn waves a shaky hand at Gorlois. “Do what you were going to do!”
Gorlois scowls darkly at Jane. “Right! Listen well to what I’m about to say, little girl.”
“Yes, listen to him! This is the prestigious CEO of Vanguard Financial speaking!” Morgause adds, grinning widely. Merilyn staggers over to a chair and plumps down in it; the elderly Unicorn mare does not seem well-suited to standing up for long.
Gorlois advances towards Jane’s desk, planting his armored fists upon it.
“I’ve watched you closely, Miss Morgan! You’ve been acquiring every single small bank in the Northeastern Equestrian region! What are you intending to do? Do you really think you can control the flow of capital in this area?”
Jane narrows her eyes. She bares her teeth in a grin.
“So tell me, Gorlois. Who would be better suited to the task than me? Why don’t you just give up now, swear fealty to me, and leave with the tiny shreds of dignity you so desperately cling to? Or are you too stupid to realize when you’ve been beaten? Must I spell it out for you? Your reign is over, Gorlois! Your precious Vanguard Financial Group has already been destroyed! You will surrender to J.P. Morgan Co.!”
“Enough of these stupid sayings!” Gorlois bellows at her, spit flying from his muzzle. “Are you even listening to yourself?! You think I’m going to let you do as you please? There are laws…”
“My money can overrule them.”
Gorlois chokes. “You...you...you can’t possibly be serious!”
“Oh, I am. In fact, once my plan has reached fruition, I shall become powerful enough to overthrow Princess Celestia herself!”
Jane takes an elegant little sip of tea. Her long pink tongue runs over her lips slowly.
“Consider this; the Princess Celestia has idiotically spelled her own doom by allowing the acquisition of capital. The moment she minted the first bit, she ended her legacy and opened the door for powerful capitalists like myself to take control of Equestria. Dimwits like you, Gorlois, are wasting your true potential by failing to acquire every single bit of capital that lies before you. Who do you think owns the taxi companies in Manehattan? The supermarkets? In an instant I can prevent all of Manehattan from eating, if I desire it! With a single stroke of my pen, I can close the ports and prevent anyone from exiting or entering the city! Who did you think was the authority here? The mayor?”
Jane snorted, to show what she thought of that. “No, the real authority here is my company. Your first mistake, Gorlois, was your complete and utter ineptitude regarding the nature of your opponent. I intend to challenge Princess Celestia herself and reshape this world so that finance controls everything. No Princesses, no royalty; only the Bank of Equestria and everything that belongs to it.”
Morgause covers her mouth with her hands, utterly shocked at this practically heretical statement. Merilyn presses one thin hand to her ribcage and collapses to the floor.
“Merilyn! Are you all right? Quick, a revival spell…!” Morgause claps her hands together, her horn glowing, and then presses her hands to Merilyn’s aged chest. The elderly Unicorn mare’s eyes flutter open. “Where...what…?” she murmurs weakly.
Jane grins. “Gorlois, it would seem as though your legal defenses have fallen apart. Why do you insist on fighting me? Even with all your power…”
She sets her teacup and saucer upon her desk, and leans forward, resting her elegant chin in one hand.
“...you won’t be able to defeat me. Please give up. You have nothing left.”
Unbidden, Amicus Curiae strides forth, placing a stack of legal documents on the table before Gorlois.
“There’s a list of statements from all your stockholders declaring their intent to sell their shares to J.P. Morgan Co. While you were bloviating and bellowing your fury at Lady Jane, your company was being sold from underneath you. You were tricked, Gorlois! While your attentions were elsewhere, we have already completed our acquisition of your financial firm.”
Gorlois slams one huge fist upon Jane’s desk. “No! I won’t give in!”
“Why?” Jane asks, wholly curious.
“Somepony has to stand up to you!” Gorlois points his armored hand at her. “You can’t go unopposed!”
“Oh, I’m sure. It won’t be you, though.”
Morgause timidly grasps Gorlois’s upper arm. “Hadn’t we better do as she says, dear? I don’t think we can fight this thing…”
“I’m gonna fight this thing, Morgause.”
“Please don’t, Gorlois.”
“You should listen to your secretary, Gorlois,” Jane advises them both. “I wonder who is really operating Vanguard Financial, now that I come to think of it. It certainly can’t be you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gorlois bellows at her.
Jane settles back in her chair, crossing one elegant thigh over the other slowly. “I mean that you’re too stupid to have possibly made all the decisions in your company. Say what you want about me, but I don’t hide behind my secretary’s skirt. Or, in your case, her micro-sized leather thong. By the way, does your wife know about her?”
Gorlois pales. “You...you wouldn’t dare…”
Jane grins. “Ah, so you have, in fact, committed a few indiscretions with Morgause. That alone was obvious the moment I laid eyes on that brainless bimbo you tote around with you.”
Morgause shrieks with rage. “Now listen here, you flat-chested little-”
“Quiet, you. Or would you like me to inform your husband about your midnight soirees with your boss?”
Morgause turns pale. Jane grins, draining her teacup.
“You look tense, Morgause. Is it because you’re tired?”
“Tired? Of what?”
“Of spreading your thighs all the time.”
Morgause lifts her hands over her head. “All right! That’s it! I’ve had enough of your mouth, missy!”
“Oh? Aren’t you used to having strange ponies put their mouths on you?”
Morgause’s hands and horn glow. “We’ll see about that! Fire-”
“Security…” Jane says, almost sounding bored.
The doors blow open. Six huge, muscular Pegasus mares barge in; they are taller than Gorlois by almost half a head. They make an utterly terrifying sight in their all-black military fatigues, knee-pads, bulletproof vests, jackboots, helmets, goggles, gloves, and radio units.
In seconds, one of them has grasped Morgause’s arms and wrenched them back down.
Morgause starts to cry. “Don’t! Please...you’re hurting me!”
“Be quiet!” the mare holding her screams into her ears.
“I believe I’ve made my point crystal clear, Morgause. Release her,” Jane orders her security detail.
The Pegasus mare complies, though not before pushing Morgause to her knees before Jane.
“Now, consider this, Gorlois,” Jane says, standing up from her chair. “I could command my security detail to beat the two of you to death, and nobody would hold me accountable. In fact, I could even have my personal news agency depict the two of you as violent, insane criminals who accosted me in my office, and I’d be lauded a heroine for bringing your crime spree to a halt.”
She leans over her desk, pointing at the stricken Morgause, who has curled up into the fetal position, still crying.
“Your little ones will grow up without a mother. Your husband will blame himself. He will start to drink heavily and take risks with his life. Perhaps he’ll fly into a mountain while drunk at full speed and break his neck, or he’ll probably even just actually kill himself one day when everything looks absolutely hopeless.”
Jane rounds on Gorlois. “And what about your wife? Can she handle the strain of raising your spoilt brats alone? Without the power of Vanguard Financial Group, she’ll probably end up turning tricks in a dark alleyway and then die herself from some unfortunate accident.”
She pokes at Gorlois’s breastplate armor; her horn glows briefly. Gorlois’s breastplate shatters, falling upon the floor in two equal halves, leaving his powerful upper chest bare.
Jane runs her fingertips over the bare flesh of Gorlois’s steely pectoral muscle, her eyes narrowing. Gorlois shudders, and recoils from Jane’s touch.
“Speaking of accidents,” Jane continues, “Who’s to say that, perhaps, a brake line on your company vehicle won’t mysteriously spring a leak while you’re going home tonight, Gorlois?”
Gorlois withdraws entirely. “No more. Please. I beg of you. I was wrong! You can have my firm.”
“Of course you were,” Jane says, sitting back in her chair. “Miss Curiae, my pen, if you would be so kind, and the documentation affirming our acquisition of your firm.”
Gorlois signs the papers like a stallion half-dead. He has an utterly blank look in his eyes.
“Thank you,” Jane says with tremendous irony. She produces a cigarette; Amicus, Erytheia, and Competitive all rush to offer a light. Jane observes them carefully, and finally chooses Amicus’s lighter. She draws in a deep lungful of smoke, exhaling it slowly in a fine blue cloud. Already she has returned to watching the news channel on her array of screens at the far end of the room.
Gorlois picks up the still shellshocked Morgause. “Come, Morgause. We’re leaving.”
“To where?” Morgause whimpers.
“I just want to be away from her.” It is obvious who “her” is.
Morgause closes her eyes as Gorlois leaves the room.
Merilyn laboriously rises to her hooves. “As usual, everyone forgot about me. That’s the curse of old age for you…”
On her way out, she faces Jane boldly. One of the heavily muscled, giant Private Security Detail Pegasus mares advances on her, raising one huge hand. “No closer!”
Merilyn stares at the security guard levelly. “What, afraid of an old mare like me, little one? You needn’t worry. I don’t go in much for hand-to-hand combat these days.”
Chastened, the security guard retreats, blushing furiously.
Merilyn brushes herself off with one trembling hand, leaning on her staff. “May I ask a question, your Royal Highness?” she chirrups, her voice thick with irony.
Jane laughs. “You’ve got a lot of grit, old-timer. I might just hire you if you don’t keel over in the next year…”
“I ain’t dead yet!” Merilyn shouts. “I wouldn’t work for you anyway, you little snip! Princess Celestia made us do things without insulting us. I don’t see why you’ve got to be so offensive. It’s not very nice. Anyway, why is it that almost all of your aides are Unicorns?”
Jane stares at her levelly for an entire minute before answering.
“Because Unicorns are Superior to all other races, of course!”
Merilyn gazes back at her impassively; her expression is utterly neutral, impassive.
At length she responds, in flat tones.
“Oh, you’re one of those. You’re not very smart, are you? Ah, well...you’ll grow up eventually. If you even live that long.”
“What does that mean?” Jane asked her, peevishly.
“Figure it out yourself, o superior being.” Merilyn left, closing the door behind her.
Jane scowls, and throws her pen at Merilyn’s retreating back, but only succeeds in hitting the door.
“Damn her! How dare she threaten me?!” Jane fumes.
Competitive Advantage places a hand on Jane’s naked shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, my Lady. We have won; that is all that matters.”
“Yes. Still…” Jane looks pensive.
Author's Note
So, hi, hello! What was supposed to be a quick introductory scene at first became a very complex one, a sort of frame story for the entire fic explaining the nature of the Manehattan and by association the Equestria within.
Therefore, we now go backwards in time and get acquainted with this city; first by examining one of the ponies who really runs the city. She should remind you of a number of people and ponies. She's a very familiar figure and quite similar to many characters - real and fictional - that we are currently facing in our daily lives.
The Royal University of Manehattan is the oldest and most prestigious academic institution the city has to offer, established by the Princess Celestia’s own royal charter. With an acceptance rate of 5.8%, it is the third most selective university in all of Equestria and the second most selective university in the Crown League, with a reputation, carefully cultivated, for being the repose of the social upper classes in the city.
It rests upon forty acres of land in the center of Manehattan, a tiny academic fortress in and of itself, comprised of soaring Gothic architecture with ivy-covered, stout grey stone walls and forbidding grey spires.
In one of the university’s many courtyards, two students - a blue-maned, white-coated Unicorn mare and a red-maned, pink-coated Earth pony mare - are bitterly fighting, amidst a small audience; the Earth pony mare has her opponent pinned between her slender thighs, while she rains a furious flurry of punches at the Unicorn mare’s muzzle; the Unicorn mare hits her with a blast of bright blue magic, stunning her, filling the air with a deep, resonant sound that is more felt than heard - a low, concussive note, a shockwave, like that of a distant explosion.
WHOOM.
The Earth pony mare is thrown back onto the ground, actually skidding a few feet back from the sheer force of the Unicorn mare’s assault. The Unicorn mare bounces back up to her hooves, taking arm at her rival. Her horn sizzles, crackles with force.
WHOOM.
The Unicorn mare hits her opponent with a burst of clear purple magic. The air fills with an electric charge and the scent of lilacs. The ponies gathered there collectively draw in their breath as one, feeling their skin prickling.
WHOOM. WHOOM. WHOOM. WHOOM.
A blue ray, then a yellow, and a red, and a gold one, in rapid succession, all aimed at the Earth pony mare’s sensitive belly. The sheer force of the magical attacks throw her about, her limp body jerking convulsively; the Unicorn mare advances on her with bared teeth, her eyes glowing with killing intent -
“Stop this! Stop this at once!”
A harsh, commanding, feminine voice; the voice of a veteran academic, echoing through the square like the tone of a bell; the order is given with such intensity that the Unicorn mare pauses briefly, glancing upward to see who has spoken, as do the the other students gathered around.
Striding towards the combatants is a young Pegasus mare.
She has a bright silver mane, tied up into a very severe-looking bun. Her features are refined, elegant, yet stern, with bright, sharp, piercing red eyes that are utterly unyielding, bordered by feathery black lashes and soft, plush pink lips, rosy cheeks done up with the faintest tinge of red blush. Perched on the tip of her nose are steel-framed, round spectacles.
She is wearing a white dress shirt, the buttons straining around the large golden globes of her breasts, with a tan blazer, accentuated by a red necktie, her slender, beautiful neck left bare, exposing the shallow curves of her collarbones. Her shoulders are narrow, her arms slim and ladylike, with small, elegant hands and thin fingers.
She has a trim waist and a flat, muscular belly, with wide hips and strong, thick, muscular thighs. She has chosen a very sensible, calf-high tan dress, unobtrusive and loose enough for her to walk or run as necessary. On her hooves are leather boots.
The Pegasus mare stamps over to the Unicorn mare and snatches her up with her bare hands, heedless of the sizzling, crackling rays of magic the Unicorn is shooting in every direction. She shakes the Unicorn mare roughly, addressing her in rough tones.
“That’s enough, Irina! If you want to fight, leave this University. The Royal Guards could always use more dumb, brainless fools to fill their ranks! This is a place of learning, and your actions bring shame to this institution!”
Her fingers dig into Irina’s soft white coat. She is actually lifting Irina up in her hands, a testament to her strength.
“Let go of me, Professor!” Irina shrieks, her face covered in sweat, her mane sticking to her head. She flails about, kicking her legs, straining her arms, struggling to free herself, but the Professor is much taller and stronger. The Professor responds by tucking her arms under Irina’s own, pinning Irina’s arms behind her back.
Irina throws her head back, casting a gaze full of hatred at the Professor’s face. “My father is an Empire Province Representative! He’ll hear about this!”
“Tell him. Tell him about what I’ve done, personally, and then invite him to speak to me in private about your behavior. Does he know you torture smaller ponies with your magic?”
The Professor’s eyes gleam with triumph as Irina’s hateful look is replaced by that of fear. “I thought so. I am merciful, so I’ll let you go this once. Don’t do this again. If I hear you’ve assaulted another student with your magic, I shall speak to your parents at once.”
She throws Irina to the ground, wiping her hands down the front of her blazer as though she’d just finished holding a particularly dirty object. “Get out of here. You offend me,” she says shortly.
Irina struggles to her hooves, and runs away without further comment.
The Professor rounds on the rest of the students. “You lot! Get Menrva to the infirmary! She’s probably very badly hurt.” She points to the limp form of the Earth pony mare lying nearby.
The students gathered around hasten to do her bidding, some running to tell the infirmary staff, others picking up Menrva’s burnt, bruised body and carefully bearing her away. The Professor chases them away, waving them off furiously.
“Off you pop. Don’t you have work to do, instead of standing around, gawking?”
“Yes, Professor…”
“We will, Professor…”
Shame-facedly, mumbling in embarrassment, the students begin filing off back to their respective duties.
The Professor checks one student before she can leave, taking her by the hand much more gently.
“Not you, Shizuka.”
This student is a teenaged Human girl, with smooth, straight, long silky black hair, gelled in sharp spikes about her head. Her almond-shaped eyes are large and expressive, and seem to be perpetually worried; she has a small nose and soft pink lips, and milky-white skin.
She is wearing the Royal University uniform - a navy-blue blouse with a golden sailor-style collar, a pleated blue skirt with a thin golden stripe running around the bottom, reaching up to mid-thigh. She has a slender, delicate body with thin arms and legs, soft, small breasts, narrow shoulders, a thin waist, and small hips. Knee-socks and leather Oxford shoes complete her ensemble. She is clutching her schoolbag protectively before her in her other hand.
Pinned to the chest of her blouse is a photo ID with her full name: NADESHIKO, SHIZUKA.
Shizuka cringes away from the Professor. “Y-yes, Professor? How can I help?”
“Come to my office. I’d like to speak to you.”
Shizuka looks even more nervous, running her soft pink tongue along her lips. “Why? Am I in trouble?”
The Professor heaves a deep sigh, and shakes her silver-maned head. “No. I’d just like to talk to you.”
The Professor’s office is a small, cramped room that seems even smaller thanks to the staggering array of books stuffed in floor-to-ceiling shelves lining almost every wall. Her desk is a tough oak affair with a globe resting on the far right-hand corner, covered in papers, files, pens, pencils, rulers, an inbox and an outbox, a laptop computer, a white metal desk lamp,and a word-of-the-day calendar. There is a tiny painting of an Equestrian Royal Guard hanging on the wall next to the small, pointed window. There are two chairs in front of the desk, and a worn leather office chair behind the desk.
Upon the desk is a lacquered wooden nameplate with golden letters reading “PROF. DEBORAH BOWES-STANFORD”.
Professor Deborah takes a seat in her well-worn office chair, gesturing with one hand at the chairs before her. “Why don’t you sit down, Shizuka?”
Shizuka does so, nervously settling into one of chairs, still clutching her bag to herself. “Thank you.”
The Professor plants her elbows on her desk, steepling her fingers before her muzzle, glaring at Shizuka, who jumps slightly, and looks downward.
“I want to ask you a question, Shizuka.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Why didn’t you do anything?”
Shizuka looks surprised, her mouth opening. “I was scared! I didn’t want Irina to hurt me! You saw how she gets…”
“Shizuka, all that is necessary for evil to prosper is for good citizens to sit back and do nothing. Look.”
The Professor extends her hands; there are visible burn marks on her skin from Irina’s magical blows.
Shizuka recoils from this display, her eyes wide. “Your hands…!”
“It’s nothing,” the Professor says, settling back in her chair, smiling at Shizuka’s worried look. “Please, don’t worry about me. Goodness, one would think you’re my mother.”
“But your fingers are all burned…”
“I’ve had worse. That’s not the point. You must not be afraid to defend the weak, the disadvantaged, those who have been victimized by the strong forces that threaten our daily existence. The fabric of our society, the very things that make our life possible, all of these are at risk of being destroyed by these forces, and the only way we can defend ourselves against them is to learn as much as we can about the world around us, and the true nature of reality, and to use this knowledge to help others. Our obligations to others are precisely what ensure our survival, for if we do not help others, we cannot expect anyone to help us when we are attacked by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, suffer, and cannot defend ourselves.”
The Professor has become so infused with emotion while speaking that she has bunched her hands into fists, her wings actually spreading wide, with a strong breeze, setting the papers on her desk fluttering; they would have escaped were it not for the paperweights pinning them down.
“A long time ago, the Pegasus tribe to which I belong faced its worst peril, in no small part because others were afraid to tell our attackers, “No, this is where you stop. Not a further step forward. We have conceded enough to you; this is where it ends.” Everypony knew the danger that we were in, saw the enormities our attackers were capable of visiting upon those that incurred their wrath, and still, until the last possible moment, there were those who wished to give our enemies a platform with which to speak.”
The Professor drew in a deep breath, and shook her head. “Never mind that now. It’s quite a long story in and of itself, and I’m sure you didn’t come here just to hear me speak about myself at length. What about you? Are you enjoying your time here, studying in Equestria?”
“Yes, Professor! Only…”
“Only what?”
“Well…” Shizuka rubbed her hands together nervously, staring at the ground. “I wish I hadn’t chosen Manehattan. I didn’t think it was going to be so violent and hateful, really I didn’t. I thought it was going to be glamorous and exciting.”
“In a way, it’s exciting, all right,” the Professor said, darkly.
There was a soft rap on the door.
“Enter,” the Professor said, looking up at the new arrival; a Human-looking girl with long silver Equine ears.
She has a fine, long head of hair reaching down to her thighs, and soft, smooth white skin. Her eyes are gunmetal grey. She has a faintly angular face that conveys a sense of impatience, with silvery brows, a small nose, and plush lips, bearing a hint of earth-toned lipstick.
She has a lissome, athletic body with a flat, muscular belly, narrow shoulders, a trim waist, small, round breasts, and lush, wide hips. Her thighs are full and curvy yet firm and strong. Her arms are thin and delicate-seeming, with small hands, and long, slender fingers.
She is wearing tight leather shorts, a leather tank top, leather boots, and a leather collar. At her side hangs a dueling rapier.
This new girl is bearing a tray with an electric kettle, cups, saucers, napkins, and all the other necessary accoutrements one might need to serve tea. She places the tray on the Professor’s desk, then stands aside.
Shizuka perks up as soon as she lays eyes on the girl. “Oh! It’s one of those Yorha androids! What model, what model?”
“Well, I’m glad to see you cheered up a little,” the Professor says, with a gentle smile. “Yes, that is my personal Yorha Type 2, Model D. Just call her 2D, although, or Dimension.”
“She’s so pretty!”
“That’s very nice of you, Shizuka. She’s an older model android, so most people don’t pay much attention to her.”
“Really?”
“Quite. She performs her duties adequately enough. Are you hungry?”
“A little,” Shizuka admitted, reddening slightly.
“Would you like some tea?”
Shizuka leaps to her feet, clutching her school bag. “Professor! May I make it for you? I brought some sencha…”
The Professor gives her Android a sideways look, pursing her lips. “I wouldn’t say no to that, although you may cause poor 2D to feel as though she’s sliding further into obsolescence.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show her how to do it,” Shizuka burbles happily.
She takes 2D’s hand in her own.
2D turns to look at her intently, staring at her with wide eyes, and Shizuka finds herself looking into the android’s steady gaze, drawn by the liquid warmth of 2D’s eyes, like two pools. 2D wordlessly laces her fingers between Shizuka’s, squeezing her hand, pressing her palm against that of the other.
Shizuka’s lips part slightly, her breath quickening, a deeper color rising to her lily-white cheeks.
The Professor watches this with some amusement, a tiny smile playing about the corners of her lips.
“Her skin is so warm…” Shizuka murmurs, still gazing into 2D’s eyes
“Indeed. I’m surprised at you, Shizuka…”
Shizuka abruptly seems to realize she was holding hands with 2D, and hastens to let go. 2D does nothing to prevent her, retaining her typical expressionless look. Androids are supposedly incapable of feeling anything, not having the capability to develop emotions, but, for a brief moment, the merest trace of what could be called disappointment is visible upon 2D’s face.
“Eh? Why’s that, Professor?” Shizuka says, busying herself with the task of preparing the tea, in an obvious attempt to conceal her earlier embarrassment. She puts a spoon in 2D’s hand; the android looks at it curiously, then at her. “Here. Use two scoops, please, 2D, then pour in the water.”
Shizuka produces a tiny red lacquered wooden tea box, opening it to let 2D get at the fragrant green leaves. 2D closes her fingers around the spoon, looking resolute and determined, pressing her lips together, her eyes narrowing. Then she takes a single scoop out, followed by another.
Watching this, the Professor cannot help but laugh.
“There’s a terrifying unmanned weapons system, if ever I’ve seen one. Looks like you two are getting along nicely. Haven’t you seen an android up close before?”
“No, I haven’t. In fact, this is my first time.” Shizuka catches the Professor’s eye as she says this, and reddens further, covering her mouth with her hands.
“That’s quite strange. Your country is spearheading the international initiative to develop androids, I would have thought you would have seen at least one or two at close range before.”
“Oh, yes, I heard about that,” Shizuka says, as she unwraps a bundle of onigiri, placing it on the Professor’s desk; these are soft, delicate white rice balls, covered in seaweed, just about the size of a handful. “I never actually saw any of it happening in my hometown. It all sounded very exciting, but for us, the chance of seeing an android up close was about as likely as seeing a rocket or a warship. Most of the people in my town worked in the fishing industry or farming.”
“So you lived in a rural village?”
“You could say that,” Shizuka admitted. “We took pride in maintaining the traditional atmosphere of Nishinoshima. My father ran the largest ryokan in the village. That was how I learned to cook, by helping my mother in the kitchen with the food. Tourists would come to stay so they could enjoy the fresh ocean breeze, the sight of the bright blue waters around the rolling green hills surrounding our village, the white spray of the waves crashing on the rocky shores of our islands, the taste of salt in the air. They would also come to our shrine. It’s very quiet in Nishinoshima, not all the noise and grit and dust around here in Manehattan.”
A note of longing entered her voice.
“It sounds wonderfully picturesque,” the Professor said. “You miss your old home?”
“Yes.” Shizuka sat down in the chair before the Professor’s desk. “It’s funny, really. I wanted nothing more than to go to the city and experience all the latest culture. My family was so excited! They were all hoping I would return with ideas to make our little fishing village more progressive and up to date with modern society, so that tourists from overseas would visit.”
“What is...fishing?” 2D said, placing her hands on her knees and bending down to bring her face closer to Shizuka’s, staring at her intently
Shizuka went red upon feeling 2D’s warm breath upon her skin.
2D gazed back at her with a very serious look, her steely eyes wide.
“Um...well…” A tiny drop of perspiration beaded upon Shizuka’s cheek. She swallowed. “First...first you need a good, strong fishing boat, one that can handle choppy water. Many trainees leave because they get seasick and can’t handle the rough waters.”
2D looks thoughtful. “Ha...an ocean adventure…”
Shizuka nods. “Yes, it’s tough. Then you must join a fleet of other fishing boats, and sail out into the waters where the fish are gathering. You must have a sharp eye and quick reflexes to spot the shoals, then you’ve got to let out your net. When you’ve surrounded the entire shoal, then you draw up the net and you’ve got your fish!”
“I want to try fishing,” 2D said.
The Professor spread her hands wide, like a magician revealing her trick. “There you have it, then. Androids could revitalize your local fishing industry. Truly, I can see no reason why your Prime Minister should not approve the legislation necessary to build android factories in your hometown.”
“He doesn’t care about rural fishing villages like ours,” Shizuka says, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. She closed her hands into fists. “Abe-san is completely corrupt, all he cares about is propping up the corporations in the big cities and funnelling money into their projects, while letting small villages slowly die out. Our village prides itself on being a nice vacation spot, but Abe-san’s insistence on keeping foreigners out has only destroyed our livelihood. The prefecture my village is located in is slowly dying. It’s like walking around a ghost town. When I was a little girl, Nishinoshima had little enough villagers as it was, and as I got only, it only grew worse. Many of my friends moved away to Osaka or Kyoto to find a better life. Yes, I heard all about the android factories being built in Kobe, and we waited patiently for Abe-san to approve the laying down of factories in our prefecture, in the hopes that it would revitalize our village, that people would want to live and work here, but it was all for nothing.”
2D began pouring two cups of tea, setting one down next to the Professor, another next to Shizuka. The Professor selects one of the onigiri, biting down gratefully on the soft, glutinous white race, and chewing. “Delicious,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “This is filled with salmon, isn’t it?”
“Yes! I made them myself.”
“Truly, one of the things that makes Equestria great is the contribution of immigrants like you, Shizuka. Never forget that this nation was founded by immigrants who left their homes in search of a better tomorrow. What’s more, this is a diverse and multethnic nation comprised of citizens from every race. That ugly display you saw in the courtyard today is not who we are. I hope that when you return to Japan you will encourage your friends to visit us…”
“I will! Only...I’m afraid that my village might collapse entirely if more people leave,” Shizuka confessed, taking a careful sip of her tea.
2D sat down next to her, folding her hands in her lap, and crossing one leg over the other, elegantly.
“And well you should,” the Professor declares, thumping her desk for emphasis. “You are caught in the teeth of a war, which, I might add, you and your villagers are losing. The effects you have seen on your village are all the cause of the upper classes fighting against you. The Nation of Japan is their field of battle, they’ve already encircled your castle, even now their agents have their blades at your throats, and you are entirely at their mercy. The same war is being fought right now in the Empire Province of Equestria, due to Princess Celestia’s woeful oversight in allowing the mercantile industry and the venture capitalists to run rampant here. The androids, which would free your villagers from the yoke of the corporate powers, are being jealously guarded by the Japanese capitalists. Automation, which should have been used to make your life better, is repurposed as a weapon to force you into poverty and submission. Can you, with a clear conscience, justify the use of androids in frivolous tasks such as the service industry, when they could farm, fish, and raise livestock for us?”
“Then how can we save ourselves?” Shizuka cried.
“You must fight back,” the Professor said. She rose from her chair, planting her hands palm-down upon her desk, bringing her muzzle closer to Shizuka’s face. “Reclaim what is rightfully yours. Those androids, those means of production, they are all rightfully those of the people. Even now, I have formed a Revolutionary Army to throw down the capitalists in this city and reclaim our freedom. Revolution, armed revolution, is the only thing the capitalists understand; I mean to give it to them. I shall free the citizens of the Empire Province, or die in the attempt.”
“Professor! Let me join your Revolutionary Army!” Shizuka said, leaping to her feet.
“You’re too young, Shizuka. What would your family say? You don’t realize the nature of the enemy you’re about to engage. Not even Princess Celestia realizes it, or she would not have let the capitalists in the Empire Province to do as they wish. You cannot know how powerful and evil they are! They would let a million foals or babies die if it made their indexes on the stock market rise a single tick. These capitalists will eat your flesh, crack open your bones and suck the marrow from them, and then pick their teeth with the shards.”
“Actually, my family would be very proud of me,” Shizuka said, with a note of pleasure.
“Why is that?” the Professor asked.
“My ancestors fought against the Oda clan in the wars of the Sengoku period. Rebellion is in our blood. I can trace my lineage back through my mother’s family to the great warlord Uesugi Kenshin, who dared to openly oppose Oda Nobunaga and struck back at him. Despite overwhelming odds, outnumbered by the Oda clan’s forces, my glorious ancestor bloodied Nobunaga so badly he was forced to retreat.” Shizuka knelt down before the Professor. “Let me fight with you! I’m not afraid of the Capitalists!”
“That’s very brave of you, Shizuka, but I fear you will soon realize how dangerous an enemy you are facing. Nevertheless…” The Professor grinned, and sat back down in her chair. “If you won’t be dissuaded, then you can join us.”
“Thank you, Professor!” Shizuka said, rising to her feet.
“You are most welcome. You are right, we should not be afraid. How wise of you, Shizuka! What a clever girl you are!”
Shizuka blushed. “Really?”
“Yes! Even I had forgotten, for a moment, that we are destined to succeed. History is on our side. Let the upper classes shake with fear in the face of our Revolution! We have everything to gain and nothing to lose, and if we should die, then we become heroic martyrs.”
The Professor, who had been growing more and more passionate as she spoke, her voice trembling with conviction, her face reddening, sweat rolling down her face in thin rivulets, her wings upraised, her eyes flashing, stood up and gazed at her student.
“Isn’t it exciting, Shizuka? If we win, we get our own lives back.”
“How can I help, Professor?”
“Well, I’ll have to refer you to my most trusted commander. Even now he is leading the vanguard assault on one of the most deeply entrenched, influential capitalists in Manehattan: Jane Morgan, the owner of the financial corporation J.P. Morgan. He will know how best we can use your strength in our fight against the capitalists.”
The Professor strides over to her bookshelf, rummaging about among the books. “Where did I put that file...ah, yes. Here.”
She draws out a manila folder, seating herself before her desk, and taking a set of documents out from within.
“The commander of my liberation army: Leo, a human much like yourself. We don’t discriminate against others in this unit. Nor have I singled out non-equines for the sake of optics. We met by mere chance.”
“Just like I did!” Shizuka says, brightly.
The Professor’s coral-pink lips quirk ever so slightly as she stifles a grin. “Indeed. He is resourceful and intelligent. He is full of rage, but I feel this is an admirable trait. Grip your anger firmly, Shizuka. Do not allow others to extinguish it. Your emotions are what complete you.”
Shizuka picks up Leo’s sheet, examining it; a grim-faced young, darkly handsome Human man with short, raven-black hair glared back at her from the front.
“He has a very high attack power rating, excelling at close range combat. He is armed with a red crystal, further augmenting his base attack with a variety of offensive powers. His crystal also improves his defensive ability; he can take a great deal of damage without suffering any ill effects. Prior to joining my revolutionary army, he owned and operated a private security company, or, as we would traditionally call them, a mercenary army. He is an expert strategist, a veteran campaigner.”
“And this one?” Shizuka took out another sheet, this one bearing a young black-coated Pegasus colt with red stripes like slashes of blood, a confident grin upon his muzzle. “ I see he uses a Nihonto. I wonder where he got it from?”
“Perhaps, when you join their ranks, you can ask him yourself. He’s quite a skilled blademaster, and quite proficient at air combat, as well. He could become a Wonderbolt when he grows up. Like most Pegasids, he can attack from the sky with a devastating air-to-ground attack at high speed. You don’t want to get caught underneath him. He may be small, yet he is nimble and fast.”
“Wait a minute. He’s just a colt!”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“But you said I was too young to fight in your army! What makes him different from me?”
“You’re a promising student from overseas. He is a native-born citizen of Equestria. I had little wish to involve foreign nationals in my operation unless it were absolutely necessary, and if I did, I did not wish to involve the young.”
The Professor laced her fingers together, placing her elbows on the desk, her silvery-grey eyebrows furrowing, her lips pressed together in a stern line.
“This is a highly personal matter, Shizuka.”
“I understand, Professor,” Shizuka said, bowing her head.
“Still, since you won’t be dissuaded, I suppose you may enlist in our battle. I must admit, I’m excited to see your combat rating.”
The Professor takes out the last datasheet, placing it on the table. Shizuka takes the sheet, giving it a cursory glance. A white-and-black Zebra mare, her face obscured by a black niqab decorated with red and green pinstripes, gazes back up at her.
“That’s Alsvid,” the Professor says. “She’s the primary ground infantry soldier of this outfit. Ranged weapons are her specialty. She has some knowledge of close-quarters hand to hand combat, as well. No one can handle a car better than her.”
The Professor frowns slightly, grinding her jaws together, her mouth tightening.
“You seem upset, Professor,” Shizuka said, putting the sheet down.
“You’ll want to be careful around her,” the Professor said. “She’s fiercely defensive of her comrades, but she’s also unpredictable. One minute she’s the sweetest, nicest mare you could know, next minute she wants to kill someone in cold blood over a perceived slight.”
“She sounds fun.”
“She isn’t, and she’s a danger to herself and others. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I enlisted her. Leo seems capable of keeping her in check, however.”
The Professor opened her laptop, taking out a USB-C cord. She plugged one end into her laptop, after a few failed attempts (swearing quietly under her breath all the while), then she beckons 2D over.
2D walks over to the table, brushing her hair back from her neck.
The Professor pushes a slat at the back of 2D’s neck, which retracts to show another USB port. She plugs the cord into 2D’s port; 2D’s eyes widen briefly, her body shivering.
“But soft,” the Professor whispers. “Let us now observe our heroic revolutionaries.”
The Professor’s fingers fly over her laptop’s keyboard, the keys clicking rapidly. Then she unplugs her android from her laptop.
“2D, go. Maintain your distance; I don’t want anyone to discover your true purpose.”
2D nods. “As you command.”
2D walks over to the window, throwing it open; she clambers out onto the windowsill. With a soft, whirring noise, a pair of sleek grey wings paired with tiny jet engines extend from her back.
2D leaps from the windowsill, propelling herself into the air with her powerful legs. She soars into the sky; her engines spool up with a low thrum, and she gradually gains altitude, ascending almost vertically, before soaring towards the southern part of the city, disappearing over the horizon.
“She can fly, too?” Shizuka’s voice carries a note of surprise as she watches 2D’s ascent.
“That’s right. I customized her with a special aerial package to improve her surveillance capabilities. She can maintain flight for 36 hours in order to loiter over a target area.”
The Professor turns her laptop so that Shizuka can see it; the screen shows the skyline of Manehattan, skyscrapers flashing past in blurs of silver, with a HUD display showing information such as airspeed, altitude, position coordinates, compass heading, waypoint location, and target information.
“Now we can see what 2D sees. I’ve programmed her to reconnoiter the area where my army will make their landing. Let’s watch this, shall we? It should prove exciting,” the Professor purrs, lacing her fingers together and gazing at the screen. Her dark red eyes glitter.
“Professor…”
“Yes, Shizuka, what is it?”
“Are you sure that Leo can do this?”
“Absolutely.”
The Professor gives Shizuka a very sharp look. Shizuka cannot help but tremble slightly at the sheer force in the Professor’s gaze; it feels as though the Professor’s red eyes are cutting her to the bone.
“I am confident in his ability to secure for me a victory. He will not fail. Of this I am certain.”
Author's Note
So, thus far it's a very interesting Equestria we're in right now, yes? Inequality, rich, powerful ponies running rampant, unrest, rioting, racial conflict...
To answer your questions: no, not all of Equestria is a nightmare like this, just the Empire Province.
We assume Equestria is split up into provinces, yes? Then the one Manehattan is in is the Empire Province.
A totally unrelated bit of trivia: one of the nicknames of New York State is the Empire State.
In the cold, crisp morning air, their breath forming clouds of steam, a Human and a Pegasus Colt are busy sparring with one another.
Leo, the human, is a thin, muscular, dangerous-looking young Human male with rich, dark, coppery brown skin and hair as glossy and black as a Raven’s feathers. His face is arrestingly handsome, with black-browed, gunmetal grey eyes; his gaze is unyielding - the gaze of a seasoned military commander, glittering with sharp, bright rage. His nose is small, flat, and smooth; he has a wide mouth with sensuous lips and glittering, sharp teeth; he has a heroic, strong, angular chin and jawline, his head resting atop a broad, heavily muscled pyramid comprised of his powerful neck and shoulders.
His torso displays a perfect V-shape, with wide shoulders, developed upper back muscles, thick, strong pectoral muscles like plates of steel, hard, sculpted abdominal muscles, firmly defined through his shimmering, sweat-slicked brown skin. His arms are thick and strong, his heavily developed upper bicep and forearm flexor muscles bunching powerfully beneath his dark skin. He has large, rough, strong hands.
He has a slender waist, his legs long and powerful, with broad, firm upper quad muscles along his thighs, and lean, powerful calves; he seems like someone who could chase you down at high speed and jump great distances, or kick particularly hard.
Leo is wearing a red, white, and green, skin-tight, stretchy fitness shirt decorated in red, white, and green, with the words “OAXACA PRIDE” clearly printed across the back; it clings to the hard, firm, developed muscles of his pectoral and abdominal areas, barely containing the swells of his bicep muscles. Loose black athletic shorts and off-brand trainers from a local megamart complete his outfit.
The Pegasus colt squaring up to him is a full head shorter, and his body still retains some of the softness of youth; aside from that, he is quite thin and strong, with the physique of a professional athlete; he has very little bodyfat and excellent muscular definition. His coat is a dark grey, with red slashes here and there, like spills of blood; he has bright, sharp, red eyes, a small, clever mouth with a perpetual smirk clinging to the corners of his lips. His mane is a rebellious shock of grey and red.
He is shirtless, leaving the shallow curves of his pectoral muscles, the ridges of his hard abdominals, his slim, youthful arms with firm cords of well-developed bicep muscles and forearm flexors, all bare. He is wearing Lycra bike-shorts that accentuate the swells of his powerful quad thigh muscles and his flanks and a pair of trendy “AIR PEGASUS” athletic shoes. He has large, wide, powerful black wings with magnificently glittering plumage; when he beats his wings it is difficult to resist being buffeted by the strong gusts they produce. His name is Shadow, which certainly seems appropriate given his dark, formidable coat.
He has bandages wrapped around his hands; despite his youth, he has quite strong hands as well, his palms also roughened through hours of gymnastic practice and flight-training exercises. He has worked himself up into quite a lather by comparison to Leo, and he is breathing hard, his slim, strong chest rising and falling steadily, his pectoral muscles tensing.
Shadow clenches his fists, exhaling; stiffening his abdominal muscles, spreading his thighs a little, his arms tightly coiled against his body, building up energy within them like a coiled spring for his attack.
All of this telegraphs his intention to Leo’s expert gaze in a second. Leo narrows his eyes, leaning forward ever so slightly, lifting his hands to prepare himself.
Shadow explodes forward with a powerful leap, his hooves impacting the ground. He swings at Leo with a wild straight punch, his wings extending briefly, increasing his speed until he is practically a red-and-black blur.
Leo parries it effortlessly with a glancing blow from his upper arm.
Shadow clenches his jaws together with frustration, and counter-attacks with a rapid uppercut; he rapidly draws back, pushing against the ground with his hooves, actually propelling himself upward using the full force of his thigh muscles, his abdominals, and his shoulders, aiming his fist at Leo’s exposed belly.
Leo blocks that blow as well in a stinging parry with his right arm; Shadow gasps with pain as the force of the blow resounds through his bone and flesh.
Stung by the pain, Shadow grinds his teeth together and summons his energy for a powerful roundhouse kick, lowering his right arm, raising his left arm, and pushing off from the ground with his left leg, swinging his right leg around in a brutal arc aimed right at the side of Leo’s head.
“It’s over!” Shadow thought to himself, with a furious flash of satisfaction.
Leo raised his left arm and intercepted the kick. He locked eyes with the smaller colt; Shadow’s heart pounded as the larger Human loomed over him.
Leo grasped Shadow’s leg in his left hand in a split second, taking hold of Shadow’s body with his right,, tugging the colt towards him, forcing him into a joint lock.
“Ah! Stop...stop…!” Shadow grunts, clenching his jaws. Sweat rolls down the contours of his pectoral muscles in rivulets. His body trembles in Leo’s grip as he struggles against his opponent, to no avail; Leo’s hands are like steel pincers, forcing him to remain still.
Leo lets go of him. Shadow collapses to his knees, rubbing his shoulder, panting for breath.
“What’s wrong, kid?” Leo says, kneeling down next to him.
“It’s not fair! You’re bigger than me!”
“So?”
“ How am I supposed to fight against someone like that?”
Shadow scowled, and placed his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t make sense. I can barely reach you! You’ve got too much of an advantage.”
“That’s right. I’m gonna guess you’d prefer sparring with someone your own size.”
“Well...yes!”
Leo shook his head, good-naturedly. “Nope. You see, kid, eventually you’re going to have to fight someone who’s bigger than you. That’s just how it goes. You never know when you’ll have the order to attack and whoever it is you’re about to take down is much bigger than you. That’s why you want to train against someone bigger than yourself; it’ll prepare you for real combat with someone like that. Think about it. If someone like me came charging at you in a real fight, you’d probably lose your nerve.”
“No, I wouldn’t!” Shadow snapped.
“Sure, whatever.” Leo grinned humorlessly “If you fight against me now, you’ll be ready to tackle five people my size. Perhaps more, if you keep training.”
The door to the tenement apartment opens; a young Zebra mare trots out into the open air, running up to Shadow and Leo.
She is a few inches shorter than Leo, approximately the same age as him. Like most Zebras, she is powerfully built, with a strong body, a stubby muzzle, long, sensitive black-and-white striped ears, a moist, warm, thick black nose, plump black lips, bright, large aquamarine eyes, and a glossy, luxurious black-and-white striped coat. She is wearing a black Hijab on her head, with red and green stripes.
Her upper body and arms show clearly defined, tough cords of muscle jutting out under her coat. She has huge, round, heavy breasts, barely contained by a blue T-shirt stretched taut around her plump melons; on the front of the T-shirt are the words “STRONGER TOGETHER” in white. It’s a tight-fitting shirt, leaving her hard, muscular abdomen bare.
This Zebra mare has wide, fertile hips and a slender waist, giving her body the much-coveted hourglass shape. Her flanks are a pair of large, juicy half-moons that quiver with every step; as is common with most Zebra mares, her flanks are much bigger, more developed, and softer than those of a normal pony. She’s wearing skin-tight black yoga pants that stop just short of her hooves; left just teasingly low enough to expose a brief glimpse of her lime-green g-string and her cutie mark - three arrows pointing downwards in a circle.
Her long black-and-white mane is tightly braided against her head; her tail has been carefully combed and washed, causing it to gleam in the early morning sunlight.
She sneaks up behind Shadow.
Leo catches sight of her, and grins.
“What? What’s so funny?” Shadow eyes Leo suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Leo says, watching the zebra mare approaching Shadow.
The Zebra mare scoops Shadow up in her powerful arms. Shadow yells in dismay and struggles, flailing about, beating his wings, before realizing who it is.
“Ow! Get off m-...oh, it’s you, Alsvid. Don’t startle me like that!”
Alsvid, the lush Zebra mare, giggles, and gives Shadow a hug, squeezing his body against hers.
“Bet you didn’t hear me approach you, did you, matey?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Everyone always says that.”
“They do?”
“Yes! Apparently, I’m rather good at walking quietly. It’s a good skill. It’s like second nature to me, now. I don’t even put any effort into it, and still everyone always says they don’t see me coming until the last...possible...moment.”
Alsvid’s eyes glitter as she pronounces the last few words. Her light, fluting, heavily Northern Equestrian-accented voice takes on a menacing softness.
“Um, Alsvid…” Shadow cranes his head back to look up at Alsvid’s face; this is somewhat difficult to do, since she is holding him protectively against her belly.
“What is it, shipmate?” Alsvid looks down at him innocently.
“I have wings. I don’t need to walk quietly.”
Alsvid is instant in her reply: “Ah, but what if one of your wings were damaged?”
Shadow gives this some thought, furrowing his brows and scrunching up his muzzle. “Hmmmm...you’ve got a point there.”
“Or what if you were in a narrow enclosure and couldn’t fly?” Alsvid points out.
“That’s true. Where’d you learn to walk so quietly, anyway?”
“Her Majesty’s Royal Space Force, of course! To put a finer point on it, I was one of Princess Celestia’s Space Marines, and a Marine Pilot at that. So I’m probably better at flying than you are, matey,” Alsvid teases Shadow.
“No way!”
“That’s not all! Marine Pilots hafta be as good on the ground as they are on the sky. Take the squadron I was with, for a start. I was never shot down, thank Celestia, but a few of my shipmates did, and they hadda fight their way outta the ground ‘til we could fly an evacuation mission to go get ‘em. ‘Matter of fact, I was selected to infiltrate an enemy command post…”
“Couldn’t they send regular Marines to do it?”
“No, ‘cause it was a time-critical mission. The win conditions lay on getting in there before the enemy shifted their position. We had the initiative; our unit was within striking distance. That was where my ground infiltration skills paid off!”
“So you snuck inside?”
“Sure I did!”
Alsvid wilted under Shadow’s questioning look. “All right, all right, so I just had my squadmates shoot their way in, ‘cause who needs stealth when you’ve got the enemy by surprise, right? Besides, I didn’t have the patience to go in quietly. So I just had my girls shoot every Celestia-damned thing in the perimeter, throw explosives at anything still moving, and leave. It was quicker and easier that way. A lot more fun, too. We were under a lot of stress; that little sortie gave us the chance to really let the enemy know how we felt. You couldn’t get a moment’s rest back then without some scout drone buzzing your camp at 0300 hours, not doing anything, just messing with unit morale by keeping us awake for a bit. Just to liven things up, they’d attack our camp, so we’d always be at stand-to the moment we heard the enemy approach.”
Alsvid scowled.. “That was one of the things that made me start to hate society. We were stuck in a meaningless conflict against an equally meaningless enemy, but the vast part of Equestrian society didn’t really care as long as the war made money for someponies. I risked my life so others could turn a profit. Worse, when I was demobilized and they sent me back to the Empire Province, I found that the Governor was letting his Police officers kill citizens over mere trifles. I came home, expecting a relief from the war, and found myself on the frontlines of yet another conflict. I’d never seen anything like this before, because the ponies who were killed in battle overseas were at least hailed as heroes, but the victims of Police brutality were always portrayed as these hideous, larger-than-life monstrosities who deserved death for daring to go against the Empire Province’s police.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you let rich people decide what’s best for you,” Leo said, coming up behind Alsvid, and placing his arms around her. “The Empire Province has always been the worst, most cruel province in all of Princess Celestia’s realm.”
“What, even though Manehattan belongs to the Empire Province?” Shadow asked.
“Especially because of that,” Leo said. “I’d say that this city is one of the reasons why the Empire Province has become so corrupt. All the ponies around here care about is capital; starting businesses, making money, destroying the competition. The Princess should do something about it, but she won’t, because the Empire Province is one of her largest money-making provinces. It directly funds a great deal of the Canterlot high society. Think about it: when the Canterlot ponies come out here to buy jewelry or clothes, they’re not worried about how many ponies or humans the Manehattan Police has killed. They just want to buy the latest fashions; then they leave, while we’re stuck here trying to survive.”
“Honestly, even being a Marine Pilot was less dangerous than just being a poor citizen of Manehattan these days,” Alsvid says. “This...this ridiculousness of shooting civilians dead that the Manehattan Police carry on with...it’s crazy! Back when I served with Her Majesty’s Royal Space Marines, the Military Police spent the better part of their time breaking up barfights and writing tickets, not emptying their magazines into ponies. Don’t even get me started on all the heavy equipment the Manehattan Police use. The MPs at my base drove buggies and carried sidearms. I come back home and find the Manehattan Police using assault rifles, full military gear, armored personnel carriers, choppers...what are they bloody well playing at? Who are they hoping to attack? I don’t feel safe going outside anymore! I pass by one of these heavily armed officers and wonder if I’m going to die! A squad car drives behind me and I start making my peace with Celestia. “Well,” I think to myself, “I had a fairly good life,” and wait to see if I’m going to be cut down in a broadside of gunfire.”
“Alsvid’s one of the lucky ones,” Leo added. “She was born on Equestrian soil and nobody challenges her citizenship…”
“Mostly. The good citizens of the Empire Province are trying to change that, too. Now they’re saying only unicorns, Earth ponies, and pegasids are real citizens, and Zebras like us aren’t real Equestrians,” Alsvid muttered darkly. “That’s why I’ve always backed Humans as the front-line defense against the bad ponies in this Province, because if the provincial government gets rid of the Humans, we’ll be the next to fall. And from there, it’ll just be a fascist nightmare where you’ll probably get dragged out into the street and shot if you aren’t a full-blooded Unicorn. The Unicorn supremacists are out of control in this Province,” Alsvid said. “Diversity is our strongest weapon against them. I don’t know why the Princess won’t do something about it.”
“Because the Empire Province is controlled entirely by the rich, Alsvid,” Leo reminded her, stroking her sides with his hands, pressing his fingers into her warm, voluptuous, soft flesh. “Besides, the fascist nightmare you describe is already in full swing, here. You can, actually, be dragged out into the street and shot by the Manehattan Police, for no other reason other than that you’re a Zebra, and the Police Commissioner would say that you were endangering the life of her officers…”
Alsvid snorted. “Yes, quite…” She stamped her hoof, her tail standing straight up indignantly.
“Most certainly,” Leo said, his voice thick with irony. “You, as a Zebra, are much stronger and faster than normal Equestrian ponies…”
“That’s not true!” Shadow protested.
“You’re right,” Alsvid said. “ In fact, I’m sure you could beat me at a run-”
“I know I could!” Shadow said.
“Yes, but that doesn’t change hundreds of years of Unicorn supremacists poisoning the citizens here with their talk of how all Zebras are much stronger, faster, and more resistant to damage…” Leo said.
“They’re not entirely wrong. I can certainly take a good pounding for longer than these normal ponies,” Alsvid said.
“I don’t think the police care about that particular talent of yours, Alsvid,” Leo said, with a chuckle.
“They should! After all, I’m quite proud of my ability…” Alsvid said, with a touch of righteous indignation. She brushed her muzzle against Leo’s bare skin, thrusting out her long, powerful tongue, dragging it over his flesh slowly, then she nipped at him gently, just barely squeezing his flesh with her teeth, teasingly.
“It is quite impressive,” Leo said, placing his hands on Alsvid’s slender waist, pulling him closer towards him, pinning her body against his own, burying his face in her warm, soft black-and-white mane. “Anyway..yes, where was I?”
“You were talking about the Manehattan Police,” Shadow suggested, helpfully.
“That’s right. So, yeah, heavily armed death squads roam the streets, looting, pillaging, and killing ponies and Humans at the slightest provocation. Not much difference between that and the fascist nightmare you describe, Alsvid.”
“You’re right, Leo. I hate it here. We’re being horribly oppressed by the Empire Province’s government, and they think they can get away with it just because a bunch of rich ponies live here, too. You know, a few years ago they elected a Zebra as our Governor, and I thought things were going to change around here, but, if anything, the Unicorn supremacists got even more out of control, the rich ponies stole even more of our stuff - but never mind that, we’re supposed to be frightened of Zebras and humans, because, you know, they’re criminals, and that’s why the Police department is allowed to get away with all these atrocities,” Alsvid scowled.
She looked down at Shadow, who she was still holding against her belly. “Listen here, shipmate, you want to hurt ponies and commit lots of crimes, and get away with it?”
“No, not really. Sounds terrible, actually,” Shadow said. “Good Celestia, Alsvid, what’s wrong with you? I’m not a complete monster.”
“That makes you far better than most of the Empire Province’s bankers,” Alsvid said. “They steal stuff from everyone and get away with it. I was going to say that if you wanted to do all of these bad things, you should open up a bank. Then you can kill ponies and take their stuff, and everyone in this province will ignore you, because it’s just good business. The regional government doesn’t care. Meanwhile, these idiotic Unicorn supremacists run around the place crying about how everything is bad just because other races are allowed to breathe around them, and these credulous idiots believe that, instead of taking the fight to the rich ponies who are bloody well squeezing the life out of the rest of the Empire Province’s citizens. You know, if these Unicorns are so bloody well smart and superior, why can’t they figure out this business of money and banking is a bloody dead end? Well, I’ll tell you what will happen, Shadow. We’re all going to die because of these rich ponies. That’s what I figured out; life at home in the Empire Province is no different from being at war, because the rich ponies will kill us off to make room for themselves. They don’t even attempt to hide it, nowadays.”
“She’s right, you know,” Leo put in. “Entering the Empire Province is practically a death sentence, if you’re not being flown in on an exclusive private aircraft. The provincial government’s border patrol units actually just shoot at you and don’t ask any questions.”
Shadow wriggled out of Alsvid’s grasp, and flew into the air, batting his wings powerfully, hovering at the head level. “Gotta admit, that is kind of excessive.”
“It is,” Leo said.
“Still, though…”
“What?”
Leo watched him, patiently.
“The provincial government’s gotta start and end somewhere, right? How can we exist if we don’t have a clearly defined set of boundaries? I’m not saying that they’ve got a right to try to kill just anypony trying to cross our borders, but it sounds like you just want anypony to come and go as they please…”
“Sure, and why not?” Leo said. “Exactly who does it hurt if this happens?”
“Some of them might be criminals…”
“What, more so than the criminals who run this city? The banks? Those shadowy companies we can’t ever actually talk to? Besides, you’ve got law enforcement to take care of that,” Leo pointed out, giving Shadow a hearty slap on the back.“
Shadow looked at Alsvid, then at Leo, questioningly. “Shouldn’t there be somepony keeping an eye on who enters the province?”
“You’re not wrong, Shadow, it’s just that it’s ridiculous that the provincial government thinks killing others is the solution to this,” Alsvid said, with a deep sigh. “ Since when did it become acceptable to just kill ponies or humans for victimless crimes? Is this really the kind of place the provincial government wants us to live in? It’s amazing that ponies don’t just think this is okay; they actually want even more control! It’s like they’re enjoying all this fascist nonsense! You know, I actually saw some ponies wearing badges supporting Manehattan Police officers; it’s like they’re just telling us “We hope you all die. All of you.”
Alsvid let out a choked sob. “It’s really like nobody cares about how bad things are. Why won’t the Princess Celestia save us?”
Leo hugged her, protectively, encircling Alsvid’s slender, beautiful body within his heavily muscled arms, holding her close to him. “I won’t let them hurt you, Alsvid.”
“Thank you, Leo. At least my life matters to someone,” Alsvid said, gratefully..
“To answer your earlier question, Shadow, closing our borders is just hurting the Empire Province’s economy...which, in turn, makes the Unicorn supremacists even more annoyed, so they call for even harsher border control, while the rich ponies outsource all the jobs to other provinces, or, sometimes, installations in foreign countries,” Leo said.
“And this was while a Zebra was governor,” Alsvid said. “You’d think the bloody coward would have done something about it; he’s not from around here, he should know what these local ponies actually think about him. Oh, sure, I thought all the ponies around here didn’t care that I was a Zebra, but then I grew up and realized that they were holding this against me. They expected me to fail at everything; I was determined to prove them wrong just because of that.”
“Were you?” Shadow asked her.
“Of course I was!” Alsvid protested. “How else d’you think I got all these medals? That was why I put my life on the line to protect our Princesses from all threats, foreign and domestic!”
“You certainly don’t seem to have much to show for it now,” Shadow said, smugly.
Alsvid bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I don’t want to put it too bluntly, Alsvid, but you’re kind of a failure. You live in a dilapidated ghetto and break the law on a daily basis.”
“That’s to be expected, isn’t it, shipmate? The government doesn’t give a flying buck about you once you leave their service.” Alsvid snorted. “Anyway, I’m done trying to prove things to these ponies now. I’ll take my revenge on them for pushing me to the outside. It was stupid of me to ever try to earn their approval in the first place. Matter of fact, I feel like all those years I spent in Her Majesty’s Royal Space Navy was a waste of my bloody time. It certainly didn’t make anypony get over their dislike of me…”
Leo, who had been watching Shadow and Alsvid trade jabs at each other, a look of faint amusement upon his face, now spoke up.
“Look, you two, much as I hate to interrupt all this intellectually stimulating debate, which is the primary method of making decisions in a revolutionary army like ours…”
“That’s quite all right, my dear,” Alsvid said, taking hold of Leo’s body in her hands.
“What now?” Shadow said, finally alighting on the ground, and crossing his arms over his chest.
“There’s a much more serious problem at hand.”
Leo paused; Alsvid and Shadow looked at him, expectantly.
“Yes?”
“What happened?”
Leo left them for a few more seconds. “The fact of the matter is, I’m bucking starved.”
“Oh, that’s right! Silly me, I’ve been out here flapping my gob all this time and plumb forgot to tell you what I came for. I made breakfast for everyone! Come inside,” Alsvid said.
Inside, Alsvid had set out a delicious table, a variety of small portions: roast beef so hot it emitted thin wisps of white steam, falling off the bone with a mere touch of the fork, drizzled in lashings of gravy; she had thoughtfully roasted some vegetables - piping hot turnips, broccoli, and carrots - in the remainder of the gravy, as a garnish.
Next to this was a thin, crispy tortilla, lightly buttered, topped with crispy, fresh green lettuce which formed a bed for the chopped avocado, sizzling cuts of grilled chicken (this formed a decadent contrast with the cold lettuce when eaten), soft cheese, not entirely unlike the packaged string cheese one might find in supermarkets, and tangy, piquant tomato salsa.
Accompanying this was a dish full of grapevine leaves with rice and delicate cuts of lamb; Alsvid had cooked the rice and lamb together with onions, garlic, a pinch of salt,and curry powder before carefully wrapping them in the leaves. She had provided a tiny pot of fresh yoghurt to dip them in.
To drink, there was a carafe full of water with ice cubes popping and crackling inside, and three cups of a hot, thick, sweet chocolate drink comprised of cornflour, milk, water, chocolate, beaten with a whisk until smooth, with some sugary cinnamon churros to complement the chocolate.
Leo threw himself down in one of the nearest chairs and began attacking the food with an eager appetite set to the food with an eager appetite. “You did great, Alsvid, thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, Leo,” Alsvid said, smiling proudly, sitting at the chair directly opposite of him.
“This is good stuff, Alsvid, where’d you get this recipe?” Shadow said, through a mouthful of tender vegetables
Alsvid waved a hand at him airily. “Oh, this? This is nothing. Just typical Equestrian Royal Navy vittles…” she said, indicating the roast beef and vegetables. “Try the Warak Arish. That’s a bit different from Navy fair. It’s a old Northern Zebrican recipe. I only get my meat from Northern Zebrican butchers in Lower Manhattan; they make all their stuff according to our dietary law, so you know it’s really clean and fresh.”
Shadow dubiously picked up one of the stuffed grapevine leaves, nibbled at it, chewed, swallowed. His eyes grew wide, and he promptly began scarfing down another, this time eating it whole.
“Hey, kid, leave some for me,” Leo quipped, as he broke off a piece of the tortilla, taking care not to let any of the toppings slide off, and eating it with quick, sharp, wolfish bites.
Shadow picked up another stuffed grapevine leaf, blowing on it slightly, then popping it into his mouth. “Mmf. They’re really good! You should think about opening a restaurant.”
“Never!” Alsvid shouted. She struck a dramatic, yet defiant pose, placing one hoof on her chair, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at Shadow. She struggled not to laugh.
“Why not? You seem to know something about making a good meal; you’d probably become a millionaire. Wouldn’t you like to have a bunch of really popular restaurants with your name on them?”
“Nope. That sounds bucking awful, actually. I won’t back down, matey! I’ll fight these capitalist pigs to the last breath in my body,” Alsvid declared, sitting back down. “I’ve got me standards to keep to! Why, if I let myself become another capitalist I’d just become another soulless monster like the rest of these Manehattan freaks, exploitin’ the labour of my comrades.”
Shadow eyed the tortilla. “What about this? Is this, like, a taco…?”
“Better than a taco, kid,” Leo said thickly, through a mouthful of food. He swallowed, took a sip of the hot chocolate drink, and continued. “This is a tlayuda. Actually, I’m surprised Alsvid could get the ingredients for this here. It’s a pretty popular dish where I come from.”
“You can count on me, Leo!” Alsvid said, brightly, perking up her long, striped ears. “I hadda improvise a little bit with the ingredients, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine!” Leo hastened to assure her. “The drink is also something you’d usually get in my old neighborhood. It’s called Champurrado.”
As they spoke, the door to the hallway opened.
An odd-looking girl, human in appearance, but with long silver Equine ears, walked in.
At a glance, she seems to be about 16 years old. Her skin is smooth, the color of ivory, her silver hair cut in a bob.. Her blue eyes sparkle brightly. Her mouth is small, with pert pink lips bearing a hint of coral-colored lipstick. She has a slender body, with narrow shoulders, a thin waist, small, pert breasts, and wide hips, with large, round, firm buttocks, and plump thighs.
She is wearing a short micro-cut black dress with long juliet-style sleeves and a window open at the front of her chest to expose the soft white globes of her breasts, black stockings, black leather stiletto high-heels, and leather gloves. At her side hangs a long, lean, gently curved katana in a worn, used leather scabbard.
She sits down next to the table on a chair slightly adjacent to the table, folds her hands in her lap, and watches the other three eating.
“Ah, it’s 2C,” Shadow says, glancing at her briefly, between bites of food. “Wonder if she’s hungry.”
“Androids like me can’t eat Human food,” 2C says, shortly. She has a very firm, resolute voice.
“He was joking, 2C,” Leo says, with a tiny sigh. “Don’t take him seriously. Can you show us the News?”
“Roger that, Commander,” 2C says, crisply. Her eyes glow blue, emitting rays of light upon the table. A holographic screen appears just above the table, flickering into sight like the display on an old CRT monitor being switched on, in a flash of blue light.
The display shows a Manehattan skyscraper’s ground floor, through which a cavalcade of ponies, all centered on a young, blonde female Unicorn, are bustling. A chipper mare is describing the scene in rapid tones; 2C seems to be emitting the sound from devices attached to her neck.
“...J.P. Morgan’s stock prices soared today after the CEO completed her acquisition of Vanguard Financial Group, in a move that our financial analysts say is worth 4.8 trillion Bits! Jane Morgan, the CEO and owner of J.P. Morgan, was unavailable for comment on her stunning acquisition…”
“Bloody capitalist.” Alsvid’s hands closed into fists.
Leo barely glanced at the screen. “Her? I know a lot of evil people like her. Where I come from, people like her used to stir up immense hatred against us. They would stop at nothing to destroy us. What’s worse, people who had no reason to hate us let themselves get caught up in their hatred.”
Alsvid shook her head, baring her teeth. “What does she want with all of that money? Manehattan suffers from an epidemic of homeless and poor ponies. Even now they’re building robots to take over our jobs…”
“You don’t like robots?” Shadow asked.
“Far from it, matey. I love robots. I hope that in the future, if we’re successful, robots will take care of us and do all the heavy lifting while we’re free to live our lives. Instead of letting renegades like Jane run wild, robots will help to govern our society and ensure that everypony’s needs are met, that nobody has to suffer, go hungry, or worry about if they can survive another day.”
Alsvid pointed her fork at the figure of Jane on the display. “Capitalists like her don’t want to let that happen. So they force us to work while keeping a tight grasp on their machines. They don’t want to let us have robots. Even now we’re breaking the law by having a robot like 2C in our household.”
“She has made our lives so much easier,” Leo said. “Robots should work together with us, instead of being the tools of the rich, used to enforce their rule.”
Alsvid snorted, tilting her ears back. “Yes. Meanwhile, ponies like her keep their gilt hooves on our necks and kill us for daring to speak up. That mare...she is truly evil. She makes no attempt to hide it. I can’t believe so many Manehattan citizens support her.”
“I can,” Leo said, flatly. “You’re forgetting how selfish these ponies can be, and how easily led they are. They like how evil she is. They think it’s just great. If she was a character in a story book, people would say she is unrealistic and cartoonishly evil.”
“Well, they think she’s right because she’s rich and talks about how many great deals she’s made. She’s this big winner, remember, Leo? She makes the best deals, she said. She even wrote a book about how great she is at making deals. I think it’s called “The Theory of the Deal”, or something along those lines.”
Alsvid looked down at the table. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one,” she murmured. “This is awful.”
“Leo, tell me the story of how we got the 2C androids,” Shadow said, changing the subject.
“He is good at telling stories, isn’t he?” Alsvid said, with a warm gaze at Leo, brightening up instantly.
“Ah, it’s nothing,” Leo said, modestly. He drew his chair closer to the table, snatching two of the stuffed grapevine leaves for himself, along with a little yogurt, cleared his throat, and began.
“When Princess Celestia first opened diplomatic channels with Shinzo Abe, the Japanese Prime Minister, the two heads of state agreed to help each other with scientific research. Now, we humans have been trying to make real robots for a long time. We had robots for decades, but they were mostly just big dumb things that were too big to fit in a house, and were cut out only for industrial work. Earth had yet to make a human-sized robot that was realistic, intelligent, and capable of doing everything a regular human could do. Plus, they were all big steel things, not like our 2C here.”
“So the Equestrian scientists put their heads together, with the help of a few Human scientists, at a joint Equestrian-Japanese lab in Osaka, and developed the technology to make fully organic computer technology. It’s totally reversible - you can plug 2C into a normal computer, but you don’t need a normal computer to do anything with her. Of course, Humanity had been working on something like that, but we couldn’t figure out how to do it without screwing up. And so the first flesh-and-blood robot with positronic, customizable black boxes in their backbones, capable of running an operating system. The first series was called the Model A, Type One. Abe sponsored the creation of a manufacturing concern specializing in androids called Yorha Automation Systems. They recently opened a Terafactory in Appaloosa, maybe you heard about that. Anyway, 2C is an older model - a Yorha Type 2, Model C. People like to joke that the C stands for Combat, but the manufacturers say it stands for Concordance. They’re up to the Model S these days.”
“I named her Prophecy,” Alsvid said, halfway through a mouthful of the tlayuda.
“That’s a stupid name,” 2C said, shortly. “I don’t like it.”
“Why not?” Alsvid protested. “It’s a play off your model type - 2C, to see...a prophecy is described as a sort of a vision, or something seen. It also rhymes with your name. Prophecy, 2C, prophecy.”
“Your sense of humor is totally awful,” 2C retorted.
Alsvid ignored this. “I built her myself,” she boasted. “Mind you, I couldn’t get the more expensive parts, but she’s strong and can run most modern-day videogames pretty easily without overheating too much. Things have really changed since we used to put together computers. I thought I was going to be sick at first when I was squeezing her organs into her chest cavity. They’re so squishy and gross, ugh…” She shuddered.
“And that’s how androids entered Equestria,” Leo said, sitting back in his chair and reaching for his cup of champurrado, pushing his empty plate away. “Even though androids make life better for everyone, troublemakers on both planets have been putting up a fight against using them. The general public aren’t allowed to have robots. Only the rich corporate executives are allowed to use them in their factories. Some folks talk about Robot Revolutions, which is just plain old racism against robots. Now, I understand why they’re upset. The rich people are using robots to force us out of jobs, and since they have complete ownership over these robots they get all the money the robots earn them. They’re getting richer than ever, while the rest of us are struggling to survive.”
“You’re certainly not struggling,” Shadow quipped, waving one hand at the table.
“Yeah, that’s because we’ve got the Professor taking care of us. She makes a solid profit as one of Equestria’s most highly lauded academic, but she won’t remain out of the grip of the robots. If they can figure out how to have robots teach students and research, she’s out of a job, and she knows that, which is why she’s fighting against the capitalists.”
“We also break the law and steal, but it’s not really stealing when you’re taking things from these corporations,” Alsvid added, brightly.
“Right. So we’re mercenaries. We risk death for a contract and the money paid. We’re not much different from normal workers in that sense, kid. You have any idea how many laborers die every day?”
Shadow rubbed the back of his head. “Ummm...lots?”
“Yes, lots,” Leo answered, harshly, glaring at Shadow. “You should read up on the history of labor sometime. A lot of good people died just so we could have a weekend off, you know.”
I’m no lawyer, but it seems to me like we’re gonna need laws to protect androids like Prophecy here.”
“Why?” Shadow said, carelessly, as he attacked a joint of roast beef. “They’re just dumb machines.”
2C, or as she was nicknamed, Prophecy, ignored this.
“Well, look at it this way. You can’t just drive a car without getting proper licensing and such, because of the law. Those laws let us use cars without disrupting people’s lives. They just need to introduce some laws that protect androids so that they can do their jobs without a whole set of pushback,” Leo pointed out. “I wouldn’t trade Prophecy for anything. She’s a good little fighter and she helps out a lot around here. She’s very useful.”
An hour later, at the Revolutionary Army’s garrison in the tenement block building in the Northern region of Manehattan, the food has been eaten and the plates have been cleared away.
Shadow and Alsvid are sprawled out on the decrepit old couch, playing videogames and unwinding a little while Leo’s having a post-workout shower; 2C is sitting in front of them, her holographic display active. A pair of game controllers are plugged into 2C’s neck.
“So tell me something, Shadow.”
“What?”
“You’re the second Pegasus I know who uses a sword.”
“Yeah, they’re a lot more precise than guns. That a problem?”
“Nope. I’m just wondering if it’s a thing with you lot. The Professor uses a sword too, but she prefers a dueling rapier. You should see her in action. She’ll skewer you like a piece of meat before you can blink an eye.”
“Mm, I never could get the hang of that. Fencing’s a difficult art,” Shadow says, scrunching up his muzzle, tensing up as he grips the controller harder, his fingers practically a blur over the analog sticks and buttons. “Yes! I win, again!”
Alsvid blows out a tiny sigh, letting her controller drop to her thighs. “Buck. I almost had you. Best out of three?”
“Sure, why not? If you want me to slap your flanks good and hard again, that is.”
“We’ll see about that,” Alsvid says, with a mocking smile.
Leo emerges from the bathroom, his dark skin glowing, the scent of soap and shampoo clinging to him, rubbing at his raven-black hair with a towel, clad only in a pair of navy blue boxer briefs and sandals. “It’s your turn, Shadow. Get washed up. We leave in fifteen minutes,” he says, his resonant voice terse.
“Looks like the Commander saved your flanks this time, Alsvid.” Shadow bounces up from the couch, tossing his controller into his seat and striding into the bathroom.
Alsvid glances up from the holographic display to gaze at the sharply defined musculature of Leo’s body; the topography of his iron-hard abdominals, the rigid plates of his pectorals under his taut, dark skin. She rises from the couch, moving closer to him, their bodies close together, pinning him back against the wall, pressing her soft body against his own; Leo could feel her warm breath upon his skin. Her bright green eyes gazed into his own; she placed her hands, palm-down, upon his chest; Leo wrapped his arms around her slender body, feeling her trembling with pleasure at the feel of his embrace, her breath quickening; she pressed her hips against him, pinning him back against the wall, and he arched his powerful back in response, running his hands over her hips, her thighs, feeling her roll her hips against him. He, too, had begun to breathe harder; he dug his fingers into Alsvid’s soft black-and-white coat, squeezing her, and she gasped in response, her mouth opening.
Leo pressed his mouth to her snubby little black muzzle; Alsvid’s eyes widened as she felt his warmth, the softness of his mouth upon her own; she thrust her tongue into his mouth and felt his own rise to meet her, feeling him salivating with pleasure as she stroked the hard, muscular length of his tongue with the tip of hers, felt him gripping at her own tongue with his, rubbing the rough, hot, slippery flesh of his tongue upon her own. She could feel his powerful hands on her thighs, her belly.
Leo drew the slender-bodied Zebra mare closer to him, feeling her eager, warm breath as she arched her back and pressed her warm, wet mouth closer to his. He cupped her heavy, round breasts in his hand, sinking his fingers into her soft, warm flesh, kneading it, and felt her gasping in response. He squeezed harder, feeling her shuddering and raising up on tip-hoof in delight, then he ran his hands over her slender, muscular belly.
He pulled away from her, gossamer threads of saliva linking his mouth to hers, and gazed at her; she was panting for breath, her large, liquid eyes moist, entranced.
“You’ve been so brave,” he said, quietly. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Oh!” Alsvid dashed at her cheek with one hand, wiping away a tear almost angrily. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Why?”
“You suffered far more than I did, Leo.”
She placed her head upon his chest, tears rolling down her cheeks.
They readied themselves for battle.
Leo had changed into his faded blue jeans, leather jacket and combat boots.
Alsvid was wearing her old, repurposed Equestrian Royal Space Marine uniform; a form-fitting, pressurized, skin-tight black bodysuit that hugged the curves of her hips, breasts, and thighs, black high-leg jackboots, a close-fitting helmet equipped with an environmental control system and heads-up-display, monitored by a miniaturized computer that fit into the back of her helmet, the size of a postage stamp. She had chosen a black hijab for combat, a simple thing made of cotton, wrapped around her head and shoulders.
Around her torso is a Tachyon Belt; an impressive piece of Equestrian engineering; it looks like an ordinary metal harness strapped to her chest.
She has chosen a simple black leather bomber pilot’s jacket. Slung over her shoulder is a long grey Solar Arms Company AM-12 Pulse Rifle with a Holographic Sight; next to that, an MRM-2 Nova Cannon, a tall, stovepipe-shaped weapon half as high as a pony, bristling with electronics. A GM-48 railgun similar in shape to an exceptionally long-barreled, futuristic revolver with a red dot sight, hangs off her right hip.
“How’s Shadow’s gear going? You get him set up yet?” Leo asked.
Alsvid nodded, watching 2C’s holographic screen as she typed in commands from an ordinary Bluetooth wireless keyboard. “Just about. I installed all the necessary upgrade packages so he can communicate with us and see what we’re seeing.”
She waved a hand at Shadow, who was watching her, clad only in his snug black briefs. “Go ahead.”
Shadow placed his hand on what looked like a slim black leather attache case.
In response to his touch, the case opened and unfolded like a lotus blossom, extending many slender blue steel plates that covered his hand, then his arm, then his upper body.
“Don’t resist it,” Alsvid warned him, as he bent his head away from the tight-fitting cybernetic exoskeleton creeping up his neck. “Breathe. It’s got a fully functioning life support system.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“‘Course it is. The Professor spent the better part of a year and a half getting this one.”
Shadow tried to relax, stretching his legs and arms as the exoskeleton’s visor covered his muzzle; he could feel the steel plating pressing against his chest and wings, pinching them slightly.
He could see nothing at first, then the visor glowed a bright red and his vision was restored; he felt the exoskeleton loosening as it reconfigured itself to adapt to his body; suddenly it felt like he was wearing a very light cloth robe. He inhaled deeply and found that the neutral scent of the apartment has been changed to a sharp, sterile, clinical scent.
Words flashed over his vision, in bright red.
MITSUBISHI HEAVY INDUSTRIES
“What do these Japanese characters mean?” Shadow said, sounding bemused.
“Gray Fox,” Alsvid answered.
Shadow gazed down at his own body; he was covered head-to-hoof in a tightly fitting gray steel exoskeleton, beautifully made of many smaller steel plates, aerodynamic and angular in its design. Red LED lights glowed intermittently along his arms and legs. He gave his wings an experimental flutter.
His exoskeleton whirred, jet intakes opening under his wings.
“Be careful with those, kid,” Leo said, instinctively raising a hand over his head to protect himself from the backwash of hot air from the intakes. “You don’t want to set this building on fire, it’ll burn like a match.”
Shadow twisted his body, trying to get a look at the jet engines attached to his wings. “Wait...you don’t mean…”
“Thrust-vector control turbofans with afterburners,” Alsvid said. “Those were meant for a human pilot, so you should find them even easier to control, since you’re a natural-born aviator.”
Shadow was silent for a moment, taking all of this in. Then he struck a victorious pose, pointing at Leo, then at Alsvid. “Henshin, baby, henshin!”
Alsvid laughed. “That’s right.” She threw a faded-looking, worn black leather jacket to Shadow.
As the jacket flew through the air, a red targeting box appeared around it on Shadow’s field of view. He felt the exoskeleton’s motors pushing at his arm, propelling it towards the jacket, and he reached out to snatch the jacket effortlessly, guided by the suit’s auto-targeting mechanism.
He pulled it on over his shoulders, casting a curious glance at Alsvid. “What about Leo?”
“What about him?”
“He’s not armed.”
“Think so?” Alsvid said, cryptically. Shadow caught a glimpse of her face under her helmet, bearing the smallest hint of a smile.
Leo closed his right hand into a fist.
Bright red light burst from his arm, spreading up his fingers and his upper body revealing a gleaming red ruby buried in his chest; to Shadow, it seemed as though the ruby in Leo’s chest was burning with an intense rage.
There was a noise like a distant explosion; a low, discordant sound that struck Alsvid and Shadow in their stomachs.
Red armor plating covered Leo’s entire right arm, wickedly sharp and hard, with long, bloodthirsty fins, small fans lodged here and there in his armor whirring softly as he flexed his fingers.
“There,” Leo said quietly, a note of triumph in his voice.
Alsvid strode towards him, a red helmet in her hands. “Here. The Professor got you something, too.”
Leo took the helmet from her. Constructed of light alloy plating, shaped like an angular, mechanical-looking jaguar’s head, its jaws open, baring long steely teeth like knives, the eyes glowing a bright green. He slid it on over his head; the inside was padded with a soft, cool, breathable surface. He heard a low whirr and felt the rim of the helmet forming a tight seal around the base of his neck, pressing down firmly on his skin. He inhaled deeply; the air was clean, cool, and faintly astringent.
His field of view bore the faintest green tint; a blue targeting reticle in the center. Blue words were projected before him:
KOMATSU LIMITED
“Looking sharp, boss.” Shadow’s voice was loud, crisp and clear, as if he were leaning over Leo’s shoulder to speak to him, emitted through a tiny speaker in Leo’s helmet.
“You should be able to communicate with us now,” Alsvid said. “On the right side of your helmet, just beneath the jawline, is a switch for the Infrared and Night Vision settings.”
Leo grasped for the switch and touched it.
The words “INFRARED” flashed in blue over his vision, and suddenly he found himself gazing at a brilliant field of blue, over which red figures - humanoids and small animals - pulsed and shone. He glanced above him and saw nothing but an array of humanoid figures, moving about as they underwent their daily tasks.
“Great. This will come in handy. It’s like I can see through walls.”
“Right?” Alsvid grinned. “Now they can’t hide from you. I mean, you could probably have cast a spell to detect them, all the same.”
“It’s one less thing for me to do. This way, I can concentrate on fighting, not finding the enemy. It was good of the Professor to think of this.”
“She included another little surprise in your helmet, too. It’s enchanted. You’ll see a prompt on your viewscreen when it’s ready to use.”
Leo watched two figures straddling one another curiously as he listened to Shadow and Alsvid bickering quietly in the background.
“How come he gets to see in infrared?”
“Your suit can do the same thing, Shadow!”
“Oh, now you tell me.”
“I was just going to!”
“How do I do that?”
“There’s a small switch just on the right hand side of your neck. Give it a try sometime.”
Shadow tapped the side of his neck, and gave a little surprised jump as his vision changed. “Whoa. It’s like I can see through walls!”
“But of course. We can all see in infrared. It’s standard kit for Royal Marines, and androids like Prophecy have machine vision so they can do it any time they like. We also have night vision, though I don’t think we’re gonna need it much in this operation.”
Leo cut through their conversation, switching his display to normal mode. “Now listen.” He snapped his fingers sharply.
Shadow and Alsvid turned to face him. 2C was already facing him, her expression flat, neutral.
“You’re about to fight against a truly merciless enemy. She will use everything in her ability to destroy you. She’s a dangerous bitch who attacks her rivals with the corrupt Manehattan police officers she’s got in her purse. Those officers are going to do everything in their power to kill you. You must not let that happen.”
He waited.
Shadow and Alsvid watched at him, expectantly.
“Nevertheless, you’re going to win. Don’t let her scare you. Survive at all costs. Remember the mission. The Professor entrusted me to bring her a victory, and I don’t intend to disappoint her. Keep it together. Watch your six, your squadmates, and your surroundings.”
He lifted his right hand, closing it into a fist.
“Let’s move.”
Alsvid’s car is a long, low-slung, menacing-looking black Ford Thunderbird ‘71: wide-bodied, with an array of four headlights and a chrome grill that looks like a snarling, fierce bird of prey’s beak, jutting out in a vee-shape, fat tires.
Alsvid thrusts the key in the ignition, twisting it; the Thunderbird’s vast engine turns over with a dull mechanical roar, so furiously the entire car shudders, the tachometer needle briefly spiking upwards before falling back down. She lets the engine idle for a bit, relishing the way the big-block V8 engine makes the car’s frame vibrate.
Leo clambers into the roomy rear seat, followed by Shadow and 2C..
Alsvid places her hand on the stick, throwing the car into first, her other hand effortlessly resting on the Thunderbird’s compact MOMO steering wheel. She guides the Thunderbird out of her parking space slowly. Then she guns the engine, and the Thunderbird shoots down the alleyway.
Shadow picked up his katana, closing his fingers over the grip. He gives the blade a quizzical glance; it is a long, lethal looking piece of equipment, the blade showing an interlaced design like carbon fiber, a steel trigger embedded into the handle so that it can be squeezed while the handle is being gripped.. “This isn’t my normal weapon.”
“The Professor thought you might like something to match your new outfit,” Leo said. “Don’t play with it just yet.”
“What is it?”
“A high-frequency blade.”
Shadow shook his head. “High-frequency? I don’t get it. What is that, can I listen to the radio on this thing?”
“Means it vibrates real quick. One side is sharp, one isn’t. It’ll cut through almost anything like butter and deflect most small projectiles. Hit someone with the dull end and they’ll be stunned for a good couple of hours, since the nervous system can’t handle things like that.”
Shadow grinned. “Awesome. Can’t wait to give this a test drive.”
He glanced out the window of the car, watching the city streets rolling by.
"Hey, Leo.”
“Yeah?”
“What did the Professor mean when she said she would kill us if we squealed, though? She says we're valuable to her...but she'd also kill us? Why? I don't think that makes sense!"
"She’s your superior officer. Ask Alsvid what happens if you disobey your officers. She’s a former Marine.”
“Death,” Alsvid said, shortly. “That’s why our officers wear sabres on their belts. Your superior power of life and death over you. Did you think the Professor wore her rapier for decoration?”
The lower levels of the Morgan Building is a quite normal financial institution situated in a pleasant borough of Manehattan, an entirely ordinary place with automated tellers and a small suite of offices where one can open an account, take out a loan, and conduct other business with the financiers within.
In one of these offices, a junior Financial Advisor named Exchange Rate was blithely explaining to a devastated-looking little Earth Pony family that the bank was about to take their home away.
"No, I'm sorry, we've extended you enough time, and we have no choice but to put a sale date on your property. You have exhausted all your options and you can't secure any funding, so, I'm sorry, but..."
Exchange Rate, a thin young Earth pony mare with a bright red mane, yellow eyes, and a soft purple coat, spread her hands wide on her desk. "That is the action we have decided to take."
"You can't! We've lived there our whole lives...I raised my foals in that house..." protested Goodwife Intent, the matriarch of the family, an unkempt-looking middle-aged mare, grey-coated, white-maned, with dull purple eyes, the lines of stress and worry stamped harshly upon her face.
Her husband, a tan-colored Earth Pony stallion with strong shoulders and powerful arms, sat slumped in his chair, looking like someone who had already resigned themselves to death, his eyes closed.
"My parents are very sick and old...moving them out might kill them, the shock, the stress..." Goodwife Intent protested.
Exchange Rate lost her temper. "Well, you should have thought about that before falling back on your mortgage payments! Now, I'm very busy and I have other clients to discuss business with."
Having signaled an end to the discussion, Exchange Rate folded her arms over her chest and went silent.
Goodwife Intent's children began to cry. Goodwife Intent threw Exchange Rate a look of utter loathing, and scooped her offspring - a thin filly and a bony little colt - up into her arms, and left. Her husband trailed behind them, a forlorn-looking shell of a stallion, utterly dismayed that he had failed his family in this.
Exchange Rate stood up, stretched, and walked out of her office after them.
As she passed by another office, she heard one of her co-workers busy with another client.
"No, your credit rating is too low for a student loan! It's impossible, so don't even ask!"
In front of her, a young colt was slamming his fist against the ATM screen.
"Dammit! How can there be no money in this thing...I just got paid yesterday!"
Exchange Rate chuckled at the display of incompetence that the young colt was showing.
"People really need to figure their lives out," she thought to herself. "It's not our fault they don't have control over themselves..."
She strode over to a window, watching the family she'd just seen off piling into a dilapidated old sedan. Another car was approaching outside - some ugly-looking black muscle car.
The car began picking up speed. Exchange Rate wondered if the brakes had gone out on the old lead sled.
Then she realized it was going to ram them, and she ran aside, screaming.
"Look out!"
CRASH.
The monstrous black car smashed through the front facade of the building with a tremendous explosion of sound, shattering glass, and metal shrapnel.
Back in Professor Deborah’s office, Shizuka winced as she watched the black muscle car smashing through the building’s front facade. “They rammed it?”
“That’s right. Don’t worry, that car is heavily reinforced. They’ll be fine. Let’s link up their comm systems so we can hear what they’re saying...look through their eyes, too.”
Professor Deborah drew the laptop back towards her, typing a few commands. “There.” She pushed the laptop back to the front of her desk, and settled back in her chair.
Alsvid leapt out of the car, with Leo, Shadow, and 2C hot on her hooves, and grabbed Exchange Rate around her waist, thrusting the barrel of her railgun against Exchange’s belly.
"Avast there, you bilge rats! Clean yer lugs out and hear me!" the Zebra mare bellowed. "We're taking the ship! Don’t try to fight us, unless you want me to spill this pretty young mare’s guts all over the floor!”
Exchange Rate began to cry. “No! Please! I don’t want to die!” She struggled to no avail, trying to prise Alsvid’s arm off her throat, but the powerful Zebra mare’s arm was like a band of iron. She fought to breathe, her vision blurring.
Instantly, the bank turned into a scene of chaos. Ponies ran for the exits, screaming and shouting and pushing and stamping in a mad rush to leave the building.
"Dear Celestia, why?!"
"Help me! Help!"
"Noooooo!"
"Dammit! This is why we shouldn't let Zebras and humans in our country! I told you something like this would happen!"
Alsvid glared at the Unicorn stallion who had just said that, her face contorted with rage, her eyes blazing. "What was that? You want to die, too, you scummy landlubber?!" she screamed, pointing her weapon at him.
The Unicorn stallion gibbered, collapsing to his knees.
Shadow ran forward, his exoskeleton boosting his speed so that he was practically a grey-and-red blur, raising his katana in one hand, grabbing another banker - a young Unicorn mare - and holding his katana to her pretty young throat. She blinked up at him in fear, feeling the cold steel tickling her flesh.
"Get out of here! Go on!" he shouted at them. "Or I'll open her throat right here!"
The frightened bankers hastened to obey, scrambling for the exits.
Leo strode over to one of the tables, standing up on it resolutely. 2C followed him, escorted by a Micro-Unmanned Aerial Vehicle hovering about her shoulders like a white bird. It was shaped like a white block, with an aperture in the center glowing a bright red.
“2C, go to Point Defense Mode,” he ordered her.
2C nodded, unsheathing her own High Frequency blade and taking over behind a stone pillar. “Point Defense Mode engaged.”
A small green map of the immediate area flickered into view on Leo’s Heads-Up Display within his helmet, showing the layout of the lobby, with a green dot right in the center, displaying a small white wedge before it, the point towards the dot, showing his field of view. He could see three green dots nearby him. Outside, a cluster of red dots were quickly converging towards him.
Shadow let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of enemies.”
Leo gathered from this that his squad could also see the minimap on their respective displays.
“Good.” Alsvid’s voice was grim. “The more landlubbers, the better! I’ll…”
“Remember the Professor’s command! She warned us not to cause a bloodbath! Shadow, Alsvid...both of you, use stunning attacks only on these police officers.”
“Why?” Alsvid snapped. “Those ruddy pigs would kill us if they had the chance.”
“Do as the Commander says, Alsvid,” Shadow said.
Alsvid made a wordless sound of annoyance, but she threw Exchange Rate to the ground. The frightened banker scrabbled to her hooves, practically crawling and running at the same time, until she got clear.
Alsvid slung her railgun back into its holster and pulled her pulse rifle off her back, snapping the safety to “STUN”.
“Take cover! Take cover! Prepare to attack!” Leo shouted, gesturing at Shadow and Alsvid.
Alsvid sprinted over to one of the hard marble counters, dropping to one knee behind it. “Aye, Commander!”
Shadow followed her, pushing his captive away, vaulting over the counter - he marveled at how the exoskeleton he wore augmented his movements, it was almost as though he were merely willing himself to move, at such speed the world became a blur - and putting his back up against it.
They peered over the counter. A host of police cars were screaming towards the bank, their red-and-blue lights shining brightly, their sirens howling.
Leo narrowed his eyes, grinding his jaws together, the muscles standing out in his neck. “Come on, come on…” he growled, clenching his armored hand into a fist. Red fire blazed along his armored right hand.
Shadow felt Alsvid’s hand on his shoulder, and turned to look at her, surprised at how gentle her touch was.
“Be careful, Shadow.” Alsvid’s voice was full of emotion. He could see her bright blue-green eyes gazing at him steadily through her helmet. “Don’t let them kill you.”
Shadow gripped the handle of his High-Frequency blade tightly, and nodded. “I won’t,” he said, resolutely.
Officer Copper Top, an industrious young Earth Pony police mare, was driving her car down the street, and happily chatting with her squadmate. She wore the standard Manehattan Police officer’s uniform; a tight blue t-shirt leaving her muscular arms bare, tautly stretched around the globes of her breasts, clinging to her firm abdominal muscles, navy blue pants with black knee-pads, black jackboots, a black utility belt with a holster for her gun, handcuffs, a collapsible baton, extra magazines, a blue officer’s hat, and mirror shades.
She was relating a story of her most recent arrest with great relish.
"So then he was like, "I want my lawyer!" And I was like, "Stop resisting!" These criminal types crack me the hell up, I tell you."
"Hilarious!" her friend, Officer Quickshot, a tall, muscular stallion, similarly clad in the Manehattan Police uniform, agreed. He chuckled appreciatively.
"Next thing you know, I slapped the cuffs on that no-good, and I was...wait a minute."
She pulled up in front of the Morgan Building, surveying the chaos and confusion and the general disarray surrounding the place, the ponies fighting and screaming and stampeding to get away, and the black muscle car lodged in the front fascia of the building.
"Quick! Get County on the line! We've got a robbery in progress!"
Her squadmate hastened to obey, grabbing the comm unit and shouting, "26 to county!"
"Come in, 26," the dispatcher responded, smoothly - an impeccable mare’s voice.
"We've got a 10-65 in progress at the Morgan Building!"
"You sure about that, 26?" The dispatcher sounded shocked.
"Affirmative! We've got a visual on them right now! There is a 10-65 in progress at the Morgan Building! I need every available officer here now! Do you copy?!"
"10-4. Officers are en-route to your position, 26. Standby."
“Get ambulances here too!”
“Roger that, 26.”
And, just like that, as if by magic, a swarm of police cars, backed by ambulances, sirens screaming, converged on the bank, setting up a blockade and cordoning off the area. Officers poured out into the street, guns drawn, barking orders to the civilians.
"Keep back! All of you, keep back! Stay away!"
"No closer!"
In the luxurious penthouse suite of the Morgan Building, Jane Morgan was listening to her secretary outlining the benefits of acquiring Vanguard Financial Group’s assets.
“...that holding alone is approximately worth two-point-one million bits. Therefore-”
A shudder ran through the building. Jane neatly intercepted her pen as it began to roll off her desk.
“What was that?” little Erytheia squealed, nearly dropping Jane’s teacup.
Competitive Advantage frowned. “It sounds like something hit us.”
“A terrorist attack?” Amicus Curiae said, sounding frightened.
“No. We would probably have been dead already if that were the case. Let’s see what’s going on, shall we?” Competitive Advantage walked over to the screens upon the far side of Jane’s office. She pressed a button, and one of the screens changed to a live feed of the security cameras in the lowermost floor of the building.
Jane sprang up to her hooves, fury all over her beautiful face as she surveyed the scene: a muscle car lodged in the front end of the building, ponies milling about in fear, a human, an android, a pegasus clad in some kind of armor, and a zebra in a spacesuit, bristling with weapons, threatening her employees.
“It looks bad. Should I have your helicopter summoned?” Competitive Advantage said.
“No.” Jane sat back down, brushing a stray strand of her long blonde mane out of her face. “Filthy zebras...human garbage...I’ll teach them a lesson myself. Prep my security detail.” Her voice dripped with venom.
“At once, my Lady!” Competitive Advantage hastened to obey. She strode out of the door.
“This is why we need a strong and powerful border wall,” Jane said to Amicus Curiae, folding her slender, ladylike fingers together, fixing her with a level gaze.
“We should deport everyone who isn’t an Earth Pony, a Unicorn, or a Pegasus, then things like these wouldn’t happen. When I’m finished with them they will wish they were dead, you’ll see.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “That’s if the police don’t kill them before I can get my hands on them. Let’s watch this, shall we? It should be very interesting.”
Ponies began gathering around on the city street, holding up their smartphones, jostling to get a better look at the crime scene, gossiping.
"What happened?"
"Someone's robbing a bank!"
"Cool, I always wanted to see that."
"Right? You only see it happening in the movies! This is exciting!"
Not too far from the bank, a large body of protesting ponies were facing down a contingent of Manehattan’s finest; an intimidating array of black-clad, heavily armored Riot Control Police, their clear polycarbonate shields raised, backed up by two large Armored Personnel Carriers bearing the word “MANEHATTAN POLICE DEPARTMENT - RIOT CONTROL DIVISION” on their sides. They were wearing gas masks and shielded helmets, looking very similar to one another, a faceless wall of black.
Captain Steele, leader of the riot control detachment, shouted through a bullhorn at the protestors.
“Disperse now! This is a public street! Get off the road or we’ll shoot!”
She waved a gloved hand at her squad. “Get those rubber bullets ready!”
“Yes, Captain,” one of the heavily armored Riot Control officers responded, racking his shotgun.
“They won’t move back. Deploy the gas!”
Another officer stepped forward, bringing a grenade launcher up to her shoulder. There was loud thump as she pulled the trigger, a gas grenade hurtling into the protesters, spewing white fumes.
Screams and yells came from the protesters as they scrambled away.
Joyous Heart, a slender, athletic, pink-maned, white-coated Earth pony mare, clad in black pants, black boots, a black hoody sweater, her face wrapped in a red bandanna, ran over to the grenade, picking it up and lobbing it back at the Riot Control Officers.
“No fascist cops in our Equestria!” she shouted, raising her fist. “No fascist regime on our shores! Take back our city! Manehattan belongs to its ponies!”
Her comrades took up the cry, surging forward in a mass of bodies towards the phalanx of Riot Control Officers.
“Bash the fash!”
““Push forward! Let’s go, ponies!”
“Hey! Hey! Fashy cop! How many colts have you shot!?”
The phalanx of Riot Control Officers was met with a headlong rush from the protesters as they threw themselves bodily against the wall of shields. Captain Steele heard them grunting and straining to push back as the protester threw their weight against them, digging their boots into the asphalt to try to stem the flood of angry ponies.
Some protesters began pelting the cops with anything they could get their hands on - pebbles, pieces of garbage, stray rocks, bottles. Captain Steel swore as a bottle exploded against her helmeted head, falling to one knee.
"Let's go!" Officer Copper Top leapt out of her car, branding her pistol. She thumbed the safety off, running towards the Morgan Building, with Officer Quickshot flanking her.
The uniformed officers of the law swept down on the bank in a wave of blue. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see her fellow officers running in unison with her, readying their weapons.
“Police! We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!” Officer Copper Top shouted.
Leo grinned under his helmet humorlessly, baring his teeth. “¡Chinga tu madre, puta!” he shouted back.
“Right, that’s it. They’re resisting! Open fire! Shoot ‘em! Shoot ‘em down!” Officer Copper Top shouted.
Some of the Morgan Building’s employees were still struggling to get out, and they began howling at the police officers.
“Wait! Wait, don’t shoot! Some of us are still in here!”
“Let us out!”
“Don’t shoot us!”
Copper Top ignored them.
The officers around her dropped to one knee, raising their service pistols, flicking the safeties off with loud metal snapping sounds.
Copper Top planted herself on one knee, bringing her pistol up, lining up her sights, flicking her safety off in turn with a clank.
She squeezed the trigger. Her gun roared, kicking back against her hand; she squeezed the trigger again and again, her fellow officers did likewise, firing indiscriminately. The sound was deafening; a cacophony of gunfire, shot after shot after shot, a relentless volley of bullets.
A veritable hurricane of bullets shot through the lobby. The Morgan Building’s employees let out fresh screams as they were cut down by the incoming fire, dropping where they stood. Cries and pleading filled the air, some of them trying to crawl to safety, trailing bright red coppery blood on the floor.
Bullets whizzed and flew, smashing into pillars, spraying stone and metal everywhere, shattering glass in tiny explosions of shrapnel, chewing up wooden chairs, bursting ink-pots, snapping pens, tearing up paper, slicing through computers and leaving them in sparking, sizzling ruins, cutting through cloth, bursting cushions.
Shadow raised a hand over his head reflexively as shards of wood, metal, and stone showered over him, briefly forgetting his armor. His heart pounded in his chest. “Buck…! Commander! They’re shooting at us!”
Leo was facing the hailstorm of bullets calmly; they rebounded off the red forcefield around his body harmlessly. “Wait for it, Shadow,” he ordered the young colt.
Alsvid was calmly singing a little song.
“Mach Nine! Manehattan’s best radio station!
She snapped her fingers, and smiled.
“She’s so relaxed, even when they’re shooting at her,” Shizuka said, marveling at the steadiness of the Zebra mare’s voice from the Professor’s laptop.
“See how invasive the power of the Capitalists are, Shizuka?” Professor Deborah said, shaking her head slowly. “That’s an advertising jingle. At no point in time are you free from their spell. They envelope you entirely. Tell me, can you count how many advertisements you’ve seen alone today?”
Shizuka took her lower lip into her mouth slowly, thinking. “I...can’t recall.”
“You see?”
